#i actually have one more interesting project in the works as we speak!!

[asphodelis]

its been an okay year!! heres to the next one :)

[dollfacefantasy]

SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL ♡

pairing: homelander x fem!reader

summary: homelander has taken an interest in you, vought's new intern. no matter how you look at it, as a good or bad thing, it ends the same way: him getting what he wants.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dubcon, p in v, oral (m receiving), body worship, sir kink, obsessive behavior, manipulation/coercion, age gap (reader in early 20s)

wc: 7.7k (oops lol)

a/n: hehe. never thought i would write for this man but it was pretty fun :) comm for my sweet beloved @gor3-hound love you so very much mwah mwah <33

At the junction of the V-shaped table, Homelander sat. With his back to the skyline and his gloved hands folded in front of him, he held the posture of a statue. Ashley had been rambling on and on and fucking on for the past five minutes about shit he couldn't care less about. Her nasally voice bounced off the tile floors and painted ceiling, ricocheting around him like a rogue bullet. Only his impregnable skin didn't protect him from the discomfort of this situation.

It was moments like these that really made him regret killing Stillwell.

That woman knew how to handle things. As manipulative as she could be, at least she wasn't absolutely insufferable. How could Stan let Ashley replace her? She was a poor excuse of just about everything. Absolutely spineless, unintelligent, reactionary, and opportunistic. He really couldn't picture any person on this Earth genuinely liking her.

However in the midst of his mental complaints, he realized that the annoying sound of her speaking was directed at him. All the other stares in the room were zeroed in on him too. A-Train observed in cautious silence. Noir's goggles reflected Homelander's own image right back at him. Maeve judged with a sideways glance. And Starlight prepared for the worst.

He tore his own bright blue eyes from the door opposite the table and refocused them on Ashley. They scanned over her thinning ginger locks down to her gaudy outfit - a piss poor attempt at imitating power.

"What?" he asked, his voice cutting through the air with a force similar to one of Maeve's swords.

Ashley blinked in return. Fear swirled in her wide eyes. She tried to maintain that empowered appearance she so desperately wished was real, but he could see the innate urge to cower bubbling within her.

"Was that lineup for the funeral ok with you, Homelander? A-Train and Noir open, Starlight sings, and then you close?" she repeated.

Now it was his turn to blink. Like he could actually give a shit about the order of segments for Translucent's funeral. He swallowed hard. While she projected a mirage of power, he had to do the same with level-headedness.

"That's fine, Ashley. Have those two go first, and Starlight can follow up with Amazing Grace or whatever shitty hymns they teach in that hick town she's from, and then I can finish us out," he responded.

He could see how her knuckles were going white around the edge of her clipboard. She gripped it for comfort, as if that could save her from his potential wrath. It only irritated him more. If he wanted her dead, he would turn her to ashes where she stood. How hard she braced herself in advance wouldn't matter in the slightest. But people could be so foolish in moments of terror.

"Well speaking of that," she said before clearing her throat, an attempt at a natural transition, "We were trying to decide what song she would sing. Maybe one of our originals? Or do you think it would be more tasteful to go with something from an outside source?"

Gritting his teeth, he buried the urge to unleash the bright beams of red from his sockets. His hands slid off one another and pressed down onto the cool table.

"Do you really need me to decide what song is going to send Translucent to the grave?" he replied, "I don't care what you play, and no one else attending will either. They'll be focused on working up some tears for the useless dipshit they never had the displeasure of knowing. Instead of trying to gain their approval, we should be working on finding the next member of the Seven who can replace him. There's no use dwelling on the past. We need to be preparing for the future."

He paused to let his words permeate the room, giving everyone a chance to absorb the sentiment and adapt accordingly. With his pupils still trained on Ashley, he planned on continuing his tirade, but his train of thought came to an abrupt halt.

Soft pitter-patters of footsteps clacked down the hall outside this room. They sounded in a delicate rhythm, only audible to him. As they grew louder, he caught the scent of the source too. Airy and light. A stark contrast to the brash perfume Ashley doused herself in.

The doors at the front of the room slid apart to reveal you.

You stood there for a moment. The realization that you'd interrupted something was visible in your eyes. The small spheres cast down as you wobbled in like a fawn that sensed wolves watching from nearby.

Ashley turned to face you, a glower already set on her features. The resentment she held for everyone else in this building awoke from its usual dormant slumber because there was finally someone weaker she could take it out on.

Once you reached her, your hand rose and gave her a thin stack of papers. 

"I'm sorry for interrupting. It's a memo from 82. They made it sound urgent," you explained, everything about your temperament meek and timid.

After a brief pause to let you marinate in the few moments before your inevitable humiliation, she snatched the papers from you. Her eyes roamed over the page with disinterest. Even if the information conveyed by the small black letters was important, he doubted she would give it any reaction. She wanted to lash out, and she was going to, whether it was justified or not.

"They couldn't have emailed me this?" she snapped, as if that was something you could control.

"I don't know. I'm sorry. I'll check next time," you offered.

"You better or you'll run out of next times," she threatened, "Incompetence like this won't fly here. You're in the big leagues now, so act like it. Think before you do something instead of taking commands like a lap dog."

"I'm sorry," you replied, ducking your head again.

"Don't be sorry, just do better," she commanded.

"I will," you agreed.

"Good. Just get out of here now. Go pick up my lunch," she told you.

His lips curled into a scowl as he watched the scene play out. It was pathetic - not you, but Ashley. He hated seeing the fucking smirk on her face as you walked away. She had nothing to be smug about. She was nothing more than a feral coyote going after the scraps the other predators didn't take.

To make matters worse, when she returned her attention to the group at the table, she saw the look on his face. She saw the disdain, but instead of striking regret into her, it only deepened her sense of self-satisfaction.

She thought the look was for you. That he was disgusted with your mistake. Annoyed with your intrusion.

He couldn't have that. Not when that assumption was the farthest thing from the truth. Honestly, he didn't know if he was even capable of feeling such ire towards you. Not his precious little fawn.

Rising from his seat, his glare remained on Ashley. She did show a little fear then.

"You know, I don't have all day, Ashley. I'll open Translucent's funeral, Starlight will follow up with a song, and that will be it. A-Train and Noir can have the day off, because let's be honest, nobody will give shit either way," he mocked.

"But, sir-" she said, clearly confused by his sudden impending departure.

"I have more important things to deal with. If you need anything else, I'm sure one of the others can help you," he dismissed.

With that, he stepped back from the table and began heading to the doors. He hoped if he was fast enough he could still catch you. Even in a building as sleek and modern as this one, the elevators could be quite slow.

Walking out into the hall, his head swiveled in the direction you would have gone. For once, his own portrait didn't catch his eye. He didn't even think about stopping by Stillwell's office to reminisce. Instead, he just headed down towards the elevator. His red boots thudded across smooth tile in rapid succession, covering the path you'd just taken.

Finally, after a few feet, he spotted you. Bottom lip pulled between your teeth. Eyes glossy with embarrassment. Tip of your polished shoe tapping against the ground. You startled when his voice boomed across the space, calling out your name. So cute.

You looked at him with fear in your eyes, but disgust didn't fester in the pit of his stomach like it did when others gave him that anxious stare. Another feeling bloomed inside him, one he couldn't really place. It was just that the nervous gleam over your pupils didn't make him hate himself and all the circumstances of his life that put him in his position.

Instead, your wide eyes and pouty lips made him feel strong. You made him feel like a hero. A real one, not the artificial caricature that Vought projected to the world. With you nearby, he felt like the kind of guy who deserved the American flag blowing off his back with a pretty girl cradled in his arms and a dead enemy at his feet. When you gazed up at him, he could only imagine that the pride rushing through his chest and confidence pooling between his hips was the feeling his creators intended for him.

"Did you need something from me, sir?" you asked, reminding him that he actually had to provide a reason to talk to you. Just wanting to stare at you like a psychopath would not suffice unfortunately.

"Oh no," he waved off, "The meeting just finished up. I was heading out too. I saw you, and I realized I haven't really taken the time to get to know you yet, which is unfortunate because I usually like to be familiar with the newer people we have working with us."

A complete lie. Before you, he didn't remember ever giving any of the interns a second glance. They were true nuisances. They were Ashleys.

"Oh... well I'm around whenever you wanna talk. Ashley keeps me busy, but I'm sure I could make an exception for you," you replied.

"You absolutely can make an exception for me," he chuckled, "If Ashley gives you any trouble, just let me know, and I'll make sure she remembers who's really in charge around here."

It wasn't until he heard your heart rate increase that he realized those words probably came off as threatening. Well, they were threatening, but you weren't supposed to see him that way.

"I'm kidding," he forced out with a laugh, "Just joking around like I do... I just don't want you to worry about getting in some kind of trouble for me sniffing around you."

You huffed out an awkward laugh of your own and nodded.  "I'll be sure to make some time for you in the future then and let Ashley know it was at your direction."

"Great," he said with probably too much enthusiasm. 

His jaw clenched into one of his usual tight smiles. He averted his eyes from you and looked towards the numbers on the elevator. Fuck, it was reaching the bottom. He didn't want to let you go, but it wasn't like he could just stroll down the street with you to go get Ashley's lunch. His mind scrambled to come up with a solution.

But like your earlier intrusion into the meeting, your gentle voice cuts through the hurricane forming in his head.

"Are you alright, sir?" you ask, anxious concern written all over your features.

He refocused on you and nodded. His arm extended out behind you, his palm landing against the elevator wall. As he leaned in, he could smell your adrenaline spiking. He could hear the shift of your shoe against the ground. If only he possessed a sixth sense for the mind, so he could know what little thoughts about him were flitting through your head.

"I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me," he answered. He smiled down at you, observing the slight nod you gave him in return.

"Of course not. It probably seems silly coming from me," you said.

His brows raised in amusement. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

He saw the flash of regret in your eyes. The one people always gave him when he asked a question in that tone. The one that came from the panic of realizing they may have said something that offended Homelander.

You suppressed it pretty well though and brought out a smile that gave the impression that you hoped he was messing with you instead.

"Well you know... because you're you," you said and tilted your head in an innocent way that made his chest ache.

He chuckled that charming, prepackaged laugh that had been trained into him. "Even I can appreciate someone taking an interest in checking on me," he replied.

It was maddening, how bad he wanted you. He wasn't even sure when this craving had sprouted inside him. He had been so preoccupied with his affinity for Stillwell that his fixation with you struck him like a glass window in front of a flying bird. But no matter the timeframe in which it blossomed, it had taken root by now and wasn't going to go away on its own.

When he looked at you like this - staring up at him with earnest fascination - his mind drifted to darker places all on its own. He couldn't stop it if he wanted to (and really, he didn't want to). It's just how was he not supposed to be aware of the fact that it would be all too easy to take you back to his room? How could he not think about what it would feel like to have your fragile body beneath his own in private? How could he not wonder what you'd sound like crying out in a sinful mix of pleasure and pain?

Hell, how was he supposed to pretend like he couldn't just bend you over and fuck you dumb right here in the middle of this elevator if he wanted to? No one would be able to stop him. There wouldn't be a thing they could do other than watch. They could stare in horror as he used you like he deserved, as he pounded into your warm, soft, dripping hole like he needed...

Unfortunately, painting that picture in his head had his blood rushing South. He felt the subtle simmer of desire in his pelvis, and he knew in no time his length would be filling out. This suit gave him no way of hiding it either. Clearly, whoever made it hadn't anticipated the Homelander popping a boner on the job.

But luckily for him, the elevator chimed with its arrival at the bottom floor. He straightened out as you looked ahead in preparation of your departure. But before you could go, he grabbed your arm. His touch was tender, holding the same force he'd use when cradling a baby at a photo-op.

"Maybe later tonight you'd like to take me up on one of those talks? After you're done for the day, you could stop by my place. The sooner the better, right?" he asked.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, but you still nodded. "Um... sure thing. I'll head up once I've finished all my work. It should be around six if that's ok?" you offered.

"Yeah, that works for me. I'll be waiting," he said in an attempt to be playful.

You smiled once more and then headed out of the elevator. His fingertips dragged down your arm to your wrist as you walked away before you finally slipped from his grasp. He could hear your heart pounding faster than your footsteps as you headed towards the exit of the building.

At six o'clock sharp, a knock sounded through his penthouse. And it only took him a few seconds to swing the door open and greet you.

"There she is," he beamed with exaggerated politeness.

You smiled modestly in return, shrugging and smoothing out a crease in your blouse. "I couldn't let the leader of the seven down," you joked.

He scoffed but opened the door wider, beckoning you into his place. You took the invitation and crossed the threshold. Your eyes glanced around the place, taking note of all the things in the apartment that housed the most powerful man on Earth.

The American flag taking up an entire wall almost stopped you in your tracks. It would've been funny if it was someone else, but because it belonged to him, it stood there like a warning. You tried not to show how daunting you found it. Average people could be touchy about that famous piece of cloth. You didn't want to find out if the strongest supe felt the same through means of offending him. 

In place of letting that bother you, you shifted your attention over to all the historical pictures hanging on the walls and the sleek surfaces and drawers filled with things you couldn't begin to imagine. Your eyes casted over the statues accenting the space as well. It was all so very polished. It looked like what you'd expect the Homelander entry in an Ikea catalog to be.

"So what do you think?" he asked. He knew his words came off as stiff. Probably a little stilted sounding. He just couldn't help it. For the first time, he couldn't get a read on how you felt through physical signs alone. And right now, he really really wanted you to like him.

"It's... impressive," you answered.

But he could hear the hesitation in your voice. In each word, there was the same wavering quality to it that you get when Ashley grilled you in front of an audience. It wasn't the precious reverence that he saw in the elevator. The nervous kind of admiration you held for someone above your standing. This was just plain anxiety, and that served no purpose to him. 

Despite your trepidation however, you walked forward to the window at the back of the place. You looked out over the city in awe.

"I would love to live somewhere high up like this," you said.

He came up from behind to stand next to you in front of the glass panes. His eyes landed on your face. You stared out the window, wonder twinkling in your eyes. Your voice sounded almost breathless. It was adorable.

"No fear of heights?" he asked.

"Not when it comes to being inside. Maybe I'd be nervous if we were on a balcony or something," you replied.

"Oh come on. You'd have nothing to worry about if you were with me. I'd never let you fall," he said, dropping his voice a few octaves.

You made that cute little face again when those words hit your ears. Your eyes widened before they fell to look at your shoes. So modest, the way you shied away. He wondered if you were always so timid or if it was only when a god amongst men like himself flirted with you.

He chuckled and reached out, tilting your chin back up to look at him. "You don't need to be nervous," he soothed, "There's no safer place to be than with the Homelander, right?"

You nodded right along. His words left no room for objection.

"Good girl," he smirked and dragged a gloved thumb over your cheek. He pulled his hand back and stepped in the direction of the brown leather sectional that sat in the middle of the room.

"Come over here and sit down. We can talk," he directed.

Following him to the large couch, you took your seat near the corner. You assumed he'd sit at the other end or at least towards the middle of the perpendicular cushions, but no. He sat down in the corner with you. His body was at most a foot away.

He continued to smile at you though he didn't speak. It felt odd, sitting there in silence across from him. He wasn't doing anything overtly threatening, yet you still felt at his mercy.

"So, do you like it here so far? Do you feel like you're fitting into the Vought family?" he asked with a bit of an edge to that second word.

You nodded again. A relieved breath seeped from your lungs as the tense void in conversation came to an end. "Yeah, it's nice here. I feel like I'm learning a lot."

He chuckled and leaned back against the stiff backing of the sofa. His muscular arm draped along the top. Though it wasn't his intention to draw your focus there, he caught the way your eyes dragged over his bicep.

"That's good," he said, "It can be a lot when you're new. I wouldn't want you feeling overwhelmed."

"That's nice of you. I appreciate it, but I'm used to a busy schedule," you replied.

"You're freshly graduated, aren't you?" he checked.

"Yeah," you said, your lips quirking upwards at his guess.

"I thought so. You have that cute, wide-eyed, optimistic thing going for you."

A small laugh leaves your lips. "I know. Ashley said I'll grow out of it by the end of this quarter."

His face dropped, and he almost abandoned the prince charming act he was attempting to pull off for you. The mere mention of Ashley was enough to irk him, but the thought that she was trying to change you? Not only change you but jade you. To strip away the soft and sweet qualities that hooked him on you in the first place. It was criminal. He couldn't hide his disdain.

"You shouldn't listen to her," he said. He wasn't angry, but his cadence held intensity. "Ashley's problem is Ashley. To be honest, I don't even know why they gave her an intern. It's not like she'd be good at teaching anything when she still doesn't understand most things about our business herself."

Your fingers dug into the edge of your seat. It wouldn't have been significant in a normal conversation, but when speaking with a man who could hear a pin drop forty stories down, he noticed.

"You're still nervous," he observed.

In an instant, your hands flew to your lap, like you knew what gave your anxiety away. You fidgeted with the hem of your skirt and shrugged.

"A little," you admitted.

"Are you scared of me?" he asked.

You shook your head without even thinking about the question.

"No, it's not that. I swear," you reassured, "It's just that this is a big deal for me. I'm really honored you want to get to know me, and I just want to make a good impression."

"You don't need to worry about that. I wouldn't have invited you here if I didn't have a good impression of you," he said.

You sighed slightly, letting out a bit of tension, but he could still smell that boosted cortisol running through your blood.

"Come here," he ordered, his voice soft but undeniably firm.

"What?" you asked.

A puff of amused air blew from his nostrils. "Come here," he repeated, "Sit closer."

As if you needed the guidance, he patted the space directly beside his hip. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes even after the gesture. The lack of understanding toward his reasoning persisted. Regardless of your skepticism however, you scooted in his direction and ended up where he wanted you.

"That's better," he said.

With careful fingers, he slipped the glove off his right hand. Your eyes locked on it in subtle awe. You'd seen this man on billboards and commercials for years. His face dominated newscasts. His voice broadcast over the radio on a weekly basis. Still, you had never seen such a human part of him. Five fingers and a palm reaching for your own.

They clasped around your hand. His skin was smooth. The gloves preserved them from any marks of experience.

"Did Ashley warn you about me?" he asked, drawing your eyes back to his own.

Your heart thundered, but you couldn't lie. Never had Vought bragged about Homelander being a human lie detector, but in this moment, you felt like that was the case.

"Yes," you responded.

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "You didn't believe her, did you?" he asked.

You could tell he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear it.

"Yes," you whispered again.

"What did she tell you?"

It was hard to remember that conversation you'd had a few weeks ago with Ashley. Feeling like you were two seconds away from having lasers beamed through your skull made minute details fuzzy and distant, but you manage to choke a few out anyways.

"She said that you have a very specific vision for the Seven, and that you'll do anything to make your dreams reality. She was just saying you're ambitious. That you care about the greater good," you summarized.

"I have a feeling you're saying it a lot nicer than she did," he teased. He could feel the fear rolling off of you in waves, and in a moment, he would rectify that. But for right now, he didn't mind letting his precious little fawn tremble in terror for a few moments more.

"Yeah, she can be kind of blunt," you said with a shaky laugh.

"That's one word for it," he said.

"She's not gonna get in trouble because of what I said, is she?" you asked.

He couldn't help laughing at that. The sound came out low and throaty. You were just so fucking pure. Worried about protecting someone who wouldn't hesitate for a second to sell you out if it meant she could climb up another rung on the corporate ladder.

His exposed thumb rubbed back and forth over your knuckles. "No. Of course not. We're just talking," he said.

He leaned in closer to you, positioning his mouth in close proximity to your ear. His free hand came up to cup your jaw.

"I appreciate your honesty though. Ashley probably couldn't tell you this, but I appreciate a loyal girl like you," he murmured.

On both your hand and through his glove in contact with your chin, he could feel your skin heat up.

"Oh... thank you, sir," you said.

He chuckled. His fingers squished into the flesh of your cheeks, making your lips puff out as though they were seeking a kiss.

"So polite, but I like that. We need more people here who understand their place," he said.

At this point, the gravity of your circumstances began to settle on you. Your fear had worn off a bit, and you realized what a compromising position he had you in. With one tight squeeze, he could crush every bone in your face.

Out of instinct, you tried pulling back a little. You didn't make it obvious, only attempting to gain a few inches of space.

That was a few inches too many though. He tightened his grip and kept you where he wanted you.

"Ah ah," he tutted, "How many times do I have to tell you that you don't need to be scared? I'm not going to hurt you."

You dropped the resistance right then and there. It wasn't worth pursuing. If he didn't want you getting away, you weren't getting away.

He took a few more seconds to study your face, taking in every minutiae of your expressions. Then, his hands dropped to your waist, and he pulled you into his lap. His thighs were firm against your ass, both rigid in how he carried himself and defined from the pure muscle that made them up.

His hands smoothed up and down your sides, coasting over each crease in your blouse. He massaged your soft tissue with gentle squeezes from the beginning of your bra down to the swell of your hips.

"God, you're beautiful," he muttered, "You fit here like you were made for me."

You vibrated in his grasp. He could feel the way you quivered with the urge to pull away.

"Thank you, s-sir," you stammered, "I really appreciate it but-"

"But nothing," he cut you off.

"But I don't think we should be... doing this," you tried to continue anyway.

"Why not?" he asked. Though his tone made it obvious that no matter what reason you provided, it wouldn't change his mind.

"Because you're like my boss, y'know? And I worked really hard to get my spot here, and I don't want people thinking I slept my way to where I am," you explained, "You're really nice, and I admire you a lot, but it wouldn't be right."

He didn't respond immediately. He paused and let your words hang in the air for a few moments.

"You know," he finally spoke, "I don't think you understand how things work around here. It doesn't matter what anyone else in this building thinks. Only me."

You blinked at him, unsure of how to respond to such an assertion. It didn't matter though. He continued without your input.

"What I do with you, how I feel about you - no one else will know about it unless you tell them. But even if you do and even if they care, there isn't a thing they'll do about it. There's not a thing they can do about it," he continued.

"I still don't think it's a good idea," you maintained.

"Good thing this isn't for you to think about then," he mocked, "You're a fast learner. You'll figure it out soon enough. I am God in this tower. And a god doesn't listen to his subjects. He guides them. He knows best."

One of his hands slid up your tummy and over your chest onto your throat. He cupped your jaw and swiped his thumb back and forth across your bottom lip.

"What did Ashley tell you about me?" he asked.

"That no one gets in your way."

"Good. And she was right. No one gets in my way. Nothing stops me from getting what I want. And I've wanted you for too fucking long not to try you out."

That set of fingers on your chin pulled your face towards his and brought you into a kiss. You froze against his lips. It felt as though all of time stopped. This high up, you couldn't hear the sounds of the city outside the penthouse. No one existed in this moment but you and him.

Unlike you, he melted into the exchange. He sighed against your skin and pulled you flush against his toned body. After a second to let you come to terms with what was happening, he kissed you again. His lips sucked on yours gently, attempting to coax you into returning the affection.

The most he got is you puckering them up ever so slightly.

He pulled away with frustration in his eyes and grabbed your face, jerking you a little to look at him.

"Don't act like you don't want this. I know you do," he said, "You're scared, but you don't need to be. Relax and let yourself enjoy this. It's not everyday that the most powerful man on earth wants to fuck you."

Your eyes blew up like little saucers, but before you could really process the directness of what he'd said, he was kissing you again. This time it wasn't as nerve wracking. You softened up a little and kissed back.

You didn't put much effort into it. Your lips responded like this was a juvenile first date. But he didn't let up. He didn't let you give him anything less than your best. His hands roamed across your body. They groped and fondled your breasts and then migrated South to feel up your ass through your pencil skirt.

Your muscles started to loosen up after a minute or so. You told yourself this wasn't so bad. He was being gentle so far, and for someone with his abilities, you wanted it to stay that way. You brought your hand up to his face and cupped his cheek. With that as leverage, you deepened the kiss.

He groaned as soon as you started to give in. His hands fell to your hips and tugged you so that you were straddling him. He smacked your ass, the sound echoing around his apartment. You could tell he held back. A real spank from Homelander could shatter your hip, but this one barely even stung. Maybe he did like you.

His fingers came up and with a sharp tug, he popped the front of your top loose. The column of buttons sprung free. The strips of cloth fell away to each of your sides, exposing a sliver of your skin. He furthered it by pulling off the garment entirely. His eyes trailed along your bare shoulders to your collar bone before finally landing on your breasts. He gave them a firm squeeze, kneading them through the barrier of your bra.

Meanwhile you rolled your hips down on his lap. Immediately, you felt his bulge that had risen to attention between your thighs. You did it again and then again. Each time you ground yourself against him with more pressure.

He grunted, and his eyes fluttered. His hands returned to your waist and gripped you hard, guiding your movements. He seemed transfixed for a few moments, as if he couldn't decide his next move.

After a few seconds though, he got his momentum back. He yanked you off his lap and flipped over so that you were seated on the couch again.

He rose to his feet before you. There your eyes scanned over his body from his tousled blond hair and his kiss-swollen red lips to his sculpted abdomen and his swelling erection. You reached out to touch him, but he stopped your hand mid-air.

Once your arm was limp on the couch again, he removed his other glove. He dropped it to the floor before bringing his right boot to the spot on the sofa next to you. He unzipped the red shoe and then discarded it like he had with the other item. The other boot followed the same routine.

"I don't let just anyone see me like this," he told you as his fingers began to undo his collar, "You should feel lucky."

Lucky wasn't the word you would use to describe your feelings in this situation. Maybe special. Or distinct. Individual. Either way, you continued to watch. Your eyes glided over his figure as he pulled away the tight blue costume that seemed like a second-skin for how much he wore it.

His defined chest came into view. Your reluctance hadn't vanished all together just yet, but at this point, it was fading fast. Pale hair dusted the muscular expanse and trailed down his stomach to the waistband of the bottoms. The waistband he soon hooked his fingers over and peeled down.

He dropped the scaled navy fabric to the ground before kicking it away, leaving himself in just a small pair of boxers. His hand came down and rubbed the swollen tent at the front while his eyes lingered on you.

"Do you want to touch?" he asked.

You nodded. It wasn't a hard decision. This was still a bad idea. You hadn't changed your mind on that. But at this point, what else was there to do? Defying Homelander wasn't an option for anyone on this planet ever. You were no different.

"Ask," he commanded.

"Please can I touch you?" you said.

"Please what?"

"Please, sir. Can I touch you?"

"Good girl," he praised before nodding, "Go for it."

You reached out, this time successfully. Your palm landed flat on his stomach. You held it there for a moment, just feeling his skin. In a way, it was unreal. To feel that someone propped up on the world's pedestal was flesh and blood like you.

Rubbing up and down, you continued getting a feel for his body. He smirked at your wonder before guiding you up by the elbow.

"Stand up and do it right," he said.

"Sorry."

The word came from your mouth automatically. You brought your other hand up to his chest and felt the muscles in his chest. Everything was so built. You expected that, but it was still odd to feel beneath your fingertips. He felt like a living ken doll. You almost didn't believe if he dropped his boxers there would be a real cock there.

Your hands traced up to his shoulders with precision. They explored down his biceps and forearms. And then finally, you brought your lips into his chest. He sighed and tilted his head back, relishing the feeling.

You kissed all over, swirling your tongue and tracing shapes onto his skin. It was almost entrancing, to be so focused on someone like this. You barely noticed as he turned the two of you and sat himself down on the couch, lowering you to your knees.

You worked your mouth down his abs, licking and kissing the twitching muscles. Your fingernails scraped up his sides and then down onto his thighs. When your lips reached the waistband of his boxers, your eyes glanced up at him.

"Can I take them off, sir?" you asked.

He smirked at the title. Only one word of correction and he'd trained that phrase into you.

"Yes," he answered. It was a simple answer. All that was required for someone so naturally obedient.

You took it in stride, tucking your fingers over the elastic and tearing them down. His hard cock popped up and slapped against his pelvis. You couldn't have been happier about your earlier ken doll theory being proven wrong. The sight of his dick was enough to make you drool. It was better than any work of art out there.

It rested against his body at the perfect length, the perfect girth. The tip flushed beautiful red and pearly white beads of precum smeared at the top. Your fingers wrapped around it and gave it a few strokes, testing the waters.

His hand came down and petted your head. He watched as you studied the appendage, as you experimented with your own touch. It was so fucking cute he thought he might cum right then and there. Fuck, he thought you were sweet every moment he had eyes on you, but right now, you were darling. You were doing as he said. Accepting your place at the feet of a superior being.

"Put it in your mouth," he said from above, "I want you to taste it."

There was no hesitation on your end this time around.

"Yes sir," you responded before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around his cock.

He groaned and let his chest hollow out with a harsh exhale. Your mouth was so warm and wet, nice and snug around his length. He rocked his hips up, pushing it further into your throat. He expected a small gag or sputter, but instead you moaned. You shut your eyes and flattened your tongue against his shaft before beginning to bob your head.

"Fuck," he hissed. His legs tensed up, and he pressed down on your head. That did get a tiny gag out of you. You gripped his hips to stabilize yourself though and stayed in place. Your nose nestled against the darker curls of hair that sat at the base of his cock.

Spit leaked from your mouth and dribbled onto his skin below. He took a few moments to just enjoy the feeling of his dick down your throat. The sight of his sweet, innocent girl choking on his cock. Then he let you pull off and catch your breath. 

You took a few deep puffs, letting the spots clear from your vision before you dove back in for more. Your hand stroked the lower part of him your mouth didn't cover in its shallow sucks while your other set of fingers caressed his balls tenderly.

He'd never experienced devotion. As much as it pained him to ever acknowledge, his sexual experiences had been lackluster up until now. There were the times with Maeve, but they always left something to be desired for him. Then there was the time with Stillwell that ended before it really started. In either case, no one had ever put all of themselves into pleasuring him like you were doing right now. It drove him wild. He could feel his sac tightening up, and he knew he had to get you off.

Planting one hand on each side of your head, he tugged you back. You looked up at him with glossy, cock-drunk eyes and saliva-coated lips. He swiped some of the mess away before addressing you.

"You're doing so good for me, but I think you're ready for more, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," you agreed.

"My perfect pet," he crooned and pulled you up onto the couch.

He laid you flat on your back and ripped your skirt and panties off in one go. His eyes drank in the sight of your nude lower half, but he didn't spend much time savoring it. He spread you out, slotting himself against your center.

With a few rocks of his hips, he dragged his length through your wetness. He let the sticky fluid coat his shaft, and then he sunk in. His tip bullied its way into your entrance and the rest of him followed. You whined at the stretch. Your walls clamped around him, eager to accept the intrusion.

"Atta girl," he grunted as he worked himself all the way in.

His hips connected with your ass, but he still bucked them, trying to get more. You yelped at the force. He was already buried inside you. Anymore and his tip would be nudging the entrance to your womb.

Fortunately for you, he pulled his hips back, giving you a short break from feeling so full. It was short lived though. Seconds later he snapped back in. That began the quick rhythm he set into. It was desperate and needy, emotions he'd tried to hide until this point.

You whimpered as your body bobbed with the momentum. His thrusts bounced you back and forth. The sounds of his body smacking against yours filled the room. His fingers dug into your waist hard enough to bruise. You didn't complain about the minor pain though because you could tell he was holding back in every other regard. If a few marks on your side kept you from being pulverized by a super cock, then that was a burden you were willing to carry.

Above you, he starts to pant. His breaths leave him raggedly huffing, sucking down what oxygen he can get in the midst of rutting into you. He tilts his head down at you and gazes at your blissed out face with lidded eyes.

"I could have anyone. Any person on this Earth would be mine if I wanted them to be. But the only one I want is you. Doesn't that feel good?" he breathed.

"Yes!" you cried out. Your back arched up off the couch. "Feels so fucking good, sir."

He leaned into you more, squishing your body into the surface below. Your thighs pressed against your tummy as he bent you.

"Yeah, it does," he grunted, "It's all there is. It's all you need to think about. How you're all mine."

"Mhm," you whined with a lazy nod. You were getting closer to cumming and responding to his words was taking a lower priority in your mind.

"And to think you tried to deny yourself of it," he mocked. He clenched his jaw and slammed into you harder.

You shrieked and clutched his shoulders. In the back of your mind, you hoped his penthouse was sound proofed or at least enough distance from the nearest one. Otherwise you wouldn't have to tell anyone about this incident for it to spread throughout the tower.

"I knew better, didn't I? I knew this is what you needed," he said.

Again, you nodded. You felt the heat in your belly reaching the boiling point.

"Say it," he huffed.

You tried to force it out, but your own hiccuped sob of pleasure cut you off. He didn't give you a break though. He stared down at you with expectation, so you continued.

"You know best- uh, fuck- you know best, sir," you whined.

"Good fucking girl," he growled on top of you.

He was already close from the blowjob you'd given him. Only a few strokes more, and he was ready to explode. He swiveled his hips, angling them upwards to pound into that special spot that would make you see stars and stripes.

You mewled when you came. Your body trembled harder than it did when you were scared. Arousal gushed out of you and coated his skin. He huffed and buried his face in your neck before letting go.

Everything faded into the background as you laid underneath him in the haze that came after the absolute high of pleasure. Now you could feel his heartbeat too. The organ thundered against his chest over and over as he came down.

Minutes later he pulled back. His knuckles caressed down your jawline before he climbed off of you entirely. He sat back on the couch and let out a deep breath. You weren't sure whether you were supposed to pick up your stuff and leave or follow along with him and stay close to his side. There was no real indication of what he wanted in this moment, but he turned to smile at you and huffed out a laugh.

"I think I'll keep you with me more often now. Really show you the ropes of fitting in around here."

You sat up and nodded awkwardly. He leaned toward you, cupping your cheek.

"I'll be a much better teacher than Ashley ever was," he said. His arm snaked around you and pulled you to his chest again. "No more errands or coffee runs. I'll show you things you need. Things that you'll enjoy."

He ran his fingers over your face and kissed your temple. The touches were tender against your skin. They would have been romantic if your mind wasn't racing with what this all meant in terms of your job and the grand scheme of your future.

Looking at him though, he wasn't worried at all. He smiled down at you before whispering once more.

"My sweet little pet. All mine now."

[flanaganfilm]

Mr. Flanagan, I’d like to ask a question and I deeply hope that it does not offend or upset you. I am strongly considering canceling my Netflix subscription due to their new password sharing policy. However, Midnight Mass is one of my favorite shows of all time and I know it isn’t available on DVD, and I’m also profoundly anticipating your take on my favorite Edgar Allen Poe story. So I wanted to ask your take on people accessing your work through, uh, other means. If it’s something that’s offensive to you or will harm you or the other people who work so hard on these shows, I’ll happily keep my Netflix just so that I can keep supporting your work. I respect you far too much as an artist to do otherwise.

Again, I really hope I’m not upsetting you by asking this question. Thank you for everything, and I hope you’re having a great day!

(NOTE 6/4/2024: I'm editing this entry because, well over a year since it was posted, some journalists dug this up and used it to create click-bait headlines that are misleading, out of context and artificially combative. While I was of course disappointed over the years that Netflix opted not to release my work on physical media, I never experienced any hostility or aggression in those discussions, and I sincerely regret the manner in which this post was used in the press this week.)

Hi there - no offense taken whatsoever, in fact I think this is a very interesting and important question.

So. If you asked me this a few years ago, I would have said "I hate piracy and it is hurting creators, especially in the independent space." I used to get in Facebook arguments with fans early in my career when people would post about seeing my work on torrent sites, especially when that work was readily available for rent and purchase on VOD.

Back in 2014, my movie Before I Wake was pirated and leaked prior to any domestic release, and that was devastating to the project. It actually made it harder to find distribution for the film. By the time we were able to get distribution in the US, the film had already been so exposed online that the best we could hope for was a Netflix release. Netflix stepped in and saved that movie, and for that I will always be grateful to them.

However...

Working in streaming for the past few years has made me reconsider my position on piracy.

In the years I worked at Netflix, I tried very hard to get them to release my work on blu-ray and DVD.

It became clear very fast that their priority was subscriptions, and that they were not particularly interested in physical media releases of their originals, with a few exceptions.

While companies like Netflix pride themselves on being disruptors, and have proven that they can affect great change in the industry, they sometimes fail to see the difference between disruption and damage. So much that they can find themselves, intentionally or not, doing harm to the concept of film preservation.

The danger comes when a title is only available on one platform, and then - for whatever reason - is removed.

We have already seen this happen. And it is only going to happen more and more. Titles exclusively available on streaming services have essentially been erased from the world. If those titles existed on the marketplace on physical media, like HBO's Westworld, the loss is somewhat mitigated (though only somewhat.) But when titles do not exist elsewhere, they are potentially gone forever.

The list of titles that have been removed from streaming services is growing.

I still believe that where we put our dollars matters. Renting or buying a piece of work that you like is essential. It is casting a vote, encouraging studios - who only speak the language of money - to invest more effort into similar work. If we show up to support distinct, unique, exciting work, it encourages them to make more of it. It's as simple as that. If we don't show up, or if they can't hear our voice because we are casing our vote "silently" through torrent sites or other means - it makes it unlikely that they will take a chance to create that kind of work again.

Which is why I typically suggest that if you like a movie you've seen through - uh - other means, throw a few dollars at that title on a legitimate platform. Rent it. Purchase it. Support it.

But if some studios offer no avenue for that kind of support, and can (and will) remove content from their platform forever... frankly, I think that changes the rules.

Netflix will likely never release the work I created for them on physical media, though I'll always hold out hope.

Some of you may say "wait, aren't The Haunting of Hill House and The Haunting of Bly Manor available on blu-ray and DVD?" Yes, they are, because they were co-produced with Paramount, and I'm grateful that Paramount was able to release and protect those titles. (I'm also grateful that those releases include extended cuts, deleted scenes, and commentary tracks. There are a number of fantastic benefits to physical media releases.)

But a lot of the other work I did there are Netflix originals, without any other studio involvement. Those titles - like Midnight Mass, The Midnight Club, and the upcoming Fall of the House of Usher - along with my Netflix exclusive and/or original movies Before I Wake and Gerald's Game - have no such protections. The physical media releases of those titles are entirely at Netflix's discretion, and don't appear to be priority for the studio at this time.

At the moment, Netflix seems content to leave Before I Wake, Gerald's Game, Midnight Mass, and The Midnight Club on the service, where they still draw audiences. I don't think there is a plan to remove any of them anytime soon. But plans change, the industry changes.

The point is things change, and each of those titles - should they be removed from the service for any reason - are not available anywhere else. If that day comes - if Netflix's servers are destroyed, if a meteor hits the building, if they are bought out by a competitor and their library is liquidated - I don't know what the circumstances might be, I just know that if that day comes, some of the work that means the most to me in the world would be entirely erased.

Or, what if we aren't so catastrophic in our thinking? What if it the change isn't so total? What if Netflix simply bumps into an issue with the license they paid for music (like the Neil Diamond songs that play such a crucial role in Midnight Mass), and decide to leave the show up but replace the songs?

This has happened before as well - fans of Northern Exposure can get the show on DVD and blu-ray, but the music they heard when the series aired has been replaced due to the licensing issues. And the replacements - chosen for their low cost, not for creative reasons - are not improvements. What if the shows are just changed, and not by creatives, but by business affairs executives?

All to say that physical media is critically important. Having redundancy in the marketplace is critically important. The more platforms a piece of work is available on, the more likely it is to survive and grow its audience.

As for Netflix, I hope sincerely that their thinking on this issue evolves, and that they value the content they spend so much money creating enough to protect it for posterity. That's up to them, it's their studio, it's their rules. But I like to think they may see that light eventually, and realize that exclusivity in a certain window is very cool... but exclusivity in perpetuity could potentially limit the audience and endanger the work itself.

[phantomrose96]

Sham Sacrifice

(Hi it's time for my favorite headcanon)

...

Vlad Masters sat firm and proper on the Fenton Family couch, legs crossed, teacup pinched in his fingertips, fighting subtly against the sinkhole that came with the mistake of taking Jack’s usual spot on the couch. He appeared with all the same charm and delightfulness of an ant swarm rearranging your picnic.

Danny stood at the doorway, just-still-in-the-kitchen, just not inviting himself to join the adults in the living room where Jack boomed and rambled and Vlad sat so stiff and polite and nice that his tea in his hands was going cold.

“Oh, Danny you’ll love this story—Danny, you should join us—Danny this was, what, summer of ’84? When was that heatwave, Vladdy? The one where you—”

“There’s no need to bore Daniel with the mad ravings of two old kooks, Jack. Kids would rather be off at the mall or—some store, surely. No need to stick around Daniel on my behalf. I assure you I won’t be offended if you leave.”

“No worries, V-man. I’m good right here. I love hearing Dad’s stories." Danny met Vlad's challenge, speaking with more poisonous courtesy than Vlad had proffered first. "In fact I think he should tell a few more, if he’s got more in mind.”

“In fact I do have more in mind—” Jack answered.

Neither Danny nor Vlad were listening to Jack. They held eye-contact, Danny with a stern unblinkingness of a sheepdog on duty. A lot was said without words. A lot was understood when Vlad decided to visit through the front door. Vlad only used the front door when he wanted something.

And it was never good when Vlad wanted something.

“—the core reactor project, yeah? That summer? That was in the lab with no A/C. Top floor. We were sweating like pigs, all of us. And I dared you to eat the really moldy pizza from our fridge the night before and you ralphed right into—”

“—Surely you remember this more fondly than I do. Daniel, really, you can go.”

Not a chance.

“Actually,” Danny answered, brightening some as his opportunity struck. “I am interested in this. For science class I need to write a report on the invention of an important piece of technology. I was gonna ask Mom and Dad about the Ghost Portal. And now that you’re here, I can get the whole history.”

Jack made a giddy little noise. He leaned forward, words primed, but Vlad was quicker to the draw.

“Sorry to say, your faith in me is unfounded. I wasn’t the portal guy back in college—that was always your mother and father’s passion project. I was their skeptic.”

“Bet that’s got you feeling pretty foolish right now, doesn’t it V-man?” Jack chided, a quick jab to Vlad’s ribs that nearly unseated the teacup from his suspended saucer. “Considering the fully-functioning portal right beneath our toes.”

“I hardly feel foolish, Jack. Your calculation for the portal in college was never going to work.”

“What do you mean? Of course it did.” Jack thumped the ground with his foot. “It’s running the old girl right now.”

At this, Vlad’s eyes narrowed. For the first time he’d been shaken off whatever skeezy machinations had brought him in. His pride was being challenged, and by Jack no less.

“Absolutely not. With that calculation? Absolutely not.”

“Well forget the tea biscuits Vlad, because you’re going to be eating your words in a second. Mads, hold my spot,” Jack said, as if anyone was planning to take his spot. He bounced from the couch, scooted from the living room, and vanished into the dark maw of the lab stairs, leaving only the waning beat of his footsteps behind.

His absence filled only a swallowing few seconds. The footsteps returned, bounding upward, creaking with his heavy cadence, and Jack bounced back into the room in much the manner he left. A pad of yellow lined paper was clutched in his hand. When he dropped it on the coffee table, it revealed row after row of tight scribble, churning math, carrying down the page and occupying two entire pages more that Jack flipped through.

“Same baby I came up with in college. It just needed heavier dampening and higher voltage than what we made back then. The portal downstairs has that in spades. Well, in like two-thirds of a spade.” Jack tapped something on the last line. “The projection was still only hitting 70% of the threshold we calculated to reach dimension penetration. But it’s an art, not just a science. We fired it up anyway, and it took!”

Vlad grabbed the paper pad, agitated. His eyes ran over it. Then again. Until he settled on one line, a firmness overcoming his face. He tossed the pad back onto the coffee table, and Vlad leaned back into the couch, arms crossed.

“The lambda, Jack.”

“The lambda?”

“Check it again.”

Jack did, lips pursed, pad of paper nearly swallowed in his big meaty hand.

“What about--?”

“It squares. The units don’t balance otherwise. It originates from an integration step of λ*∂λ/∂t. It squares.”

Jack’s brow remained furrowed, firm, until delight cracked into his eyes, and he let out a laugh.

“Gods, my handwriting is gonna be the death of us. Mads,” he tapped something unseen on the second page. “That’s the genius of Vladdy. Cracked this puppy wide open with just a glance. I never noticed that in all my checking. That explains the missing 30%, at least. That explains how the portal took. Lucky for you Danny that Vlad was here—”

“Jack,” Maddie said.

“—your report can have the correct formula. It’ll be—”

“—Jack—”

“—A+ worthy—”

“—Jack,” Maddie said, curt. “Lambda is the ambient ecto-energy. It’s a few ten-thousandths of a unit.”

“It—huh.”

Maddie had surfaced a pen from her pocket. She sheared a few blank pages out from the back of the pad and started the formula fresh. She made quick work of copying it over, quicker work of solving it through – lambda-squared intact.

She hit the final line and hatched a pen mark beneath the number. Jack stared, confused.

“That can’t… no.”

He repeated the same. New pages torn loose. Formula copied over, processed, line by line by line—lambda squared—by line by line by line.

Jack settled on his answer. Same as Maddie’s.

Confusion made his face tense.

“So it’s not 70% of the way to the threshold… It’s 0.013% of the way to the threshold.”

He held the pen hard, his whole body holding firm and taut as the gears turned in his head. Jack’s eyes flickered across the formula, again and again and again. He looked to Maddie, like a dog issued a command he did not understand.

“But it worked,” he said, small. “But it worked.”

Jack stood, robotic almost, eyes lost in something far away. He disappeared into the lab almost as quickly as he had a few minutes before, but now he exited with a smoothness and a quietness so very uncharacteristic of him. It bothered Danny, somewhere deep in his gut.

Maddie followed, a possession matching Jack’s.

Danny’s fingers curled and uncurled. He’d succeeded. He’s successfully interrupted Vlad’s… whatever this was. But the disquiet infected him. He didn’t like it.

“So what does that mean?” Danny asked, perhaps to Vlad. “What’s wrong with the calculation?”

Vlad sipped on tea ice cold.

“Who knows?” Vlad lied.

…

The math didn’t work.

Maddie and Jack burned through paper, burned through pencils, burned through hours.

The math didn’t work.

Clothes stuck to skin. Sweat lingered fetid and stale in the cold basement air. Exhaustion beat like a slurry through their veins.

The math didn’t work.

The portal supervised all, placidly green, the light for their table, the light for their work when the lightbulb overhead burnt clean out and neither Jack nor Maddie could be pulled away to replace it. It stood, it watched, a testament of contradiction to everything they could not solve on paper, and yet everything they built directly into the fabric of reality.

And it should never have worked.

They threw every radical what-if they’d ever conceived over 20 years of ghost research.

The ecto-ether layer.

The latent activation stitches in space fabric.

The anti-ectomatter collision proposal.

The positive-feedback crystallization theory.

And still nothing worked.

All together, every crackpot theory in their favor taken for granted, racked them up to an activation energy 200x more potent than the calculation, and still just 2% of what would be needed to rip open, and hold open, a stable fissure between their reality and the ghost zone.

Maybe by pure luck, unfathomable luck, Fentonworks basement was directly situated atop a natural portal.

Maybe that would explain ripping it open. It did nothing to explain the stability. Natural portals were unstable by definition. There and gone in a few seconds. Not hours, days, weeks, months, a year, that the Fenton Portal had been open. Never so much as faltering.

It was late. 3am ticked away to 4am, and 4:30am. The discarded paper stacked higher than Jack and Maddie both. Calluses oozed from their hands at another attempt, and another, and another.

Maddie flipped through a folder’s worth of yellowed papers, aggressively thumbed over and over after two decades left untouched. And she settled on the one she’d passed over a few dozen times already, always seeking something else, something better.

This time she unsheathed it, and she placed it on the lab table.

“…If a mouse died. In the machine. If a mouse ran through the machine and accidentally bridged two live wires, and died of violent electrocution. 500 milliamps. Instantly melted into the circuitry.”

Maddie’s mouth was cotton-dry while she wrote. Ambient ecto-energy was low. Always very, very low.

Unless something very, very bad happened to something with the capacity to become a ghost.

The numbers wove. Maddie started the formula fresh, and it was pure muscle memory. A mouse. A big mouse, even. A 99th percentile beast of a mouse. And a wire that had been wired incorrectly. Something grounded that never actually grounded. An absolutely horrific amount of electricity.

0.37%, by pure numbers. If she included every permissive crackpot idea they had thrown on top, it topped out at 6% of the needed activation threshold.

Not a mouse.

“A cat,” Jack said, words gummy, tongue dry, face tired. “If we’ve got mice down here, maybe… a stray cat wandered in. Chased the mouse.”

Maddie nodded. It didn’t matter if it made sense.

She penned it in. A large cat. A devastating electrical short. Cats carried more ecto-potential than mice did. Ecto-potential did not necessarily go up with size. It went up with complexity. The things with the most ecto-potential were the things that most became ghosts.

1.45%, by pure numbers. 18% at absolute, absolute crackpot best.

“A dog,” Jack proposed with a shaky laugh. He swallowed. “A mouse… chased by a cat… chased by a dog… all electrocuted at once”

Maddie didn’t say the thing they both knew, which was that both of them would have noticed the evidence left behind by the electrically exploded pieces of a dog.

Maddie did it anyway. A mouse and a cat and a medium-sized dog, maybe just small enough to notice no evidence of, all together. All at once. All violently ripped apart, sacrificed to a machine still asleep in its wall.

Mice did not often make ghosts. Cats did not either. Dogs, occasionally. But infrequently. Very infrequently.

37%. At best.

“Jack.”

“Maddie, I know just—maybe something really smart—”

“—Jack—”

“—like an octopus—”

“Jack.”

“I hear, maybe, pigs are smart. If it was—”

Maddie was writing, already. Not for a pig. Not an octopus. Jack watched, and he knew what the numbers meant. The ecto-potential she penned gave her away. An ecto-potential that high.

65kg, an estimate

10,000 milliamps, a catastrophic accident, a death certificate.

A human’s amount of ecto-potential.

Maddie wrote.

And she wrote.

And she did not apply a single crackpot theory, not a single discredited proposal, not an ounce of exaggeration.

138%.

Threshold, and then some.

Comfortable, easily, then some.

For the first time, after all the hundreds of times she and Jack had penned this equation over the course of 2 decades, the number met her and Jack’s threshold.

A breakthrough.

A revelation.

A pure eureka moment.

Jack and Maddie were silent.

Alone in a humming basement. Alone with only the soft swirls of the portal for company, happy, stable, purring its contentment, singing to the cold air.

“It has to be something else,” Maddie said. And she said it weakly. And she said it childishly.

“You’re right. It can’t be this,” Jack echoed. “If someone died down here, we’d know. Dead bodies don’t walk away. We’d have seen it. O-or even if, if the body got stuck in the portal, we’d have heard of someone going missing.”

Maddie sat, quiet. A thought held her mind hostage.

“Unless they didn’t go missing,” Maddie said, and she said it barely audibly. “Unless the portal spit them right back out.”

“Then—that’s what I said—a dead body, on the floor, we’d have seen.”

“Not a dead body.”

“It had to be lethal, Mads—”

“I know Jack. But if they died, here, in the portal Jack, then their ghost did not get ripped away from the body and sent to the Ghost Zone. …They ripped the Ghost Zone here.” Palms slick with sweat smoothed over her notes. She pointed to one specific line and found her pen tip trembled no matter how badly she stabilized it. “The ecto-potential of a creature is how strong of a pull their ghost creates on the Ghost Zone. A strong enough pull means the ghost can reach the Ghost Zone and stabilize, like a fish reeling itself up, yeah? We agree on this Jack, yes?”

“Yes,” Jack answered.

“It’s what makes the math even work, Jack. Someone dying in the portal didn’t reel themselves to the boat. They reeled the boat in. Jack, they brought the Ghost Zone here…” Maddie wasn’t breathing right. She pulled sweat-soaked bangs away from her face. “Their ghost never left their body Jack. They died, Jack. And they walked back out.”

“…No. No,” Jack said. “No, they didn’t.”

“Then what?” Maddie asked.

Jack stared. He looked away. He didn’t like the expression on Maddie’s face.

“It—what about the ecto-ether theory?” Jack said, of the theory they’d tested and retested and tested all over, all night. He grabbed his pencil back up and pointed it aimlessly at Maddie’s piece of paper, pointed end out in self-defense. “If the ecto-ether is maybe… if it’s only 250-times stronger than we calculated. Then it could…”

Jack’s voice died. His pencil hung idle. Maddie’s paper remained unblemished.

“If it… was a pig,” Jack offered. “If it was a pig that died in the portal.”

“How, Jack? How would a pig get in? We lock all the doors at night, Jack. No one else can get in, Jack. It’s just us, Jack.”

Jack and Maddie were not there when the portal turned on.

Maddie’s statement carried two possibilities. Only two. Both felt like claws digging all the flesh right out of Jack’s heart.

“I want… I want to try the ecto-ether theory again,” Jack choked. “I think it’s the ecto-ether. I think it’ll work.”

Jack slid a piece of paper over, already covered in scribbles. In its single untouched corner, he started the equation for the several-thousandth time that night.

Above their head, birds were singing.

Sunrise hailed unseen from the windowless laboratory.

…

At 6am, Vlad answered his cell phone. The reception crackled, struggling through the layers of sheetrock above his head.

“Vlad?” Maddie’s voice crackled. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Not at all my dear.” Vlad leaned his weight against the wall, playing with the singsong melody in his voice. “But you sound exhausted. Is anything the matter?”

“Yes. Well… Yes. Jack and I have—all night—trying to fix the equation.”

“Naturally.”

“We found something that maybe works.”

“Oh?” Vlad asked. He straightened, pacing now, cracklingly attentive. “And what might that—”

“If someone died. Activating the portal. We have an on-switch inside the portal’s interior. The trigger we use to press it is external to the portal, of course. But if someone went inside the portal, and they pressed it directly, and if they died, and pulled the Ghost Zone here—”

Vlad’s red eyes reflected pools of iridescent green. He twirled his free hand in the fringes of his cape, tongue working over the fanged edges of his teeth. He stared, consumed, forward.

“—and just, you, I was thinking, you’re the only other expert I’d trust to… maybe weigh in.”

“What does Jack think?”

“He denies it. He’s still. He’s trying other theories.”

“Well who knows, surely? The answer may lie somewhere you haven’t looked.”

“…I’ve looked everywhere, Vlad. That's the thing. There is no more ‘somewhere else’. I’ve looked.”

“You sound like your mind is made up.”

“I just… if maybe you have some idea.”

“Am I meant to talk you out of this idea?”

“Vlad.”

“Do you think I have some secret information you don’t? Sorry to say, I’m just your skeptic.” Some noise came through muffled from the other side. Vlad flashed a smile. “But…as your skeptic I will offer you this—It all sounds a bit absurd, doesn’t it? To kill someone and have them come back intact and… for you to never notice? Who would they be? How would they be? Surely not human anymore, surely. How would you never notice?”

Vlad paced forward, booted feet clicking along his laboratory floor.

“It would be ridiculous,” he continued, with a building crescendo, “so unfathomably self-centered surely, to not notice something like that befall someone so close to you, who died at the hands of your own invention? …If I’m correctly inferring who, in your household, you suspect of having activated the portal?” Vlad’s tongue lingered along his teeth.

Maddie’s line held, quiet. And the seconds of static drew long.

“Ah, apologies. I’ve overstepped,” Vlad continued. “I meant this as a vote of confidence in you. You and Jack both. Two people as attentive, caring, compassionate as yourselves. You would notice. I promise.”

“You’re… Okay, thank you, Vlad. I appreciate it.”

“Is there anything else, my dear?”

“No. No. Thank you, Vlad. I’ll think about this.”

Maddie’s line clicked dead. A chuckle built to Vlad’s lips and he let his head tip back with mirth. It lasted only a moment. He stowed his phone. And as if the interruption had never happened, Vlad reaffixed his attention on his own portal swirling in front of him. It bathed him, swimming green, purring contentment.

And Vlad vanished into his portal.

(Chapter 2)

[elssero]

project partner

k.bakugo

-in which you and bakugo get paired to work on a school project together ,sfw. angst!!!!! tw no happy endings ..

maybe you should’ve been paying more attention but your hero analytics class was so boring you genuinely couldn’t stop yourself from getting distracted.

it’s not like the view outside the window is any more interesting- at this point your just looking at anything in an attempt to drown out your teachers voice.

you catch a pair of birds on a tree outside- watching as they shuffle around each other awkwardly. god you wish you were one of those birds right now. you really hate this class.

“and yn, you’ll be partnered with uh- bakugo.”

wait what?

oh you’ve got to be kidding me.

you don’t even know what you’ve been partnered to work with him on? some sort of fake hero interview? god could your day get any worse.

you did not like bakugo. not one bit.

you didn’t like his ‘better than everyone’ attitude. you didn’t like the constant stupid scowl on his face. but most of all you didn’t like the way he spoke to your friends.

at the beginning of the year you’d made a conscious effort to befriend most of your classmates. never shying away from a conversation and offering your assistance whenever needed.

you knew what it was like to be strong, you’d always been a step ahead, seemingly excelling in everything you did. you guessed you had that in common with him.

however, what you didn’t have in common with him was his treatment of your classmates. you had never once wanted anyone too feel inferior to you, even if they were.

sure you were teasing- often joking around with many of your classmates but it was all in good faith. nothing like the actual insults bakugo often hurled at them.

you didn’t like him. not at all.

staring at aizawa with wide eyes he only gives you a shrug. you have absolutely no idea why he thought it would be a good idea to pair you and bakugo together- you’d never even spoken a word to each other in this class.

after reading out the rest of the pairings he dismisses the class, encouraging you all too make plans with your partners about scheduling time to work on the project he’d just given you, explaining you had a week to hand in two fully fledged professional looking interviews, one of your partner and of yourself with the other playing the interviewer.

you weren’t worried about your performance at something like this, being friendly and talking to people had never been a problem for you- at least not until it came to the blonde who was now making his way towards you. his signature frown on his face.

he huffs as he attempts to make himself comfortable in the seat next to you, still somehow looking incredibly uncomfortable.

you glance around at the other pairs in the room. brewing with jealousy as you see everyone already getting along- seemingly paired with someone their known to be friends with.

the boy beside you attempts to speak before you cut him off-

“okay look- i don’t want to be here any longer than i need too and i’m sure you don’t either.” you would normally grimace at the harsh tone of your voice- except it’s bakugo, so instead you continue on.

“i’ll spend tonight watching recent hero interviews too see what types of questions are currently trending, i’ll put us both together a series of questions we can ask each other.”

it’s better you do all the work, it means he can’t surprise you with some stupidly rude question. you don’t have to get along with him. you just have to do the project- get a good grade and go back to ignoring him.

“send me a copy of your schedule so i can work out a time that suits us both to film the interviews- they shouldn’t take too long, most interviews only last a little under an hour now a days.”

you don’t look at him as you speak to him, instead opting to drawing little cats in the corner of your page as you explain your plan to him.

“oh um- okay.” he pauses slightly before continuing speaking. “yeah- um i’ll send you my schedule.”

that was oddly easy? of course your glad he didn’t fight you on this, but to say you weren’t expecting at least a little challenge would be a lie.

deciding not to dwell on his weird behaviour you take this as a win- you get to dictate your entire project which is obviously what you’d rather. when the bell rings to signify the end of the day your beyond thankful to it for getting you away from the increasingly awkward silence your having with bakugo at the moment. getting up you don’t even bid him goodbye as you meet up with your friends while leaving the class to make your way to the dorms.

it’s jirou and mina you meet at the doorway- immediately accepting their invitation to join them on their walk home.

the walk isn’t long- you listen as your friends catch you up on the work they’d done with their partners during class- expressing their excitement to work on something more media based.

“so uh- how’s having bakugo as a partner?” you roll your eyes at your pink friend. it’s no secret that your not a fan of bakugo. infact you go out of way to make it very clear to your friends your feelings about the boy.

“it’s weird. he’s totally letting me do all the work- of course i’m not complaining but i thought he’d try to argue with me with at least once.” explaining how he’d acted to your friends you feel just as confused as you did in class.

“wait- you mean he didn’t argue with you once? not even a single time?” confirming minas question you keep walking. it is weird. you don’t think bakugo has ever done a paired project without being utterly horrible to whatever pour soul had been paired up with him.

“i mean are we really surprised? i can’t think of a single time he’s ever actually insulted you.” you look at your purple haired friend as she talks. she’s right.

you don’t know why, but since the beginning of first year bakugo had never once said anything mean to you. not since you’d kept up with him on the quick assessment on your first day.

it’s weird. god it’s so weird and your grateful someone else has noticed it. he’s always so mean. never thinking twice before hurling abuse at the rest of your class while he seemingly never even thinks of throwing some at you.

you rather it that way. it gives you the perfect excuse to never have to speak to him.

“wait your right…” mina currently looks deep in thought before a sly smile erupts on her face. “maybe he’s got a crush!”

you can’t help the laugh that bubbles in your chest. bakugo?? a crush?? even the idea sounds crazy. not once in your three years of being at UA had you ever heard of bakugo even being remotely interested in anything like that with anyone.

“bakugo definitely does not have a crush on me- are we sure he even has a romantic bone in his body?” jirou beside you laughs at that, a small chuckle escaping her. “it’s not the craziest explanation- maybe he’s got a soft spot.” you shoot her a kidding glare.

“don’t be silly guys. i’m sure there’s an actual reason- maybe he just can’t think of anything bad to say about me.” your thankful when the girls next to you both burst into giggles- giving you and opening to change the subject.

the idea scratches the back of your head the whole walk. you can’t stop thinking about it as you make your way into your own dorm, showering and changing before beginning to work on your project- your thirty minutes into the most recent mirko interview when you decide you need a break.

dinner. that will definitely solve your problems. your just hungry.

making your way into the kitchen your hopes of getting your mind off bakugo are immediately shut down as you see his figure behind the open fridge door.

for fucks sake.

it’s too late to turn around now. sucking it up you made your way over to one of the cupboards before taking out some bread- you’ll just make a sandwich. something quick to get you the fuck out of this kitchen.

you nearly make it out- your so close.

“so uh- how’s the project going?” your being punished. your now completely certain someone out there has something out for you.

“um yeah it’s going fine- i have your questions all written out i’m just getting started on mine.” you forced to look at him quickly when you place the bread back into the cupboard. it’s clear he’s just back from a very intense work out. the sweat in his hair makes that evident. he looks good.

what the fuck? you turn away quickly before he notices your quick stare as you pack up your food ready to take into your room.

“you did my questions first?” there’s a slight surprise in his voice as he questions you.

“uh yeah it was easier. there’s a lot more male heros so it was easier to find interview questions compared to females.” it’s a logical explanation- you miss the way his expression drops slightly when he listens to your reasoning.

“is that all your having to eat?” this is weird. is he making fun of you? no that’s not it. there’s not a mean tone in his voice- instead it’s something like concern.

“i’m not really hungry. just wanted a quick snack-“

“you should eat more.”

you need to get out of this kitchen. why is he being so nice to you? okay maybe he’s right. a sandwich is definitely not a hero course student meal but your currently far to confused and far too tired too care.

“goodnight bakugo.”

you don’t wait for his reply as you quickly make your way to the door, desperate to get away from whatever the fuck is going on right now. you debate making your way to minas room to debrief what just happened but decide against it. she’ll probably attempt to try and convince you about her stupid crush theory again and there’s absolutely no way that’s true.

the after effect of your late night hits you like a truck in the morning, after groggily getting up and forcing yourself to get ready you rush to class- nearly missing the bell while you step in only a few seconds before your teacher.

you spend the entire period in complete silence- focusing mainly on keeping yourself awake long enough to get home and go straight to sleep. your keeping your face up with your hand while it threatened to fall when you receive a note from your left.

you okay? you look like your seconds away from biting your desk. -k.b.

why on earth did he sign his initials on this stupid note as if you didn’t just watch him place it on your desk. you decide to take a minute to calm yourself so you don’t end up writing him back a mess of profanities.

you don’t even reply at all, deciding instead to crumple the note up extremely loudly before placing it in your pocket. you miss the dejected look on his face but you do hear the scoff. that bitch.

you can’t wait for the end of this stupid project, hoping that by the end of it you and bakugo will be able to go back to how you were before. he can go back to terrorising the rest of the class while you go back to ignoring him.

it’s beyond weird that he’s starting to talk to you. you assume he feels obligated because he’s your partner but you’d rather he just ignored you outwith strickly work related conversations.

your packing up for class when he nexts approaches you- placing a piece of paper in your hand as he walks by your desk.

“it’s uh- it’s my schedule.” right. you did ask him for that didn’t you? did he put this together last night? it’s extremely detailed- compiling exactly what he does everyday seven days a week, even having slots for studying and meal times.

scanning it over quickly you realise the only free time you share is saturday afternoon- tomorrow.

that works. if you get your interviews completely done during the weekend it means that this weird situation you’ve found yourself in with bakugo will be over by monday- it’s perfect infact.

“i’m free tomorrow afternoon too- i’ll meet you in the common room at 1 and we can spend a couple hours on it. hopefully we can have it done before dinner.”

“yeah um- that’s fine i’ll meet you at 1.” okay great. you take note of the fact this is the second plan you’ve made without bakugo arguing with you.

you leave the class in speed after that- wishing your friends a goodbye as you let them know you won’t be walking with them today, wishing to run straight to bed as your far too tired to spend time with them right now.

it’s hours later when you finally wake up- 7pm your clock reads. you’d really hoped that you would just have been able to sleep though the whole night- it seems the universe has other plans for you as you hear your stomach grumble. great.

your making your way down to the common room when you hear a mixture of voices from behind the wall.

“yeah it’s great- but bakugos the luckiest for sure. he’s working with yn on this and she always does well on this shit. maybe it’ll bring your hero media grade up.” it’s kaminari you hear first. your ears perk up when you listen to a mention of your name.

“yeah bakugo how is it? it’s gotta be great working with her. i’m totally jealous.” you manoeuvre quickly to hide yourself fully behind the wall now. they’ve not realised your here yet. you intend to listen fully to what they have to say about you.

“it’s alright- i guess.” you wish you could say you were surprised but alright? if he calls doing all the work for alright then you’ll never do anything for him ever again.

“come on bakugo there’s got to be more to it than that? you finally get her to talk to you yet-?” huh? what does he mean by that? finally getting you to talk to him?

“shut up shitty hair- it’s- no i haven’t!” he’s getting increasingly more frustrated as he continues.

“every time i attempt to make conversation she shuts me out completely. i- i don’t even know what im doing wrong.” his voice sounds rejected as he finishes his sentence. he’s been.. trying to talk to you?

why? it’s the first thing that crosses your mind. why after years of being in the same class- years of mutually ignoring each other why would he now make the decision he’s interested in talking to you?

you can’t listen to any more of this. forgetting all about your hunger you hastily make your way back to your dorm- attempting not to draw notice to yourself.

somehow finding yourself more tired than you were when you first made your way downstairs you flop yourself onto your bed with a confused sigh.

you just don’t get it. trying to wrack your brain for reasons why bakugo would all of a sudden decide he’s interested in you- you fail to find a logical reason.

maybe you should just sleep it off- after your interviews are done tomorrow you won’t have to speak to him ever again if your luckily. you can spend your days avoiding him during classes and in the corridors. it shouldn’t be that hard.

his friends words repeat in your mind. finally get you to talk to him? had he been interested in you for awhile? and for what?

maybe he had been looking for something to make fun of you for- it’s the only explanation you can come up with.

forging yourself to stop dreading over it you take that as your answer. bakugo katsuki is attempting to get close to you so he can find something to poke fun at you for.

you know in your mind that’s not it. even in your tired state you realise that the excuse your giving yourself isn’t the truth. however your far to exhausted- and apparently still hungry to let yourself stress over it any longer as you fall back into sleep.

your alarm wakes you up at a sharp 10am. it’s your emergency alarm for when you accidentally sleep in. fuck.

you have three hours before your supposed to meet bakugo and your already riddled with anxiety over it. waking up late forces you to miss your work out for the third day in a row- maybe you’ll be able to get one in later tonight.

opting to just start getting ready your able to take your time- an outfit choice isn’t needed, you’ll need to wear your hero costume if your doing “hero work.”

it’s 12 when you begin to start thinking about getting something to eat- your ready to leave now, your aswell heading down to the kitchen early.

your heading to your door when you get a knock, opening it expecting it to be one of your friends your shocked when you see- bakugo?

in his hand is a brown bag- the little logo of a local bakery is crumpled but you can still make it out, in the other is a coffee of some sort.

“you didn’t eat last night. picked you up something after my run.” of course he’d went on an early morning run- your almost jealous of his work ethic.

he got you breakfast? it smells good. you can’t remember the last time you went to that little bakery, you’d forgotten how much you missed it.

“how’d you know how i take my coffee?” his eyes shift to the floor at your question- nervousness clearly evident in his voice.

“i uh- i asked raccoon eyes. she said that’s always what you get.” of course he went to mina- it’s not wonder she keeps making crazy assumptions about the two of you.

you offer his a small smile when you answer him- maybe the first you’ve ever given him. “thank you bakugo.”

his eyes go wide at that- “um yeah it’s no big deal- i was getting something anyway.” did he eat it already? your foods still warm- it feels as though he ran straight here after getting it.

“you ready to go?” your snapped out of your trance when you tell him yes- picking up your bag you make your way to the training room that had been set up specifically for this project.

it looks like a real interview set- in the middle of the room is a long table with two chairs- both situated with microphones with a camera catching them both in shot.

you begin to set up straight away- bakugo insists on working on your interview first as a thanks for doing the rest of the work and you take him up on the offer, settling yourself into the seat of the interviewee as he situates himself beside you.

he looks slightly different from how he normally does- less angry, you think. he’s really gotten himself into character- dressing himself a smart-ish shirt, he’s put on his reading glasses, he looks kinda cute.

the lighting of the set is definitely doing wonders for him- you just hope it’s doing you the same justice. he coughs slightly next to you- seemingly to get your attention.

“you ready to go?” he’s looking at you patiently- urging you to take your time.

“i’m good to go- just try stay on script yeah?” your joking with him- similarly to how you would your other classmates. maybe this project isn’t so bad.

he does infact follow the script perfectly in the beginning- opening up your interview- introducing you to the “audience” as he begins the questions.

it’s the usual stuff- questions you’d answered a million times. who inspires you? why did you decide to be a hero? what type of hero do you wish to be? blah blah blah.

“if we asked your friends to describe what it’s like to be your friend- how would they describe it?” you love questions like these- you feel it gives fans a real feel for not only you as a hero- but you as a person.

“i’m hilarious- obviously. but if we’re being completely serious i’d probably describe myself as helpful? i always find joy in being able to help my friends with things their struggling with- it helps i get too tease them about it too.” you flash the “interviewer” a smile to only be met with a deadpan expression.

did you say something wrong? you thought that was a perfect answer- it paints you as a kind but funny person. what’s his problem?

“why do you do that?” his interviewer tone is gone now- seemingly given up on his part.

“do what?” your voice is laced in confusion but in reality your angry. it had been going so well up until now- no arguments, no insults- just getting the project done and now your going to have to start the whole interview all over again.

“your nothing like that- at least not to me.” he’s grumbling as he says it- looking directly at you with that same frustrated expression.

“what are you talking about.” your firm when you say it- edging him to just get to the point of whatever tangent he’s about to go on so you can get back to work.

“you-? it’s just you! your fuckin’ friends with everyone- it pisses me off.” your mouth is slightly agape- what does who your friends with have anything to do with him? you don’t reply.

“it’s just- everyone fuckin’ loves you- apparently your so fuckin’ great to everyone but i can never get that out of you-“ anger is rising in his voice as he continues- getting more and more frustrated as he keep struggling to explain how he feels.

“your always such a fuckin’ bitch to me- always ignoring me- never giving me the time of day and everything thinks m’ fuckin’ crazy because your just soo good.” your anger is suddenly matching his- your such a bitch to him?? does he have any idea about the way he treats people?

“oh that’s fucking rich coming from you- your maybe the biggest asshole i’ve ever met. no wonder i don’t wanna speak to you.” your furious- who does he think he is?? that he thinks he can dictate how you act towards people.

“what?” the tone is his voice is changed now- the anger that was there a second ago seems to have vanished- now replaced with sadness.

“and you ignore me too!- don’t act like our lack of communication is all my fault.” now it’s his turn to be in shock- he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you act like this before.

“your right bakugo- i am a bitch. i’m a bitch to you because i can’t stand you. i don’t like you, not one bit. your a horrible classmate- i can only imagine an even more horrible person just going by the way i hear you speak to people.”

you take a deep breath before you continue- finally allowing yourself to actually look at him- your vision a little blurry from anger, but you can see it clear as day- the complete expression of hurt written all over his face.

you wish you cared- you wished you maybe felt a little empathy for the boy but you don’t- you can’t. you’ve listened to the way he’s treated people for years and now that you’ve started you can’t stop.

“you don’t do it to me- i don’t know why and quite frankly i don’t care. but i hear it, i’ve heard it for years and i wont shy away from it anymore- i believe you to be a bad person bakugo, you’ll make a great hero- maybe. but that won’t change the fact i truly believe you to be a bad person.”

he still doesn’t say anything- the hurt in his face somehow even more evident as the tears threaten to spill from his eyes.

“right.”

he gets up without saying anymore more- grabbing his coat as he makes a b-line for the door- leaving you alone in this stupid interview set.

he’s such an idiot- and too think he really had a chance- of course you would see him for as he was.

he loved you- he had for years.

and you completely hated him.

[sherewrytes]

WHAT THESE BITCHES WANT FROM A NIGGA

Cause i missed writting for Ony outside of Love and Gunshots

here is a lil fic inspired by me listening to way to much DMX songs

this def gonna have a part two

The studio was alive with energy. The faint hum of a beat looped through the speakers, low enough to talk over but loud enough to keep the vibe right. Smoke curled through the air, the scent of something strong lingering as laughter bounced between the walls.

Eren sat at the mixing board, lazily twisting a knob as he leaned back in his chair, watching the session unfold. Armin stood nearby, scrolling through his phone, probably looking at projections or some business report none of them cared to hear about right now.

Connie was perched on the couch, a blunt tucked behind his ear, grinning as he scrolled through his notifications. He tapped his screen, shaking his head. "Man, they got Twitter goin' crazy right now. They swear me and Ony got a track droppin’."

Onyankopon sat in the corner, quiet but listening, one hand draped over his knee while the other nursed a bottle of water. He wasn’t much for social media, but he already knew what they were saying. His name stayed in people’s mouths—sometimes for music, sometimes for… other things.

“Let ’em talk,” Ony muttered. “Ain’t nobody confirm nothin’.”

Connie smirked. “Yeah, but you know how this industry work. Rumors turn into facts real quick.”

Eren chuckled. “Ain’t that the truth.” He nudged Armin. “Yo, business man, how we capitalizing off this?”

Armin didn’t look up from his phone. “By actually finishing the song, maybe?”

That got a laugh out of everyone except Ony, who only shook his head.

Then Mikasa spoke up, cutting through the noise like she always did. “Speaking of rumors,” she said, arms crossed, “you got an interview tomorrow, Ony.”

Ony’s face stayed unreadable, but his response was instant. “Nah, I ain’t doin’ all that.”

Mikasa barely blinked. “It’s already booked.”

“So? Cancel it.”

“Not happening.”

Ony exhaled through his nose, irritation creeping into his voice. “What for? I already know what they gon’ ask me. Same bullshit—‘What’s the album about?’ ‘What’s your process?’ ‘How many women you really got on rotation?’” He shook his head. “Tired of that shit.”

Mikasa stared him down, unmoved. “Then maybe you should be more careful about what you let people say about you.”

A sharp silence filled the room. Even Eren glanced up at that.

Ony ran a hand over his face, about to argue again, when Mikasa tilted her head and added—

“It’s with Y/N L/N.”

Everything stopped for a beat.

Ony didn’t say anything at first, but the slight hesitation—the way his fingers curled just a little tighter around his water bottle—didn’t go unnoticed.

Connie definitely noticed.

His eyes flicked to Ony, then back to Mikasa, and a slow grin stretched across his face. “Ohhh.” He dragged the word out, leaning forward with too much interest. “Now that’s interesting.”

Eren smirked. “Damn, bro. That name mean somethin’ to you?”

Ony scoffed, shaking his head. “Nah. Ain’t even like that.”

But the way he avoided looking at anybody said otherwise.

Mikasa, as usual, wasn’t here for the games. “Good,” she said flatly. “Then you won’t have a problem showing up.”

Ony didn’t respond right away. He just leaned back, tapping his fingers against his knee, thoughts running deeper than he let on.

Connie, watching him closely, only grinned wider. “Yeah… this gon’ be real interesting.”

The room settled back into a familiar rhythm, but there was a shift now—something hanging in the air that hadn’t been there before.

Ony leaned back, his jaw tight, tapping a slow rhythm against his knee while Connie watched him like he had the biggest secret in the world.

Eren, never one to let a moment slip by, chuckled as he twisted a few knobs on the soundboard. “Damn, I ain’t never seen you this quiet before, bro.”

Ony shot him a look. “Man, shut up.”

That only made Connie laugh harder. “Nah, ‘cause now I’m real curious. You of all people ain’t tryna do an interview? And with her?” He whistled low, shaking his head. “Secrets must be somethin’ serious.”

Ony exhaled sharply but didn’t take the bait. Instead, he stood up, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking something off. “Man, let’s just work.”

Eren smirked, already cuing up the beat. “Yeah, yeah. Time to put in work, big dog.”

The opening bassline hit, vibrating through the speakers, heavy and raw. The track was built for Ony—gritty, aggressive, something that hit you straight in the chest. And then Connie’s smooth, melodic touch came in, making the whole thing feel effortless.

Ony grabbed the headphones off the stand and adjusted the mic. He didn’t need the lyrics in front of him—he’d already been running the bars through his head all day.

Eren gave a nod from behind the glass. “Aight, run it from the top.”

The track kicked in fully, the instrumental pulsing. Connie stepped up first, his voice sliding in smooth:

🎶 "Uh… yeah." 🎶

He grinned, letting the words stretch out as he found the groove.

🎶 "What these women want from a nigga? Everybody askin’…" 🎶

Eren bobbed his head, already feeling it. Armin leaned back, watching with his usual calculating gaze, while Mikasa stayed posted by the door, arms crossed, as if mentally balancing business with personal bullshit.

Then Ony came in.

🎶 "What these women want from a nigga? Shit, I been tryna figure that out myself." 🎶

His voice was low, raspy—commanding. He wasn’t just rapping, he was telling a story.

🎶 "What these women want from a nigga? They love the name, but they don’t know the life." 🎶

The way he delivered it was cold, almost detached—like a man laying out facts, no sugarcoating. Connie picked up his cue, adding another layer to the track, his voice dripping with the kind of confidence that made women weak.

🎶 "Break ‘em off somethin’… Oh yeah, and by the way, it’s the N-Tity!" 🎶

Connie hit that perfect balance of cocky and smooth, grinning as he leaned back from the mic.

Eren let the beat ride for a second before cutting the track. The room sat in silence for a beat before Armin finally spoke.

“Yeah,” he nodded, impressed. “That’s gonna be a problem.”

Connie snickered. “You mean a hit?”

“Same thing.”

Ony pulled the headphones off, setting them back on the stand. The energy was right, the track was solid—but his mind was already somewhere else.

And Connie knew it.

He waited a moment before casually saying, “You know, I bet Y/N gon’ have a lot of questions about this one.”

Ony stilled for half a second. Then he shook his head, grabbing his water bottle. “Man, shut the hell up.”

Connie just grinned, stretching back on the couch. “Nah, I’m just sayin’… interviews get real personal sometimes.”

Eren chuckled under his breath. Armin smirked. Even Mikasa looked like she was holding back a comment.

Ony exhaled, rubbing his jaw. This interview was already getting on his nerves—and it hadn’t even happened yet.

Ony cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking something off. “Run it back.”

Eren didn’t even question it. He just reset the track, the bass creeping in again, that same grimy, no-nonsense energy filling the room.

Ony stepped up to the mic, gripping it like he had something to prove—not to them, but to himself.

🎶 "Come on, ma, you know I got a wife, And even though that pussy tight, I'm not gon' jeopardize my life—AIGHT?" 🎶

His voice hit harder this time, more raw, like he was talking directly to somebody.

🎶 "So what is it you want from a nigga?" 🎶

Connie, still chilling on the couch, let out a low “What?” in the background, matching Ony’s tone.

🎶 "I gave you; you gave me—" 🎶

Then Ony snapped, voice sharper—

🎶 "BITCH!" 🎶

Eren raised an eyebrow but said nothing, nodding along.

🎶 "I blazed you, you blazed me—COME ON!" 🎶

Connie grinned, chiming in smooth, “Yeah, yeah…”

Ony’s delivery was cold, every bar landing like a warning.

🎶 "Nothin’ more, nothin’ less, But you at my door willing to confess—" 🎶

Connie, right on cue: “Yeah, yeah…”

🎶 "That it’s the best you ever tested—" 🎶

🎶 "Aight!"—Connie crooned, voice buttery smooth.

Ony smirked a little, but his tone stayed ruthless.

🎶 "Better than all the rest, I'm like, 'Aight, girlfriend, hold up—'"

Connie jumped in again, sliding in that signature R&B swag—

🎶 "Tell me…"

And Ony closed it out, dropping the last line like a hammer—

🎶 "I gave you what you gave me, boo—a NUT!" 🎶

Eren cut the beat again, sitting back with a low whistle. “Sheesh.”

Armin smirked, clearly amused. “Well… that was direct.”

Connie laughed, throwing his arm over the back of the couch. “Nah, that shit was real.” He turned to Ony, smirking. “Yo, you think Y/N gon’ bring this up in the interview?”

Ony exhaled, rubbing his jaw. “Man, shut the hell up.”

That only made Connie laugh harder. “What? You know she gon’ ask you what these women really want.”

Eren smirked. “Hope you got a good answer ready.”

Ony didn’t respond, just grabbed his water bottle and took a slow sip, trying to act unbothered.

But everybody in the room knew better.

Mikasa, arms still crossed, gave Ony and Connie a sharp nod. “Run the chorus and the next verse for me.”

She wasn’t asking.

Eren smirked, pressing a button on the board. “Aight, y’all heard the boss lady.”

Connie rolled his shoulders, stepping back up to the mic. Ony exhaled through his nose, adjusting his stance.

The track restarted.

This time, the energy was locked in.

🎶 "What these bitches want from a nigga?" 🎶

Ony’s voice was rough, carrying that weight, that grit.

🎶 "What you want? (What you want?) What these bitches want from a nigga?" 🎶

Connie’s voice slipped in smooth, bouncing off Ony’s rawness, giving the chorus its perfect contrast.

🎶 "Really want… What these bitches want from a nigga? Shawty, I keep you up on it, Bling-blingin', all that jewelry, girl, I bought it—" 🎶

His voice dipped into a slick melody, smooth enough to make anybody believe every word.

🎶 "What these bitches want from a nigga? Ayo, tell me what you want from me… Baby, tell me what you want from me (so what you want?)” 🎶

The chorus hit hard, the beat knocking heavy behind their voices.

And just like that—Ony slid into his verse, zero hesitation.

🎶 "There was Brenda, Latisha (uh), Linda, Felicia (okay), Dawn, LeShaun, Ines, and Alicia (ooh)—" 🎶

Armin let out a low whistle under his breath.

🎶 "Teresa, Monica, Sharon, Nicki (uh-huh), Lisa, Veronica, Karen, Vicky —" 🎶

Connie couldn’t help but react. “Damn.”

🎶 "Cookie, well, I met her in a ice cream parlor (right), Tonya, Diane, Lori, and Carla (okay)—" 🎶

Mikasa’s expression stayed unreadable, but Eren was grinning behind the glass.

🎶 "Marina (uh), Selena (uh), Katrina (uh), Sabrina (uh), About three Kims (what?), LaToya and Tina—" 🎶

Connie leaned in, adding his smooth “Woo~” to the track.

🎶 "Shelley, Bridget, Cathy, Rasheeda (uh-huh), Kelly, Nicole, Angel, Juanita—" 🎶

🎶 “Damn.”—Connie again, his voice dripping with amusement.

🎶 "Stacy, Tracie, Rohna, and Ronda (what?), Donna, Yolanda (what?), Tawana, and Wanda (what?)—" 🎶

Ony’s voice was relentless, pushing each name out with weight, like a roll call of his past.

🎶 "Were all treated fairly, but yet and still, Bitches is on some other shit now that I'm fuckin' with Dru Hill—" 🎶

🎶 "But I'ma keep it real (what?), What the fuck you want from a nigga? What the fuck you want from a nigga? (Yeah!)" 🎶

Silence.

Then—

Armin smirked, shaking his head. “This is definitely gonna stir up some shit.”

Connie let out a loud laugh, clapping his hands together. “Oh yeah, bro.”

Eren leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Matter fact, This shit gonna be a hit.”

Ony stayed quiet for a second, his jaw clenching just slightly.

Then, with all the calm in the world, he grabbed his water bottle, twisted the cap, and took a slow sip.

“Man,” he muttered, voice low, “y’all talk too much.”

The beat faded out.

Eren leaned back, nodding to himself. “That’s a wrap.”

Ony pulled the headphones off, tossing them onto the stand. “We done?”

Mikasa, arms crossed, nodded. “For now.” She glanced down at her phone. “I pushed back the interview until the song drops.”

Ony gave her a look. “For what?”

“So you actually have something to promote.”

Ony scoffed, shaking his head. “Man, I ain’t polishing shit. It stays as is.”

Armin, still lounging in the chair by the console, shrugged. “It’s fine.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. She already knew how this went. Ony was stubborn, but so was she—so if anything needed tweaking, he’d come around eventually.

For now, the session was over.

Everybody started to relax, stretching out after being locked in the booth for hours. Connie, already making himself comfortable, sprawled out on the couch, phone in hand. “Yo, I ordered food. Should be here in like twenty.”

“Bet,” Eren muttered, lighting a blunt.

Armin was already on his laptop, typing away, probably lining up the rollout for the track. Mikasa was texting, handling business as usual.

Ony sat back in his chair, exhaling.

That should’ve been the end of it.

But then—he noticed how Connie was smirking at his phone, thumbs moving fast.

“Who you texting?” Ony asked, side-eyeing him.

Connie didn’t even look up. “Nobody.”

Ony lifted his chin. “Lyin’ ass.”

Eren chuckled, passing him the blunt. “If he grinnin’ like that, it’s either money… or a woman.”

Ony took a slow pull, watching Connie. “Yeah. So which one is it?”

Connie finally looked up, mischief all over his face. Then, with zero hesitation—

“Y/N.”

Ony exhaled, smoke curling past his lips. His grip on the blunt tightened just a little.

Connie grinned. “She asked how the session went.”

Ony didn’t say a word at first. Just took another slow drag, the blunt burning between his fingers.

But Connie? Connie was watching him real close.

Then, just like that—

He burst out laughing.

“Ayo—” Connie wiped a fake tear from his eye. “Ain’t no way you just made that face.”

Ony side-eyed him. “Man, shut the fuck up.”

“Nah, nah, nah—” Connie was still grinning, way too amused. “You was lookin’ real sick for a second there.”

Eren smirked but kept quiet. Armin glanced up from his laptop, peeping the shift in energy. Even Mikasa glanced up from her phone, side-eyeing them.

But Connie? He was still on Ony’s head.

“Ain’t my fault you let the game pull you from the chick you loved.”

Silence.

Ony exhaled through his nose, tapping the blunt against the tray, knocking the ash loose. Then, low as hell—barely above a mumble—

“Love.”

Connie’s smirk faltered for a split second.

Ony took another pull, jaw tight.

That was all he said.

But Connie caught it.

And for once, he didn’t joke.

Instead, he just went back to his phone, replying to Y/N.

Text Conversation: Connie & Y/N 📱 Y/N: Yo. How’d the session go?

📱 Connie: Shit was fire, as expected.

📱 Connie: Ya boy Ony was in his bag lmfao.

📱 Y/N: Oh? 👀

📱 Connie: Yeah, you gon’ have a LOT to ask about in that interview, trust.

📱 Y/N: Lmao don’t play w/ me.

📱 Y/N: That bad??

📱 Connie: Let’s just say… a WHOLE lotta names got mentioned tonight.

📱 Y/N: Names?

📱 Y/N: …Wait. Like, WOMEN’S names?

📱 Connie: 👀

📱 Connie: I mean, yeah. A whole roll call.

📱 Y/N: …Lemme find out Ony still on that type of time.

📱 Connie: Lmaooo. Ayo, you sound a lil mad. You good?

📱 Y/N: Boy, bye. 🙄

📱 Connie: Nah nah nah, that was hella quick. You sure you ain’t a lil heated?

📱 Y/N: AINT NOBODY WORRIED ABOUT THAT MAN.

📱 Connie: Mhm. Keep tellin’ yourself that.

📱 Y/N: I hope his player ass got media trained bc I’m asking everything.

📱 Connie: Oh, I KNOW. 😭

📱 Connie: Matter fact…

📱 Connie: I lowkey wish I could see his face when you do.

📱 Y/N: Lmao, be serious.

📱 Connie: I am serious. This man paused for a whole five seconds when Mikasa said your name.

📱 Y/N: Stop lying.

📱 Connie: I’d never lie to you, ma. 😇

📱 Y/N: Boy, you a whole menace.

📱 Connie: And yet, you still texting me. Interesting. 🤔

📱 Y/N: Bye.

📱 Connie: Lmaoooo.

YN POV

Y/N stared at her phone, Connie’s last message still sitting there.

I’d never lie to you, ma. 😇

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, debating if she even wanted to reply.

Five seconds? Ony paused for five whole seconds when he heard her name?

That was not normal.

And the fact that Connie clocked it immediately meant he knew it wasn’t normal either.

Y/N sucked her teeth, flopping back against her couch. She didn’t know why she was letting this get to her. She was over that whole situation. Ony was a memory, an old chapter she’d already closed.

…Right?

She sighed, running a hand down her face.

She should’ve known Connie was gonna be messy.

But then again…

Maybe this was karma.

After all, she was about to interview Ony about his player reputation.

And if anyone knew the truth behind that rep?

It was her.

Because she was there before the fame.

Before the rumors.

Before the women whose names he just rapped in the booth like they were nothing.

Flashback: Back When It Was Just “O” and Y/N

Years ago—before the money, before the music, before the world knew Ony’s name—he was just “O” to her.

And back then?

She swore she was the only girl that mattered to him.

They weren’t official—not really. They never put a title on it. But she was his, and he was hers, in the way that counted.

Or at least… that’s what she thought.

She still remembered the way he looked at her, like she was the only thing worth seeing. The way his voice softened when it was just the two of them. The way he held her like he was scared to let go.

But then…

He let go.

And she never really understood why.

One day, it was all good. The next? He was distant. Late replies. Excuses. Promises he didn’t keep.

Then the rumors started.

And when she finally asked him about it—when she looked him dead in his eyes and asked if the whispers were true—

All she got was a long pause.

And silence said everything.

That’s when she walked away.

And Ony?

He let her.

Back in the Present

Y/N blinked back into reality, jaw tight.

Yeah.

She had a lot of questions for Ony.

And come interview day?

He was gonna answer every single one.

Ony took another pull from his blunt, letting the smoke burn slow in his chest. The studio session was done, but his mind was still running. Not on the track. Not on the rollout.

On her.

Y/N.

Hearing her name after all this time? That was the last thing he expected.

And pausing for five seconds? Yeah, that was a slip-up.

Connie caught that shit fast, too.

That’s why he laughed like it was funny. Like it wasn’t real. Like Ony wasn’t still thinking about the last time he saw Y/N—the last time he let himself look at her.

Like he wasn’t the one who let her go.

He knew exactly what he lost. And if he was being honest?

He lost her on purpose.

Flashback: When Ony Walked Away

Y/N always knew how to get to him. Always knew how to make him feel like he could be more than what the world saw him as.

And for a minute, he let himself believe it.

That they could work. That he could have her and still chase this dream.

But the bigger he got, the more the streets started talking. And Ony had been in the game long enough to know one thing:

Loyalty doesn’t mean shit in this industry.

He wasn’t reckless, wasn’t running around like people said. But he knew how the whispers sounded. How they’d make Y/N look at him different, whether they were true or not.

And instead of waiting for her to see him like that—

He made the call first.

“Yo, I just think we need space,” he told her one night, his voice steady, even though his chest was tight as hell.

Y/N’s face twisted. “Space? Since when?”

He exhaled slow. “Since now.”

That should’ve been it.

But it was Y/N.

And she didn’t just let things go.

“Nah, don’t do that,” she said, stepping closer. “You think I don’t see through that bullshit? What’s really going on, O?”

He swallowed hard, jaw locking. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” she repeated, eyes searching his. “So you just—what? You just woke up and decided we’re done?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

Y/N scoffed, stepping back like she finally understood.

“Wow,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You’re really doing this.”

He didn’t say anything.

Because what the fuck was he supposed to say?

That he was scared? That he didn’t want her caught up in the mess his life was turning into? That he cared too much to let her stick around?

She deserved better than that.

Better than him.

So he let her go.

And Y/N?

She didn’t chase him.

She just left.

And now, years later, she was about to walk back into his life.

And for the first time in a long time—

Ony didn’t know if he was ready.

Y/N

Y/N stabbed her straw through her drink, her foot bouncing under the table. Across from her, Sasha was grinning like she just won a bet.

“You nervous?” Sasha asked, sipping her lemonade.

Y/N scoffed. “Nervous? For what?”

Sasha shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe ‘cause you’re about to see the man who broke your heart?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “He didn’t break my heart.”

Sasha lifted a brow. “So if I text Connie right now and ask what Ony’s reaction was when he heard your name, what you think he gon’ say?”

Y/N went silent.

Sasha smirked. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Y/N sighed, leaning back in her chair. “It’s not even like that.”

“Then what’s it like?”

“It’s… history,” Y/N muttered. “It’s old. And it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Sasha gave her a look. “Mhm. So that’s why you over here stirring your drink like it personally offended you?”

Y/N stopped moving.

Sasha laughed. “Babe. If you really didn’t care, you wouldn’t be acting like this.”

Y/N opened her mouth, then shut it again.

Because the truth?

Sasha was right.

She did care.

And that was exactly the problem.

The booth was hot, filled with the lingering scent of smoke and whatever cologne Ony had thrown on that morning. The speakers were thumping, bass rattling the walls as Armin adjusted levels on the mix.

It was supposed to be just another studio session. Another day in the life.

But Connie?

He had other plans.

Ony was posted up on the couch, blunt in one hand, phone in the other, scrolling like he wasn’t paying attention. Mikasa was flipping through notes, probably planning shit out for the next rollout.

Eren leaned back in his chair, dragging a hand down his face. “We tryna work or we just chillin’?”

Connie grinned, stretching his arms behind his head. “Damn, my bad, big boss. Didn’t know we was on the clock.”

Eren shot him a look. “ Bro please, we always on the clock.”

Connie waved him off, turning to Ony instead.

“So… you ever gon’ talk about it?”

Ony exhaled slow. “Talk about what?”

Connie’s grin widened. “You know what.”

Mikasa didn’t even look up. “Leave it alone, Connie.”

“Nah, I just think it’s funny.” Connie sat forward, eyes locked on Ony. “How you been out here, big dog—big Ony—but one name got you stuck?”

Ony’s grip on his phone tightened. “Ain’t nobody stuck.”

Connie chuckled. “Right. That why you got so quiet yesterday?”

Ony didn’t reply. Just took another slow drag, eyes locked on the table in front of him.

Connie leaned back with a smirk. “I mean, if it was me—”

“Good thing it ain’t,” Ony muttered.

Connie threw his hands up. “Damn, my bad! Didn’t know it was a sensitive subject.”

Eren shook his head. “You real messy, you know that?”

Connie just laughed. “Shit, somebody gotta keep it interesting.”

Mikasa sighed. “Can we work now?”

Ony didn’t say anything. Just exhaled smoke, let his head rest against the couch.

He wasn’t stuck.

He was just thinking.

And the more Connie ran his mouth?

The harder it was to stop.

Connie tapped his fingers against his knee, watching Ony with that same smug grin.

“So what you gon’ do when you see her?”

Ony exhaled, slow and steady. “Ain’t gon’ do shit.”

Connie raised a brow. “Oh, word?”

Ony didn’t even look up. “Word.”

Connie snorted. “Man, please. You ain’t even slick. The moment Mikasa said her name, you got real quiet.”

Ony finally glanced up, jaw tight. “You still talkin’?”

Connie shrugged. “I mean, it’s funny. Big Ony, unbothered Ony, the same nigga who don’t let nobody get in his head, but—”

Ony cut him off. “You bored, huh?”

Connie grinned. “A lil’ bit.”

Ony shook his head, smirking just a little. “Niggas get one R&B hit and start feelin’ real bold.”

That made Eren laugh. Even Armin cracked a smile.

But Connie?

He just leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“Aite, bet,” Connie said, still smirking. “If you don’t choke up when you see Y/N after the rollout for your interview next Thursday, I’ll drop it.”

Ony’s expression stayed neutral. “And if I do?”

Connie grinned wider. “Then I get to talk my shit forever.”

Ony sucked his teeth. “Nigga, you already do that.”

“Yeah, but this time, I’d be right.”

Ony shook his head. “Whatever, man.”

“Nah, say it,” Connie pushed. “We got a deal?”

Ony sighed, flicking ash off his blunt. Then he met Connie’s eyes, voice calm.

“Bet.”

The studio air was thick—weed smoke, bass vibrations, and unspoken shit that sat heavy between Ony and Connie. The bet had been made, and Ony wasn’t the type to back out, but the way Connie was watching him, all smug and knowing, made his blood heat just a little.

Eren twisted in his chair, adjusting the levels on the console. “Aight, we running this from the top?”

Ony pulled the mic stand closer, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah.”

Connie cracked his neck and stepped up beside him. “Try not to get too distracted, big dawg.”

Ony shot him a side glance. “Try not to do too much, R&B ass nigga.”

Connie laughed, stepping back as Eren cued up the beat. The heavy bass dropped, shaking the room, and just like that—they were locked in.

Ony didn’t hesitate when his cue hit, voice sliding into the rhythm, sharp and commanding.

"Come on, ma, you know I got a wife…"

His words hit with weight, the flow raw, guttural. Connie fed off that energy, bouncing on his heels before coming in smooth, vocals slipping through the beat like silk.

The two of them went back and forth, perfect synergy. Connie’s harmonies laced through Ony’s rough delivery like a blade wrapped in velvet. It was effortless—like they had done this in another lifetime.

By the time the chorus hit, Eren was nodding along, Armin tapped his fingers on his knee, and even Mikasa—who hardly reacted to shit—was watching with sharp eyes.

The track faded, and silence took over, but no one spoke at first.

Then Armin leaned forward, pushing his glasses up. “That’s the one.”

Eren smirked. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

Mikasa crossed her arms. “We’re polishing it.”

Ony exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Nah. It stays.”

Mikasa gave him a flat look. “It’s not up for discussion.”

Ony was about to argue, but Armin waved a hand. “It’s fine as is.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes but didn’t push further. She was outnumbered, and she knew it.

The session wrapped, but the energy still crackled in the air. Connie leaned back against the couch, scrolling through his phone like he had nothing to do with the chaos he had just started.

Ony side-eyed him, still catching his breath. “You real quiet now.”

Connie didn’t look up. “Just letting you breathe before I start talkin’ my shit.”

Eren laughed, shaking his head. “You don’t stop talkin’ shit.”

Connie grinned. “And y’all love me for it.”

Ony wasn’t amused. He leaned forward, forearms on his knees. “The bet still stands?”

Connie locked his phone and met Ony’s gaze. “Yeah. Next Thursday.”

Ony took a slow drag from his blunt, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. “Aight.”

Connie’s grin widened. “That means yes, you gon’ choke up.”

Ony turned his head slowly, eyes dark. “Nigga, I will slap the gel out your head.”

Connie cackled, throwing a pillow at Ony’s face. “Bet.”

Y/N’s POV: Late Night Thoughts

The glow of Y/N’s laptop screen cast shadows across her face, but she wasn’t really looking at it. The email sat open, the words blurring together, but her mind was miles away.

Across from her, Sasha was sprawled out on the couch, chewing on a bag of chips like she wasn’t causing Y/N a migraine.

Sasha side-eyed her. “You been staring at that email for way too long.”

Y/N sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “It’s just an interview.”

Sasha raised a brow. “It’s not just an interview.”

Y/N shut her laptop with a snap. “Sasha.”

“What?”

“Don’t start.”

Sasha grinned. “Start what? I didn’t say shit.”

“You’re thinking it.”

Sasha tossed a chip in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Aight, fine. Let’s say I was thinking something. What exactly do you think I was thinking?”

Y/N shot her a dry look.

Sasha snorted. “Oh my God, just say you’re nervous.”

Y/N huffed. “I’m not nervous.”

Sasha pointed at her with a chip. “Then why you actin’ like the deadline itself is Onyankopon?”

Y/N snatched the bag from her hands.

Sasha let out a dramatic gasp. “Damn. That serious?”

Y/N groaned, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t wanna do this right now.”

Sasha smirked. “Right, right. So when is a good time to unpack the fact that the love of your life—”

Y/N threw the bag back at her. “Don’t start that shit.”

Sasha laughed, catching it with ease. “Fine, fine. But you know I’m right.”

Y/N didn’t answer.

Because deep down, Sasha was right.

And that was the problem.

THE DROP DATE

Twitter/X – 10:47 AM

@REALHipHopTalk: 👀 Ony and Connie really snapped on this track. This some real music.

@bitchwholovesrnb: Connie’s vocals??? Ethereal. Ony slid on that beat like it owed him money.

@notyourbabymama: Y’all hear how Ony was talking on this track??? That nigga got history, LMAO. Somebody broke his soul.

@2Trill4U: Nah, the way they used the OG formula but flipped it into something fresh? This gon’ be in rotation all summer.

@ThirstTrapQueen: Me watching Ony growl his way through the verses like a dog in heat 😩🔥 Sir, I will bark back.

TikTok – 11:23 AM

@TrapScholar (stitching the official music video) 🎶 What these bitches want from a nigga? "—NIGGA, WHO HURT YOU?!"

@RnB4L Connie’s little ‘woo’ ad-lib lives in my head rent free.

@HoodPsychologist POV: You listening to Ony’s verse and realizing this nigga is venting.

(Caption: "Somebody call his therapist.")

@MessyMimi The way Ony said, “Bitch” 😭 That wasn’t in the script. That was personal.

Instagram – 12:02 PM

@TheIndustryPlug (Post: Cover art of the track) 🚨 Ony x Connie – What These Bitches Want (2025 Remix) is officially OUT NOW! 🚨

🔗 Stream it everywhere.

💬 Comments:

🔥 @_TheRealOny: Stay out my business. 🔥 @RNBConnie: 🤣🤣🤣🤣 🔥 @MikasaM: 🤦🏾‍♀️

The studio was way quieter than usual. No crazy bet, no heated back-and-forth—just a chill session with the whole crew vibing.

Ony was leaning back on the couch, blunt in hand, scrolling through his phone. He never cared what people thought of his music, but damn, the reaction had him smirking a little.

Connie, as usual, was living for the attention. He had his phone propped up, live on IG, cheesing while reading the comments. “Damn, y’all nosy as hell,” he laughed, shaking his head.

Eren snorted. “they clocked you mid-breath.”

Connie grinned. “That’s star power, baby.”

Mikasa was sitting near the console, arms crossed. “You two are trending.”

Armin, ever the businessman, was already flipping through analytics on his laptop. “Streams are crazy. We got one million in four hours.”

Ony exhaled smoke, barely reacting. “Cool.”

Connie turned toward him. “Bro, ‘cool’?” He pointed at Armin’s screen. “That’s money.”

Ony shrugged. “It’s what we do.”

Connie sucked his teeth. “You kill my vibe.”

“Not my problem.”

Before Connie could throw a pillow at his head, the studio door swung open.

Sasha walked in, hype as hell, phone in hand. “Y’all SEEING this shit?”

Mikasa sighed. “We’re aware.”

Sasha ignored her, hopping onto the couch beside Connie. “No, ‘cause the way people are picking apart Ony’s verse…” She wiggled her eyebrows, looking straight at Ony.

Ony, unfazed, took another drag. “And?”

Sasha grinned. “And they think you wrote it about somebody.”

The room went quiet.

Eren looked up. Armin shut his laptop. Mikasa sighed again. Connie? Grinning like the devil himself.

Ony rolled his jaw, but he didn’t take the bait. “They think a lot of shit.”

Sasha leaned in. “So they wrong?”

Ony didn’t answer. Just took another hit, eyes locked on his screen.

Connie clapped his hands together. “Aite, y’all know what time it is.”

Ony groaned. “Nigga, shut up.”

Connie laughed. “I would—but you just made this way too fun.”

Y/N sat cross-legged on her bed, phone in one hand, scrolling through Twitter with the other. The TL was on fire.

@notyourbabymama: Nah, Ony was talking to somebody specific on that track. WHO GOT THIS MAN IN HIS FEELINGS?

@2Trill4U: The way this man said “Bitch” like she stole his soul??? 😭

@ThirstTrapQueen: Y’all see how Connie hyped Ony up in the background? That’s a real R&B singer right there.

She snorted, shaking her head. Same internet, same mess.

Then, her phone buzzed.

Connie: 👀 Connie: Lemme know what you think, ma. [🔗 Link to “What These Bitches Want” – Ony x Connie]

Y/N sighed. This nigga…

She hesitated for a second before clicking the link. The song started blasting through her headphones—hard-hitting, raw, and cocky as hell. Connie’s vocals were as smooth as ever, but Ony?

Yeah. That man was spitting venom.

Her stomach twisted. The way he rapped… the way certain lyrics hit? It felt personal.

And then, another notification popped up.

Connie is live now!

Y/N clicked in, and sure enough, there was Connie—lounging in the studio, chain glinting, scrolling through the comments while laughing his ass off.

She smirked. Bet.

@ynlovesfries: Boy, answer your phone.

Connie saw it instantly. “Nahhh, why she in here like she not supposed to be calling me first?” He grinned, shaking his head. “What’s up, trouble?”

@ynlovesfries: Who in trouble?

Connie laughed. “You.”

The comments were eating it up.

🔥 Not y’all arguing like siblings. 🔥 Connie, what you do?? 🔥 Y/N, tell us the tea.

@ynlovesfries: What these bitches want, huh?

Connie hollered. “Ayo, chat, get your girl, man.”

@ynlovesfries: Why Ony sound like he was talkin’ to somebody specific?

Connie gave the camera a knowing look. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Y/N rolled her eyes.

@ynlovesfries: I hate you.

Connie smirked. “Nah, you love me.”

🔥 The chemistry is CRAZY. 🔥 Is Y/N the ex? 👀 🔥 Nah, she know something we don’t.

Y/N snorted, shaking her head. This fool gon’ be annoying all day.

And deep down? She knew he wasn’t gonna let this go.

Connie strolled over and plopped down next to Ony, draping an arm across the couch like he owned the place. The camera caught everything—the dim studio lighting, the way Ony’s diamond earrings and bright-ass chain caught every flicker, making him glow like a damn superstar.

“Aye, Ony,” Connie grinned, eyeing the comments scrolling at light speed. “The ladies say they wanna hear you do that bark you be doin’ in songs.”

Ony, mid-blunt rotation, exhaled slow, thick smoke curling in the air. He side-eyed the camera, his expression unreadable.

The chat exploded.

🔥 NOT THE SIDE EYE OMGGGG 🔥 HIS EARRINGS GLISTENING HE KILLIN ME 🔥 Ony I love you pls just one bark 🔥 WHY IS HE SO FINE FOR NO REASON

Without a word, Ony hit the blunt again, passing it off to Eren, who took it off-camera. He exhaled, voice dropping so deep it damn near rumbled through the mic.

“Why you next to me, Connie?”

CHAOS.

🔥 OH HE KNOW HE FINE LMAOOO 🔥 HIS VOICE JUST PUNCHED ME IN THE CHEST WTF 🔥 HE MAKING EYE CONTACT I CANT BREATHE 🔥 Connie move I wanna sit next to him

Connie threw his head back laughing. “Yo, he got y’all in shambles, man.”

Ony smirked—just barely—then leaned back into the couch, unbothered as hell, while the comments continued losing their minds.

The chat was still losing it over Ony’s deep-ass voice when a new comment popped up.

@ynlovesfries: Ony too cool for the bark now?

Connie’s eyes lit up the second he saw it. “Ayo, nahhh.” He grinned, pointing at the screen. “Look who finally decided to pop in.”

Ony, who had been casually slouched, took a slow sip from his cup—but his shoulders tensed. Just for a second. Blink and you’d miss it.

The comments? Oh, they noticed.

🔥 WHY HE STIFFEN LIKE THAT LMAOOO 🔥 Who is @ynlovesfries and why Ony react like that??? 🔥 That was a GUT REACTION, y’all saw that? 🔥 Oh this some HISTORY HISTORY

Connie was grinning like a man who lived for mess. He turned to Ony. “Ayo, big dog, you got a response or…?”

Ony ignored him. Instead, he grabbed his phone and started scrolling mindlessly, acting like he wasn’t paying attention.

The chat went CRAZY.

🔥 NOT HIM PRETENDING TO BE BUSY 🔥 Boy, we see you! 🔥 WHO IS SHEEEE??

Connie just shook his head, laughing. “Aight, bet. We’ll leave that alone… for now.”

But the way Ony’s jaw flexed?

Yeah. Everybody knew this wasn’t over.

Connie was still going back and forth with Y/N in the comments, laughing at whatever slick response she just sent. The energy was playful, messy—exactly what the chat loved.

Then he hit them with:

“Aye, for the record, she ain’t my girl. We just go way back.” He waved a dismissive hand, eyes still glued to the chat. “I don’t want her busted ass.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Ony—who had been sitting back, real quiet, real unbothered—shifted.

“Watch your mouth.”

Silence.

Connie froze.

The chat? In absolute flames.

🔥 NAHHH WHY HE SAY IT LIKE THAT??? 🔥 Ony said RESPECT HER RIGHT NOW. 🔥 Connie blink twice if you okay. 🔥 This man has not spoken in MINUTES and now he wanna regulate?? 🔥 Y’ALL. HISTORY. THERE IS HISTORY.

Connie glanced over at Ony, who wasn’t even looking at him—just hitting his blunt like nothing happened.

That made it worse.

Connie laughed it off—a little too quickly. “Damn, I was joking.” He looked at the chat, then back at Ony. "you good?”

Ony didn’t answer. He just kept smoking, eyes locked on the screen.

The damage was already done.

The chat was going feral.

🔥 YEAH HE GOT A SOFT SPOT IDC IDC 🔥 Connie you fumbled the convo now spill the tea 🔥 Ony’s reaction was too natural, he BEEN like her 🔥 I KNEWWWW ITTTT

Speculation was at an all-time high. And the worst part?

Ony didn’t correct a damn thing.

The chat was still in shambles from Ony’s warning when a new comment popped up.

@ynlovesfries: Now you gotta put respect on my Constance.

The chat lost its mind.

🔥 NAHHH NOT THE FULL FIRST NAME 🔥 SHE SAID “CONSTANCE” LIKE HIS MAMA 😭😭😭 🔥 HE GOT CHECKED BY BOTH OF THEM LMAOOO 🔥 Connie you gon let that slide??

Connie squinted at the screen, dramatic as hell. “Nah. No, she didn’t.”

He pointed at the camera, looking betrayed. “Don’t be out here government-naming me like I’m in trouble.”

Ony, still leaned back, exhaled smoke slow. “You are in trouble.”

The chat? Finished.

🔥 Y/N & Ony tag team is wild 🔥 Connie getting cooked from all angles 🔥 HE AINT EVEN DEFEND HIMSELF FR

Connie sighed, rubbing his temples. “Man, let’s talk about something else. Y’all play too much.”

Connie was still going back and forth with Y/N in the comments, and the chat was eating it up. Meanwhile, Ony had been posted up, saying nothing, just scrolling his phone like he wasn’t even there.

And the chat noticed.

🔥 Ony just here for vibes? 🔥 Bro acting like he on payroll to sit and smoke 🔥 He really “if it don’t involve me, IDGAF” personified 🔥 Ony blink if they forcing you to be here

Even Connie caught on. He turned to Ony, laughing. “Damn, you gon’ say something or just keep sitting there looking pretty?”

Ony, still cool as hell, arched a brow at the camera. Then he spoke.

“Well, ask me questions then.” He exhaled smoke and tapped his blunt on the tray. “Y’all in the chat nosy fr.”

The chat? Exploding.

🔥 OH SO HE WANNA TALK NOW?? 🔥 Not the callout 😭 🔥 SOMEBODY ASK ABOUT Y/N NOW 🔥 Boy you knew what you were doing with that

Connie leaned back, shaking his head. “Aight, bet. Y’all heard him. Go ahead, ask Mr. Nonchalant whatever you want.”

And just like that, the floodgates opened.

🔥 Ony, what’s your body count? → “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 🔥 What type of girls you like? → “The kind that mind their business.” 🔥 You really like ‘em crazy, huh? → Ony just smirked. “Ain’t say all that.” 🔥 Ayo, what’s up with you and Y/N? → Message deleted by Live Owner

Connie side-eyed the camera, scrolling through the comments. “Y’all moving devious in here, damn.” He shook his head, sipping his drink. “Ony, they saying you dodging too much.”

Ony exhaled smoke and tilted his head. “Well, ask me questions then.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Y’all in the chat nosy fr.”

🔥 OH HE WANNA TALK NOW?? 🔥 SOMEBODY ASK ABOUT Y/N RIGHT NOW 🔥 Boy you knew what you were doing with that 🔥 You keep dodging Y/N like she Steph Curry or sum

The next wave of questions came in even faster.

🔥 Be real, you single or just single for the public? → Ony chuckled. “I don’t do labels.” 🔥 Ony, what was the last text you sent? → “‘Bet. Say less.’” 🔥 When was the last time a girl humbled you? → “Never happened.”

🔥 So when you gon’ settle down? → “When I get tired.”

Connie looked over and laughed. “Boy, stop lying.”

The chat ate it up.

🔥 WE NEED TO FIND HIS LAST EX RN 🔥 He said "when I get tired" like he don’t be fighting sleep already 🔥 Nah, we need Ony’s ex to speak UP

And then, right in the middle of the chaos—

Sasha joined the live.

Her little profile popped up on the screen, and before anybody could even say anything, she hit Ony with the kill shot.

“Hey, Ony—how you wanna bet you gon’ choke when you see Y/N on Thursday?”

BOOM.

🔥 SASHA, PLEASE—😭😭😭 🔥 SHE WASTED NO TIME 🔥 OH WE GETTING TO THE REAL QUESTIONS NOW 🔥 Ony, explain yourself IMMEDIATELY.

Connie was gone. He damn near choked on his drink, coughing while trying to hold in a laugh. “Ayo, chill—” He waved his hand, shaking his head. “Man, it’s an interview. Y’all nosy fr.”

🔥 “An interview” LMAOOO NAH IT’S FATE 🔥 INTERVIEW OR DESTINY??? 🔥 Ony so quiet now, huh? 🔥 Sasha knew what she was doing

Ony? He just sat back, dragging a hand down his face like he was choosing his next words carefully. He let out a slow exhale, passing his blunt back to Eren off-camera.

Connie nudged him. “Damn, bro, you stuck?”

Ony side-eyed him but still didn’t answer.

🔥 OH HE SILENT NOWWW 🔥 HE GOT NOTHING TO SAY HUH? 🔥 Ony, blink twice if you need help 🔥 Sasha knew EXACTLY what she was doing LMFAO

Meanwhile, Sasha was just chilling, biting into a sandwich like she didn’t just drop the biggest bomb of the night.

She licked some sauce off her thumb. “What? I’m just saying.”

🔥 "NAH SASHA BEING MESSY LMAOOO" 🔥 "OH SHE KNOWS SOMETHING—" 🔥 "Y/N JOIN THE LIVE, STOP PLAYING!" 🔥 "DROP THE IG @ WE TRYNA INVESTIGATE."

The comments were moving wild fast, but one stuck out on the screen for a second longer than the rest—

@ynlovesfries: Sasha, you being messy now.

Connie immediately saw it and started laughing. “Ayo, she in here—”

Sasha, mid-chew, didn’t even blink. “And?” She shrugged. “She know I ain’t lying.”

🔥 "YOOO SHE RIGHT HERE AHAHAH" 🔥 "Y/N CONFIRM OR DENY??" 🔥 "NOT HER BESTIE EXPOSING HER ON MAIN."

Then, before Y/N could even try to ignore it, Sasha wiped her fingers off and smirked. “Nah, blame your big head-ass bestie for hosting this live.”

🔥 "BESTIE?? SO THEY CLOSE??" 🔥 "CONNIE WHY YOU AIN’T SAY THAT." 🔥 "OH YEAH, THEY BEEN LINKED, I KNEW IT."

The comments went off.

🔥 "Y/N and Ony definitely had a thing back in the day." 🔥 "WAIT, BESTIE? SO YOU TELLING ME SHE AND CONNIE BEEN CLOSE TOO?" 🔥 "OH, WE NEED Y/N ON THIS LIVE RIGHT NOW."

Connie leaned forward, still scrolling through. “Damn, they on your head, ma.” He chuckled. “Y’all got my comments in detective mode.”

🔥 "NAH, CONNIE DON’T DEFLECT, CONFIRM OR DENY??" 🔥 "Y/N, WE NEED ANSWERS, STOP HIDING!" 🔥 "ON Y/N TO FINALLY SAY SOMETHING."

Sasha sat back, sipping her drink, looking at the chat like she wasn’t the one who just stirred the entire pot.

Then someone finally asked the real question.

🔥 "So if Y/N and Connie besties… does that mean she was around Ony back then?"

🔥 "OOOOHHH WAIT A MINUTE." 🔥 "SO THEY DID KNOW EACH OTHER." 🔥 "THIS LIVE GETTING GOOD."

And now? All eyes were on Ony.

Ony, who was still sitting back, still looking unbothered—except for the fact that he hadn’t said shit.

Connie saw the silence and smirked. “Damn, why he quiet now?”

🔥 "ONYANKOPON, EXPLAIN YOURSELF NOW." 🔥 "Y/N, JUST JOIN THE LIVE AND END THIS MYSTERY." 🔥 "NAH, HE AVOIDING EYE CONTACT AHAHAH."

Sasha side-eyed the screen. “Mm.” She popped another fry in her mouth. “He shook.”

As soon as Y/N’s name popped up on the live screen, the comments went crazy.

🔥 "SHE REALLY JOINED??" 🔥 "OH IT’S ABOUT TO GET GOOD." 🔥 "CONNIE, DON’T FOLD NOW."

The split screen loaded, and there she was—Y/N, sitting back in her room, hoodie on, bonnet secured, looking unbothered.

"Y’all really begged me to get on here," she deadpanned, adjusting her camera.

Connie cracked up immediately. "Nah, don’t act like you wasn’t watching the whole time."

"And?" She raised a brow. "I could’ve stayed lurking."

🔥 "LMAO SHE A LURKER FR." 🔥 "NAH, SHE BEEN HERE, JUST WAITING."

Ony, still laid back, exhaled slow through his nose. He passed the blunt off to Eren and finally spoke.

"Y’all don’t got nothing better to do on this live, huh?" His voice was deep, a little raspy, dragging with that same slow, laid-back energy that made people hang on every word.

🔥 "ONYANKOPON HAS SPOKEN." 🔥 "WHY HE SOUND LIKE THAT THOUGH." 🔥 "NAH, MY KNEES WEAK WTF."

And then, out of nowhere—

@dreamdoll_23: "I'm not Cinderella, but I know it fits 😏."

🔥 "WAIT, WHAT??" 🔥 "OH SHE SHOOTING HER SHOT." 🔥 "NAH, GET HER ON THIS LIVE TOO."

Ony paused mid-blunt pass. His dark eyes flicked down at the screen, squinting slightly.

"Ayo, who said that?" He shifted, leaning in closer. "Tell her hit me up."

🔥 "OH HE BOLD—" 🔥 "NO WAY HE JUST SAID THAT." 🔥 "ONYANKOPONYOU GOTTA RELAX."

Y/N? Dead silent.

She side-eyed the camera, clicked the 'leave' button, and was gone before anyone could say a damn thing.

🔥 "LMAOO SHE LEFT—" 🔥 "OH SHE MAD AHAHA." 🔥 "WHY SHE DODGE LIKE THAT??"

Connie? Cackling.

Sasha? Shaking her head.

Ony? Just smirked. "Aight, aight ." Then he took another drag, like he ain’t just set the chat on fire.

As soon as Y/N dipped from the live, the chat lost its mind.

🔥 "NAH SHE REALLY LEFT—" 🔥 "SHE DIPPED SO FAST LMAOO." 🔥 "ONYANKOPON YOU IN TROUBLE."

Connie was still laughing, shaking his head while sipping from his cup. “Damn, she really ain’t wanna stick around for that.”

Ony? Unbothered.

He stretched, flexing just a little as he leaned back into the couch, scrolling through the comments. Then his gaze flicked back to @dreamdoll_23, the one who said she wasn’t Cinderella but knew it fit.

"Ayo, shorty, you still in here?" He smirked, reaching for his phone.

🔥 "OMG NOT HIM LOOKING FOR HER." 🔥 "HE REALLY BOUT TO FLIRT??" 🔥 "Y/N BOUT TO THROW HANDS LMAOO."

@dreamdoll_23 commented: "I’m here, what's up? 👀"

Ony grinned, licking his bottom lip. "Aight, bet. Drop your IG real quick."

The chat went insane.

🔥 "ONYANKOPON YOU A MENACE." 🔥 "Y/N LEFT TWO SECONDS AGO AND YOU ALREADY MOVING??" 🔥 "BRO GOT NO CHILL."

Connie, watching from the side, shook his head and muttered, "Nah, this man different."

Once @dreamdoll_23 dropped her IG, Ony clicked over to her page right there on live. The screen dimmed slightly as he scrolled through her pictures.

"Oh, you look good, ma." His voice was smooth, deep, dragging in that slow, syrupy way that made the chat explode.

🔥 "NOT HIM DOING THIS IN FRONT OF US." 🔥 "HE REALLY SCROLLING THROUGH HER PICS??" 🔥 "Y/N AIN’T GON LIKE THIS."

Ony smirked, tapping on one of her photos. “Damn, where you from?”

@dreamdoll_23: "NYC, why? You trying to fly me out? 👀"

Connie lost it, nearly spitting out his drink. "Oh hell nah," he wheezed.

Sasha popped back into the chat. "LMAOO not Ony with the bottle girl rizz on IG live."

Ony, still scrolling through her page, chuckled. "I might. You tryna get flewed out?"

🔥 "NOT FLEWED OUT—" 🔥 "OH HE IN HIS BAG NOW." 🔥 "Y/N GONNA BE HOT WHEN SHE SEES THIS."

Someone in the chat: "She look good, but she not Y/N tho."

The whole vibe shifted for a second.

🔥 "LMAOOOOOOO YALL PETTY." 🔥 "WHO SAID THAT." 🔥 "NO ONE CAN ESCAPE Y/N'S SHADOW I SWEAR."

Ony? Still scrolling, still cool. "Y’all love bringing up old shit," he muttered, but there was the tiniest flicker of something in his expression.

Connie? Watching like a hawk.

Sasha? Not letting up.

"Ayo, Ony, you can flirt all you want, but bet money you still gon' freeze up when you see Y/N next week."

🔥 "OHHHHH SHIT." 🔥 "SHE NOT WRONG THO." 🔥 "ONYNKOPON, BE HONEST—YOU SHOOK?"

Ony chuckled, shaking his head. He took another slow drag from his blunt, exhaled thick smoke, and said,

"Man, y’all really think I'm worried? Aight, bet. We’ll see."

a next girl shot her shot saying they say shooters shot hey Onyankopon Carter what up with you.

The moment that comment hit the chat, the whole live went stupid.

🔥 "NAH SHE ATE THAT." 🔥 "SHE SAID WHAT SHE SAID." 🔥 "Y/N COME BACK IMMEDIATELY."

Onyankopon grinned, flashing his grillz as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Aight, who said that?” He scrolled back up, eyes flicking over the flood of reactions. @bigfine94—her profile pic was cute, lips glossy, nails done.

“Ayo, @bigfine94, I see you,” Ony said, his voice dropping a little.

🔥 "LMAO NOT HIM ACKNOWLEDGING IT." 🔥 "SHE REALLY BOLD FOR THAT ONE." 🔥 "SOMEONE GET Y/N ON THE LINE."

@bigfine94: "Yeah, yeah, you see me. But what’s up with you?"

Ony chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m chillin’, ma. You out here tryna make me risk it all on live?”

🔥 "NOT RISK IT ALL—" 🔥 "Y/N GONNA HAVE TO CLOCK IN." 🔥 "THIS MAN TOO SMOOTH WTF."

@bigfine94: "I mean… that smile would look even better when I’m looking back at you. 👀"

THE WHOLE CHAT LOST IT.

🔥 "NAH SHE WON." 🔥 "SHE REALLY SHOT FROM HALF-COURT." 🔥 "Y/N WHERE YOU AT BABY??"

Connie fell out laughing, slapping his knee. “Yo, I like her! She got bars!”

Even Eren, off-camera, let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

Ony? Grinning, licking his bottom lip. "Oh, you bold, bold."

@bigfine94: "Gotta be when it comes to you. 😘"

🔥 "SHE WANT HIM FR." 🔥 "Y/N CHECK YOUR PHONE NOW." 🔥 "ONYANKOPON SMILING TOO HARD."

Ony leaned back, rubbing his jaw. “Aight, @bigfine94, I’ma remember you.”

Connie shook his head, still laughing. “Yeah, you gon’ remember when Y/N cusses your ass out.”

🔥 "CONNIE KNOWS THE TRUTH." 🔥 "THIS GON BE A PROBLEM." 🔥 "Y/N GOTTA SEE THIS."

And just like that, the chat had a new mission—tagging Y/N everywhere.

The chat was already in shambles, but the second Y/N’s name popped up again, things escalated.

🔥 "NAH WHERE Y/N AT??" 🔥 "SHE GOTTA SEE THIS." 🔥 "THAT GIRL REALLY TOOK HER SHOT AND HE SMILING TOO HARD LMAOO."

Sasha, who had been kicking back, watching the chaos unfold, finally spoke up on the live. She adjusted her camera and squinted at the chat.

“Ayo, y’all messy as hell.” She shook her head, laughing. “Why y’all keep bringing Y/N into this? She don’t know Ony like that.”

🔥 "SASHA, BABY, WHY YOU LYIN'??" 🔥 "👀👀👀 SHE SAID WHAT NOW??" 🔥 "NAH WE GOT RECEIPTS."

And just like that, someone in the chat decided to be a full-blown detective.

@deepdiver56: "NAH NAH. You a liar. If y’all scroll all the way down Ony's IG, there’s a pic of them together looking real cozy."

🔥 "WAIT, WAIT, WAIT—" 🔥 "SAY YOU SWEAR." 🔥 "SOMEBODY PULL UP THE LINK IMMEDIATELY."

Ony, who had been laughing, smirking, and playing along this whole time—froze.

Not for long. Just a split-second hesitation. But it was long enough for the chat to notice.

🔥 "GOT HIM." 🔥 "HE FROZE UP LMAOOO." 🔥 "NAH NOW WE NEED ANSWERS."

Connie caught that too, and this man WAS LOVING IT. He leaned into the camera, grinning.

“Damn, Ony, why you stop laughing?” He tilted his head. “You ain’t got nothing to say?”

🔥 "CONNIE A MENACE." 🔥 "HE POKIN’ THE BEAR LMAO." 🔥 "ONY STIFF AS HELL RN."

Ony exhaled slowly, licking his bottom lip before sitting back and picking up his blunt. He took a deep pull, the ember glowing as the chat waited on his response.

“Niggas be bringing up ancient history,” he muttered, voice smooth, heavy. He passed the blunt to Eren off-camera, not looking at the phone.

🔥 "OH HE SICK." 🔥 "‘ANCIENT HISTORY’ MY ASS." 🔥 "Y/N NEEDS TO WAKE UP RN."

Sasha, seeing how cornered Ony looked, tried to smooth things over. “Look, all I’m saying is y’all reading too deep into shit.”

The chat wasn’t hearing it.

@pullupreceipts: "NOOOO CUZ LOOK—"

And before Ony could even shut it down, someone had dropped the link to the old post.

🔥 "YALL MOVE TOO FAST WTF." 🔥 "OH NAH, THIS PIC KINDA INTIMATE??" 🔥 "ONY, BE SO FR RIGHT NOW."

Connie grabbed his phone, clicked the link, and busted out laughing. “Oh yeah,” he said, spinning his phone to Ony’s face. “Bro, you can’t tell me this don’t look like something.”

Ony glanced at it, jaw tensing slightly. The pic wasn’t even that bad—just an old shot from way back. Him and Y/N at some house party, shoulder to shoulder, his arm resting behind her on the couch, a red cup in his other hand.

But the way he was looking at her?

🔥 "NAH. HE LOOKS WHIPPED." 🔥 "HE CAN'T EVEN DENY IT." 🔥 "Y/N BETTER TAP IN REAL QUICK."

Ony sucked his teeth and waved Connie off, voice gruff. “Man, get that out my face.”

🔥 "HE MAD." 🔥 "NAH THIS LIVE TOO GOOD." 🔥 "Y/N WE NEED A RESPONSE ASAP."

And just like that, the entire chat was blowing up her notifications.

Some raggedy tea page said they were gonna record the live

The chat exploded at that statement, and things took a sharp turn.

🔥 "NAH THEY REALLY ABOUT TO MAKE A VIDEO OUTTA THIS??" 🔥 "I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THIS ON YOUTUBE." 🔥 "SOMEONE SCREENSHOT THIS. I NEED TO KNOW WHAT THEY GONNA SAY ABOUT THIS LIVE."

Connie, ever the instigator, couldn't help but laugh at the drama unfolding. “Yo, they really gonna make content outta this? I might as well sell my clips to ‘em at this point.”

🔥 "CONNIE A MESS." 🔥 "HE TOO COMFORTABLE WITH THE CHAOS." 🔥 "IF THIS GETS PUT ON YOUTUBE, YALL KNOW IT’S GOING VIRAL."

Sasha rolled her eyes from the side, shaking her head. “Man, y’all wild.” But even she couldn’t deny the entertainment value of the situation.

Then, the tea page made their mark:

@TeaTimeWithTash: “I’m recording this entire live. I’m dissecting every second for my YouTube, y’all better believe that. Stay tuned.”

🔥 "SHE'S DOING GOD'S WORK." 🔥 "I'M FINNA BE IN THE COMMENTS." 🔥 "THEY GONNA EXPOSE EVERYTHING."

Ony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, looking done. “Y’all really finna turn this into a whole show, huh?” he muttered under his breath. He looked straight into the camera, his eyes narrowing. “Fine. Keep playing. Just wait ‘til the real interview drops. Then we’ll see who really has the story.”

🔥 "OOOOOH, TALK YOUR TALK." 🔥 "HE READY TO DROP THE TRUTH." 🔥 "MAN SAID THE REAL STORY."

Connie leaned back and shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant. “Shit, let ‘em have their fun. The reception is already wild.”

Sasha, realizing just how deep the mess was getting, tried to get things back on track. “Aight, aight, that’s enough for today. Y’all are really out here making mikasa's job harder.”

But the chat was relentless. Everyone had their eyes glued to the screen.

🔥 "YALL KNOW THIS ABOUT TO GO CRAZY ON THE INTERNET." 🔥 "SASHA, YOU KNOW YOU CAN’T STOP THE STORM." 🔥 "SO WHAT ABOUT THAT PIC??"

The chaos finally calmed down, but only slightly. Connie, still lounging comfortably in the chair, leaned back and checked his phone. His smile faltered when he saw his notifications blowing up—from Y/N.

He rolled his eyes, his lips curling into a grin as he swiped open his messages. Y/N’s texts were coming in fast and furious, each one more fiery than the last:

Y/N: "I swear, you really out here causing trouble? What’s this nonsense you got me involved in?" Y/N: "Why you acting like I’m some kind of side chick?"

Connie bit back a laugh, knowing exactly what he was doing. He wasn’t about to let this slide. His fingers tapped out a quick reply:

Connie: "C’mon Ma, it ain't like that. Chill, we all know it’s just some fun."

But before he could finish typing, his phone started blowing up again—this time with voice notes from Y/N. He looked over at Ony, who was still quietly smoking, smirking at the chaos and still watching people go off on the live. The fans in the comments had noticed Connie’s sudden activity on his other phone and took it the wrong way.

🔥 "Connie out here texting some girl while on live??" 🔥 "We see you, Connie. Don’t act like we don’t know." 🔥 "I swear Connie’s always got some new girl on the side."

Meanwhile, Connie was trying to hold it together, though his attention was clearly split. He didn’t care much about the comments—he was more focused on Y/N’s voice notes.

He pressed play on the first one:

Y/N’s voice: “Don’t even try to play me right now. You really out here acting like we cool with this? I’m not one of your damn groupies.”

Connie couldn't help but chuckle. "I know she’s mad… but damn, she sound good." He quickly hit reply:

Connie: "You know I ain't like that. Stop trippin', it’s just a lil’ live to mess with the fans."

The next voice note came through, and it was longer this time.

Y/N’s voice: “Man, don’t play with me. You know what you’re doing. You can’t keep me out here looking dumb for a bunch of randoms who think they know us. I ain’t some prop you can use for content, Connie. Stop it.”

Connie looked at the screen, grinning mischievously. He knew he had to play it cool.

Connie: "C’mon, ma. You know I got love for you. It’s just for the live. Ain’t nobody here serious, and you know that. But you gonna make me pull up on you again, huh?"

He clicked send and leaned back, glancing at Ony who was now chuckling under his breath. The reactions on the live had already taken a life of their own, with people speculating left and right.

🔥 "Y’all peepin’ Connie’s texts?" 🔥 "He gotta be texting some girl. Ain’t no way he not." 🔥 "Yo, why y’all making this mess, Connie?"

Connie just smiled to himself. “Nah, don’t worry. This ain't what they think.”

But the situation was spiraling in ways no one could’ve predicted. Connie was getting his inbox blown up with messages from fans who thought it was all about him texting a new girl.

🔥 "Connie, you got a new shorty or nah?" 🔥 "Y’all gotta put some respect on Y/N's name tho, why she getting dragged into this mess?"

As the notifications kept popping up, Connie got a quick idea. He typed out another message to Y/N:

Connie: "Let me call you. I ain't finna let the fans get this twisted. Let's talk it out."

He hit send, then quickly switched back to the live screen. The fans were still commenting, but now their focus was split. Some of them were more intrigued about the mystery woman, while others were invested in whether Connie and Y/N would finally clear things up.

The live ended after a few more minutes, but Connie wasn't done just yet. He called Y/N directly, hoping she’d answer—knowing the game wasn’t over until they both had their say.

Y/N’s POV:

The second I left that damn live, I felt relief—but it was short-lived. The chaos I had just stepped away from continued to churn in the background like a storm. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, fingers hovering over the screen for a moment as I took a deep breath.

I knew I had to check.

I opened my spam account, because this was definitely the kind of mess that needed to be observed with a little distance. The comments section was on fire, and I couldn’t even blink without something new popping up. People were dissecting every word I said, every movement, and the way Ony reacted to me. Honestly? I wasn’t surprised. They’d been on our necks since day one, trying to piece together a puzzle we weren't even sure of ourselves.

I scrolled through the live recap and watched it all unfold again:

Ony still sitting there, looking like he was unbothered, but I knew deep down it was all just an act. The way he was flirting with those girls, dropping bars like it was nothing, and the way he casually slipped into his player role. It made my stomach churn in a way I couldn’t quite explain. I shouldn’t be mad—I mean, that was Ony after all—but for some reason, today hit different.

He wasn’t even trying to hide it, really. He kept calling out the girls, knowing full well the camera was on him, reading off the comments. He wasn’t even sparing me a second of attention… until they started mentioning my name.

The comments flooded in:

🔥 "I heard Y/N and Ony used to be close, anyone else see that old pic of them together?" 🔥 "Y’all think they linked up again?" 🔥 "Yo, anyone else notice Ony stiffen when they said her name?"

I saw Connie’s comment too, cracking jokes, calling me out for being messy, and every time I saw his face, I wanted to scream. He was egging everything on. He knew exactly what he was doing. And I was over here, stuck in my head, trying to figure out why the hell I ever thought we’d have a chance at being something real.

But as I kept watching, something caught my eye. Ony—he was still flirting, but there was that moment… That moment when someone had mentioned my name again. He froze, and it was almost unnoticeable. The way his body stiffened, how his eyes flickered for just a second. He’d seen me, right? He had to have.

My chest tightened, the whole situation getting way more personal than it had any right to. And then, out of nowhere, the screen filled with this one comment that I wasn’t ready for:

🔥 "Ayo, if y’all scroll down Ony's IG, there's a pic of him and Y/N looking mad cozy. Bet they used to mess with each other for real."

It felt like my breath caught in my throat as I immediately pulled up his Instagram, my thumb moving on its own. The pic was there, the one we tried to forget. Me and Ony, our arms draped around each other, looking like we were in our own little world. The comments exploded with speculation, and it didn’t help that Ony froze in the live when it was brought up.

That was the part I had been trying to avoid. The truth I had been running from.

I was just about to back out when Sasha’s voice broke through my thoughts. She was on the live too, teasing Ony and Connie about us. I was already feeling awkward enough but hearing Sasha say, “Sasha you being messy now, they don’t even know Ony like that,” just made it worse. It was clear that everyone knew something was going on, even if no one had the full story.

And then came the comment that made me sigh.

🔥 "Nah nah, u a liar. If y’all scroll all the way down, Ony’s IG got pics of him and Y/N from back in the day looking real cozy!"

That moment was the one where everything changed. The floodgates opened. The speculations were no longer rumors. They were facts now, and I couldn’t deny it. My phone was buzzing like crazy, Connie was probably texting me again, and I didn’t even know how to respond.

I needed space.

I needed time to think about it all. But all I wanted to do was shut down. So I turned my phone off for a second, letting out a long breath. What the hell was I doing? What was this really all about?

The minute I swiped my phone back on, I could feel the weight of it all. Connie had probably texted me again, and I knew damn well that Ony was probably still trying to keep up the same front in the live. The world seemed to be spinning faster than I could keep up. I could feel the drama building, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for whatever came next.

But before I could process it, my phone buzzed again. This time, it was a new message:

“You up?”

It was from Connie.

I took a deep breath, knowing this was the moment where everything could either get better… or even worse.

I stared at my phone, the screen lighting up with Connie’s name flashing across my notifications. Text after text and a voice note popping up right after. My fingers hovered over the screen as I debated whether to even listen to his damn voice notes. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was probably laughing his ass off on the other side, thinking this whole mess was some kind of game.

But I wasn’t playing.

I wasn’t sure if it was the live still replaying in my mind or the fact that the whole world seemed to be speculating about my past with Ony, but I couldn’t take it anymore.

I tapped on the first message.

Connie: “Ayo, you see what’s going on in the live? You know the fans always digging for something, but you’re making it worse by not even acknowledging it. Come on, we just having fun!”

I rolled my eyes. Fun? Really? This wasn’t fun. This was messy, and I didn’t sign up for this shit. I typed a reply, my fingers typing faster than my brain could process.

Y/N: “Messy?? You think this is funny? You’re encouraging this chaos, and I’m over here trying to move on, and now all of a sudden my entire past with Ony’s getting dragged up. You think that’s a joke?!”

I stared at the screen for a second, feeling my pulse quicken. His next voice note buzzed through.

Connie's Voice Note: "C'mon, Y/N. I get it, you're not into all this public drama, but look, they love to speculate, and that's what they do. Just let it ride, fam. Ony ain't trippin', you shouldn’t either. You already know how the game goes. No need to act like you ain't got a little fun in you. You good, I promise.”

His voice was calm, but that didn’t make me feel any better. If anything, it pissed me off more. I took a moment to breathe, then replied, feeling the heat rise in my chest.

Y/N: “Nah, I don’t care if we’re best friends, this shit ain’t funny, Connie. You’re out here hyping it up like it’s a damn game. I’m over it. I didn’t ask for any of this. I’m not some side character in y’all’s reality show, and I’m done letting people drag me into this mess.”

I hit send, then threw my phone on the couch, running my hands through my hair. This whole situation had gone from annoying to straight-up frustrating. I wasn’t a part of their drama—not anymore—and if they couldn’t see that, I didn’t know what to do.

Then the phone buzzed again, almost instantly.

Connie’s Text: "Alright, alright. My bad, I feel you. But you know how these lives go. Don’t stress it. You know me better than anyone, and I got your back."

I stared at the message for a long moment, trying to process it. He wasn’t wrong about one thing: I did know him better than anyone. But that didn’t make it any easier to ignore what had happened in the live. Ony was in there, putting on his usual show, acting like everything was just business as usual.

But this wasn’t business as usual to me.

Ony and I had a past. That wasn’t something that could be erased just because people were speculating. And the way he just sat there, flirting with those fans while I was being dragged through the mud, made me question a lot of things.

I leaned back, shaking my head. He had a way of making everything seem effortless, like nothing ever mattered. But maybe that was the problem.

Maybe it never mattered to him.

I closed my eyes for a second, letting the thoughts settle. The buzz of my phone pulled me back to reality. Another text, this time from Connie.

Connie: "Y/N, seriously. I’m just trying to lighten the mood. Look, Ony will handle it. The live's over, and the smoke will clear. You’ll see."

I didn’t reply right away. Instead, I felt my frustration bubble up again. If only it were that easy. But nothing with Ony was ever easy.

I grabbed my phone, hit Connie's number, and let it ring through, hoping he'd answer. He picked up on the third ring.

“Y/N, I know you're mad, but—”

I didn’t let him finish. “Connie, this isn’t about you or me. It’s about the fact that I’m not playing this game. I don’t care if you think it’s fun. I’m tired of being caught in the middle of this shit. It’s messy. I didn’t sign up for it, and I’m done being your entertainment.”

There was silence on the other end for a second. “I get it,” he finally said, voice softer. “I really do. But, Y/N, you know better than anyone, the game never stops. People love the drama, and they love the what-if stories. Hell, we all do.”

I sighed, feeling the weight of everything. “Not this time,” I muttered, before hanging up.

I wasn’t looking for drama. I wasn’t here to be part of a show. I was done with that life.

But somehow, I couldn’t stop thinking about the one person who was always in the background of it all—Ony. And I wasn’t sure I could ever really move past it.

I heard Connie chuckle on the other end of the line, and I immediately knew where this was going.

“I know what this is about,” he said, a playful tone in his voice. “It’s about Ony flirting with those IG baddies on the live, isn’t it? That’s what’s got you all stressed out like this.”

My stomach dropped. He wasn’t wrong, but hearing him say it out loud just made everything feel more real, more exposed. I rubbed my temple, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Connie,” I said, my voice low. “Don’t act like I’m the only one who saw that. You think I don’t know how this looks? I’m over here, trying to handle everything, and he’s out there, acting like he didn’t just ruin everything. Flirting with those girls, and I’m supposed to just let it slide?”

There was a brief silence on the other end, and I could almost hear Connie processing my words. Then he finally spoke up again, his tone quieter this time.

“Look, Y/N, I’m not saying you’re wrong for feeling like this. But I’m telling you, Ony’s not like that. He’s always been this way. You know him better than anyone else, and you know how he plays the game.”

“I get that, Connie, but that doesn’t make it easier,” I snapped, my patience wearing thin. “I can’t keep pretending like it’s all just for show. When it’s me, it’s real. So what the hell am I supposed to think when he’s out there laughing it off?”

Connie let out a deep breath. “I get it. You want him to be real with you, but he’s… well, he’s Ony. You know how he is. He keeps his distance. That’s his thing. He doesn’t let people in.”

“Yeah, well,” I muttered, my frustration bubbling back to the surface, “I used to think I was someone he let in.”

“Y/N, come on,” Connie said softly, a little more serious now. “You know he’s always had a way of keeping things complicated. But you were always more than just another girl to him. If you think otherwise, you’ve got it twisted.”

I felt a lump form in my throat at his words. Connie always knew how to hit me where it hurt, even when he wasn’t trying to. It was too easy for him to say things like that, to remind me that I wasn’t just a part of the game.

But that didn’t change the fact that Ony had chosen to let me walk away. He could’ve stopped me. He didn’t.

And now, it was too late.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep myself composed. “I’m not going to be a part of his little publicity stunt just to make him look good,” I said firmly. “This isn’t some reality TV show. It’s my life.”

Connie paused before answering, his voice a little more hesitant. “I feel you. But, look, Ony’s not trying to hurt you. He’s just… doing his thing. You just gotta trust that he knows what he’s doing. When you see him Thursday, you’ll see it.”

“You think so?” I asked, the words heavy with doubt.

“Yeah. I do.” There was a moment of silence between us before Connie added, “And if you need to talk before Thursday, you know where to find me.”

I didn’t respond right away, taking a few seconds to breathe before I finally said, “Yeah. Thanks, Connie. I’ll think about it.”

After a beat, I hung up.

My mind was racing. What was I even supposed to think about all this?

I tossed my phone back down onto the couch, staring at the ceiling as the weight of everything pressed down on me. Ony was out there, doing his thing, while I was over here, trying to make sense of it all. But was I really going to let him walk all over me again? Just because he wanted to keep up the player image?

I wasn’t sure I could keep up with this anymore. And the hardest part was that I didn’t know whether I even wanted to try.

But one thing was for sure—I wasn’t just going to sit back and let him get away with it. Not this time.

[huginsmemory]

Really can't get over the CAN WE TALK? stickynotes. And I mean I think part of it really kinda clicked when I've seen some fanart about it. We really see in TBOB that Ford after beginning to hear voices slipping through the cracks and questions Bill, to learn what Bill really intended, ENTIRELY shuts down his communication with Bill. And you see Bill when he gets questioned in that moment responds with a heavily implied dialogue along the lines of "haha, yeah I tricked you, I'm here to overtake your dimension". But Bill still expects Ford to respond to him in some way, and it's very clear that Bill is shocked when Ford REFUSES to talk to him. And what's interesting is Bill doesn't just IMMEDIATELY begin with threats; he actually leaves stickynotes first, before Bill realizes he's FUCKED UP big time and gets really nasty. There's something pleading with the CAN WE TALK? sticky note. There's a point where Bill does realize he's not getting what he expected, that he's missing Ford, and that he's willing to possibly even smooth some things over, explain things better (maybe even the part that the nightmare dimension is unraveling perhaps) or persuade Ford into Bill's plans. But Ford refuses, and it's already too late for Bill because just like with Stan, Ford feels betrayed and when Ford feels betrayed he'll mercilessly cut the person out of his life. Ford deeply, deeply holds hurt and betrayal and as a result he has zero desire to speak with Bill again (and also uhhh big red flag to take over the world, so also. Yeah).

And it's interesting because it's a slower ramp up until Bill is desperate and threatens, uses violence, because that's what he's always used when it comes down to it, and an ultimatum is given. It wasn't just threats out of the gate; Bill DID try to speak to Ford (btw this is not me being like Ford should have spoken to Bill and it would be magically healthy, cause no matter how you slice it it's just a toxic mess tbh). Threats out of the gate would have been faster; there's over three weeks in the timeline, before Ford goes through the portal (althought we don't get too much context around exactly when everything occurs). That's a lot of time! But Bill didn't threaten Ford immediately. And I think part of that reason is because Bill expected Ford to speak to him, expected their relationship or at least their project to mean enough to Ford that Ford would speak to him and then continue their work, once his anger cooled off. And I think also part of it is because Bill cared about Ford, not that he'd admit it in the moment; but he'd rather Ford willingly be alongside him, then have to force him through threats to do the work on the portal. You see that, even after Ford spends 30 years trying to kill him and nearly even does, when he offers him during wierdmageddon to be a henchmaniac. Bill cares about Ford, wants Ford beside him. But then Ford continues to refuse to engage with him at all, and Bill realizes he's lost Ford, and progressively gets more desperate and angrier as he's still refused, and falls into the violence he usually uses, to get Ford to cooperate.

Anyhow it's one of those things that you wonder what would've happened if they DID speak, but that would ultimately be defying a big part of who Ford is... So in a way it's a juicy juicy tidbit to chew on, the implications beyond the writing on the sticky note.

[katstarry]

no one noticed | take our time

eddie munson x reader

part ii

masterlist ☆

part i | part iii

summary: you and eddie grow closer when eddie invites you to hangout outside of school.

warnings: fluff, pining, the upside down doesn’t exist here! a slow burn apparently, reader is introverted kinda

a/n: my obsession with him comes and goes but whenever it comes back IT COMES BACK HARDD 😭 it’s been a week of it consuming me again, i need more content of eddie! (robin & reader are very birds of a feather coded in my head)

feedback + reblogs are appreciated! ☆

you rush over to where robin is seated, not bothering to get in line for food. you’ll go later.

“i’m going crazy.” is what you say as soon as you reach her, interrupting what she was about to say, her mouth agape.

an amused expression covers her features, “oh? and why exactly, are you going crazy?” she leans closer to you, a knowing look in her eye.

you take a seat beside her, your back to eddie’s table.

“we got paired up for a project in history class.” is all you say as you steal a cold french fry from her tray.

“hey!” she swats your hand away, but she’s too late, “paired up, huh? i bet you’re thrilled!” she smiles over at you.

you groan and put your face in your hands.

“it wasn’t so bad, honestly. it was pretty fun. i didn’t make a fool of myself.” your words were muffled in between your hands, “…at least i hope not.” you say, facing your friend once again.

she laughs at your distress, “oh c’mon! you should be happy that you finally have an excuse to talk to him!”

“it’s not funny, robin! how am i going to survive this? oh my god, robin.” you look at her smiling, you know that you’re being dramatic. but besides your nerves, you are pretty excited to finally be talking to eddie.

“what?” she raises her eyebrows at you, eating her fries.

“he’s so dreamy.”

robin gags, “gross.”

you nudge her shoulder laughing, “oh please! maybe you’re right. i should just be happy about this. he was pretty nice.” you look at her and sigh dramatically, “it was pretty nice.”

“you’re hopeless.”

“you’re supposed to be hyping me up right now! i finally talked to my crush.”

“yeah, and i still can’t believe it only took you being partners for it to happen. by force.” she laughs when you pout.

“okay, okay! yes, of course i’ll hype you up. he’ll totally ask you out, though. i bet he’s thinking of you right now, planning how to do it. actually, he’s planning your marriage as we speak.”

“okay. let’s not get too crazy now.” you laugh, moving to stand to finally get in line for some food, but blushing at the thought nonetheless.

robin rolls your eyes at you, “you are too far gone.”

you steal one last fry from her before leaving, hearing a faint “oh c’mon!” behind you.

standing in line, you see the same girl from your history class in front of you, elizabeth? you think her name is?

she turns around, “oh, hey!”

“hey, elizabeth, right?”

“yes! you’re y/n? right?”

you smile, “yeah, we have history together.”

“right! i hope this project is over with quickly, i got stuck with byers,” she glanced at a table, “but it can’t be as bad as munson.”

you were taken aback, you knew what other people thought of him, but being outright rude is crazy.

“oh! eddie’s a great partner, honestly… we spent the class coming up with ideas. jonathan’s really nice too, i’ve helped him take some photos before for the yearbook.”

she raises an eyebrow at you, “hm. hopefully he won’t bring your grade down.”

you feel uneasy now, what’s her problem? do these people even give eddie a chance and actually talk to him?

“i doubt it, he seemed pretty excited.”

she laughs, “that’s because a girl is finally giving him some attention.”

“no, it’s because we’re working on a project together. and i dunno, i don’t talk trash about him?” you state, plainly, giving her an unamused look, not interested in continuing the conversation.

“wow, didn’t know you could even talk that much. that’s the most i’ve ever heard you speak!” she tilts her head at you mockingly, clearly you’ve upset her.

you don’t answer her, “could you move up? the lines moving.” avoiding her taunting gaze.

you see her roll her eyes from your peripheral, and she finally turns back around.

letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in, you finally make it to the food. mood ruined. why are people so mean. you’re starving. at least they’re serving your favorite today, chicken nuggets and fries. such an amazing meal, the best school food gets.

walking back to robin you catch a glimpse of eddie, he’s making another dramatic display. you don’t catch what he’s saying, since he stops his rant as you’re about to walk by, where he happens to be walking.

he bows dramatically, giving you room to walk around him, “my apologies, madame.” he smiles at you.

you shake your head laughing, “thank you, sir.”

you sit beside robin once again.

“finally! you’re back. it’s been too long! we’re finally reunited.” robin gives you a dramatic side hug.

“i know, sorry! i was held up by a troll. asked me to solve a riddle, couldn’t figure it out.”

she laughs, “oh yeah? how’d you make your away around it?”

“i ate it.” you deadpan, opening your pack of ketchup.

you finally turn to look over at her, both of you burst out laughing.

as you eat, you explain to robin your conversation with elizabeth.

“what an asshole.” she says as you both stand to throw away your trash and put away your trays.

“i know right!” you shake your head, putting your tray away.

“i just don’t understand why it bothers people so much if people don’t talk. like, hello! maybe they just don’t want to talk to you?” she says, “or- or, like why it bothers people so much that people are different from them, in general? the times i’ve occasionally spoken with eddie, he seemed pretty chill.” she raises her hands in exasperation.

“right? i don’t get it either.” you sigh.

walking out the cafeteria you join robin by her locker, before going to your own, where she accompanies you as well, and grab what you need.

“see you at dismissal?” you say.

“yup! i don’t have practice today, steve’s gonna pick me up. i got a shift after school today.” she gives you a fist bump before going on her way to class.

it’s finally the end of the day.

you can finally take that nap.

you make your way to your locker, leaving your books.

by the door on your way out you see robin, “we’re free!” she exclaims.

she wraps her arms around your shoulders, “let’s get outta here.” you say.

“what do you plan to do? while i’m away at family video, locked inside there, along with an annoying dingus, with no other choice but to do work?” she lets out an exasperated breath, looking over to you.

“i was planning on taking a nap.”

“fun!” she says, with fake enthusiasm. “was kinda hoping for a, ‘i’ll come by and see you, of course! you’re my bestest friend! i won’t let you suffer alone!’ but i see now how much you truly care about me.”

you laugh, “i’ll come by to see you, robs.” making your way to your car, steve isn’t here yet, so robin walks with you.

“really?” she says hopefully.

“yeah, after i take my nap.” you say, looking straight ahead.

“oh c’mon! your naps always last, like, forever!” she whines.

“it won’t be that long this time!” you look at her, and she looks at you.

“okay maybe it will be.”

she shakes her head as you reach your car, leaning onto it.

“you and your fucked sleep schedule.”

“it’s me and my crap sleep schedule against the world.”

“hey, i thought it was you and me against the world!”

you were too busy bantering with robin that you didn’t realize eddie walking up behind you.

he was looking for you in the hallways, even stopped by your locker. he was working up his courage all throughout lunchtime, and his last classes.

“y/n! wait!” he calls out your name, jogging to reach you.

you stop what you were about to say, staring at robin.

seeing her light up, a smirk appearing on her face.

turning your head, you’re met with eddie, hands on his knees, catching his breath.

“eddie?”

“yeah, hey. it’s me. givemeasec.” he breathes out, before standing upright again.

“hello.” he turns to robin, “and hello.” he nods his head to her.

“hey.” she looks behind him and looks back at you, “oh would you look at that? my rides here! i’ll call you later y/n! bye!” she leaves before you can even respond. you look at the direction she ran, steve’s not even here yet.

eddie turns back to face you, also looking confused by robin’s sudden disappearance.

“s’that usually happen?” he has an amused look on his face.

you shake your head, “no.”

“ah well- uh anyway. i wanna ask you something.”

oh? okay. cool. he wants to ask you something.

“yeah?”

“yeah.” he looks at you.

“okay.. you can ask me anything, eddie.”

“right! shit, uh. i was wondering, are you doing anything? later?” he sees your panicked look, he backtracks, “i mean to, y’know, work on the project.” nice save.

ah. you hide your disappointment, “oh, yeah sure. i’m not doing anything today.” oh robin’s gonna be pissed that you canceled your nap for this and not see her at work.

“okay, cool. uhh where do you wanna meet? i mean, we could go to my place? or if not that’s cool too we could go to the library or something. dunno.” he kicks a loose pebble in the parking lot, messing with his rings. cute.

“your place is fine. i could just follow right behind you,” you jiggle your keys in-front of you, “i gotta call my mom first though, let her know.” you flush, “uh, where is your place?” you ask, knowing your mom would want to know.

“it’s uh the forest hills trailer park.” he continues to fiddle with his rings, looking at you now.

“right, i know where that is. let me just ring her real quick, yeah? i’ll be right back!” you head towards the telephones outside the school, call your mom and assure her it’s just for a project and that you won’t take that long.

you head back to your car, seeing eddie still standing nearby.

“all good?” he says, smiling.

“yeah, let’s go.” you smile back.

on your drive there you realize what exactly you’re doing.

your going to eddie’s place.

you’re freaking out.

it’s okay, that’s cool. it’s just for the project. you have your notebook in your book bag still. you have your notes.

entering the trailer park and parking beside his van, you mentally prepare yourself. oh god, you’re going into his home.

breathe! you still can’t even believe your mom let you come over in the first place, to a boys place.

seeing eddie get out his van, you get out your car with your bag and stand awkwardly as you wait for him.

“this way, madame.” he says, walking ahead of you and up to the trailer. grabbing his keys from his pocket, he opens the door and lets you in first.

“welcome to my paradise.” he walks in after you, shutting the door behind him.

you look around the small living room. it’s cozy, comfortable, it feels homey. you gently place your bag on the couch.

“it’s a nice place eddie.”

he laughs and turns away, heading to the kitchen.

“you don’t have to lie.”

“i’m not lying.” you say, genuinely. “i used to live in a trailer too.”

he looks up, grabbing two cups. “really?”

you nod, “best years of my life, honestly. we moved to our current house when i was about,” you look up in thought, “7? 8? maybe?” you head over to where eddie stood.

he hums in acknowledgment. “didn’t know that.”

you shrug, “never really talked about it, not a big deal really.”

looking at you, he asks “would you like some water? soda? you can take a seat y’know.” he smiles over at you as he heads to the fridge.

taking a seat at one of the chairs at the table you answer, “hmm, what soda do you have?”

“uhh.. let me see.” he moves things around, “got some pepsi, sprite, coke..”

“i’ll take some coke, please.”

“comin’ right up, sweetheart.”

your brain nearly explodes.

oh you’re definitely calling robin after this.

he comes back to you with two cans of coke for the both of you.

“thank you. what a wonderful host.” you smile at him as he pulls out the chair beside yours and sits in it.

“you’re welcome.” he laughs.

“right.. so..” you open your can, “the project?”

a brief look of confusion crosses eddie’s face. right. the project.

he clears his throat, “yeah, the project. um, i’ll be getting the stuff tomorrow.” he stepped out during lunch for a bit to sell and earn some more cash, thankfully he got enough for the materials for the poster board, they’re pretty affordable anyway.

“alright, cool! thank you for that, by the way. i wouldn’t of had minded buying it.”

he shakes his head, drinking from his can. “no, no. it’s fine. i don’t mind.”

you’re about to say something when he gives you a look, “fine.” you huff in defeat.

“good.” he smiles, knowing he won.

“let me grab my notebook from my bag.” you get up and grab your book bag from the couch, unzipping it and looking for your notebook.

huh.

you look through it again, pulling out the ones you do have, double checking.

you can’t believe it. you literally have all your notebooks, except your history one. you sigh frustratedly, zipping your bag back up and heading back towards the kitchen, empty handed.

“couldn’t find it?”

“couldn’t find it.” you continue to stand, “sorry.”

“nah, it’s fine. uh.” he looks at his watch, “hasn’t been that long, if you, maybe wanna stay for a bit longer?” he taps on his can, please say yes.

you keep your excitement at bay, trying to remain cool.

“yeah, that’d be cool.” nice. super cool.

“cool.”

you sit back down, “so..” you smile, looking down at your can of coke.

“soo….” he mimicks.

“i wanted to let you know, about me calling my mom, it isn’t because i don’t trust you, i swear. she just likes knowing where i am, she worries.” you look at him.

“it’s all good. don’t worry ‘bout it.” though he does look as though he feels more comfortable now, “you get used to it.”

“you shouldn’t have to.”

he shrugs, changing the subject, “nice that your mom’s protective of you though.”

you laugh, “not as much as my dad though.”

“really? what’s he like?” he tilts his head at you, asking in genuine curiosity.

“well.. i’m the only girl. so you could imagine how protective he can be. he’s not like, controlling, but he’s just a bit strict. curfews and stuff like that.”

“hmm. you have siblings, then? brothers?”

“yeah,” you smile, “three actually. 2 older brothers and one younger. my older brothers moved out already though, but they visit frequently.. do you have any?”

“me? nah, no, i don’t. only son.”

you nod your head.

“live here with my uncle wayne, actually.” he moves his gaze back down to the table, “he works at the factory most days, ‘s why he’s not here right now.”

“oh cool, my dad used to work there too.”

“what’s he work in now?”

“construction. he’s out of the city on the weekdays, comes home on weekends. though sometimes he doesn’t come for a few weeks if the job is too far away.”

this is the most you’ve told someone about yourself, other than robin, in just a day.

you’re really going crazy.

“that’s cool-” he tries to find a way to lighten the mood after seeing your expression, but accidentally lets out a loud burp.

you laugh and he smiles.

“‘scuse me.” he laughs, covering his mouth.

“i lived with my brothers, trust me, you’re all good.” still laughing.

“what’s your uncle like?”

he goes on to talk about his uncle wayne, the conversation goes smoothly. you feel at ease with eddie’s jokes and banter, it’s an automatic click. a rare thing for you to come by, you hope this is the first of many hangouts. you realize that your closest friends are the complete opposite of you—robin, who can somehow make a conversation not boring, always including you with her other friends and makes you be apart of the conversation. it’s the same with eddie, how do they do it? it must be a superpower, or something.

you finish laughing after a story he had been telling you involving his friends from hellfire when you speak up, “could you tell me the time?”

he looks down at his watch, “uhh, it’s about to be 7 o’clock,” looking at you through his bangs, “tryna ditch me, sweetheart?”

dramatically grabbing at his chest, he says “i’m wounded.” and nearly falls out his chair.

“definitely. yeah, i can’t wait to get outta here.” you reply sarcastically, “i do have to go though.” you sigh.

“i had a lot of fun.”

he crosses his arms and smiles. “as did i.”

you get up from the chair, eddie does too and walks to the couch, grabbing your bag and handing it to you once you reach him. “thanks.”

he opens the door for you and walks you to your car, “we should uh, do this again sometime. hangout..” he scratches his neck, looking around before looking at you once again.

“i’d love to!” you twirl your keys in your hand.

“cool! can’t wait.” he clears his throat. “see you tomorrow? at school?”

“see you, eddie.” you smile over at him when you open your car door, getting in and closing it.

you can’t stop smiling on your drive home, you just hung out with your crush. you’re friends with your crush now.

right as you get home and talk to your mom, you immediately call robin spending another few hours talking to her.

you go to sleep that night feeling happy, and you can’t wait for the next day to come.

[foodfightnovelization]

ROTTEN: Behind The Foodfight

Holy chips! It's an exciting time to be a Foodfight! fan, because ROTTEN: Behind The Foodfight is finally out! This really is THE definitive documentary on the insanity behind the movie, and it finally answers the question of just what was going on behind the scenes during production. Since I helped out with research (and I even get a short line of dialogue at 45:19) I've already seen everything that was shown off, but had to keep quiet until all the interviews were conducted and the documentary was finished. But now it's out and everything has been made public, the cat's out of the bag (the Fat Cat Burglar?) and I can talk about all the production material that's been shared.

Before I get into any of that though, I'd highly recommend you watch the documentary for yourself. It's insanely well researched and put together, and having worked together with Ziggy Cashmere (the documentary's creator) I know how hard he dedicated himself towards making this all possible. If it weren't for him, the most interesting Foodfight! discovery would've been finding the novelization, and we would have never gotten any real insight into how this movie came to be. It's also a documentary that really speaks for itself- I don't want to say too much about what it reveals since it's all expressed far better through its narrative and the interviews with people who actually worked on the project. My favorite is the interview with texture artist Mona Weiss- she tells such horrifying stories about how she was treated by Larry and other crewmembers, yet does it all with a sense of humor that makes it clear she's enjoying getting to talk about her crazy experiences. It's clear Foodfight! was an unmitigated disaster from start to finish, and there's nobody to blame for that but Larry Kasanoff himself. The movie was rotten from the top down and despite the countless talented animators and artists working on it, nothing could fix the fact that it was fundamentally mismanaged in the worst way possible. I think the quote from producer George Johnsen summarizes it best: "Foodfight! was a good idea that unfortunately lost its way during production. The technology, the art, and the direction were not in sync. Many very talented people gave their all to make the picture, but more understanding of process from the top was needed for it to succeed."

But if you saw the documentary, you already know all that, right? So instead, let's talk about the behind-the-scenes material that's finally been shared! You can find everything I'll talking about HERE on archive.org-

It's worth following the link and checking it out for yourself- there's so much it'd impossible to discuss everything. Artwork, storyboards, bloopers, models, a nude render of Lady X, an interview with Larry Kasanoff, the list goes on and it's still being updated! Despite the documentary already being out, people who worked on the movie are continuing to share new material! It's pretty incredible- for the past year I've ran this blog all I've really had to discuss are two tie-in books, and now there's so much Foodfight! material I can't even keep up with it.

I mean LOOK at all this, isn't it fantastic? The character art by Jim George showing off just how much better these designs originally were, the countless environments showing off just how stunning Marketropolis could've looked as well as the strength of the core idea "what if a supermarket came to life at night", and insanely detailed storyboards for a 7-minute pitch reel that was used to sell the movie to investors. Normally, I'd be ALL OVER this because it's all just incredible, but there's something far, FAR more fascinating than any of it.

There are even multiple drafts of the script (one from 2005 and one from 2007 respectively) and normally I'd be insanely fascinated by those too, making extremely detailed posts explaining the differences between the drafts and how they compare to the novelization, but there's something else that was found that blows ALL of this out of the water and is easily one of the most monumental lost media discoveries of ALL TIME.

That's right, a rough cut of the ENTIRE movie from 2005 has been found, containing nearly ALL the completed animation from earlier on in production. I mean, that's mindblowing right? We first got sent this around a month ago, a little while before the documentary came out, and I literally stopped everything I was doing at work to just sit and watch this. This is the closest we're ever going to get to the "original" version of Foodfight! after all- only 7 minutes of footage was ever actually made before they switched to mocap, made solely for the aforementioned pitch reel, and this workprint contains practically all of it! On top of that there are some great storyboards in here, as well as some truly hilarious ones cobbled together from 3D renders, and the plot is far better than what we ended up with, a lot of the more inappropriate jokes being absent. This rough cut is actually pretty similar to the novelization in that regard, and it also contains scenes that we'd previously only read about in there.

For example, in the novelization there's a snowmobile chase through the mountains, with Brand X soldiers on snowmobiles and a heavy avalanche close behind. This scene was completely left out of the movie itself, but in this workprint it's here! ALL the previously novelization-exclusive scenes are included, and this rough cut is seemingly based on an even earlier draft of the script than that- here Brand X are still defeated by a flood, whereas by the time of the novelization it'd been changed to a lightning storm. There are SO many exciting differences in this workprint, the snippets of original animation we get to see are SO good, and it's SO much better than the movie itself that I think it by far deserves the crown as the DEFINITIVE version of Foodfight! There's so much in it I want to discuss, that there's no way I can fit it all into this one post...so stay tuned, because in the next few days I'll be doing a FULL analysis of the 2005 workprint, pointing out all the extra brand mascots not in the finished film, and generally just gushing about how amazing it is.

I mean, this is it. Just take it all in for a second- the original footage was considered lost media for over a decade, and now it's practically been found in its entirety, embedded in an early cut of the whole movie...isn't that just phenomenal? All the mysteries have been unraveled, all the questions have been answered, and now we can relax, take a deep breath, and watch Foodfight!...the REAL Foodfight! Make sure to enjoy it, and join me next time for my analysis!

[tillichan]

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ Your life in Blue Lock for @xo-adeline ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

Being the manager of the best football team in Europe, Bastard Munchen, is not an easy task. But somehow you immediately fit into this team, becoming an inalienable part of Bastard Munchen. Even though, players may seem like they don't care about you, but that's no true! Conversely, they've a soft spot for you and value your contribution to the team. Your intimidating look is actually a secret weapon of your team you don't know about it though which helped them to make their rivals give up without a fight more than once.

Rival A: Hey, bro, look at this manager. She's planning on murdering or something like this? Rival B: She looks like she's going to kill us if we score even one goal. Bastard Munchen: What are you saying about our manager? Rivals — crap their pants, your team — pleased with themselves, meanwhile you just have no clue about all this stuff.

Usually you do the ordinary manager stuff like paperwork, maintaining the team schedule, taking care of players. But your ability to see a little things and your knowledge of psychology help Bastard Munchen to analyze their matches or their rivals. Sometimes you speak your mind without always thinking about it first during meetings. Your seniors are dissatisfied with it, but your team love your sarcastic and witty personality. And when you subtly mock seniors or team's rivals? Your team adore you! But your routine was interrupted by invitation to Blue Lock, your team as players, you as their manager assistant, because Blue Lock project needs more workers. And if you think that being a manager of Bastard Munchen is chaos, no, being a manager of Blue Lock is real chaos! Where should I start?.. Well, let's start from this part. Now you've not a team of professional football players, you've a team of professional simps-guardians, who literally growl at poor Blue Lock boys, who want to ask you for help, for example. Bastard Munchen are very proud of their manager and brag about you every. single. minute.

Kaiser: Wanna ask manager for help, Yoichi? What a pity, she is my manager! Anri in the background: But she is not only your manager...

Even Noel Noa brags about you in his composed manner! Ego didn't understand his behavior at first. But when you started speaking your mind during meetings and teasing Anri with him... Well, you're really not bad, so Ego thinks now. I'm sorry, Ego-san, this manager is already taken. Bastard Munchen are very chaotic team, you still love them. Despite their attempts to protect you from Blue Lock boys, you've a lot of friends here and carry out the duties of a manager great.

Color of your ego — Dark Blue

Falling in love with a new manager of Bastard Munchen is the last thing Michael Kaiser expected out of his life. But here you are, beautiful, smart and full of love for him. You broke the walls Michael had built around his heart over the years and showered him with love. Even though Michael hate being loved because it makes him weak, he also wants to be loved by someone, strange as it may sound.

♥ You two look so cool together! Your couple aesthetic and aura is something else! Tattoos, blue roses, similar hair colors and intimidating smug look. I bet, you're the hottest topic of discussion in the community! ♥ Michael loves that you're a sarcastic person and tend to speak your mind without always thinking about it. Your personalities suits each other, you both are witty, independent and have your own time of self-doubt. It helps you to understand each other and work on your weaknesses together. ♥ Especially Kaiser loves teasing you whenever you're falling and tripping all over the place. After he caught you, of course. ♥ Since Michael is interested in psychology, as you do, you two have a lot of deep conversations and discussions about it. He'd probably be interested in true crime too because of you. ♥ Please, take care of him in the morning. Michael wakes up in a really bad mood, but mornings are actually not that bad if you're with him~ ♥ Michael hates receiving gifts, he doesn't know how he's supposed to react. Well, if it's not your gifts. Even though, he is still bad at showing good reactions, but he is happy that you think about him.

Alexis Ness acts towards you as your older brother. You and Kaiser are the most important people in his life. Honestly, Alexis loves and protects you even more than he admires Kaiser. He thinks about you as a little sister, because he never received love and understanding from his real siblings. And as your older brother he protects you a lot! If you and Alexis come in, while Kaiser's doing his morning routine consists of standing before the mirror naked, gazing at himself while having a conversation with himself, Alexis will cover your eyes with his hands. It doesn't matter that Michael is your boyfriend. Don't worry, dear, your brother protect your heart from all jerks around you!

Noel Noa is your proud father figure. He always acts cool, but he loves you from the bottom of his heart. Your smart tactics and ideas helped Bastard Munchen more than once, not to mention that he loves that you can keep in line the behavior of the team. Every time Noa has meeting with coaches in Blue Lock, your name keeps coming up. And if Ego or another coach ask him to give you his team? No. That's impossible.

Itsuki Wakatsuki has a fattest crush on you since you first appeared in Blue Lock. The way you tease your, and not only your, team, your sarcastic and witty behavior, your strange but cute habit to do something and then just totally stop and move on, he was smitten with you! Even though your team is kinda aggressive when someone tries to approach you, Itsuki talks to you whenever he has a chance. He enjoys talking to you about football, mocking others players or sleeping on your lap, because he's always tired. The last one happened only once, because your team raised a riot.

Karasu Tabito is your best friend in Blue Lock. You're cool and smart girl, who is also witty and loves analyzing people, consider you're Tabito's favorite person in the whole Blue Lock. Karasu doesn't like receiving a present because he hates to be forced to feel happy. But somehow you've the ability to make him always feel happy not only because of little gifts but also because of little gestures which always get to the point. You two spend your time together analyzing games or players or just talking about your life. Karasu built walls around his heart. And you're the only one person who are able to tear it down.

Nagi Seishiro is one more your Blue Lock friend. You two have a lot in common! Sleeping, playing video games, reading manga, for example. You and Nagi bond over similar hobbies and got along well. You two can be found together reading manga Nagi has a lot of manga apps, so you two always can find something interesting or playing video game. Nagi would like to rest on you lap after a rough training session, but unfortunately this place is already taken. As you do, Nagi loves teasing people around in his own way. So you two have a lot of fun together, imagining Barou Maid Cafe or football players as animals.

[screamofdespair]

池田理代子 Riyoko Ikeda Interview About Oniisama E... (2016)

池田理代子 Riyoko Ikeda

Mangaka and Vocal artist, she began drawing mangas during her university studies, and her work The Rose of Versailles, serialized in 1972, became a huge success, even turning into a social phenomenon. She became highly appreciated internationally. She received the Excellence Award from the Japanese Cartoonists Association for Orpheus no Mado in 1980. The French government decorated her with the Légion d’Honneur for her contributions to spreading French history and culture in Japan.

What led to the creation of Oniisama E... ?

When the serialization of The Rose of Versailles ended, I had already decided that my next work would be a historical epic : Orpheus no Mado. But since it would take time to prepare for the historical research and start drawing it, I thought I could write something in the meantime (laughs). I feel a bit apologetic calling it just a filler, though, but actually, "Oniisama E..." was born from my own personal experiences. It’s a very important and cherished memory for me, and it just came rushing out all at once.

So, was your correspondence with the "Oniisama" also based on your own experience ?

When I was in my third year of middle school, just like Nanako, there was a preparatory course offered by university students from the University of Tokyo. I asked the graduate student who was in charge of social studies (the model for Takehiko Henmi) the same thing Nanako did: "Could you be my 'Oniisama'?" (laughs). I was deeply fascinated by the concept of an 'Oniisama" It's different from the idea of love, though. Through our letters, I learned a lot about history, religion, and various things. When I mentioned my interest in Christianity, he wrote me, "Christianity, as it is called, not only « participated » in the WW2 but was also one of its central protagonists : This is a historical truth.." I learned so much from those letters and grew a lot. I even went to the University of Tokyo’s May Festival. Actually, the "Oniisama" always had someone with him, like the omiki sake bottle. That person was the model for Takashi Ichinomiya. He was a person with a thin and delicate appearance, giving the impression of a young master from a wealthy family.

What were you like back then (during your school years) ?

I was really bad at sports, but for some reason, I was quite popular with the girls during my middle and high school years. In middle school, which was co-ed, I had good grades, had a very tanned skin, was tall, and completely lacked femininity, maybe that’s why (laughs). Even in high school, younger students would write me letters. After graduating, I found out that knowing someone like 'Ikeda-san' was really a source of pride for them.

Did you have the storyline planned out from the beginning of the serialization to the ending ?

It was more like ideas came to me as I was drawing. I don’t clearly remember if I had planned everything out until the end, but let’s say I had set certain elements in advance. For example, the idea that Kaoru and Henmi would be a couple came to me along the way (laughs). Even for The Rose of Versailles, I hadn’t decided from the start that Oscar and André would end up together. Of course, there are aspects I plan carefully, but in the end, the characters started acting on their own. And when that happens, I feel like the story is "successful."

Nanako is a very emotional girl, but also extremely determined. As for Mariko, she seems to embody the 'tsundere' archetype to some extent.

Nanako is very similar to Rosalie, isn’t she? Devoted, but in the end, she’s the strongest (laughs). For Mariko, there was a real-life model: a friend whose father wrote erotic novels. I gradually incorporated various elements from the people around me. I think many aspects are direct projections. Even the way Kaoru speaks, that’s really how we used to talk back then. We would say things like “Omae-san” (laughs). Oniisama E... reflects a lot of memories and episodes from my student life.

Oniisama E... is a short story, so its general recognition is low, but it has quite a passionate fanbase.

There are many men who tell me, "I'm a fan!". Recently, it's no longer embarrassing for men to enjoy shoujo manga. During autograph sessions, quite a few people enthusiastically tell me, "I love this work!" Some even say, "Oniisama E... is really my favorite!" When I hear that, I can't help but think, "Well, here's a true connoisseur!" (laughs). Of course, there are also many women among the fans. In that regard, I think Oniisama E... has nothing to envy from The Rose of Versailles.

And then, in 1991, it was adapted into an anime.

Actually, I was very busy at the time, so I wasn’t able to watch it properly… What left a strong impression on me, though, was how they carefully portrayed Fukiko’s feelings for Takehiko, which I hadn’t depicted in the original. I thought, "Oh, that’s so wonderful." It really fit perfectly, and there was no sense of discomfort at all.

It's a remarkable aspect of the anime adaptation. I wish I could have read it in your manga as well.

If I had a little more time, I would have liked to draw it myself. Originally, due to the planning period for Orpheus no Mado, I was rushed. Even though I still had many ideas in mind, it felt like I was forced to wrap it up (laughs).

Given what you’ve just mentioned, have you ever thought about remaking or creating a sequel to your own works?

Right now, I’m drawing a chapter for The Rose of Versailles, but... the art from that time was really bad, and I even hate re-reading it. I realize there were things I could only draw back then. When the serialization of The Rose of Versailles ended, I realized that in order to depict Europe, I would have needed much more knowledge of Christianity. That’s why, before starting Orpheus no Mado, I spent a lot of time studying Christianity. I don’t think I could have drawn the story without that knowledge. A work is the product of its time, of its era, the sensitivities, and the knowledge of the author, so remaking something seems difficult to me.

In 2017, you'll be celebrating your 50th anniversary as a writer.

I can't believe it's already been so long, and at the same time, I realize that some parts of my body are starting to hurt, which reminds me of my age (laughs). I've also been very active in music, but lately, progress has been slower. However, I truly want to cherish each passing year. For me, true happiness is living in a way that I would never regret anything, even if I were to die tomorrow. There's no reason to look back on the past. After all, it’s impossible to rewrite it. I don’t reread my works much either (laughs). I’ve lived my way, sometimes causing trouble to others, but doing what I wanted (laughs).

For this Blu-ray release, new illustrations were specially drawn.

I wasn’t satisfied with the drawings of The Rose of Versailles because I think they were awkwardly executed. Personally, I think Oniisama E... is the work where I drew the best. At that time, I was able to draw very precisely, even the lines were very clean. Over time, some works become hard to rediscover, but Oniisama E... is the one I drew almost effortlessly, simply letting the ideas flow. That’s why, even today, I can dive back into it without effort (laughs).

To those who have brought this product.

Oniisama E... is a work that originates from my own experiences, and it’s the work that I’ve let mature the longest, so I have a strong emotional connection to it. The idea for The Rose of Versailles came to me when I was in my second year of high school, which is quite early, but Oniisama E... came even before that. I would like as many people as possible to see and read it.

About Osamu Tezuka :

He wasn’t my lover, nor a relative, and calling him a friend would be too presumptuous. When I heard the news of his death, I really hit the desk and cried uncontrollably. That feeling was something I’d never experienced before, and it was the first time I felt that way about Tezuka-sensei. I truly respected him. Recently, it’s been the same with Muhammad Ali. Tezuka-sensei's Wellspring of the Crane was the first work that deeply moved me when I read it. It really squeezed my heart. I read it at a friend's house, and after returning home, I couldn’t eat, and my mother wondered if I had picked up some food off the ground. Ah, no one could understand! I remember thinking, as a child, that my sensitivity was different from others! (laughs).

Source: Oniisama E... Blu-Ray BOX SET Booklet.

Note : The translation might not be the most accurate word-for-word, but i did my best to make it coherent.

[the-twst-cast-needs-therapy]

So I really like the "what if" scenario of Idias dream of Ortho being alive.

We don't see how teen non-robot Ortho actually looks like or how he is as a person (besides being an extrovert).

I present to you a series of headcannons:

-Its unclear if the attack still happened in Idias dream. If it did, I think Ortho still has some scarring from it. It would be cool if he had a prosthetic to go along with it. Through that, the very central elements of loss and technology in Orthos character can be preserved through transformation.

-Both shroud boys are talented in programming and building stuff, but I think Idia is more promising programming while Ortho shows more talent in mechanical engineering. They sometimes help eachother out in projects and do collaborations. They'd also work together on updating his prosthetic from time to time.

-Ortho loves tinkering with blastcycles (is that how you spell it?), mechanical trinkets, and retro tech. Hes known as the handyman around the RSA campus.

-Since the Brothers attend different schools, they often meet at a burger place in town to debrief on current happenings. (When the desire comes to game together, they have to sneak eachother into their respective campuses to not cause any outrage amongst students)

-Orthos nerdy interests often revolve around social activities. He has found a recent appreciation for In person RPGs, board games and in person fan meets. His love for star rouge (among other retro games) still remains, he owns a themed puffer jacket with some cool patches on it.

-Ortho and idia wear their uniform in a similar manner, wearing their jacket instead of the blazer and some sneakers and (Styx) headphones. Ortho wears the aforementioned jacket since it is one of his most prized possessions.

-Ortho, similarly to Chenya, has friends in both NRC and in the RSA.

-Since Ortho is more extroverted, he shows significant advancements in his social development compared to his brother. Ortho still tries his best to get him out of his shell if he wants to. They practice public speaking and prepare presentations together. A big difference to cannon Ortho is that Idias dependency on him is definitely less severe, but still a problem. Idia often tends to shut himself off intentionally to not burden his brother, rarely this even leads to him (reluctantly) engaging in social activities on his own.

[ponett]

Do you have any advice for people making OCs/sonas? Yours are really well rounded and unique and I'd greatly appreciate the insight of someone who got a passion project off the ground!

So this is a very broad topic, and it varies a lot based on your own creative goals, what kind of characters you're creating, and where you want to use them. Creating an OC to be used in furry pinups is a little different than creating one for a dramatic story. But I'll try to give some general advice on how I do things for the types of characters and stories I tend to work with

Heads up: this will be kinda long lol

The germ of an idea

For me, I'll generally be inspired to create a character starting with a small number of core traits. These could be anything. A color scheme, a body type, a job, a hobby, a personality archetype, an outfit, a visual motif, a functional role in a story I'm working on, a noteworthy facial feature, a weapon, a relationship of some sort to an existing character, a single scene or joke I want to use them for. For furries and fantasy characters, species is usually one of the first things I'll have an idea for, which tends to get the ball rolling fairly easily since we have all sorts of cultural associations with different animals and fantasy creatures.

Any standout character trait like this that you find compelling can serve as that initial spark. The inspiration can come from anywhere, but it's often just a matter of knowing yourself and your own tastes. What do you like? What are the people in your life like? What really speaks to you in a character? What's an existing fictional character that you'd like to rewrite and take in a different direction? What's an aspect of yourself that you would like to see represented more often in fiction? It doesn't have to be something super deep or fleshed out right from the start, though. You can start with something as simple as "I want a black cat character" or "I want a character who dresses like an arcade carpet" or "I want a character who looks scary but is actually nice." Whatever it is, it's something that differentiates the new character from the ones I already have, because otherwise I'd just be using them.

Contrast

From there, you can start brainstorming other traits that might go with those core traits. Some of those may be traits that naturally complement each other. Continuing with the black cat example, maybe you wanna play into the common cultural perception of black cats and say that this character brings bad luck, or is associated with witchcraft. However, I often like to give characters contrasting or even seemingly contradictory traits, which can help elevate a character beyond a stock archetype. Real people tend to be a walking ball of contradictions, after all.

I've talked a lot about how I did this with the main cast of SLARPG. Melody is a fox, traditionally a crafty and untrustworthy predator, but she's extremely introverted and gentle. Allison is a bunny, but instead of being a meek and cuddly little prey animal she's an outgoing fighter who loves a challenge, and she has a muscular build. I think this kind of thing gives characters some fun flavor, and can be really effective for both comedy and drama. For an example from something I didn't write, take Senshi from Dungeon Meshi. He's a dwarf, and he embodies certain stereotypical aspects of dwarves - he's a short, buff man with a big bushy beard, he lives underground, he's stubborn and doesn't like elven magic - but he also goes against some of them. Instead of being an expert on mining and blacksmithing, Senshi is a culinary expert who has a deep appreciation for the natural ecosystem of the dungeon. He's a weirdo among dwarves for not caring about the wellbeing of his axe and for using his super awesome shield primarily as a giant wok. And that's what makes Senshi fun and interesting.

So going back to our example, instead of going with the stereotype, we could make a black cat character who has comically good luck, or who's superstitious and afraid of witchcraft, or who's an extremely rational person who always believes in science over superstition. Or maybe you roll with the bad luck angle, but instead make the black cat be the victim of their own bad luck in some interesting way. Maybe this black cat has terrible luck with love and can't hold down a relationship. Maybe this black cat is an aspiring speedrunner who consistently gets the absolute worst RNG possible in every video game due to their own bad luck. Maybe this black cat has accrued a horrendous gambling debt after a long losing streak and has loan sharks coming after them.

These are all just hypothetical examples, of course. I don't exclusively make characters with ironic contradictions like this. The idea is just to build on those core traits you started with in interesting ways, and that's one of my favorite ways to do so. But honestly, a lot of the time execution is more important than the sheer originality of an idea, and sometimes really putting your all into playing a trope you love straight is the right move.

Specificity

Regardless of what direction I take a character in past that initial seed of an idea, the key ingredient tends to be specificity. To give them specific details beyond the most stock possible version of that core idea you started with.

This is something I internalized from Tim Schafer, via a blog post in the behind-the-scenes backer material for Broken Age. Sadly I'm not sure if that stuff is still available, but I did save this particular post about creating characters since it really helped me, so I'll directly quote a chunk of that post here:

No two characters would approach a problem or react to events in the same way. At least, not if you’ve designed the characters well. If you’ve left them too vague or superficial, if they are merely functional elements in your story instead of individuals, then they might react in the same way. And that’s a problem. So to avoid that, I’m going to talk about one the most important parts of character development: specificity. Making sure your character is a specific individual, not a stereotype. A unique character, different from anyone else in the world. It doesn’t mean that they have to have wacky gimmicks, eyepatches and crazy accents. It just means they have to be specific. For example, let's create a new character. Let's say your story has a scene where your main character gets in trouble in school. So you’re probably going to need a school teacher. Imagine a school teacher for a bit. Do you see her in a little red schoolhouse? Maybe a bun in her hair? An apple on her desk? Thick black glasses? Let’s put a ruler in her hand for good measure. Done! We have our teacher character. She’s ready to be in the scene where our hero goes to school and the teacher sends her to the principal’s office for passing notes. Right? I mean, this character doesn’t have too many lines, so why develop her character any more? The problem is that this teacher is a very shallow stereotype of a teacher. She has no specific attributes that make her memorable. She’s the teacher you would get in a set of free clip art. She might not have many lines, but if all your supporting characters are this way, your story will be more bland than it should be. Even if this teacher is only onscreen for a minute, she should be unique and different from any other teacher in the world. Luckily, it's not actually that hard to make her so. You just have to ask some very basic, specific questions.

Tim goes on to explain how simple exercises like filling out character sheets with basic questions about your character (there are a million of these online) can help push a character beyond a stock archetype, even if it's a minor supporting character. Questions about where they're from, their likes and dislikes, their beliefs, their goals in life, that sort of thing. For minor characters especially, a lot of these details may never actually come up in a story, but just asking even a few of these questions and giving them specific answers helps you see them less like an archetype and more like a real person in your head. Maybe you never bring up your character's backstory or their favorite sport or what kind of music they listen to, but just having a specific answer for questions like that might help color the way you depict that character in subtle ways. It makes it feel like they aren't defined by just that one core trait you started with, and helps make the characters and world feel more alive, like there's stuff going on with them beyond the bounds of the story or the drawing.

It's a careful balancing act, though. It's easy for a character to feel like they're a collection of too many unrelated gimmicks and quirks. Again, like Tim said, these specifics don't have to make for the craziest, most original character ever, there just has to be something there.

Let's go back to SLARPG as an example, where I combined broad character archetypes I liked with more specific personal elements that I felt like I wasn't seeing enough in the fiction I liked. Melody is riffing on the common idea of the reserved healer character in the RPG or MMO party and the shy girl archetype, but she's the main hero instead of a supporting player in another person's story, and she's also a fat bisexual trans woman who draws a lot of little details from my own life. Her interests, her relationships, her opinions on things, her personal hangups and dreams, these all set Melody apart from other fantasy healer characters and define her as Melody Amaranth. Specificity!

But it doesn't always have to be super deep, especially if you just want some characters to draw for fun and aren't planning on writing a story with them. Take my fursona. I've always loved dogs, so I made my fursona a dog. I chose a Samoyed in particular because I think Samoyeds are the cutest, and I hadn't seen hardly any anthro Samoyed OCs at the time. I leaned into the breed's signature fluffiness to help my fursona stand out from other canine OCs. She has simple identifying traits like being fat like me, wearing glasses like mine, and having a hairstyle kinda like mine (when I tied my hair up in a bun, at least). And there you go. Fursona achieved. She's not a wildly high concept character, but she doesn't need to be

Anyway I realize that this is mostly about the writing aspect, so here's a few quick bullet points about designing a character's appearance:

Face and body type variety are good, but personally I would say lack of body type variety is worse than same face syndrome

Knowing some stuff about shape language is good, but you don't have to be completely beholden to the "circles are friendly, squares are sturdy, triangles are scary" shit. I'm generally more interested in using repeated shaping in different parts of a character's design as sort of a shape motif. Melody's body, hair, and tail are all made of round, swooping shapes, for example. (This is more applicable if you're designing cartoonier characters as opposed to realistic humans, obviously.)

Knowing some basics of color theory is also good. I like using complementary and contiguous color schemes on characters and generally try not to use too many distinct colors on one design. Black and white and grey and various browns are good as neutral colors to balance out the colors of the rainbow, and gold can be a nice accent color

A small handful of identifying accessories can be fun, but don't rely on those to make a design stand out. Ideally your character should still be identifiable even when not wearing their default outfit, or even in silhouette

Aaaaaand I'm gonna call it a wrap there! This is a huge topic, so hopefully this helps with at least some of the basics! At the end of the day, though, don't beat yourself up if you can't sit down and force yourself to come up with the most crazy awesome OC ever. Just have fun and be yourself!

[thezinedirective-inactive]

The Zine Directive FAQ

We will update this information periodically, but wanted to "put some words on the page" so to speak. If we missed your question, please DM us!

So, what's going on here?!

Will the zine have a theme?

Will it be explicit?

What is the timeline?

How much will the zine cost?

How can I get a copy?

How do I become a contributor/Why wasn't I asked to contribute?

I was asked to contribute, but I haven't heard anything. Should I be worried?

How else can I help/get involved?

So, what’s going on here?!

We're making a fanzine with one mission: To pay homage to those who came before us in this wonderful, timeless fandom that is Star Trek. The goal is to produce something that will be directly comparable to the fanzines of old; Typed on typewriters, printed & copied at a print shop (yes, even those pages), bound by hand, and sent to recipients in the mail. There are some aspects that may not translate to the 2020s, but we will try our best to be as authentic as possible. Luckily, we've secured involvement from several of the lovely women who were actually there making zines in the 70s, 80s, and 90s to guide us :) More on this will be announced soon!

Will the zine have a theme?

Not exactly, but it will exclusively feature Star Trek: The Original Series (+ films). This is not done to exclude AOS, SNW, or other Treks, but rather to celebrate the one that started it all. However, it will be a K/S slash zine (mcspirk also welcome!) so if you're not into seeing Kirk and Spock smooch, this one might not be for you ;)

Will it be explicit?

Yes :) How explicit will depend entirely on our artists and authors. Purchase age will be strictly 18+.

What is the timeline?

The 60th anniversary of Star Trek is September 8th, 2026. So while the official release is TBD, it will be around this time. Fics (and other writing, like poetry) will need to be finished earlier than artwork so we have time to organize companion illos. We also need ample time to type everything by hand on our typewriters, leaving room for broken equipment and/or user error (both of which are equally likely to happen). We expect assembly to take several months since us editors are doing this for the first time and also have jobs/families/school to think about. Once we have a more concrete timeline, that will be shared directly with our contributors to include deadlines and check-ins.

How much will the zine cost?

To be perfectly clear, this project is 100% nonprofit. That is very important to us not just for legal reasons, but moral ones. This means the cost of the zine will not exceed what was put into the materials, assembly, postage, etc. Similarly sized zines in 1970 were in the range of $3-$5, which is about $25-$40 today. We will do everything in our power to keep the price as low as we possibly can.

How can I get a copy?

We will make several announcements leading up to sign ups. As of right now, it is very likely we will have to limit the zine to < 200 copies. After some time has passed we will release it digitally, so don't fret if you're not able to get your hands on one! If there’s enough interest we may also do a second publication :)

How do I become a contributor/Why wasn't I asked to contribute?

As of right now, we do not have an open submission process. We would love to include EVERY piece of art, but with a physical zine we are limited by physical space, so we will have to be more discerning than we might like. As time goes on and the table of contents is decided we will announce more opportunities to contribute, so follow the blog to be aware of those! You can always feel free to DM us if you're interested, but we can't guarantee there will be room for everyone who does this. If your idea doesn't fit exactly, we'll try our best to find a way for you to be a part of it.

I was asked to contribute, but I haven't heard anything. Should I be worried?

No!!! We are working diligently to get everything set up, we promise. We have not forgotten about you <3 Kat (spirk-trek) is dealing with difficulties on Tumblr at the moment, in that she's unable to send or receive messages. If you're trying to get ahold of her please do so through this blog or on discord (katruyck) until further notice.

How else can I help/get involved?

First of all, thank you for asking. This kind of question really warms our hearts! If we decide to take donations of any kind, we will share that further down the line. This would be to cover costs only, and any excess would be donated to fanlore or other archival efforts. We won't do this if we don't have to, and would really rather not. If you're interested in taking a more involved position in the process, please message us about becoming a mod, especially if you're good with discord, have experience making physical zines, have a working typewriter, or are really passionate about fanzine history like we are!

Thank you for reading, and for being here at the start of our journey :)

[heavycreamy]

Hey Matt Gazy

This post is for Australian Journalist Matt Gazy.

Apparently you've been contacting members of our feedism/erotic weight gain community in order to discuss our very multifaceted, heavily misrepresented lifestyle.

As someone who has been in this community for 3 decades, has seen most if not all of its forms, understands the ethical connections between Feedism and Fat Liberation, and deeply cares about how folks in our community are represented to the general vanilla public, I hope that you are entering into this project/article/episode with the necessary due respect, empathy, intelligence, and kindness that you would bring to ANY oft-misunderstood and ridiculed subculture.

No one needs another sensationalist piece of journalism wilfully and lazily misrepresentating our community, sexuality, and lifestyle, which only EVER serves to further stigmatise and shame us.

We have been taken advantage of on many occasions, cast as freaks and pathetic fools with mental problems, so neither we nor the general public need more of that.

EVERY time a piece about feedism appears in the public eye, our community experiences a massive wave of trolls and judgemental, deeply fatphobic tourists coming into our online spaces and abusing us.

Please don't debase us nor yourself by making a surface level hit-piece on our community, whether intentionally or unintentionally, due to a lack of thorough research and basic respect for perspectives and life experiences outside the norm.

Feedism is INFINITELY more than simply heteronormative power play. That corner of the community represents less than 10% of what actual contemporary Feedism culture is, and ironically harbours 90% of the toxicity present in the entire culture.

Feedism is so much more than heteronormative, coercive power play. It is extremely queer, extremely feminist, extremely sensual and emotional, and is a major facet of many people's lives and psychologies.

While it may seem like simply a niche genre of porn to the casual tourist, Feedism exists outside of porn. It exists outside of kink. It exists outside of fetish. It can and should be considered an orientation, rather than simply a freaky outlier bedroom interest worthy only of reactive disgust.

Please don't be yet another unscrupulous journalist exploiting our incredibly vulnerable community for shock bait bullshit.

If you're going to try to represent us, do it comprehensively, and do it PROPERLY.

Truly speak to us. Do the work. Don't just find an extremely popular female model and falsely imagine that her experience is a stand in for ALL Feedist experiences.

If you truly want to represent Feedism, you NEED to represent it as the complex, multifaceted diaspora that it is, full of people of all kinds, all cultures, and ALL SIZES.

Should you be committed to pursuing this topic, I can offer links and connections to extremely well informed writers, thinkers, professors, and others within this community who are doing INCREDIBLE work on understanding, exploring, and expressing the deeper truths of this desire and lifestyle. There are people doing the work. You need to do it too.

We're humans. Treat us with respect, dignity, and kind curiosity.

Be better than every journalist who has come before you.

Thank you.

ps. Dear feedist pals, if you feel that what I've said here resonates with you, and mirrors your feelings at all, please feel free to reblog the shit out of this in the hopes that more visibility may help it reach its intended audience. Thanks gang ♥️🍰🍕

[lizardanya]

this is a public service announcement to all revali fans: i invite you to join my campaign for the belief that mipha and revali are like, besties. there is no textual evidence to support this however i would like to dedicate the rest of this post to basically form a manifesto for this dynamic.

first it's important to acknowledge that botw and all champion related materials are kind of underbaked and don't elaborate on possibly any idea related to the champions enough to create Analyzable Depth, so when talking about these characters there's always an element of identifying either potential/setup for these characters and kind of trying to extend this. engaging with these characters kind of inherently means doing, in at least some part, the job of the writer and low key Making Shit Up. i acknowledge this and also embrace it and i suggest you do too.

so, mipha and revali: they are low key parallels, or at least play parallel roles to each other. the champions could be 'divided' into whether they relate more to zelda or link, and coincidentally link gets the boys and zelda gets the girls. daruk and urbosa are the older figures who take on a low key parental role to link and zelda respectively. daruk hangs out with link and gets him to loosen up a bit (source: his dlc diary) and urbosa is the one who cares for zelda and understands her deal the most (source: every single time urbosa is on screen). revali and mipha are, then, the peer character meant to 'challenge' link and zelda respectively.

revali challenges link's status as 'the chosen one', whether he really deserves this title and status etc by being the only champion with no inherent authority who had to work his ass off for any status he does have. mipha challenges zelda's role as a princess, by being also a princess with special powers who's practically perfect at everything zelda sucks at (being good at her power, getting along with link, having a loving family, having her people have complete faith in her, being mourned extensively after her death etc). revali and mipha further foil each other: revali is the most Outraged by the entire situation, whereas mipha is the most complacent. revali bases a lot of his beliefs about the situation largely on misunderstanding and projection, whereas mipha possibly has the most understanding about everything (about her entire role in this, about how special princess powers work, about link and generally the people involved). having these two characters interact and like, talk about things is inherently an interesting concept because of this.

furthermore, i believe they could bring out sides in each other that are largely unseen in most contexts. mipha is generally quite passive and quiet, despite having the most understanding she doesn't proactively voice it nor tries to actively 'enlighten' anyone. the one time she does try the apocalypse happens and even then she isn't like 'ok we are on borrowed time zelda lets debrief u need to unlock ur powers stat' shes just kind of like oh ok. guess the Very Important Conversation That Could Solve Everything has to wait. revali, on the other hand, doesn't shut the fuck up, and never even considers that he's wrong or working off of wrong premises. despite this, both of them have sides to them that are not like this: revali acts like a pompous asshole, but from his dlc scene and journal we can infer he has a bunch of underlying insecurities and also does Genuinely Care. and mipha, again from her dlc scene, has some older sister snark that comes out when she interacts with sidon, she's actually willing to be proactive with him and not overly coddle him.

with mipha's whole thing as the understander i think she'd be able to catch onto revali's shit almost immediately and see through his facade. at the same time she's not the type of character to actively try and fix him, i actually think she'd express her understanding in a kind of cheeky, snarky way, 'match his energy' so to speak, because she knows that's something that would actually ruffle some feathers (heh) and get revali out of his comfort zone. for revali, on the other hand, i think it'd be a very disarming experience to be actually called on his bullshit by a peer who seems to actually get him and not buy his whole pompous asshole thing. i also think he'd kind of project his own feelings of being upstaged by Some Guy onto mipha, an actually competent princess who also has to step back just because she's from the wrong royal family. their kind of opposite personalities and perspectives are able to complement each other, coming together to a perfect equilibrium of 'yes there are things that are very unfair about this but there are reasons for the way things are and we kind of have to accept that'. it is kind of beneficial for both of them to hear about/engage with the others' perspective.

a quick aside bc i know a bunch of you are revalink fans: the dynamic of revali and link one sided rivalry meanwhile mipha is great friends with both of them is really funny, and also opens a door for revali to develop a better understanding of link and give him a chance. i don't go here i am a miphzel girlie however this is something to consider.

now: would they actually like each other? the answer for mipha is simple because like, i think she just kind of likes everyone. for revali it's a little more interesting and i think it's important to bring up the way he views zelda: he talks about it in his diary, but basically there is an element of him looking down on her there's also a distinct sense of pity ("It's not that I dislike the Princess. She tries her hardest. It's simply not good enough"). there are a few reasons for why there's a pity present where it is not for link, part of it is pretty much explicitly stated with how he views zelda as earnest meanwhile link as emotionless. i, being me, read botw as a very deliberately gendered story and will assert that in my reading, part of the reason why he has a distinct rivalry with link and does not with zelda is because link is also male.

part of it is because the roles of the hero and the princess are inherently gendered, and revali wants the role of the hero, the role he thinks is being taken away from him. he understands the role of the hero as the main fighter, which is what he wants to be, and he doesn't have the same interest in whatever role the princess plays in defeating ganon. part of it is the fact that revali is a teenage boy, and link is also a teenage boy. the way he provokes him and tries to enter an adversarial relationship with him reads to me as like, the kind of bickering you do with specifically a peer you view as a challenger, in this case the role they're both aiming for is the 'knight', in the case of link literally, and in the case of revali more symbolically, as the top archer and 'protector' of his village.

now this is where we veer off into the 'Making Shit Up' part of analyzing botw champions, namely there's a lot of interpretations one could come up with using the implications of this aspect of his character, to name a few: he potentially does still hold a kind of respect for the authority of royalty, namely princesses; he is a feminist; my personal favorite: he has some aspects of toxic masculinity making him pursue rivalry with other men, while not viewing women as rivals in the same way. either way, one think is clear: he doesn't react to princesses with the same antagonism he does to knights.

so, what we have here: he values 1. competence 2. sincerity 3. people who cannot rival him for his status or any status he wants. mipha checks all three.

furthermore, now that we have established that revali is a kind of 'knight', and mipha is a princess, and they both foil link and zelda respectively, they are, like link and zelda, a knight and princess pair, ergo their potential friendship is in itself a foil to link and zelda. with link and zelda, we have a very complacent, passive knight and a princess with a propensity for projection who is very vocally not happy with the situation. and with revali and mipha, we have a knight with a propensity for projection who is very vocally not happy with the situation and a very complacent, passive princess. the first pair's dynamic leads to conflict between the two of them, and who survive despite their incompetence. the second pair's dynamic, in my pitch, leads to closeness and friendship, and who die despite their competence. Are You Seeing This.

so yeah. i have mostly focused on their synergy and narrative foilage instead of the specifics of their potential dynamic, although i do have opinions on that too, however i have omitted those largely bc of what i have discussed in paragraph one. this is not a pitch for you to subscribe to my personal interpretations of these character's personalities, it is a pitch for you to make them interact. more.

TL;DR: the potential dynamic between revali and mipha is scrumptious because they're literally foils to each other and to link and zelda and we should all be exploring it more