#the liners are a little ridiculous but not wrong

[sivavakkiyar]

[on yt]

[nknoxe-n]

───Love Notes

Synopsis: Otoya likes leaving small love letters for you to find.

Warnings: [stupidly whipped Otoya] [pre established relationship]

w.c 480

It started with one small note. You’d found it tucked into your bag one day—a scrap of paper with a hastily scribbled message:

"You dropped this: my heart. Handle with care."

At first, you thought it was a joke. Otoya had a knack for playful teasing, so this kind of thing wasn’t unusual. But the next day, there was another one, tucked into your coat pocket this time:

"Are you an angel? Because I’m pretty sure heaven’s missing one."

You couldn’t help but laugh when you found it, shaking your head at how absurdly cheesy it was. But then the notes kept coming. Each one was just as corny as the last, and yet, they somehow managed to brighten your day every time.

The real kicker came when you found one slipped into the book you were reading. It wasn’t even a love note this time—just a short little doodle of a heart with an arrow through it and the words, “Thinking of you!” scrawled beneath it.

“You’re relentless, you know that?” you said one day, waving one of his notes in front of him.

Otoya just grinned, leaning lazily against the counter. “What can I say? Keeping you smiling is a full-time job.”

“You don’t think this is a little much?” you teased, though your cheeks were warm with affection.

“Not at all,” he replied smoothly. “If anything, I’m holding back. I’ve got an arsenal of lines that would make you swoon on the spot.”

“Sure you do,” you said, rolling your eyes.

But you didn’t realize how serious he was until you found yet another note—this time, stuck to your mirror:

"Your reflection might be beautiful, but you? You’re breathtaking."

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face, even as you groaned at how shameless he was.

Later that day, you confronted him again, this time brandishing the mirror note like evidence in a trial. “Explain this!”

Otoya looked up from his spot on the couch, feigning innocence. “What? Can’t a guy appreciate his favorite person in the world?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he said, flashing you a playful grin, “you keep every single one of them.”

You froze for a moment, caught off guard. He wasn’t wrong—you had been keeping them. Every single note, every doodle, every cheesy one-liner was stashed away in a small box in your room.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, trying to hide your embarrassment.

“And you’re adorable,” he shot back without missing a beat, pulling you down onto the couch beside him. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and kissed your temple, his voice softening. “I just like seeing you smile. Makes it all worth it.”

Your heart melted a little at that, and you leaned into him, your earlier protests forgotten.

Even as you rested your head on his shoulder, hiding your face, you couldn’t help but wonder when you'd find another.

[peppymintdreams]

isaac and pickle have a movie night

I think i've already written something quite similar but i'll still write it

Movie Night

Isaac Rhoades x Pickle

after they're argument isaac has finally agreed and committed to take a break and fulfill it through a movie night

Isaac sat on the couch, arms crossed and legs stretched out, his serious expression wavering between mild annoyance and quiet amusement as he stared at the TV screen. Around him, the living room was unusually calm, a strange contrast to the cluttered office upstairs where papers typically surrounded him. It felt foreign, this stillness, almost unnatural for someone who thrived in the chaos of private investigations, always chasing leads, clients, and answers.

But tonight wasn’t about work. For once, there were no files, no late-night client calls, no thoughts of deadlines gnawing at the back of his mind. Tonight was about Pickle. The person who had been patiently waiting, subtly dropping hints for weeks, and finally, after their recent argument, insisting that Isaac take a break. A real break. It had been a heated discussion, one that ended with Pickle practically begging Isaac to step away from the constant grind and just enjoy life for a moment.

So here they were, ready for a movie night, a promise Isaac had made ages ago and finally intended to keep. Pickles appeared from the kitchen with an exaggerated amount of snacks piled high in their arms: two large bowls of popcorn, chocolate bars, and a couple of sodas. "Behold, the spoils of our evening," they announced dramatically, setting everything down on the coffee table with a proud grin.

Isaac raised an eyebrow, glancing from the mountain of snacks to Pickle. "I thought this was just a movie night. Are we feeding an entire cinema?"

Pickle chuckled, plopping down next to him in their favorite pajamas, already far more relaxed than Isaac felt. "Well, you’ve been working so much I wasn’t sure if you remembered how to eat properly," they teased, elbowing him playfully. "Besides, snacks are non-negotiable."

Isaac smirked, shaking his head as he reached for the remote. "Right. Wouldn't want to get the ‘snacks wrong,’" he muttered, a hint of sarcasm coloring his tone. But underneath the usual gruff exterior, he felt a sense of relief. It had been far too long since he’d let himself relax like this, no cases, no deadlines, just a quiet night with Pickle.

Pickle grinned, already burrowing into the couch beside him, their head resting lightly on his shoulder. "You’re going to love this," they said, reaching for the popcorn. "It's a ridiculous action movie, nothing too serious. Just explosions, car chases, and bad one-liners."

Isaac sighed, more out of habit than reluctance. He didn’t mind Pickle’s movie choices nearly as much as he let on. "Great," he deadpanned, pressing play. "Explosions and bad one-liners. Exactly what I needed."

The movie began with a loud bang, the sounds of gunfire and dramatic chase scenes filling the room. Isaac tried to focus on the screen, but his attention kept drifting toward Pickle, who was already engrossed in the over-the-top action. They laughed at the cheesy dialogue and leaned further into him, their body warm and comforting against his side. Isaac found himself relaxing, just a little, the weight of his constant responsibilities starting to slip away as he listened to Pickle’s giggles.

“This is so bad,” Pickle laughed, tossing a piece of popcorn into the air and catching it. “I mean, that stunt? Totally impossible. That car literally flew into a helicopter.”

Isaac let out a rare chuckle, shaking his head. "And you picked this, remember?"

"I did, but it's so bad that it’s amazing," Pickle said with a grin, their eyes gleaming with amusement.

Isaac’s smirk softened as he watched them, something warm blooming in his chest. It had been a long time since he allowed himself to sit back and simply enjoy a moment like this. And with Pickle, it was easy. Their joy was infectious. As the movie unfolded with increasingly absurd action scenes, Isaac found himself laughing more than he expected, drawn in by Pickle’s energy.

At some point, Pickle shifted, grabbing a chocolate bar and tearing it open, offering him a piece. Isaac accepted, letting the sweetness melt on his tongue as he realized how rare it was for him to indulge in simple pleasures like this. “Alright,” he admitted after another outlandish explosion rocked the screen. “I’ll concede. This is better than paperwork.”

Pickle gasped dramatically, clutching their chest in mock shock. “Isaac Rhoades, admitting that movie nights are better than work? I’m going to frame this moment.”

Isaac rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t push your luck,” he muttered, but there was no real bite in his tone. He was too comfortable, too content to pretend otherwise.

They continued watching, tossing occasional comments at the absurdity on the screen, while Isaac slowly let his guard down. Pickle snuggled closer, their head resting more heavily on his shoulder, and Isaac wrapped an arm around them, pulling them in without a second thought. The warmth and comfort of the moment settled over him like a blanket, quieting the constant hum of work in his mind.

“See?” Pickle murmured as the movie neared its predictable, explosive finale. “You survived a whole night without cases or clients.”

Isaac smirked, glancing down at them. “Barely,” he teased, though his voice was soft, affectionate. He gave them a light squeeze, grateful for their insistence that he take this break even if he had been resistant at first.

Pickle grinned, clearly pleased with themselves. “I knew you’d like it. And you’re welcome.”

As the movie’s credits rolled, Isaac let out a long, contented sigh. For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t feel the weight of the world pressing down on him. peaceful silence pressing a soft kiss to the top of Pickle’s head, holding them a little tighter as they both drifted into a comfortable silence. For once, the weight of the world could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, Isaac was exactly where he needed to be.

[heygerald]

Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 9

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. When Parker joins Colt on set, things between the siblings gets argumentative. How hard will she try to convince everyone of something only she seems to see?

Read the story here: prev / next

Parker was dying.

Well, no, not really, but she was pretty sure that dying on the inside was the same kind of misery as dying on the outside—something Colt would wholeheartedly disagree with, but, whatever, he wasn't around to dispute such a wild claim—and as she failed at yet another attempt, she quite literally could feel her sanity evaporating like water on a hot summer day. It was ridiculous that the instructions were only five steps; even more ridiculous that there were high school art students who could do this with their eyes closed while gabbing about what the prettiest Met Gala dress of the year was and contemplating what the next Suzanne Collins' book would be.

"I think she should write more prequel books," said high school art student was blabbering on from the other side of the shelf, and while Parker's eyes went crossed and frustration welled like a heavy weight on her chest, Melissa didn't seem to notice as her train of thought continued on a cross-continental journey. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I will always love Katniss and Peeta's story, and hearing about their kids would be interesting, but there are seventy some years of Games that we haven't even heard about yet. That's so much material for her to write about!"

Parker glanced at the mess lying at her feet; tape and paint and abused shelf liner was sprawled around her as if a bomb had just gone off, and while Melissa continued on her fifth monologue of the hour, Parker almost wished one would.

"—did you see it? It was so good. Tom Blythe has to be my new celebrity crush. Right behind Tom Ryder, of course, but above Tyler Poser. Nothing against him personally, he just hasn't really done anything since Teen Wolf, you know? And—"

She was pretty sure black spots were dotting her vision, and when she attempted for a sixth time to smooth the bubbles out of her liner, Parker swore her head was going to implode.

How did one talk so much?

And more importantly—

"Jesus Christ!" she cried above the din of chatter. Melissa's voice cut off at the exclamation, but as she crossed one arm over the other—ruler clattering to the ground in frustration—the radio continued to play a steady stream of Taylor Swift and Katy Perry. "I'm so confused!"

A steady silence came from the adjacent aisle for half a moment.

"You... don't get the Hunger Games prequel? I thought you read it."

"Oh my fu—" she started, before cutting herself off. Melissa had gotten on her last week about having such foul language, and while Parker really didn't care about being a bad influence on the next generation, she did care about the stupid little jar sitting on the front counter that had collected half of her weekly coffee allowance in just three days. Pinching her nose, she swerved, "fudge, I don't get how you're doing this. I really don't."

"Doing—?"

"Not Suzzanne Collins," she snapped before Melissa could even go down that particular road. Honestly, the girl never stopped talking. "I understand that. I read those books before you were even born, kid."

"Okay, I'm not that young, and you're not old enough to be calling me kid," her voice floated above the shelves; judgmental and scornful all in one.

Parker pinched the bridge of her nose, only for some wayward tape to get stuck to her cheek, and as she ripped it off her skin with a groan, she considered sinking onto the cold floor for a nap.

Said floor was a mess of art supplies, however, and so she elected to tap her foot in an impatient staccato on the ground. Knowing there was only one thing left to do, Parker swallowed whatever pride still existed after this little art project. "...I don't understand how to put on the shelf liners," she admitted. "It doesn't make any sense, and I'm wasting material, and I'm—I'm going to set this place on fire if I have to keep doing this!"

A tut followed by Birkenstocks on hard wood before Melissa was popping around her side of the shelves. She looked too cute to be doing something misery-inducing like this—bubble braids over each shoulder, mascara and glittery white eyeshadow to balance out the glow of highlighter on her cheeks and nose, lips a soft bubblegum pink to compliment the pale color of her sweater—and Parker added it to the list of things that her employee did to annoy the shit out of her.

Teenagers were supposed to be pimply and awkward; when did the next generation start skipping that phase to jump right into cute outfits like that?

"What are you—?" she started, only to zero in on the absolute disaster that was Parker's attempts at interior design. The shelf liner was warbled and misshapen, cut too short on one side and too long on the other, and at her feet half a yard of wasted material lay sprawled. "Parker! Do you have any idea how expensive this stuff is?"

Parker blinked at her. "Do I—? Of course I do! I was the one that bought it in the first place!" she snarked incredulously.

"Then why are you wasting it?"

"Well—because—I'm not doing it on purpose!" she blustered.

Melissa clearly didn't seem to believe that if her raised brow was anything to go by. As if Parker had woken up that morning with the single goal in mind of making this process as difficult and expensive as possible.

Yeah, right.

Parker hadn't been stealing eggs and bread from her brother's when she visited just for the thrill of the grift.

"The instructions don't make any sense," she continued to defend herself; though, the fact that she needed to in the first place was ridiculous. It was her shop, afterall, and she was the owner. Oh, right. She was the owner. "I knew we shouldn't have done this. The paint and decorations look good enough. Why, oh why, did I let you talk me into doing shelf liners too? You know the books are just going to cover the pattern, right? No one will see them."

That seemed to upset Melissa, and in response, the teenager's entire face contorted into something righteous.

"Firstly," she said, flinging up a electric blue nail, "everyone will see them. The books are only so big, so the liner is still visible even when the shelf is full, and when people take books off the shelf it adds character to the store. And secondly," she continued, ticking another finger up into the air, "I've already finished three whole shelves in the time it's taken you to do half of one. Improperly, too. It's not impossible. You're just bad at it."

"Ugh!" Parker's mouth fell open. "Excuse me. I'm not bad at it."

"Could'a fooled me."

"You know," she snarked while planting her hands firmly onto her hips. Melissa didn't seem intimidated one bit, and she watched as the teenager gently pulled up her crumpled liner. "You're lucky I'm your boss because someone else might fire you for sass like that."

Melissa shot her a blithe look while dropping the ruined liner to the ground. Within seconds, she cut a new piece—perfectly sized—and calmly started lying it down. "Okay, sure, Park. Whatever you say."

"I could!"

"Uh-huh," the girl said again, clearly not buying into the power play for a second. Parker might have taken more offense to that if, well, Melissa wasn't right. She never had an employee before, but Parker didn't handle workplace confrontations well, and she couldn't imagine ever firing anyone. Let alone her best customer.

Still. She could at least pretend to be intimidated.

Before Parker could argue that point, Melissa stepped back from the shelf with a flourish to reveal a perfectly placed, smooth and colorful liner.

"Son of a..." Parker muttered at how easy she had made it look. Not to mention the fact that it did look really good. She could already picture how much character it would add once the shelves were re-stocked with their books. "How did you—?"

"It's honestly so easy. Like, I'm embarrassed for you."

And—yeah.

Parker was definitely dying.

"I liked you better when you only came in once a week," she announced, dropping the wasted paper into the trash bag. "You were a lot nicer then, at least. And you already gave me money instead of costing me heaps of it."

Unbothered, the teen popped her bubblegum with a shrug. "You were a lot cooler then, too."

"What—?" she cried, tracking around the shelf in Melissa's wake. The teenager seemed pretty pleased with herself, and as she giggled into her hand, Parker propped her shoulder against the wall with a glower. "Oh. Hardy-har-har. Hilarious. Let's all pick on Parker; that seems like a fun way to spend the day. How about this? You can finish this little project yourself since it was your idea in the first place."

That managed to wipe the smirk off of her face, and Melissa responded by stomping her foot. "This place is huge! There's no way I can finish this on my own."

"Please," Parker rolled her eyes, not buying that for a moment. "You've done six times as much as me in an hour, and better too. It's like you said—I suck at this."

"I didn't say you suck."

"Bad, suck, they're all the same insult. Are you regretting the sass now?"

Melissa scowled. "Fine. But I want to re-negotiate my salary."

That wiped whatever smug look Parker was wearing off her face in seconds, and as if this was a game of tug-o-war, the smugness transferred back to Melissa in the following seconds. So smug, in fact, that she started humming to herself as she set to work on the next line of shelves.

Shaking her head, Parker couldn't do anything but laugh. "Fat chance of that! You're already robbing me blind with the stupid swear jar. Besides, this whole thing was your idea; you wanted the job, and now you got the job. You don't get to re-negotiate your hourly pay when you've barely been here a month. That's not how employee contracts work."

"America as a late stage capitalistic society is failing and is not what you should be basing a business model on, but if that's how you want to play it, fine. This is a supply and demand market. There's nothing to say I can't negotiate my salary when my needs as an employee go up. Your demand has changed, ergo my supply for you has changed," she chirped, and not for the first time, Parker was wondering when teenagers became so socially aware. When she was Melissa's age, she babysat for five bucks an hour, and most of that was just spent making sure the kids didn't swallow their Gumby doll. Needs of an employee her ass. "Besides, we agreed on that salary when I thought I would have help doing the manual labor."

"You're awfully smart for someone that didn't read the fine print."

Melissa paused in her work to cross one arm over the other. And—fuck—how was she being intimidated by someone wearing a best friends forever necklace?

Saved by the tinkle of the front door bell, Parker broke off their stare down to give the girl a flippant gesture that would definitely not hold up in court as any sort of agreement, before moving towards the front. She didn't even care that they were closed, a customer was more than welcome at the moment. Even a neighborhood cat would do.

Melissa trailed after.

"All I'm saying is—" she started.

"Ah, ah, ah. No money talk in front of customers. It's totally kitsch," Parker chirped over her shoulder.

"It's Sunday. We shouldn't even have customers. Can't we just tell them to leave?"

"And they say good customer service is dead," said customer drawled from the front counter as he pilfered through her bowl of mints. Several clattered to the floor as he tried to dig out his favorite flavor, and with a wince, Parker watched him not-so-subtly nudged them under the counter with his shoe as if it hadn't happened at all. "Er, those were already down there when I got here."

"Ass," she rolled her eyes, bending over to scoop the mints up before mice decided to add themselves onto the list of things she had to deal with. She was already stuck between two pestering leeches, a third infestation was not ideal.

Before Melissa could complain, Parker stuck a dollar into the swear jar.

"Whatever. Tom, we were just—" Melissa pushed past Parker with an exuberance that had been lacking moments before. It deflated the moment she got a better look at him, however, and the girl's grin slipped into a sour frown. She crossed one arm over the other to peer suspiciously at the blonde. "Wait, you're not Tom."

Colt experienced a variety of emotions in a single second, and Parker couldn't help but laugh when he let out an offended squeak.

"What—how does she know Tom?" he hissed.

Parker dumped the fallen mints back into the bowl with a shrug. "He's stopped by before. She's a huge fan. Number one, apparently. She's seen all his stuff."

"Twice," Melissa added.

Parker pointed at her. "Twice," she reiterated, just knowing that it would piss Colt off.

Just as expected, he responded by rolling his eyes with a second, high-pitched groan. It sounded like he was in pain. "You're a fan of Ryder? Seriously?"

Melissa squared her shoulders at him. "Seriously."

"You do know that he wears a wig, right?"

She huffed. "No, he doesn't."

"Uh, yes he does."

"Does not."

"Does too."

"Does—"

"Okay, that's enough of that," Parker interjected with a groan of her own. What had started off as an amusing blow to her brother's ego was quickly turning into a headache. "Melissa, don't bully him. He has a sensitive ego."

Colt threw his arms up—bowl of mints scattering everywhere—to cry, "Parker! That's not—I don't—who even is this?"

"Who am I? I work here. Who are you?" she shot back, bright eyes narrowed into slits. Parker could imagine her in high-school now, scaring off boys left and right, and if her brother didn't have the mental maturity of a middle schooler, she might have let them argue a little bit longer.

Alas. Colt's weakness was women, and she didn't fancy giving him chest compressions when he inevitably choked on his pride.

"Melissa," she gestured, "this is my brother, Colt. He's a professional stuntman, and has been Tom Ryder's stuntdouble for years. That how I met him in the first place. Colt, this is my new employee, who also happens to be a teenage girl, Melissa."

In unison, the pair gave cagey hmphs.

"Nice to meet you or whatever," Colt sniffed.

"Yeah," she responded with a blithe look. "Totally."

Parker glanced between the pair; both had matching postures, arms crossed, arms averted, neither wanting to acknowledge the other, and she pinched the bridge of her nose with a heavy sigh. Although, to be fair, only one of the two was an actual adult. Despite how Melissa might carry herself from time to time.

Remembering this, she steered the conversation back to more important things. "If I step out for lunch with Colt, do you think you can finish the shelf liners? You can invite one or two friends to hang out. If they help, I suppose I can pay them too."

Pettiness forgotten, Melissa gave Parker a wide-eyed look. "Really?"

"Flat rate. Fifty for the day, a max of two friends. Just no posting on instagram or snapchat or—you know—anything else. I don't need social media being my downfall before I even get started."

"Oh my god, you're so old, Parker. Who would even want to cancel you?" Melissa laughed over her shoulder before disappearing towards the back. Her cell phone was already dialing, and by the time she started pasting on liners, her friends were already on their way.

With that taken care of, Parker blinked over at her brother.

"Yes."

Colt, having replaced whatever book he was pretending to read, furrowed his brows at her. "Yes, what?"

"Whatever you're going to suggest we do, yes, please take me away from here before I commit a craft-themed crime."

"Is that a crime?"

"A violent one."

He clicked his tongue, tossing another mint into his mouth with a curious side-eye across the counter. "Maybe I just wanted to stop in and see how things were looking. You were talking about it at the party so much I figured I'd have to see it eventually."

That was a lame excuse and they both knew it. Colt may have been her biggest cheerleader, but her brother didn't know the difference between paint and lacquer. Not to mention that he was red-green colorblind, and would certainly have a hard time noticing any change in paint around them.

"Coooolllltttttt," she whined.

He quirked his brow at her. "Seriously?"

"Please?" she asked, slumping across the counter. When that didn't work she attempted to flutter her eyelashes at him. That only provoked an eyeroll from him, and she deflated with a moan. "I'll ber lurnch," she muttered into her sweater sleeves.

He lifted a finger to his ear, patronizing and provoking all in a single sweeping gesture. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't get that. What did you say?"

Atop her arms, she glared before slowly reiterating, "I'll buy lunch."

That he understood.

The bastard.

"Well, why didn't you just say so?" he cooed, and when he attempted to pat her atop the head, Parker swatted him away with a glare. She was already reconsidering going anywhere with him, but a single glance towards what was awaiting her in the back of the shop had her sitting up straight. "I have to go to set today for some wardrobe fittings and thought you'd want to come with. Might as well see how the magic is made. We're gonna be late if you keep moping, though."

"We wouldn't have been late if you didn't get all mouthy with Melissa," she snarked while gathering her things. Feeling a bit guilty about leaving the kid to finish the work, she dug a twenty out of her wallet. "I'll be back later! There's money on the counter to get lunch for you girls!"

She got no response—as a mom rarely did with a teenager—and it took Colt tugging her by the elbow to get Parker to step outside. His truck was parked right in front of a fire hydrant.

She raised a brow at him, utterly unimpressed.

"What?" he asked when he caught the look she was shooting him. And, as if it wasn't a low-stakes crime that he was committing, Colt just grinned. "Relax, grumpy-pants. It's a Sunday. Fire hydrants don't count on Sundays. Now get in before we really are late."

There was a lot to say to that, but Parker didn't bother wasting the energy, and with an easy-going grin of her own, she clambered inside.

---

An hour later and Parker finds herself propped on an overflowing table filled with sewing needles, accessories, pens, papers, and a binder flush with polaroid photos of her brother from every angle. The film's wardrobe department, despite his warnings in the car, was more than thrilled that Colt had brought along his sister, and while he was poked and prodded, shifted left and right on a pedestal for everyone to critique, Parker had been set up with an iced coffee, some freshly made baklava, and front row seats to the most amusing thing she had seen in weeks.

"I think the crotch is too tight," Betty said, tugging on the material with long, sharp fingernails that Colt eyed like they were a sleeping snake. "See how it's bunching, we need to let it out, or maybe—see this? We could try—"

"No, no, no, it doesn't need to be let out," Sasha, a blonde woman with oversized cat-eye glasses tutted. "It's supposed to be tight. Remember?"

"It'll rip."

"It'll be fine."

"I suppose for standing, but I think he'll be wearing them for a running sequence—"

The ladies bickered back and forth, hands clawing too close for comfort at her brother's privates, and every so often he would wince when they tugged a little too hard. Parker, watching all of it, giggled every time it happened.

"How come I've never been brought along to fittings before?" she mused, a Cheshire-like grin in place. He had been standing up there for the lasty forty minutes, and every time she took a sip of her drink, Colt would look a little more green in envy at their difference in treatment. "This is fun."

"Fun," he said, mocking her with an eyeroll. "You come up here and try this."

"I happen to think I would look amazing in those pants. I have the ass for them, anyway," she chirped, and Sasha took a break from her bickering just to laugh at the idea. Beaming, Parker added, "I didn't realize that wardrobe fittings for the stunt double would be so... invasive."

"Yeah, well, usually the pants aren't so tight. That's all thanks to Ryder."

"I bet they look good on Tom," she said, half teasing, half meaning it. Anything looked good on Tom as time had proven again and again; from covered in sweat, puking in a toilet to wearing Gucci brand glasses, she had yet to see the guy look bad. Speaking of, "shouldn't he be here too?"

Colt, adjusting the tight collar of his leather jacket, shot her a look. "He's probably staring at himself in a mirror somewhere. That's how they trap raccoons, you know. They get so distracted by their own reflection that they forget to run off before the coon dogs get them."

"That's not a thing."

"Sure it is," he said, twisting on the pedestal as the ladies started to adjust the inseam of the pants. He eyed their gleaming needles nervously as they continued on their warpath across the fabric. "You should watch Animal Planet sometime. They did a whole episode on it."

"On how to catch raccoons?" Parker reiterated, absolutely not believing her brother for a second.

"It was a special."

"Maybe a Looney Tunes' special," she deadpanned with an eyeroll. Colt's mouth propped open in argument, only to freeze up when two pairs of hands started plucking the fabric across his butt, and she watched his face flush red. "Seriously? You're such a child!"

Being called out, Colt scowled at his sister. "Am not."

"Are too."

"Am—you know what?" he caught himself before he could go on his second preschool tirade of the day. Parker sipped her drink with an impish gleam in her eyes. "Whatever. You're supposed to be amusing me, not stirring up shit. Tell me something interesting."

"Sure, Caesar," she rolled her eyes. "What would your highness like to be amused by?

"I don't know! Anything. Like—what were you and Melissa doing today at the shop that had you running scared?"

She blew a raspberry, spinning slightly on the table to snatch up an oversized top hat. She didn't have a clue what sort of movie it would be acceptable for—definitely not a sci-fi one—but she traced the stitching with a bored eye anyways. "Shelf liners. They're way harder than they look, and she can get mean when she wants to be. I swear she acts like she's the boss sometimes."

"Ooooh," he teased. "Scared of a teenager?"

"You should see her first thing in the morning. She must wake up at five am to do her beauty routine, and anyone with that sort of willpower should be feared. I think I'll have to move when she finally saves up for her car. God knows the roadways won't be safe."

"Just because you can't wake up before noon without a liter of coffee doesn't mean everyone else can't. Some people are naturally early risers."

"Says the guy that slept for nineteen hours straight once."

Colt shot her a cross look. "I had a concussion."

"All the morning reason not to sleep that long. Isn't rule number one of head injuries that you're supposed to wake up every so often for a health check?" she asked.

Her brother popped his mouth open to argue, finger poised, before he slowly let it drift down to his side. His silence spoke volumes, however, and she raised her brows at him with a smug smile.

"Oh, like you're so perfect," he huffed irritably.

To which she beamed, plopping the top hat onto her head with a flourish. "Maybe I am. Ever thought about that? I'm pretty, popular with famous people, and am the reigning champion at beerball five years running."

"You cheat at beerball," he snarked before the rest of what she said caught up to him. With a gesture, Colt flexed on the pedestal, adding, "and you're not the only hot Seavers. Look at me? See how these pants are hugging my curves? You wish."

Parker laughed at that, couldn't help it if she tried. Her brother was so ridiculous that at times the way he spewed word vomit surprised even her. Not to mention the fact that he was her brother, best friend on too many planes to count; it was hard not to be in a good mood when hanging with him. Even if she was watching him get pampered like a princess before an upcoming ball.

Speaking of, "so, you don't think Tom will be around?"

Something bewildered cracked across his features at the same time that Sasha and Betty told him to step down from the pedestal. The ladies took their notes to the table, adjusting this and that, while Colt stepped behind a privacy screen. She could hear him grunting as he tried to maneuver out of the pinned clothes without sticking himself.

"Do we need to talk about this?" his voice echoed.

"About what?"

"You. Tom. Whatever weird relationship the two of you have going on," he continued, before yelping when he did stick himself on a pin. Sasha rushed behind the screen to help him get out of the pants, and when she returned, she had the garments in hand. "It's sickening to even think about."

"How is us being friends sickening?" Parker echoed.

"Because—you—he—the guy is an ass!"

"He's not an ass," she argued back, surprising herself at how quickly she came to his defense and how little she actually cared. There were few things her and Colt disagreed on; siblings that knew each other as well as they did often had minor squabbles, but nothing ever world-changing or big. Yet, it didn't feel right to let him say those sorts of things. She could consider why later. "He's just... misunderstood."

"Misunderstood?" his voice pitched behind the screen, before he was stepping out in a totally new suit. It was black and yellow, leather, emboldened with the NASA logo, and for a moment she forgot entirely what they were talking about to ogle it appreciatively.

"Ooh, nice job ladies, I like that one."

Colt paused, glancing down at himself. "It is nice," he said in surprise, twisting and turning in the mirror. As he smoothed the material down, he added, "comfortable too. Is this worn much in the film?"

Betty checked her notes. "Looks like he wears it in a few scenes. Oh, looks like you should be wearing it for a harness drop, so make sure you tell us if it's too tight anywhere," she said as the women headed back over to him with their tape measures and pins. "Good?"

He stretched up and down, left and right, before gesturing to the armpit seams. "Probably could be loosened a bit."

She nodded, and the ladies got to work on that, as Colt returned his attention to his sister. Clearing his throat, he continued their earlier disagreement. "I can't believe you of all people think he's misunderstood."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Uh, hello? Remember the whole coffee thing?"

"I think I understood him perfectly well then," she argued, top hat shifting on her head as she gestured. It was surprisingly heavy, and Parker fixed its lean half-heartedly. "He was an asshole during that encounter, and several encounters since then."

"Then what's with the whole PR parade?"

"I just think he's, I don't know... not always like that."

Colt stared at her; blinking, wide-eyed, with wheels spinning slowly between his ears. She swore she could smell the smoke from there, and Parker prepared herself for whatever ridiculous conclusion he was going to come once the spinning stopped.

"You didn't drink any kool-aid recently did you?"

And, yup. She saw that one coming from a mile away.

"Jesus Christ, Colt," she rolled her eyes, huffing. "When are you going to stop with that Jonestown shit?"

"It was a big deal! More people should be talking about it."

"Yeah, like, three decades ago. No one is trying to copy it with kool-aid. That would be a little bit of an obvious tactic, don't you think? I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I'm not in a cult!"

He held his hands up to placate her, before dropping them back down at Sasha's disgruntled tsk-ing. Parker supposed the ladies would be amused by their conversation if they weren't so intently focused on their work. That or they would be seriously concerned for the siblings' mental welfare.

"I'm just checking. Cult leaders are hard to spot you know. That's their whole gimmick. They look normal, just like you and me, and then next thing you know—wham! Indoctrination. Cult. Weird clothes and bad bathing habits and no teeth. It's a slide, not stepping stones, Park. Tom Cruise fell for it in the eighties and hasn't gotten out since"

"Yeah, well, I don't have any sort of money to give a potential cult leader so I don't really think I'm a good target in the first place. Plus, Tom Cruise seems to be doing just fine with the whole Scientology thing," she replied drolly. He didn't have an argument to that, and she shook the melting ice in her cup half-heartedly. "All I'm saying is he's under a lot of pressure from a lot of people. Isn't it possible that he overreacts sometimes?"

He didn't look pleased with her line of questioning one bit, shaking his head at her like a disappointed parent. "I don't think you should be friends."

"What?"

"I don't like it. I don't like it at all."

"Now who's drinking the kool-aid?"

"I'm just saying! It's weird," he continued, gesturing to her a second time only for Betty to snatch his arm and tug it back down with a glare. Colt didn't seem to notice, however, as he barreled on in the way that idiots often did. "First, it's the bookstore. Normal, no biggie. Then, it's the little giggling and laughter. Odd, but whatever. But then, all of the sudden, he has an invite to my exclusive birthday party—"

She threw her head back with a groan, top hat tumbling to the table. "I already apologized for that!"

"—and next thing you know, our Friday night is being highjacked by some ritzy party in upper LA where I have to wear my nice shoes and act like an adult. I'm telling you—rockslides only take a pebble."

"Are you saying you didn't have fun?" she asked with a pointed look, to which her brother hedged and hawed instead of answering. Like a guilty dog that knew it was in trouble, he avoided eye contact. Replacing the top hat onto her head, she waved her hands around. "See? So what's the problem? You got along then, too, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then isn't it possible you misjudged him too?"

"I've known him a lot longer than you."

"But you've never actually spent time with him outside of work."

"For good reason."

"Really? Because you always seem to get along when I'm around," she continued, not ready to let the point go if only because she needed it to stick. "So, how good can the reason be? Maybe he's grown up since you first met him, and you just don't want to accept that."

It was a solid argument, they both knew that.

But Colt was as stubborn as she was. He sniffed. "Well, I still don't like it. Is something going on between you two?"

"Like what?" she asked, despite knowing exactly what was going on between the two of them.

They had kissed. Once. Twice. Three times. Then a few more times until she couldn't really remember what was happening. All she knew was one moment they were kissing and the next moment she was riding home with Colt and Jody, bewildered, breathless, and giddy.

"I have no clue what you're on about," she said despite knowing exactly what he was on about, deciding that gaslighting her brother might be the best option at the moment. "We're just friends."

"Well, obviously," he scoffed, as if anything else was beyond the scope of his imagination.

Which—fair.

She couldn't exactly begrudge him for thinking that there was no chance in hell Parker could kiss someone like Tom Ryder. She could barely believe it, and she was the one that had done it. Still, she scowled at him, contemplating it she wanted to drop the subject entirely or tell him in explicit detail all the reasons he was an idiot, but before she could, the fitting room door opened, and in he walked.

He looked good.

He always looked good.

But today he looked especially good with his dewy skin and jean jacket. Or, maybe, Parker was just looking at him in a new light, and when his gaze landed on her, she couldn't help but grin at him.

"Hey, Tom," she said with a little too much enthusiasm. If he thought it was odd, however, he didn't comment on it. Just ran his gaze over her.

"Nice hat. I'm glad you're finally taking my advice and trying to improve your style, but this isn't exactly what I had in mind."

"The—? Oh!" Parker snatched the top hat off her head with a blush, and in face of her karma, Colt snorted with pleased laughter. Ass. She shot him a side-eye before chirping, "it's Colt's, actually. I told him it looked ridiculous, but the prom is coming up, and Jody is just so exited. You should see his cummerbund. Straight out of the eighteen hundreds."

That effectively wiped the smirk off his face, and Colt started to argue just as Betty ushered him towards the privacy screen for another fitting.

Pleased, she blinked back at Tom.

"What are you doing here?"

"Colt dragged me along for his fittings. Something about being scared of the fashion department team," she joked in a half-whisper, gesturing to where he was hidden behind the privacy screen knowing that he wouldn't be able to hear her. "What are you doing here?"

"I just finished my fittings."

She perked. "Oh, you're done, then?"

He nodded just as Colt re-appeared from behind the screen. The flight suit had been replaced with a suave looking tuxedo that seemed to fit wrong in every place it could, and without knowing fashion at all, Parker had a feeling it would be a while before they finished pinning this particular look. Feeling both rebellious and like a high-schooler with a crush, she cast her brother a look. He immediately caught it, and returned one of his own.

Don't you dare, he said.

She lifted a brow testily. Oh, I dare, the look said.

And just like that, Parker faced Tom and asked, "you want to get lunch?"

"With you two?"

"I don't think Colt will be finished for awhile," she said, mock sincerity in her voice. Her brother heard it, face blustered and annoyed, as she batted her lashes across the room at him. "We could always bring him back something."

"But—!" Colt cried, gesturing at them so hard that he almost whacked Sasha in the head. He didn't even notice in his rush to argue, and it took both seamstresses to position him on the pedestal where they wanted him. "We were gonna get lunch!"

"Well, you're not done, and I'm starving."

"I—I could be done. Right?" he asked, turning his own version of puppy dog eyes towards Sasha and Betty. Unlike Jody and their mom, however, it seemed that they were immune to his charms, and together, they tutted at him. "...but—but!"

"This one needs a lot of work on it," Sasha said, as Betty patted him on the back. "And there's still four more looks to get through before we move you to hair and makeup for mock-ups."

"But—!"

"Don't worry Colt," she cooed at him with a victorious grin, and she would have felt bad for abandoning him if he hadn't been so adamant about his opinion on who she could be friends with. Plus, he accused her of being in a cult four times a year; this was his penance. "We'll bring you back something."

"Do I even want to know what that was about?" Tom asked her once they were in the safety of the hallway.

Parker gave an impish look. "Just Colt being Colt. He gets mopey when he's hungry. Is Mexican okay? I really am starving."

His amusement turned scathing. "Mexican? That's all carbs. No fucking way, I just had my fitting done this morning, and I'm not going to have my pants let out."

She rolled her eyes. "Carbs are good for you," she tutted.

"Not that many."

"Rock, paper, scissors?"

Tom blinked at her—as if he couldn't believe she would suggest such a childish solution—and started off down the hallway without another word.

"Well—we can do two out of three!" she cried in his wake, and it wasn't until he disappeared around the corner did she realize that he might actually leave her to deal with Colt alone. Yelping, she rushed after him. "Okay, okay! Fine! Sushi?"

---

"I can't believe you actually eat this stuff," Parker whined twenty minutes later, a salad with more vegetables than she could name, quinoa, and some sort of vinaigrette dousing the top set out in front of her. The lettuce is limp when she lifts it with a fork, and she can't even pretend to find it appetizing as Tom munches through his. "Like, seriously? I'm not about to be Punk'D?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "You have to be famous to be Punk'D."

"I'm with you, aren't I?" she sassed, prodding the food like a toddler not allowed to leave the table before finishing their peas. She wrinkled her nose at the idea. "I get that salad is healthy or whatever, but don't you ever eat anything that tastes good?"

"This does taste good."

She shot him a look of disbelief to which he shrugged.

"I mean, kind of good," he corrected after a moment.

"It's disgusting. Why is it both limp and hard? You know an entire ethnic community eats all the carbs associated with Mexican food and they're thriving. Have you ever seen a Cinco de Mayo party? Unreal how much fun they're having."

"That's because they're drunk on tequila."

"Well, sure," she hedged, head tipping left and right as she tried to ignore the weird smell coming from the bowl in front of her. "But you gotta live a little, right?"

"I don't want to live a little," he corrected her, spitting out the word like it was distasteful. But he had that same sort of tone that he used when he was repeating something he heard a thousand times, but didn't necessarily believe. "I want to live to be a hundred, and I want to look good while doing that."

"Colt eats Mexican food," she argued.

"Colt isn't the face of a multi-million dollar movie franchise."

"No, just the body."

"Maybe you should have just gone out to lunch with Colt, then," he said, both look and tone cross.

And suddenly Parker felt like she had ceremoniously swallowed her foot in front of him. It hadn't occurred to her that he might have a touchy relationship with food, and guilt settled on her shoulders like a weight. She felt pretty stupid for not seeing that—just like she had told Colt, the amount of pressure he was under at all times was not something either sibling would be able to comprehend—and five minutes into lunch she had already made an ass of herself.

"Sorry," she said, stuffing limp lettuce into her mouth as if to prove that she agreed with him. It tasted gross, though, and Tom definitely didn't miss the way she had to choke it down. "Mhmm, it's so... salad-y."

Whether it was her tone or the look she made while saying it, something about the act worked, and when he shook his head she caught the edges of a smile peeking across his face.

Feeling better, Parker aimed for more neutral territory.

"So, your party was fun," she said, before immediately realizing that was clearly not a neutral territory if the way he paused in his chewing was anything to go by. The last thing she wanted was to come across as some sort of lovesick teenager, and she nearly choked on her tongue to add, "I just mean—Colt and Jody really liked it. She got to network a lot. Plus, Colt has been dying to see your house for, like, ever."

"He has?"

"Sure," she shrugged. "You guys have worked together for almost a decade. I think he's always wondered what your life outside of work looked like."

Tom digested that information as slowly as he digested his food, and she managed another bite of soggy, lemon-flavored lettuce before he decided on a reaction. "I didn't realize that he really cared."

"What do you mean?"

Tom shrugged; one of the rare moments he actually looked awkward while talking about something, and Parker set aside her fork to wash the bad flavor down with some bitter tasting kombucha.

Bad. It was all bad. The health food industry had to be some sort of joke.

"I don't know; just never really thought about hanging out with Colt outside of the set. I told you the stunt guys don't like me."

"What?" she deadpanned. "You? That is such shocking news. I'm shocked."

Tom huffed, then laughed, before shaking his head at her. "Don't be an ass."

"Me? Never."

"Never," he echoed, clearly mocking her. She didn't mind though. It wasn't vindictive or mean, and if it made him feel better, her ego could handle a little mocking banter. Especially when his shoulders relaxed as if a weight was being taken off them. "Whatever. Glad they, uh, had fun."

"Well, you know—open bar, secrets about the Hollywood elite. What wasn't there to like about the party?"

He nodded, another bite taken, as Parker miserably tried to force herself to eat her own food. When he had suggested a vegan salad spot, she hadn't been thrilled, but never in her wildest dreams did she imagine it would be this bad.

"Did, uh," he cleared his throat, "you enjoy the party?"

"Hm?" she hummed, not properly hearing the question as she tried to figure out if the brown thing in her bowl was a raisin or a date. Then she did, and Parker blinked up to find Tom watching her carefully. "Oh. Yeah. Yes. I had, you know, lots of fun. With Colt, Jody, er... you."

He glanced away, nodding, before peeking back at her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it was... it was nice. I mean—not just the, er—you know. Not just when you—when I—when we..." she overemphasized, face hot and red as she struggled to put her thoughts into words. She absolutely didn't want to sound like their kiss was the only thing she had thought about all weekend, but she also didn't want to act indifferent because dating had somehow drifted into a game of tag nowadays.

Not that they were dating.

Oh god.

It was one kiss. Obviously they weren't dating, and he probably hadn't even thought about it a second time, and that's probably not what he was asking about in the first place, and—she was obsessing, wasn't she?

Oh, god.

"...um," Parker choked, swallowing some more kombucha before remembering she actually hated the taste of it. Wiping her mouth, she slumped onto the table with an embarrassed sigh. "Can you just put me out of my misery, please?"

Tom lifted a brow. "You might do that yourself. Are you having a stroke?"

"Maybe."

He passed over his cup of water, and Parker took a couple small sips until her cheeks didn't feel so hot. He was still watching her, still eating his food, but it was clear from the sparkle in his eye and the smug curve of his mouth that he was greatly enjoying the show. "Just wanted to make sure you had fun," he said.

"I would have had fun if we just played twenty questions," she said, catching the way he hesitated in his eating, before continuing. The cocky gleam was gone from his eye, and something kind remained when he glanced at her. "Not to complain about the... other stuff, but I meant everything I told you. I don't hang out with you for an open bar."

Tom's gaze swept the planes of her face before he nodded. It was a confident nod, for once, and he spoke he almost sounded... happy.

"Well, that's a relief at least. With how much you drink, I'm a little worried between you and Gail I'm going to go bankrupt this year. I swear every party costs more and more."

"Can't you set a budget?"

"It's Hollywood," he deadpanned, and she supposed that was an obvious enough answer that the deadpanning was necessary. "You think anything is ever under-budget?"

Parker wouldn't really know; the only thing she stuck to a budget for was Bath & Body Works lotions and Uber Eats. Just like he had said though, if she didn't, she was confident that she would be bankrupt within days.

Shrugging, she quipped, "next time you can just invite Jody and I. By keeping Colt away, you'll probably spare yourself a few thousand on alcohol alone. Though, he did behave himself last time since he was the designated driver, but I swear he's put a few bars out of business from Happy Hour deals alone."

Tom, another heaping of lettuce down, jabbed a fork at her. "Think I'd be better keeping you away considering how many napkins you took."

"Oh, shut up. They're, like, fifty cents each!"

"You had at least a hundred in you purse when you left."

"Well—" she threw her arms up, blustering, "it's not like I took all of them. Plus, when I sell them on eBay I'll give you a commission. Unlike when you got this fancy sci-fi role. I'm still waiting on my agent's fee for that one."

He shook his head at her. "Yeah, just hold your breath on that one."

With all the maturity she could muster, Parker stuck her tongue out at Tom, and with all the maturity he could muster, he chucked a carrot at her. It bounced onto the patio ground, and she noticed with a look of betrayal that not even the local squirrel population would touch it.

"Tom," she leaned forward, "I am begging you. I need carbs."

"You don't—"

"I'm going to die. Dramatically. And not quietly. Everyone will know, and they're going to think you killed me, and the tabloids will never let that go. Forgot living to a hundred, you'll be seventy and in a retirement home. Please."

Her pleading did nothing.

So, taking drastic measures, Parker used all of her own acting experience to flutter her eyelashes at him, eyes wide and dog-like. And whether it was the pathetic way she threw herself onto the table, or maybe it was the smell of the hotdog cart from down the street, but after a long moment of begging, Tom's shoulder sank with a sigh.

"Jesus Christ, fine."

"Oh, thank god," she slumped, a disgruntled look towards her salad and kombucha before the idea of real food had her perking right back up. She had tossed their stuff in the trash before Tom could manage one more bite of his salad, and though he tried to look disgruntled by that fact, when she tugged him to his feet with a giggle, he was fighting off a smile. "Have you ever had the monster burrito from Lolita's? It has cream cheese and pickles."

"That sounds disgusting."

"I know!" she bounced in excitement, pulling him along after her, gabbing all the way.

Tom let her drag him down the street without any complaint, let her order him her favorite burrito, chips, and Mexican lemonade without arguing—though he did try to see the calorie count on the menu before she snatched it away from him—and because they were on an empty set on a Sunday no one paid them much mind.

A good thing, too, because if someone had, they might have noticed the goofy grin she was wearing, or the amused smile he was; and if they looked closer, they might have even noticed that even after they got to where they were going, Tom Ryder was still holding her hand as they waited in line, letting her lean against his chest as they waited on their orders, before sitting awfully close to her on a little stone bench outside.

But, no one noticed.

Not until her shrill ringtone broke through their game of twenty questions about an hour later as her brother complained about how hungry he was. And though he suspected something weird was going on, not even Colt noticed the sly smiles they shared with one another when they delivered his food as promised or the spot of wet lipgloss smeared on Tom Ryder's mouth.

[tomikashii]

tokyo debunker : oneshot

📖 titanic au: haru sagara x reader (2.93k words)

titanic au, first class! reader, third class! haru, social class differences, arranged marriage, implied mental abuse (not from haru), cheating, not in the tkdb universe, no stigmas, slight out of character, angst, tragedy, drowning & major character death

this is my first time writing angst and a oneshot in a while, enjooooooooooy 💌‼️

The first time you saw Haru, he was standing at the railing of the Titanic, his fiery red hair catching the sunlight like an ember refusing to burn out. His dark eyes, wide open and filled with curiosity, stared out at the horizon, as though he could see beyond the ends of the earth.

You had wandered from the suffocating opulence of the first-class dining room, desperate for air, and there he was—a splash of color and life against the cold steel of the ship. He turned, catching your gaze, and a slow, lopsided smile tugged at his lips.

“You look like you’re about to jump,” he said, his voice warm and soft.

You blinked, startled. “Excuse me?”

“You’re gripping that railing like it’s your lifeline,” he teased. “If you’re planning an escape, I wouldn’t blame you. This ship feels more like a cage than a luxury liner.”

You didn’t know how to respond. Nobody spoke to you like that— not your overbearing fiancé, nor your parents, who treated you like a doll to be polished and displayed. But this boy, with his eyes and untamed grin, saw through you like no one else ever had.

“You’re wrong,” you said, but your voice faltered.

“Am I?” He tilted his head, studying you with a quiet intensity. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, as if tasting the sound. “I’m Haru. Haru Sagara.”

He didn’t offer a handshake, but something in the way he looked at you made you feel like you’d just crossed an invisible line.

—

Haru and you became inseparable in the days that followed. He took you to places on the ship you never knew existed—the bustling third-class deck where laughter and music flowed freely, the quiet engine room where the hum of the machinery felt like the heartbeat of the Titanic.

“You don’t belong up there,” he said one night, as you both sat on the deck beneath a blanket of stars. “With them.”

“And where do I belong?” you asked, your voice bitter.

“With me,” he said simply.

You laughed, though your chest ached. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, leaning closer. “But wouldn’t it be nice to stop pretending?”

His words were a knife through your armor. You turned to him, searching his face for any sign of jest, but his eyes were steady and sincere.

“I don’t know how,” You whispered.

“Then let me show you,” he said, his voice barely audible.

It was the first time he kissed you, his lips soft and trembling, as if he feared you might pull away.

You didn’t.

—

The night the iceberg struck, the world shattered. The ship groaned and cracked as the freezing water rushed in, chaos erupting around. Your fiancé grabbed your arm, shouting for you to get on a lifeboat, but you wrenched free.

“Haru!” You screamed, pushing through the panicked crowd.

When you found him, he was helping a little boy into a lifeboat, his face pale but determined.

His eyes locked onto yours as you ran to him, and for a moment, it felt like the chaos around you both have disappeared.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice breaking. “You need to get on a boat.”

“Not without you!” you cried, grabbing his hand.

He hesitated, his gaze flickering between you and the lifeboats. Then, with a nod, he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as if to shield you from the cold.

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispered. “Together.”

—

Amidst the silence of the sea, the screams around you were deafening.

The ship had tilted sharply by now, its deck slanted at a steep angle. Each step was a battle against gravity, every movement heavy and slow. But you pushed forward, knowing Haru's hand was tightly clutching yours, his eyes scanning the deck for any sign of hope, any chance of survival.

But there was none.

The lifeboats had already gone, drifting into the cold, black ocean, leaving only the desperate behind. A flare shot into the sky, bright and fleeting, lighting up the faces of those around you for just a moment before it disappeared, swallowed by the darkness.

You could hear the officers yelling, demanding the boats return, but there was nothing—no one to help, no way to escape. The shrieks of passengers filled the air, their bodies slipping across the slanted deck, crashing against obstacles with sickening thuds. The priest clutched the railing, leading prayers as others jumped, hoping their life jackets would save them from the icy waters below.

Haru's face was set with determination as he looked at you. "We need to get to the stern," he said urgently, his voice steady despite the chaos around him. "It’s our only chance."

You nodded, your heart hammering, and together you began to climb, pushing against the tilt of the deck. Water poured in from all sides, sweeping over the railings, dragging everything in its path. You fought against it, your muscles screaming as you gripped anything you could—doors, railings, anything to keep from being dragged back into the freezing water.

"I’m falling—!"

"I got you." Haru’s voice was a lifeline, pulling you up when your strength faltered, guiding you with steady hands.

The ship groaned beneath you, the metal creaking and screaming in protest as it began to split apart, its sound like the roar of a dying beast. It was terrifying, the worst sound you’d ever heard, but you kept moving, kept climbing, until you reached the stern, the ship’s rear rising high above the water.

“Quick. Climb over!” Haru urged, helping you over the railing. “Hold on tight. No matter what, don’t let go.”

You did as he said, fingers frozen against the cold metal. Your thoughts were a blur, your body numb from the cold as the stern tilted nearly vertical, towering above the sinking ship. Haru’s voice kept you grounded. He climbed beside you, his face close, his breath visible in the air.

“This is where we first met,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Right here... on the stern.”

Haru gave you a small, sad smile. “And it’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said softly. His lips met yours briefly, a fleeting warmth in the cold night. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Y/N. I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

“I love you,” you whispered, the words barely escaping your frozen lips, a lump thick in your throat. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “And I promise… after this night, you’ll be in a warm bed. In my arms. Safe. I won’t let go.”

“Har—”

The ship groaned again, louder this time, the stern lifting even higher. “Hold on tight!” Haru shouted over the deafening roar, pulling you close as the ship tilted further, the ocean threatening to swallow it whole.

You clung to the railing, your body pressed tightly against his, the cold winds biting through your clothes. The stars above, distant and indifferent, looked down as the universe silently watched the destruction unfold below. The ocean, dark and unforgiving, churned, waiting to take everything.

“I’ll never let go,” you whispered, your breath catching in your chest. “No matter what.”

“Together,” Haru promised, his voice steady even as the ship’s descent continued.

The ship groaned, and with a sudden, terrifying force, it plunged into the abyss, pulling you down with it. The cold hit you immediately, a shock to your body as you fought to swim, to reach the surface.

When your head broke through the water, you gasped for air, but all around you was chaos—people struggling, screaming, disappearing beneath the waves. You searched desperately for Haru, your heart racing.

And then you saw him, bobbing in the water, his eyes searching for yours. “Haru!” you cried, swimming towards him.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” he asked, his voice frantic as he kissed your face, over and over, desperate to keep you close.

But the cold was overwhelming. Your limbs felt heavy, your body succumbing to the freezing water. “I can’t... I can’t anymore.”

“No, Y/N! You can do it!” Haru shouted, reaching for your hand. “There! A piece of debris!”

He pulled you toward a floating piece of a door, guiding you through the freezing water. “Climb up!”

But your hands were numb, your vision blurry. As you tried to pull yourself up, the world around you grew dim, and everything became too heavy to fight against. You couldn’t feel the cold anymore—it was just the crushing weight of despair.

—

With every ounce of strength left in your frozen limbs, you managed to pull yourself onto the door, though your body trembled violently from the cold. Reaching out, you grabbed Haru's hand, trying to help him up, but the door tilted precariously, threatening to vanish beneath the water. That was when he made his choice.

“It’s fine,” Haru said softly, his voice fragile yet resolute. “Stay there. Don’t move.”

Instead, he stayed in the icy water beside you, his body acting as a shield, ensuring no one would try to take your place. His lips turned an unnatural shade of blue, and his face lost all color, becoming almost unrecognizable from the boy you knew.

“Haru,” you whispered, your chattering teeth betraying the rising panic in your voice.

“Don’t let go.”

“I won’t,” he replied, though the tremor in his voice gave him away. “I promise.”

But the sea didn’t care for promises. His hands, once so steady and warm, were now ice against yours as they clung to your shaking fingers.

“You’re going to live,” he murmured, barely loud enough to hear. “You have to. You need to.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but the cold stole them away before they could fall. Still, you refused to loosen your grip on him, clutching his hand as though it could keep him tethered to you, to life. “Since the day we met… all you’ve ever done… is save me.”

“And I’d do it again,” he stammered through shivering breaths, his words faltering as his strength faded. “A thousand times, I’d save you. You’re meant to keep going, Y/N. You’re not supposed to stay here.”

Your lips, cracked and numb, pressed softly against the back of his frozen hand. “I love you.”

His eyes, heavy with exhaustion, found yours. “I love you too.”

—

The watch on your left wrist said it was already past 2:00 a.m., yet time passed by in an excruciating crawl. It felt cruel, how the seconds dragged on now, each one mocking the brief moments that had truly mattered in your life. A life that, you realized, had stretched for years but had only really existed for three fleeting days.

“Haru?” you whispered after a long silence, turning to him and shaking his hand lightly. “Where do we go after this?”

But his eyes were closed now, his face unnaturally still, his body half-submerged in the freezing water. His skin had turned a pallid blue, his lips white and cracked. No… You shook him harder, panic rising in your chest as his face was as solid as a block of ice. “Haru!” you called out, your voice trembling at the suggestion of his current state. “Wake up! Please… wake up!”

Silence. Nothing but heartbreaking silence. The lack of response made you sob, but you still managed to pull his hand closer to your chest, feeling your heart being torn asunder as you looked at him.

“No, no, no… please, no…” You clutched him desperately, feeling the weight of his cold, unmoving body against the wood. “Haru, please. Please. Open your eyes. P-Please… You said you’d n-never let go.”

It struck you then, the devastating truth: you'd spent your entire life in the shell of existence, going through the motions of days, months, and years. But it was only when Haru had entered your world that you began to truly live. In those three days, you had felt everything—joy, love, terror, heartbreak. A lifetime compressed into a fragment of time. And now that fragment was slipping away, sinking beneath the icy waves.

Along with your quiet tears, the ocean around you had become lull as if a deathly silence fell over the waters. The shrieks and cries were no more, replaced by the soft lapping of the waves and the distant creaking of the lifeboats.

If not for the faint voice carried over the water, you would have passed out. But someone was calling out, a beam of light flashing your way, forcing you to stay awake. You turned your head, blinking away tears, and saw a lifeboat finally coming back. After what seemed like eons, the crew shone their lights around, searching for survivors, hoping to save anyone at all.

“Over here!” you screamed, waving your hand frantically as your voice wasn’t loud enough for anyone to hear. “Please, help us!”

The beam of light turned toward you, and you heard the oars slicing through the water as the lifeboat approached. Relief may have flooded through you, but then you looked back at Haru, his face still and peaceful, like he was sleeping.

“Miss, let him go,” one of the men in the lifeboat carefully said, reaching out to you. “He’s gone… you have to let go.”

“No!” you protested, holding onto Haru’s hand tighter, eyes filling up with tears again. “I can’t. I can’t let him go.”

“Please, miss,” the man urged, his voice softening into a pained tone. “You have to let go… or you’ll go down with him.”

Your chest tightened with agony, every fiber of your being screaming to hold on. To never let go. You promised him. You made a vow to him that you would figure everything out together. But as you looked at Haru's face, so serene in death, you knew he was already gone. He had left long before you could say goodbye.

Tears streamed down your face as you leaned down, pressing a final kiss to his cold, unresponsive lips. “I love you,” you whispered, voice breaking into a sob. “I’ll never forget about you.”

You had spent years waiting for something—anything—to give your life meaning. And Haru had been the answer. Three days of love, laughter, and connection, and now it was over. You were left with decades ahead of you, but you knew you would spend every moment of them feeling hollow, like the best part of you had already lived and died in those few, precious days.

With trembling hands, you released your grip on his hand, watching as his body slowly slipped beneath the icy water, sinking into the heart of the ocean. Your heart shattered as you watched him disappear, Haru, the love of your life slipping away forever.

The men wrapped a blanket around you, their voices barely registered in your mind as they asked if you were okay.

But you weren’t. You would never be the same again. You stared out into the endless, dark sea, where Haru had disappeared, knowing a piece of you had gone with him, lost forever in the cold, unforgiving waters of the Atlantic.

How could you return to a life that had stretched for years but had only ever felt real for three days?

[heyhilana]

Say Yes (Javier Peña and Horacio Carrillo)

Summary: Carrillo and Peña work closely with you during the takedown of Escobar. With tension rising between you three and you inviting them in to your apartment, a drink turns into everything you fantasized about and more.

A/N: Ha, remember when I posted this accidentally? Welp, that's what happens when you don't check your queue for a few months LMAO. But at last, it's here after many months of writing this on and off since this was a new challenge for me as I've never written a threesome before. I'm 90% sure this is right because I'm running off of low sleep and I will come back to edit this if I need to but I hope you enjoy! As always, drink water and stay beautiful 💚

Pairing: Javier Peña and Horacio Carrillo x !f reader (I believe that's how you do it pls correct me if I'm wrong)

Warnings: (A list whew and I was even thinking about dp but another time) Light spanking, hair pulling, cunt spanking, f and m receiving oral, p in v penetration (don't be silly wrap it up like candy) cumshot on stomach, cumshot on tongue. I think that's it but I will add more if I need to :)

Tagged: @squidlywiddly87 (uh now you can read this LMAO but I hope you enjoy!)

Word count: 7.7k (I promise this was supposed to be shorter)

“Care to come up for a drink?” An innocent question led to a night that was unforgettable if it could be put into words. It sparked something that the three of you were oblivious to. There was tension between the three of you, a sexual tension to be exact, but it was unspoken due to work. Murphy would make note of it, seeing how Carrillo and Peña would look at you when it was ridiculously hot out, you having to strip off a layer or two to keep yourself cool. Your shirt would cling to your body due to the sweat, outline your breasts more than the shirt would do when you weren’t sweating.

He would also make note of how you would take notice of how their shirts would cling to their muscles, seeing how sculpted their bodies were. Carrillo’s arms were…intimidating for some people. But for you, they were what led to a pool of arousal to form in your underwear. Those pants that Javi would wear, that would shape the lower half of his body, mainly his butt, well, you always wondered what it looked like without his clothes on. The three of you thought that you were discreet about the lust that you had for each other, but Steve always took note of it, just to see the annoyed expressions on either one of your faces.

Was he wrong? Not exactly. It was obvious that there was something between the three of you, a carnal desire that was mistaken for something so little, almost nothing in your lives. Sure, there was flirting exchanged from the three of you. One-liners coming from both Carrillo and Peña that would leave you blushing. You playing with their stuff like taking Peña’s aviators or taking Carrillo’s walkie talkie, forcing them to chase after you and grab you, making you all feel slightly aroused by the close proximity that you all shared. It was friendly on the surface, but it was bordering a line of no return. You all were determined to keep it as nothing more, nothing less.

But the lines were getting closer to being blurred by touching each other. It was more frequent, and it was getting harder to never let it drift down to where it was actually needed. You longed for a touch on the arm to go to them grabbing your breasts, just like they longed for you to go to palming them in their pants. And maybe it had to go further with them going under your shirt, getting a chance to let their rough, calloused hands touch your soft skin. Maybe it was necessary for you to reach down, going to their underwear to feel the thin material only making their erections more prominent. Maybe it was necessary to just strip everything off, to act on impulse and do what felt right in that moment. After all, protocol could be broken in desperate measures.

Needless to say, it wasn’t hard to let your mind go down a road of endless possibilities of having just one of them take you, perhaps letting both of them take you. Late nights alone in your apartment could be filled with you moaning their names, one hand down your cotton shorts and the other palming your breast, letting profanities slip out as you drew yourself closer to an orgasm. You thought of having one fucking you senseless and the other fucking your face, neither one of them taking any action in slowing down their actions. How they could edge you closer to an orgasm, but deny it in the last second, seeing you whine at the loss of their touch that was a drug to you. You thought of how they would love to see you beg for more, to fuck you harder, to let you cum, to make you forget the day’s events until you were seeing white.

You just wished that they would take you one day so that you wouldn’t have to wonder how big they actually were in those pants that would occasionally outline their cocks. The image of them right before you, their cocks painfully hard and waiting to fill your mouth up and reach the back of your throat. To feel those soft, delicate hands of yours wrap around it, pumping it slowly and making eye contact with them as you did it, batting those eyelashes at them before taking them in your mouth again was what brought you on the brink of an orgasm. The image of them waiting to take you so they could ruin everything about you, leave you with your makeup running down your face and a hoarse voice from all the screaming of their names would be imprinted in your brain.

And in their respective homes your name could be escaping their lips, their hand down their boxers, pumping slowly and letting a finger circle around the tip, wishing it was your tongue on their cock. They wanted to look down to see that mouth of yours stretched wide open, trying to fit their cock in your mouth so it could reach new depths. They wanted to thrust into your mouth, grab your hair so they could take control while you took it all like the good girl that you were. They wanted to hear and feel you gag on their cocks, making them grunt and whisper sweet nothings to you about how you were doing a good job of taking them with no complaints.

Sweat would be dripping down their face as they thought of taking you in the office after seeing you in a tight blouse and equally tight pants, just wanting to rip the blouse open and hear the buttons fall on the floor as they took a breast out of your bra to suck on them, hearing soft moans come out one by one from you before they just took you on the fucking desk. Out in the open to relieve some stress and try to see who could make the other cum first before going home to finish the activities. Or even after a night of going out and going back to each other’s homes like this one, maybe acting on impulse to kiss you instead of watching you walk in, seeing the way your pants cuffed your ass the way they would cuff it with their hands.

The fantasy was alive in your minds, but you guys wouldn’t act on it. Escobar was what mattered, not having Pena and Carrillo strip you naked and take you until you just couldn’t take it anymore, your sensitivity making it impossible to take it from either one of them. Them fucking you until your juices are just coating their fucking cocks, screaming so fucking loud that the cars that drive by are barely audible. Them getting off on seeing you in a state of euphoria, the high of cumming multiple times would have you see white as your eyes rolled back. But Escobar was the top priority, and impulsive decisions were never good. They were unnecessary risks that led to consequences that the faint hearted couldn’t handle.

“One drink won’t hurt, right?” Peña looked at you, and then Carrillo. Carrillo was hesitant, not knowing what one drink would do. One drink was the fatality of all morally right decisions. It could be the drink that led to answers of questions that a sober person would normally omit. It could be a detriment to a friendship, a relationship even. It could change the dynamics of how you would all look at each other, knowing how you all were in a different environment without the looming pressure of catching Escobar on your minds. To let all the stress, whether it would be mental, emotional, or physical just escape for once. That was what one drink could do, but was it worth it?

“Just say yes. That’s all you gotta do.” You bit your lip as you said it, your fingers twirling your keys as you waited for his answer. Were you trying to entice Carrillo by biting your lip? Yes, but what would a little lip bite do to someone? It wouldn’t hurt anyone. What would hurt would be how they would take you objectively, just as you imagined they would. A pain that would be worth feeling as it drew you closer to climaxing and fulfilling a fantasy that was created in the depths of your mind the moment you transferred down to Columbia and laid your eyes on the two of them.

“Yes,” With the way that he said it, it was almost as if he was trying to familiarize himself with that word. After all, it was used in a context of agreeing to go upstairs to a woman’s apartment that he’s been waiting to fuck for as long as he could remember. A smile tugged at your lips from his response and you went to open the door, feeling both of their eyes on your ass. You decided to make it interesting for you by dropping your keys, bending down to reach them, putting your ass out on the forefront for them to look at and long to touch, as were you longing to have them touch you in the most intimate of places.

You finally opened the door, turning on the light and placing your keys on the table, moving out of the way so they could walk in. You took notice of their outfits, Carrillo in that dark green outfit that was a tad bit too tight around his arms, highlighting how strong he was on top. You looked over to Pena, seeing that his shirt was unbuttoned, sweating near his neck which only made it harder to ignore how his neck was a turn on for you. It was just so strong, and it only looked hotter when he was angry. The way his neck would be flexed, the tension reminding you of how his arms would be flexed when he would be man-handling a suspect. You forced yourself to peel your eyes away from them and walked over to the kitchen, going to the refrigerator. Knowing that beer was the “safer” option for three of you, you pulled out three bottles, feeling that wine would be a bit too formal for a night like this.

You handed them the beer after opening it up for them, letting your fingers brush past theirs. You wondered how they would feel on the rest of your body, caressing it or making it a point to feel pain that was more so pleasure for you. You walked back over to the kitchen to get your beer, taking a small sip, letting the alcohol enter your body after a day of no success in catching Escobar. It was disappointing, to say the least. You guys were putting your lives on the line, with no avail. Escobar was always two, three, maybe even four steps ahead of you guys and there was no one to turn to except each other.

The police? Not a chance with the way they were all on a payroll for Escobar and every other drug lord that could pay them off. The Columbian Government? They were just as bad as the police, maybe even worse as they were the ones setting the example for the police to follow. Your government? They were no help to you guys as their actions were the complete opposite of what they said they were doing on television. All they wanted was to ensure that they could get some money out of this and to have the chance to play captain on a boat that was sinking. The president could lie all he wanted to on television, to say that they were making progress in something that was only going to go down in flames in the end. But the fact of the matter was you were the ones that were out there that could see the lies. The government only wanted the glory of saying that they helped with the war on drugs, if you could even it call it that.

Were you guys perfect? No, not in the slightest bit. You got your hands dirty in the line of war, even when you wanted to stay dry for just one day. Blood covered your hands no matter how hard you scrubbed it off. It was still there, in memory. No number of promotions, awards, or congratulations from those that knew or didn’t know the situation at hand could make you guys feel relieved in what it was that you guys did every single day. It changed you guys, whether you believed it or not. You were not the same as you guys were before the wild goose chase of finding and capturing Escobar was set into motion. You saw things you wished to forget, did things that haunted your dreams, and wondered if everything that you guys were doing was for a noble cause.

In theory it was, saving the people from drugs that destroyed families, homes, and could bring down anyone that was against it. But in reality? It was just politics, something that you hated for as long as you could remember. Politics that only worked in your favor when it was something that could suit the ones in power. It was bullshit, but so was everything about this war on drugs and capturing Escobar. You needed a break from the bullshit that surrounded your life as a person trying to capture someone so far out, and so did they.

So, one drink was what brought things to a haze of some sorts, to where you said things that you would normally keep to yourself. You made a few flirtatious comments, letting the alcohol do the talking that you wouldn’t dare say with a sober mind. You guys all went over to your couch, and you were in between the two of them, Peña to your left and Carrillo to your right. The tv was on, playing a black-and-white Columbian movie that none of you guys were paying attention to.

Your beers were slowly dwindling away with each sip and the conversation started to take a turn from light to heavy. You felt yourself relax a tad bit, seeing them relax too and look more alive. You got another drink for the three of you, and the more the alcohol entered your bodies, the closer you got to making rash decisions. You would touch them in places that you only thought of when you would touch yourself, needing a release of some sort without taking it too far. Maybe the lack of eating made it easier to have the alcohol take over quickly, or maybe you were just done waiting for something that needed to happen. They did the same but were more subtle as they wanted to tread carefully, not wanting to blur the lines of friendship over a misunderstanding.

By the fifth round, it was decided that they would crash at your place for the night, seeing as though they couldn’t even call a cab for themselves without slurring their words. You felt yourself become wet at the thought of them staying over, knowing that they would only be in the next room over instead of being a drive away. You weren’t sure if your drunk self could keep your fantasies hidden away with that in mind, and they weren’t sure if they could last knowing that you were in the other room, in skimpy clothing that barely kept you cool with how hot it was down in Colombia.

Suddenly there was less space between the three of you, your arms brushing against one another and they leaned in closer to you, to where you could smell the hints of cologne that sent you on a frenzy. Maybe sometime in between they both made the accusation that you moaned when you got a whiff of their scent, but you only laughed, knowing that they had no clue as to how you really moaned when you were being pleasured. You playfully hit them, letting your touch linger a bit longer than it should’ve. You felt the goosebumps rise on their skin with your touch. The hair on their necks would stand tall as you leaned on either one of their shoulders, and you could feel goosebumps on your skin rise as they would casually place a hand on your thighs, to just grab something that was across from them. Their hands were strong and were interesting to look at, seeing that they held stories that you didn’t know about.

Their eyes would be a tell-tale sign that they had seen the horrors of trying to dismantle a drug cartel. But their hands were the proof of them trying to make a difference. They would move your hair out of your face, taking their time in studying your features. You were all treading on uncharted territory that was dangerous, but danger was what was needed in life. Danger was the fire that would keep you alive. To burn brighter and higher as you took chance after chance to live a life that was only shown in the movies.

Deciding to stop drinking after the fifth round, you got up, placing both of your hands on one of their thighs to balance yourself. You could feel them tense up from your hands gripping their thighs, but they didn’t say anything about it. You took their beers as they were done, and you brought them over to the kitchen to throw them out. You were getting ready to get some water when you heard them whispering. You couldn’t make out what they were saying but you figured it was nothing serious. Suddenly, they got up and went into the kitchen. You turned around and saw them eyeing you, making you feel hot. Their stare made you question whether or not you could last until you went to bed. You went to go to another part of the kitchen, but they got closer to you. You took a sip of your water, needing something to cool you off as you felt hotter with them being so close to you.

As you went to turn, Horacio came up behind you, placing his hands on your hips and dipping his head to bring it closer to your neck, his breath fanning it. Javier was in the front, looking down as he took his fingers and brought them to your chin, lifting it up ever so softly. You stared into those deep but gentle eyes where his irises had bloomed from the arousal that was building from the time he walked into your apartment.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks and you bit your lip, seeing that had a reaction on Peña as he let out a slight groan at the sight of your teasing. Horacio let his hands drift down to get closer to your clothed core, something that you longed for. While Horacio went south, Javier ventured away from the northern area and went to grab your breasts, lightly squeezing them. It felt so fucking good to be touched after such a long time of being denied of that desire.

“Bonita, don’t fight it. Let go.” Javier could sense that you were trying to hold back, not wanting to give in just yet. Horacio hummed in agreement as he continued to kiss your neck, wanting to make it easier on their end to get you to stop holding back. You let out a soft moan, barely audible once Javi got to your shirt, opening the buttons and letting his fingers touch your breasts. Horacio let his hands unbutton your pants, not needing to see what he was doing. Perhaps he had a lot of experience like his partner did.

“Just say yes. That’s all you gotta do.” Horacio mimicked your words from earlier as he let his hand go into your underwear, feeling how your arousal has been building for the both of them. Javier unbuttoned your shirt entirely, letting your lacy blue bra be exposed. You knew that you couldn’t fight it anymore. You managed to catch your breath and open your eyes, still seeing Javi’s eyes transfixed on to you, waiting for your answer.

“Yes,” You breathed out, feeling Horacio’s fingers go down where they needed to be at. Javi wasted no time in capturing your lips, and you moaned in his mouth as his lips were the perfect blend of beer and cigarettes and Horacio had gotten down to putting his fingers in between your lips, gathering your slick to then rub your clit.

“How long have you been like this for? Were you just going to go in your room and get yourself off without a little help?” Horacio whispered in the shell of your ear, rubbing nice and slow, making your hips roll with him. You continued to kiss Javi but Horacio’s words made your face burn with heat, moaning slightly in the other’s mouth as Javi touched you all over.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom,” Javi said in between kisses. You all separated but it wasn’t until Horacio carried you bridal style to the room where it finally hit you that this was happening. This was not a fantasy no longer. No, the two men that you were torn between choosing wanted you just as much as you wanted them. If that was not enough to send you over the moon, the way you were placed on the bed and both of them staring down at you, waiting to ravish you was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Javi turned to Carrillo, and the grins they both shared before moving over to you made your stomach drop. Before you knew it, your clothes were being discarded, shirt thrown to the side, your bra unclasped, pants shimmying down with your panties and you were helping them without a second thought, now with you completely naked and them still fully clothed.

“Let’s see how pent up you are,” Carrillo murmured, him trailing up to you to kiss you and Javi traveling down to your exposed sex, his fingers drumming in between your thighs to get them open.

“Open up for me, cielo.” Javi commanded as you were slowly getting lost in Carrillo’s kiss, his much rougher and hasty than Javi’s. You opened up and soon you felt that fluffy hair nuzzling between your thighs before he used his plump lips to suck on your clit. You moaned into Carrillo’s mouth as his hand traveled to your breasts to pinch and tease your raised nipples, the added sensation making you lose focus. You were biting Carrillo’s lip here and there as your hand was moving down to his pants, rubbing his prominent bulge that you were pleasantly surprised about. Before you could do much more, he moved his hands away to undo his belt, pulling down his pants in one swift move after.

Immediately you were clawing at Horacio’s shirt, trying to get the buttons undone so you could feel him, pull him closer to you so that when your peak reached you could fall apart with him all over you. He laughed in between feverish kisses over your neediness, pulling off his shirt too as he pulled away from you, your mouth falling agape as you realized that everything you thought about him was right and then some.

“How does she taste?” Horacio asked as he was stroking himself in his briefs.

“Like heaven,” Javi pulled his head up to speak and dove right back down without a second thought, making you whine more. Horacio captured your lips once more as he was moving his hand between both of your breasts, nipples become overly sensitive from it all. You didn’t know what to focus on more, but with the way Javi sucked on your clit and licked with the perfect balance, not letting up as if it was his last meal unlocked something in you. There was no guy that was more enthusiastic about eating you out the away Javi was. He put his all into it, occasionally licking from bottom to top, top to bottom to get every drop in your slit, giving you a minute to catch your breath before he went back to your bundle of nerves which made you arch your back. But when the deft fingers that you always found yourself getting lost into looking at slipped into your sex, the band of control snapped.

You moved your hand back down to tease Horacio, slipping your hand under the waistband of his briefs to touch him, semi hard already which put a smile on your face. But that smile soon went away as you felt Javi curling his fingers as he pushed them in and out, lightly grazing your spot as he sucked on your clit a little faster, matching the same pace as when he pushed in. You were a mess, sweat beading down your body, hands trying to find someone to grip to hold yourself together, and you were willing to lose yourself because of their ministrations for a lifetime. And so you did, the way Carrillo’s tongue slipped into your mouth, the twist of your nipple, the curl of Javi’s fingers, the way your bundle of nerves were sent over the edge, you were a goner. Blinding pleasure took up your body, mind, and soul as you stilled in stroking Carrillo’s cock and your legs tightened around Javi’s head. But neither of them stopped working you through it, only continuing and slowing little by little until you were done. With that, they moved away from and marveled at how you looked, the smirks on their face making you want more.

“You sure you’re ready for more?” Javi cooed, and you frantically nodded your head as you got up. Horacio was only in his briefs but Javi was still clothed, making you pout. He realized what you wanted so he undressed so he did as you moved to the edge of your bed. Horacio decided it would be more fun if he kissed your neck while you watched, and the show was more than you expected. You knew that Javi’s golden skin was meant to be worshipped, but to see him half naked as his white shirt was pulled off, undoing his belt as he took off his pants, briefs coming down with them as his cock hard, precum leaking when you didn’t even get the chance to touch him as much as you wanted to.

“Someone likes what they see,” Carrillo whispered in your ear, making chills run through you. He came back around and you realized he took off his briefs as well, leaving them naked right in front of you. Without much thought, you got on your knees, getting close to them. If this was how they were now, you wondered how they kept it together being around you so much. You took both of them in your hands, pumping slowly and looking up at them, seeing Javi gripping the bed and Carrillo trying to hold it together by biting his lip, blood threating to seep out if he bit down any harder.

“Who should I start with?” You batted your eyelashes at them, looking down at their cocks and seeing the precum leaking out over your finger.

“Do what feels right,” Javi encouraged, so you took his, still pumping Carrillo with a little more speed and kitten licking the tip to catch the precum, the salty taste making you smirk. You began to suck the tip, looking up at him with the innocent eyes you always teased him with, you both knowing that there was just a glint hidden in between your stare that meant something else, something beyond professionalism. Seeing that he was straining himself to not thread his other hand in your hair, you went ahead and began to take him all, no more teasing after dreaming of this for so long.

“That’s it, take it all,” Javi praised, grip on the bed getting tighter, his knuckles turning snow white. You flattened your tongue and began to take more of him with ease, and the guttural groans escaping his mouth you were in pure ecstasy. You kept bobbing your head, matching the pace of stroking Carrillo’s cock, your fingers swiping over his tip or you gagging on Javi’s cock. You didn’t care about how used you were for the moment, just that your biggest fantasy was coming true.

“Go please him now, pretty girl.” Javi pulled you off of his cock, and you shifted over to Carrillo, wetness dripping to your thighs with the way he looked at you. Instantly, he wrapped his hand around your hair and spat on his cock, getting it nice and ready before you were beginning to take him in your mouth, the stark contrast between the two driving you insane as you loved the gentle nature of Javi but Horacio’s roughness was just enough to make you want more.

“That’s it, let me fuck that pretty face,” He was thrusting into your mouth and you were taking it, Javi deciding to move your hand away to stroke himself and watch you in the act. You could feel yourself gagging here and there, his sheer size making your work overtime to take him, but when he would hold your head in place to fuck your mouth, you couldn’t help but moan. When you slapped his thigh to let you up, he did, bending down to kiss you afterwards.

“I knew with how much you talk I could put that mouth to good use,” He whispered in your ear as they both help you back up to your feet. Your jaw was a little sore, but it made you excited as you wondered what the stretch would be for you where you needed them most. Hell, if you knew this was going to happen you would’ve trained your other hole to take them both at the same time, feeling them both thrust in and out, the fullness that you craved from them finally being achieved. You pictured laying on Javi’s soft body, back flushed against his chest, his cock halfway in your hole, and Carrillo holding your legs up as he pushed in and out, the stretch making you cry from so much overstimulation as you would rub your clit to match his thrusts. You needed that to happen if this would happen again between you three, but you settled for laying back down on the bed and Carrillo and Javi joining you.

“Who do you want to go first?” Javi asked, hand rubbing in between your legs.

“Depends on what position you both want me in.”

“I want to see you. All of you,” Javi moved his hand down further, index finger swiping over your clit to make you buck your hips. “And considering how much this one looks at your ass, I think he’ll want you from the back. Am I wrong?” You both looked at him, and the amused smile confirmed it all.

“He’s right. Now choose cariño.”

“I want Javi to go first.”

“Say no more, bonita.” He kissed your cheek and moved down, putting his hand sin between your legs to open you up. Carrillo got up and started to stroke himself right above your mouth.

“I’m happy I get to use your pretty mouth once more,” You were smiling as he looked down at you, the way the moon was highlight the sharpness of his body, trailing its way up from his stomach to his chest, to the strong neck that you could see yourself leaving marks on. Your eyes shot back down to his cock however, still glistening and the tip leaking more with precum. You sat up and he tapped his cock against your lips, making you take him in your mouth to stop the teasing. You moved your head as best as you could but when he took control and fucked your mouth again, his cock hitting your throat repeatedly, you were moaning as you enjoyed how he used you, and how you could feel Javi gathering up slick from between your lips to smear on his cock.

“Such a good slut for him,” He murmured as he climbed on top of you and was rubbing the tip of his cock in between your folds, tip hitting your clit especially and rubbing around to make you jump. He pushed in without warning, the stretch making you moan loudly and Carrillo stilling inside your mouth. Your walls fluttered around him as he pushed in more, nice and slow to feel you, take his time with you. You could see from your peripheral the way he was biting his lip, holding it together as he softly sweared under his breath.

“So fucking wet, all for us,” He bent down to whisper it in your ear, making you clench more around his cock. He rutted inside of you, making sure every ridge and curve would be felt. It was a slower pace, but you figured he was slow as you were a little preoccupied with how Carrillo was still using you until he pulled you off, letting you rest your head back down on the bed.

“I want to watch. Give me a show,” Carrillo kissed your forehead and moved off to the side, leaving you to focus completely on Javi. He thrusted with more consistency, skin slapping as you could feel the curve brushing against your walls. You clawed at his back, trying to hold it together as you didn’t think in a million years that he would feel this good in just a few thrusts.

“Javi, fuck, you feel so good,” You were whining more, legs wrapping around him.

“That’s it baby, let it all out.” He cooed in your ear as he went a little faster, the speed finally giving you what you needed. It was as though you two were rocking a little, both wanting the other to pull out but the fullness you had and how your velvety walls clung around his size made it impossible to want to pull out fully. All you knew was that in this moment, you would go into any position for them just so that you could feel both of them fill you up in different angles. Tips pressing up near your spot, the stretch, the way your walls would cling to them out of desperation, everything you could want was happening as you moaned while sucking Carrillo’s cock and Javi was realizing how no matter how much he would tighten his hand it never matched to how you felt.

Javi’s hand snuck down in between you and the flick of his finger on your clit made you jolt, a sharp moan coming out of you and going right to Carrillo as he thrusted into your mouth a little more. Toying with you, he would match his thrusts and slap your clit a little making you whimper before rubbing it to soothe you. Before you could pull him out of your mouth to say anything, you came with a force so heavy it blinded you, the moan coming from deep inside you that vibrated through Carrillo as you moaned. Javi rode you through it while Carrillo continued to use you.

“You loved being used like this don’t you? A little slut for the two of us.” You hummed in agreement which made Carrillo buck his hips into your mouth more.

“Do that again and I might have to fuck your pretty face again,” Carrillo half warned, half made a promise on it. You contemplated on it, but the idea of testing your luck with the man that scared and also turned you on got the best of you. So you did, and the way he took hold of your hair and thrusted relentlessly made you tighten around Javi’s cock.

“Keep tightening around me, hermosa,” The strain in his voice, knowing that he was fucking into you harder, faster, all too consuming while you were testing the limits with your throat, jaw-slacked and looking up at him with the doe eyes that both of them loved once you regained control of yourself. How you managed to breathe through your nose and take it even when he barely pulled out of your mouth to let you breathe was beyond your understanding, but to have both of them was worth it.

“Gonna make him cum, little one?” You hummed in response as Javi’s death grip on your hips loosened and you unwrapped your legs, him pulling out and painting a nice cum shot on your stomach, thick ropes of cum that made you tighten around nothing. He was out of breath, perspiration lining his skin, biting his lip even. He squeezed the tip more to get some more out, and Carrillo pulled out of your mouth. You brought your hand down to get some on your fingers, swiping it up and tasting it. You could see Javi shutter and Carrillo transfixed by the way you lapped it up with each venture down to your stomach and back to your mouth.

“Cleaning up your mess like I knew you would,” Javi moved down to kiss the top of your head as you tasted the last bit of it, enjoying the saltiness of it all. “But how are you feeling?”

“I feel fine. Little tired but I can go on.” You were still catching your breath but the haze that was clouding your mind made you want to go on for more.

“You sure? I don’t want to push you.” Carrillo, surprisingly soft, pushed your hair back.

“If I can’t go anymore, I’ll stop.” You smiled at him and he held back a groan. How could you look so pretty below him?

“You think you can take me?” He countered, and the thought of being stretched out further excited you more than it should’ve. Oh, how did you last this long without having them?

“Doesn’t hurt to try now does it?” The glint in your eyes stoked the fire inside of him that he thought was already burning red hot the moment he entered your apartment.

“That’s a good girl. Turn around for me.” You turned around and got on all fours, facing your mirror and the window which let the moonlight shine on all three of you. He got behind you, hands settled right near your love handles and pulled you towards him, just when you could feel the curve of his dick pressed against your slit, rubbing right in between.

“Look at you coating my fucking dick, baby,” Slapping your ass, you jolted as he pressed the tip near your hole. “And now I get to feel you.” And he pushed in a little roughly, the stretch almost unbearable as you didn’t think you could take either one of them. But you did, the slow yet strong pumps to test you out was eliciting the wanton moans that could be heard out the window. Javi reached down to you and kissed your temple, tilting your head so you could look at him.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, bonita.” He pushed the stray hairs out of your face as you took the slow increase in speed from Carrillo, the tip brushing your walls with each thrust. Javi grabbed one of your breasts and teased your nipple, pinching lightly. You bit your lip as the pain and pleasure mixed together, building with each second that passed. You couldn’t see much but both Javi and Carrillo were looking in the mirror, watching you with intensity. Although Javi was through, he felt a jolt go through him as he helped you get off. Carrillo took glances at your ass and your reflection in the mirror, getting harder at the site of you arched down, taking it him whole.

“Ay, ella se siente increíble,” Carrillo threw his head back a little as you started to meet him halfway, your breath hard to catch as you were beginning to get overstimulated. Javi met you down to your face and kissed your temple, mumbling sweet nothings in Spanish that if you could translate you would probably flutter around Carrillo.

“Baby, take a look at yourself in the mirror.” He whispered as his hand moved from your breasts up to your head and grabbed a fistful of your hair. His grip on your hair as he lifted your head up to look in the mirror made you whine, but your walls only tightened when you saw all three of you in the mirror. Javi’s face so close to yours, lips grazing your temple, you bent over in obscene ways, Carrillo taking you where you could see the way his arms were flexed based on the grip he had on your hips. You watched as he fucked you harder, seeing that he was looking down at how he was going in and out of you. You reveled in how soft Javi’s lips were against your skin, how he worshipped you and Carrillo took you in ways you never would speak about in broad daylight. Javi pulled away to move up and face Carrillo.

“Doesn’t she look so pretty like this?”

“She does. Should’ve done this sooner,” Carrillo was throwing his head back as you were beginning to meet his thrusts to get ever inch. Your third orgasm of the night was gaining traction and you were beginning to move a hand down to rub your sensitive clit but Javi stopped you, swatting your hand away and moving his other hand there.

“You’ll cum on our command. Got it?” Javi was looking at you through the mirror. You nodded but then you felt Carrillo and Javi stop. “Use your words.” They were both staring at you and you tried to gasp for some air to speak properly.

“Yes. I’ll cum on your command, I promise.” You darted your eyes between the two and they resumed, much to your pleasure. Deft fingers toying with your sensitive clit, curved and thick cock exploring your walls, and you were in your world of desire that seemed to be taking new heights the more you continued this. But now, with your climax getting closer and closer to blooming, you were beginning to feel your body shake.

“Not yet. Hold it.” Carrillo stayed steady with his thrusts and the tight circles that Javi was rubbing was making you grip the sheets.

“Please! Please, please let me cum!” You were begging, so close to the thread snapping and you cumming undone. You saw that the two of them looked at each other and nodded.

“Cum.” That was all that you needed to hear before you cried out, collapsing your upper half but the lower half being held up by Carrillo as he fucked you through your orgasm and Javi slowed his circles. You soon heard the grunts and felt the slow and sloppy thrusts coming as Carrillo pulled out and Javi moved away. You turned around to face him, on your knees in the bed looking up at him with your mouth open. He came with a grunt, the cum landing right on your tongue and a little on your lip. You swallowed it all and cleaned up, giving him a smile and it made more shot out on his hand. You took his hand and licked it up too, winking at him.

“So proud of you, princesa.” He grabbed your jaw gently and kissed your forehead. You were a mess, albeit a happy mess as you were trying to catch your breath with all the pleasure washing over you. Soon it slowed, Javi’s hand moving away to rub your back and Carrillo helping you lay down. Javi gave you one of the pillows as you lifted your head up to lay on it as Carrillo got up to go to the bathroom. Javi laid next to you and caressed your face, making you blush.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“I am. I don’t know how I’m going to get to work tomorrow though,” You joke, knowing that your legs were jelly at this point.

“We’ll drive you, but you better be walking since we can’t carry you around all day.” He kissed your forehead right when Carrillo came back with the towels from your bathroom. Javi took his towel and Carrillo tossed his to the side, tending to you. He got on the bed and was on top of you, wiping you off as you hummed in relief. Javi finished wiping himself off just as Carrillo got done with you. Still unable to move you were amused when Carrillo tossed your legs a little to get the sheet from underneath them. He then draped it over your lower body and then wiped himself off. Javi got under the sheet with you as Carrillo tossed the three towels in your hamper haphazardly.

“Someone’s gotta do their laundry now,” Carrillo teased.

“I’ll get to it eventually. Gotta find the feeling in my legs again to move.” Both laughed at your new state, used to you running around and now you were bed ridden for the night.

“By the morning you’ll be fine. But sleep.” Carrillo was getting ready to get dressed again as well as Javi, but you got up.

“Can you both stay with me?” You shifted your eyes between them, the little pleading as you moved to the middle of your bed igniting something in them.

They obliged after some thought, you in the middle with Carrillo on your back and Javi near your front. Carrillo’s hand rested on your ass and Javi’s was right near your shoulder. A little awkward, but both of them were softly snoring within minutes with all the energy you took out of them. Maybe you would end up not talking about it until the time came round again or even in passing, but for now you let the calm call of sleep lull you away.

[ok555ficideas]

Girl crush

Inspired by the song “Girl crush” by little big town, but more specifically by the Harry Styles cover of it.

Kevin had no idea when exactly he fall in love with Aaron. He knew that he was already attracted to him. Just because he thought that being straight was easier didn’t mean he didn’t acknowledge a long time ago that he was not in fact straight. After all, why would anything in his life be easy?

Aaron was an attractive man, but then so was Andrew. They looked almost exactly the same and yet the goalie didn’t make his heart flutter the same way his brother did. 

The more Kevin stared longly at Aaron the more differences he noticed between the two. Kevin knew Andrew better than the back of his hand. He had spent a long time studying him, not because he found him attractive, but because looking at Andrew made him feel safe.

The blonde would kill him if he ever admitted this out loud, but Kevin considered him his best friend. He was his protector and Kevin cataloged everything about him and carved it into the back of his mind.

So when he started looking at Aaron more and more he had a good amount of data to compare.

When they started hanging out after Neil and Andrew became an unbreakable unit and Kevin didn’t fancy being a third wheel, Kevin was a goner. Of course hanging out with Aaron also meant being a third wheel, because most times than not they were accompanied by Katelyn 

Kevin didn’t mind. He honestly adored the cheerleader. She was a bright spot in Aaron’s life and there was nothing Kevin loved more than the back-liner’s genuine smile. 

She always brought it out of him and Kevin could bask in its glory. 

It took him an embarrassing amount of time to realize he was in love. He first noticed it when he felt something unpleasant deep in his stomach at seeing Katelyn join them for a coffee when she previously thought she wouldn’t be able to make it.

It was a weird feeling, because Kevin started to enjoy Katelyn’s company sometimes even more than Aaron’s. 

When the next day he felt his heart ache when he saw them kissing he realized what it was that he was feeling.

Jealousy.

Longing.

Love.

He was screwed. So many people to choose from and he got to fall for his straight friend with an amazing girlfriend, he couldn’t even complain about in his head. 

From that time on every time he looked at Katelyn he craved to be her. He wanted her long red hair and her magic touch that always seemed to soothe Aaron’s every worry. He wanted to drown himself in the bottle of her perfumes. The ones that Aaron always knew her by. The blonde could have recognised her with his eyes closed by that smell alone. 

Kevin wanted that. He wanted to be so wanted and known by Aaron. He felt crazy with need every time he looked at either one of them. 

Kevin had enough. He hated the way he felt. He hated that everyone around him was happy and he was miserably pretending that everything was okay. 

So he did what he has always done. He went and got drunk. He tried to drink his sorrows away, but failed. The alcohol only intensified the longing and despair in his heart.

It was the weekend. He had a dorm to himself since Neil and Andrew decided to leave them all behind and drove to Colombia on their own. 

Kevin was sitting on the floor of his empty dorm room with a bottle of half drunk vodka in his left hand and starred into the distance with tears in his eyes. 

Suddenly there were the beautiful hazel eyes, that he was dreaming of every night right, right in front of him. 

He thought that he must have died or passed out, because he never saw them look at him like that. 

“Kev, what’s wrong?” Aaron said with concern. 

“I’ve got a girl crush.” Kevin said with a slur and giggled a little at the ridiculousness of the sentence.

He didn’t want Aaron to know about his feelings, but he has reached his limit. He needed to put it all out there or he was going to lose his mind.

It already started to affect his performance in Exy and that is where he drew the line.

He had to be honest, no matter how much the rejection would hurt. 

“I’ve got it real bad.” Kevin continued with a small hiccup. 

Aaron laughed at that a little and the furrow of his brows disappeared.

Good. Kevin hated when Aaron was worried. He didn’t want him stressed out. He wanted him calm and relaxed like he was every time Katelyn was in the room with him.

That thought made Kevin look around in search of the cheerleader. There was no sight of her and Kevin was disappointed. She should have been here. Even though Aaron was about to break his heart and not the other way around, he would still feel bad after. He would need her and she wasn’t here. 

“Who’s the lucky girl?” Aaron said with a smile and Kevin sighed at that.

“Katelyn.” He replied. 

Aaron took a sharp breath and Kevin knew that he must be putting two and two together. He was probably terrified and didn’t want to hear what Kevin had to say, but Kevin couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“I want to taste her lips.” He said as he looked at Aaron’s.

The ‘cause they taste like you’ was on the tip of his tongue, but he thought that he would spare Aaron that image. 

The blonde already looked like he was about to cry and Kevin didn’t want to cause him any more harm. 

He couldn’t even if he tried, because he felt the sudden need to throw up so he got up from the floor as fast as he could and barely made it to the toilet. 

When he returned back to the living room Aaron was already gone.

---

The next day Kevin felt like shit. The memories from the previous night were a painful reminder that he had probably screwed up his friendship with Aaron.

Hell, even worse. He had probably screwed up his friendship with Andrew as well.

Aaron would probably tell his brother that Kevin was in love with him and that it makes him uncomfortable and Andrew would keep his distance and treat Kevin as a threat to his twin’s safety. 

He should have kept his mouth shut. He should have just tried to forget about it and moved on. 

Just as he was about to let his thoughts spiral out of control there was a knock on his door.

He went to open it and saw Aaron looking like deer caught in the headlights. 

He awkwardly moved out of the way and Aaron went in slower than necessary. They stood there in silence for a while until Aaron got the courage to speak.

“She’s everything to me.” He blurted out. “Kate, I mean.” 

Kevin nodded at him a little confused. He knew that. He didn’t need Aaron to say it.

“I get why you like her, I do. She is perfect.” Aaron continued and Kevin was taken off gourd. “Trust me, dude, I get it and I can sympathize, but can you not? Like she’s all I got and I love her so much. You can have anyone you want. Just not her, please.”

Kevin stood there like a statue not really understanding what just happened. He ran through his memoirs from the previous night and fought the instinct to face palm. 

Aaron thought Kevin was in love with Katelyn. Kevin in his drunken daze was so sure that Aaron would connect the dots, but of course he didn’t. How could he when all Kevin talked about yesterday was the cheerleader. 

This was his chance to take it all back. This they could come back from. 

“I will get over her. I promise.” He said and saw all of the tension in Aaron’s body leave him. “To be honest, I don't think I could have taken her away from you if I tried.” Kevin said with a forced laugh. “She is crazy about you. Honestly, I don’t blame her, you’re a catch.” 

Aaron blushed at that and Kevin’s legs almost gave out under him. He caused that blush. He was talking about Katelyn, but nonetheless it was his doing and he felt satisfaction creeping up his spine. 

“Could you keep it between us?” He asked and Aaron nodded. “ And I think I will need a little time away from you guys, you know, to get this under control.” 

He saw Aaron’s face fall, but only for a moment. Aaron nodded again.

“Thank you, I will leave you to it, then.” He said and made his way to the door. Just as he was about to walk out he turned around and looked Kevin straight in the eyes. “You’re a catch too, you know. You will find someone in no time. I mean, who could resist you, right?” He said with a smile and walked out the dorm.

You, Kevin thought. You could resist me and I don’t want anyone else. 

[pliablehead]

favourite get to heaven album moments GO (it’s that sort of evening)

ohhh geez okay yay!

• blast doors is one of my all time fave EE songs and I think the lyrics slap AND jon’s voice is ridiculous AND there’s that sweet little bass lick near the end that hits so right

• i also adore the lyrics of zero pharaoh… the wordplay is just chefkiss, i love that the title of the album was almost gimme the gun hehe (side note i know you said album but ZP is one of maybe the ~deepest cuts I’ve seen live and it slapped HARD and jez bustin out the bass station u know u know)

• i genuinely always forget how delightful S/S/W/D is and then it comes on and i’m like oh right! my friend!!

• i mean, the drop in to the blade. it’s iconic for a reason

• the wheel is a perfect side A ender i loovvvee that the lyrics are all up in the liner notes

• fortune 500 iambic pentameter!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i literally backed up and added more exclamation points to that because i felt like I didn’t put enough originally. also how the intro to that song feels like there should be 8 counts and then there are only 7 and it so PERFECTLY wrong-foots you in the EXACT tone of the song if you don’t know it expect it it’s sooo good

• i mean there are so many elements of the gth tracks in a Live Context that are also so important to me. s/s/w/d singalong. girl i’m from the motherfuckin’ distant past. the later-days intro to distant past where they ease into it so slowly and sardonically on the guitars now. jon’s adlibs in the middle section that are Patently Not the lyrics from the album. No Reptiles As Church. (the communal ‘ohhhhhh’ he summons forth… my beloved,,) pete SLAMMIN the distant past sound bites. mike’s regret tambourine. wah

in conclusion theyre good songs brent

[savi-our]

Falling in Like with you...

Red - (UF Sans)

Red hadn't thought much of you at first, you were just a familiar face in a bar full of people. Just another somebody in a place full of nobodies. He minded his own business, as he often did, downing drinks faster than he could pay for them. You had done much the same, and as time passed it almost became routine. He would find you there, at the bar, a familiar face in the dim light. It was on a rainy night that he finally spoke up, no introduction, no opener, a joke about the weather of all things. He had made you snort and chuckle at the puns that just kept pouring out of his mouth, it was as if the more he drank, the funnier the jokes would get. He had tried to pick you up once or twice, on the days that his nightmares followed him outside the confines of his bed, dirty one liners masking the dark circles under his eyes. And you indulged him, of all things, you had indulged him. You didnt shy away from his advances, rolling your eyes and snorting at his half assed attempts to get you closer, if even for just one night. But that was as far as it ever went, you indulged him and then youd be gone, whisked away by the night. He felt loneliest of all when he watched you slide out of your seat, and as much as he loved to see you go, he hated feeling you leave. He didnt know when he began feeling this way, when your familiar face became his comfort, when the roll of you eyes made his smirk widen, when the prospect of you leaving made his mood sour. It scared him, by the stars it scared him. Both his comfort and his longing were growing by the day, and he was afraid. Afraid of so many things, afraid of the way his soul hurt whenever you were near him, afraid that one day you might stop indulging him, afraid of what would happen if you didn't. But as day turned back into night, and the familiar bar greeted him for the umpteenth time, you were no longer just somebody in a crowd of nobodies. You were his somebody. His comfort and his longing.

Edge - (UF Papyrus)

Edges life has been full of unexpected things lately. He never expected to see the sun and the clouds, he never expected to watch the ocean waves lap across the sandy beach, he never expected a life of calm and peace, but most of all he didn't expect to catch feelings. So when he found you - you who little by little sent his soul fluttering, you who sent his thoughts skittering whenever he heard you laugh - you who listened to him so attentively and paid attention to the little things, it was like a punch to the gut. He had needed weeks to come to terms with the fact that he actually liked you, not to mention the months of denial beforehand, but when one early afternoon you had come to visit the house and ended up jointly cooking up some late pancakes, he thought he would curse the stars for ever thinking he could keep his feelings locked away. You were just cooking, and cooking had soon escalated into talking, and talking escalated to teasing and teasing escalated into yelling. Soon it escalated so far from cooking that both of you were covered head to toe in flour. He sputtered, a deep crimson blush on his sharp cheekbones as he listened to you laugh at his expense. Both of you looked ridiculous, but at that moment he couldn't seem to mind. Your laugh made him want to bend at the knees and swear out the devil for how it made his soul stutter and swell at the sound of your annoying little laugh. He wanted to stomp his feet and tell you to shut the hell up. He wanted to curse you out for ruining his good shirt. But his blush betrayed him, his soul hung on every word you said, on every glance you sent his way. He decided it was okay - perhaps more than okay. Liking you was like getting on the wrong train, a train that made the scenic route worth the trouble. Like taking a wrong turn but arriving 10 minutes earlier. Like getting the wrong dish but liking it more than your original choice. It was both peaceful and unnerving. Liking you was akin to seeing the sun the first time, like dipping his toes in the ocean the first time, like seeing the light at the end of a very dark and empty tunnel for the first time.

[cinnabells]

BITTERSWEET TRADEGY

bratz and co

leilani choi |

‘05 liner. Moved to Korea three years ago, she is a small streamer, best friends with Bella and Kiyoko, is solely a BTS stan but likes Stray Kids and TXT as well, and spends most of her time in a relationship with video game characters. 

kiyoko sakamoto | 

‘05 liner. Gacha addict, dedicated her life to the delusion of seeing Enhypen in person. Theater kid, loves musicals, has watched High School Musical 20 times. 

isabella norwood | @tinkerbells | @bella_🔒

'06 liner, biggest Enhypen fan, has never been to any concert or event but has watched I-LAND like 30 times and has bought all of their albums. ride or die, and a major shopaholic.

lara raj |

‘05 liner. the trio's online bestie, the biggest Megan Thee Stallion fan to exist, a Degrassi enthusiast, once took a flight to Korea to comfort Bella after she broke up with her boyfriend. the finalist on Dream Academy.

ryan pham  |

04 liner. 3/3 Long distance bestie, is the mom of the group (not really)  will buy his children whatever they want, posts about kpop and how ridiculous the industry is like he’s getting paid.  

justin kim |   | @justin_kim | @jklvrs🔒

'04-liner. The funniest guy in the world is the problem child of the group, has no filter, occasionally listens to ENHYPEN but isn't a fan (he will become one), and has a YouTube channel where he acts really fruity but claims he’s straight.

prev | masterlist | next

ׂׂૢ SYPNOSIS;

The life of Leilani Choi was the textbook definition of chaotic; her dad was a military man who was always away for the better part of her childhood, and her mom was, well, she was present at least. Growing up in a mixed-race community should've made this little life a little simpler, yes? Dear mother was overbearing; Leilani just wanted to be normal and go do teenage stuff without her mother on her back all the time. Unfortunately, the people she hung out with were the wrong people, and she suffered the consequences. That's how she found herself in Korea, made a few bad choices, and thus she was forced to move back home, but moving to Korea wasn't all bad; she made new friends and even started a few hobbies, and fortunately one of those hobbies was becoming a fan of Enhypen, and that led her down the road of their maknae, Nishimura Riki, and that became a whirlwind of unexpected paths. The moral of the story is... don't fall in love with a K-pop idol.

ׂׂૢ TAGLIST: @rikidaze @roarr-ki @momoch1s

(comment or dm to be added!!)

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Water Damage

Water Damage plays a thick and noisy variety of drone, favoring looooooong compositions that the band refers to as “Reels”; on Water Damage’s most recent LP, 2 Songs, you get two reels, subtitled “FUCK THIS” and “FUCK THAT” (band’s caps). All those verbal antics feel appealingly playful, but the music is deadly serious stuff — not surprising, given the players involved. Members of this septet also play in Austin-associated bands like USA/Mexico, Marriage and Spray Paint. As the band’s moniker suggests, the music is patient, persistent and often insidious. Here's some music the band has been listening to.

Travis Austin

Surface of the Earth — Surface of the Earth (1994/95, Reissued 2022 Thin Wrist Recordings)

New to me when it was reissued and the record I’ve played most since then. It feels as huge to me as it does microscopic — prehistoric as it does post-apocalyptic.

Jon Hassell — Aka/Darbari/Java: Magic Realism (1983, E.G. Records)

Start to finish, I don’t know of anything else that sounds like this — the hazy atmosphere and way the rhythms tumble. From the liner notes: “a ‘coffee-colored’ classical music for the future.” And the cover is by the same artist who did the cover for Bitches Brew.

Mike Kanin

Archie Shepp — Blasé (1969, BYG/Actuel)

I heard this one for the first time just this past year. I can’t believe I’ve missed it. By turns raw and beautiful, honest and evocative, what’s here transcends genre while highlighting Black experience and struggle. Incredible work.

George Dishner

Clipse — Hell Hath No Fury (2006, Star Trak / Re Up Gang Records)

The most engaging rap record in history as far as I’m concerned. Pusha, Malice, and the Neptunes peaked. Sonically HHNF is minimal and alien sounding, almost nonmusical at times. Lyrically, it’s bleak throughout and incredibly funny at times (some of the best punchlines ever recorded). At 12 songs and 48 minutes with only a few guests and skits, there is no fat whatsoever.

Remarc — Sound Murderer (2003, Planet Mu)

I’m always looking for cheap electronic records at every record store. Mid 1990s Jungle scores are the best. It’s a pretty narrow subgenre but one of my favorites. Remarc checks all my Jungle boxes — chaotic, lo-fi, dubby, rough. It’s devoid of any pretentious jazziness or techy soullessness. His formula is pretty basic — supreme mastery of The Amen and sick ragga Bass shit. This is a comp of some of his best stuff of the era when Jungle was at its best.

Nate Cross

Omertà — Collection Particulière (2022, Standard In-Fi, Zamzamrec)

Not to point out the obvious, but France is a huge influence for Water Damage. I’ve obsessively kept up with everything they’ve done and all their various related projects and their label Standard In-Fi. This is Omertà’s second LP; the group features members of France, Tanz Mein Herz, Societe Etrange and more. The album is a vibe, I can listen to it over and over. Really interesting to hear these folks do something more ‘song oriented’ instead of the normal long-form style in their other groups. Also, you can never go wrong with two bass players.

Bumblebee Unlimited — Sting Like a Bee (1979, RCA Victor)

Always been a huge disco nerd and Patrick Adams was a genius. This one-off LP and group was about as close to perfect as you can get and is a sort of bridge between disco and house music. So much glorious repetition on this album, and the bass lines are minimal brilliance. The chipmunk-esque vocals are ridiculous, but still work so well (similar to another 1979 disco gem — Bryan Adam’s “Let Me Take You Dancing”).

Jeff Piwonka

John Coltrane — Olé Coltrane (1961, Atlantic)

This is one of the first jazz albums I heard that had two bassists on it, Reggie Workman and Art Davis, Davis being a little lesser known I think and a really really amazing bassist. This whole album is great but the first side, 18 minutes of everyone going in and out, and there is space for the bassists to get weird with arco and pizzicato playing. I’ve known this album for a long time, but it’s been played a lot lately because both my 4-year-old and 16-month-old grab this record from the shelf all the time. It’s really strange actually, I put it in a different spot each time and they still grab this record very frequently, it’s a French pressing and Reggie Workman’s name is spelled “Reggie Wokrman” and Eric Dolphy is “George Lane.”

Greg Piwonka

Lungfish — Artificial Horizon (1998, Dischord)

Love this record, and the repetition is something that I often thought about as we were still figuring out Water Damage ideas. I feel like some of the newer songs that we are working on sound like extended Lungfish songs. Much of that has to do with the influence of this band on my drumming. There is a part toward the end of this interview where Daniel Higgs talks about experiencing repetition as a listener, and how there isn’t really a thing such as a repeated passage in time — that it’s unique every time… the listener is creating the pattern. That idea is foundational to me in relation to what we do as a band. Every time we play, I get lost and question how the pattern is even working.

Palace — West Palm Beach/Gulf Shores (1994, Drag City/Palace)

These two songs back-to-back are high on the list of my favorite things ever recorded. The mood here reminds me of all the rundown beach towns around the Gulf. The playing is great, it sounds like they just went in the studio and made it with very little effort. Many other recordings have that same vibe, Neil Young’s Zuma, Songs: Ohia’s Didn’t It Rain, John Coltrane’s A Love Supreme… this list could get long. I guess a technical term for that vibe is magic. I had not listened to this for a few years and returned to it recently and instantly loved it again.

[warsofasoiaf]

What is your favorite Bashir episode and why is it Inter Arma?

Inter Arms Enim SIlent Leges is a good episode, and one worthy of a full episode analysis given its complex themes regarding patriotism and loyalty. It's my favorite of the "serious" Bashir episodes, but it's not my favorite Bashir episode ever. That belongs to the absolutely delightful Our Man Bashir. During many Bashir episodes, his idealism comes into contrast with pragmatism many times such as with O'Brien in Hippocratic Oath. Bashir as a character has a love of espionage, albeit a very romanticized version, and his idealism comes quickly in contrast when he meets the actual nitty-gritty of espionage in Obsidian Order ex-operative Elim Garak and the terrifying fanatical Section 31. Bashir sees it as an adventure, to fight cartoonish supervillains in the holodeck or spar using dialogue with Garak across the lunchtable. Here, like every holodeck episode, the fun and games have real consequences.

Let's get this out of the way first though, this episode is a comedy and it's a very funny one. Bashir is playing a James Bond-esque adventure clearly modelled after the more gonzo offerings from the Roger Moore era. Holodeck episodes can often be used to create completely ludicrous moments that would simply be out of place in a regular episode (Patrick Stewart's noir dialogue, Brent Spiner in an Old West dress). The actors are clearly enjoying the ridiculousness of the plot and play it to the hilt. Avery Brooks is having a ball as Hippocrates Noah as he rants about destroying the world. Nana Visitor gave the worst Russian accent she could and couldn't stop smiling at turning around on the revolving bed while wearing a slinky dress. Just watch as any character, even Andrew Robinson saying the world "molten lava," and watch how much emphasis they're putting on it, to the point where even the protagonists of the episode are hamming it up. When it comes to some creative projects, the fun that the actors are having in the role comes across the screen, and that mood becomes infectious, and Our Man Bashir does that with remarkable gusto.

The opener lets you know that this episode won't be very serious, with Bashir in full James Bond swagger, taking out the evil henchman Falcon with a champagne cork and a one-liner so he can smooch a Bond girl, only to be interrupted by Garak, who has clearly hacked his way into the holosuite to see what Bashir has been doing and relentlessly troll him while doing so. Andrew Robinson has always been a great foil for Alexander Siddiq and the two have great on-screen chemistry in every episode they're in, but this episode really takes the cake with Garak's sarcastic quips to start followed by serious disagreements with to follow. The episode opener even ends with Garak saying: "What could possibly go wrong?" to lampshade how holodeck episodes always are "crew stops in for a little recreation in the holodeck, malfunction happens, hijinks ensue as the fictional becomes real."

Then we have the escalation, where Sisko, Kira, Dax, Worf, and O'Brien all get blown up in a runabout, and their transport patterns are stored in the system computer and routed into the holosuite, turning the characters of Bashir's spy flick into the bridge crew. This is completely BS Star Trek technobabble of course, but it's a clearly transparent framing device to give Bashir and Garak the stakes. They have to continue the holosuite adventure or their friends get dumped from memory and deleted. The holosuite safeties are off, so if any of the characters die, either Bashir or Garak or any of the avatars of the bridge crew taking the characters, then they die for real. It's so blatant it almost feels like a wink and nudge, much as how Kira can't keep from laughing when Bashir, Dax, and O'Brien are shrunk in One Little Ship. Making matters worse, is that several of the characters are scripted to die. Bashir's heterosexual life partner Chief O'Brien becomes his eternal nemesis Falcon. So while O'Brien will play his role and attempt to kill Bashir without a second thought, Bashir can't simply eliminate Falcon because it means terminating Miles. This sets up not only the stakes, but the central conflict between Bashir and Garak: idealism versus pragmatism. Taking out O'Brien is easier, but it means killing him. On the contrast, if Falcon kills Bashir and Garak, the program ends and everyone dies, O'Brien included.

Bashir and Garak continue through the adventure, with Garak frequently commenting on how none of this represents actual espionage work that he performed for the Obsidian Order and that this is all ridiculous nonsense. To Garak, being an operative meant getting his hands dirty and performing morally dubious actions for the good of the state. This is a staple of John le Carre spy fiction and the chief dramatic antithesis of the James Bond motif. In le Carre's works, spycraft was often grossly out-of-sync with the stated moral philosophy of the nation's practicing it, and this is true in our own world, from CIA coups in Central and South America to promote illiberal autocracy to NKVD brutality against the proletariat that they were ostensibly laboring to elevate. To Garak, Bashir's spy program is an insult to the very difficult work that he had to do - Bashir gets a penthouse suite and a sexy valet polyglot genius pilot with a Bond girl name the equal of Pussy Galore or Honey Goodhead, Garak does grunt work as a gardener on Romulus and may or may not have had a hand in the unexplained deaths of multiple Romulans. Garak's life wasn't a fantasy...it was work.

The rest of the spy novel proceeds, with Kira playing the role of KGB vixen Komananov, clearly a stand-in for Russian Bond girls like Tatiana Romanova and Garak as a clearly unwanted plus-one (as Bashir's holoprogram is designed for one participant). They meet Worf as a suave French henchman, where even Michael Dorn's stoic baritone only adds to the comedy. Worf often plays the Straight Man in any scene he's in, but with the added glitz and glamour, he truly pulls off the role of a capable number two man to contrast with Hippocrates Noah's lunacy. This is one of the strengths of the episodes, in taking the characters and using their strengths while getting more than a few to play against type. Dax goes from confident old soul to the naïve Honey Bare, Kira adds a seductive edge while not losing her aggression, and Starfleet Captain Sisko becomes a high-functioning genocidal madman (though given Avery Brook's performance as Joran Dax, it's clear that he can definitely play villains with skillful aplomb). It's this sort of playfulness that maintains the comedy while trusting in the strength of the actors to carry their scene.

Sisko as Noah might be the story's antagonist, but the true conflict in the scene happens with Garak and Bashir as their idealism vs. pragmatism comes to its conclusion. Garak has done a lot of shady business and has accepted that there are casualties in conflicts, and while it's certainly not ideal, in the end it's better to take out some of the bridge crew rather than all of them, and that sometimes you need to cut your losses. While not explicitly stated, chances are good that Garak is remembering intelligence sources that he cultivated that he abandoned when they were discovered. Garak castigates Bashir as living out a shallow power fantasy where he pretends that he's a hero; Garak knows the truth - spies aren't heroes. They do deeply unpleasant work for the benefit of their nation. And so, he says that he'll end the program and save himself, and that Bashir isn't the man he pretends to be and won't stop him.

Bashir refuses to surrender to the obvious choices that Garak and even the program itself asks, as its script demands either Honey Bare or Komananov dies while the other girls gets with the hero. This culminates where to prove his conviction, Bashir shoots Garak non-lethally, proving to Garak that Bashir truly means what he says. In that moment, Garak learns that Bashir was listening to him, that in the course of being a spy, you must sometimes do things that are undesirable and unpleasant in pursuit of the ultimate mission. And so Garak, corrected, can only urge Bashir to "lead on," finally identifying him as a true secret agent, instead of a pretender. In the final climax, Bashir takes Garak's lessons to heart, espousing the need to cut his losses. In a complete twist of the holoprogram's script, Bashir sides with Noah and destroys the world, confusing the actors who genuinely don't expect to win. Bashir knows that the world being destroyed isn't real, only the characters on-screen are, and so he stalls out long enough for everything to be redeemed.

But where Bashir learned from Garak, enough to be a "real" spy to derail the program, Garak also learned from Bashir. About how imagination and playfulness sparks creativity and non-lateral thinking. He offers to join Julian Bashir on his next adventure, and the happy ending is achieved. Idealism is maintained, lines drawn, and the characters grow. If it wasn't for an MGM cease-and-desist, there may have been more spy adventures, but alas, this one was the only one we got on screen, with others only in passing.

It's a highly recommended episode, for my part. It's not the deepest, but it is fun and playful, a good comfort food.

Thanks for the question, Anon.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

"It was a lineage that you weren't a part of"BAZ. how do ur one liners always hit

darlin seeing leaving david in his office as the only comfort they could provide??? OH! a little too relatable!! why don't you just take my heart and rip it out of my chest if this is what we're gonna be doing😀

but!!!! they are conversinggggg, maybe we don't need to talk about the horrible traumatic accident that killed a man as a first actual conversation but hey baby steps yall

siblingbantersiblingbantersiblingbantersi(image me dead in the family guy pose)

-🦀

CRAABBBB ANOOONNNNNNN!!!!!

I’m so glad you enjoyed the update my friend. Darlin feeling like the outsider and then being proved wrong is my fav redacted troupe. It was never about lineage to anybody but them, but they can’t see past that.

And yes, Darlin feels safest when they can experience real shit emotions on their own, away from prying eyes. What they don’t realize is the comfort that community and support can offer. Eventually they’ll learn. Eventually

They are so ridiculously siblings dude lemme tell ya

[yupuffin]

In summer 2016, I got one of the Japanese bookstore's last copies of the KAITO 10th anniversary album Glorious Blue. The whole album is full of BOPS, but I got particularly hooked on Doctor=Funk Beat by nyanyannya. I was super excited to see it slated to be performed at Magical Mirai later that year. I learned the choreography as fast as I could and became, to my knowledge, the first person to publicly upload a dance cover of Doctor=Funk Beat using the Magical Mirai choreography.

Sometime in the next few months, I got hooked on the rest of nyanyannya's discography and decided to subscribe to his Patreon. We got monthly updates and the early release versions of some songs, which was cool! I believe it was in the announcement post for the song Justin⇒Jive⇒Justify in which he included the song lyrics, footnoted with "It'd be cool if I had an English translation!"

So, like the bilingual student I was, I went 🤔🤔🤔, assembled my best attempt at a translation, and stuck it in the comments with "Hey, I wasn't sure if you were serious about wanting an English translation for this, but in case you were and wanted to use one, I gave it a shot!"

I thought this would be a singular instance, but I was wrong! Unexpectedly, this led to us collaborating on quite a bit of translation work for him over the years, including captions for his music videos back when community captions on YouTube were a thing. It was a really cool experience. I remember consulting one of my housemates, an exchange student from Japan, to help me proofread my responses to the messages we exchanged. Once nyanyannya started to get into Vtubing, I learned how to make subtitle files from scratch to match the skit videos he'd send me so he could upload them with the final product. Most of those videos have sadly been unlisted now, but I have fond memories of his avatar's antics, and many of the one-liners still live in my head rent-free despite the defunct source material.

The cozy fandom for his body of musical work "the Namari Hime series" was led by a dedicated user who'd host regular drawing chats -- the kind where everyone doodles on the same canvas while voice chatting. Every few weeks or months I'd get to wake up ridiculously early to discuss new song releases and favorite characters with a bunch fellow fans from the other side of the Pacific Ocean, and nyanyannya even joined in himself on a couple of occasions. He laughed at the cleverness of me posting a photo in cosplay of one of his characters "Cash" gesturing dramatically at an ATM. He rightly proclaimed our little corner of the Internet a "super cool fandom."

For a while, we had an unofficial Discord server for the worldwide English-speaking sector of the fandom as well. It's probably still out there, actually! It was really cool to see how the fandom grew over the years from just a couple of people to at least several dozen, if not more.

Shortly after protests broke out across the United States in 2020, I woke up to a message from nyanyannya saying he'd seen the news about what was happening on my side of the pond and wanted to ask if I was okay. It was really touching.

I followed his work less closely after he officially started Vtubing, just because, as a college student, I didn't have the spare time to watch a large quantity of ~3-hour-long videos. And a couple of years ago, I stopped financially supporting him after he started experimenting with generative AI to make YouTube thumbnail images and singing samples.

But we still follow each other on Twitter--even though he posts mostly about Vtubing now, and I mostly post about Hoyoverse games and not Namari Hime. I still see the selfies he posts on Instagram from time to time. And I'm still mutuals with a lot of the previous fandom members, too, even though a lot of them are less active and we don't speak directly basically at all anymore.

nyanyannya's song Fräulein=Biblioteka is featured in the ongoing MIKU EXPO North America tour. nyanyannya is not a mainstream musician. In fact, he deliberately quit mainstream music production before he wrote Namari Hime because of the toll it was taking on his mental and physical health, and turned instead to Vocaloid as tool to help him express his individuality, instead of whatever would be the most commercially successful.

Well, that's just one example. There's plenty more.

KIRA, the producer who wrote the featured song "Highlight," is younger than I am by several years. He wrote the lyrics to another one of his hit songs, "MONSTER," when he was sixteen, and almost scrapped it because he thought nobody would like it. Now a song he wrote played at COACHELLA and he's over the moon.

Utsu-P, behind "Hyper Reality Show," is experiencing similar feelings, as he never would have dreamed of one of his songs featuring at Coachella back when his parents bought him Hatsune Miku with graduation money.

yukkedoluce is another of my favorite Vocaloid producers. He grew up wanting to be an astronaut, but didn't qualify because his eyesight was too poor -- so now he lives his dream in a different form by writing Miku songs about space.

At one of the side events at MIKU EXPO 2018, my siblings and I happened to sit next to a Vocaloid producer named Lystrialle who specializes in making contemporary folk music featuring MEIKO and KAITO. I looked up her music after the expo; her album "You, in the Endless Starlight" almost literally defined my sexuality (or lack thereof), and my Genshin Impact AU is named after some of her lyrics. She runs a Mastodon instance for Vocaloid fans.

What I'm trying to say is... there are Vocaloid producers who might be more comparable to mainstream producers, and there are musicians who started with Vocaloid work and eventually transitioned to more mainstream work. But there's also an endless list of Vocaloid producers who make little to no money off their work and hence are far from major corporate entities.

Individuality and collaboration is at the heart of Vocaloids like Hatsune Miku. Miku is primarily a tool to give musicians the power to create the music they want, not to make a highly successful commercial product. I've given an entire hour-long panel on this that convention attendees still remember ten years later, but that's a lot to put into a post that's already long enough, so I'll spare you the details for now.

Vocaloid was one of my first fandoms back in 2011. I got into cosplay and dance because of Vocaloid. Now I'm heavily involved in my local cosplay performance scene, both in terms of participating in events and helping organize them.

How does that phrase go? Do not recite the magic to me; I was there when it was written.

Don't spread misinformation that Vocaloid producers don't care about people's feelings because all they care about is making a commercial Product(tm).

Instead, please fuck all the way off.

[raxistaicho]

“She started it!”

What better way to celebrate Engage’s release than with another Three Houses post?

So Emblemxeno a while back did a post that I found to be a really really useful springboard to tear into a defense I’ve seen bandied about by anti-Edelgard types for years. Some of you who’ve been with me for longer will partially recognize it from my “it was an accidental imperialism!” post from like last summer or so. Emblemxeno’s post was in reaction to the whole shitstorm that brewed over the ridiculous,

Tweet. I could make a whole post on this but it’s been argued to death already so there’s not much point.

Anyways,

That’s slander, sir!

Edelgard’s coup was bloodless. In Houses, at least. She just told Aegir what was what and the slimeball capitulated.

Aside from that you have the usual rap sheet I’ve talked about a dozen times. That said, nobody’s gonna deny she’s “directly violent” because uhh yeah, this be Fire Emblem, even Eirika and Corrin will be directly violent when they must.

As an aside, where’d this notion that Marth is a near-pacifist come from, anyways? Play Mystery of the Emblem sometime, Marth actually gets pretty fierce when it comes to it. Maybe it’s a Flanderization thing, New Mystery did soften him up considerably.

So yeah, notice how he put “you decided to attack first,” in italics? That emphasis is the crucial point around which his whole argument revolves. It only matters who starts the violence. Escalation isn’t a thing that exists, widening conflict doesn’t matter! With that pretty little meme at your side, you can easily rebuke the fact that recruiting enemies in Fire Emblem, in practice, often comes down to, “join us or we’ll have to kill you,” couched in flowery language.

And if you base you analysis of the morality of actions done during war with, “who started it,” as your starting point, you’re dead wrong and you’re opening the door to justifying pretty horrendous shit.

This is just to emphasize the point. Other Fire Emblem lords always act defensively so any counter-violence is fine in Emblemxeno’s eyes. That’s what makes them different from Edelgard for him.

Now in the case of Fire Emblem, villains are basically always so bankrupt of justification for what they do and the heroes tend to have such a spotless track record that it’s pretty easy to say, “well they started it!” Even the otherwise fairly-mature Tellius games have Daein in 9 and the Begnion Senate in 10 blatantly lacking any sympathetic qualities so the player never has to question their actions while they’re mowing down enemies for EXP.

Simple fact, the series just didn’t adequately prepare its core player base for gray morality, and the discourse surrounding Three Houses - the eternal effort to paint Edelgard black as pitch and Rhea and Dimitri white as the driven snow - is the result. Edea was wrong to categorize people that way in Bravely Default, people.

This part wasn’t very important, I just wanted to toss that in to remind everyone how many L’s Edelgard’s detractors collected when Hopes came out.

It’s cute how Emblemxeno tries to paint Edelgard, the one who most often offers her enemies terms of surrender, as the one who’s a hard-liner about her enemies surrendering.

Need I post, again, the whole “no quarter” line from Seteth during the Garreg Mach defense?

Need I post, again, that Count Bergliez had to offer up his own neck for his entire army to be granted quarter?

Need I post, again, Rhea saying she’d like to put the entire Adrestian army to the sword (which means executing them) herself (meaning personally) in Three Hopes?

It ain’t Edelgard who has issues with accepting surrender, Emblemxeno.

Now in regards to the Judith point, Judith was retreating, not offering surrender. They’re very very different things. Attacking an  enemy in retreat is justified under rules of war even to this day.

I also love how backed into a corner Edelgard’s detractors got over Seteth and Flayn now that it’s starting to become known that other units can non-lethally dispatch them. That Edelgard raises zero fuss over their survival, and in fact can let them retreat herself, certainly punches holes in the whole “she wants to genocide the Nabateans! D:” argument.

Finally, wow, three and a half years out and we’re still getting misinterpretations of her battle dialogue with Dimitri at Tailltean.

(Source)

Edelgard wasn’t going, “no you, you’re the one dragging this war out!” she was calling Dimitri out on the fact that if she fell, he would invade the Empire. She spent a few years in Faerghus with nothing to do, she’d have learned how Faerghus... uhh... reacts to misdeeds done to them. See what they did to Sreng. Twice.

Luckily, Fire Emblem as a series has gotten better about calling into question when the heroes begin to take defensive violence too far. Alm tries his damndest to avoid an invasion of Rigel and yet you’re still treated coldly by the commoners there unless you jump hoops and take out Nuibaba. In Three Hopes, the actions of Faerghus are frequently condemned once they actually invade Adrestia, and the player even ignorantly sabotages an effort by the western Adrestian Lords to rescue Edelgard from Aegir and Thales, which would have ended the war with much less bloodshed.

It’s almost as though the game was trying to convey that escalating the situation by bringing war to the Empire isn’t completely justified just because the Empire struck first. And then when this happened, Edelgard’s detractors threw a gigantic fit about it.

Something something “Edelgard can’t be cute and be serious at the same time.” “Why does Edelgard have no character development? Stop being a waifu.”

A male Edelgard exists: his name is Lelouch vi Britannia and I agreed with him too, Emblemxeno.

That’s because Conquest actually is naked imperialism, and of an intensely brutal sort, no less. Thankfully there’s no indication the Imperial army does anything even remotely close to Hans’s sacking of Cheve.

That’s because Micaiah was being coerced into assisting an out and out unabashed genocide attempt against the Laguz.

Sure feels like 2019 in here, seeing as how we’re back to deadass “why’s Edelgard going after the church? They didn’t do anything to her! D:”

There’s a reason Emblemxeno tends to lose arguments he gets into on Reddit. And then he flounces off for a couple months to fume about it.

And now we’re back to “Edelgard doesn’t know the true history(tm) of Fodlan!”

Now he’s just rapid-firing shitty anti-Edelgard arguments from ‘19 and ‘20 that got long debunked at us.

If only Rhea was just “creepy”.

So while we leave Emblemxeno impotently spewing out garbage points, let me make one more of my own.

So in Tactics Ogre, the game opens with two of the clans on the islands of Valeria, the Galgastani and the Walister, at war because the Galgastani have launched an out and out war of extermination against the Walister, whom they outnumber 7 to 1. Like an actual honest to god extermination campaign, with a forced labor camp and everything.

The protagonist, Denam, is fighting for the Walister resistance. At the end of chapter 1, their leader orders him to launch a false-flag operation against the Walister captives in a work camp and frame the Galgastani for it to unite the Walister and divide the Galgastani. Nearly everyone who learns of this becomes rightly outraged against Duke Ronwey.

Under this law of “who started it,” the Walister Resistance is a lot more justified in carrying out this kind of atrocity, since they’re only defending themselves against Galgastani “direct violence”.

That’s the peril in analyzing morality this way.

[123freemoviesfun]

Review of "Deadloch," a parody detective series about a series of murders in a coastal town

The body of soccer player Trent (Barry Wheeler) is found on a beach by a lake in the small Tasmanian town of Dedlock. Local policewoman Dulcie (Kate Box), a focused and competent professional, takes up the case. But the next day an incompetent investigator from larger Darwin, Eddie (Madeleine Sami), arrives to help. Soon three more male corpses are found, all with their tongues cut out. Dulcie and Eddie conclude that there is a serial killer in Deadloch. And it is most likely a woman. Showrunners Kate McCartney and Kate McLennan admit to being big fans of detectives, especially the series "Murders on the Beach." The writers wanted to create a comedic version of the iconic British show on familiar Australian soil. At first, "Deadloch" seems purely a parody of the many TV series about maniacs and murders. But that's only one side of the project. If "True Detective" or "Top of the Lake" are dark suspenseful stories with no room for humor, the Australian project is filled with jokes, often quite vulgar. The first two episodes are not easy to get used to this kind of tone. The showrunners radically rethink the detective canon, turning the genre's many clichés upside down.

Kate Box as Dulcie in a shot from the series "Deadloch." A series of murders takes place in a small quiet town where everyone seems to know each other, but in fact everyone has a pile of skeletons in his closet. A comparison to "Twin Peaks" begs to be made. Ridiculous junior constables Sven (Tom Ballard) and Abby (Nina Oyama) would have looked organic in David Lynch's universe. Narcissistic coroner James (Nick Simpson-Dix) talks with an important air about the causes of death and marked marks on corpses, as is common in one-liners, but gets it wrong time after time and misses valuable clues. Instead of a couple of investigators who have known each other for a long time and work as a team, the case is handled by willy-nilly partners. It seems that neither Dulcie nor Eddie have never been looking for killers before, and the mutual sympathy between colleagues at the beginning there is no, only competition. The Dedlock policewoman was more likely to write parking tickets and help overindulged farmers get home. Eddie's past is murky.

Madeleine Sami in a swarm of Eddie in a shot from the TV series "Deadloch." In today's classic detectives and thrillers, suspense is heightened with disturbing music and a dark gray on-screen color scheme. Creators of "Deadloch" flirt with the traditional trappings of the genre, but constantly dilute the tension with situational humor and ridiculous situations. Sharp-tongued Eddie jokes about her period, then about the orientation of the locals, but more often simply can not remember the names of her colleagues. Dulcie's overprotective wife Kat (Alicia Gardiner) is always popping in to work with a muffin or a salad. The whole town is interested in the series of murders, and Mayor Alaina (Sueen Youssef) genuinely doesn't understand why the police don't put her on the case. And when all means are exhausted, the screenwriters use a forbidden trick and bring the loveliest seal Kevin to the forefront. The local celebrity will either block a tiny bridge, lounge at the front of the store, or make a funny sound. Yes, Dedlock is not the sweet, tranquil little town it first appears to be, but it's not a branch of hell on earth, either. In "Twin Peaks," Lynch balances on the curious edge of soap opera, mystery and comedy. "Deadloch" deftly offers viewers both a quality detective and an absurdist sitcom. There are a few brutal murders, but is that a reason to stop sneering? If the writers of the series were only parodying famous examples of the mystery genre, but not telling a substantive story, the project would be boring by about the second series. "Deadloch" teases out the same dystopian investigations, but remains an intriguing whodunit detective. The circle of suspects is constantly changing, previously unknown details of the victims' personal lives emerge and the number of murders grows. The Australian series reminds us that a provincial town is not only a scary place, but also a funny place. With each episode, following the developments in the Tasmanian outback becomes more and more interesting. Read the full article