#i would love more than anything to go see it if only for the strobing during the duel.....

[turigirl]

ohhhh great comet....

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: Party Time [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: Party Time [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: Mahito just wants you to have a nice Halloween.

For Horrorfest request: Mahito putting his darling through a House of Horrors.

Word count: 2823

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, body horror and gore, Mahito is his own warning here

Maybe it said something about your inherent ghoulishness that, when Mahito granted you the rare favor of allowing you to pick an activity to do outside the damp tunnel where he kept you, you chose this--going to a haunted house. 

A cheap one, too. One of those kinds that was retrofitted into an existing building during October and then packed out like a cheap weekend carnival on November 1st. The kind that ignored safety violations and tended to hire teenagers who showed up high or drunk or both. 

It was more cheesy than anything else. A series of dimmed rooms with strobe lights and spiderwebs, or people jumping out in mediocre costumes or revving up fake chainsaws. No, it wasn’t really scary… but to be fair, your definition of “really scary” had been completely upended the moment that you were kidnapped by a curse with a penchant for torturing people in ways you never thought possible before. 

But it was still a tradition, damn it, and if you couldn’t get through October without at least one Halloween tradition under your belt, you might just lose your mind. Or what was left of it, considering your circumstances.

Still, did Mahito have to be a spoilsport about it? He’d been grinning at the start, one arm slung around your shoulder, even though no one else could see him. By the time you’d gotten to the third room, he was pouting. Complaining. Whining. 

And now, at the end, as you walk out following one last jump scare involving an oversized doll costume, he’s rambling on and on about how these humans were terribly uncreative in their creation of a supposedly haunted house. Like you were just walking through the park and not a poorly lit room blasting spooky ambiance music as some tired teens tried to make you shriek. 

“I know humans are capable of better than this,” he muses, sourly, as you make your way out of the parking lot and back onto the side streets that will eventually lead you “home.” Not your home, never your home. But the only home you’ve known since he took you, and it’s better to consider it something familiar than to fully face the reality of your situation without a gloss of comfort.

“It wasn’t that bad,” you say, lightly, blandly. “I think you’re being too harsh.”

Mahito sighs, and pulls you closer. To anyone on the street without the gift of sight, you might look a bit drunk. Stumbling now and then, leaning into nothing at all. Mahito likes this, you think, and that’s why he does it all the time on the very rare occasions that you’re allowed out.

“But I’m not wrong!” You glance at him. The almost childish expression of disappointment is stomach-turning. “You didn’t even flinch or scream or anything fun. You weren’t scared.”

You start to answer, then stop. He’s right. A year ago you probably would have shrieked yourself silly, as simple and ridiculous as the haunted house was; but that was a year ago. That was before. 

“I’m… not scared of much any more.” Your words come out slow and carefully considered. It’s a habit ingrained in you by now. Mahito did love to take your words and run with them.

“Oh?” Mahito turns his head to look at you, and you catch the last moment of a grin that he pastes over with a solemn expression as soon as he sees you looking.  

“Poor thing,” is all he says. 

You don’t talk much on your way home after that.

--

“Mahito--”

“I promise, this will be fun!”

“Mahito--”

“Don’t worry so much, you’ll get wrinkles! Not that I’d mind, but I read this book from the 1980s on beauty perception and--”

“Mahito!”

Mahito pouts, puffing his cheeks out ridiculously. When he doesn’t say anything, you sit up straighter.

“I’m just saying this isn’t necessary.” You keep your tone gentle, sweet. You don’t want him to accuse you of being ungrateful again. The last time he did that--the less said, the better. “I already got my Halloween fix at the haunted house, really. And we watched a horror movie the other day, didn’t we? And you got me a book…” 

Your hand gestures ineffectually towards your nest of blankets, where a battered copy of Stephen King’s Pet Sematary lay. Mahito found it in a box of books someone threw on the curb and proudly brought it to you, like a cat bringing a dead sparrow to its owner.

Mahito’s expression turns sticky, and his voice coos to match. “Ohh, you’re being so sweet, pet! But I want to do this for you. Since you like Halloween!” He resumes setting out a small collection of large bowls, most with mismatched lids, humming a song you don’t know all the while. “I worked really hard on this, you know!”

“I…” You start to protest, but it doesn’t get far. There was never any use arguing with Mahito or even reasoning with him on most things. Curses did not have the same reason as human beings. That much you knew by now.

So you sit obediently on the ground in front of the beat-up coffee table he dragged in here not so long ago--for this very purpose, maybe?--and try to calm the writhing ball in your stomach.

“Where did you get this idea, anyway?” You ask. Your voice shakes a little, from the cold or worry,  you don’t know. 

Mahito hums, setting down what must be the last bowl and surveying his work. “I read it in a magazine of Halloween party ideas! Some of them look pretty fun. Bobbing for apples…” He looks up at you with an almost hungry smile. “Your hands have to be tied behind your back for that one. Humans sure get kinky on Halloween, don’t they?” 

Your cheeks heat up horribly but you don’t answer. It’s smarter not to indulge Mahito in any questions related remotely to sex. 

The line of bowls on the table looks like something out of a sad potluck. You wonder why he picked this idea, or anything in a book about Halloween parties.

You recognized the idea at once. It was one of those old fashioned party games where the host put food in bowls and told everyone it was something gross, like brains or eyeballs. You remember playing this game only once in your life as a child, and everyone thought it was dumb and boring even then.

Well, it was probably the easiest to do with only two of you; you’re grateful, anyway, that he decided not to go for apple bobbing, if what drew him to it was the rope.

“One final touch!” He practically skips over to you and holds out a ragged strip of black fabric. A blindfold. 

Oh, no. Nope, nope and nope. 

“Um, can’t we just turn off the lights?” There were a few flickering bulbs built into the walls--for service workers, you think, back when this tunnel was actually serviced--and Mahito kept a few battery powered lanterns around that he threw out and replaced whenever the batteries died. 

A pout. A shift on his legs, a hand on his hips.

“It’s more fun this way. Ugh, don’t be so boring…”

Ah, boring. The most dangerous word in Mahito’s vocabulary. And you aren’t being sarcastic when you think that, which is why you sigh and blow cool air out your mouth and nod at him. 

He giggles, and scampers behind you with the blindfold in tow.

“This is going to be so fun,” he says, practically trilling as he ties the blindfold around your eyes. The darkness is quick and artificial and awful. “Have you played it before?”

You hum something like assent. “Just once, when I was little.” 

Mahito presses a kiss to the top of your head and you fight the urge to squirm.

“If you don’t remember the rules, it’s like this: I put your hands in each bowl, and you tell me what you think it is!” 

Your heart begins to speed up, no matter how much you try to tell yourself to remain calm. It was just a blindfold, no big deal. It was just a stupid Halloween party game, no big deal.

It was just Mahito… well, uh, wait a minute. It was Mahito. You were right to worry. 

But you’re trying very, very hard not to--and that was as close as you’d get to remaining calm tonight.

You hear the sound of the various tops being pulled off the bowls, accompanied by little grunts and noises as Mahito perhaps struggled with the lids. 

Someone takes your hands--you jump, and Mahito laughs--and guides them to the edge of the bowl.

Something squishy and a little stiff. Wet, but only vaguely. Round, like bouncy balls. But they feel more organic than that. 

“Grapes,” you say. “They’re grapes.”

Mahito makes a choking sound. Did he not think you knew the tricks of the game? Maybe the first people to play the game decades and decades ago were caught unawares, but the answers were common knowledge by now. Grapes for eyeballs, spaghetti for intestines; some people got creative and made fake brains and stuff, too. 

He pulls your hands out of the bowl and sets them on the next.

Your hands plunge in and find not quite what you expected, but close enough. Instead of strings of spaghetti noodles, Mahito has chosen sausages. You suppose that was more realistic when it came to feel and size, anyway. They weren’t cold exactly, but that was nothing new--there was no fridge around here. 

“Sausages.” When he doesn’t respond. “Like, a whole row of them.” 

Mahito huffs. 

He’s such a spoilsport, you think. Maybe you ought to start guessing around to appease him. Or would he catch on that you were lying and get more annoyed at you treating him like glass? Or would that make him feel good? It was so, so hard to tell what you were meant to do sometimes. 

But he does take your hands, now a little slimy with cooking water, and set them on the next bowl.

This one is… a little different from the rest, and you couldn’t quite place it. It was soft, smooth, but almost sponge-like in texture. Like a gummy or…

”Gelatin?” You’re not quite sure for this one, and it comes through in your tone. Still, your fingers squish the mystery item. “Like, an organ?” You remembered once cooking beef liver for your dad and it had the same gummy, gelatin-like feel before it was cooked. Unpleasant and odd to touch, for sure. You didn't know if it tasted good.

“Yes!” Mahito sighs out the word, and at least he’s no longer acting like a pouty child when you guess right. It makes the ball in your stomach shrink down, just a little. Even if you’re still waiting for something to happen. Maybe he’ll try to jump scare you at the end or something. 

The next bowl is liquid, and you almost jerk your fingers back out by instinct. It couldn’t be water, it wasn’t thin enough. There is even a slight smell to it, almost artificial--red dye. Mahito would dye the fake blood red just to make it more authentic, wouldn’t he? 

“A smoothie, maybe? Or whole milk, or cream…” 

If Mahito cares that you didn’t give a singular answer, he doesn’t let you know. He only lets out a pouty whine and you wonder which of your three guesses was right. 

“Last bowl,” he says, before placing your hands on the edge of the plastic container. 

What in the world?

When you put your hands inside, your fingers are immediately met with a multitude of small, firm… somethings. Your fingers fiddle with one of them, feeling over the grooves. Wood, maybe? Figurines? You’re reminded, suddenly, of when cereal used to come with toys in the box. But you very much doubt Mahito collected a few dozen old cereal figurines. 

“I’m not sure,” you admit. “Really big wood chips? Figurines?” 

There’s a few moments of unusually heavy silence, and then Mahito whines. Whines! 

“You’re awful at this game. You only guessed one of them right! I thought you’d be better at it, since you’re into this human holiday…” 

Huh?

You scoff, though you’re not offended. Just confused. And tired. And wary. Nothing new there, when you think about it.

“What do you mean? The only one I wasn’t sure about was this last one… maybe the one before it, but it’s hard to tell the difference between milk and cream or whatever.”

You feel the presence of Mahito leaning over the table, feel his fingers fiddling with the back of your blindfold, and blink as the artificial blackness drops away to reveal Mahito sitting in front of you with a pouty look on his face. 

And then you look down at the mystery bowl, your hands still resting inside, and bile immediately rises into your throat when you realize two hideous truths:

One. The bowl is filled with transfigured humans. Small distorted shapes of horror. A whole bowl of them, piled high, like a candy dish on granda’s counter.

Two. Your hands are red. Not just red, but red with slick, thick gore. Blood. There was no mistaking the feel of it. The second-to-last bowl is filled halfway with blood. Real blood. Human blood.

Your neck turns slowly, like you’re a broken, mechanical doll that can’t quite complete the movement. The acidic bile in your throat reaches your mouth and you swallow, swallow, swallow. But all you can do is cough and hope the real vomit stays down. 

It shouldn’t surprise you, what you see. But somehow your stupid self thought he was playing a party game, a copycat out of one of his magazines. 

The bowls are not filled with peeled grapes and sausages and blobs of gelatin.

The bowls are filled with eyeballs of all different colors, most of them still trailing red optic nerves like tails; with strings of intestines, thick and slimy and pale; with livers in varying shades of brown and red. 

“Oh,” Mahito says, perking up, when he catches you looking at the bowl of livers. “I wanted to show you, look at this one!” He grabs one of the livers and holds it up for you to see. “He had some kind of disease, I think… see the funny lumps?”

You’re only aware that your body is shaking when your neck jerks and twinges in pain. 

“What the fuck,” you mutter. “What the fuck.” 

Mahito quirks his head. You hate that you know the confusion on his face is real. He really is curious about everything, all the time. Especially human thoughts and feelings and behaviors. A mad scientist if there ever was one; but at least a mad scientist had some sort of lofty, if fucked up, end goal. Mahito just was. 

“What’s the matter?” He scoots on his butt around the table, not stopping until he’s sitting next to you. You don’t fight--you can’t--when he takes your hands and holds them. He doesn’t mind the gore being smeared on his own fingers, you’re sure.

You feel like your eyebrows would fly off your head if they could.

“What’s the matter? What’s the--you… you used real human body parts--real people--for this game. That’s what’s the matter! Christ--”

Mahito’s eyebrows furrow.

“But that’s the game! You put all sorts of creepy things in bowls and people guess what it is.” He squeezes your hands. “Are you sure you aren’t just a sore loser because you stink at guessing?” 

How many people are in that bowl, anyway? The thought comes and goes; it would be like playing some fucked up game of “guess how many beans are in the jar!” Only there is no knick-knack prize if you guess right. Just a solid number to the bowl of horrors sitting only inches away from you.

How many were there, how old are they, do they have family, did it hurt, did they scream--

Your lips are dry when you lick them and speak, voice shell shocked and dull. “It’s a party game. You’re supposed to use things like, like--peeled grapes for eyeballs or spaghetti for intestines. It’s a dumb party game because it’s silly and no one is really freaked out by that if they’re older than 7 years old.” 

The game isn’t meant to end with you realizing that you’d been feeling up the organs of murdered people, is what you should say. But you’re not sure Mahito would recognize that for the rebuke that it is. 

“Ohh,” he says, and you can see it all clicking into place in his mind. After a few beats, he grins with pride. “Well, my version is an improvement.”

You must look incredulous again, because he continues. “See, my version is more fitting ” He nods to himself. “I’m much better at Halloween than humans.”

For once, you can’t disagree--not even in your own thoughts.

His version is really scarier than the original

[cieloclercs]

grace , send me a trope + a character and i’ll write a short drabble from it

hii, can i please request best friends to lovers with ollie?

congrats on 1k btwww 🫶🫶

call me cupid — ollie bearman

pairing. ollie bearman x best friend!reader

word count. 2.7k (i swear i tried to make it short lmao)

warnings. kind of a weird fusion of fluff and angst ??? unrequited love vibes (that’s not actually unrequited but u get what i mean), pining ollie, pining reader, arthur lowkey is the mastermind, and is also sick of said pining, abrupt ending i’m sorry 😭

author’s note. hello anon! thank you so much for your request ☺️ i hope this is ok ! i know it cuts off quite abruptly, but i’d be open to writing a part 2 with the confession if you want one <3

read below the cut

He’s staring again.

It’s becoming a problem, but can anyone really blame him? You look nothing short of angelic under the strobe lights, your shimmering dress catching his eye every time you move. You’re dancing with a girl he doesn’t recognise, that beautiful smile he adores stretched across your crimson-painted lips. It makes him wonder what she’s saying to you to make you seem so content.

Best friends shouldn’t look at each other the way he’s looking at you now. Ollie knows that. Yet on days like today, he really can’t help it. This is your party, celebrating your third Formula 2 victory in a row. He’d watched from way back in P5 as you stormed through the field, fighting off every challenge your opponents tried to throw your way. There’s a reason the fans call you the Queen of Formula 2, after all. You’re practically untouchable. All it does is heighten his awareness of his own pounding heart whenever you’re around; turn his insides to velvet when you so much as smile his way. Yes, it’s becoming a problem — and Ollie isn’t sure there’s anything he can do to stop it.

“You know, I’ve just thought of something you should try.” A voice speaks up to his left, breaking him out of whatever trance you’ve unwittingly put him under. He turns. Arthur Leclerc stands like the devil on his shoulder, arms folded, expression unimpressed. When Ollie says nothing, he goes on, “It’s called talking to her. Works wonders, really, I’d highly recommend. It’s how I met Carla.”

The younger of the two rolls his eyes. Arthur is the only other living soul on earth who knows about his infatuation with you — officially, at least. In reality, almost everyone in the Ferrari Academy has long since figured it out. Everyone except you, ironically. But Ollie supposes it makes sense; why would someone like you ever even consider him as something more than just a friend?

“Can we not do this tonight?” Ollie sighs, exasperated, “I’m just trying to forget about…all of that for a moment.”

This time it’s Arthur who rolls his eyes. Ever since he first caught on to his friend’s crush on you a little over eight months ago, he’s been trying every method under the sun to try and make him see that maybe, just maybe, he shouldn’t be so pessimistic about his chances. But the answer is always the same. Ollie remains convinced, like some poor, naïve, completely oblivious child, that you’d never so much as give him a second glance if he told you how he felt. It’s complete bullshit, of course. Arthur has seen the way your eyes search immediately for his after a race, be it a good result or even a bad one. He’s watched you brush off close friends (including him, many a time) even family members, to get to Ollie. But of course, Ollie himself doesn’t notice. No fool in love ever does.

“You’re not going to forget though, are you?” Arthur muses, glancing at his friend out of the corner of his eye, “I know you, and I know you can’t stay away from her for that long. You’ll cave eventually.” he smirks. At the sight of Ollie’s pink cheeks, he knows he’s caught him out.

“Why don’t you go annoy someone else for a change?” the Brit grumbles. There’s the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. Arthur could pick it out even in the pitch dark.

“Don’t pretend you don’t love me.” he teases.

Within moments he’s cowered behind Carla on the other side of the room, chased away by Ollie’s (half joking) threats to crash him out of the next race on purpose if he doesn’t shut his mouth. But Arthur’s words stick with him throughout the entire night. Somehow, they always do.

In truth, Ollie's been grappling with the idea of telling you for quite a while; to put him out of his own misery more than anything else. He's sick and tired of the 'best friends' label. It seems so trivial, so reductive to say that it hurts him, when in fact, every time you refer to him as such, he’s sure you must be ripping his heart out of his chest. But then he can’t help but feel melodramatic — at least he has you, even if only as a friend. Even if you don’t love him in the way he loves you, you’re still there. Close, though perhaps not quite close enough. Ollie has decided not to take that for granted. He knows how easily it can be snatched away from him.

In the end (just as he always seems to be) Arthur is right — it’s not even an hour before he finds himself gravitating towards you; unwittingly being pulled into your orbit from which he fears, if he’s not careful, he’ll never be able to escape. You’re hovering on the edge of a group of engineers now, sipping on a glass of sparkling water out of a straw. How you can appear drop dead gorgeous yet so damn adorable at the same time, he has no idea. Ollie feels he’ll be spending the rest of his life trying to figure you and your many layers out.

“Hi, Ol.” you greet him with a smile like the sun when he finally plucks up the courage to approach. He mutters something in reply, though as soon as the words have left his mouth he’s already forgotten them — he could have said something completely unintelligible for all he knows. That’s the effect you have on him.

“Having fun?” you prompt again, your soft smile spreading into a full-blown grin. Ollie glances briefly around the room. It’s absolutely packed full of Ferrari Academy members, both drivers and personnel. Normally, this kind of event would be his worst nightmare. Even if he’s known these people for years, the idea of having to socialise and look like he’s having fun makes him feel sick. But then he remembers all this is for you. It’s to celebrate your achievements in a male dominated field, which no woman has ever managed to do before. When he reminds himself of that, all his anxiety suddenly seems to melt away.

“Of course.” Ollie grins back. His heart soars to see you light up at his words, to see you giggle behind the rim of your glass and look at him as if he’s the only person in the world. At times like this he can truly believe that maybe Arthur is right — maybe, if he confesses, his world won’t come crashing down. Maybe you’ll light it up for the better.

“What happened to you at turn one? Nic told me you dropped out of the points." you go on, eyebrows furrowing with the remnants of confusion. Ollie had begun the feature race in P2 behind you, yet you'd find that the competition you'd so anticipated disappeared not even before the first lap had ended. The Brit sighs, shaking his head.

"I collided with Jack trying to defend." he tells you with a wince, "Damaged my sidepods."

Your expression twists into one of sympathy. There's almost no coming back from that, even for a driver as talented as Ollie. Still, you think, to climb back up to P5 after sustaining damage like that is no mean feat. You don't miss the way he flushes bashfully when you tell him as such.

"It was my own fault." he mumbles, trying desperately to cool the flames in his cheeks as you watch him, eyebrows raised. He always feels like he's been put under a microscope when you look at him like this. There's no escaping the calculation in your stare, the curious scrutiny. "I took too much of a risk."

You shake your head. There's the tiniest of knowing smiles on your lips. Ollie is always so hard on himself. It's something you both admire him for, and find yourself exasperated with; he never seems to be able to see how brilliant he really is -- or at least, how brilliant he is in your eyes.

"Well, whoever was at fault, it's a real shame." you dismiss with a wave of your hand, "I miss sharing the podium with you."

Ollie is sure he must be melting. He can't figure out if it's from your words alone, or from the tiny pout that's fallen on your lips, or even the soft glint in your eyes as you gaze up at him. Suddenly the proximity between the two of you seems to have all but diminished. He chuckles nervously.

"Next race will be ours." the Brit murmurs. Little by little you inch closer to him, your hand resting on the ledge you're leaning on, just ghosting over where his own lays flat. He breathes in sharply.

"Promise?" you whisper. The point of your heel bumps against his foot. Ollie glances down at it in a panic, before his head snaps up to meet your piercing gaze. He fears that if he rocks forwards only the slightest bit on the balls of his feet, he'll be close enough for his nose to bump yours. He's never felt so consumed, so intoxicated by another person in all his life. He can smell the honey scent of your hair, feel your warm breath tickling his cheek. His gaze flickers down for the briefest of moments to your lips - soft and pink, parted as if there's something else you want to say, but the words have gotten trapped in your throat.

"I promise." Ollie croaks.

Just one more step, you think. One more step, and he'll kiss you. He's so close, closer than he's ever been before, and suddenly you can see everything falling into place: all the nights spent crying on Arthur's shoulder, wondering whether Ollie is truly just scared as your friend says he is, or whether he simply doesn't feel the same. It will all fade into a distant, long-abandoned memory. Finally, you'll be able to call him something more than just your best friend.

But then he steps away.

You flinch, taken aback at his sudden movement. Ollie stares at you, wide-eyed, breathing heavily as if he's just run a marathon. He can't believe what's just happened — can't believe he was about to kiss you. How could he be so stupid?

"I —" he stammers. The look on your face is hard to decipher: shocked, confused, hurt. If Ollie looked a bit closer, he'd be able to see the last of those emotions, or the way your shock is mixed with a horrible sinking feeling of disappointment. But, of course, he doesn't see it that way. He's stuck on the same, poisonous idea that's been plaguing his mind ever since he first figured out his feelings — you don't feel the same way.

"I'm sorry." Ollie gasps. Then, without another word, he turns on his heel and runs, leaving you stood alone, arms half outstretched as if to try and stop him. You're too late, of course. Within moments he's out of sight. Gone, just like your hope.

"Well that was a train wreck." a familiar voice speaks up from somewhere on your left. You spin around, groaning as you spot Arthur, arms folded, eyebrows furrowed in what you can only imagine is frustration.

"You don't say." you drawl bitterly, glaring down into your empty glass. Wordlessly, your friend passes you his own half-full one. You lean down to sniff at its contents, and pull away, nose scrunched in distaste — definitely not water. But you think, at this point, you're owed some kind of distraction.

"Why does he keep running away from me?" you grumble. It's been months of this cat and mouse game now. Tonight is the closest you've ever got; the first time you've seen with your own eyes that Ollie does reciprocate your feelings. Yet it feels like for that step forward, all you've gone and done is taken another two back.

"Because he's an idiot." Arthur answers plainly. The Monégasque watches as you take a gulp of his drink, pulling a face at the burn in your throat, and wordlessly reaches forwards to take the glass back from your hands. He's grateful that you don't complain.

"Well I wish he'd stop." you mutter. As much as you're willing to wait for Ollie for as long as he needs, it's painful, having to go on loving him from a distance like this. Every time you lock eyes, the longing grows more intense. You're not sure how much longer you can take it.

"You know, you're just as bad as he is." Arthur speaks up. Once again, your head snaps towards him, eyes narrowing.

"What?"

"You heard me." the Monégasque says with a sigh, "Look, I want to help you, I really do, but you could make all of this so much easier for yourself if you just tell him how you feel."

And there it is. You can’t help but let out a bitter chuckle. It sounds so simple coming from Arthur’s mouth — so easy. God knows you’ve tried, time and time again, to be honest with Ollie about your feelings, to rip off the plaster in the hopes the pain of it won’t be too great; that he might just tell you he’s been trying to say the same thing all this time. But whenever you feel as if you might be ready, the words catch in your throat. You just can’t stomach them. It’s a kind of vulnerability you’ve never shown to anyone before, let alone someone who already means so much to you. At the end of the day, you’re still young. No matter how much you love Ollie now, the chances of him being the one are low.

At least, that’s what you’ve been trying to convince yourself. But a part of you knows already — there’s no one else on earth you’ll ever feel this way about. Young or not, it’s always going to be Ollie.

“I don’t know if I can take that risk, Arth.” you say quietly, “If Ollie and I — if we’re not meant to be together…isn’t it better just to have him, even as a friend, than risk losing him entirely?”

You’re honestly not sure which is the most painful: having to pretend that you don’t love him, or the idea of one day not having him at all. Yet, you still know which one you’d choose — even if it hurts like ripping your own heart out of your chest.

“Huh.” Arthur says, eyebrows furrowing again. There’s something different in his expression this time, though. It’s less frustration, more a spark. As if he’s realised something you and Ollie may not have just yet.

“What?” you ask. Suddenly, Arthur begins to smile. You watch him disbelievingly, none the wiser as to what on earth he has to be so happy about at the present moment. Then he’s laughing, shaking his head as if in mirthful despair.

“You really are soulmates.” the Monégasque snickers, watching almost gleefully as you grow even more confused.

“What?” you ask again. Part of you begins to wonder if Arthur has lost his mind — you wouldn’t blame him after the game he’s been playing: acting as some sort of secret go-between in the middle and your and Ollie’s back and forth self-doubts. But Arthur hasn’t lost the will to live with it all just yet. In fact, he thinks he’s finally figured out how to make the both of you see sense.

“He said the exact same thing to me.”

And with that, Arthur turns on his heel, leaving you stood alone, your mind racing. All this time you’ve been trying to play the long game; trying to anticipate what Ollie is thinking, when in reality, your thoughts are practically shared. You’re both afraid. More than you ever have been in your life. But for the first time you begin to think, perhaps fear doesn’t have to be the dividing factor.

“Why do you look so pleased with yourself?” Carla Brocker asks her boyfriend as he retakes his familiar position at her side, still grinning like a child who’s just been told Christmas is coming early. Arthur says nothing, merely tilting his head in the direction of where you stand motionless. It only takes a few moments for Carla to catch on. She turns to face her boyfriend again, mouth hanging open.

“You think you’ve got through to her?” she whispers urgently.

Once again, Arthur Leclerc grins proudly.

“Just call me Cupid.”

[xfgpng]

𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐦 —

— : [ nsfw ] yakuza boss terushima, stripper y/n, cunnilingus, pussy slapping, pet names, fingering [ sir kink if you squint ]

— wc : 1.3k

the way you moved your hips was hypnotising. try as he might, terushima could not bring himself to look away from your body. he can hear kuroo talking, something about shipments and guns. he should be paying attention, he’s their boss after all but he can’t look away.

why would then have a meeting in the new club? he usually doesn’t pay attention to the dancers. they’re beautiful sure but he knows they want his money and to be known as his girl. he finds it amusing more than anything else.

you’re beautiful and he loves the way he strobe lights shine from above you. you’re so confident with your body and the way you move has everyone hooked. he has no doubts that his club his going to be raining in a lot of money tonight.

“she’s new” kiyoko says, placing their tray of alcohol on the expensive glass table, “she started on thursday”

“you didn’t think to take it up with me?” terushima asks, eyes never leaving you as you grip the pole with both your hands. his mind wonders to other poles you could hop onto.

“you never take interest in our dancers” she says dryly, “just as long as they keep customers coming back, right?”

he ignores her and stands to loosen his tie. he didn’t like the way the men down below were watching you, drooling over your body. it made him clench his jaw.

“send her to my office” he says, tone dismissive and leaving no room for anyone to argue. they know better anyway.

you weren’t scared. you knew all about the shady business and the owner of the club. you enjoyed dancing and the extra money wasn’t bad either. whatever they did wasn’t your business but when mikasa told you the boss wanted to see you, your palms felt a little clammy.

“come in” terushima, your boss, grins, “close the door sweetheart”

“yes sir” you say softly. not because you’re scared but because you’re in shock. you didn’t know this was your boss.

“have a seat” he says, “would you like a drink?”

“sure” you shrug, taking a seat on one of the luxury leather chairs in front of his desk. he smells good, even from where you’re sitting. he licks his lips and you notice the small metal ball on his tongue.

“no need to be so nervous love” he chuckles, handing you a glass of wine, “i don’t bite”

you wouldn’t mind if he did bite but you don’t say anything, subtly squeezing your thighs together as you take a sip of the wine. after a long night, it felt good to sit down and have a glass of wine.

“i don’t usually meet the dancers unless it’s for work or events” he taps his desk as he crosses his legs, “but i saw you out there tonight and i had to meet you”

you don’t really know what to say so you nod, smiling when he grins at you again. he really was so handsome but the piercing you knew he had was distracting you.

“want to see it up close?” he smirks

you feel flushed.

“i’m sorry” you say quickly, not realising you had said that out loud.

“don’t apologise sweetheart” he laughs, giving you a perfect view of the piercing again. “do you want to come sit closer?”

you don’t know why but you do. walking over, you sit on his desk right in front of him. you lean back on the table and look down at him as he eyes your legs. he’s not ashamed to check you out and even though it’s the bare minimum and he could probably get away with doing whatever he wanted, he doesn’t touch you.

“i didn’t ask for a private show but i’m not opposed to it now” he bites his lip when you tilt your head sideways. you look so pretty perched on his desk. when he invited you upstairs, he really was only interested in meeting you. he wasn’t against playing the long game.

“did you ask me up here to talk, sir?” you ask, pretty eye lashes batting at him as you teasingly spread your legs. you were usually confined so you had no reason to be shy around him. it was obvious he liked what he saw.

he groans and runs his hand through his dirty blonde hair. he narrows his eyes at you and you hide your smile.

“y/n, you’re testing my patience” he warns, “i didn’t call you up here to fuck you”

“no?” you pout

he sighs. he was known for getting around but he was more interested in you than he’d ever been in anyone else for a very long time. he doesn’t really remember a time where he was this interested.

you weren’t necessarily intimidated by him and you seemed confident which he appreciated. people enjoyed kissing his ass and he hated brown nosers.

“unless you want me to” he rolls his sleeves up, “you’re a big girl, speak up”

you spread your legs slowly, revealing just now interested you were. it was embarrassing but you wouldn’t let him know that. your sheer panties left little to the imagination up close.

“you let everyone fuck you?” he scoffs, eyes never leaving your pussy even as he mocks you.

“no” you frown, “but can you blame me right now?”

he laughs and shakes his head. he could tell you were going to be a handful and he would enjoy keeping you in check.

you lean down and kiss his jaw, trailing soft wet kisses down his neck and he bites back a groan.

“touch me sir” you whisper, “please”

he grabs your hips forward, causing you to yelp and fall backwards. he nips and bites the inside of your thighs as he grips your ass. he slaps your pussy when you try to close your thighs.

“behave baby” he says, voice sounding slightly hoarse

he kisses your clothed pussy before pressing his tongue flat against you. the feeling of the ball presses against your clit and you moan, grabbing his hair with one hand as the other travels up to grab your breasts.

“you’re so fucking wet” he moans, pushing your panties to the side as he sucks his fingers. “all for me?”

“yeah” you nod your head, grip in his hair tightening as he slips his middle finger into you. you’re tight and he feels his dick throbbing in his slacks. he was going to ruin you.

“fuck” he groans before going back in to eat your pussy. he sucks on your clit and adds a second finger. he scissors you open as he makes sure to teases your clit with his piercing.

the feeling is so foreign but so good. your sweet moans fill his office and he hopes everyone in the next room can hear just how good he’s making you feel.

you were his now.

his tongue joins the two fingers inside you and you arch your back, struggling to keep your eyes open but you want to see him so you look down.

he’s watching you intently, eyes narrowed into slits and it makes you squirm. he’s smirking against your pussy, fingers deeper than you could ever hope to achieve on your own.

“that’s it baby, ride my fucking face” he slaps your clit which causes you to scream. you grip his hair and move your hips against his face. it’s so messy and sloppy but it’s turning you on and you’re so close.

“fuck” you cry out, tossing your head back when you feel your orgasm approaching “i’m close”

“let go” he says, “cum on my face”

your legs shake from the intensity of your orgasm. you can barely catch you breath and he’s helping you ride it out. you’ve never felt this good just from being eaten out or fingered.

“you’re so fucking sexy” he groans, standing to remove his shirt.

he gives you some time to calm down. he was far from done with you and after tonight, you were his girl.

[atinywriter]

kitchen confessions

[ yunho x reader ] [ bestfriendstolovers!au]

[ listen to: dance, baby! by boy pablo // fallingforyou by the 1975 ]

[ wordcount: 2.2k ]

[ warnings: unedited, paragraph or two of a creep, little bit of kissing, soft yunho hours, my first imagine so please bear with me. ]

The pulse of the bass and the strobe of the lights had put [y/n] into a trance on the dance floor. San and Wooyoung were on either side of her swaying body, the three of them chatting away excitedly with grins on their faces. Every now and then San and Wooyoung would try to out do each others funky little dance moves, which would lead to the three of them giggling hysterically. With the group of bodies moving together [y/n] could feel herself overheating. She let both of the boys know that she was going back to their table for her drink, and started making her way between people to get there.

The bar that her friends had chosen was fairly popular, and the crowd was only growing the longer the night went on. After shimmying her way through a group of giggling girls, her eyes on their groups table in the corner, she’s stopped by a hand grasping her arm. She is turned abruptly by the firm grip, and her eyes meet the eyes of a plain boy clearly trolling on the dance floor. Without letting go of her arm, the boy starts to speak.

“I saw you over there dancing with your friends, it looked like you were giving them a real good time. Now that you’re all alone I think it’s my turn to take you for a spin, cmon and have a dance with me,” the rude boy insists, not letting up on her arm. [Y/n] takes a step back, trying to create some distance, but he steps closer again.

“No, thank you. I’m going over to meet my friends,” [Y/n] says, trying to tug her arm out of his grasp. His hold on her tightens to a bruising force and he pulls her even closer to the point where she could smell his putrid alcohol based breath. [Y/n] could feel the panic start in her lungs, making the air feel hot and her palms sweaty.

“A couple of songs won’t hurt you love, might even make you want to come home with me,” he says lewdly, a sneer on his face. From the corner of her eye, [Y/n] could see a familiar hand coming down to rest on the rude man’s wrist.

“I’m not sure if you’re deaf or stupid, but she said no. Leave, now,” she heard her best friends low tones over her shoulder. She should have known that Yunho would keep an eye on her. Taking her eyes off of the sleazy man in front of her, [Y/n] looks up at Yunho and takes in the anger rolling off of him. Yunho has always been fiercely protective of his friends, and she was no exception- if anything he was more protective and sheltering of her than anyone. The rude man sneers at both of them and scoffs before releasing her arm and walking back into the crowd of dancers.

“Are you okay, [Y/n]?” Yunho asks, putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her away towards the edge of the crowd. Taking her arm is his gentle hands, he looks over the bruising that is already starting to form and his frown deepens.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue, Yu. Some creeps don’t know when to take no for an answer,” she huffs before sending a small smile up at him. Yunho smiles gently at her and pulls her into a hug, careful not to crush her bruised arm, and rests his head on top of hers. She takes in a deep breathe and feels the tension leave her shoulders with his comforting scent.

“You know i’ll always protect you, [Y/n]. Let’s go get a drink, hmm?” He says, releasing her from his hug and slinging his arm around her shoulder again, pulling her close and tugging her over to their booth.

Mingi, Yeosang , and Jongho were seated in the booth, while Hongjoong and Seongwha were competing against each other in a game of pool. Mingi slides over leaving enough space for the two of them. [Y/n] sinks into the seat between Mingi and Yunho, picking up her drink and taking a few refreshing swigs. Rubbing her arm absentmindedly, she heard Yunho speak up from next to her.

“This bar is just not the vibe right now, let’s go onto the next one,” Yunho says, and the others agree but not before they take another round of shots. Seongwha goes out onto the dance floor to collect San and Wooyoung, while Yeosang walks over to the bar to order the shots for the table.

Everyone crowds together in a circle, each holding a shot in their hand.

“To [Y/n], congratulations on your new promotion, you’ve worked very hard and we can’t wait to see where your career takes off from here,” Hongjoong lifts his glass and slightly bows his head to you. There’s a chorus of “cheers, [Y/n]’s” and large smiles from all around while simultaneously shooting back the drinks. Gathering all of the coats and bags they’re brought, the group leaves this bar and starts walking towards the next one they had planned. Seonghwa and Hongjoong were walking together in the front, the rest of the boys were behind them goofing off and jumping around, and Yunho and [Y/n] are trailing along behind them.

“Yu, let me take a picture of you,” [Y/n] requests, leading him by the hand over to a bike post on the edge of the street. It was well lit and empty, and [Y/n] thought Yunho looked angelic, and wanted to capture a nice moment in their evening. Yunho smiles and plays along, posing while [Y/n] snaps pictures on her phone. After taking a few she hums and smiles before sending them to Yunho. Reaching out her hand, she pulls him alongside her again. The group had reached the bar, and [Y/n] and Yunho weren’t far behind.

Into the late evening and early morning, the group started breaking off and heading back to the dorms. [Y/n]’s apartment wasn’t far from their dorm, and Yunho sent the others off with the intention of seeing her home safely. He was nothing if not a gentleman.

They end up taking a cab back to her apartment, [Y/n]’s light snores flowing up from her head resting on Yunho’s shoulder. Yunho smiles softly while looking down at her soft cheeks and long lashes, resting his head against hers gently so not to wake her. The ride in the cab is not very long, so soon Yunho is unbuckling [Y/n]’s seatbelt and coaxing her out of the car. They walk up the stairs together, one surefooted and the other slightly stumbling.

Reaching the door to her apartment, [Y/n] hands her keys off to Yunho to unlock the door, which he does quickly. Holding her hand and tugging her inside, Yunho locks the door behind him and gets down on his knees in front of [Y/n]. He starts untying her shoelaces and looks up at her with a small grin on his face. [Y/n]’s eyes are wide and her full cheeks are dusted with blush. His grin widens, and he quickly works the shoes off of her feet. Slipping his off with ease when finished with your shoes, he takes your hand in his again.

“I know you’re tired, but we should really eat something. Can I make you a grilled cheese,” Yunho asks as they walk through to her kitchen. [Y/n] plops down into one of her barstools and nods.

“Only if I get to choose the music,” [Y/n] requests exuberantly, already pulling out her phone and scrolling through songs.

“That’s fine with me, just don’t let it get too loud so we don’t disturb the neighbors, right darling?” Yunho says it so nonchalantly while warming up the pan that she almost misses it. Yunho had always been sweet but he didn’t usually use pet names with her, rather using endearing ones to poke fun at each other. It made her thoughts wander, pupils darkened and eyes staring holes into the middle of his back. She could think of a lot of different ways for him to call her darling.

“I thought you were going to turn on some music,” Yunho questions before her daydreams get away with her. She smiles at him and presses play on an upbeat boy pablo song, dancing along in her seat for a second before hopping up and holding out her hand to Yunho. He waves his spatula at her as if he didn’t want to dance, but knowing Yunho he always wanted to dance. [Y/n] gets closer to him and tries enticing him even more.

“C’mon Yu, you didn’t dance with me at the club at all. You owe me a dance,” [Y/n] states matter of factly, wiggling her fingers.

“That’s because you were too busy being sandwiched between Wooyoung and San,” Yunho sighs and pouts while putting down the spatula. He folds his arms and looks down at her with his plump lips still pouted. She giggles and pulls his arms apart, waving them in the air until he loosens up and a genuine smile takes over his pout.

They bop and dance around together for a few minutes while Yunho multitasks and finishes up their grilled cheese. They eat them while the song continues on, the fun beat making them both giggle together.

The song ended and the dulcet tones of Matty Healy singing fallingforyou began, making [Y/n]’s eyes fall shut and swaying her body to the ethereal sound. Yunho looks down at her with a fond smile on his face, thinking about how much this song applies to their relationship. As far as he was aware, she was clueless to his overwhelming feelings for her. They had been friends for years, and recently he’s been feeling more for her. His tenderness had become so obvious, to the point where his friends tease him, and dare him, and try to do anything in their power to match Yunho and [Y/n] up. Yunho doesn’t mind though, it always felt like having her close kept him sane.

On the other side of things, [Y/n] knew she had feelings for Yunho. I mean honestly, how could she not. He was charming and smart, tall and handsome, the literal human embodiment of sunshine. He was her light in the darkness, but she knew how unattainable he was. Someone like him liking someone like her? Highly improbable. A fun daydream to have in moments like this. In her eyes, Yunho was so far out of her league it wasn’t even funny.

[Y/n] could feel Yunho’s hands pulling her closer to dance to the slower song. Her eyes opened and looked up into Yunho’s soft brown ones. He pulled her into his chest, her head resting against it while his warm arm wrapped around her back. They swayed together while he hummed, his low reverb vibrating through her. It felt very intimate to her, and she couldn’t stop the flush and nerves that zapped through her body. Listening to the lyrics of the song, she couldn’t help but feel a lump in her throat, wanting to confess her never ending fondness for him. She wanted to, more than anything, but the anxiety was making tears build up in the corners of her eyes.

“I don’t want to be your friend, I want to kiss your neck,” Yunho’s soft voice sang along quietly while swaying them, and [Y/n] couldn’t help but stop and look up at him.

“I can’t hold it in anymore, Yu. I think I’m in love with you. I know that this is gonna be awkward now because there’s no way you could ever like me but I just couldn’t hold onto it anymore,” [Y/n] rushes out in one breath. Her face heats up and a tear falls from her eye, the heat of embarrassment enfolding her body.

“Oh baby, why are you crying?” Yunho’s warm hang reaches up to wipe the tear from her cheek.

“I’m so scared you’re never going to want to hold my hand again… and your hand is the only hand I ever want to hold,” [Y/n] says, being as honest as she can now that all of her cards are on the table. She sniffles and looks down at her feet.

“You’re hand was made to fit in mine, you take my breath away with everything you do. I can’t believe it took me all these years to figure out how I truly feel about you. You are everything to me [Y/n], I love you,” Yunho confesses, feeling weight leave his shoulders at knowing you feel the same. It’s exhilarating.

His hand still resting on her soft cheek, Yunho tilts her head upwards towards him, and leans down 80% of the way. He wants to give her the chance to back away if she needs to. Instead, [Y/n] pushes her pillow soft lips into his, and Yunho’s eyes close at the feeling. He had imagined it so many times, and his imagination could never compare to the real thing. Pulling you closer Yunho deepens the kiss between them, a soft moan leaving her lips at the feeling of his hands on her hips. His grip tightens before he backs his head away from yours a bit.

“Please, be mine?” He asks, looking intently into her eyes.

“As if I could be anyone else’s.”

[couldntbedamned]

Waiting for the sun to be rising

Pairing: Stephen Strange/Reader

Warnings: 18+, Some sexual content, Discussion of chronic illness, Terrible medical flirting

Word Count: 1.1k ish

Summary: After a wild romp, you relax with Stephen and contemplate your relationship, reassuring him that regardless of what he does (or doesn’t) say you know exactly how he feels about you.

Author’s Note: This is super self-indulgent. As someone with a chronic illness that often affects the sensation and dexterity of my hands, Stephen and his scarred hands are so close to my heart.

A dim light strobed in the room. Cracking an eye, you saw that the bedroom hadn’t turned into a pitiful excuse for a rave, just that your outer robe had gone flying and caught on one of the paddles of the ceiling fan, every slow rotation covering the light then letting it shine along with the stray sunbeams peeking out from the blackout curtains.

“This isn’t the mood lighting I asked for.” Your voice wasn’t strong enough to convey the annoyance you felt. It was bumming your afterglow.

A careless flick of a hand - large with long, scarred fingers sent the robe flying off and landing somewhere on the floor to join its fallen brethren.

You heard as he heaved a deep sigh and let out a groan. “What did you do to me?”

“What did I do to you?” You asked with a scoff. “I’m the one who can hardly move.”

You were no stranger to fatigue - it had been a regular part of your life since you were in college and wondering if your fuzzy vision would ever go back to normal (surprisingly, yes) or your balance ever be the same (alas, no), or you’d ever find out just what was on that scan the doctors did of your brain (also, no). You’d lived with it for more than a decade of ups and downs so fatigue? You knew fatigue. You knew when tingling nerves heralded something terrible to come.

The way your body ached and everything in you tingled and made you want to stretch out even further and clench your toes and savor the feel of the cool sheets on your bare feet? That wasn’t fatigue.

It was the kind of delightful satisfaction that only came from getting fucked in the best way possible.

“Par for the course with the heat we’ve been having.”

You rolled your eyes as you shifted just enough to look at him. He was the only one who could get away with saying something like that to you.

Stephen cut a gorgeous figure with a long, lean frame with just enough muscle to make you want to bite into it. Softly. (And you had. Many times.) He had one long leg bent at the knee and an arm resting above his head and blue eyes glittered at you under strands of dark hair that had escaped its former perfect styling.

Your hands raked through his hair as he kissed up and down your neck; you loved to mess it up and see him looking less than absolutely perfect.

He wasn’t covered by anything, simply lying naked, a smirk dancing around his lips. Your eyes swept downward as they often did, ceasing their journey at the sight of his cock, the flaccid length resting for the moment but still heavy between his thighs. Heavens, you loved that cock!

“Please, deeper, Stephen please!” He shifted just so and there it was, so deep and caressing that spot that sent a stabbing pleasure throughout your entire body.

“Maybe we’ll just say we each wrecked the other, then,” Stephen offered. “See? I can compromise.”

You laughed, amused. “I would say those people who’ve accused you otherwise don’t know you very well.”

“Oh?”

“You can be a dick, Stephen,” - you saw his quick smile at that - “but you’re not nearly as bad as other people like to make you out to be.”

No, he cared and was far more considerate than most assumed.

“Even if I have trouble saying it?”

Ah, yes. The three little words that so many people were desperate to hear that for a host of reasons, didn’t fall easily from his lips. You didn’t mind.

“You don’t have to,” you told him, taking one of his hands and gently massaging his fingers, kissing each as you completed your little self-appointed task. You knew what nerve damage felt like. “You show me a million little ways how much you love me.” With a giggle you started on his other hand. “Most recently it’s been spelling my clothes to keep me cool during this insufferable heat wave. You’re here for me and you let me gripe when I’m low on spoons, but you don’t treat me like I’m helpless. I don’t need pretty words from you.”

“You deserve to hear them,” Stephen said.

Finished with his hands, you worked on your own. The last exacerbation hadn’t been kind to your left, but the massaging it helped. “Maybe, but they’re not necessary. Not when you’re a man of action.” You looked over at him. “And judging by the action we just had, I know exactly how you feel.”

“I do, you know,” he said finally. “I really do.”

“I know you do.” You rolled into him and sighed as he wrapped his arms around you and held you close.

“Well, except for the other stuff,” he added. “Most of the things I say when I’m inside you, I don’t mean those.”

You lifted your head to study him. He looked so serious, almost sad. Your heart clenched; you weren’t always great with words, either. Actions came much easier. Only, you wanted to ease that look off of his face.

“You mean you don’t think I’m a dirty little whore only desperate for a long, thick cock to take me apart?” you asked with an exaggerated teasing pout.

Stephen briefly rolled his eyes. Mission accomplished. “Of course, I don’t. I… I just don’t want you to worry that the words that do come easily to me are what I actually believe.”

Such a precious man.

“And what about when you tell me I’m your good girl who takes your cock so well, like it’s what I was created for?”

Stephen’s eyes, so intense, darken and you feel his cock stir. “When you’ve behaved and done as I’ve told you, of course I mean it then.”

You kissed him as he rolled you over. “So long as you mean that, I am more than happy to let you say whatever dirty, filthy thing pops into that brilliant mind of yours.”

His knee fit itself between your legs and he pressed your hands against the pillow on either side of your head. Satisfied, he leaned down to whisper against your lips. “Stay just like this and I’ll give you a much better reason to be fatigued.”

You debated teasingly trying to move but decided against it. He needed it, you knew.

“Is this my treatment?” you asked instead.

His lips quirked. “You know me; I’m all about exploring new therapies.”

“My insurance isn’t that good,” you teased as he slid inside you, a delicious stretch that had your nerves tingling in the best way.

“I can think of a few ways you might reimburse me,” he teased back, rocking his hips.

“That was terrible!” Your laugh was cut short as he hit that spot. He thrust again and a moan escaped. Then another and another until any thoughts of teasing were long gone from your mind in the face of the pleasure Stephen brought.

“That’s it,” he encouraged. “Just be good for me, be my good girl.”

You would. Of course, you would.

[genjispeace]

Price of Love - Chapter 3

Soft blankets greet you with a warm embrace as you start to drift out of sleep. You pull the blankets up and tuck them under your chin, letting yourself bask in the warmth they provide. It’s a nice few minutes where you can pretend everything is normal, but it’s a fleeting moment and you are forced to face reality. 

You rub the last few remnants of sleep out of your eyes and loll your head to the side, immediately recognizing the room as the one Angela had led you to. The window still has the curtains pushed aside, but only small glimpses of moonlight filter in. A faint lamp is lit in one of the corners, and you take this chance to observe more of the room. A painting of a skyline hangs against one of the walls, just a few inches above a dresser. There’s a door behind it, but you know it isn’t the same door you came in. You notice an armchair just a few feet from the bed and, to your surprise, it isn’t empty. Genji sits there, his red eyes watching you intently. You try to sit up quickly, but the throbbing in your head and your neck returns, pulsating like strobe lights. You wince and try to hold yourself up.

“Please be careful,” Genji says, already out of the chair and next to the bed. Another time, you would marvel about how quickly and fluidly he can move, but not now. You can see slight dark circles under his eyes, but most of his face is hidden under the same mask you last saw him in. You push yourself back slightly, allowing your body to lean against the headboard. 

“I’m fine,” you say. It���s obvious he doesn’t believe you. 

“I’ve been with you, and you’ve only been asleep for a few hours. Are you feeling any better?” Genji asks. You blink, your mind focusing on the wrong part of that statement. 

“You were in here with me while I slept?” You ask. Your eyebrows furrow. Why would he have any reason to do that? 

“Somebody needed to keep an eye on you,” he whispers, his fingers lightly touching one of the blankets.

“I’m fine,” you say again. It’s always been a habit of yours to pretend nothing is wrong constantly, always saying that you are fine. Even in a situation like this, you can’t seem to shake that. 

“Stop,” his voice is stern, making you almost jump out of your skin. “Don’t lie to me like that.”

“What do you want me to say?” 

“Yell at me, tell me you hate me, tell me you want to be let go, tell me you’re terrified. I don’t know, but not this,” Genji gestures at you. You frown. Why would he want you to hate him? Granted, you aren’t exactly happy with this situation, but Angela said they won’t hurt you. You actually think you can trust her to stick to her word. 

“I’m just confused,” is all you say, and it’s true. You know how you ended up here in a technical sense, but it is still foggy as to how everything connects to each other. You literally ended up for sale. How are you supposed to feel about that? 

“Ask me anything. I’ll answer,” Genji says, his eyes scanning your face. You feel chills run along your spine when you meet his crimson gaze. You need answers. 

“Why did you buy me?” The same question rings through your mind. 

“I didn’t. Reyes did.”

“You were there,” you say, and your tone sounds a lot more accusatory than you meant for it to. Genji either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care. 

“I was. Reyes wants to use you for information,” Genji picks at a loose string on the comforter. 

“I don’t know anything,” your eyes narrow. Could this have all been avoided if they just believed you when you first said you don’t know anything about Talon? The thought makes anger spark up in the pit of your stomach. 

“Reyes wants to make sure,” Genji says, but it doesn’t go unnoticed how his body tenses with the words. Angela’s words repeat in your mind. Genji and Reyes are not exactly on the same page right now.

“What is Reyes going to do?” You take your bottom lip in between your teeth and chew on it. 

“He wants to dig into your head, see if there’s anything buried deep in there that you can’t remember,” Genji pauses, but continues speaking. “I told Moira not to.”

“Why?” Why would he stop them from doing that? If he is on their side, wouldn’t he want the information just as badly?

“Moira doesn’t always leave minds as neat and tidy as they were when she found them,” he says, as if that answers everything. It doesn’t. If anything, it leaves you with more questions, and makes fear inch its way up your spine. What are these people capable of? 

“And why do you care?” You almost wince at how sharp your voice sounds. Genji’s brows furrow, but he regains composure almost as quickly as he lost it. 

“You don’t deserve that,” he says.

“I didn’t deserve to be sold either. That didn’t seem to matter,” you snap. A look of sadness flashes through the crimson eyes watching you, but it’s barely there. 

“You didn’t, and I plan on making sure Talon knows that,” his eyes darken as he speaks. His voice is lower, darker, just like his gaze. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, almost afraid to hear the answer. If Genji is part of some covert operations group, he has to be deadly. What would he be capable of? 

“Nothing,” Genji shuts down that conversation quickly. “Your condition is more important. Are you hungry? Tired?” 

“A little tired. My body still aches,” you say after a sigh. Genji nods. 

“I’m not surprised,” Genji stops, as if he’s calculating his next words before speaking. “Do you wanna get some more rest? Or maybe take a shower? The hot water may help with the aches.”

You nod. A shower does sound nice. Genji is probably right. The hot water and steam would probably make you feel a little better, or at least ease some of the aches echoing throughout your muscles. 

“Can I take a shower?” 

“Of course. The bathroom is through that door,” he points at the door by the dresser. “You’re welcome to it.”

You pull the blankets off of your body and start climbing out of the bed. Genji’s gaze never leaves you. There’s a chill in the hardwood floor as you cross the room. Just as you reach out and wrap your hand around the door handle, Genji calls out your name. You turn to face him, seeing him standing in the same place you left him. His eyes almost glow in the low lighting, like a predator watching prey. 

“Yeah?” You ask. 

“Will you be able to stand long enough to shower or…do you need my assistance?” Genji’s words are purely formal, but the implications still make your cheeks heat up. You’re sure they are a rosy shade of pink by now, but hopefully the minimal lighting in the room is covering that up for you. 

“I…uh-” you cough. “I think I’m okay.”

Genji nods, and you wish you could see the lower half of his face right now. Is he reacting at all? Smirking? Laughing? Or is his expression completely blank? He watches as you retreat quickly into the bathroom and you swear you hear a chuckle on the other side of the door. Your heart jumps in your chest. No, you shouldn’t be reacting this way to him. 

You push all thoughts of him out of your head and focus on the bathroom. White marble countertops sit under a giant mirror, a faucet with gold accents is part of the marble. It’s all beautiful. Then there’s the shower. It’s frosted glass, with four shower heads along the walls. You dig through mahogany cabinets until you find a towel. You turn the water on and let steam fill the room as you carefully take off the clothes you were given. Your neck aches with certain movements, but you are able to get them off without much trouble. 

You finally step into the shower and let the warm water cascade down your body. It’s a little hotter than you usually let it be, but the scald brings your senses back. You want to think of some sort of a plan to follow, but your brain can’t grasp any solid idea. You couldn’t try to escape. You know nothing about where you are, and you would probably be caught if you tried, right? But could you learn more and eventually escape? Or is that just hopeful thinking? Would they hunt you down if you did escape? The questions keep echoing through your head as you scrub your body and wash your hair. The warm water does soothe the aches in your body, and you let out a soft sigh. 

You stay under the water until your fingertips prune and your skin is tinged a shade of pink from the heat. You turn the water off and wrap the blue towel around your body. It’s soft against your skin, and you almost want to stay in it instead of putting any clothes back on. Speaking of, you look around the floor for where you left your clothes, but there is nothing there. Panic rises in the back of your throat, but you notice a pile of something on the edge of the counter. You hold the towel against yourself with one hand and reach out to the pile. Multiple different items of clothing sit there, from sweaters to shirts and shorts to sweatpants. Your brows furrow as you look at them. There was no need to bring you this much clean clothes. Though, you are grateful for it. You say a silent thank you, already knowing who brought these to you. 

You grab a pair of sweatpants and a certain t-shirt that feels softer than the others. It’s a shade of dark green and has long sleeves, and when you pull it on it has a faded scent of pine trees and vanilla. Why does that scent feel familiar? You shake off the feeling as best you can, letting yourself look at your reflection in the mirror. There’s still a thick bandage around your neck and your eyes have slight dark circles under them despite the sleep you’ve gotten recently. Part of you wants to take the bandage off and see what it looks like under the gauze, but you opt to leave it as is. You probably don’t want to see that anyway. 

You grab the rest of the clothes and leave the bathroom. You find Genji in the same armchair, his neck craned as he props up his head with his hand. His eyes flutter open, thick lashes blinking, as if he was starting to fall asleep. As soon as he sees you, though, he eyes shoot the rest of the way open and he stands up. 

“Thank you for the clothes,” you whisper, walking towards him and offering the rest of the pile. He meets you halfway and takes it, his fingers ghosting yours, but he just sits it down on the dresser. 

“Sorry there aren’t many options. We don’t have a lot of spare clothing around here. I had to put a few of my shirts in there,” Genji says, and you feel his gaze linger on your frame. That crimson gaze is taken over by an emotion, but it’s gone before you even have the slightest chance to try to decode it. You frown. Why did he look at you like that?

“It’s okay,” you say softly. “Are you tired?”

Genji freezes. His body jolts, as if he’s shocked by your question. 

“I’m fine,” he says, glancing at you. 

“Hey. You said I can’t lie. Neither can you,” you chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, but Genji doesn’t laugh. He pauses, like he doesn’t know how to respond. Eventually, though, he finds words. 

“I haven’t slept since we brought you here. I have been keeping an eye on you,” he says. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He’s sacrificing his sleep to keep an eye on you. Why is it seeming more and more like he actually cares about you as a person, and not as something to get information out of? He’s…confusing. 

“Go get some rest,” you say, stepping away from him and over to the bed. You will probably go back to sleep soon too, your body already starting to get tired. 

“Soon. First, we need to change the bandage on your neck.”Genji turns to watch as you walk to the bed. You sigh. You had a feeling that was going to need to be done at some point. 

“I can handle that,” you say, and Genji shakes his head. 

“It’ll be hard to wrap your own neck,” Genji says, and you sigh. He’s right. “I can do it for you, or if you are more comfortable, I can go wake Angela and she can do it.” 

“No, don’t wake her up. I’ve already been enough of an inconvenience for her,” you say, and you truly believe it. She may be a doctor, but you are not one of her patients. You already feel an inkling of guilt that she had to take care of you when she did. Though, you usually do have an unreasonable amount of guilt over people taking care of you. 

“You’re not, but I can still do it,” Genji says. You nod, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Genji walks to the chair he was sitting in, picking up a white box off of the table next to it. He returns to you, sitting softly on the bed with you. The zipper on his jacket is slightly low, and you can see the skin of his chest under it. Though, you notice that it isn’t all skin. Part of it looks to be some sort of metal, just like the metal that one of his hands is made out of. The part that is skin looks to have some deep scars along the surface, but the majority of it is covered. You try to drop your gaze and see more, but it’s all blocked. Genji leans over to open the first aid kit, and you hear a chuckle. 

“If you want to see me shirtless, just ask,” he says. His hair falls slightly in his face as he leans over the kit and digs through it. You’re glad he isn’t looking at you, otherwise he would see the way your cheeks turn practically red at his words. You stutter a response. 

“I wasn’t-” 

“Relax. I’m just messing with you. It doesn’t bother me to have people look at me. Not anymore, at least. They usually think I’m a freak anyway,” he says. He doesn’t sound sad about it, but you still feel a pang of guilt, like you overstepped a boundary. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t think that,” you say, and Genji pauses. A packet of gauze is in his metal hand, but his fingers still twitch. He finally looks up, and his gaze locks with yours. Those crimson eyes burn your skin. It’s like he can see right through you and knows everything. He’s watching you as if he’s trying to figure you out. You just smile at him, and he breaks eye contact. He continues digging through the first aid kit as you shift, turning to face him and pulling your legs under you until you are in a cross-legged position. He finally finds what he was looking for and pulls a small tube of something out of the bottom of the kit. He lays all of his supplies on the bed and faces you.

“I’m going to touch you now, okay?” He says. You nod. He cautiously reaches out and unwraps the bandage around your neck. He has to lean forward to reach you, and you can feel his breath against your skin. HIs brows knit together with focus, but you can barely breathe. He’s so close to you. The cold metal of one of his hands runs along your neck, and the bandage is pulled away. He softly cups your face with one hand and moves your head to the side to see better. It’s purely calculated, but you can’t help the way your cheeks heat up at his gentle touch on your face. He tuts and leans back, reaching for the tube of ointment. 

“I should kill Akande myself for doing this,” he whispers under his breath as he squirts some of the ointment onto his metal fingers. You start to reply, but your voice catches in your throat as he gingerly touches your neck. His touch is so soft and gentle that your head starts to spin. His touch is so tender, it’s making you dizzy. 

His hand spreads the ointment evenly, and he has to reach around to make sure to cover the back of your neck. He moves a bit closer to do that and sits up enough to reach, which puts his chest close to your face. Between his soft fingers along the back of your neck and his chest in your face, it’s no wonder your cheeks aren’t the color of a tomato. Though, they might be. 

He sits back and grabs the gauze before carefully unraveling it. Your heart beats so loud in your chest you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. His fingers expertly wrap the gauze around your neck, carefully making sure to not choke you. 

“Is it too tight?” He whispers, still adjusting the cloth. 

“No.” You pray he doesn’t realize how breathless you sound. He finishes wrapping, then leans back and admires his work. The gauze is perfectly wrapped around your neck, not too tight or too loose. You reach up and touch it, feeling the soft and pillowy gauze. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, still rubbing your hands along your neck. He nods, and you find yourself once again wishing you could see his full face. Does he look as flustered as you feel? Surely not. He clears his throat, then finally speaks again.

“I brought you a bottle of water. Can I do anything else for you?” He says, pointing at the nightstand. You shake your head. You don’t really trust yourself to find words right now. “Okay, then I’ll leave you.”

Genji’s words come out, yet he doesn’t move. His eyes keep watching you, that crimson gaze darting all over your face. How just his gaze can make you feel breathless is something you don’t want to think about. He blinks, then pushes himself off of the bed. He runs a hand through his hair, then walks toward the door. 

“I’ll check in on you again in the morning,” he whispers, then leaves the room quickly and closes the door behind him. You breathe out hardly, feeling as if it’s the first full breath you’ve taken in several minutes. You move all of the first aid items off of the bed and then grab the bottle of water. A few gulps go down your throat, and ease the feeling of dryness. Your cheeks start to cool.

You turn the lamp out and slide back under the covers. The faint smell of vanilla and pine trees fills your nose as you curl up in the bed. You try not to think about how Genji reacted to you, about how you reacted to him. Sleep starts to take you over quickly, and you let it.

[freetheshit-outofyou]

First, I applaud their efforts to stop senseless violence, even if I personally think it is as much wasted air as thoughts and prayers. The "Lightguard system" is a non-starter, it will make things much less safe than the actual confrontation itself. Here is their "proof of concept" clip.

First, we're in 2023 not 2003 lets make this a little more presentable and less like a high school digital project.

I'm speaking as someone who spent a career as an LEO and in the military, when I make these observations I'm not just shooting from the hip as it were. This clip shows the offender dropping their gun and running away blind, and the clerk looking back at your system lovingly, two problems. 1. Your clerk would also be blinded, thus rendered defenseless to anything that follows on. Light of this magnitude is all encompassing, it will bounce off every surface and it will blind in all directions except for maybe directly behind it. The light will not care if the person is looking at it or away from it. Everyone recovers from this kind of event exposure differently, the criminal may recover before the clerk. 2. The very last thing you want to do when someone is pointing a gun at you is to shock them or surprise them. There is a greater than average chance that the activation of your system will scare the criminal causing them to shoot reflexively. Now you have a clerk who had a criminal pointing a gun at them shooting blindly. As I said, good in concept, but practical application may need a little more attention. Also see strobing firearms lights, strobing crowd control and Laser dazzlers systems. As for "Smart guns", where to start? One of the two companies mentioned LodeStar, admits the fingerprint sensor may not be the most effective means to unlock the firearm for use, think your phones finger print reader and how often it fails. So they added a PIN pad AND a near-field communication signal to increase the probability that their concept would work. They had to put a finger print reader, an electronic signal receiver and a freaking PIN pad in the weapon. That tells me two things, the tech is so bad that they had to put multiple systems together to TRY to ensure the firearm would work most of the time and if you are putting your life on the line hoping all of those gadgets work when you need them too you are already dead. LodeStar says their firearm's will start at about 895.00 or about 355.00+/- more than your standard Glock 19 Gen 5. Every time I type LodeStar I hear... "Not so fast Lonestar!" from Spaceballs (1987), I digress. The other company, SmartGunz, is marketing towards Law Enforcement with a side market to everyone else. Their concept requires an RFID chip to make the firearm work, Oh, but there's more. Their concept only works on a 1911 style firearm, it will only work if the user depresses the grip safety WHILE ALSO WEARING A FREAKING RFID GLOVE to activate it. I don't know about all y'all but I don't often walk around or sleep with a glove on like I'm Michael Jackson.

Sorry Mike, I still love your music. On 8 July 2021 the firearms were projected to cost 2,695.00 for LEO's and an astounding 2,995.00 for all the rest of us peasants. I say "US" because I am no longer an LEO and can't get their gracious discount. On 12 July of that same year Tom Holland, president of Free State Firearms, LLC announced that the cost for pre-orders would be 1,795.00 for LEO's and the low price of 1,995.00 for everyone else. As far as 1911's go that is the cost of a Colt Gold Cup Trophy or a Dan Wesson Valor 1911 without all that tech to get in the way of you saving your own life. It's also the cost of 3 Glock 19 Gen 5's or or 3 Palmetto State Armory "PA-15 16"NITRIDE M4 CARBINE" 5.56mm riles. With all that said, these technologies are not in place to make the end user safer, they do nothing to address violent crime, it only lays the burden on the person who at their point of most need, when their mind is in survival mode, it adds roadblocks to their chances of survival. SIDE NOTE: A German company named Armatix came out with a smart gun in 2014, soon after people figured out that with magnets on the sides of the firearm it would bypass the guns radio signals and allow anyone to use it, it was pulled from the market there soon after.

[superespresso]

Leaving Your Mark On A Genre: The Lost Artisans of Vocaloid

If you've been around me for more than 5 seconds you're aware that I am an avid enjoyer of Project Diva games. Learning this week about every single producer who was associated with the music that has passed has made it extremely difficult to play. I keep missing buttons in every song I play because I'll suddenly remember I'm playing a song by wowaka, or while scrolling past samfree in the menu have a moment of sadness that doesn't clear up.

There's been a strange sense of melancholy playing certain songs. Even before this research project and learning about the people who had passed just watching the Viva Happy PV or Odds & Ends left me strangely.. empty feeling.

I didn't know about any of these producers passing on. I work in news media and frankly I don't go looking for news when off the clock because it's a job that sucks the soul out of you. When I'm home I'm content to enjoy things as they are. Imagine my surprise to see a tweet of unrelated context alluding to wowaka's passing. How insane it was to me to learn of this. Moments later after commenting such I'd learned of Samfree, and Powapowa-P. After giving it some time I decided to do my due diligence, especially since others in the same thread stated "They weren't aware of any others."

This is only 6 of 40 listed on the VocaDB under deceased. Please add to this if you have anything else to share about any of these producers or others you know of. I'd love to hear more. What was special about their music to you?

Perhaps others are like me and don't know of these passings. Maybe you've played a Vocaloid game, but the names are unfamiliar. Or, you just know the songs by cover-artists. I'd never done any digging on these people, but I've been melancholy. I wanted to know more about who they were.

As an aside before the cut-- this is expanded from an X thread I started. Less space on X to work with, and less comfort using Blue expansion. If you see anything blatantly copied from X, it's probably from here.

The 6 Big Names:

Powapowa-P.

Samfree.

Otsu-P.

Wowaka.

Brother-P.

SHIKI.

It feels incredibly impersonal to just list names. So for each one lets talk about what they did. I'm not going to go into detail about their passing, or their families. If you want to do that you're welcome to go search that. I want to celebrate their life and accomplishments. As stated above; any others whom I may have missed (I don't have the most vast knowledge about this subject) I humbly invite others to include. I welcome additions. It would please me to hear others celebrate the lives of the people who made the music I still enjoy from high-school.

PowaPowa-P (ぽわぽわP)/siinamota (椎名もた) or Mizoguchi Ryou (溝口遼)

In 2012 he joined GINGA; performed live performances and was extremely popular on a worldwide stage. He was beloved on Niconico for his compositions as well as the arrangements and lyrics in many songs self-produced. He was also talented with the piano, and utilized this skill for quite a few songs and albums Today on TikTok, Young Girl A is still getting a massive number of views and features in videos as backing. The song features strong themes of depression and unhappy mentality. It's themes are shared by "Alive" which ranked #1 in 30 different countries on Apple music.

He mostly used Miku & Rin for Vocalsynth, with many, many album releases-- including Best-Of tracks.

Some of his most notable works are:

Young Girl A

Alive

Q

Sayonara Remember-san

Strobe Hello

Hello Strobe

Strobe Last

Strobe Light

Please Give Me a Red Pen

samfree or Sano Takayuki (佐野貴幸)

You know who samfree is if you've ever picked up a Vocaloid game. The picture may not be familiar. The name may not jar your memory, but the music will.

His songs were hits from conception. On this list he is one of the most well known just from his notoriety. He was more than just a Vocaloid composer. He was also an Utaite himself, being in "Nanario no Nico Nico Douga" and prompting a flood of response. He released 6 albums himself between 2008-2011.

His songs have been in more than just Vocaloid though, having credit in "The Sound of SEINS;GATE Complete" from March of 2016 as the arranger, "TOHO Eurobeat" Volumes 1, 3, and 4. As well as "The Best Of Non-Stop TOHO Eurobeat 2011" and "The Revival Mix 2" (TOHO Eurobeat) albums as a mix of an arranger and lyricist.

His significant works in the Vocaloid franchise include:

Luka Luka★Night Fever

Neko Neko★Super Fever Night

Megu Megu☆Fire Endless Night

miki miki★Romantic Night

Piko Piko☆Legend of the Night

Tako Luka★ Maguro Fever

Lily Lily ★ Burning Night

Many other "Night" Credits in the same series.

Missing

Promise

Bye-Bye Lover

Rainbow

Otsu-P (乙P)

Otsu-P released fewer songs than others on this list due to the year of their sudden passing being 2013. It's easy to tell from fan reactions still in circulation that they have no shortage of affection still. Their music lives on within compilations and re-releases, keeping his memory fresh.

Producers released the "Pandoras Box" album after their passing-- including songs that had final touches placed post-mortem so that those who enjoyed their work could enjoy everything they had to offer. There is very, very little about Otsu-P available. That's okay. If you have anything to share, or any kind of memory you'd like to include-- please do.

The works included on their most notable are:

chord line

Oman Ko

Innovation

Mythologist

Pandora's Box

Stick With You

wowaka (ヲワカ)/Genjitsutouhi-P (現実逃避P)

This is the hardest one to cover for me. It's very strange. For a while now SPiCA has made me very, very sad. I wasn't sure why. I didn't know about wowaka until this week. The song isn't meant to be sad at all. The musical undertone though leaves me feeling empty. Now I can't even play the song. It really did leave a deep mark. Even choosing a picture, I went through about 20 of them, just to find one where he looked content.

Wowaka heard about Vocaloid after hearing "Last Night, Good Night," enjoying and being shocked by the ability of the program-- as well as the ability of a single user to do so much production. Debuting in 2009 and exploding soon after, wowaka formed the band "hitorie" in 2011, establishing BALLOOM. Under the BALOOM umbrella, artists would be able to publish music worldwide.. from the internet. Following this "Rolling Girl" saw an international release.

In 2011 after this release, wowaka worked mostly with his band and label instead of the Vocaloid software. During this time he'd composed and worked on the lyrics for "And I'm Home," featured as the ending theme song of Puella Magi Madoka Magica. The type to stay busy, he'd always had a project. Eventually he would be back with a bang in 2017, releasing the Vocaloid track: "Unknown Mother-Goose."

Not only did he get used to the software though, he was personal with the developers. Wowaka was friends with Hachi (Yonezu Kenshi) at one point describing their relationship as "close."

The associations list for wowaka are almost endless. From Toku, Oster Project and onward. If you look at any Project Diva game or best-of discography for Vocaloid you will see at least one wowaka song. If you play the games you know of his songs as almost always being the ones to get you stuck for a bit on the harder difficulties. They're so catchy that no one seems to mind.

Here's some of the ones picked from an extremely long list:

Rolling Girl

Two Faced Lovers

World's End Dancehall

SPiCA -nopq remix-

Romeo & Cinderella

Unhappy Refrain

Prism Cube

Reversible Doll

Brother-P (ブラザーP)

Unlike the others on this list; Brother-P was not a musician, and a bit more recent. His specialization was the animations associated with some of our favorite songs. It's likely you've seen at least one of them, with Sony having his work included in a DVD release for Vocaloid content.

A few of these Music Video compilations have been released over the years, with many making it to Youtube. With inclusion of 2DMV's, his work has been included in everything from DVD to Video Games. Modders especially have used his content in Megamix+ to bring life to songs.

Like wowaka, I've had a deep feeling of sadness when playing certain songs. Namely Viva Happy and Odds & Ends. Today actually, I had to pause playing Odds & Ends. (using the Brother-P MV actually.) Before I had learned of this information this had happened with me sitting at my desk feeling oddly empty. That's when I had started working on this, as I felt like I had to work on something important to me. It lead me to this information. I feel strange about it. Especially with how odd the timing is. But, It shows how deeply the PV's do make a difference.

Some of the ones I specifically want to pick out:

Change Me

Viva Happy

Mr.wonderboy

Odds & Ends (fanmade, but brilliant)

SHIKI

Already popular before working with Vocaloid2, SHIKI crossed over into composing and arrangement on the new platform with Harmonia in 2008. It only took two songs for him to grab attention. You'll find him on the 2010 Sony DVD ~memories~, as well as the September 2010 Exit Tunes Presents Vocaloanthems album.

SHIKI lead and worked with a Visual Rock group "GILDA" until his departure in 2016. Before this he worked with Be-Music Source files (BMS) form 2002 until his passing in 2021. His legacy includes tracks for DJMAX, Sega's maimai, and オンゲキ series, and Albums for any kind of enjoyment type. He really was prolific.

HIs credits also included Lapis, Air, Ruby, and Setsuna. Love went into his creations at every step and it showed.

Some of his memorable credits include:

Triangle☆Girl's Heart

Prism Door

Endless Dream

Blue Ray

MEMORIES

Saturation

So, with all due respect.. I did find the deceased page while re-checking things. I did look at it. It's much longer than I originally thought it would be. Again, I implore others to add to this. Pay respects to those they enjoy the works of. Include the artists they care about. Drama in Vocaloid has been happening for such a long time. Let's turn that around. Make it a more hospitable group to be a part of.

[androdragynous]

slightly strange question, feel free to ignore if it's too weird/makes you uncomfortable in any way.

hi i'm also a mobility aid user who loves character customization and also video game design. i kinda. collect? posts ppl make where they talk about how character customizations have excluded them or failed to account for the true range of human experience (ex, weight sliders that go from thin to not-quite-as-thin, lack of black hairstyles, lack of mobility aid options, no limb difference options, no hearing aids, etc). and i know that no character customizer could ever TRULY cover the entire range, but i also am fueled by spite and don't like assholes telling me what is and isn't possible.

so. with that as the background, i would genuinely love to know 1, what kind of mobility aid you use, 2, other grievances you have found with character customizers in the past, 3, other things you don't think are included often enough even if it's not something that applies to you/that you would ever use, and 4, anything else you don't see enough of in terms of video game accessibility

no pressure to respond, of course, and feel free to only respond to some of these (again, zero pressure at all!) but i love collecting data from ppl who don't see themselves in character customizers, and i love knowing what can be done to help 💖

I don't mind answering, at least the basics!

At the moment I have a cane and a rollator, though I'm hoping to get a wheelchair for prolonged outings; I mainly end up just using the cane when I go out for transport convenience, to the chagrin of future me

I don't think I have any unusual sentiments on character creators. I don't usually try to make myself or specific characters, so I'm usually just messing around with what I'm given rather than trying to replicate options that don't exist. Don't like that eye patches usually take up the single head accessory slot, even though you can stack them with other things in real life, including other eyewear.

The ones you mentioned are definitely ones missing a lot. I don't think I've ever seen a game that lets you have a service animal even purely cosmetically, like a seeing eye dog. Not a lot of options for facial asymmetry. I think it would be neat to be able to select the amount of facial expression your character does in games where that's shown, like Dragon Age or Fallout, or to be able to select sign language for your character rather than speaking.

Is "everything" a sufficient answer for missing accessibility? Honestly, there's not a lot that's in there to start with. Flash / strobe toggles, distortion filter toggles, particle effects toggles, UI and caption font + scaling options. Hmm. Button mapping obviously. Motion controls or one handed controls when possible. Sound cues for collisions with walls / objects, or sound cues to indicate you're on the right path to a destination or something important is nearby (Nirnroot, for all of the jokes about it, makes a good example). Color / contrast adjustments beyond just overall brightness scaling - being able to darken the backgrounds so objects and NPCs stand out more, for example. Spoken UI options. Sound effect + directional captions. Saving at any time and pausing at any time. Volume scales broken down into sections instead of just one master volume slider. Ui dark / light modes. Icon-heavy UI having text along with the symbols. Warnings for anything that might have to be toggled (like flashing) so it doesn't come as a surprise later. UI for accessibility settings being clear and accessible in itself - if I can't find the settings for limited vision because I have limited vision, it's not accessible.

That's all I can think of off the top of my head; hope it's useful to you!

[turtle--soup]

Finally got around to watching TMNT Next Mutation again! It's been forever 😭

Ramblings under the cut...

Episode 12

Love Mikey having this pirate radio station? That’s a very Mikey thing to do actually, I genuinely really like this as a concept.

Don't do drugs kids!

Yes! Bonesteel! I love this guy so much look at this goofball.

Oh he has a new girlfriend weapon

Are you... broadcasting this Mikey? Fight scenes don't really translate well to radio my dude...

So many shell necklaces in one shot! It sure is the 90s!

The Unknowables? Nice - somehow you managed to make your gang sound like an edgy TV drama from the 2010s.

''You hate Mikey's show" "I don't hate Michelangelo..." Awww! I know that saying you 'don't hate' your son isn't exactly cute but that line delivery and the fact that he doesn't like the show but wants to listen to it anyway because it's Mikey... 🥺

Venus and Raph not wanting to hang out with humans... valid. Same.

Splinter gets it too.

I see why the anti drug message of they're hosting a rave. Not like raves are exactly known for not being full of drugs really. So... raves are cool but drugs are not, got it? You can go to cool raves, but only if it's for charity and there are no drugs (or any kind of drinks or anything by the looks of things as well...)

I'm never going to get over how negative this Leo is. He always seems mad about having to help people? Who are you? What have you done with my blue boy?

That guy calling out the costumes... 😆

Ooh strobe effects.

Mikey has one of Those Hats.

"What's under that shell?" "Mace." Yeah you tell him Venus.

Bonesteel's fancy dress outfit is just so good though

Raph is finally having fun now he gets to fight lol. Wasn't that basically how it was in Secret of the Ooze too? He was miserable about being at a club but then he got to kick some ass and he was happy about that?

So many moral messages in this here episode. Don't hunt animals for sport guys! Protect endangered animals!

Episode 13

I loved that bit with Raph and Mikey just goofing around? Cute! Also it makes so much sense that Raph would think that having a cool car would be a key element to Batman being cooler than Superman lol. I love the chili pepper gum prank too, it's such a Mikey thing to do and then following it up by saying that he actually just really likes the taste of it as well? Love that!

Oh and it's plot relevant! Awesome, good job guys!

Queeease! Sarcastic little prick I missed him.

Honestly the more I watch of this show the more obvious it is that it's a live action cartoon. I get the feeling that some of the people who hate on this show are somehow not seeing that and expecting something more serious? Is it because it's live action??

Oh that's unsettling... Raph clone... is he a robot?? Like he's got to be a clone, that's what Quease was doing. But. He acts like a robot. And kind of makes robot noises?

Clean your teeth! Learn stuff! Moral messages! This show has value - don't worry parents and teachers of America!

The Green Menace...

"Make it so." Dragon Picard...

"Looks like the toaster escaped" Venus says the cutest things sometimes. 😊

"I think it's cute" - she's adorable.

Why with the burp sound effect?

Why is the eyeball making baby noises??

Yessss the sexy intros to the vehicles! Raph and roll! I missed you!

This clone thing has so much potential.

Why do they act like robots though?

"WhadidyaDOTOIM???" Quease's line delivery is just so good sometimes. 😘👌

Do they even know what clones are? I'm so confused... Like... they keep calling the clones "Robo [character name]". ????

Carbonised in liquid nitrogen? Is that a thing?

"You don't do science, you do evil" Aw, Donnie...

"Let's book..." wait. Leo...? Isn't there a bit in 2003 where the others figure out that Leo's been hijacked by Jammerhead because he would never say that? Lol...*

Episode 14

Batman and Robin poster oh noooo. That's two Batman mentions in the space of two episodes, and there was at least one before this...

Oh Wick i missed you. Please make friends with Mikey you're clearly a fan.

The 'we're fantastic never panic' line always gets me like... that's not a great lyric and also false

I love that Raph is getting cute little bonding scenes in these last couple of episodes. Mikey then Venus. Please continue this trend with all of them.

Leo is a such an idiot.

Little green lie...

"I've never told a lie in my life..." bro, come on.

You... eat them? You think listening to the radio is mutiny? So many things wrong with this dragon man.

Flush a stamped addressed envelope down the toilet lol

"Kiss my shell Leo NERDO." "Love to." ??? Guys??? Leo do you know how trash talking works???

"You don't count - you're family" - see??? They said it!!!! Mikey says this to Venus after she says that she and the other turtles and Splinter are Mikey's fans... so what about all that "we're not actually related so it's fine if we hit on the girl turtle" business? Make up your damn minds guys!

Aw Mikey...

How does this lie detector even work bro? You can just use a recording??

Why is Mikey acting like everyone is telling him he's wrong when they're all divided and most of them agree that there's a chance that Wick might be telling the truth?

Dragons can't spell. Or read.

"We do love your show, just Majesty wants to eat you" lol

Aw Donnie... smashing up his invention because he blames himself for getting Mikey into trouble... 😢

Tech bo...

We haven't had a suit up in a while either. I say 'suit up'. I mean they all grab their weapons.

Knock knock it's Leo

Oh that's definitely booby trapped come on bro

Yeah. It was booby trapped.

"At least I've cornered the bald green girl market" That's the spirit Mikey

"Tuddul. Book." wtf Leo. Also again with the book thing. I am going to find that clip from 2003...*

--

I missed Next Mutation so much! I do genuinely love this stupid show - it is not a well made show by any means, but it's fun!

* it was "bag it" not book it. Ah well.

[cornytrashlord]

🎇🧤 The angel works hard but the devil works harder

SSTMPS Day 3: Enemy

"As I said, you won't get anything out of me, my good sir."

🧤's lips curled into a pout. There was a hint of smug amusement in his expression.

He casually crossed his legs and leaned forward to stare straight into the angel's jewel-green eyes. Seeing how miffed the archangel was delighted the demon. "If I knew something, I would've told you by now." He tucked a lock of flaxen hair back against his pierced ear.

"We don't live by some kind of code, you know. You won't get anything out of me. So, why not let me go?" He batted his eyelashes and flashed🎇, the archangel, his most innocent smile— a smile that even🧤knew looked all wrong on his face.

It likely looked more like a mocking jeer if he were to be honest.

🎇leaned against the table separating the two. "You aren't exactly fooling anyone, you know. Even a lesser demon must know something ."

He flashed his newest conversation partner a carefree grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I have an eternity to wait for your confession."

"What? You want me to confess my love to you or something?"🧤shook his head mirthfully. "I commend you for managing to find me out here. But it doesn't matter how many times you ask. I. Don't. Know." He emphasized his words through a cocked brow. "I suppose we'll be sitting here together for an eternity?

Ah, the last thing I want is to be stuck with a hardheaded hero-of-the-people like you who won't even ask me for my name."

"And, are you going to tell me your name?" The archangel leaned back against the plush couch and wrinkled his nose. "This place kind of reeks, man."

The air indeed stank of stale sweat and vomit combined. The cheap perfume did not help with the number of bodies on the dance floor writhing to the booming music under blinding strobe lights. 🧤 wholeheartedly agreed with🎇on that. He didn't enjoy it any more than the angel did.

"I honestly wouldn't be here right now if you didn't choose to hide out in here."

🧤tutted. "What? So, Mr. Important like you comes all the way in here to pick on small fry like me? Boo." The lesser demon pursed his lips. "Also, the answer is no. Names are power after all."

He barked a laugh. "I'll cut you a deal, angel. I let you do anything you want with me, and you let me go?" He tilted his head questioningly, his smile never faltering despite the looming threat of an archangel breathing down his neck.

That seemed to catch🎇off-guard. "Come now. I'm just a little guy." He gulped, Adam's apple visibly bobbing at the gesture. Hah, Adam's apple. That's a good one. "What good would that offer do me?" Despite his words, he seemed a tad intrigued by what the demon was proposing.

🧤noticed how he was clearly also sizing him up, though more out of curiosity than desire. His Cheshire grin grew wider when he caught green eyes sliding down the bodice that dipped down low in the front. "Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, little guy," he huffed.

"I know you angels are always sooooo repressed. Let me help you loosen up a bit?" Well-manicured claws reached for the front of his top and pulled it slightly open, revealing pale, unmarred skin.

🎇's eyes widened. "Hey! What are you doing?!" He sprang out of his seat, closed the distance between them, and grabbed🧤's wrist in warning. With how close they were,🧤could smell the earthy scent of amber wood on him. Oh, and was that also the ocean? It matched his hair.

"What is wrong with you?! My seis0 angel eyes!" Despite how scandalized 🎇sounded, he was not so subtlely taking peeks down the blond's shirt. 🧤was almost preening from the attention.

"There's nothing wrong with me."🧤batted his eyelashes at him. "Your hands are quite big, aren't they? They say men with big hands have--" 🎇's cheeks flushed red, visible even under the dim lightning, at the offhand comment as he fumbled with🧤's shirt.

"Ah, is this conversation too much for you?" How cute. If only🎇didn't have the ability to crumble him into dust with a snap of his fingers if he so willed it.

🎇' hands were shaking as he helpfully fixed🧤 shirt back into place. He was an archangel, yes, but having to deal with a demon outright attempting to seduce him was new.

🧤blinked in amusement. "What's wrong? Already too much for you? There's more where that came from." The demon had no way out of their conversation anyway and decided to shoot his shot.

As if a switch had been flipped, he pushed🎇back into his seat and climbed into his lap to run his purple claws gently down 🎇's clothed torso in a teasing manner but not going any further than his belt. "You haven't pushed me away," 🧤commented, oh so helpfully.

🎇shut his eyes. "That's an astute observation there, my guy."

"Yeah, I pride myself on my biggest brain."

"Let's see how far you can go, demon."

"Well, godspeed dumbfuck."

[im-houstons-problem]

Could you do hcs of Johnny with a fasionable s/o with a flashy sense of style. Like they wear lots of different interesting patterns. Very bright & colorful looks. Everything coordinates and matches. (A good reference is fran fine, love her style it's so fun) If you could use She/her pronouns I would appreciate it.

These Boots Are Made For Walkin'

Pairing ;; johnny x fashionable!reader Pronouns ;; she/her Warnings ;; none

A/N ;; fran fine <3

you never

and i mean NEVER

ceased to impress him

he adored each and every uniqe outfit you'd greet him in

he'll go up to the guys all giddy

and they'll roll their eyes with a little smile all "what she wearin' today johnnycake?"

and he'll start rambling about your colour block jumper, mesh jacket, checkered blazer, and so forth

when you're wearing stripes, or anything with a lined pattern he likes to trace his finger along it

he's just ✨ mesmerised ✨

he never understood how you could pull it all together

it felt like there was so much going on your shirt alone, but your outfit as whole blended together so nicely

he'd scrap togther what little money he could to buy you a pair of tan striped pants and a padded muscle tee

he felt so proud whenever he saw you wear them (seperate or together)

"ya see that two-bit? i got her that outift :)))"

while he loved your bold style, it didn't stop him from making little remarks every now and then (he's sassy okay, no one is safe from his wit, not even his partner)

"the rave would like their strobe lights back-"

he of course told you how great you looked after

however, sometimes he felt rather lacking himself

he cycled through different jeans jackets and black shirt

you on the other hand had a whole arsonal of polka dots and fleece

you notice he was hesitant on more public dates

you always thought it had something to do with his greaser status

(for the sake of this, reader is more middle class)

but something about how he shrank more in his seat or booth always seemed off to you

you thought maybe he was ashamed of being with you

when you voiced this thought it was then that johnny confessed what it really was

it was understandable

but you never really thought of that, nor could you blame him

you'd tried offering johnny some spare cash in the past

but it never felt right to him

and it wasn't like there were many sources of income open to him

he'd tried but he was either denied or some socs lingered around the store longer than necessary

so he was left scrummaging through what was left of his ma's wallet or hustling people in poker

both options less than safe

so he only did it enough to get by

and getting by didn't cover more "fashionable" outfits

after a long talk (and some more) you had somewhat got it through to him that it didn't matter to you

to make him feel just a little better

you rifled through your dad's closet, finding a blazer from his youth that was just about johnny's size

"for date nights"

"for date nights?"

"yeah"

"does seven work for you tonight?"

you answered with a quick peck on his cheek, saying you had to run back home to get ready

johnny's smile was wide as ever when the waiter called you a "fine looking couple" gesturing to your outfits

[getlostsquidward]

glimpse of us

pairings: agatha harkness x reader; maria hill x reader; agatha harkness x wanda maximoff

a/n: part two is possible, but i can't promise a happy ending. i'm living for the angst

summary: agatha is convinced that she's fine and she's moved on—she has wanda now.

but as she watches you in maria's grasp, all she can think about is the love that you shared, the way it was.

warnings: angst, hurt no comfort i'm sorry (i'm not), exes to ???, not canon compliant at all, no happy ending, everyone is miserable

Strobes of different colors fill the sky as the Avengers along with the reinforcement fight off the enemies. Agatha never was interested in doing this, more so aligning herself with the so-called heroes, preferring to be on her own. It just so happened that Wanda is an Avenger and had mentioned her to them, along with a painfully familiar person they had mentioned in passing—a name that she had not heard from in a long time, the Avengers' unknown ace hidden up their sleeve that she couldn't say no to.

Wanda is the reason she's here, not you.

She desperately tried not to get too excited in stepping foot onto the compound and tried not to get too excited about seeing you again. Agatha desperately lies to herself that she only wants to see how your magic has progressed since she left.

Agatha wasn't supposed to be excited.

But she did, seeing you do a number of spells that is above your age and station. You have come so far, and her heart swells with pride.

It takes Agatha back to the old days; her powers and yours beaming across the clearing of the forest you used to go to as she teaches you how to use them. The green wisps of your magic would always eclipse the lush meadows. She has fallen in love with every shade of that color since.

Her eyes fluttered to its source, only for it to vanish.

As Agatha looked in your direction, her eyes widened seeing your body take the hit of the scepter, all in slow motion, like time stood still, the loud noises in the battlefield completely muffled out by her heart ringing out of her ear. She could hear your breath go shallow, could feel your pulse weaken, your magic fading out as every millisecond passes.

She called your name, your fear-stricken eyes flickering to her before you hit the ground. Her lips tremble as she sees you close your eyes and slip into oblivion. Air was knocked out of her, she can't find her voice.

She could not feel anything but worry and fear at the moment, and couldn't care less about the rest of the Avengers on the field. The older witch didn't know the extent of the scepter's power, but she had an inkling that it is powered by an infinity stone, making her worry increase tenfold.

Just as she was about to flick her hand to teleport to you faster and catch you, someone beats her to it.

Maria Hill wraps you in her arms, yelling at her earpiece and checking you for any injury, protecting you. It was once her promise to herself. You didn't need protecting, she knows you're as strong as she is, but Agatha took it upon herself that she was ready to burn the world for you because you're worth more than the entire damn planet for her.

Agatha freezes at her spot as she watches the Avengers provide cover for her as she carries you towards the quinjet. 

She should feel relieved that you're safe for now, but she couldn't feel anything, she's numbed—or more accurately, she couldn't dare put a label on them.

If she would ever do so, it would be jealousy, confusion, and anger.

Agatha is jealous because she should be the one who has her arms around you. She should be the one on your side, holding you, embracing you. She's confused because she shouldn't feel jealous—not when she's the one who caused this. She's been long stripped of the right to be jealous since she ended things between you half a decade ago, leaving your heart smashed to pieces and taking with her a huge part of you.

You too had taken a piece of Agatha with you. Ending the relationship years ago tore Agatha's heart, and it also tears now seeing you in the arms of another. 

Agatha is confused because she should not feel this way about you, her former lover, because she now has someone in her life.

Agatha Harkness is angry at herself, because as her current lover kneels with her and cups her face with such worry in her eyes, she could only see your e/c eyes and the way they shined as you look at her like she's the only person that mattered. She could only feel the warmth of your palm against her skin and the way it spreads to her chest, your magic perfectly resonating with hers. 

Above all else, Agatha is hurting.

Tears blur her vision, her lover swiping them with her thumb as it falls to her cheeks. Her vision clears as she blinks, the faraway memory of you fading away and she finds olive green eyes staring at her. Agatha blinks the remaining tears away and clears her throat.

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt?” Wanda asks, gently helping the older witch up. “We're done here. They're waiting for us on the quinjet.”

“How–how's Y/N?”

“They say she's unconscious but stable. She needs to be checked by Dr. Cho just to make sure.”

Agatha only nods, steeling herself once again, not ready to see you like that—with her. “You go. I'll see you at the compound.”

Wanda opens her mouth but Agatha disappears with a puff of purple smoke, leaving the redhead alone. Her shoulders sag as she sighed, running toward the rest of the team.

//

Agatha leaned against the wall, her arms crossed against her chest as she watched the Avengers gather around you. You gained your consciousness back after four days, leaving everyone scared and worried. A SHIELD agent came running towards the common room alerting everyone that you were awake, removing a huge thorn on her throat. 

She keeps her eyes on the floor as everyone coddles you. She refuses to look as Maria holds your hand, where it should have been—

“Agatha.”

Agatha thinks she might cry over the sound of you calling her name. Even after all this time, it still has an affectionate ring to it.

Too deep in her mind, she didn't notice the room was already cleared out minutes ago, eventually leaving the two of you alone. “Hmm?” She could only hum in response, afraid that her voice might break.

“Thank you.”

She looks up and meets your eyes, her brows furrowing in confusion. “For what?”

You stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, and Agatha would freeze time if she could.

“You were about to come for me, weren't you? Maria just came to me first.”

“Oh. I'm just doing what I'm here for.”

Agatha's urge to come closer, to reach for you was beyond words. She aches to brush her fingers through your hair, to take your hand to hers and rub your thumb.

“Okay,” you replied with a tight-lipped smile. She's staring at your eyes, but she can't fathom what lies behind them. Agatha does know that your smile was genuine, unlike the ones you've given her after the first time seeing each other after a long time. They were all forced and strained, given out of politeness. Conversations were kept to a minimum, both trying to be civil to each other so no one would be suspicious that the two of you go way back.

“Okay...” the brunette witch trails off, unsure if she should end the brief conversation at that. “...get well soon. These idiots are insufferable without you.”

Agatha disappears, remnants of purple and the smell of lavender filling your senses, lulling you back to sleep. 

//

The harsh sunlight hits your face as you open your eyes, instantly covering your eyes with your hand. A figure beside you reaches for them, brings it to her face, and kisses your palm. She hovers over you, effectively blocking the sun. Her dark hair ruffles and sways against the ocean breeze.

You couldn't make out her whole face, still blinded by the sun, but the glimmer in her eyes as she stared at you cannot even compare to how the sun shines. Her eyes are the color of the sky and sea, the prettiest you've ever seen.

tags: @ilovehotactresses @midnight-lestrange @minszhuo @tr333sus @thenastoaster @apricxtt @pianogirl2121 @thenazwife @poetsdeadxo

[hops-hunny]

College Girls

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2k

Request: anon “How about Rodrick invites the reader to a party (he’s been crushing on her for the longest) but she plays hard to get and at the party her friends try to convince her to give him a chance and later it leads to them playing 7 minutes in heaven and they confess to each other and it goes from there ;) it could end in smut or fluff your way ly <3”

Summary: (college!au) College girls and their games, good thing Rodrick loves to play.

Warnings: Mentions of weed and alcohol, making out, teasing

A/N: Ok I forgot to make them confess but it’s implied sorry anon. I still hope you enjoy it!

If there was one thing Rodrick knew, college was a shit ton different than high school was. However, that wasn’t a bad thing. Unlimited booze and bud, hot chicks, and parties that never ended? He was practically in heaven! He had grown into himself, feeling more confident than ever since Heather had rejected him his senior year. In fact, he couldn’t recall the last time he thought about her but if he had to pinpoint it, it was a few months ago when she had hit him up, begging the boy to give her a chance. Oh the irony behind that. That was another good thing about college. In high school, all the girls thought he was just some loser who wasted too much time on a band that would always be shit. 

But with years of experience under their belt and more free time to practice, Löaded Diaper was beginning to become a big deal in their rinky dink shithole off a small town. God was he glad too because with clout, also came hot girls in skirts that barely covered their ass. The opportunity for endless amounts of hookups was an absolute dream come true, but all dreams lose their shine eventually. When fucking became a mere thing to pass the time between class, gigs, and parties, he realized that it wasn’t as great as he thought it was. He was starting to crave something more, something like or, someone like- her.

God she was a babe. Rodrick still remembered the first time he saw her. Löaded Diaper was doing another house gig, everyone in the crowd dancing and moving to the intense music. And all of a sudden, a strobe light glossed over her perfectly, almost like a halo of blue light and his eyes were hooked. She was there with her friends, one of them whispering something in her ear which caused her to lock eyes with his. Pretty (e/c) eyes meeting his own brown ones. It was almost perfect, almost. As soon as they had finished the last note of their song, without missing a beat she swiftly made her exit and he made his way after her. Rodrick jumped off the stage, chasing after her and her friends all the way till they reached the curb. He grabbed her arm causing the girl to look back.

“Hey, uh, did you enjoy the gig?” He asked, running his fingers through his sweaty hair nervously. He felt his nerves rise even more at the sound of her friends’ giggles.

“I wouldn’t have stayed the whole gig if I didn’t, would I?” she retorted, rolling her eyes as she began to open the passenger door of the black mercedes.

“Yeah, I guess that was a dumb question..” he trailed off as she closed her door. His eyes widened at the fact he hadn’t gotten her name prompting him to take off after the car. He felt relieved as the girl rolled down her window, looking up at him through her thin framed sunglasses. “Wait! I didn’t get your name, I’m Rodrick.” he smirked, watching as she pulled her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head.

“Didn’t give it.” she quipped, sending him a wink as her friend took off into the distance. Who was she? All he knew about her was that she had a mouth on her and lived on the other side of campus. A lot of girl’s fit that description so it wasn’t easy asking around about her. However, as he stood here in the corner of the party his fraternity was throwing, he’d recognize a pair of nice legs like that from anywhere. His eyes took in her appearance. She had on a denim mini skirt, black turtleneck and a pair of knee high boots that matched. The boy had to practically stop himself from gawking at how good she looked, curves clinging to every bit of the form fitting outfit. He cleared his throat as his friend nudged him, looking to see what he wanted.

“Uh don’t look now, but I think that girl you were eye fucking is definitely eye fucking you back dude. Is that the chick from the gig a few weeks ago that you won’t shut up about?" Rodrick glared at the man, shoving him into the wall before walking towards her. He watched as her friends “coincidentally” all began to head off in other directions, leaving her to offer him a flirty little smile behind the drink she’d been nursing.

“Well if it isn’t the little drummer boy! To what do I owe the pleasure, Rodrick?” she purred, sitting down her now empty cup. She stepped forward, leaving them to be pressed chest to chest. It could easily be blamed on the crowded room but the two knew otherwise. He smirked back at her, wrapping his arms around her waist securely.

“I’m a simple man. I see a pretty girl sending looks my way, I come.” his eyes widened as he began to overthink his word choice. “N-not like that! Like I come over not like cum in my pants. I-I’m not like some virgin...well I’m not some man whore either! I don’t fuck around a lot. Not like the option isn’t there bu-” he quit his nervous ramblings at the sound of her laughter. He relaxed, smiling as the girl wrapped his arms around her neck. He began to lean in thinking she would ask him for a kiss but instead she missed his lips, putting hers next to his ear before whispering,

“Wanna dance?” Before he could answer, the girl (who’s name he still didn’t catch) was dragging him to the dance floor, moving his hands to rest on her hips. He tried to keep his movements as fluid as possible. It took him a bit but eventually his movements matched hers, as they swayed to the beat of the song. She pressed her head against his shoulder, looking up at him as she continued the movements against his pelvic area. “I love this song, it’s one of my favorites.” she whispered. He didn’t know if it was because he was cross faded or his enjoyment of the movements but D’Evils by SiR was beginning to become one of his favorite songs too. How could it not when there was such a pretty girl pressed against his front?

“Yeah? It suits you.” he muttered, leaning his head down to hover his own chapped lips above the girl’s soft gloss covered ones. She hummed in agreement, both of them slowly inching towards each other before she stopped, letting out a cheeky giggle.

“Did you really think I was going to kiss you that easily? You’ve gotta earn it.” She said, dragging a manicured hand against the skin of his neck. He shivered a bit as goosebumps formed, watching as she disappeared back into the crowd. He swore some, groaning as he fiddled with the growing bulge in his jeans. Was he out of the game for too long or had girls always been this hard to get? Either way, he didn’t care. Rodrick was gonna get this girl and her name by the end of the night if it was the last thing he ever did. He broke out of his thoughts, keeping sight of her figure making its way through the beaded curtain which led to the basement of the large frat house. Quickly he chased after her, trying to keep up with her. And, as if on purpose, every time he’d get close she’d flash him that breathtaking smile and continue on her path. Finally, she reached her supposed destination, a small group of people on couches, discussing the plans to play something. 

“So, what’s the game?” He asked, causing everyone to look up at him as he sat on the couch farthest from her. He looked at the bottle in the center of the table, proud of himself and his seating choice. The further he was away, the more likely the bottle was to land on the pretty thing across from him.

“7 minutes in heaven. You down?” A brunette girl asked, a flirty look in her buzzed eyes. He ignored her small attempt at an advance, nodding as he locked eyes with the girl of the hour. He shot her a wink, smirking as she rolled her eyes, biting her lip to hide the smile that was making its way onto her face. For someone so adamant about playing this game of cat and mouse, she seemed to be fighting off her feelings very harshly. None of that mattered now though. If there was a god, he hoped he’d be on his side. Never had he wanted to be stuffed inside a muggy dark closet with someone so badly.

“Of course I’m down. Do I look like a pussy to you?” he asked, watching as the (h/c) haired girl opened her mouth. He gave her a pointed look, tilting his head at her. “Don’t answer that, legs.” The girl looked surprised at the nickname but didn’t say anything, trailing her acrylic nails up the curve of her thigh. His brown eyes followed curiously, jumping slightly as she closed her legs quickly giving him a mocking pout. Tonight was going to be a long night.

-------------------------------------------------

Round after round was filled with surprises, none involving Rodrick or the mystery girl of his affections. Sometimes, the two people involved would cheer or jump up excitedly, ceasing the moment that they were desperately waiting for. Other times they would groan in disgust and hell, he couldn’t blame him with the hygiene of some of these people. Have they ever even heard of a shower, deodorant? Only their BO could tell. However, his odds grew more and more as it was finally his turn to spin the bottle. He picked it up, kissing the empty beer bottle as he made up some prayer. He let out a deep breath before spinning the bottle. As he watched it spin, the only thought he could seem to form was, ‘Please, please please. Cmon, cmon, cmon!’

Finally the bottle began to halt, making a rumbling noise as it stopped. His eyes followed the nose of it, letting out an internal cheer as his eyes met the (e/c) eyes from across from him. He pulled up his jeans before walking over to the girl, holding a hand out to her. She eyed it before smirking up at him, allowing her to pull him up. Rodrick looked down at her hand before tangling his fingers with her own, pulling her towards the closet. Once they both were in there, silence overcame them leaving the muffled music from upstairs to be the filler between silent space. He cleared his throat some, catching the shorter girl’s attention.

“Sooo, um. Would this count as earning it?” He quipped, giving her a flirty grin. The girl rolled her eyes before moving closer to him, pulling him down to her own height as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Rodrick wasted no time, pulling the girl by her hips and planting his on hers. The kiss was everything he’d hope it’d be. Passionate, hot, and filled with every bit of desire that had built up over the course of the party. He nibbled at her lip, causing a moan to slip from her lips. He smirked a bit, pulling away some to look into her eyes a bit.

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting you to be a good kisser. You looked like you would give me a lot of teeth and too much tongue.” she giggled some, tugging his bottom lip between her teeth before releasing it. He rolled his eyes, smirking as he leaned in, nibbling on her neck a bit. He felt victory overcome him at the soft whimper that came from her lips.

“My pride’s a bit wounded, princess.” he purred, lifting her up as he pinned her against the wall. He leaned back in for another kiss, this one more deep and intense than the last. He groaned softly as she tangled her fingers in his hair, gripping at it slightly. He slid his tongue over her bottom lip, quickly tangling it with hers when she opened her mouth. They’re tongues danced a bit, fighting for dominance before he won. He absorbed her moans, sucking on her tongue as he slid a hand under her skirt, stroking the skin of her upper thighs. Rodrick noted how soft her skin was before gripping at it harshly, stroking her hips with his thumbs.

Just as he slid his hands under her shirt, a knock broke them out of their kiss. He groaned in annoyance, pulling away and fixing her clothes for her as the door was ripped open. The (e/c) eyed girl was the first to walk out, looking back at him as if she had something to say.

“(Y/n).” she said, causing him to look at her in confusion. “My name? It’s (Y/n). I hope this isn’t a habit of yours, making out with girls whose names you don’t even know.” she said, looking up at him expectantly. His mouth opened and closed as he stuttered, searching for the words to say. He cleared his throat before grabbing her hand, beginning the path to his own room.

“Not anymore it isn’t.”

[artxyra]

The Return of the Premier Chaotique

Marinette was only eight years old when her primary school life changed for the better.

On that fateful day, in Mlle. Gilbertine’s classroom was the introduction of a new transfer student. He introduced himself as Damian; there was no last name. And if there was one, Gilbertine made sure she didn’t say a word of it.  

To Marinette, Nino, Chloe, Nathaniel, and Kim, he was an odd boy. Someone that would fit right into their group after a push, as Damian stressed for no social interactions with anyone.

During the early weeks of his stay, Marinette had caught him several times engaging in lonesome activities, whether they were in the classroom or out in the field messing around. Marinette, being the outgoing child that she was, began to plot.

Created from that plotting period was her life’s mission to befriend the emotionless kid.

It was hard at first.

She and the others tried tricking the young man into hopscotch matches, and when that didn’t work, it was a game of red light, green light. Occasionally, Nino and Kim would challenge Damian to dance battles.

Damian was very much against the childish games claiming that they were beneath him, but humored them into defeat.

That was until Marinette decided on a shooting game with water guns and makeshift go-carts out of bike parts. Damian’s eyes lit up with excitement, and Marinette knew right then and there that she finally fulled her goal.

After being soaked from head to toe and laughing amongst friends, Marinette and the others swore Damian into their friend group, thus changing their lives forever.

Soon newer and crazier games began to take over the classroom of Mlle. Gilbertine.

The moment Nino would bring out his portable CD player and the music began to boom out of the speakers, everyone knew what was about to happen.  

One day, while the group was in the school’s pool area pretending to be sea monsters attacking each other with kickboards and pool noodles, they were officially dubbed the “Premier Chaotique” cult. As they were youthful and the material they came up with was more chaotic than anything the future Hawkmoth could ever create.

Everyone knew that Marinette and Damian were the leaders. Together they oozed power, as Marinette was their strategist while Damian was the chief.

Chloe was their lawyer and location scout. The blonde knew what areas had cameras and heavy guarding. Kim was their chaotic developer. He knew what methods were more chaotic than the rest. Kim never failed to disappoint. Nino was their sound design and videographer in some cases. His love for filmmaking and DJing started here and continues to grow. Nathaniel was the tagger as he made sure every graffiti they did was perfect.

Nothing could ruin these kids.  

Mlle. Gilbertine, bless her soul, was determined to get the Premier Chaotique cult under control, but they were slick and made plans at random. She remembers the day when empty ice cream cups filled her classroom. Every desk was covered, and nothing could explain the appearance of snow sleds in the class.

It was no rumor that the mini cult managed to create their own little snow resort using ice cream and shave ice. It was a pain to clean up.

Marinette remembers the days when the mini cult would paint the city red with flowers and chaotic goodness. Or turning the entire city into a roller skate derby.

It’s a miracle that the cops never brought their parents into the investigation. Then again, with a child as pure as Marinette in the lead, people would fall over when they saw her smile.

Their significant achievement was when the school’s kitchen managed to catch on fire during a lunch period. During the evacuation, the group somehow managed to slip through the adults and back into the cafeteria.

Kim had brought marshmallows that day.

When the firefighters entered to put out the flames, the six children greeted them with wooden sticks eating s’mores and telling scary stories.

That fire had been their last valuable success because they experienced the worst nightmare a couple of days later, Damian had to go back to his home country.

It was heartbreaking for everyone within the cult but groundbreaking for the city.

Marinette fell into depression along with the others. After a month without Damian, they vowed to never speak of the best year of their life unless they were ever to meet Damian again.

It was no secret that Marinette had a crush on the foreign boy, so the cult disassembles along with any memories of Damian and the cult.

Years passed since that day.

Chloe took it upon herself to bully Marinette when they had entered college, as those who knew them in their younger days forgot that they were ever friends. Marinette took up fashion designing and making her seem like the perfect student. Nathaniel started working on comics based on their adventures. Nino stayed friends with all but Chloe and continued with his calling in music production. Kim began busying himself with sports, specifically swimming.

Soon the name that used to strike fear in the hearts of the Paris citizens began to fade away into a false memory.

Little did anyone know, the spirit of the Premier Chaotique cult lives on and would ignite in a blaze of fire.

At sixteen, Marinette works her butt off to make their end-of-the-school-year trip a reality.

The trip was not for the approval of her classmate, which has gone stale but for her sanity. Three years of being Ladybug have put a toll on her, and she plans to take advantage of the lack of akuma attacks going on.

When the acceptance letter landed in her hands, her parents swear they saw a boulder lifted off their daughter’s shoulders. She was smiling more and appeared less stressed than she had ever been since finding out the school board decided to move teachers with their students as a handful of teachers left Paris, some even left France altogether.

Her allies (remaining friends) were the first to know about the trip to Gotham, New Jersey, and they cheered happily for her. Lately, someone else has taken the credits for her work.

The day before the trip, Marinette rundown the patrol routes, and emergency protocols with Luka and Kagami, ensuring the safety of Paris if and when Hawkmoth decided to go active while the rest of the team was away.

She then goes on to convincing Kaalki to come with her to Gotham only to be used as an emergency. Marinette was ready to leave Paris and head to Gotham.

Upon entering the streets of Gotham, a cold chill runs down everyone’s spines aside from the former mini cult members. Too Mme. Bustier, the chill was all too familiar, bringing up memories of the kids that terrorized the streets before Hawkmoth. She looks around to see nothing out of place before promptly calling out her students so they would make it to the hotel.

Everyone who felt that chill had every right to be wary.

On the first day, everything seemed fine, but when you leave nearly all the members of Premier Chaotique alone for a moment, well, chaos was sure to happen.

Chloe and Marinette had put aside their differences during the Lila era of the classroom reign. Even after it was over, they managed to remain friends, rekindling the essence of primary friendship. The boys joined in on them not long afterward.

Plans were made but not yet enforced. It did not feel right, and they knew why– it was because they lacked their chief, the one and only Damian.

~☾★☽~

All Marinette wanted was a cup of coffee, but instead, she got something--someone much more pleasing.

Frozen in place, she calls out a single name, “Dames?” The dark-haired male turned around; she couldn’t breathe. Her eyes soften at the sight of her first crush. He hadn’t changed by much, though he was now taller than her.

“Mars?” That nickname sent the French-Asian teen running into the arms of the Ice Prince himself. Instead of pushing her away, he wraps his arms around her.  

Time froze in that café for several reasons, but the main one was definitely because they just witnessed Damian Wayne hugging someone willing.

Their embrace ends with them staring into each other’s eyes. It felt surreal. They couldn’t find the words to say, but they didn’t have to.

Life continues in the cafe as Damian leads Marinette away from the flashes of lights. It wasn’t long before Damian’s phone began to blow up with notifications. He turns his phone off and stuffs it back into his pocket.

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, Marinette pulls Damian in closer. Lifting herself onto her tip-toes, she whispers, “The others are here too.” into his ear. She steps away to see what she has unleashed, hoping that nearly a decade away from each other hasn’t altered their relationship.

This time it was Damian who smirks, bringing Marinette closer to him. “Mm, shall be bring Gotham to its knees?”

They share a smirk that ends with an explosion, thus, reigniting the Premier Chaotique cult with a burning passion for mayhem.

They decided to meet that night after hours.

Music blared in the streets of Gotham, seemingly close to the classroom’s hotel near Wayne Enterprise.

The members of Premier Chaotique strut down the middle of the streets in inflatable dinosaur suits dancing to the remixes that played from the boombox on one of the dino’s skateboards (Nino’s).  

Jamming to Bats @crazyforbats Did anyone else wake up to music and dancing dinos last night?

Bearbe @Bearbe Replying to @crazyforbats THAT WAS REAL!!??? I THOUGHT I WAS HULLACINATING

Krazie Kay @gokaykaer [A one-minute video with various strobe lighting colors flashing around and six dinosaurs doing the Cha-Cha-Slide] I swear I just saw @thebloodwayne for a split second.

Vera Pitts @vera_pitts [A short video of inflatable dinosaurs chaotically dancing to the Harlem Shake.] I thought this trend of over and done *crying emoji*

By the morning, Twitter was blowing up with various videos and gifs of the events that happened the night before. The only people who weren’t affected by the popularity were the people who were a part of it.

At Wayne Manor, Bruce could already feel a migraine coming as his two oldest play the videos repeatedly in the main room.

Damian scoffs at his family members, while Dick complains about why they haven’t thought of that for a family outing. It’s all about class, Dick; it’s all about class.  

Alfred, being all-knowing, takes notice of Damian's hidden smirks and recent purchase from his account at a party store. Nothing to worry about in this household. However, Damian asking him about where to find used pocket bikes (mini motorcycles) and wire rope reels was troubling.

The next night began the fears of every Parisian that experienced the reign. Blessed that it wasn't not happening in their city for once.

Per their plan assignments, Chloe and Kim found the buildings necessary for the zip line. Nino was in charge of setting up the equipment with the help of Nathaniel. Damian’s task was to get the bikes and zip line wire. Marinette’s job was to keep the class and others from finding out their plan.  

Once everything was ready, the Premier Chaotique entered their playground wearing hooded leotards (or bodysuits) with matching latex masks stretched over their eyes.

Kim went first down the zip line as Damian race down the streets on the bike. Initially, they were going to use the bikes, but the zip line couldn’t hold the weight of the bike and the person on it, so they turned it into a race instead. Of course, they put challenges throughout the route to make it more even.  

Their mayhem took a turn for the best when someone had called the cops, causing the for once silent night into a regular night of crime. Instead of stopping, like normal people, the mini cult went on a high-speed race against the GCPD.

Gotham’s Twitter users were having a blast with the events. It was the best and bravest thing to surface since Batman, though some were very vocal with their opposing thoughts.

The GCPD never caught the Premier Chaotique members, and they went on as if nothing happened.  

It was during the tour of Wayne Enterprise that the Premier Chaotique members learned Damian’s last name. He was an effing Wayne.

Marinette had asked Damian what his last name was when they were eight, and he replied nonchalantly with something along the lines of not being a Wayne until he was ten. Afterward, they continue hanging out and plotting throughout the tour.

After seeing their younger brother interact with teens his age, Dick specifically begs Bruce to invite the group while the rest stands there in shock. The sight of seeing Damian doing what they thought was impossible needed to go into the history books.

While it was a momentous occasion for Damian’s brothers, it was a reality check for Mme. Bustier. Her screams echo against the halls of WE as buried memories of the chaos awakens.

She stared pointedly at Marinette in denial. There was no way her star student was in the cult that did so much damage all those years ago. When Chloe, Nino, Kim, and quiet Nathaniel joined her, Caline started to feel faint. She immediately excused herself to call her therapist. Her wails for help could reach the lobby.

Bruce unknowingly invited even more chaos into his household that night.

It didn’t take Chloe and Marinette much to convince their teachers to let the five of them stay with Mr. Wayne for the night in hopes of “catching up” with Damian.

After getting the approval from Mr. Wayne and their parents, she agreed, secretly ecstatic that they wouldn’t be in her care for the next several hours.

~☾★☽~

“I’m bored. Let’s play a prank?” Kim randomly shouts, playing catch with himself, when they were all staring out the TV waiting for something good to come on.

“What do you have in mind?” Marinette asks, making her way over to Damian. He pushes her away, knowing that she’ll use him as a throne.

“Hey Dames, do you own go-carts are something of a familiar nature?”

Damian thinks about it for a minute, “Tt, father wouldn’t dare let those things in the house. We can prank my brothers. Scaring them would bring me joy.”

“Well I have a few ideas, we can use.” Chloe states, pulling out the book of mischief from her purse.

They all huddle over the book with smirks on their faces.

-----

A retouch version of Request #9.