#im sure i fucked this one up but this is for a bit so

[ghostgirl-22]

im imagining one of the many times patrick is begging to fuck art he suddenly says something like “just let me put the tip in at least baby” and art isn’t in the right mind to see why he shouldn’t cause theyre grinding against each other and licking into each other’s mouths so it shouldn’t be much different. patrick cums so quickly too

Whoops anon this is gonna be a 2 for 1. I hope you don’t mind <3 But Patrick begging made me think it’s perfect for the holiday challenge too so… here’s Art staying over a few nights during winter break. Post Patrick dragging him to his dad’s office Christmas party where him and his brother dressed up like Santa (for some Christmas themed reason) sorry this is all over the place anon. <3

Deck the halls 🎄💫

Day 15: Begging

CW: 18+ !NSFW!

Pair: Artrick

—-

“I think you’re so pretty,” Patrick whispers, he’s still wearing the santa hat, and coat, drunk on spiked egg nog. His dad doesn’t even celebrate Christmas but his office sure knows how to put on a Christmas party.

“Shut up,” Art says, but he’s smiling his stupid pretty little half smile.

They stole candy canes from the Christmas tree in the lobby of his dad’s office, even though Patrick’s stupid brother said they couldn’t. And thank god, because Art’s still sucking on his. Lips stained red, cheeks all flushed— Patrick meant it when he kept telling him all night he’d make the perfect Santa’s elf. “You just blush so yummy,” He teased relentlessly, “especially after Santa fucks you.” That was when Art pushed him away.

Art’s all risky business right now, nothing on but his dress shirt, boxers and socks. His slacks are draped over the chair in the corner of Patrick’s bedroom. He’d wanted them off since he spilled a bit of egg nog on them and Patrick teased him for the way it stained.

Patrick grabs at Arts tie and he steps closer to where Patrick’s sitting on his bed, stopping between Patrick’s legs as Patrick loosens it.

“Come sit on Santa’s lap,” Patrick says, grinning.

Art rolls his eyes, but he’s so soft about it. “You’re so stupid when you drink. You know that right?”

“Come on, sit on my lap. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“The perfect backhand,” Art says.

“I’m Santa, not Jesus,” Patrick points out and Art shoves him. Patrick laughs and grabs onto his arm pulling him closer still, takes him by the waist and lifts at his dress shirt. “Come on, lemme fuck you.”

“Don’t do that— they’re right next door,” Art says, pulling the candy cane from his mouth and turning to look at the closed door like Patrick’s brother and his wife are just going to appear in his room out of thin air. When they don’t, he pops it back into his mouth. Patrick keeps touching him. He’s not concerned about how close they are, they’re really boring and Patrick is 100 percent certain they’re probably already asleep.

But he tries to ease Arts nerves anyway. “Please. I promise I’ll be quiet,” Patrick sighs, talking to Art’s pretty waist. Art’s got the perfect little belly button. Patrick presses his lips there and feels Art suck it in as he tangles his fingers into Patrick’s hair.

“What are you doing?” He giggles cause he’s ticklish and he pushes Patrick’s head away for the same reason.

“Trying to fuck you,” Patrick sighs. He gets to his feet and he’s suddenly in Art’s face. Art steps back but Patrick steps closer and pulls the candy cane out of Art’s mouth. He presses his lips there instead. Art opens up for him right away. His kisses are sweet like peppermint. And he’s licking and sucking on Patrick’s tongue as if he tastes like candy too. Patrick settles on the edge of the bed again excited at the way Art’s following him. He crawls onto Patrick’s lap so he can keep kissing. Patrick’s hard. Like cut diamonds hard, he’s been halfway there all night. He’s going insane at Art’s tendency to mindlessly grind against it. He’s imagining thrusting inside him, imagining how Art would feel, how he’d react. Art’s already so sensitive all over. Almost like his body was made for sex, Patrick just wants to test it out.

Patrick lays back on the bed resting on his elbows and he puts the candy in his own mouth watching as Art blinks himself into awareness now that he’s not kissing Patrick’s mouth anymore. Patrick can tell he still wants to grind. His hips aren’t moving fast but he’s still gently rolling them along the bulge in Patrick’s pants.

”Fucking please.” Patrick says, quietly. “All I want for Christmas is just to nut in you just once.”

“You’re so fucking…” Art licks his lips. He’s breathless. Kiss swollen. Flushed. Every time Patrick thinks he couldn’t possibly want him more, he gets prettier.

“I will fucking do anything,” Patrick begs. He says, undoing the buttons on Arts dress shirt.

“Patrick,” Art says matter of factly. “Your brother is next door.”

“And I’ll be so quiet. And if you need to you can moan into my pillow. Please. Pretty please. I wanna fill you up and watch it spill out.”

“You’re disgusting,” Art says softly, but he’s squirming.

“I know, I know I am,” Patrick grins, he bites into the candy cane, finishing it off. “But you like it.”

God the blushing. The way he can’t sit still. Patrick hopes he doesn’t lose it in his fucking pants before he even gets inside or all this begging will be for nothing.

“I um— I don’t think I can— your so— so much, Patrick, ” Art says, suddenly shy.

Patrick can’t help himself. He’s grinning like crazy. “Just tell me it’s too big. Tell me it won’t fit.”

“You’re such a freak, ‘m not sayin that,” Art says, he’s blushing something fierce. “I’m just saying…”

“Fine fuck it… what if it’s just the tip? Lemme put in the tip.”

Art sighs, a little smirk on his lips. “You’re so fucking obsessed.”

“Yeah well fucking look at you, princess. Of course I’m obsessed.” Patrick groans. He’s undone all the buttons on Arts shirt and he’s fixating on Art’s bare chest, his perky pink nipples.

Art rolls his eyes at the “princess” comment and Patrick grabs at either side of his shirt and pulls him into another kiss. It’s only moments before Art’s gasping into his mouth and Patrick’s sure if they keep this up he’s gonna come hard in his pants. He rolls them over so he can get Art on his back. And slowly, he pulls back from the kiss. Art’s following, sitting up on his elbows.

“Can I please? Just the tip, baby, pretty pretty please?” Patrick begs.

Art bites his lip and then nods. Patrick doesn’t waste any time, he tugs at Art’s boxers. Slides them off.

Art falls into a sudden fit of giggles and Patrick can’t help smiling at him. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “It’s your santa hat. I just started thinking about you putting me on the naughty list if I didn’t blow you or something.”

Patrick laughs, he’d forgotten he was wearing it still. He pulls it off his head and gives it to Art. Pulls the coat off and drops it on the floor so he’s only in his t-shirt. “For the record I think you’re just the nicest boy.” Patrick says, looking over his dick. It’s so pretty, flushed purple and so full it’s resting heavy on his tummy. “So so nice.”

“You’re so fucking horny, shut up,” Art whispers and Patrick laughs and undoes his own pants kicking them off. Art’s just watching him. “If you put in more than the tip I’m gonna scream and wake up your brother.” He says quietly as Patrick eases himself out of his boxers. It’s clear he’s getting nervous but the way he says it makes Patrick snicker.

“I’m sure you will.” He says smirking as he rubs his palm over Art’s upper thigh. “I have lube in there, it tastes like cotton candy.” Patrick says, gently. Gesturing to his night stand.

“You fucked someone else in here?” Art asks, curiously.

“My summer time girlfriend. But I bought it for you cause your so fucking special.”

“Cotton candy?” Art makes a face.

“Shut the fuck up and get it.”

Art rolls over and pulls open the drawer, digging around. Patrick’s fixating on his ass. He rubs it gently. Almost climbs on top of him and pushes the head in right then and there. There’s so many things he wants to do to this ass. He’s seen Art’s bare bottom quite a few times when they were in school together, Art coming out of the shower. Patrick acting like he’s fine and then sneaking into the bathroom afterwards to touch himself.

“You have a lot of weed,” Art says as he pulls out a bottle from his night stand and inspects it. Same little unimpressed look on his face.

“Taste it,” Patrick says.

“Ew,” Art says.

“Fine give it,” Patrick says and snatches it away from him. He pulls one of Art’s legs up onto his shoulder to get him closer and Art does the same with his other leg. He’s just got on socks and the open dress shirt. Patrick wants him so bad. He wants him so fucking bad. Wants to be balls fucking deep in him for hours. At least an hour. Just wants to fuck him like crazy till he’s falling apart on his dick.

He coats himself in lube. Art’s holding his breath, there’s a wet spot on his tummy from where his dick is leaking. Patrick lines himself up and Art’s inhaling as Patrick presses up against his hole.

Fuck. He’s not sure if he’s gonna be able to fucking do this. Art’s so feverishly warm and virgin tight. Patrick’s struggling just to get the head in.

“Fuck,” Patrick breathes. “Oh fuck, you’ve never even put your fingers in here, have you? Holy shit.”

“W-why would I d-do that?” Art whines, pitched too high and too soft. Squirming beneath him. Patrick shivers.

“Fuck me, I’m gonna fucking lose it.” Patrick says breathlessly as he slowly, so achingly slowly, feels Art’s body open up around the head of his dick.

Art is making these little whiny noises, each sound going straight to Patrick’s dick. He can’t sit still, he’s wiggling like crazy and it’s barely… fucking… in.

“Holy shit,” Patrick gasps, he’s throbbing, aching. He strokes himself twice and he’s halfway fucking done.

“Oh my… fuck… oh Patrick it feels so….mm weird,” Art whines. And it’s too fucking much. Patrick pushes just a little more in… thinks he might just start fucking him… but it’s pointeless because just that little bit of movement combined with Art’s whining and wiggling and Patrick is suddenly gasping through one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had.

“Fuck,” Patrick gasps breathlessly as he slips out, all his spend leaking out just after. “Goddamnit,” he groans. He’s literally never come that fucking fast in his life.

”Mm,” Art giggles. “I kinda like the tip.”

“Fuck,” Patrick sighs again, running his fingers tips along Arts legs. “You did that to me. You make me fucking insane.”

”I didn’t do anything,” Art says, grinning. “And you didn’t either.” He adds. He’s such a fucking brat.

Patrick adjusts Art’s legs so they’re on either side of Patrick’s waist and he leans over, buries his head against Art’s neck and shoulder, placing little kisses there. All while grabbing onto his dick. Art starts moaning right away as Patrick jerks him. He lasts longer than Patrick but not that much more before Patrick feels the wet hot spurt of liquid spilling between their bodies.

Patrick collapses on top of him when Arts finished. Feels him trying to catch his breath. He curls his fingers into Patrick’s hair and Patrick kisses at his throat, finishing a hickey he’d started.

“Next time I’m just gonna fuck you,” Patrick breathes against his throat.

Art snorts, “And who knows? Maybe you’ll last longer than 30 seconds.”

“So then you agree? I get to fuck you next time,” Patrick says, grinning up at him.

Art rolls his eyes, but there’s hope— because he’s smiling too.

[dylan-duke]

nico needs her after a really rough game but her brothers won‘t let him have her, so he leaves and its a bit angsty but ends with fluff

"lets go," jack says as he opens the door to carters office, luke trailing behind him,

"im gonna wait for nico," carter responds a smile on her face, "ill be home for the movie once i make sure hes ok," jack shakes his head,

"no he said its fine," the middle brother lies. carter raises an eyebrow but let out a breath,

"if you say so," the eldest mumbles shutting her laptop and sliding it into her tote bag.

nico frowns when he finds his girlfriends office empty, the lights off and shutdown for the night.

he pulls his phone from his pocket frowning again when theres no text messages. the captain sniffles as he turns and walks out of the office.

carter sighs as she locks her phone,

"are you sure he said he was ok with me leaving? i havent heard from him,"

"oh yah," jack says as he places a bowl of popcorn, "said he wants us to have sibling time," carter hums picking her phone back up and opening her text messages with her boyfriend,

carts <3 boys said it'd be ok that i came home with them but wanted to check in i know it was a rough one

she doesnt recieve a response.

carter sighs and turns her attention to the movie. its 15 minutes later that theres a knock on the door,

"i got it," carter says as she pushes herself up.

she opens the door to find a crying nico,

"neeks?" she questions, "oh honey come here," she coos letting nico fall into her arms.

she rubs his back whispering sweet nothings until his tears have slowed,

"whats going on?" she asks as she gently guides nico inside,

"y-you l-l-left-" he croaks,

"oh babe, jack said it was ok. said i could, its sibling movie night," nico shakes his head,

"i- i- nev-" carters face falls as she turns and marches back to the living room,

"WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?" she yells at her brothers, "YOU FUCKING LIED FUCK YOU!" jack's eyes widen,

"carter i-"

"NO YOU HAD NO RIGHT! I DONT CARE THAT YOU THINK SIBLING MOVIE NIGHT IS MORE IMPORTANT THEN MY BOYFRIENDS WELL FUCKING BEING!" she screams continuing her rampage, "IM GOING TO NICO'S dont even think about fucking apologizing," she then turns, collects her boyfriend and leaves her apartment.

[tuesdayiminlove]

i don't wanna look at anything else (now that i saw you) PART 2/3

where jamie seems to remember everything, and you're just trying to navigate a stitch on your crochet flower (jamie tartt x fem!reader)

part one

A/N: here's part two!!!!! link what yall think, im so grateful for the feedback of the first part, it's super encouraging <33 tysm. also this is NOT proofread oops

word count: 4.5k

When you arrive back inside your home, you’re heavy-breathing with a heartbeat erratic enough for your heart to pop out of your chest. You place your keys down, reaching into your jean pocket for your phone, placing the first call you can manage to muster up. 

Stevie is over within minutes, you think you might’ve heard her light jogging over to your house. 

Her heavy pants echo the room as she tries to muster up the words. “I just got back from work, and I fucking ran! Tell me the emergency immediately.”

“I don’t even know where to begin!” you say. “I mean, I was trying to make some creamy vegetable soup, but I didn’t even get to chop the tomatoes, Stevie! The fucking tomatoes! I—“

“Okay, begin by getting the point, babe." She walks to your kitchen, you following close behind. It doesn’t come to a surprise that she opens your refrigerator, most likely rummaging for the cucumbers and your chickpea hummus. “I love you, but if this is dire, I’m gonna need to know now.” 

You gather your thoughts as Stevie begins to look through your drawers for a knife. How do you even say it simply? “Jamie Tartt thinks I’m his girlfriend.”

Stevie drops the knife. 

In any other situation, you would scold her for doing something close to a hazard in the kitchen. But you understand her actions completely. If you were holding a flower pot when finding out this information, you’d drop that shit, too. 

“Continue before I absolutely freak the fuck out.”

That’s when you tell her about the call and the trip to the hospital. The words are coming out of your mouth at the speed of light, you’re surprised Stevie is managing to keep up. But she does, quietly chopping her cucumbers and dipping a few into the hummus. This is a more collected look than when she dropped the knife, but you’re sure the gears are turning in her head just as much as they are for you currently. 

“I just left his house and I told him I’d be back with—soup!”

You don’t wait to turn the stove back on, shuffling Stevie away from the center of the counter while you go back to cooking. 

She says your name slowly, eyes wide. “This is some romcom-movie-shit, babe.”

You fight a roll of your eyes. “This is real life!” you scold. “And the poor boy is concussed, probably mental!” 

“Mental for thinking he’s dating you? Have you seen yourself? You’re fucking magnificent.”

“Thanks,” you drawl, not in the mood for a compliment. “But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s just a bit bonkers right now, and I don’t know what to do!” You stir the pot stressfully, watching the ingredients mix around the broth. You’ve put a bit more ingredients, and added more broth to make sure that the serving is good for two, and for any leftovers Jamie may want. You think you’ll have enough to send Steve home with, as well. “The doctor said not to startle him, but I’m pretty fucking startled. So I don’t know how to not startle him when I’m not in the right state of mind! This feels so stupid.” 

“I think you should tell him the truth,” says Stevie. She’s right behind your shoulder, peering over at the pot. She takes a large whiff, and hums. “You making this for him?”

“And for you.” And me! 

“Ah,” she says. “I see. A little compensation so I don’t out you to the press, yeah? Nice thinking!”

“Not funny,” you drawl. It was never a thought that crossed your mind that Stevie would go out, telling people of your current entanglement with Jamie. She’s an editor for a magazine company, and she has a problem telling you all the tips she gets about local celebrities, always trusting you not to tell anyone anything. You don’t doubt that she’ll do the same for you. “So I should tell him the truth, then?” you ask, getting back to the main point of Stevie’s visit. 

“Mhm,” she replies. “Probably not today though, don’t you think? He’s overwhelmed enough as it is, he’s probably gonna be benched in Richmond’s next couple matches. That sad fuck is probably groveling as we speak. And he can’t even drink to cure the pain! … That’s how concussions work, right?” She shakes her head. “Anyway, don’t do it today. If I were you, I’d play it by ear, you know?”

You nod, having heard all of this from the doctor.

"And one more thing."

Stevie hums in questionn

“… He may have tried to kiss me.”

You think everyone in the neighborhood heard Stevie’s screech when she belts your name. 

It’s later in the day when you ring Jamie’s doorbell. You’d successfully shooed Stevie out of your house, convincing her that she does not need to spy on you from your kitchen window in case Jamie tries to make a move (“I’ll be there in two seconds, ready to make that concussion worse. Just say the word.”). And now you have the soup in two tupperware containers, as well some carrots and dip in your tote bag because that’s what Jamie originally always used you for, right? The familiarity will hopefully make him happy. 

When he opens the door, you’re not surprised to see all the lights are closed, as well as his curtains shut (so much for Stevie spying). The only thing you see that’s shedding artificial light is the lamp by his staircase, but even that looks as dim as it can be. 

“Hey, love,” he says groggily, a certain warmth to it that makes the nickname seem more intimate. He rubs his eyes as he moves to create room for you to come inside. “Sorry I took so long. Took a bit of a nap.”

“Oh,” you frown, concern taking over the nerves of his sudden pet names, “I’m sorry for waking you. I can just drop these off and head out, if you’d prefer?”

Jamie shakes his head. “Don’t be silly. Come in.”

You enter apprehensively, though you’re trying your best to conceal it. This is the second time ever that you are in Jamie’s home. And it’s only been a day. The strangeness of that fact lingers in the air as you close the door behind you.

You trail behind him toward the kitchen, your footsteps quiet against the hardwood floors. Various football plaques litter the walls, as well as many, many photos of Richmond’s team.

“Why don’t you go sit down?” you say as you simultaneously take in his home. “I can prepare these myself and bring them to you.”

“Rubbish," scoffs Jamie, "I’m still mobile, and I’m not leaving my girlfriend to take care of me like you’re some sort of maid. I’m not bedridden.”

The word girlfriend, once again, catches you off guard, and your heart does a funny little stutter. You push it aside. “I just don’t want you to exert yourself,” you reason, brows furrowed. “You’re concussed, Jamie.”

“Who cares about that?” he jokes, waving off your concerns. 

Your jaw clenches. You want to say I care. Because this concussion is affecting you more than you fucking know. But you bite your tongue, and instead ask him where he keeps his bowls and silverware. 

Minutes later, Jamie and yourself are sitting on his couch. You took the liberty of sitting on the opposite end of his sofa, taking up as little space as possible. You’ve tucked yourself into the far corner, legs curled up slightly, trying to occupy as little room as possible. Jamie, on the other hand, lounges comfortably, his socked feet propped on the edge of the coffee table, though his posture is slightly more relaxed than it was earlier. You’d ask Jamie if it would be okay to crochet while you’re here, mainly so you can have something to do instead of sitting there awkward with today’s events before you. 

So, soup now resting on Jamie’s coffee table (you stop every few moments to take a bite), you’re intent on the rose petal you’re making with your yarn. Jamie alternates between eating his soup and watching you, his gaze unashamedly direct, though there’s a softness to it that makes your heart flutter despite yourself.

To anyone else, the scene might look endearingly domestic: the two of you sharing a quiet moment in the living room, him eating soup, you crocheting, the occasional exchange of lighthearted banter. But there’s an underlying element to it. You don’t want to tip-toe around Jamie, because you’re supposed to be acting natural and all, but it’s hard. 

“You’re the most thoughtful thing ever, you know that?” he says, after a minute of silence. 

Your hands pause mid-stitch, your eyes staying fixed on the delicate yarn in front of you as you decide how to respond, stomach churning nervously. “A ‘thing’?” you joke lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “How very gentlemanly of you.”

“You know what I mean!” chastises Jamie. 

Fighting the butterflies in your stomach as his words settle warmly around your heart.

“I do know,” you reply softly, finally glancing up at him. “Why do you say that?”

“The rose you’re knitting—“

“Crocheting.”

“Crocheting. Sorry, love. How many are you making for the old bloke’s grandson?”

The moment you take in Jamie's words, you pause, crochet hook in the air. “What?” 

Jamie looks confused. “Mr. Taylor? That his name?”

You shake your head, mind still reeling. “No, I know who you meant. How do you know I’m making this for his grandson?” You don’t recall telling that to Jamie when you initially mentioned what you wanted to do here. 

You currently have half of a rose petal done, wanting to make something special for Mr. Taylor grandson—Roman. The young toddler is allergic to flowers, getting all sniffly and itchy when you had brought over a hand-made flower arrangement for the Taylors (it had been their 37th wedding anniversary). But Roman had just kept looking at the flowers with such curiosity, despite his body’s affinity for them. When you had decided to take up crocheting (you wanted to make tiny plant plushies yourself��because why are stuffed plushies with cute faces on them so expensive these days?), one of the first things you learned was to make stuffed flower arrangements, just for when Roman would visit. 

How could Jamie possibly know that?

“Because you’re you,” says Jamie. Blush coats over his cheeks lightly when he averts his gaze from hers, hand moving to scratch the back of his head.

“… And," he begins, "one day, I was in me car and I saw you walk over to the Taylors’ house with crochet roses. ‘Made it look like a nice arrangement, too. I wanted to ask you why you had fake flowers when you have fucking millions just in your front yard. Didn’t know if that’d sound weird, though, so…” he trails off, his words getting quieter, “So, I may have asked Mr. Taylor instead.”

You try to recall the memory Jamie spoke of. You do recall the last time you had headed over to the Taylors with the signature bouquet. Jamie had been at the front of his house, getting into his car. Of course she had noticed him immediately, spotting him just by her peripheral vision, but she hadn’t decided to spare him a look until she crossed the street to look back, but he had been preoccupied. She didn’t even think he saw her that day. 

That day had been nearly three months ago. 

Your mouth falls open. Jamie had noticed and asked about you that long ago?

Jamie glances at you nervously, mistaking your silence for something more negative. “I’m not some creep or anything, promise! I just—I dunno—I was curious! You’re always doing stuff like that.” 

You shake your head. “I just never knew you noticed,” you mumble, your nerves growing. Even now, he remembers. You wish you knew what that meant for you two; you wish that the suspicions and hopes in your brain are true. “Or asked.”

Jamie’s cockiness kicks back in at your flustered nerves. “Like I said, I’ve always noticed you. And now I get to be the luckiest guy.”

Your eyes meet his. For a moment, you let yourself pretend. Pretend that this is real—that this is the relationship you and Jamie have built together. That you’re a couple, and this is just one of those moments you get to stumble upon—a sweet realization that Jamie had liked you long before either of you dared to admit it.

You let yourself hold on to the fantasy, just for a moment.

It has to be just a moment... you think if you stare any longer at Jamie your body is going to take over and grab him for a kiss, just to know what it may feel like. You just know you shouldn’t.

“Four,” you say softly. “I’m making four for Roman.” You turn back to the stitch you had laid on your lap, trying to get out of your frenzie and into your zone. 

Jamie smiles, eyes still twinkling. “That’s his name? Roman?”

You hum. “He’s about to turn four. And he’s just the most adorable kid I’ve seen.”

“I’m being rude, aren’t I?" replies Jamie, "Prodding.”

Your head snaps up. “What? No.” You uncomfortably shift in your seat to hopefully look less odd. “Sorry if I’m being weird. I’m just… zoned out, I guess. Thinking a lot.”

“Yeah?” he says, staring at you intently. “What about?”

“Just… everything about today, I suppose.”

Jamie jokingly smiles. “Yeah, getting a call that your boyfriend got whacked in the head and is now concussed wasn’t really in your daily plan, was it?”

You let out a laugh. “No, it wasn’t.”

“It got in the way of watering radishes, I bet.”

Again, you laugh more, your stomach moving steadily at the action. From the limited conversation you’ve had with him, paired with now, you’ve deduced that Jamie is just a complete pro for lightening up conversations. When your heart races nervously, a quip comes out of his mouth that makes your body go back steady. You don’t even think that this is an individual experience; he seems like he does it a lot. You wonder how that balance comes so perfectly in his life. 

“Yeah,” you laugh. “My gardening has to come to a pause today.” 

“It’s a shame,” he says, grinning. “Would’ve loved to see you in your cute sunhat, or the giant yellow gloves you always wear.”

Your eyes widen at his words. 

Seeing your shock, he adds, “You think I don’t notice these things? I always have.”

You try not to cough up the food you’d just digested. You would like to consider that Jamie is just making things up, but the description of your usual accessories when you’re out tending to your plants remain true. The giant yellow gloves belong to your mom, and there hasn’t been any reason to buy new ones if you’ve already got a pair. 

And the sunhat—well, it’s not everyday you’re seen out with it. It’s usually if the sun ever comes out, glaring at your eyes while you try to focus on a task at hand. You’ve probably brought it out maybe a couple of times since Jamie had moved in next to you; none of those times being as of recent. 

It’s a shock Jamie can even recall it. 

He remembers the little things. I always have. 

“Fuck,” he mutters softly. “Have I creeped you out? Don’t mean to sound like a prick, but I thought what I said was pretty fucking cute. But I understand if it’s creepy again. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “No, Jamie, I’m not creeped. ‘M kinda just shocked that you notice things like that.” 

He shrugs. “It’s hard to not pay attention. You live right beside me. And you’re you. It’s pretty fucking impossible for me not to notice things about you.”

Your heart is back to racing. All of Jamie’s confessions of things he’s noticed can only insinuate that he’s genuinely seen things about you, whether he had gotten hit in the head or not. They’re not fabricated in his mind from his belief that you two are dating. He’s not like Holy shit, do you remember that time we had dinner together? You think if he started recalling specific memories that never happened, you’d check him straight into the nearest mental institution. 

But he’s saying things that are so undeniably true; things he’s noticed about your being. 

If you aren’t already so conscious and confused of the actual problem at hand, you’d sit here and pretend that he’s yours—just as much as he claims to be. You wish this moment to be real, but it’s not. The sadness and guilt that weighs over you with that fact can overtake any other feeling in this moment. 

“Jamie,” you begin, “I need to tell you something.”

You think about Stevie’s advice, to not tell him today. The doctor saying not to overwhelm him. You know they’re right. You don’t want to. The poor bloke is probably already stressed enough as it is. You want to be here for Jamie, to help him get better because even with your limited experience around him, you care very deeply about his wellbeing. And maybe your feelings are skewed by the crush you’ve been harboring on him, but that’s hardly the point anymore. 

But how are you supposed to keep this up? Pretending to be someone you’re not, filling a role in his life that isn’t truly yours—it feels wrong, no matter how much you want to help him heal.

You don’t think you’re cut out for pretending. 

Jamie looks at you expectantly, a small smile on his face and your heart just breaks. 

“Jamie… I don’t know how to say this,” you admit, your throat tightening. “But I’m not your girlfriend.”

For a second, Jamie looks beyond confused. “The fuck? Did we break up?”

“I got the call today,” you explain gently, shrinking down into the sofa with a racing heart. “When I heard you were in the hospital, I was worried—God, I was worried—but I didn’t understand why they called me. And then Roy said… he said we’d been going out.” You bite your lip, carefully choosing your next words. “It made me realize something had gone wrong. That maybe you hit your head and got things mixed up.”

Jamie doesn’t say anything, his brows knitting together as he processes your words.

“I wanted to do what was best for you,” you continue, your voice growing quieter. “Everyone kept telling me not to startle you, not to stress you out. But I can’t keep pretending we’re in a relationship when we’re not. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel honest. “I care about you, Jamie. I care about you getting better. But I can’t pretend, okay? I’m really, really sorry.””

It’s been nearly two days since you’ve seen or heard from Jamie. You’d practically bolted after your admission, your chest tight with guilt and your hands trembling as you no longer felt worthy of being in his home.

You hadn’t looked back, and he hadn’t stopped you.

It’s all you think about as you sit in the kitchen with your morning coffee, trying your best to catch up on the emails about work that have been piling up while you wallow.

Your work is interrupted when the doorbell rings. 

You immediately think it’s Stevie; she’s been wanting to see you since you had texted and said that you couldn’t even last the night without telling Jamie the truth. You purposefully left out the parts where Jamie pointed out the crocheting for Roman, and the gloves, and the sunhat, and Jamie just noticing you. God knows Stevie will be the first person to jump up and say he’s in love with you, and you’re not ready for that delusion in your head to be spoken out into the universe. 

Especially after Jamie has not spoken to you since. He’s probably freaked out, never wanting to speak to you for as long as he possibly can. 

You close your laptop and head to your front door, not even bothering to check who may be on the other end because—duh—it’s Stevie. 

Only, it’s not her. 

Instead, three boys stand on the opposite end of your door, gaping at you from the moment you lay eyes on them. 

They look vaguely familiar to you, and judging but the sweatsuits they’re wearing with the AFC Richmond logo, they’re Jamie’s teammates. You swallow your anxiety and give them a confused look.

“You’re real,” the man in the middle says, tall and broad with a commanding presence.. 

“Shut up, bruv,” the man to the right elbows the other. “We don’t even know if it’s her. ‘Could be the girl two houses down…”

“Mi amor,” says the final man, eyes light. His warm, melodic voice is unmistakably Spanish, holding up a bottle of wine like a peace offering. “What’s your name?”

You frown, wanting to ask so many questions when a shout intercepts the trio that has lined up at your door. 

“Oi!” 

They boys all turn, and you manage to peek your head out the door, to see Jamie stomping down the steps of his home, clad in sweats and… cow slippers? 

Despite the grumpy set of his face, the sight is almost endearing.

“Jamie!” the trio chorus in unison, like they’ve been caught red-handed.

“You didn’t answer the door,” one of them says, “we figured you’d be at your beautiful lady’s.”

“Don’t mean you can go knocking on doors of people you don’t fucking know,” huffs Jamie, finally reaching them. He doesn’t spare you a glance. 

The boys look ashamed. “We’re sorry, bruv,” says the tallest one, voice gruff and guilty. “Dani made Birria tacos, and Colin’s brought fuzzy socks. I just wanted to say sorry for whacking ya.”

Jamie’s eyes soften at his words. He sighs. “Thank you, mate. I appreciate it, I really do. But I stand by what I fuckin’ said. You can’t go knocking at random doors.”

“But it’s not random!” says the boy you’ve deduced to be Colin. For the first time since they’ve knocked, he turns to you in acknowledgement. “It’s lovely to meet you!” 

“The flowers are gorgeous,” says Dani, eyes g;azing dutifully at your front lawn. “And we apologize for the interruption.”

Jamie nods at them, like a mother watching over their child at the playground after a petty fight breaks out. 

You grin, awkwardness dissolvong. “It's okay. And—I love birria tacos, by the way. Good choice.”

Dani blushes. “I’m sure Jamie wouldn’t mind sharing it with his lady. Wouldn’t  you, Jamie?”

Jamie sputters, looking between the boys, and sparing you the first glance since he’s got here. His mouth opens, then closes. Repeatedly. 

“Um,” you interject, “I would much rather let Jamie enjoy it. Thank you, though!”

Isaac frowns. “That’s how you’re gonna treat your girl?” he grumbles at Jamie. 

“She said it!” argues Jamie. “Not me!”

Isaac shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about no chivalry these days, but he claps Jamie on the shoulder. “Alright, bruv, we’ll get outta your hair. Just make sure you enjoy the tacos. And, uh…” he glances at you with a cheeky grin, “Be nice to your lady, yeah?”

Jamie groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Colin pipes up, “It was lovely meeting you!” His voice is warm and genuine, and he flashes you a smile before jogging after Isaac, who is already halfway down the steps.

Dani lingers a moment longer, holding out the wine bottle to Jamie. “You deserve this,” he says with a knowing smile, his gaze flicking between you and Jamie.

Jamie takes the bottle “Thanks.”

“And don’t worry, we won’t knock on any more random doors. Adiós, mi amigos!” Dani trots after the others.

And then it’s just the two of you.

“‘M really fucking sorry ‘bout them. I didn’t think they’d come knocking at your door when I decided to fucking ignore them.” He stares down at the endearing cow faces at his feet, sighing.

You shrug, a harmless smile tugging at your lips. Jamie looks awfully nervous, which you don’t understand. “Makes sense, honestly. And I don’t mind. Now that you’re here, though, I just wanna ask how you’re doing.”

He looks briefly surprised. “I’m doing alright,” he says eventually. 

“Okay, because I never intend to pry, but I’ve just been pretty worried. And—“

“You don’t need to pretend to care.”

The abruptness of Jamie’s cutoff has you wondering whether or not it actually occurred. His frown, however, only solidifies that those words did indeed come from his mouth. 

“Excuse me?” you reply, voice sharper than intended.

“Listen, I was a fuckin’ idiot and a borderline creep to you. When you left, I really thought about it and how fucked up that whole day was. I can’t imagine how it made you feel; being put into a position where you had to be in a relationship with me.”

You frown. You wonder now if this is why Jamie has chosen not to speak to you; if his guilt for the situation has kept him from reaching out. You refuse for that to be a reality. 

“Jamie, are you serious? I just wanted you to be okay! And that’s still what I want for you.”

His eyes peek up from his slippers to you. “… So you don’t hate me?”

You laugh. “I have no reason to hate you, Jamie.”

“You have every reason to believe that I’m a stalker-creep, by the way!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you want me to see you as one?”

“Obviously fucking not!

“Then stop trying to drill it into my head!” you laugh. 

Jamie stares at you for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like he wants to argue but can’t find the words. Finally, he lets out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. There’s a flicker of vulnerability in his expression, softened by the small. And, for the first time in days, the tension between you feels like it’s starting to ease.

“If it’s not obvious,” he begins awkwardly, “I like you. A lot.” He laughs at himself. “Enough to reach stalker status. And clearly my fucking fantasies wanted to take over with me fucking head… but I wanted to do it all the right way. ‘Kinda cheated didn’t I?”

For the first time in two days, the churning in your stomach isn’t anxiety, and instead something entirely more manageable. You grin at him, teasing, “Maybe a little.”

He huffs a laugh, the sound a mix of relief and something hopeful. His eyes meet yours, more sure now, though his voice remains gentle when he says, “I want to do it right. All of it. If you’ll let me.”

The way he looks at you—open, expectant, like he’s giving you the choice and trusting you to give the truest response.

Your smile says everything he needs to know.

(You already know Stevie’s going to lose her mind when you tell her.)

[mymoshangthoughts]

okay, okay, okay, bear with me

mobei jun already knows about shang qinghua as airplane

oki ive decided to take advantage of the fact that WE NEVER GET A MOBEI JUN POV AND I'LL BE FORVER SALTY ABOUT THAT SHIT

but like, shen yuan figured airplane out REAL fast, right? they barely spent time together before the immortal alliance and then it takes one surprise before airplane is saying stupid shit, right?

and i cant help but think, mobei jun aint dumb and he's been spending How Many Years crashing at shang qinghua's leisure house whenever the fuck he feels like it?

he also finds shang qinghua to be Hella Sus because come on, ofc he does. a human just declares their undying loyalty to you after one fucking meeting??? even if he believes shang qinghua is being sincere in the moment, the fact that he was so quick to betray his sect doesnt speak of a loyal servant

so why wouldnt he snoop? why wouldnt he pay extra close attention when shang qinghua says shit that doesnt make sense? why wouldnt he notice when shang qinghua speaks or writes in a language that he doesnt recognize? airplane canonically isnt fluent in english so if he used a bit of it, especially chinglish, wouldnt mobei jun be able to learn some of the meanings of the words just by context clues? especially when he has YEARS to decode it? like if airplane was fluent, maybe he could hide the meaning, but a limited vocabulary adapted to another language isnt actually super hard to decode. it's the same reason that you can generally understand what slang means before you look up the definition. you might not know what 'rizz' means, but you can pick up the meaning from context clues.

anyway im over explaining the linguistic aspects ALL IM SAYING IS what if airplane kinda depends heavily on chinglish to be his Secret Language that Theres No Way That Anyone Here Can Get. and sure, for most people, it does seem like gibberish. but again, mobei jun has YEARS at his side and reasons to nitpick at it and decode it.

like what if airplane had a habit of writing out pidw plot points in chinglish bc look he is Going to forget shit no matter what, he wrote that novel a lifetime ago, but theres some info thats pretty important for him to Not Forget. so mobei jun is just left with a huge stash of Impossible Information that shang qinghua writes about

everything ranging from future events to obscure demon world facts that theres just no justifiable reason for shang qinghua to know about and just everything in between.

but also what if shang qinghua wrote his feelings? his thoughts? his issues? like cmon, he literally has NO ONE to consult with about the insanity of his life before cucumber-bro, and his life is really crazy, and he used to be the person who wrote out his feelings via novel but look dude he's not about to tempt fate by writing out another novel rn so a diary makes sense. or at least like, random venting

and again, this isnt even mentioning airplane having some potential verbal fuckups that mobei jun can add to his ever growing file of "shang qinghua has something fucking going on"

and like, maybe mobei jun hasnt actually figured out the exact truth but he has some eerily close guesses. or maybe airplane wrote a lengthy journal explaining literally his entire fucked up life and mobei jun knows Everything.

look im just a little bit obsessed with mobei jun casually being aware for YEARS that shang qinghua is from another world and might have once had god-like powers over this world. i think this is very funny and i think it could work in a canon compliant way. cuz i also like to think that some of mobei jun's aggro at shang qinghua was a mixture of

you literally wont tell me who you really are. you claim to be my loyal subject but you wont even tell me your real name and Yes I'm Upset About That

you fucking fucker, you literally PLANNED that horrible event to happen???? you suck so bad omfg. THAT WAS TRAUMATIZING FOR ME YOU JERK NO I DONT CARE IF YOU FEEL BAD ABOUT IT NOW

your handwriting sucks and im mad that i didnt just have to decode your weird other language, i also had to decode your fucking horrendous handwriting and i dont know if i can ever forgive you for that

you barely ever show your real personality in front of me and i have to learn how you really feel by reading this fucking notes and YES IM UPSET ABOUT THAT

i also just love the idea of Something Happening to do with the multiverse and basically mobei jun is the only one who isnt remotely surprised lmfao. binghe is in crisis mode, cucumber thinks he's gonna die, airplane is freaked out, and mobei jun is just like "yeah, figured some dumb shit like this might happen. you didnt know binghe? dont you pay any attention to your husband :/ dude, they're not even good at hiding it, i thought you were supposed to be smart"

also the simultaneous heartattacks that cucumber and airplane would have that mobei jun just KNOWS like thats hilarious. imagine they need to talk about something secretly in public and its super urgent and mobei jun just starts using chinglish or webspeak or something perfectly and cumplane are FREAKING THE FUCK OUT

mobei jun: that mofo is hella sus, but keep it on the dl. ttyl i need to do a vibe check

cumplane: ?!?!?!?!?!?

[cinnamon-stixs]

Sinsmas came out, and I bawled. here's me yapping about it.

-Blitz put horses EVERYWHERE to try and make Stolas happy

-Stolas was asking for his antidepressants. keep in mind he goes this whole episode, which takes place over the course of a month, completely unmedicated.

-Blitz asking what he eats :(. Then Stolas's rich ass.

-Stella fucking GRAB'S VIAS PHONE. GOD I WANT TO KILL THAT BITCH. THEY SIT THEIR AND LAUGH ABOUT HIM WANTING TO TALK TO HIS DAUGHTER IT MAKES ME SO. FUCKING. ANGRY.

-Imps still hate Stolas. Also bro has NO life skills whatsoever

-She straight up spits in his coffee, no remorse. Queen honestly.

-New fit!! this is so much better than that dumbass romper

-Blitz catching rats for him :((

-"No, this is how I act when I don't have money! :D"

-I absolutely adore the concept of sinsmas btw. Also, notice how both Moxxie and Blitz act on wrath, rather than greed (where they were both raised). Interesting lil detail

-Of course Blitz would set the apartment on fire

-Loona acting like me fr

-Millie and Moxxie fighting heheheee

-He's so concerned lmaooo??

-Whiteboard! My fave is the 'days since moxie sang' counter.

-Loona's opened up so much I love her QmQ

-"I'm poor now!" I love you Stolas but holy shit you privileged ass baby.. At least yall can afford to feed everyone in your house

-God Blitz is so in love

-Stolas is GOING THROUGH IT with these parallels

-Blitz trying to defend cheating 💀💀

-Homophobic cunt

-Mammon tree topper

-They're STILL laughing about Stolas trying to call Via. Have they kept her phone from her this whole time?

-She didn't hear them say he'd been trying to call. She took her earbuds out AFTERWARDS. As far as Via knows, he only called once.

-Stolas was the one who got her the guitar

-Via's song goes so hard, but what happened to her accent??

-The parallels in Via's song and the one Stolas sang to her in ep 2 make me wanna cry

-Btw Via is COMPLETELY justified in how she feels, and her decision to not forgive Stolas.

-"I'll just get older and you'll only know my name" Holy fuck that line goes hard

-I THOUGHT SHE WAS GONNA ATTEMPT.

-"Well here's an idea, You could shut the fuck up!"

-Me I fear

-She sits down with stolas's diary I can't

-I thought the bit of her throwing up as weird as hell. But, foreshadowinggg

-What if this was my 13th reason.

-"Didn't make me wet AT ALL"

-The scream as she flies out the window is delightful

-Blitz immediately knows stolas went to look for Via

-GET HIS ASS

-"Get your icy hands off my bottom, bitch!"

-Dude what the hell did he say?!

-GET. HIS. ASS!!

-"fuck yes! :D"

-Loona and Moxxie working together :(((

-This action scene is so fucking cool

-"High five!!" DUMBASS?!

-Im gonna kms they're so cute

-VIA!

-She doesn't hug her father back.

-She thought him needing the antidepressants was her fault I'm actually gonna do it this time.

-Although Via won't talk to Stolas, she still saved him. She loves her dad, but she's rightfully angry. It'll take time to rebuild that trust.

-FUCK.

-Blitz relaxes. Stolas doesn't.

-God what a cutie

-MOXXIES FACE HSDHSJHDJSIJ

-I knew immediately in the bathroom scene what was up with Millie

-Im really excited to see the pregnant millie plotline actually. Judging by her reaction, she's not sure if she wants to keep it.

-STOLAS'S SOFT LITTLE LAUGH AUGH IM CRYING

-He doesn't hug Blitz back.

-Xmas song at the end goes hard.

Overall, this episode was AMAZING. The writing was great, the emotional moments hit hard, the animation was great as usual, and the pacing was good, if not a bit clunky. What a great end to the season.

I think i'll go call my dad.

[mochinomnoms]

i just want to saw that you really cooked with the trey scenario and it’s been on my mind since you posted it. like imagine the banter between the two?? the way i would perceive every interaction i would have with him as condescending especially with his cute, infuriating smirk while he over on the side thinking of how to subtly get your heart (and how to sneak in a few baking puns too). smth smth trey shares a family recipe and we point it out and trey is deflecting hard.

-🪸

Im glad you liked it! I've been working at a bakery for a few weeks now and I was surprised at how little baking I do (which is none). 90% of the job is packaging the goods to sell in the store! So the idea just came to me while at work!

In all good fun, I think Trey would try to poke a bit of fun at you, though he does firmly believe in the superiority of a proper bakery versus a grocery store one. He'll acknowledge that he's biased, but not wrong.

But with the wrong tone and a prefect who woke up on the wrong side of the bed that morning, Trey is suddenly met with a one-sided rivalry that he could end with an apology, but...

Well, forgive him for this, but Trey finds it very funny and endearing how offended and angry you get. Especially when your immediate response is to challenge him to a bake off (which you lose, miserably).

It's such a deviation from your usual mannerisms. You're always polite, kind, and attentive, and the fact that he's the only one to rile you up over something that's really so trival is actually a bit fun to him. Trey has had to be a big brother figure for the last few years and regin in Riddle as best as he can, so it's nice to have a bit of fun.

You're just mad that this fedora wearing, broccoli-color haired, 5'11" asshole called your old job "pseudo baking". So what if he's technically right and you didn't bake anything from scratch yourself? That doesn't mean he gets to say it to your face without consequences!

Most of the banter is you giving Trey snide comments and him replying with amused, teasing remarks. Normally he wouldn't let this escalate to the level it's at now, but damn it you're awfully cute and it's actually a bit fun watching you scramble around in the kitchen to make simple cupcakes.

"I know the recipe! I just didn't have to make it since I did a later shift—BUT I still trained for baking stuff you know!"

"Sure. Of course, baking pre-made mixes right?"

"Oh fuck off. 'PRe-MaDe MIxeS—' shut the fuck up!"

"Oh, did I hit a nerve? It's fine if you did, you're a grocery store baker, after all. Sorry, sorry."

"No, you're not! You're fucking smirking! The audacity—I should use this spoon to smack that dumb smirk off your pretty face, you moth—"

You shut up pretty quick after your slip of the tongue, focused on the handwritten recipe card that looks like it's been passed down a few generations at this point. Trey's started to flush pink, though his smile is softer and more fond now, as he continues watching you in silence.

Like I said, he's having fun in his own way. You, on the other hand, are fighting off the heat in your face as you're wondering at what point you started finding his stupid face attractive.

[notiddygothgf]

1. Fucking Great

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ You're desperate. It's not attractive. ❞

★ c.w.: drinking

★ a/n: finals have been literally beating me to the ground like a dog but. im finally free. OMFG!!! to celebrate, i wanted to drop a lil special sum sum for u guys, even though i wasn't planning on updating again so soon. Make sure to comment and interact and whatever, I love hearing from you guys!!!

★ w.c: .4.2k

call out my name ; chapter index

PEOPLE SAY DIVORCE never gets easier. That simply is not the case. In fact, after your fourth or fifth one, moving on became second nature. Then again, that’s easier said than done – especially when it’s your job.

A little background – you were a Temporary Wife. You worked for an organization called NewlyWeds, through which bachelors, lonely men, those with far too much time (and money), and the like could “rent” wives… so to speak.

The reasons for needing a fake wife were as varied as the men themselves. 

For some, it was a matter of societal expectations—warding off nosy relatives at family gatherings or appeasing traditional parents who couldn’t bear the thought of an unmarried son. Others needed a polished facade for their careers, a stable "marriage" being the key to promotions or winning over conservative clients. Some wanted a sexual companion (which was not your area of specialty – in fact, you had never stooped low enough to actually sleep with any of your so-called husbands). And then there were the lonely ones, men who craved companionship without the complications of real commitment. 

What better way to fill the void than with a year-long marriage contract?

Whether it was to silence judgmental whispers, project an image of success, or fill an emotional void, the demand for a temporary wife was steady and unrelenting. It was your job to play the part flawlessly. And you were damn good at it. Five happy husbands – four, if you don’t count the dead one – were a testament to that. 365 Days per contract, and not a single unhappy customer so far.

Marriage was a way to pay the bills. Nothing more.

So why did this one make you feel so nervous? 

As you crossed the threshold to your new husband’s house, you couldn’t help but feel a little… well, anxious, to say the least. Your suitcase rolled to a stop behind you – a sizeable one, one that had your clothes and essentials. Of course, you would more than likely purchase more a little further down the road. For now, though, a suitcase was all you needed. 

One year. One suitcase. One ginormous house.

You had to crane your head all the way back to look at the ceiling. House is a bit of an understatement… Grey walls opened up into the foyer, where a grand staircase spiraled up to the second floor. A sleek, minimalistic design with tasteful decor. A chandelier hung in the middle of it all, what had to have been hundreds of glass pieces glimmering with light. 

Mansion would have been a better word. In all of your 5 marriages, you had never stayed anywhere so lavish. Then again, you supposed you had to have a lot of money to afford a fake wife.

He knew I was coming at some point today, you thought to yourself. It was dead silent in the house. I wonder where he is?

You towed your suitcase over to the door perpendicular to the stairs. According to the briefing you had read on the way here, you would be setting up shop in the guest bedroom, that way you could make room for all of your stuff (not that there was much of it). The guest room allegedly was tucked away near the staircase, so you tried the handle.

When it gave, you pushed the door the rest of the way open. The guest bedroom was pretty sizable. A queen sized bed with neatly tucked black sheets, a sleek, dark-oak closet with a matching furniture set, and a nightstand with a pretty lamp and a vase of flowers on it.

This is one hell of a guest room, you reasoned. It put the measly back room in your old shithole apartment to shame.

With a great amount of effort, you hauled your suitcase onto the bed, unzipping it and viewing its contents. Then, slowly, you began to unpack – setting neatly folded clothes aside, organizing them by season and type.

You changed out of your travel attire, a tailored suit and pencil skirt, which now felt constrictive and far too formal for the empty house. Digging through your suitcase, you pulled out a pair of comfortable leggings and an oversized sweater—neutral tones, soft fabric, nothing too flashy. Something “homely,” as your job often required. Sliding into the cozy ensemble, you felt the tension ease from your shoulders, the weight of first impressions temporarily set aside.

With your outfit taken care of, you turned to the task of settling in. The guest bedroom was pristine, almost unsettlingly so. You hadn’t expected a mess, but the level of order was borderline clinical. Not a single speck of dust marred the dark wood surfaces, and the flowers on the nightstand seemed freshly arranged. You suspected they were artificial, the kind that stayed perfect forever. It gave the room an impersonal feel, as though it belonged to no one in particular. Temporary, like you.

“Well,” you muttered under your breath, running your hand along the smooth surface of the dresser. “Guess I’m not the only one passing through.”

After organizing your belongings in the spacious closet, which felt like overkill for the modest amount of clothing you’d brought, you decided to explore. The house was massive—mansion, you corrected yourself again—and you figured you’d better learn your way around before embarrassing yourself by getting lost.

Starting in the foyer, you took in the grandeur once more. The chandelier overhead sparkled like a constellation, its light refracting across the grey walls and polished floors. You wandered into the living room, where sleek furniture—a monochrome mix of black, white, and grey—was arranged with a precision that felt more suited to a showroom than a home. A massive flat-screen TV dominated one wall, but it was spotless, devoid of fingerprints or smudges. No cozy throw blankets, no scattered magazines, no signs of life.

The kitchen was similarly sterile. White countertops stretched endlessly, interrupted only by high-tech appliances that gleamed under the recessed lighting. Not a single mug or dish sat in the sink, and the pantry—when you dared to peek inside—was meticulously organized, though oddly sparse. A few boxes of cereal, some canned goods, and a row of bottled water. No clutter. No warmth.

“Does anyone even live here?” you wondered aloud. The silence was your only answer. No photographs adorned the walls or countertops, no hints of personality or history. It was as though the house existed solely for appearances.

Your unease deepened as you ascended the grand staircase. The second floor was just as immaculate, the long hallway lined with closed doors. You passed a library—if you could call it that—a room filled with books arranged in perfect alphabetical order, the spines unbroken. It smelled faintly of leather and wood polish, not the warm, musty scent of well-loved pages.

Finally, you reached the master bedroom. Aki’s room.

You hesitated at the threshold, hand hovering over the doorknob. This was his space, his sanctuary. You were here to do a job, not invade his privacy. But then you remembered the briefing. Part of your role was to ensure everything ran smoothly, to maintain the illusion of a harmonious household. That included housekeeping duties. Squaring your shoulders, you turned the knob and stepped inside.

The room was as impersonal as the rest of the house, though it carried a faint trace of its occupant. The bed, a king-sized monolith with crisp, white linens, was unmade, the only imperfection you’d seen so far. The furniture matched the sleek, dark aesthetic of the guest room, but there were no personal touches. No photos on the nightstands, no trinkets or mementos.

Your gaze shifted to the walk-in closet, its door slightly ajar. Curiosity tugged at you, and you couldn’t resist taking a peek. Inside, you found rows upon rows of clothing, organized with military precision. Suits dominated the space—tailored jackets, crisp dress shirts, and neatly pressed trousers in shades of black, grey, and navy. Sweaters and casual wear were tucked away at the back, their softer fabrics and muted colors almost an afterthought. Everything was of impeccable quality, from the silk ties to the polished leather shoes lined up along the floor – everything except for the lone pair of beat-up converse hidden just out of plain sight.

So he’s got an edgy side, you thought, stepping back to close the door. Whatever picture you were beginning to form of Aki was still incomplete, but one thing was clear: this man valued control and order.

You decided to mind your business and focus on your task. Returning to the bedroom, you stripped the bed, bundling the linens into a neat pile. The mattress beneath was bare and spotless, further testament to the house’s almost eerie cleanliness. As you worked, your mind wandered.

Why had he hired you? The briefing had been thorough, but it was always the practical details: the contract, the expectations, the rules. It never delved into the personal motivations behind the arrangement. Was he one of the lonely ones, craving companionship without complications? Or was this a calculated move, a facade for career or family? This place was unnerving in its perfection. You’d lived in luxurious homes before, but they’d always carried a sense of life, of personality. This house felt like a stage, a beautiful but hollow set piece.

None of my business, you reminded yourself firmly. You’d learned early on not to pry. The men who hired you weren’t looking for therapists or confidants. They wanted a wife, and you were here to play the part. Nothing more.

With the sheets bundled under one arm, you headed to the laundry room.

Aki always looked forward to Fridays. It was her day. Every Friday at 7 o’clock sharp, his wife – yes, not yet ex wife, because they hadn’t actually started the process of a divorce yet – would meet him at Prime Cut for a steak dinner. They would undoubtedly catch up, talk about the week they had spent apart, and Aki would inevitably try to convince her to take him back like the pathetic man he was.

His watch read 6:59. She was always punctual. 

Anxiously, he fiddled with his appearance – smoothing his hands over his suit jacket, his slacks, his hair. He couldn’t see how he looked, but he hoped he looked put together. His eyes darted around nervously, searching for signs of her.

And there, at 7 o’clock sharp, she walked in. He caught a glimpse of her hair first – pink locks braided into that signature hairstyle of hers that he had grown to love. The one he had seen her do in the early hours of the morning before they had to leave for work; boar-hair brush combing through the rosy strands while she braided them. He would sit on the bed and watch her like the lovestruck fool he was.

Makima looked as polished as ever.

Aki stood up, walking over to the other side of the table and pulling the chair out for her (again, like the dog he was). She took it, muttering a soft, Thanks, and Aki’s heart soared at the sound, at the smell of her. She carried the aroma of something floral and fresh, a new perfume, no doubt. Aki, as desperate as ever, wore the same cologne he wore when the two of them were still husband and wife (as opposed to whatever they were now) in the selfish hope that she might be reminded of those days.

He cleared his throat, heart racing against his ribcage. “How was your trip over here?” He asked. “You look lovely.”

Makima smiled, adjusting the hem of her pretty red dress, the one with a low-cut neckline that revealed a tasteful amount of cleavage and accentuated the beautiful curves of her body. “It was provincial.”

"Provincial?" he echoed with a faint smile, his attempt at humor falling flat. "Did you walk here?”

"Why would I?" she teased, her tone light but her gaze sharp. She picked up the menu without waiting for his response, flipping through it leisurely. "Let’s not waste time, Aki. Order for me. You know what I like."

"Of course," he murmured, signaling the waiter. His hands trembled slightly as he recited her usual order—A glass-and-a-half of merlot, and a beer for him.

The silence between them stretched thin as they waited for their food. Aki cleared his throat again, desperate to fill the void. "Work’s been… busy. I had a case this week that reminded me of the ones we used to handle together."

Makima arched an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "Still clinging to the past, I see."

They had only been apart for six months, in his defense. Compared to the eight years they had spent together, it wasn’t nearly enough time.

"I’m not clinging," he lied, his voice cracking slightly. "Just… reminiscing."

"Hmm," she hummed noncommittally, taking a sip of her water. "And how’s your health? Still smoking like a chimney?"

"I’ve cut back," he said quickly, eager to please. "Only a couple a day now."

Her lips curled into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "Progress, I suppose."

The tension between them was palpable, and Aki felt himself floundering. He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the small velvet box he’d been carrying all week. Taking a deep breath, he pulled it out and set it on the table between them.

Makima’s eyes flicked to the box, her expression finally betraying a glimmer of curiosity. "What’s this?"

"A gift," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "For you."

She hesitated for a moment before picking up the box, her manicured fingers deftly undoing the clasp. Inside was a pair of delicate diamond earrings, the stones catching the soft light of the restaurant. They were understated but elegant, just like her.

"They reminded me of you," Aki said, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it. "I thought… I thought you might like them."

Makima studied the earrings for a long moment before closing the box with a soft click. "They’re lovely," she said, her tone neutral. 

“Try them on,” Aki implored her.

“I’ll try them on later,” She replied, and Aki visibly deflated at the words.

A tense moment passed, and then, finally Aki acknowledged the elephant in the room, “How is everything with your… your husband?”

The words felt like knives in his chest.

Makima tilted her head slightly, a faint smile gracing her lips. "My marriage is… good. Stable. He’s dependable, attentive, and he listens." Her tone was measured, almost clinical, as though she were describing a well-functioning machine rather than a relationship. "Everything I’ve always wanted."

Aki felt his stomach drop, her words a cold slap to his face. He tried to smile, nodding as though he could be happy for her, but the ache in his chest told a different story. "That’s good," he murmured, his voice hollow. "I’m glad."

But he wasn’t glad. Not even a little. 

The image of her with another man, sharing the moments that had once been his, twisted like a knife in his gut. He wanted to be the bigger person, to wish her well and mean it, but the truth was, he couldn’t. Not when every word she spoke felt like another reminder of how he had failed her. 

Instead, what came out was, “I don’t know why you want to go through with this fake marriage stuff. It doesn't make sense. How long are you going to drag this out?”

“I’m happier this way,” She answered calmly, like she was talking about the weather and not her other marriage. “And you’re desperate. It’s not attractive.”

Her words hurt. Bad. The slightest flinch in his expression probably betrayed that much, but he couldn’t help it. She always knew exactly what to say to keep him up at night. 

With a frown, he retorted, “You’re punishing me. What do I have to do to show you I’m sorry?”

Makima’s demeanor shifted enough for Aki to know he had pissed her off – even if she didn’t explicitly say it. Her eyes darkened, glazed over with that apathetic haze he hated as she asked, “I’m punishing you?”

Aki said nothing, letting his gaze fall to the floor. She was right. For what he did, he probably deserved this.

“Do  you really not understand the gravity of your situation?” She added, as if asking him to reiterate didn’t hurt enough. Her hands were folded neatly atop the table, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes full of nothing but apathy – yet her words bore a sharpness that cut deep. “Every day that I had to wake up and look at you was my punishment. I’m doing you a favor.”

When he said nothing, she continued, “If you don’t go through with this, Aki, you will never… see me again. I can promise you that much.”

His stomach was tied up in knots – a heady feeling of nausea burning its way up the back of his throat. It felt as if his heart had been ripped right out of his chest. Still, though he felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, he built up the strength to nod.

He deserved this, didn’t he? 

“Let’s wrap up early,” Makima sighed, dusting off her lap and standing up. “I can eat at home.”

Aki’s gaze flitted up to her, heart racing. “What?” He tried, “Sit down, let’s eat. You’ve only been here for a little while.”

She didn’t even look at him as she shouldered her bag and gathered her belongings – including his earrings. “No, thanks,” She replied. “I lost my appetite,” When she was ready to go, she finally looked at Aki (and made him wish she hadn’t). “My husband is waiting outside.”

I’m your husband.

Not him.

Me.

Aki didn’t miss the way she put emphasis on the word husband – as if this little infatuation wasn’t a contractual one. Six months of this shit was enough to have him at his wits end. Again, the thought of her happy with someone else, even if it wasn’t real…. It was enough to drive him up the wall, keep him up at night.

He furrowed his brows, “I only get to see you once a week, Makima. Can’t we–”

“That’s more than enough,” She interjected. Again, her words cut deep. 

“We’re married,” He reminded her, though it left a bitter taste in his mouth. Could he even call their relationship a marriage? They lived in two separate homes, had two separate lives, and – as of today – had two separate spouses. “We’re supposed to see each other every day, if you want to be technical.”

“In principle, yes,” She added. Her voice was calm, calculated, but the message was harsh, “In practice, I can hardly bear to look at you. We’re not husband and wife anymore. If you want to keep seeing me, then that’s something you’ll have to come to terms with.”

Then, without so much as a goodbye, she walked away.

Aki sat there long after Makima had left, the cold, untouched plate of food mocking him as the restaurant buzzed on around him. His heart felt like it had been ripped to shreds and left on the table beside her empty chair. He tipped his head back, letting out a quiet breath, the warmth of the restaurant doing nothing to stave off the chill settling in his chest.  

His fingers brushed the rim of his glass, and before he could think better of it, he motioned to the waiter. "Another round," he said, his voice gruff.  

The drinks kept coming, and with every sip, the edges of his heartbreak dulled just a little. He told himself it wasn’t to drown his pain but to find clarity in the haze. Makima's words echoed in his mind, over and over: “We’re not husband and wife anymore."

By the time he paid the tab, his limbs felt heavy, his thoughts muddled. The world tilted slightly as he stood, stuffing his wallet into his jacket pocket. At least he didn’t have to drive, he thought, as he stepped out into the cool night air. The bar was only a few blocks away from his place, and walking was safe—safer than going home and facing the emptiness waiting for him there.  

But instead of heading to his apartment, his feet carried him somewhere else. He didn’t even realize where he was going until he stood at the corner near Makima’s building, the faint glow of her apartment windows visible against the dark sky.  

His better judgment screamed at him to turn back, to leave her alone. But drunk, heartbroken, and full of misplaced determination, Aki walked toward her building. The thought of her with him—her so-called “husband”—gnawed at his insides.  

His lips on her hand, her skin, her neck…

His stomach twisted. That box had meant something. He’d agonized over it—picked out the perfect earrings, wrapped it carefully, written her name in his cleanest handwriting. And now it sat here, abandoned, like it meant nothing at all.  

Aki’s jaw clenched as his gaze flicked up to the second-story window, drawn to the warm glow spilling out onto the street. She was there. Makima. Her silhouette was unmistakable, standing close—too close—to the man beside her. Aki’s breath hitched as she leaned in, her head tilting just enough for him to see the way her lips pressed against the other man’s.  

Not just a kiss. A deep, lingering one.  

The world around him spun as nausea clawed its way up his throat. His chest burned, his heart thudding painfully against his ribs. His hands balled into fists at his sides, and without thinking, he pulled out his phone, fumbling to unlock it with freezing, clumsy fingers.  

He tapped her name. The phone rang. Once. Twice. His eyes stayed glued to the window, hoping—praying—that she would step back, check her phone, and answer. But no. The call went to voicemail.  

“Ah, shit,” he muttered under his breath, tapping redial with shaking fingers.  

It rang again, louder in his ear this time, but it ended the same way. No answer.  

He let out a bitter laugh, his voice cracking under the weight of it all. Of course, she wouldn’t pick up. Not now.

He called one more time, his voice barely a whisper as he stared up at that now-dark window. “Pick up, damn it. Pick up.”  

Nothing.  

His gaze dropped back to the car, and the box sitting in the backseat felt like a cruel reminder of everything he’d lost—or maybe everything he never really had. His breathing quickened, the alcohol amplifying the surge of anger and humiliation in his chest. He spotted a rock near the edge of the driveway, half-buried in dirt.  

The rational part of him—the one that normally reined in his impulses—was drowning in whiskey and despair. He stumbled over, grabbed the rock, and staggered back toward the car.  

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he muttered, raising the jagged stone. “She’s ridiculous. I’m ridiculous.”  

The rock crashed through the car window with a deafening shatter. Glass sprayed across the seat as the alarm screamed into the cold night air. Aki winced at the sound, his heart pounding as he shoved his arm through the broken window to grab the box. The shards scratched his hand, but he didn’t care. He yanked the box out and stumbled back, clutching it tightly in his arms like it was some kind of trophy.  

But before he could even catch his breath, he saw it: the unmistakable flash of red and blue lights cutting through the darkness.  

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, his stomach dropping.  

A patrol car rolled up slowly, its headlights illuminating him in harsh, unforgiving light. He froze, his grip on the box tightening as two officers stepped out. One of them shone a flashlight directly into his face, and he squinted, raising a hand to shield his eyes.  

“Sir, step away from the vehicle,” one of them said firmly, their voice sharp and no-nonsense.  

Aki opened his mouth, but his brain was too foggy to form a coherent excuse. “Uh... I can explain—”  

“It looks like you broke into a car,” the other officer cut in, their tone laced with skepticism.  

“Yeah, okay, fine, it is what it looks like,” Aki admitted, the weight of the situation crashing down on him all at once.  

The officer sighed, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”  

“Come on,” Aki groaned, his voice slurred as he stumbled forward. “This isn’t... this isn’t even about the car, it’s—it’s personal.”  

“Personal or not, you just committed a crime,” the officer replied.  

Aki felt the cold steel of the cuffs bite into his wrists as they clicked shut. His head swam as they guided him toward the patrol car, the box slipping from his grasp and falling onto the pavement. He glanced back over his shoulder, his heart sinking further when he saw her apartment. The lights had gone out, the window now dark and empty.  

As they pushed him into the backseat of the car, Aki leaned his head against the window, closing his eyes. “Great,” he muttered bitterly. “Just fucking great.”

a/n: if you haven't already, you should totally read my other aki story, Shameless! okay thats all, bye lovelies, hope you enjoyed! stay tuned!!! x

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found the cover pic on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

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[imkazz]

finished saiki k and i am not coping well

yeahh i get why they said theres no development until the last 2 episodes. because i have thoughts. more than i had for season 2 or season 1.

@peapodsinspace ing because this isnt from discord and i was freaking out with you real time when i was watching loll

cannot believe this is only about three episodes. how is this just three???? im just going to go in chronological order and hope for the best and barely proofread loll

the future talks. ohhh i am ill about the future talks. saiki kusuo has more pressing matters than his future and it kills me every time. because he cant focus on himsef- there is an active volcano that he has always been rewinding time for. he cannot have the time to think about university or a future career until this is all over, which is so unlike me (a normal teenager) that it makes me ill because this is what a normal teenager should be thinking about, not the fucking country that you have to save by yourself. and at least i was so happy that they were crowding around kusuos desk until they started talking about the very future that he has to save, and then i was even happier to hear that kuboyasu and hairo want to become teachers because those types of characters always kill me (despite the fact that the anime also made fun on the fact that it is a trope too) and they are both really good picks from the gang to actually become them. i also enjoyed the quiz game they did to guess kusuos college- teruhashi was the only one to get a ‘hm good guess’ out of kusuo, and his chosen places are literally ‘economics’ ‘literature’ ‘literature’ and the fact that everyone said “thats so normal”in distaste implies that they believe that kusuo could do better. and then THIS.

and the fact kusuo thinks “maybe this could go on forever…” with a smile on his face???? like my dude you are wayy too attached to them noww..

ok so it seems i might even just. be doing a paragraph per episode. now.

the robot?? i agree with what i said my first watch: WHY IS THE SAIKI FAMILY SO DEPENDANT ON GENERATIVE AI AND ROBOTS. i wasnt sure which one it would do- if it would fool all his friends or if it would be too suspicious for them. but i was dead wrong- it says ‘yare yare’ too many times and it is obviously saiki kusuo in the flesh (get it?). i was growing more concerned (and out of breath from laughing) at all the shenanigans that happened along with how kusuo attempted to get rid of it, showing a bit more of his battle iq and intelligence along with his relationships with the other psychics, through his quick strategizing along with utilising his abilities to help in specific situations, along with the relationships he has cumulated with them in order to get them to trust him and follow his word when serious times arise. not only that, but kusuke gets additional information about all of that along with us the audience because he is also a part of the audience (my brain hurts from some of this stuff). 

then for the battle. i am illllllll. so. for many many episodes, we have watched kusuo try and make plans to avoid his friends in all sorts of situations. but this bit? its golden. he finds a disadvantage from not knowing what toritsuka has been doing all week, and that temporarily weakens him until he comes up with a new plan on the given information he knows and has pieced together himself, and then used it to get his body back. then not only that, he begins to fight without his limiter. and we know its hard even with the limiter!! we watched him struggle to throw balls, and then practice to ensure that he could control his strength. amazing already, but then he begins to turn a bad situation into something favourable especially with toritsuka in the mix. because both saiki brothers are smart af. even if toritsuka isnt of use, kusuke reuses him as a hostage and then when that doesnt work, himself and the limiter (all things important to kusuo). kusuo is able to put together that the bomb was fake because kusuke spoke for too long and he remembered aiuras word and trusts her power. 

and then the battle plan is so smart?? kusuo is able to use his disadvantages as advantages (teleportation doesnt need the 3 minute cooldown), and then purposefully drained his strength to be able to pick up the limiter and put it back into his head without breaking it. he could read toritsukas mind and realised that he didnt actually hate kusuo (i found how this was shown as really cool too? instead of the background it was soft shapes and colours implying friendliness as it showed both of them). he made enough of a friendship with toritsuka to get him not to hate him even after being brainwashed. kusuo dragged out the battle to try and gauge what the cat tank could do. AND HES SEVENTEEN. what shocked me further was the fact that he took out the limiter. which he thought would reveal his powers to the world. sure its an asshole thing of kusuke to say/do to kusuo but he at least disabled it a long time ago. but im more focused on kusuo. he took it out. he took it out. thats HUGE. he really thought he would be letting go of normalcy and never be able to go to school without being worshipped. and he did it on his own terms. i was so happy to see how he was smiling and happy thinking about his friends too.. like kusuo was happy with the time he spent with them as a normal kid. but then he was so ready to blast them with full power after both of their comments lolll. and i also found it interesting how kusuke took off his telepathy blocker when explaining why he disabled it so that his brother could know he was telling the truth. and the fact that they moved past the fact that kusuke made a limiter that completely erases kusuos powers?!??!?! and i was confused when toritsuka and kusuo moved past it so easily but. thank fuck they revisited that tidbit???? what made me sadder was the fact that kusuo wanted it so badly, and yet couldnt. because of the volcano. it was good foreshadowing when kusuo thought ‘move forwards.. theyre right. i should clean this up quickly’ in the first part of the episode and then to have this too.. the emotional turmoil is too much. on one hand he could get rid of powers he hates and yet he still has to save the world which he has been putting on hold because he needs more power. like yeah please kill me now, especially that last interaction between toritsuka and kusuo. like yeah hes fake mad at toritsuka at first but then he has to give his genuine thanks because there was no way kusuo would have won if it was just himself, as toritsuka was a key part of the battle from his new powers to his status as a hostage to the fact he broke past the brainwashing.

and when they finally start planning that trip (callback to the first segment of episode one!!) and they decide upon the place where an active volcano has tried to blow up for four years. absolute madlads. kusuo diverted them at first but its a comedy anime too- ofc they are going to oshimai.

and everyone asking why he cant go is hillarious too.. “what plans do you have?” “im sure its nothing important!” ‘im saving the world?!’ yeahhh he has to go, because he cares. he doesnt want them to cancel what they think is their last fun time together before third year. its not because his mom forced him. its because he loves them. the cumulation of four years with these losers has made kusuo soft for them.

when they actually get to oshimai, i would have loved to watch their shenanigans. im sure they are chaos incarnate while on a play date with each other, but i really liked how the anime showed the tension that kusuo had. even as the rest of them were having lighthearted conversations, there was always a pit in my stomach as kusuo continued to refer to the mountain and was generally downcast while the group did all of those activities i would have previously have laughed at if it was not for the huge threat right there and despite the fact that kusuo looks the same as always (silent, in the background, neutral face) i felt nervous because he had said so just barely a minute ago and hadnt mentioned again. its shown through the way he allowed teruhashi to do as she pleased, how he would look at the mountain constantly, not say anything mentally to the audience.. it was offputting and really set the vibes. his face reflected in the window, with owari yama right there too? perfect way to end the segment.

i found it clever how saiki used a previous part to help him: the robot. he now knows that nobody suspects anything if he just says ‘yare yare’ and he now uses this with his hypnosis (seen in many episodes, such as s1 ep 24) to mesh together a perfect stand in (according to his friends OOF). and then he uses the clones (from s2 ep22) to help with the eruption (s2 ep13). not only that, his plan is pretty good. he has already used toritsuka as a stand in (when kusuo turned kaido and nendo into stone) and then aiura has already helped him with a previous eruption which he had to turn back time on. it was also a callback to kusuo in the previous episode: no way kusuo would have asked kusuke for help on how to solve the volcano problem if they had not cleared some things up after the fight, and no way would he have if there was no power canceller, and no way if the limiter being pulled would still tell the world about his powers. this is a big climax towards things that the plot has been working towards, and it is a mix of everything: many specific instances, his training, previous lore, character development, his friends and family, kusuos priorities, his emotional stances. they all played some sort of part in his plan to enable time to move forwards.

i was concerned to see him beat up (because looookkk hes just two years older than mee and also pretty oppp) but i was so fuckin pumped that time was moving forwards and he was also pretty happy, given the smile. and the joy immediately left. because everyone showed up, and then to show that alternate universe where things were almost the same but slightly different?? and the fact that kusuo literally told all of them about his powers because he knew he could go back in time and erase all of that? its killing me because he did that because he knew he could experiment for a reaction and then erase it as if nothing actually happened. and it really seems like theres no getting out of it right. his friends saw him, they see the clones, they see toritsuka faking as kusuo, they see the real kusuo holding the ground and preventing the eruption. theres no lying to get out of it. but the same as i thought from the shipwrecked episodes, of course saiki kusuo gets out of it. kaido realises it too and he just wants the truth because he trusts kusuo so much. its been there since the beginning, how much kaido cares about saiki and wants him to be happy because kusuo has made kaido happy, and how much kaido values their friendship. he has always wanted kusuo to remain safe and happy and to be friends with each other.. we see how the rest of them just want kusuo to tell the truth, because they will love him no matter what. and it was shown through the alternate timeline, too, how they dont care about the powers, even if they dont understand, that they know kusuo and know that he has their best interests in mind because he is their friend. and somehow its nendo who is the reasonable one, we have seen him be kind and understanding towards both kusuo and others at so many instances but it is this one that touches kusuo because nendo has always been there for him, throughout all sorts of situations. sure he is dumb, but nendos strength is not athletics. it is his kindness. 

then the fact that everyone agrees with him.. theres no way this is a comedy anime. this is a slice-of-life coming-of-age angst/horror anime which has comic relief.  it was shown through the alternate timeline, too, how they dont care about kusuos powers, even if they dont understand, that they know kusuo and know that he has their best interests in mind because he is their friend. and he knows that even if it is a different timeline, that they would still remain the same in the stance. so he speaks. with his mouth. its huge!! his eyes are shiny because this is absolute confirmation that they would love him even if they knew that about him, because he has given them the same treatment- he has seen a huge part of them that they dont share, and he still loves them, so the opposite is also true. ..but he cant share it yet, not until his powers are gone of course. and it makes sense, of course. if i was one of his friends, i would prefer learning about that after his powers are gone- and this is a decision he is sure about. kusuos powers have caused him so much suffering. while he has many typical teenager traits, he is all in all, incredibly different due to his enlarged responsibilities over himself and the world. sure, his powers have helped him in many situations, but for kusuo, the bad outweigh the good and this has been his ultimate goal for a very long time. while removing his powers will not get rid of the weirdness surrounding him, it will get rid of a lot of the pain and stress. and i was so fucking excited when hairo said that kusuo called everyone over- because we the audience know what will be happening. and it would definitely be for the best, as kusuo really wants to apologise for many of the things that happened because of his powers. 

and then the fucking window.

then this is why im very happy for the watch order to be posted. because this cliffhanger is too much without reawakened episode 6.

i find it so funny that while kusuo has lost his powers, that he still has the ability to break the fourth wall. when asked if his delusions are the same as kaido in middle schooler syndrome, he has to reply with an “absolutely not”. i love how he is feeling the effects of losing his powers. he has relied on his powers as another limb his entire life, and they are suddenly gone. even if they are overall bad, he still used them daily and isnt used to life without it because he was forced to live with it previously, meaning that he would find some use through the disadvantages. i also really liked how while kusuo could very blatantly feel the loss, he could also appreciate the beauties of normal life. actually be able to see his friends rather than just a skeleton, probably have a peaceful sleep, any of those powers he couldnt turn off have finally done so and he has a lot less weight as a result. it is really interesting to watch him try and get out of situations he would have previously avoided using his powers, as he has to rely on his own intuition and chance rather than himself and his abilities. 

but it is an anime, and god hates him, so kusuo is stuck with teruhashi on their project. he sees the disadvantages everywhere- things that normal people are used to but he is not, and it seems like good representation for disability- having something and then suddenly having it gone, so you are only left with routines that are no longer possible because you are missing a key component. and not only that, there are hinders towards kusuos journey. 

he gets a fucking bookshelf toppled over onto him. huhhhhhh???? would you really go so far as to kill a kid for accidentally becoming partners with a girl for one school project?? and i was also confused until i saw nendo- in all his glory. seriously, this guy is insanely good at protecting people without a single thought beforehand (he has to get it from his dad right). and not only that, we watch toritsuka and kuboyasu against the bullies- two people insanely good at beating people up. this is a great place to show some character development- nendo gives a speech to kusuo about how even the strongest can need protecting, and it is shown with how nendo instinctively went to protect him from the bookcase and toritsuka/kuboyasu went to beat up the ones who caused it.. finally kusuo himself can get protected by his friends. because he isnt used to it in the slightest. he desperately wanted to get rid of the powers without fully realising how much he relied on them for daily life. even in dangerous situations he would subconsciously rely on powers he doesnt have anymore, and he even realises it and doubts his decision. but nendo comes in and saves it and i find that very precious and important to kusuo to realise that he doesnt always have to be the overpowered one because there are people around him who still care regardless.

but it doesnt last. he cannot even get used to having no powers because they come back only two days later. the way it was presented was pretty cool, too, with how kusuos hand made an indent into the wall from where he slammed it, to the thought bubble from kusuke. and i also thought the way the dawning horror was shown was pretty cool. the purple and blue spirals towards a terrified kusuo without his limiters or glasses, at night, while kusuke continues talking and says that kusuo has evolved past being human in order to control his powers? yeah terrifying, i felt the horror in me too. because how long had he been evolving for? if hed gotten rid of the powers faster, would it have worked? if he hadnt spent so long on the volcano, could he be normal? was he ever actually normal? was it only recently since his body had changed to adapt? because with his body, kusuo relies on his powers. it could be compared to another heart, or a limb. his body needs powers because that is what they are used to. eyes that see through skin, a brain that can hear thoughts, muscles that are used to carrying boulders.. the list goes on and it shows that he has no choice but to use powers, as his mind has always been on fixing problems using parts of him that he has always had, his own biology has been on that. yeah psychological horror much.

the fact that it doesnt work. being told to live normally and peacefully without thinking about his powers doesnt work. because kusuo is far too used to them, he doesnt even think before using them for the little things in daily life such as opening the door or pushing in his seat. its like a papercut on your finger and only then do you realise how much you use that finger all the time- he doesnt realise it until its too late. and then he continues to remain ignorant until it actually happens, such as clairvoyance and new (useless) powers forming. he is already too used to it that he uses them without realising, because that was his normal. kusuo can also realise this with his dawning terror at each thing that happens with his power, with the foreboding patterns with dark colours and his horrified face. he is trying so hard to deny it because even if there are good things that come with his powers, ultimately, they cause him suffering. but it doesnt even fucking work.

its really sad to see him accidentally use powers, as they come back swiftly. kusuo is trying so hard to deny his symptoms but there is really no use: the illness is back. he teleported home, used clairvoyance, talked using telepathy, went invisible, used psycokinesis, saw through someone.. theres too many to deny that his powers are back. but kusuke asks valid questions: did anything good happen without them? and the answer is kusuo thinking about the bookshelf incident. because there are both good and bad things from it, he had to get protected and was weakened by the fact he couldnt see it coming, but it was good to know that so many people are willing to protect him. but then theres a fucking meteor. its also a manipulative thing for kusuke to do, asking that question and then thrusting a natural disaster upon his brother going through an existential crisis. because kusuo has a choice to make. he could try and suppress the powers even further and live a normal life until the end and let kusuke deal with it as that is the path that he chose. or kusuo could accept that the powers are a part of him and that people will still love him regardless, and make the choice to save the world and possibly never live normally again. and its a shitty situation all around. a seventeen year old should not have to make such a choice.

and yet he has to. because kusuo can hear his friends pleading for help, their fear, their reactions, confusion. kusuo knows he cannot have his father do something of this scale, or let his brother do something like that to their dad. he cant let the meteor hit earth because everyone he loves is there. kusuo was always one to complain verbally(mentally) about shit he gets wrapped up in, but from the context clues and his actions throughout the series, he has shown just how much he cares and tries to help even with how much he drags his feet and complains and insults. because all kusuo wants is for his friends to be happy, and to live normally. but those two things cannot coexist, at least not for long. and then he smiled. he chooses their happiness, because that is the kind of person kusuo is. he has said that he is a psychic in so many situations and for so many reasons, but at the start and end of the series, it is the same ten words.

“so my life of peace is over, but i feel that is not so bad after all.. perhaps i like to deal with hassles after all. yare yare. my name is saiki kusuo. and i am a psychic.”

[likeadog]

writing an email in my native language: Hey! Hope this email finds you well. Thanks for your time and consideration

writing an email in a diff language: Buna dimineata! Imi pare rau pentru indraznesc sa enerva îți, ucizi mine, va rog, pentru meu păcat de moarte. Mulţumesc. La revedere.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

soon it'll be dawn again

transcript under the cut ⏬

page 01

Fig: no way? - you're still up?

Riz: Wh– yes?

Riz: Why'd I not be.

page 02

Fig: I me~~ean - that took.

Fig: whole day.

Riz: Yeah?

Fig: 'm beat.

Riz: you should sleep.

page 03

Fig: nah. my guy's still up

Fig: I wanna hang out.

page 04

Riz: That's really nice.

Fig: Hah! - Nobody ever expects an Archdevil rockstar to be nice.

Riz: … yeah. - 's just budget work tho. (the stuff I'm working on) - I've heard it's boring.

page 05

Fig: yeah, but you do it…

Riz: It keeps things going, right? - Nothing happens if nobody sits down and - does the thing.

Fig: That's right… - though. Yeah.

page 06

Fig: sometimes it's someone else who - doesn't want the same thing to happen.

Riz: … - mm.

page 07

Riz (off screen): …It took me a long time to get that not everyone likes doing what I do. - 's probably because you guys are so nice– - or. - kind.

Riz (off screen): to anyone too, not just. - the people you /love/.

page 08

Riz: that's not how it is elsewhere. - The world's– not. hostile. - but 's not like it's kind.

Riz: So I'm doing as much as I can now… 

page 09

Fig: Hey.

Riz: ?

Fig: Go dig some dirt with me.

page 10

Riz: [blank speech bubble] - oh you meant like - actual dirt. (not incriminating information)

Fig: o yea.

Fig: there's clay in the backyard soil. - sometimes when I'm sun deficient or something I go touch dirt for a bit.

page 11

Fig: here u go

page 12

Riz: uh

Fig: now we make a thing! - 'm pretty good at freehanding a bowl.

Fig: I'll show u

page 13

Fig: just– yep, flatten that out as evenly as u can, then–! - actually ur nails'd be so good at cutting out the strip. [larger than usual space] wait. - wait. wait u can carve patterns with them! we HAVE to try

Riz: uh - What. do I carve?

Fig: anything!!!

page 14

Fig: and– yep just seal the inside uh. seam?

Fig: yep that works - okay time's up! all contestant hands up

Riz: [blank speech bubble] - okay - wh. what's next?

Fig: haha - watch this.

(sound effect text): FWOO—MP

page 15

Riz: WH– DON'T JUST DO THAT???

Fig: Now it's fired!

Riz: THAT WAS NOT SAFE

Fig: (actually it's just dry. if u add water rn it'll dissolve)

Fig: ok catch!

Riz: [blank speech bubble] - careful!!

Fig: dw no need haha

page 16

Riz (thought bubble): oh - it's warm…

Fig: now I want you to throw this.

page 17

Fig: u gotta do it - c'mon

page 18

Riz: wh– - It's like 3AM right now

Fig: oh it's not /fired/ fired it's not gonna make a loud noise

Riz: And then just? leave a pile out here?

Fig: pour water over it & it'll be gone I told u

Riz: but

page 19

Fig (off screen): RIz.

page 20

Fig: I've done all this before.

Fig: Can you trust that at least?

page 21

Riz: no, I– - I do. - I trust you.

page 23

Riz: okay what happens now

(sound effect text): glob

page 24

Fig: we do it again!

page 25

Riz: wh. [larger than usual space] What do you mean. (this clay's too wet also)

Fig: see! you're already learning

Fig: [blank speech bubble] - there are flows that are futile to fight. - The world changes.

Fig: Things change.

page 26

Fig: I've learned my lessons with "forevers". - But - as an artist

Fig: I can give you one thing: - You can always do it again.

page 27

Fig: most of everything depends on the rest of the world, - but this. - making new. - that's yours as long as you want it.

page 28

Fig: So?

page 29

Riz: Yeah. - Yeah! - let's make another one.

[cubbihue]

If Timmy struggled with adjusting to magic because he was raised on earth, does that mean this is the reason Peri also struggles? Since in his early years he grew up on earth with his parents?

Yup! There's a multitude of reasons why Peri struggles so much, but they all lie in his origins. Peri was born from a wish! And Wishes, well. They're not meant to last long. Most wishes become unstable as the years go by, but Peri's persisted because he's an entire living being!

CosWan initially feared Peri wouldn't grow up properly, but he turned out nearly as fine as any other Fairy would! Probably!!

Growing up on Earth, being related to the VonStrangles, born from a 10 year old's wish, living past the lifespan of wishes, beyond that of humans... Each part is rather small, but when added together, it culminates into a very... very unstable baby.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

Instability: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[s0fter-sin]

soap's whole deal being sniper and demolitions gets me going bc on the surface they sound so different but when you get into it, you realise it's bc soap's smart

sniping is all math; calculating distances and wind interference and bullet drop. something i think people overlook is he was listed as a sniper first so it can be implied that he's better at it than demolitions. he does more sniping in both campaigns than demolitions work; in capture or kill, ghost specifically calls on him to take down the aq snipers

and demolitions is math with a hit of chemistry; knowing what mixes with what, knowing how much to use, recognising environmental factors and adjusting accordingly. it's not just about the boom; so much work goes into contained/ planned explosions. especially when having enough power for a breacher charge and not bringing down the whole building is the difference between mission success and failure

the chemical bombs he makes in alone can't just be any old cleaners, they have to have the correct reaction to each other; he just knew off the top of his head what would mix with what to create what reaction. he would also potentially have to recognise them by sight/smell bc they would’ve been written in spanish

soap would also have to know architecture; recognising structural integrity and weak points so he knows exactly where to plant a charge to bring it down and how it'll come down

he has an incredible soldier's mind people just forget that bc he's sociable which itself is a skill

we know he tends to buck against orders he doesn't agree with like when he pushes back against ghost in capture or kill and shepherd when he tells them to release hassan

he gets closer to people and sees if he can trust them and that's when he follows them without question. really think about how he talks to alejandro and rudy; he asks about their home and alejandro's family and rudy's relationship with him. those aren't questions you ask a stranger after a few hours of knowing them. that's not even touching on his relationship with ghost

he also deliberately brings people of higher ranks down to his level; talking informally with ghost and giving him a shoulder punch, addressing alejandro (a colonel!!) by his first name and rudy by his nickname despite literally just meeting them. he personalises all of them and it’s in direct opposition to the reason most characters do that; it’s not due to insubordination or lack of respect, the more he respects and trusts someone, the more casual he is with them

he digs into people; he wants to know what makes them tick and that determines if he can one, trust them and two, follow their orders. once he decides that, he's the ultimate soldier; he bleeds loyalty which makes him vicious when that loyalty is taken for granted

he isn't naive or bubbly or insecure; he's an incredibly smart and aware soldier. he's aggressive and bloodthirsty and loyal and intuitive and i love him so much

[crystallizsch]

jhgnngggn i’m back to thinking about post-nrc yuusha and jamil--- extremely long ramble below prepare for uh angst??? i guess???

i buried some of these lore in the tags somewhere but anyways-

yuusha and jamil exchanged hair ties when they separated and went off on their own post-nrc as a way to "remember each other by".

they both have different plans for their own futures despite wanting to be "together"— whatever that means. yuusha stayed at nrc working as staff and jamil is out travelling.

at this point though they STILL never officially “dated” but oh they were so so close SO many times to putting a label on it.

“what happened then” <- idk man they’re incredibly stupid. yuusha is still horribly noncommittal and jamil is- jamil. (“…the hell does that mean” <- SHHHH i will not elaborate)

they ended as just "really good friends" (something something on they’re on the spectrum of queerplatonic but they didn’t understand that that was the case) .

━━━━━━✦

at first they did well keeping in touch from a long distance—

yuusha never forgets to check in on jamil, texting/calling whenever possible, she was always the first to initiate.

and jamil still would’ve made the same effort of course, but yuusha always beats him to it. he sort of just expected her check-ins every day.

and he looks forward to that 1-15 notifications that he gets as soon as he wakes up. it does get him going knowing that she was specifically thinking of him at the start of the day.

that wouldn't last though. eventually, the more yuusha met more people and cultivated new relationships, the more she felt herself grow further and further apart from jamil.

yuusha thrives on physical relationships and the majority of the time the only communication and contact between her and jamil is through the phone.

and so the messages from her became less and less frequent as yuusha got more absorbed and interested in her work and other relationships.

don't get it wrong, she still cared about jamil. loved him even, in her own way.

he just became less of a priority.

━━━━━━✦

it was bittersweet to think that jamil finally had the chance to initiate the conversation.

because that meant yuusha had been thinking of him less and he had to remind her himself that— hey he's still there, remember him?— although that's not exactly what he would say. that's a bit too antagonistic and petty. surely, she's just busy. right?

yuusha would respond as if everything was normal. but the usual fondness, the usual warmth, they weren't there. her words through the screen felt dry. forced.

she can use the unnecessary punctuations and emojis she wants but she is not getting past him.

they called. it was nice to hear her voice. but. there's the same feeling of detachment. why are they talking as if this was one of their first times?

yuu, what happened?— is what jamil wanted to ask. but he would also respond nonchalantly. as if everything was normal.

jamil still tried to reach out to her. similar to how she did with him.

but it was to no avail.

their interactions felt too far gone from what they had.

eventually jamil also realized that there was No Point.

if she wasn’t going to make the effort anymore, why should he?

━━━━━━✦

professor yuusha tala walks in to her class which her signature braid and feathered hair tie.

it's lovely having gotten used to working at nrc. her students are surprisingly behaved and she enjoys teasing chatting with her coworkers. surely she isn't missing anything, is she?

and the traveler, jamil viper. he's seen most of the sights, experienced a lot of things. it's like he is slowly fulfilling his childhood dreams.

he ties his hair with the same one he's been using for years. it's a surprise it hasn't snapped yet from how worn out it looks. this really belonged to someone so cheap, huh.

he wonders why he's still using it. he had come across fitting souvenirs that could replace it.

waste of money— jamil convinces himself. besides, this hair tie is fit for every occasion and it's still holding up anyway.

he'll just get a new one when this one finally bites the dust.

if it ever does.

it's really stubborn for a hair tie.

[moeblob]

Impulsively shoving a guy's hand in your mouth after having the thought "oh just like when my little sister used to prick herself on a rose thorn" and then immediately being treated like a pet who ate something they shouldn't have? Wonderful. Thank you, Thane.

(also not pictured is Thane apparently trying to scrape your tongue with his hand BEFORE pouring the holy water down your throat because NO. BAD.)

[mymoshangthoughts]

the amount i wanna explore the immortal alliance is just So Much

okay there are LAYERS to how i feel about these events

because look guys, so far as we understand, airplane is a pretty normal dude. a bit of an internet troll (ok a lot of an internet troll), a horny writer, and an immature punkass who's completely shameless, but like... he's not a mass murderer ya'll.

it KILLS ME that we never got an airplane extra about the immortal alliance because dude HOW HE FELT ABOUT THAT IS A LOT

yeah, he's grown up in this world and yeah he might have had no choice either via the system or via mobei jun or a mix of both, but its absolutely bonkers to be able to just walk off "yeah, a bunch of CHILDREN died in really brutal ways directly because of my influence". like shen yuan was wracked with guilt for years and he only 'killed' one kid and he knew that kid would walk it off.

and i dont buy the explanation that airplane wasn't treating pidw like a real world because frankly... i just dont think that makes any fucking sense if he was born there. yeah, it's gotta feel a bit wonky and unreal with the system in his head, but dude he was BORN here. suspension of disbelief that this world wasn't 'real' wouldnt last a few years, much less several decades. the sheer number of people he would have met, interacted with, and knew were REAL wouldnt make it possible. i do think that he made a huge effort not to get attached to anyone, knowing that bing-ge was gonna kill the fuck out of basically all of them, but theres a big difference between "ahh yeah that guy is gonna die so imma try not to get attached" and "lol ive lived in this world for thirty years but i dont actually think any of this is real"

so look, theres two possibilities for airplane's reaction:

he really does have a seriously fucked up side of him thats 100% okay with murdering children

he was VERY not okay with what happened but he had no choice and he's just Coping the best he can

there's also some answers in-between, but fuck i need to know this answer so badly because knowing the answer to how airplane reacted to the immortal alliance is SO character defining and it drives me insane. characterizing a person who can justify children dying because "not my problem, idc" versus someone who's horrified and traumatized over the part they played in child murder IS KINDA A BIG DIFFERENCE

personally, im coming to a headcanon somewhere in the middle. because tbh none of the airplane extras really spend any time addressing him feeling any sort of guilt over the situation. which does make it seem that he really does have a seriously dark side to him. and he did walk off his fellow disciples getting murdered by mobei jun very easily. but also, i headcanon that he is just the Master of compartmentalizing shit that fucks with him. cant deal with the events of the immortal alliance? thats fine, imma just put those feelings in a box and Never Think About Them.

i actually like to think that airplane's issue with the immortal alliance is the exact reason that mobei jun showed up in person. airplane is doing the immortal alliance thing because the system isnt giving him a choice and he's trying Very Hard not to think about "oh wow, theres gonna be a lot of junior disciples dead by the end of this haha, wow, they look so young ahhahaha, did teenagers always look like toddlers??? bc this is fucking me up REALLY FUCKING BAD" and mobei jun notices that something is Really Wrong with airplane and he cant decide if he's worried or suspicious of airplane's behavior

so he decides to show up in person, just to make sure shang qinghua isnt gonna pull anything but also that the idiot doesnt die while he's acting So Weird

but i think that airplane is like hyper pragmatic

so he's horrified in the planning stages and maybe even in the execution stages, but once it's over he's very much "they're already dead, theres no changing that, theres no point agonizing over it" and its not that he's OKAY with what happened but he literally cannot justify tearing himself apart over people who are dead because that isnt going to help anything. they're not alive to see him upset over it and even if their ghosts could see him, they're not gonna really feel better over dying bc "the guy who killed me feels really bad about it"

i also think that the years airplane spent growing up as shang qinghua play into it A LOT. he's had decades to come to terms with the immortal alliance happening. he knows its a major plot point, it's basically one of two major plot points that shang qinghua has a part in, and the system is unlikely to let him get out of it. so he's spent a longgg time numbing himself to the reality of "im going to murder dozens of children"

this is all my speculations tho and i just wanna rip my hair out that we dont have an immortal alliance extra!!!!!! i just want to KNOW instead of guessing where his head is at. literally, if he doesnt feel any guilt over murdering children, that's kinda a Big Deal characterization-wise. and if he does feel guilt but he doesnt express it thats ALSO a Big Deal characterization-wise!!!

I JUST WANNA BE ABLE TO ACCURATELY PORTRAY HIS PERSONALITY FFFFUUUCCCKKKK I HATE THIS

anyway, im obsessed with the idea that mobei jun is the one who notices when airplane is Not Okay even when he's compartmentalizing like crazy. like airplane is so far down his hole of "its nbd and idc" that he actually believes it. he has to believe it to be able to live with himself. but the way he's fucked up shows up in other ways, maybe he's more forgetful than normal or scattered or clumsier or some mixture and mobei jun just Knows something is wrong, even when he doesnt know exactly what that wrong thing is

and like it becomes this thing where sometimes mobei jun knows airplane better than the little shit knows himself. airplane is so busy lying to himself to cope with his new reality and mobei jun sees through the lies that airplane believes.

but heres where mobei jun hits a problem lol. like, he knows theres something wrong, he knows how to read shang qinghua suupperr well, but does he know what to DO about any of that? absolutely not lmfao

"hm. qinghua is not okay. i should beat him four times today" LIKE THIS MAN DOES NOT KNOW HOW TO HELP EVEN WHEN HE UNDERSTANDS THE PROBLEM AND THAT'S HILARIOUS TO ME

like mobei jun shows up to the immortal alliance like "qinghua has been in pain over this. i'll show up unplanned and beat the shit out of him in front of everyone. that'll help."

i just think these two are an absolute disaster area and i love it

btw i am desperate for mobei jun's pov during the immortal alliance okay because LOOK

I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT IT ALOT

AND IM CONVINCED THAT MOBEI JUN /DID/ HAVE FEELINGS FOR AIRPLANE DURING THAT INCIDENT

BUT ALSO

ITS COMPLICATED

like i dont think mobei jun is simping like binghe, i think he's got some weird mixture of denial and affection and frustration and pining and hatred and suspicion thats all mixed up in all the best ways that during that time he is super in love with airplane but he's also got a lot of other Complicated feelings toward him AND I JUST WANNA SEE HIS POV TO PROVE MY HYPOTHESIS SO FUCKING BADLY WHY THE FUCK DO WE NEVER GET HIS POV IMMA SCREAM

mobei jun's fb status "its complicated"

airplane's fb status "single"

mobei jun: ...........im going to murder him. im going to murder him in his sleep. omfg i hate him so fucking much. WTF DO YOU MEAN SINGLE, YOU ASSHOLE

[aromantic-and-aromatic]

Honestly, I'm all for sephiroth and jenova being practically the same thing bc the repeated use of the word puppet by sephiroth himself feels very ironic and bitter. Telling cloud that he doesn't have emotions, that he was created in a lab and that his memories are fake, all of them. That he didn't have a childhood. Never was a child. And yeah, sephiroth being 100% in control and just very unwell also fits in this, in his projection over cloud being his puppet just like he was Shinra's, even though he would never acknowledge it. But I just like the idea that he believes himself freed from everyone's strings, finally in control of his own life for once, just to be too blind to realize that not even those choices were his own bc following orders is still the only thing he knows