#there was some weirdness going on with the other post | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

custardkittyyy · 2 days ago

Text

(NOTE: this particular ask is for when Leon and Diane are grown up, not teenagers or anything. Although some of the lighter asks of this post may apply across all ages, some more adult topics do not.) Is your OC romantic in the traditional sense? Do they enjoy giving or receiving gifts of flowers or confectionary? Or are there other courtship traditions from their culture of origin that are important to them? Leon is not romantic in the traditional sense. If he is/ever was, it's because he tailored his romance to what Diane most positively responded to. He has no framework of what true romantic actions are beside maybe innocent physical contact.

How important is sex to them in a relationship? Do they see it as something essential to their happiness? Would they be able to remain in a monogamous relationship with someone they loved without sex? I don't think Leon would be that down bad. What he's looking for the most is an emotional connection. That's what he's been after his whole life. He would be perfectly happy in a monogamous relationship with Diane with or without that level of physical intimacy.

How do they feel about public displays of romantic affection? Does it make them uncomfortable? How do they feel if a romantic partner kisses them in public? Leon hates PDA. Even with Diane, the most he'll do is hold her hand.

Do they believe in love at first sight? Have they ever developed a crush or romantic (or erotic) fixation upon a stranger based on their appearance alone? Unless it's toward Diane, then no.

How closely is their opinion of their own beauty (or lack thereof) linked to their confidence? Do they see themselves as more or less worthy of love or sex based on how attractive they feel? I think that since Leon already doesn't think too highly of himself, that it would bleed into this area of his life too. I think it's less about attractiveness and more of how he is as a person. He may not feel worthy of intimacy with Diane because of

Philia – Affectionate, Platonic Love.

Does your OC have a Best Friend? If they do then how long have they known each other and how did they meet? If they don't then do they have a close group of friends they love equally? Or are they more of a loner? Leon has never really had a 'best friend' outside of Diane. He's known her since they were both tweens, and they met at school for special children with superpowers (or the elite)

Does your OC find it easy to make friends? Or are there barriers to them doing so? If so then are these due to issues of inclination, communication, or something else entirely? Leon finds it hard to make friends with other people because not only is he quiet and 'weird' to other people, but also he doesn't really like other people.

What qualities does your OC most value in a friend? Loyalty? Shared sense of humour? Or something else? He absolutely values loyalty above all things.

Is your OC able to build close friendships with people very different from themselves? Perhaps in terms of culture, age or personality? No. Leon is an outcast in general.

What is their most fervent wish for their best friend(s)? How far would they go to make it happen? He wants Diane to love him. He would go so far to make it happen, even if he sacrificed what little personality he thinks he has.

Storge – Unconditional, Familial Love.

Did your OC's parents love them unconditionally? If so then has this helped them feel confident as an adult? If not then how has this affected them? What were the conditions their family attached to their relationship? Leon's foster parents don't even have a conditional love for him. What he is to them is something to show off; something to say 'look at how we took this poor child in, and turned him into a success'. As an adult, he carries part of this relationship over to his relationship with Diane. He wants to impress her, to make her proud of him. Even if they're already married and he does have her in a sense, he's afraid of losing that love.

Does your OC have children? If so then how fiercely do they love them? If they have more than one then do they love them all equally? If they do not have children then is this part of their future plans? Leon as an adult would have children with Diane. He loves them, yes, but not as much as his wife.

How far does parental approval (imagined or expressed) impact upon their current sense of self-worth? What might they sacrifice or attempt to achieve in order to ensure the approval of their parents?

Does your OC have any siblings? If so then did their parents have a favourite growing up? Has their relationship with their sibling changed in adulthood? If they don't have any siblings then do they perhaps feel they have missed out on an important relationship? Do they have any especially close friends who go some way towards filling that role? He does not have siblings, and he doesn't particularly care.

Ludus – Playful, Flirtatious Love.

Does your OC have any particular favourite chat up lines? If not for themselves then perhaps ones they have suggested to a friend? How effective do these tend to be? N/A, he doesn't know how to flirt.

Is your OC particularly skilled at flirting? Have they had to practice this or does it just happen naturally? Nope ☠️

How does your OC feel about one night stands? Have they ever enjoyed a night of passionate romance with a stranger? Is this something they are quite keen on recreationally? Or only something they might engage in under specific circumstances (such as the eve of a battle or after a difficult breakup)? Leon hates the idea of a one night stand. He wouldn't do it with anybody, but if he were to do that with Diane I think he would just feel empty. Maybe even kind of cheap for doing that. He would feel he had ruined everything and felt shame for going with base instincts.

Who was your OC's first crush? How do they feel about it now? Diane. And he's still obsessed with her.

What seduction techniques are most likely to be effective when it comes to your OC? Are there some things guaranteed to get them going? Or are they immune to such things? I can't think of anything because Diane isn't exactly a master at that stuff either. They would both just have to be frank with each other. Maybe Diane might be better at it (which isn't saying much. Leon is super awkward.)

Pragma – Committed, Long-Lasting Love.

Is your OC in a committed long-term relationship (or relationships)? If so then what has contributed to this relationship lasting so well? If they are not in such a relationship, then is this something that saddens them or which they regret? Depends on the Au. Sometimes he is, sometimes he isn't. When he gets lucky and he is, it's the highlight of his life and the reason why he does anything. When he gets *really* unlucky, he either takes out his anger on other people or takes his grief out on himself.

What is the biggest challenge that your OC has had to overcome in a long-term relationship or friendship? What helped them get through this? N/A

Are your OC's parents still together? To what degree do they look to their own parents as a model for their own ideal relationship? N/A ... (bio parents) his father is dead and he got taken away from his mother.

After the initial fires of passion cool to some degree, what would keep your OC engaged in a relationship? Shared goals? Similar values? Or contented companionship? N/A, he's always on fire.

What importance or value does your OC attach to marriage? Do they believe that it is important to make a public statement of commitment to another person (or persons)? Or are they more concerned about inheritance rights and security for their family? Or do they not see marriage as a necessary signifier of commitment and loyalty? Leon highly values marriage. The idea of becoming physically and spiritually bonded with Diane is something that holds him together as an adult. He would do mostly all he does now even if they weren't married, but then being married gives him an excuse. (I.e. "She's my wife, I have to.")

OC Questions on the Seven Forms of Love.

A little list of OC questions based on the seven types of love identified in Ancient Greek thought. Obviously this is a highly simplified presentation of some quite complex philosophical concepts from Classical History, intended more for the purposes of entertainment than education. I also left out Mania, which is arguably an eighth type of love (Obsessive), because I'm keeping it mostly positive in these tricky times!

Eros – Romantic, Passionate Love.

Is your OC romantic in the traditional sense? Do they enjoy giving or receiving gifts of flowers or confectionary? Or are there other courtship traditions from their culture of origin that are important to them?

How do they feel about public displays of romantic affection? Does it make them uncomfortable? How do they feel if a romantic partner kisses them in public?

Do they believe in love at first sight? Have they ever developed a crush or romantic (or erotic) fixation upon a stranger based on their appearance alone?

How closely is their opinion of their own beauty (or lack thereof) linked to their confidence? Do they see themselves as more or less worthy of love or sex based on how attractive they feel?

Philia – Affectionate, Platonic Love.

Does your OC find it easy to make friends? Or are there barriers to them doing so? If so then are these due to issues of inclination, communication, or something else entirely?

What qualities does your OC most value in a friend? Loyalty? Shared sense of humour? Or something else?

Is your OC able to build close friendships with people very different from themselves? Perhaps in terms of culture, age or personality?

What is their most fervent wish for their best friend(s)? How far would they go to make it happen?

Storge – Unconditional, Familial Love.

How far does parental approval (imagined or expressed) impact upon their current sense of self-worth? What might they sacrifice or attempt to achieve in order to ensure the approval of their parents?

Is your OC able to love without necessarily needing or expecting reciprocation or reward? Or are all their relationships to some extent transactional? Have they ever loved another person unconditionally, whether a child or another adult?

Agape – Selfless, Universal Love.

Does your OC wish to make the world a better place? How far do they see that as being their responsibility? What lengths would they go to in order to help achieve this?

Does your OC feel a spiritual connection to the world around them? Do they have a particular love for nature or living things?

To what extent does your OC believe in the value (or even existence) of true altruism? Do they see an unselfish concern for the welfare of others as being naïve or foolish? Or as a moral quality to which people should aspire?

Does your OC have a religious faith which emphasises the importance of a love for all people? If so then do they try to follow these teachings authentically? Or do they just pay lip-service to them? If not then do they follow a more martial or mercantile faith? Or none at all?

Does your OC find it easy to empathise with their enemies? Or do they see it as important to dehumanise them in order to combat them with sufficient determination?

Ludus – Playful, Flirtatious Love.

Does your OC have any particular favourite chat up lines? If not for themselves then perhaps ones they have suggested to a friend? How effective do these tend to be?

Is your OC particularly skilled at flirting? Have they had to practice this or does it just happen naturally?

Who was your OC's first crush? How do they feel about it now?

What seduction techniques are most likely to be effective when it comes to your OC? Are there some things guaranteed to get them going? Or are they immune to such things?

Pragma – Committed, Long-Lasting Love.

What is the biggest challenge that your OC has had to overcome in a long-term relationship or friendship? What helped them get through this?

Are your OC's parents still together? To what degree do they look to their own parents as a model for their own ideal relationship?

After the initial fires of passion cool to some degree, what would keep your OC engaged in a relationship? Shared goals? Similar values? Or contented companionship?

Philautia – Self Love.

Does your OC have a healthy sense of their own worth and value? Or do they see themselves as failing to live up to their original potential? Perhaps they are convinced of their own sinful or inadequate nature?

Does your OC believe that it is important to love themselves in the first instance? Perhaps in order to be able to give and receive love authentically? Or because they believe first and foremost in "looking after number one"?

Does your OC judge themselves by the same standards as they apply to others? Or are they sometimes hypocritical in condemning others for faults they also possess? Or perhaps they find it easier to forgive others for things that they cannot abide in themselves?

Which of your OC's qualities makes them the most proud? Do they think more people should be like them in this regard? Or do they quite like being rare in possessing it?

Has your OC always had the same opinion of themselves or has this changed over time? Have they learned to love themselves - perhaps with the help of others - as their journey progressed? Or have the consequences of their actions only served to erode their sense of self-worth?

#OC ask meme #OC ask game #OC questions #OC #character questions #character development questions #oc ask prompts #oc ask #oc prompts #oc quiz #leonndiane #ahhh.. poor leon

4K notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 1 day ago

Note

Hey I saw your post and honestly this is my first time making a request. How about arcane characters with a cat like reader? Idk it's just a thought that came (sorry if that's a bit weird)

Dunno whether this answers your request like you imagined. Also probs shit fire time writing for some of these characters.

Viktor found your cat like personality quite interesting and humorous if he wasn’t within the lab, working with things that normally didn’t capture your interest, unless they glowed of course.

Other than that it felt as though you were intentionally acting up in his lab for a reaction, like a cat would gauge the reactions of their owners before pushing a glass off the table. That’s how Viktor often felt with you

Then he has to keep an eye on you to make sure you didn’t touch anything dangerous because you were captivated by its light.

‘No, it’s dangerous and could hurt you my dear.’ He so often warms you as he guides your hand away when he felt it was dangerously close to what he was working with. Your mind didn’t head his warning, only the fact that there was a shinny object in the laboratory and it was the only thing you could focus on.

‘If so dangerous, why is it shining as though it wants me to touch it then?’ You responded, daring to touch the object once more and Viktor swore you either knew what you were doing and playing him for a fool, or you had no self preservation skills within your entire body to fight back against your urge to touch a dangerous foreign object.

It’s literally a stand still between the two of you and one that happens far too often that Viktor knows that this was all part of your plan, and unfortunately for him he falls for it almost always. He watches you while you watch him before doing something rash, making think you’ve actually touched the dangerous object, only to look at you unamused when you smiled at him mischievously as you wiggled your unharmed fingers at him.

This often leads you to being banned from the lab for pulling a stunt like that, however this was more for your safety and for him to calm his racing heart. You’ll kill this poor man with your antics but he wouldn’t want you any other way, especially when you cuddled up to him for warmth and sleep there.

It soothes him just as much as it soothes you.

Ekko found himself often wondering where it was you went sometimes.

He sees you in once place and then you disappear the next, returning to base only when you felt it necessary of you to do so, illusive and vague of where you’ve been it was often a bit frustrating. You could’ve been in serious danger for all he was aware and when he confronts you about this behaviour of yours, you’d only shrug and say:

‘Where it is a go on my own time isn’t something you should waste time worrying over.’ Before leaving to go elsewhere within the base and lounge against one of the trees thick and sturdy branches, eyes closed in content as you softly drift off into a light nap.

How the fuck you got up there, he’ll never know other than the fact that you managed to get up there in the first place with effortless ease.

Ekko’s nickname for you was either kitty or something along the lines of a cat based pun. You hated all of them equally but Ekko only feels more vindicated when you only proven his perception of you right whenever you displayed a trait that was common amongst cats. Whether that’d be silently judging everyone from your perch way up high, or lounging in his bed, more specifically where he had laid moments prior, feeding off of the warmth that lingered there or otherwise Ekko would find humour in you cat like traits because they were the things he loved the most.

(In a timeline where they actually have phones I can imagine him sending you cat memes and saying ‘this you?’ Or ‘I found your relative’ he thinks he’s funny, and he is but you won’t admit it out of petty pride)

However the one thing that you could always hold over Ekko’s head was the fact that you could silently manoeuvre your way into a room without him knowing and managing to catch him off guard. Ekko didn’t find it particularly funny but he lets up eventually and admits that it was kinda funny that you managed to take him by surprise. This was why you were more suited to missions heavily requiring a person with an abundance of stealth and agility.

‘Always landing on your feet aren’t you?’ He’d tease but you would let it slid as you shrugged your shoulders and reply. ‘What can I say? It kinda comes with the territory don’t you think?’

‘You sure you weren’t a cat in your past life or something?’ She would ask as she raised a brow at you as you cuddled into her side, much like a cat would when in they wanted to leech off is the warmth of a human.

‘No, why you ask?’ You say as you began to close your eyes, her warmth blanketing you almost immediately, and becoming increasingly sleepy.

‘You act like one for starters with how lazy you are.’ She pointed out and you’d only scoff at her, resting your head on her shoulder, having become too comfortable with your current position to even be bothered to move.

‘I’m not lazy, I’m merely taking advantage of the beauty that is power naps.’ You defend yourself and it was Sevika’s turn to scoff, having heard this excuse countless times before, and it never stopped her from continuing to compare your personality to that of a common house cat.

She disliked it at first, finding it weird and annoying at the fact that you didn’t seem all that bothered with the ongoings of Zaun, instead favouring to rest in high places that provided warmth or close to it and watching everyone with clear judgement within your eyes. However that judgment did end up saving her from time to time, not that she’d ever admit to this, as she was confident in her own abilities to smell a bitch from a mile away.

Though the more as time passed she grew to find it somewhat easier to deal with, though you cuddling up to her for warmth did put her off now and then, affection wasn’t commonplace in Zaun; so forgive her for not exactly taking to it immediately. Though each time you did cuddle into her side, her urge to create distance between you dwindled, from Perivale shoving you away from her, to slowly accepting that this was her life now.

‘Sure, that’s a hell of a way to avoid saying that you’re lazy.’ Sevika smirks when you glared at her, clearly insulted by this, before moving off of her to go rest elsewhere on the bed you shared and making sure your back was towards her in an effort to show your disagreement with her statement. ‘Not. Lazy. I just like napping.’ You retorted.

‘Yeah, sure keep telling yourself that, I’m sure it’ll be true one day.’ Sevika jokes and your shoulders only deflate more, knowing you’ll never win this war with Sevika when her mind is made up. She’s always in the right in most cases.

Mel is all too familiar with your cat like traits that nothing you do is out of the ordinary to her.

She finds humour and amusement in you participating in things commonly associated with felines. A human cat is what you were in her eyes as you slept the easiest you’ve ever slept when besides her, her presence was calming and was more then enough to have you reduced to a relaxed state before succumbing to sleep.

She just had that effect on you and you loved it as much as she does as she got to run her hand down your back.

‘You’re practically purring.’ She teases.

‘It’s not my fault you know exactly what makes me melt.’ You replied as you smiled up at her, never having gotten use to having this absolute goddess of a woman bless you with her smile, her heart, her everything.

Mel smiles softly. ‘You don’t exactly made it much of a challenge.’ She says as she watched the way you practically leaned in towards her touch, eyes closed in content with a smile spread across your face that she swore your nonexistent tail would be swishing from side to side. She has been in this position countless times before and yet it never gets old with how content she felt when moments like these between you and her freely exist within her mind.

You don’t exactly make it hard for her not to love you like she did, it came to you as easy a breathing as that’s how quick you were to fall for her, almost as if it was as though you were breathing; Easy, effortlessly and natural.

‘How can I when you read me so effortlessly and without fail?’ You replied back in almost a purr, a mischievous smile spread wide across your lips, ‘I shouldn’t need to hide myself from my lovers eyes, for she knows me all too well.’ You add. Another thing Mel adored was your cunning but cautious mind and the way you seemed oddly too relaxed for some, watching those very same individuals like they were merely mouses that squeaked about their freedom; like you were being amused by rather was being said in meetings as though you knew something they didn’t.

You were like the Cheshire Cat, often times speaking in riddles that only she herself understands.

Mel kisses the tip of your nose. ‘You smile like the cat that caught the canary,’ she says as she pulls away. ‘Learning more about you is more interesting and intriguing than the last.’

‘Then I hope I stay that way for a long while.’ You said, smirking when you felt her kiss your lips.

284 notes · View notes

syd-djarin · 1 day ago

Text

nut vid with the sound on

frankie "catfish" morales x f!reader

You accidently send Frankie a text that he wasn't supposed to see.

~1.5k words

tags: EXPLICIT, accidently sending a screenshot meant for someone else, reader is feral (she just like me), sexting, mention of light choking, virtual mutual masturbation (m & f!), flirting, Frankie is a consent king!, dirtyyyy talk, voice notes, nudes, nut vid with the sound on, they're so horny for each other

this is my first Frankie fic and I've been thoroughly enjoying myself in the Catfish Pond ;) I hope y'all like the text format, I had fun writing it like this. special shoutout to my babe @almostempty !!! she matches my freak, feeds my delusions & sparks my horny thots. thank you for cheering me on and helping with the dialogue I love you LOTS <3333

consulted this page for spanish used :)

translations:

princesa - princess

tócame - touch me

que cosa/cosita mas linda - what a pretty/pretty little thing

mierda - shit

ay dios - oh god

hazme el amor - make love to me

banners by: @cafekitsune <3

smut below the cut, y'all know the drill!

Frankie: You coming tomorrow?

You: Yes, of course :)

Frankie: Good.

Bestie: bitch if you don’t make a move on fish

Bestie: It’s been months!!! Find out why they call him Catfish ;)

You: STOPPPP

You: you’re right tho I am dying to know

You: Wanna suck his dick til the skin falls OFF

You caption the screenshot of Frankie’s latest Instagram post and text it to your bestie who will appreciate your level of freakiness.

You continue your scrolling.

*ding*

Frankie: I don't think this message was meant for me, princesa.

Opening his text, you realize to your horror that you sent your thirsty thoughts TO Frankie. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuuuuuck!

You: shit, I’m SO so so incredibly sorry! Totally inappropriate and not cool. I definitely meant to send that to someone else. Totally exiling myself from the group.

Frankie: You meant to tell someone else that you wanna suck my dick til the skin falls off?

You: It wasn’t for you. Please forget you saw it. Please Frankie :(

Frankie: hell of a thing to send to someone. how am I supposed to forget the idea now?

You: Pretend. It was a mistake.

Frankie: a mistake? as in, you didn’t mean it?

You: Can we drop it?

Frankie: seemed pretty specific for a mistake. you got freaky with it

You: It doesn’t matter. It was stupid. Please let it go

Frankie: I don’t think I can, princesa

Frankie: not after imagining it

Frankie: You sent a whole screenshot, with a colorful caption attached. That's intentional.

If you weren’t so humiliated, you’d be giggling and kicking your feet in the air that he is calling you princess, but you can only assume he is being patronizing.

You: This is so fucking embarrassing.

Frankie: Not too embarrassed to keep texting though…

You: Frankie don’t

Frankie: You really think about me like that?

You: I think you already know the answer to that

Frankie: I do, but I wanted to hear it from you. This time directly to me

Frankie: I think about you

Frankie: All the time

You: Frankie, please.

You: I already feel terrible

Frankie: Never thought you’d see me like that. Now you’re telling me you’ve been thinking about my cock? and you want me to drop it?

You: Please don’t fuck with me. I’m already mortified beyond belief like I can’t show my face around here anymore!! I’m sorry I sent it okay?

You: I’ll skip the kickback if it's going to be too weird now.

Frankie: Wouldn’t be the same without you there. I’d never tell you not to come.

Frankie: If you really want me to drop it, I will. just say the word

Frankie: but you should know

Frankie: I think you’re gorgeous, hilarious, too fucking smart to be hanging out with us

Frankie: I lose my mind goddamn mind when I’m near you

Frankie: and knowing you’ve been thinking about me too has me hard as a fucking rock

You: Do you really mean that?

Frankie: Yes I do, baby. You have no idea what you do to me

You: Yeah? I might need some enlightenment.

There’s a pause. You brace for impact; that he is really pulling your leg and he and the guys are doubled over laughing at your expense.

Frankie: Might be better if you hear it straight from the Fish’s mouth

Frankie: Get it? Like horse’s mouth but it’s a fish instead

You: I hate to admit I did one of those huff exhales that you do when something is amusing but not quite funny enough to warrant a full laugh

Frankie: At least you smiled. That’s good enough for me

Frankie: Sending a voice note, is that okay?

You: Of course

Then the notification for a voice memo appears. Your fingers hover over the screen before you press play and Frankie’s low, gravelly voice spills into your ears.

“Bebita, you have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted this. I’ve been yours since I first laid eyes on you…You’ve got me sitting here in my truck, trying to keep my shit together, but all I can think about is you on your knees for me. Told the guys I had to take a call… they’d give me shit right now if they knew… they’ve been ribbing me for months to ask you out but I was too chicken shit… way too pretty for me… definitely funnier and smarter than me, but you should know I’m not intimidated by that it's fucking hot… Fuck you’d look so good for me. I’d slide my cock into your mouth so slow, watch your lips stretch around me. You have the prettiest eyes and lips, you’d be heaven down on your knees for me…Shit, I’d lose my mind watching you take it. You’d look so pretty with your mouth full of me, baby. So fucking pretty.”

Frankie: Are you touching yourself? Tell me, pretty girl

You: And if I was?

Frankie: Good girl

Frankie: What are you thinking? How do you feel?

You: So so good, Frankie

You: Thinking about your big strong hands all over me has me drooling baby

Another voice memo appears. When you press play, there’s a groan—a low, throaty sound that makes your entire body shiver.

“You been thinking about my hands, princesa? Want me to hold those pretty tits with my hands, hmmm? Play with your nipples, massage them…maybe you’d like one of my hands gently pressing into the sides of your throat… if you’re into it of course!”

Frankie’s urgency to make sure you’re into that sort of thing makes you smile. The caring, thoughtful Frankie that you know.

“I am so hard for you– ay dios!…Thinking about you sitting on my face, trapped underneath your gorgeous thighs… make you come all over my face. Need you to make a mess on me… rub your pretty little clit on my nose, that’s why I have this big nose… so you can use it fuuuuuuuck…”

His voice grows rougher, more ragged. You can hear the slick, clapping sounds and his breathing. Heavy and uneven.

“Mierda, I’m so fucking close, wish you were here baby–unghhhhh… wanna feel you around me, your pussy squeezin’ my cock… make you come ‘til you’re begging me to stop… do whatever you ask me to…”

You: Show me. I want to see Frankie, please

Frankie: Wanna hear you say it in your pretty voice

Frankie: Let me hear you beg all sweet like for me and I’ll show you what you do to me

You: “Frankie ohhhhh baby I need you so bad… tócame, Frankie, por favor…Always think about climbing in your lap, running my hands through those— ahhhhhh!— curls, wanna feel how deep you get when I ride you… wanna feel you in my goddamn throat — fuck, can you hear how wet I am? I’m making such a mess oh my godddddd… never been this fucking wet baby…”

Frankie: babygirl you’re gonna be the death of me

Frankie: love your voice and the pretty sounds your pussy is making for me

You: can I send a video?

Frankie: no pressure. only if you’re comfortable with it 😘

You: that’s not what I asked, Francisco

Frankie: I know you mean business when you use my government name

Frankie: yeah baby i wanna see whatever you wanna show me

You: Attachment: 1 Video

“Hazme el amor, Frankie…”

Your legs are spread open, your core on display for the camera. He smiles thinking you probably had to find something to prop your phone on. You’ve got two fingers teasing in and out of your glistening pussy.

Frankie: que cosa cosita más linda

Frankie: You have the prettiest, messiest little pussy baby. Thank you for showing me. I can’t wait to taste her

Frankie: As promised, you want something in return for being such a good girl for me?

You: yes please 😇

Frankie: sound up 😘

Attachment: 1 Video

“Fuuuuuuck babygirl… see what you do to me… need to be close to you, need to feel you… make you feel good like you deserve… this is all for you, I am all for you baby…”

Frankie has his cock pulled out of his unzipped jeans, still in his truck, pumping himself. You admire the size and girth of him, so thick and gorgeous. You know the sting and stretch of him entering you for the first time will be delicious. It’s so hot knowing he had to slip away from the guy's night to relieve himself—couldn’t even wait til he got home.

“Been dreaming of you for months, always imagine you when I’m touching myself, you’re in all my thoughts baby… mierda I’m gonna come, fuck baby—unghhhhhh— gonna come so hard for you — ohhhhhhhh fuck…”

Thick ropes of cum drip down his hand, where he’s slowly riding out his high, breath heaving in exhaustion.

You: I think I just blacked out

You: I came so hard watching you fuck

Frankie: Such a good girl, baby. You did so good making yourself come

Frankie: Drink some water 😘

You: Thank you Frankie :) 🩷

You: chugging some water as we speak🫡

Frankie: that’s my girl

Frankie: get some sleep, I’ll be seeing you tomorrow 😘😘

BONUS: frankie's insta

tagging babes who might enjoy: @katiexpunk @evolnoomym @studioghibelli @joelmillerisapunk @joelslegalwhre @sanarsi @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milly-louise <3333

@pedrostories

#snail trail alert 🚨#frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie fic #francisco morales #catfish morales x reader #frankie kitty destroyer morales #text fic #nut vid with the sound on #syd djarin fics #ppcu #pedro pascal characters #pedro stories

235 notes · View notes

niechys · 2 days ago

Text

I'm sorry. I'm so not sorry but also so so so sorry. But I can't stop thinking about it.

from @keferon tf mecha universe

(Also if you don't want me tagging you please do tell. I didn't want to bother, just want to credit cuz it's glorious)

it's because of this post.

Happened after This event

I'm sorry in advance for all the grammatical errors.

I also don't know wo else would be the science guy to take this position of explaining the thing. I feel like there has to be someone else that's not Shockwave too. Sorry to all of Brainstorm's fans out there. I think he's not a bad guy. Just too excited for the possibilities.

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

Something lingers inside that mech. Although there is no hard evidence of a human soul or spirit or ghost haunting it, most people who had anything to do with Vortex agreed that it was best to believe its first pilot never leave the cockpit of his mech. After all, nothing else would explain the freak accidents constantly killing all but the latest pilot.

Human are prone to be superstitious. It's normal to believe in something like ghost in the machine, really.

But one would not think a man of sciences such as Shockwave would take the rumors seriously. No one knows if the scientist really believe it or not. He

Regardless of the rumors' validity, it sure did inspired him.

"You're kidding me" Swindle stood, blinked, looked at the incomplete repair of Blurr's mech then back to the technician in front of him. Brainstorm was prattling on at speed faster than Blurr's F1 record.

"Not kidding. Why would I kid? This is a great breakthrough. Lives can be saved and there are much we could do with the tech, I don't know why it never occurs to me or Shockwave that the neural link tech could have been used in this way---"

Swindle turned his brain off during all the scientific mumbo jumbo all and only really heard him again at "It's nothing all that weird really. Some people disagree, but you can't go against Shockwave when he put his mind to it. If you think about it, it's just like Vortex"

"What?" Swindle blinked again.

"Vortex. That mech, I mean the mech's first pilot, crazy psycho, crazy good at slicing up kaijus"

"I know who Vortex was. I worked here when he started piloting. What did that asshole has to do with this?"

"Oh, everything. If, a big if. If that guy's consciousness was still in the mech like people been saying"

"Haunted" Crossing his arms, he narrowed his eyes at Brainstorm. The technician corrected him.

"Lingering consciousness. Either way, Blurr is in much better shape than Vortex. Brain still intact . So is most part of his body. We wired him to the neural link to allow him control of the mech. So when we are ready, he can still go about his task from within that mech"

"What . The . Fuck"

Swindle's eyebrow twitched. No, it's NOTHING like Vortex's case. The asshole died and probably refused to leave this world. Blurr, on the other hand, was still alive. Sure he wouldn't be the same. Maybe he would be scarred for life, paralyzed from the waist down or something. But hardwiring a person to a mech?

"So, you were working with Blurr before now, correct? That's why we would like to bring you in as his handler. Not like you have to do maintenances and stuff, just take care of him and, the publicity and all that. Like being his manager" With that, Brainstorm handed him a folder before excusing himself.

The guy wasn't bad most of the time, Swindle thought. But sometimes, just sometimes, his passion for science overshadowed the moral compass.

Like how he wished that his own greed would take precedented in his state of mind. They must have thought he would jump at the chance to milk more profit from Blurr. Hell, he wouldn't be feeling this bad if that was the case.

He wanted to refuse. Profit be damn, even he didn't feel right. Blurr saved them. He should be allowed to preserved his humanity, his dignity. Not preserving his brain in a jar inside a mech. If the pilot died and the mech is reparable, you find a new pilot. If the pilot lived but can no longer pilot, you also find a new pilot. Not..this.

But refusing means they will bring someone else on board to manage Blurr. He's pretty sure he wouldn't like that.

Fuck

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

**note. Blurr is not reduced to brain in a jar. Most of his body is intact, just hard wired to the mech.

I tink they can add robot parts to him later all stuff. But since they probably value Blurr as a money cow pilot first. If they can't use his face, they can still use his mech.

Sorry again ehehehehehehehehehe

#tf mecha universe #tf blurr #tf swindle #should I put some kind of tw?#does it count as body horror?#I'm not sure #by the way this can be blamed on gundum I watched #being iron blooded orphans and thunder bolt #they're brutal af #I'm sorry again #tw body horror

201 notes · View notes

jenny-ate-ink · 3 days ago

Text

Just existing amongst other women becomes infinitely more depressing once you free yourself from following the way society tells you that you "have" to look too. It's like you're in parallel dimension seeing all this crushing and brusing weight on the shoulders of your fellow woman and it's endlessly weighing her down to the bone, but you can not help her carry that weight, it's thorns are sunk too deep for anyone else to untangle. Only she can choose to let it go and free herself, yet she pretends she is carrying nothing at all despite the blood dripping down her back. It's such a helpless feeling.

Realizing when look at your female relatives and friends and acquaintancess that you have never seen her face without a mask on (make-up). Knowing that she has more than likely looked at her face and found it so ugly, or even just too embarrassing, to not cover with mask. Know she has looked in the mirror on an already bad day, and just seeing her face without a mask made the day worse when it should have made her feel better. Knowing she had looked in the mirror on a good day and had it ruined by seeing her face instead of a mask or ruined by seeing the mask messed up. Knowing she looked in the mirror and thinks this mask is her, is her "real" face, and "loving" it while hating her face. Realizing that her face is in many ways, your face, and she so disconnected from herself that she hates her own face without realizing she also hates your face by extension, no matter how many times she claims to love your face, really.

Realizing when you see a teenage girl or a woman in some leg-revealing pantswear or a tanktop that she probably felt that she had to shave or else she couldn't wear that. Knowing she looked at her legs, her stomach, her armpits, her arms, her vulva, her lips, her eyebrows, her side burns, and thought she was so gross or just otherly for having a normal post-pubescent body. Realizing she thinks she has to alter herself (shaving, waxing, plucking, trimming) or else she's lesser, bad, disgusting, shameful, cringy, simply just weird, different, or "pick me".

Walking down the street and seeing no teenaged girl or woman beyond yourself left unaltered and maskless, and realizing that everyone has just accepted this as normal, as the unquestionable status quo. It's utterly insane.

once you free yourself from wearing makeup and looking the way society tells you to, walking into a makeup store feels sort of like entering the twilight zone.

#rebloop #women stuff #cw misogyny mention #cw discussing misogyny #cw misogyny discussion

641 notes · View notes

is-it-cute-gf-au-edition · 2 days ago

Note

Hey, thanks for calling my blog "otherwise good content" when most of my stuff is focused on Ford Pines. Seems kinda like a backhanded compliment, but maybe you're just rude IRL. I'm an understanding person.

Anyway, who are you to decide what is and isn't cute? I, personally, think Ford Pines is ADORABLE! I mean, look at him!!! Someone sent me this picture of him with his head stuck in a trash can! TELL ME that isn't some America's Funniest Home Videos (pet category) shit.

Also, apparently, the other guy in the picture punched the person who took the photo? IDK who he is, but he looks like Ford, so maybe Cipher made a clone? Clone's less cute, though. Explain that with your fucking rating system

Hi,

Okay, I'm going to clear a few things up for my followers.

First of all: I really don't want to come off as passive aggressive. That's not what I'm about, and as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't help anyone to be anything but completely up front when you're on the internet.

I'm sorry if my comment seemed backhanded. I started following Jellyskink back when she mostly posted OC character designs, when I was in a hardcore comics and graphic design phase. I haven't kept up with the blog regularly since. I am truly sorry for misrepresenting you here. (I really, truly am a fan of your work.)

With that said, I am not going to be passive aggressive about this. I'm being explicit: THE FORD PINES REPOSTS ARE NOT OKAY. How do I even begin to explain that you're reposting videos of a grown human man being treated as a pet, and not even well?

I rate content based on whether the pets in them are actually displaying "cute" behavior (playful, friendly, well-trained, healthy) or if they're showing signs of distress and mistreatment. That's my rating system. The fact that people want me to "rate" an adult human man when it is, again, against interdimensional law to treat sophonts as pets/livestock and humans are a sophont species, is already kind of weird.

But, hey. I'm willing to play along. I'm a good sport. If they're pet videos, I'll check to make sure that the pet isn't showing signs of distress or abuse!

Except he definitely is.

Jellyskink, let's just give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you're just really bad at reading the room. I'm telling you now: Ford Pines is in obvious distress in practically all of these video clips. I don't think you care. I think you're a Cipher Loyalist and thinks the dorito can just treat Ford however he wants because he's a god. But if you're not, prove it: stop posting exploitative Ford Pines videos. They aren't even your flapping videos, you're reposting them. Go back to making cheesy OC Do Not Steal art. That contributed to the world.

Now, about the picture, since you asked:

RATING: NOT CUTE.

This is a guy who got assaulted with a trash can!! Even if this wasn't a human I'd be rating this not cute! It's horrible! And you know what else makes it not cute? You know how I always give things a bad rating when the handler or the person taking the video isn't being safe with it? Well, the guy taking the picture is 100% about to get assaulted. You know why?

THAT IS STANLEY PINES. Is he Ford's clone? I don't know - how do you count identical twins? Cipher didn't make him, they're brothers. You can literally look it up. How are you a so-called Ford Pines fan and you don't even know who Stanley Pines is? He's the sole proprietor of the anomaly distributor Pines Profundities. It's public record. He's in the New York business registry.

So, yeah. The guy taking the picture of a grown man stuck in a garbage can was being pretty stupid and is about to get punched by the man's brother, because that's what happens when you're a jerk to random strangers in New York.

#Ford Pines is a Human #asks #IU!Jellyskink #cipher loyalists #Trying not to get mad about this #Asker's probably literally an edgy teenager #Just get into MCR like the rest of us and get out of the freaking cipher cult #It's not going to get you a girlfriend #OOC: In-Universe Jellyskink will be tagged separately from OOC!Jellyskink!

107 notes · View notes

blackorchidcoven · 3 days ago

Text

Pick A Card

Your Demons

Pile 1 Spider Nightmare

Song: Venus By Shocking Blue

“ Goddess on the mountain top

Burning like a silver flame

The summit of beauty and love

And Venus was her name

She's got it

Yeah, baby, she's got it

I'm your Venus, I'm your fire

At your desire

Well, I'm your Venus, I'm your fire

At your desire”

This energy is so intense. You’re definitely an intense person. This pile is very personal, I don't expect it to resonate for a lot of people because it’s so particular. I get the energy of someone who talks a lot, who rambles on and on. There’s also this tension… You really love attention. I hate to break it to you but someone has cursed you. I don’t know everything but it’s happened and I have to tell you. That’s why you’re being drawn to this post and to the occult world in general. Deep down inside, you know who it is that’s done it. That bitch! It’s because you have characteristics that they envy and they cannot forgive you for this. It’s so twisted. This may be weird but this pile reminds me of a family member of mine, someone I love dearly and would literally die for. I love this pile. Your life has been hard and it’s not your fault. It always has been since the very start but you never let that stop you cause your loved ones never stopped loving you. You have a strong bond with your loved ones. This is important. Never let them go. This person who has cursed you is unfortunately wedged deep into your family. Maybe they married in, maybe they work for or with your family in some fashion. No matter what, they are lurking.

The image for this pile, the “card” is freaky. It depicts a little girl freaking out as a giant spider with a creepy cat head runs wild. I actually see this spider cat as a protector but the little girl is too young to realize. She is just scared. The cat is guarding her, and who knows… whatever the cat is hissing at could be even scarier than itself!

Cats are independent, intuitive spirits.

So, you who picked this card is the little girl. The cat is your guardian in some form. It comes across strongly. Whether you have one as a pet/familiar/spirit guide, or someone named Cat/Kat/Catherine or someone in mind with other feline attributes

(wear animal prints, have whiskers/facial hair, wear cat eyeliner, have long nails/claws, are feisty 😈 & playful)

Sounds crazy, but cats are! 🐱

In this circumstance with my family member in mind, I’m the cat.

The cat feels creepy sometimes but all you see is cute, so it’s hard to spot them. It’s sad but it’s easier to spot who cursed you rather than who is protecting you. You have just begun to think of life in a spiritual way. You are so excited but this person is ruining it for you, this gives it away. They try to scare you. They live a lie. They aren’t like you and you know it. You do not share the same values. You should get away from them. Cut them off.

This person has become a detriment to you. They are flesh and blood but spiritually they are demonic. I’m sorry but they are. They’re corrupt. They’re into satanic culture and dark society. They want to watch the world burn. They’re made of something you are not. This person just hangs on. They’ve almost been told goodbye many times but it’s never truly manifested. It will but I know it will take a little while but be quicker than you think. I’m thinking around spring you’ll swear you see change even though you feel like you’re imagining it but by the end of summer everything will be taken care of. You’ll see.

Energies:

Cancer ♋️

Hallucinations

Mass Hysteria

Childhood Trauma

Nightmares

Femininity

Girlhood

Goosebumps Books

Love ❤️

Vintage

Tradition

Stereotypes

Comic Books

Action

Art

Curses

Woman

Witch

Beef

Jealousy

Venus

The Past

Scorpio ♏️

Cherished

Spring

Divine Intervention

Pile 2 Swamp Queen

Song: Beautiful By Christina Aguilera

“Don't look at me

Every day is so wonderful

Then suddenly it's hard to breathe

Now and then I get insecure

From all the pain

I'm so ashamed

I am beautiful no matter what they say

Words can't bring me down

I am beautiful in every single way

Yes, words can't bring me down, oh no

So don't you bring me down today”

Okay, you’re your own worst enemy.

This would be my pile 😂

Okay. We get it, you also have a lot to say like Pile 1.

You have a constant internal monologue going on, you’re the star of your own movie. I sense The Star Card for this pile. You are dreamy, spiritual and weird. You’re obviously magical. There’s something strange about you. You are seriously different. You’re not what’s considered normal. You worry so much about whether you come across as normal or not but you don’t have to worry any longer cause I’m going to clarify it for you, you fucking don’t. You are weird. You do not conform to society’s expectations but not because you don’t want to, you just weren’t born to. Most who pick this pile wear makeup, false eyelashes, wigs, dye their hair, have acrylic nails…This is not to hide who you are but actually to accentuate it. You use vibrant colors and exaggerate your natural features so gorgeously! You go! You're not afraid to show your true face though. You’re seriously into skin care/self care/self love and it shows. You glow. Everyone acts weird around you. You’d be surprised why… it’s because you’re beautiful 😍

I do not sense any denial or skepticism from this pile

😆

Everyone already knows …

It’s almost awkward 😐

You do not value appearances whatsoever and this is your true beauty. I sense a lot of empaths in this pile that are just now discovering that they’re empaths maybe even because of this reading!

You’re earthy.

I sense a lot of dark skinned queens here.

You’re a reader. You read books for sure but you read people too. You mind your own business and that’s beautiful too. Maybe you mind your business too much, people want more from you. They want to see you more, talk to you more, hear you laugh more and see you smile… You have many admirers. I mean tons. You had humble beginnings and that’s shaped you into who you are today. You are so mature, too mature. Some want you to relax more and have fun. Some are critical of you and want you to “act your age” they want to dumb you down to their level. They want to party with you, get you drunk and dance 🪩

This is not anything like you.

Ignore these kinds of individuals because they want to change you. This isn’t who you are, if it was then so be it. You’d rather curl up on your couch with a book and a cup of tea 🍵 so do that!

This all sounds so good, then how are you your own problem?

You’re stumped.

You’re stagnant.

A running theme in your life is waiting cause God is teaching you the virtue of patience my friend.

Ground yourself.

Notice everything.

Get comfortable but remember to work hard now so you can relax later.

Stop procrastinating.

Do your best.

You’re idolized behind closed doors. You light up this world.

No one would know an angel like you could have been through hell but that’s the truth. The dark side of this reading is everything you’ve overcome.

The color of this reading is bright green. Slime green like the swamp monster in the image. I see severe chronic incurable illness, sicknesses, nausea, actual vomit. There’s this disgusting and grossed out feeling I get. I get that you feel like a monster maybe cause you don’t “fit in” like I said. You cry about being a misfit.

You put on a happy face. You hate showing people your vulnerabilities but you do so gracefully. You feel nervous a lot, like all the time pretty much. You stay on an even keel of worry. You feel like it’s hard being human, and it is so you try to overcompensate. Just chill out. Your overthinking is a gift and a curse you’ll learn. The present moment is a gift 🎁 so enjoy it.

Energies:

Gemini ♊️

Confidence

Insecurity

Acne

Grease

Iconic

Makeup 💄

The Present

Reality Check

Money 💰

Plastic Surgery

Shots

Needles 💉

Alcohol 🍷

Mirror 🪞

Lips 👄

Mouth

Voice

Throat Chakra

Sexuality

Seduction

Submission

Scorpio ♏️

Scorpion 🦂

Snake 🐍

Mistake

Self Harm

Self Destructive Tendencies

Junkie

Addiction

Flaws

Weakness

Pastel

Accurate

Monster

Shadow Self

Ego

Virgo ♍️

Aquarius ♒️

Pile 3 Wishbone

Song: If I Die Young By The Band Perry

“If I die young, bury me in satin

Lay me down on a bed of roses

Sink me in the river at dawn

Send me away with the words of a love song

Oh-oh, oh-oh”

I see red.

I sense male/masculine energy.

This pile likes my energy so that’s why you’re here. You like how I talk. We could be friends. Oh.

You’re angry. 😡

You’re into conspiracy theories and the apocalypse. You may be religious. You are dying to state your individuality against the other piles.

You’re vulgar. You swear a lot.

You’re like, “Fuck you, get to my pile!”

You are into horror and gothic things.

I see myself as a teenager so you must be pretty darn damaged.

You speak negatively to yourself. You abuse yourself.

You hate yourself. You feel like no one understands yet the ones who do are as bad as you and can’t help you but at least they make you feel less crazy, right?

This is a rough pile guys.

I’m so sorry for who this is for. It’s definitely for my younger self. I’m having flashbacks. I’m uncomfortable.

I have to be honest, this is the work of the devil.

I bet if you are another pile scrolling down out of curiosity you probably could see it clearly but when you’re knee deep in it, you cannot see it and even act like it’s “cool”

It isn’t.

I don’t even know what to say.

Someday you’ll realize why the devil was after your soul so bad, you’ll realize the richness of who you are and maybe you’ll turn around or maybe you won’t.

I sense deep regret. Someone who’s eating their words and really anxious 😥 You absolutely beat yourself up. You cry a lot.

You're young aren’t you?

Just because I said male/masculine energy doesn’t mean some women cannot be involved… You on your period? I’m teasing but really, are you?

I sense mars energy.

Dark humor, sharp features and tall frames. Warrior souls, brown eyes and hardy laughs. A taste for spicy food, picky when it comes to partners and the moral compass of a saint.

You may be scary on the outside but you're a little ray of sunshine on the inside, aren’t you?

Seriously. You got a good soul.

I sense Leo ♌️ energy.

People want to be like you.

You choose what you say very carefully. You tend to obsess about what you say.

I sense a blocked throat chakra.

You may have nightmares you’re choking, this is a result of it.

Pray on it.

Manifest it.

Open it.

You’re actually really loud.

In energy and volume.

You have massive energy.

You may be big physically, if not then you wear wild outfits that get everyone looking & complimenting.

No matter what you look hot 🥵 and sexy.

You get rid of people in your life if they cross you and now you’ve come to a point where there’s no one left. You’re devastated and lost all hope.

You feel like an alien 👽

This is how the devil wants you to feel

Hang on.

Survive. Then thrive.

God will give you opportunities to move on. I know you’re ashamed of yourself right now so move slow.

Be a sloth 🦥

You feel like a joke.

You also feel numb.

I pray for you, I know you’ll be given a fair chance as I was. You just have to wait.

All of our stories are different yet still similar.

I felt like nothing could get through to me, but that was my story until God moved mountains.

I was in a pathetic place so you should listen to my testimony. I was mad at the world until I realized I’m a part of it, that I matter. I realized not everything is as simple as it seems. We as beings are not as simple as we think we are.

You are not “bad” like you say and think you are. You are the author of your own life. You're the writer but God is the editor. If you wanna be bad then be bad if you want to be good be good but the beautiful thing is that we all have different definitions of good and bad.

So define yourself. Then you’ll be happy.

Your demons are real and the literal devil is after your soul. Don’t panic. 🫨

I sense that it’s just spiritual at this point.

You’re not possessed (yet)

Nothing is attached to you but the devil is attacking your subconscious. Either God is making you walk through hell (and it gets deeper my friend) or you’re trying to swim in the deep end, I trust you know which is which. (I know you do)

So if it is out of your control try to view it as a learning experience no matter how unbearable it may be (I have done this and it sorta helps)

If it’s in your control, be vigilant. Stay aware. Remain observant. Question everything. Ponder existence. You will be rewarded. Expect change and you’ll be good. 👍

Make decisions that make you happy.

Energies:

Aries ♈️

Resistance

Stubborn

Cross

Religion

The Holy Trinity

Blood 🩸

Bones 🦴

Memories

Crying 😭

Weight Loss/Weight Gain

Change

Transformation

Roses 🌹

Encouragement

Hormones

Teenager

Adolescence

Leo ♌️

Lion 🦁

Copy Cats

Regret

Mistake

Redo

Restart

Delete

Space

Advice

Friendship

Guidance

Similarities

Red

Summer

#occult #psychic #spiritual #pick a card #witchblr #pick a pile #pick a card reading #Demons #spirituality #spiritual awakening #clairvoyance #claircognizance #intuition #intuitive readings #intuitive messages #intuitive guidance #intuitive tarot reader #divination

72 notes · View notes

siflooping · 6 hours ago

Text

part 2 siffrin edition lets go! this is just random thoughts about how normal theyd be about this :)

listen. in a situation where post-timeloops loopie comes along w the party. can you IMAGINE the sheer Siffrin Pear Wriggler it'd be for him (assuming they know loop is an ex-sif). the guilt of learning they caused the loops (and you know his ass would find a way to make it his fault that loop was stuck as well) that made one of their family members to suffer to the point of having a mental breakdown. probably Ruminate (extreme) about the fact that he was made by the universe to fulfill loop's wish. a placeholder for the real thing. are they even a real person? or even a human being, really? YKNOW. i just think it would prolly Actively Feed their tendency to dehumanize themselves.

and on top of that there's no way they wouldn't feel redundant bc well there's another siffrin right here who was there for their family member during the timeloop and helped them escape! who is stronger mentally and physically/craftwise! who doesn't forget everything all the time! who is helpful and funny and charming and actually really considerate and sweet under their Teehee I'm The Sassy Giggleerrrrrrr behavior!

wow! there's no point to the Clearly Worse Siffrin that is them staying around anymore! or existing for that matter! because surely it's only a matter of time before his family realize he's worthless! and start wishing he'd realize he's imposing, that he's unwanted, and just leave already!

tbh idk what they'd actually DO with those emotions (besides bottling them up and berating himself for feeling that way, because that's selfish and they have no right to Feel Some Kind Of Way when their family member is suffering). I DO think it'd make it extra funny when they end up getting super attached to and developing feelings for loop. add to the fact that loop and sif are both very clingy + loop's weird possessiveness towards sif + sif prolly feeling like his existence alone is something horrible that was inflicted upon loop + the envy/bitterness they both feel towards each other due to feeling like their family is being stolen from them by the other...

by the king's frozen asscheeks... imagine the sheer Destruction the inevitable explosion of that particular cocktail of emotions will cause. nuclear bomb levels of devastation 34 dead 788 wounded. FUN FOR THE WHOLE FAMILY! <3

ok wait you know what'd be interesting and more importantly hilarious. sifloop, but in an au where someone else from the party is looping. can you fucking imagine

#I Love Mess!#god this shit would be so funny. hydrogen baby/coughing bomb ass ship #another great post from me!#sifloop #one and a half hats au

214 notes · View notes

moonshynecybin · 13 hours ago

Note

Sorry so random and hate to asking this like you’re google search engine but what is the deal with Vale and his parents lol

big question! im not sure how much you know so i'll generally cover as many bases as i can and sort of. gather some resources that might help you form a picture.

his dad: graziano rossi. former racer (his peak was finishing third in the 250cc class the year vale was born) who had to retire after some scary injuries (crucial for maximum vale neuroses). in terms of their relationship, first go peruse this webweave from @kwisatzworld. actually i frankly think theyre a better person to answer this question wholesale but i digress. important to note that vale straight up is like yeah he was not a good father lol. ALSO notable that graziano is asked what kind of son vale is and says 'one i can brag about to friends' which. okay. graziano also will not shut the fuck UP about vale in print (he was kind of the one to break rosquez not really being close friends anymore post-assen? for some reason??) which idk if my dad was constantly talking about me to reporters i would feel weird about that. like that is not something that i would enjoy. seems a bit like they have the sort of relationship dozens of us divorced children have with our parents where we can kind of only talk to our dad about sports.

additionally, his parents had him quite young (25 for graziano and in the thick of his racing career, unsure for his mom) and you get a sense that vale thinks they should not have done that.... he doesnt super call them 'mom' or 'dad', instead using their first names, he says they have a more 'friendly' relationship than parental, and apparently his dad and him just started saying i love you to each regularly uh. recently. heres a video of him talking about it (i get the sense the divorce exacerbated these issues as well). that being said i DO also think that vale is closer with his mom in general (she lived in his house for a long time! they lived together during covid as well!) (his mom is named stefania palma and shes a civil engineer, which i think kind ties into how journalists often mention that luca and vale talk about the bike like theyre engineers. i literally dont think that is coincidence, i think they got it from their super hot and smart mom...) heres a bit about her and graziano (x):

theres also LUCA. who is obviously his half brother (he has a few other half siblings on graziano's side, but they arent famous so we dont know as much. i get the sense they arent as close just by virtue of their difference in involvement w racing but its hard to say! its clear hes close with luca, ESPECIALLY after the academy really got going and luca got a bit older.) luca is born in 1997 when vale is 18 years old and just kicking off his career, so hes kind of never known a world where vale wasnt insanely famous. luckily and ironically his father is a sports psychologist. luca's story kind of ties in with stefania's (obviously), and here's a post about how some of the stuff going on in their lives mightve effected them and of course vale. idk why this became a luca treatise but hes important okay!!!! just a family with a lot going on that informs vale's whole deal (having much younger siblings and liking to teach perhaps as a result, his marriage feelings, his REPRESSION issues, how he shows love, how he self-protects, and a lot more. idk this is hardly comprehensive but hopefully it gives a little food for thought !

#also can i just say vale's relationship with his parents underrated in the vale repression agenda. they dont say i love you!! they dont hug.#also like. looking at how young marc is and being like hm. thinking about his parents who got married too young #motogp #callie speaks #asks #valentino rossi #the divorce apparently maybe being BECAUSE of the injuries that lead to graziano's retirement....

64 notes · View notes

gem-de-lune · 1 day ago

Text

Adressing some things

1: Idk why some of yall are freaking out abt Taro saying an album is coming soon....they have a cb due around March-July, which we already know.....in music terms that is indeed soon. What is the issue? I am confused. This is why yall need to stop analyzing i fear

2: MULTIPLE people asked smthing along the lines if SM is "getting" to some members bc they've been quiet abt things (particularly Shotaro and Sungchan)....they have been quiet since day 1....nothing has changed. Those two have the best poker faces known to man, and we have already discussed that none of the members aside from Wonbin and Anton really have any animosity towards OT6. idk what yall are on abt 😭

3. I need thinking caps on...pronto. stop being weird bc every member is not blatantly showing they are OT7 at every public appearance, bc that was never gonna happen. It is not only unplanned opportunity that members sometimes slip it through on purpose, but it's literally something they get scolded for doing. The ones who choose to do so very often like Anton and Wonbin are regarded as less tolerable to management who is making these decisions. Let Sungchan and Shotaro do what they need to do away from cameras. There is no change in their mindset just bc they are not in your face or on weverse doing what you want them to do.

I want to believe this is pure anxiety. But for SOME of you, this is abt finding a way out and finding a reason to stop. If you are thinking abt stopping, and you really want to stop, accept the fact that you are not doing right by them and that you are allowing bullies and nasty people to win instead of coming in my asks so you can seek validation and comfort for your shitty choices.

This is not For EVERYONE who sent asks asking abt the member's intentions, there are a LOT of you who send the same general question and some of you just wanna ask ur question and go- and are NOT seeking validation but clarity.

And OTHERS of yall add-on that you want to be done and want to quit, or very obviously word your question that way. so if it does not apply, let it fly. This is for the quitters who don't wanna feel guilty for quitting.

This is why I had closed my asks for a time bc a lot of quitters were in there.

And Ik these quitters are people who do not be reading my daily reads at all bc they are repeatedly asking me things I have already stated in like...the most recent reading so I'm just confused on how you are going to come into the blog- not read ANY posts, and then ask your question to seek validation..... If I continue to get those asks seeking validation to quit, I will turn off Anon....

I love and appreciate you all SO SO SO MUCH 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

I just need SOME of yall to lock in fr bc it is stressing me out and YOU out for absolutely no mf reason.

I may have to take a longer break and focus just on efforts. I will update on that decision within an hour or so.

#astrology #kpop #tarot #riize is 7 #riize #riize is seven #smsupportsbullying

69 notes · View notes

silentscrying · 1 day ago

Text

🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track three: something about a beat

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, hopeless stupid pining, alcohol, mentions of deceased parent, maki is Fed Up, anxiety, unbearably cute dogs. || sfw. 9k words.

“OKAY, IT’S UP,” Nobara says, grinning at you over her laptop. You’re sprawled across the living room at Takuma’s place, surrounded by a random combination of your band and his while others are in classes. After spending last night mixing the single, Takuma helped Nobara set up an artist profile for the band, and now your music is available on streaming services. Just like that.

“That’s so weird,” you say, grinning as you pull up Spotify on your phone. Next Fix by Cursed Technique. Strange to see your face on there, a photo taken of all of you by some freshman when you last performed at The Fix. Nobara sends the link in your group chat, and Toge responds within seconds.

freak no. 1: FAME freak no. 1: FORTUNE freak no. 1: wait it’s not opening freak no. 1: nvm i’m just stupid

“Does he ever pay attention in class?” Nobara mutters. Maki snorts.

Yuta is also in class, but that means he’s locked in, all his devices on Do Not Disturb. You don’t think Toge’s turned DND on a single time in his life.

“I’m going to Kinji’s!” Kirara shouts from the front entryway, and Yuji leaps to his feet and disappears down the hall, barreling back out of his room seconds later.

“Wait! Can you give this to Panda while you’re there?” He hands her a drive, and Kirara rolls her eyes and takes it.

“You need to slow down every once in a while,” she says, ruffling Yuji’s hair. “Okay, bye. I’ll be back in a few hours.” The dogs follow her to the door and return the living room when she’s gone, curling up on either side of Megumi, who’s busy writing some paper in the corner.

“What was that?” Nobara asks.

“Demo drive for the radio station,” Takuma says. “Panda plays our stuff sometimes. I bet he’d play yours, too.”

“That’d be sick,” Nobara says approvingly. She turns to bother Megumi, poking at him until he takes his headphones off and talks to her, and Yuji strolls into the room and flops down directly on the floor.

“Comfy?” you ask, poking him with a socked foot.

“Mm. Yeah.”

“Ah, look what you did, Kugisaki,” Megumi says, and you look up to see Shiro trotting toward you with her tail wagging, having abandoned her post at her owner’s side.

“That was not my fault! You’re the one who moved.”

“Because you kept poking me!”

You immediately slide off the couch onto the floor, letting Shiro sit in your lap. “Um, excuse me,” Takuma says, offended. You crane your neck to look up at him behind you on the couch. His face is lit up by his computer as he works on a string of code he tried (and failed) to explain to you, and there’s laughter in his eyes despite the affronted tone of his voice.

“Favorite,” you inform him with a wide, cheeky smile. He very maturely sticks his tongue out at you.

“Toge message,” Nobara informs you all, reading off her phone. “He says omg we have four listeners do you think they’re writing slutty fanfiction about us already.” She glances at you. “Petition to remove him from the chat—oh, look, he started sending the wolf memes again.”

Hanging out like this has become natural so quickly you almost forget you haven’t been friends with Shibuya Incident for ages. You feel almost as much at home in the tapestry-covered living room here as you do in the plant-filled kitchen of your own house down the street.

Maki checks her watch, sighing. “We should get going soon. The guys will be back in half an hour.” Then you have rehearsal, even though you’re not one of the three bands performing tomorrow night. When you do take the stage next week, you want to be ready.

Nobara is trying to read Megumi’s texts over his shoulder, which isn’t working out well for her, and he tells Maki, “Yes, please, take your invasive little gremlin home.” He puts his hand right on Nobara’s face and pushes her away, and she screeches and tries to tackle him, but he’s already sitting in a beanbag chair in the corner, so it doesn’t really do much except make Kuro jump on top of them both.

You glance up at Takuma again, still stroking Shiro’s fur while the others start to stand, ready to head home. “You rehearsing today too?”

“I’d hope so,” he shrugs.

“Yes, dipshit, in two hours. If you ever read the group chat,” Megumi says.

Takuma doesn’t seem fazed by Megumi’s irritation and just shrugs. “We have a new song for tomorrow.”

“You didn’t tell me!” You poke at his knee in retribution for his secrecy. “I wanna hear it!”

“You will,” he says. “Tomorrow.”

“Skipper, help, I don’t wanna walk our gremlin home by myself,” Maki calls from the door, and you reluctantly pat Shiro on the head and stand. She follows you to the entryway and sniffs at you while you cram your feet into your sneakers.

“Maki Zenin.” Nobara turns up her nose and crosses her arms over her chest. “If you hated me so much, why didn’t you just say so?”

“Bye!” Yuji shouts from the living room, and you all call out varying goodbyes and noncommittal sounds before making your way out the door and down the block, the afternoon air chilly against your cheeks.

Nobara waits all of ten seconds before spinning around and walking backward, grinning at you mischievously. “I bet Ino wrote a song about you.”

“Oh my god. Shut up,” you laugh. “He didn’t.” You can’t imagine you’ve given him all that much to work with. What would he write, that you like coffee and drums and Megumi’s dogs?

“Why else wouldn’t he show you? Don’t you guys text each other song lyrics like the little romantic fucks you are?” Your face is flaming, and you’re suddenly very grateful for the cool of the wind against your skin. The idea of him writing a song about you plants something weird in your gut—not something bad, just something unexpected and warm and blooming.

You try not to show it and your friends see right through you, Nobara turning back to skip up the drive with a satisfied grin and Maki rolling her eyes at the both of you.

“I’m gonna write a song, too,” Nobara declares, unlocking the door and pushing her way inside. “Skipper and Ino, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S—”

This time, you and Maki speak in tandem. “Shut up!”

—

“There’s a joke here,” Gojo says, tapping both of his index fingers together while he thinks. “About being a drummer and a journalist. Something about a beat.”

You laugh, jotting another note on the lined paper of your small spiral notebook. “I hate to tell you, but I’ve heard that one before.”

You’re not sure features qualifies as a specific beat, more of a broad category, but your staff isn’t nearly large enough to assign people to smaller specialties. Plus, it’s a college publication, designed for experimentation and growth. Nobody wants to be boxed in yet. That’ll come later, out in the monotony of the real world, and you’ll be confined to some hyperspecific beat like neighborhood crime or high school basketball.

“No!” Gojo cries, dragging his hands down his face like it’s the end of the world. “I can’t believe somebody plagiarized me before I even said it.”

“That’s not how that works,” Utahime cuts in dryly, sliding three shots across the counter to the waiting group of sophomores and then effortlessly throwing together another cocktail.

Gojo leans toward you, shadowing out your notes, and stage-whispers, “You see what I have to put up with?”

You do, actually, see what Utahime has to put up with. She long ago put down a line of blue painter’s tape to divide her side of the bar from Gojo’s, and she preaches frequently that there will be dire consequences if he crosses it.

Of course, he crosses it at every opportunity, and here he is, still.

It’s also just how the two bartenders split up the work, the customers, and you write that down too, that it’s an effective division of labor. “Don’t read my notes,” you tell Gojo as he squints at your writing upside down. “It’ll wreck the journalistic integrity.” He sticks out his bottom lip in a pout that reminds you violently of Toge, who’s taking photos of Utahime as she works.

You glance over to the stage, where Angel is performing the last number of her set, a bouncy, belty song that you recognize from a video she posted earlier this week. The crowd loves it, dancing around and singing along, but still, you think she’ll have a tougher time making it through as the only solo artist remaining in the competition.

You whoop and cheer as she hits her last note, holding it for an ungodly amount of time, and Gojo eventually has to abandon his teasing to do his job. When Toge thinks he’s got enough photos, the two of you slip back into the crowd, Panda commentating on the change of artist as you catch up to your friends.

“And now, here’s your alt rock duo, your boys, the Kamos,” he says as you come to a stop beside Yuta. “Give it up!”

Nobara very loudly gives it up.

“Hi.” Yuta nudges you. “How’s the reporting going?”

“Good.” Noritoshi and Choso settle in on stage, tuning their guitar and bass and making girls swoon in the front row but somehow remaining entirely oblivious to it. “You’re not going home tomorrow, right?”

Yuta shakes his head. This weekend is fall break, which just means that there were no classes today. You spent the first day of your three-day weekend cramming for midterms.

Toge’s heading out after this and Nobara will leave early in the morning, but Maki and Yuta will be here for the weekend. You wonder about Takuma and his band, but you can’t ask right now—they’re all backstage, waiting to go on after the Kamos.

The boys in question, when they’re not doing covers, have incredibly nonsensical song names that have little to nothing to do with their lyrics. The first track of theirs you ever heard was called Song About the Time My Dog Got Lost for Three Hours.

“Okay,” Choso says after their cover of a song by The Smiths. “This one’s called Please Don’t Tell Your Mom I Was At Your House Past Curfew.”

He and Noritoshi then proceed to play the most upbeat, energizing alt rock shit you’ve ever heard. You love these guys, and the crowd does too, the way they don’t take themselves too seriously but they’re genuinely talented. But it’s making you nervous for Takuma and his band, because only one group goes on tonight. Only one.

No, you think, shrugging it off. They got this.

When Shibuya Incident finally walks on stage, the ensuing roar of applause before they even do anything eases whatever worries you might have had. They were slotted at the end of tonight’s set for a reason. Everyone loves them.

Without prelude, they launch into a song you recognize from their EP, a fast-paced track with a pretty simple chord progression that gets entirely flipped on its head in the bridge. You let Yuta spin you around as you dance with the rest of the crowd, the lights and sound washing over you. Yuji’s in his element, Kirara is fucking killing it, and Megumi—as always—is the rock the band stands on, unerring tempo and steady presence keeping everyone on track.

After the song finishes with a crazy riff from Kirara, and the crowd takes a minute to freak out and then slowly wind down, Takuma grabs the mic to address the audience.

“Hi again,” he says, scanning the clusters of people from his place on the low stage. His gaze lands on you and your friends, and he smiles a little wider. “That was Godspeed. We’re gonna slow it down a bit for our next song. It’s a new one. We’re calling it Curious.”

Nobara practically launches herself over Toge to get to you and shake you by the shoulders. “What did I say?” she hisses.

“Oh my god,” you say, shoving her off. “They haven’t even started yet.” But you look back at Takuma to find he hasn’t stopped looking at you.

To your surprise, the instrumentals don’t start first. Most of Shibuya Incident’s music opens with a riff or a fill or at least four bars of introduction. But this time, Takuma leans into the mic and starts singing, just a low “ooooh,” and the rest of the band comes in one by one—Megumi, then Kirara, then Yuji. Kirara’s harmonizing on a higher note, and the effect is a slow, dissonant build that makes you lock in, all anticipation.

Then Takuma tugs the mic from the stand and sings,“I see your eyes, curious, curious, you wanna know why the sky’s so goddamn blue. I hear your voice, curious, curious, you’re asking me if I’d ever fall for you.”

And as you listen, Nobara’s smile just gets wider and wider, and Takuma keeps making fleeting eye contact with you, and you realize abruptly that she was right.

This song is about you.

Takuma’s said it to you before, in passing, how he likes the way you look at the world—through a journalist’s lens, curious about how everything works, always searching for unseen answers.

“Wish I could see my life like you do,” he and Kirara sing in unison. “Wish I could walk the streets each night… wonderin’ if the full moon sees you, but I just keep lookin’, lookin’ down at the time.”

You’re transfixed, just like the first night you saw Takuma perform live, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the stage if you tried. Someone should write a story about him, you think. This man could be on the cover of Rolling Stone and you wouldn’t question it.

God, you’re so far gone, aren’t you?

When the set is over, the last song finishing with a long, drawn-out chord, Takuma thanks the crowd and hands the mic off to Panda to take over. As the band disappears one by one into the backstage area, he lays out the voting process.

“The voting period will last ten minutes, assuming no technical difficulties,” he says. “QR codes, as usual, are posted around the bar. If you’re a competitor, you can’t vote. Make sure you’re logged into your .edu accounts or you won’t be able to access the form…”

Your fingers are tapping nervously at your thighs, the crowd around you already glued to their phone screens. The band isn’t back out on the floor yet—Panda will call all three artists up at the end of the voting period and announce the finalist live.

Sweat is starting to pool in the palms of your clammy hands, and you wipe it on your jeans, anxious. To you, there’s no question. But it’s not up to you.

“Relax,” Yuta says, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “It won’t even be close, Skip.”

After the longest ten minutes of your life, Hana Kurusu, the Kamos, and Shibuya Incident join Panda back on stage, a dramatic spotlight bouncing between each artist as Panda draws out the announcement. “And the artist from tonight moving on to the finals in two weeks is…”

“Just say it,” Maki huffs beside you, and Yuta chuckles and nudges her with a shoulder. She tries to hide the slight upturn of her lips, but that’s not going to slide past you.

You’ll tease her later. For now—

“Shibuya Incident!”

The reaction is explosive, both on the floor and the stage. Yuji practically leaps onto Kirara’s back, and Takuma’s face goes slack in surprise before a shy smile works its way across his spotlit features, Megumi being his nonchalant, unaffected self in the midst of it all. Nobara is screaming, and you’re yelling at the top of your lungs, Toge whooping and snapping photos as the Kamos and Hana crowd the band, congratulating them on the victory.

Takuma looks out into the crowd again and you wave, smiling unabashedly, so fucking proud and excited and thinking maybe, maybe, if you make it too, you’ll be facing off against each other, and wouldn’t that be something?

Maybe you shouldn’t be so thrilled. He’s the competition, after all.

But if he wins for going up there and singing curious, curious with his eyes locked on yours, you suppose it wouldn’t be all that bad.

—

Most of Saturday passes in a barrage of classwork and inconsistent, snacky meals in between, the diet of a harried college student, ramen and chips and whatever actual food Yuta leaves for you in the fridge. He’s back from work by three, and Maki wraps up her own work around the same time you do, late afternoon creeping into evening. The three of you are curled up in the living room, the TV on while Yuta and Maki try to pretend they’re not looking at each other.

You need to get them alone.

you: are you busy takuma: not at all takuma: what’s up? you: mind if i crash your house?

You glance up and swear Yuta has somehow, in the last two seconds, moved closer to Maki on the couch.

you: i think yuta and maki need some ~ALONE TIME~ takuma: TEA takuma: sorry kirara told me to stop saying that in response to everything that happens ever takuma: it’s fun tho

“I’m going to Takuma’s,” you announce, and Maki raises a brow at you.

“Again?”

“Sue me for having friends.”

Yuta’s brows crease a bit at the word friends, but he doesn’t comment. With a furtive glance back, you grab your shoes and slip out the door, successfully leaving Maki and Yuta alone in the house for an indeterminate amount of time.

Please, you think. One of them has to make a fucking move soon.

Takuma answers the door before you can knock. “Hey.”

“No pups today?” you ask as you step past him into the entryway, kicking off your shoes.

“Sadly,” Takuma says. “Fushiguro took ‘em with him, wherever he went. Ah, man. Did you only come over for them?” His tone is teasing as he closes the front door behind you, trading the October cold for the warmth of the house. “Afraid I’m a letdown.”

“Takuma,” you scold at his self-deprecation. “You’re basically an excited puppy yourself, so—”

“Hey!” he squawks, and then thinks about it and tilts his head, conceding. “Fine. Maybe. Yeah, okay.”

“What have you been up to?” you ask as the two of you make your way to the living room.

“Procrastination. Guitar instead of homework, mostly. You?”

“Same,” you sigh. “Well, not the guitar part. But I should have been way further ahead on my homework by now.” You shrug. You’ll get it done; you always do.

You settle in easily on the couch, and the two of you boot up the Wii and play a few rounds of Mario Kart because someone left the disc in. And when you’ve both beaten each other enough times to lose count, Takuma mentions something about your single and you realize you haven’t checked the stats.

“You can see more on a computer,” he says, and you follow him up to his room, where he cedes control of the device to you. You pull up the artist profile and grin at the steady upward climb of listeners. It’s not a ton, but this only went up on Thursday.

“We haven’t even done anything to promote this,” you admit, spinning in Takuma’s desk chair to face him. “I don’t even know how people are finding it.”

He immediately looks down, which means he knows something. You nudge him with your foot. “What? What does that face mean? Takuma.”

“I maybe gave Panda a drive of the mix,” he shrugs, talking fast like the meaning of the words might elude you if he mumbles enough. “And he maybe played it at the radio station earlier today. Several times.”

A wave of affection crashes into you so fast that you jump up and throw your arms around him without thinking, laughing into his shoulder. “You didn’t have to do that!” You pull back, grinning. “That was really sweet. Thank you. Seriously.”

“Ah, it was nothin’.” He reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck, a gesture you’ve come to recognize as self-conscious.

“Not nothing,” you say softly. He smiles.

After a moment, he glances at the window and seems to come to a decision. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey yourself.”

“Wanna go out on the roof?”

You blink, processing the words, instinctively looking to his window. You’ve never really realized it before, but it opens out onto a flat expanse of shingles, a perfect lookout right outside Takuma’s bedroom.

Your grin is answer enough, and he unlatches the window and pulls it open. He glances back at you, up and down, and you feel yourself blush before you realize he’s taking in what you’re wearing. He grabs a thick jacket from the closet and tosses it to you, then shrugs one on himself and leads the way, gripping the window frame with one hand and pulling himself outside. After a moment of consideration, he reaches back in and grabs his acoustic guitar by the neck from its place against the wall, pulling it out with him.

When the window shuts behind you, you’re immediately grateful for the protection of the extra layer. Even with your hands balled in the sleeves of your hoodie, it’s chilly out here.

You’re surprised by how much of the campus you can see spread out in the distance. It’s early evening, but the days are getting shorter, the sun a misleading blaze of heat in the otherwise cold hour.

“This,” you say, “is fucking awesome.”

“Right? I called dibs on the room as soon as we toured. For this.” He grins, leaning back on his palms, legs spread out in front of him. You lie back on the roof, letting the cool surface seep through your hood, staring up at the sky.

“So Maki and Yuta,” he says, shaking his head fondly. “Are they finally a thing?”

“I don’t know, but if they’re gonna do anything about it, it’s not gonna be while anyone else is home.” You shrug, or at least do whatever approximation of shrugging you can when you’re bundled in a bulky hoodie and jacket and lying on a roof.

Honestly, Yuta and Maki are some of your favorite people on this planet, and you can’t imagine anyone else who really deserves them. They’re the de facto mom and dad of your group—as in, Yuta is the band mom and Maki’s the gruff father who won’t admit his affection for the pet he didn’t want to get but ended up loving anyway.

“Man, I’m glad I wasn’t around when Kirara and Hakari were in their pining phase,” Takuma chuckles. He pulls his legs in, sitting cross-legged, and picks up the guitar, idly tuning it as he speaks. “Then there’s Itadori, probably picks up girls everywhere he goes and has never once realized it.”

“What about Megumi?” You let your head loll to the side, looking at Takuma with the guitar settled in his lap.

“Fushiguro? I don’t know, man, he doesn’t tell us anything. He has like, resting yearning face. I’ve got no idea. I don’t even know where he is right now, just that he’s supposed to be back really late.”

“That means the dogs will be back?” you say hopefully.

Takuma shakes his head, strumming another chord, and another, fingers moving deftly across the frets. “I’m not enough for you, huh?”

“I said no such thing.”

He plucks out a happy little melody on the guitar, looking at you. “Wanna learn?”

You sit up, your hood falling back off your head in the process. “Really?”

In answer, he hands you the guitar, scooting closer to you to show you where to place your fingers. You’ve been around your bandmates enough to know the basics, but you let him teach you anyway, giggling a little when he guides you through a three-chord progression and says, “Damn, you’re a natural.”

He leans back and stares at the sky, listening to you play. Eventually you add a few other basic chords into the mix, varying your strumming patterns, already feeling the strain in your fingertips from the unfamiliar press of the strings.

“So,” you say, still idly messing around on a G chord. Takuma props himself up on his elbows, looking over at you. “What was the incident in Shibuya? Have you been to Shibuya?”

He snorts. “Nope. Honestly, it was more to make people ask the question. You know in the Marvel movies, how Hawkeye and Black Widow are always talking about Budapest?”

“And nobody knows what the hell happened there,” you say, laughing. “Ah. I see.”

“I’ve never even been to Japan,” Takuma admits. “Fushiguro has, though. Maybe he had an incident in Shibuya. Who knows?”

G, C, D. D, C, G. You play the chords over and over, strumming softly, slowly, letting your finger catch on each of the strings, then five of them, then four.

“This is a really nice guitar.”

“Yeah.” There’s a beat of silence that makes you glance up, weighted differently than the usual pauses in conversation. Takuma is sitting up now, knees pulled loosely to his chest. “Was my dad’s.”

“He taught you to play,” you remember aloud, recalling your conversation in the coffee shop. But now you’re hung up on that word: was. Part of you doesn’t want to ask, but part of you feels like his words are a sort of quiet invitation, like he wants to tell you, but doesn’t want to force it. “I… is he…?”

“He died when I was twelve,” Takuma admits, eyes fixed on the sky. “Uh, car accident. It was stupid, some issue with the other guy’s car. Couldn’t stop it.” You’ve never heard his voice like this before, taut, oddly thin. Carefully, gently, you set the guitar on the roof beside you, watching him.

“Were you…”

“In the car?” Takuma sniffs. “Ah. Yeah.”

“Oh,” you breathe, and that’s what it is, more of a breath than a word. “I—Takuma…”

When he laughs, there’s no humor in it. It’s a hollow kind of chuckle, one that says everything he can’t. “It’s why I learned to skate, actually,” he says quietly, not meeting your eyes. “I’d get everywhere that way. I didn’t—want to drive, I guess. Got my license late and everything. I think people thought I was just a slacker.”

Whatever words you might scrounge up feel inadequate for a grief this large. You don’t want to pity him, and you don’t want to dismiss him, and that’s always the problem with hard conversations, isn’t it? What a line to walk.

“You’re not a slacker,” you say eventually, and he raises a brow at you. “I mean, maybe you procrastinate coding projects to a worrying extent, but you always get it done.” You smile thinly. “You don’t give up in any way that matters, Takuma. I like that about you.”

He chuckles. “Nanami said something like that, once.” His eyes go far-away again, just for a second. “He’s kind of the closest thing… like… I don’t know. I’ve known Nanami for a really long time. He was my dad’s friend. And I guess he sort of became a father figure, after…”

He shrugs. “It’s probably a big part of why I decided to go here. That, and it’s not too far from my mom’s. I don’t know that she’d have been thrilled if I went somewhere farther.”

“You’re not home,” you say carefully, a question but not question. “For break?”

“She’s on a business trip,” he says. “So not much point. But I’ll see her at Christmas, at least.”

For a while the silence stretches out comfortably between you, like a weighted blanket. You can’t ignore it, but it isn’t unwelcome. At some point you scooted closer to him, and now you sit side by side, only the layers of your jackets separating you.

“Thank you for telling me,” you say eventually, soft, unwilling to break the quiet. He nods.

“You didn’t go home either,” he points out, an unspoken question in the spaces between words. “Is it just ‘cause you’re from so far away, or…”

“Yeah. A Friday off didn’t feel like enough of a break to warrant a flight back.” But that’s not all of it. His silence tells you he knows it, too. He’s been so candid with you all night. You can share this part of yourself, you decide.

There’s something about Takuma, anyway, that makes you want to tell him things. You want to know him, and you want him to know you—you now, here, at school, but also you there, home, in the past.

“I haven’t been home since July,” you admit, hugging your knees to your chest, mirroring him. “My town is… small. I liked it when I was little. But the older I got the more I started to feel, just—I don’t know, stifled?”

Your hometown used to feel huge, like you could explore it forever on your Razor scooter and never find all its secrets. But you grew, and the town didn’t grow with you, and suddenly you were standing outside your high school realizing you knew every corner of the self-proclaimed suburban city, every street and coffee shop and alley. You’ve always been curious. And at some point, there wasn’t anything left in that place for you to be curious about.

“I love my home. I love my parents. It’s just… I needed to get out. I don’t think they ever really understood that.”

It’s easier to admit things when you’re looking straight ahead like this, out over the lines and curves of buildings, picking out street lamps, watching a few stray cars make their way around slow corners.

“Is it what you wanted it to be?” he asks quietly. “Here, I mean.” He nods out to the vast stretch of campus, spread across the city. So many corners you’ve been here years and haven’t found them all.

Campus is weird on break, you muse, looking out over the darkness. A whole parallel world for you to explore, the shadowed version of the place. A video game map on single-player, a dead server. Hardly any lights on in the windows, no kids out on the street. Like a ghost town. But it still doesn’t feel empty to you. There’s so much promise in it.

“Yeah,” you answer after a moment, soft. “Yeah, I think it is.”

A ghost town that isn’t lonely, somehow. You could write a song about it, you think. Friends with all the dead in my ghost town. The phrase plays itself out in your head, and it sounds like something moodier than your band usually goes for. It sounds like Shibuya Incident.

You wonder if this is what it means to be in a relationship—not a romantic one, necessarily, but a friendship, or any kind of bond between two creative people. If it’s this, the sharing of intellectual property with another person to the extent that their voice and yours start to blend.

It’s in the way Nobara can finish your sentences when you’re throwing out potential verses, scrambling for rhymes. How Toge and Yuta can anticipate each other’s movements, match chord progressions without talking about them. How Maki slips into your tempo seamlessly, every single time.

And now your lyrics sound like something his band would play. Maybe Takuma’s songwriting will start sounding like yours, too.

You don’t think you’d mind.

“Can I tell you something?” Takuma murmurs after a moment, sounding hesitant.

You rest a cheek on your knees, hands clasped together in front of your shins, facing him. “Mhm.”

“That song last night,” he whispers, and he’s not looking at you, just staring out at the rapidly darkening campus. “It was about you. And how you—I don’t know, the way you look at things. Like they’re always so full of potential. I wish I could do that. You just see things and want to know more. I like… watching you, being curious.” He pauses for a beat and then quickly adds, “Not in like, a creepy way! Just—I don’t know.”

A chuckle slips through your lips against your will, the darkness hopefully hiding the color in your cheeks. Maybe you can blame it on the cold. “Watching?” you ask, teasing. “I can’t imagine I’m all that intriguing. There’s a lot of cool people around here, y’know.”

“Skip,” he murmurs, and now his eyes are locked on yours. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you.”

Every nerve in your body is hyperaware of his proximity, and his hand reaches up to cup your jaw, the touch ghosting over you, barely there, hesitant. A nonverbal question. Is this okay?

You lean into the warmth, letting his breath wash over you, mingling with your own in the space between your lips, smaller and smaller and smaller.

He’s watching you, closely, giving you a chance to pull away. So many words exchanged tonight, but you don’t need any for this.

You don’t pull away.

It’s slow at first, and soft, and hesitant. The shingles dig into the heel of your hand as you lean forward on one arm, a grainy feeling on your fingertips, in the grooved imprints left by the guitar strings. You find your free hand moving up to his shoulder, pushing, guiding him down until his back is pressed against the roof and you’re over him, lips locked with his. You look at him, and he’s so full of potential. You want to know everything about him, you want to know how he works, you want to ask questions. And you do, with your tongue along the seam of his lips, and your hand tangled in his hair, and his breath mixing with yours in the air. It’s near full dark now, feeling later than it really is, evening in autumn.

You’re not cold anymore.

He deepens the kiss, body coming up to meet yours, and you feel like maybe this roof is the top of the whole world, because how could you ever feel higher than this?

“Takuma,” you murmur, and you kiss him again, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this way before, but you’ll do maybe anything in the world to feel this way again.

And then a sharp, deep sound makes you jump, scrambling to sit up on the shingles, breathing heavy from the kiss and the noise. Did that come from inside or out?

“What—”

“Oh, crap,” Takuma groans, pulling open the window. “Someone’s home.” He looks back at you, cheeks flushed from the cold or the kiss or both, looking a little helpless, a little apologetic, and you can’t help the small laugh that bursts from you at the absurdity of the situation. You feel like a teenager getting caught by your parents.

“We should…” He nods toward the window. You hand him the guitar, then crawl back over to the window and slip inside after him, the warmth a stark relief from the temperature you’ve gotten so used to. Your heart is a jackhammer, rapidly pecking away at the once-stable structure of yourself.

You kissed him.

You kissed Takuma.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out with still-cold hands.

utah: [1 Image Attachment] utah: dinner?

Admittedly, the pasta does look amazing, and your stomach grumbles as if on cue.

“I should go,” you say awkwardly, holding up the phone for Takuma to see.

“Uh, yeah, uh—for sure, no problem, I should go see what’s up down there anyway,” he says after a beat of hesitation. “I’ll see you, uh…?”

“Around?” you finish, laughing slightly.

“Yeah,” he echoes with an amused half-smile as you make your way down the stairs. “Around.”

—

You’re freaking out.

It’s 4:31 on Monday afternoon, you’ve been listening to the same song on repeat for an hour, and you’re freaking the fuck out.

After Saturday night, you didn’t talk about it. You kissed him on the roof and your heart turned into a hummingbird and you were warm all over, and then the front door slammed and you nearly jumped out of your skin, and Megumi was back early and Takuma had no idea why, and you pet the dogs and then slipped out, wanting to give them their space.

And you haven’t talked about it. You haven’t had time. Sunday was a mess of cramming for midterms and your housemates returning from break and you threw yourself into your studies and tried not to remember, but now…

The stupid fucking switch in the back of your brain has flipped itself on and you can’t turn it off, all worry and criticism and hypothetical worst-case scenarios and you’re giving too much too fast, Skipper, you know better than this!

How many people in your tiny town fell in love young and grew to resent each other? How many of your high school friends grew up with divorced parents? How many breakups have you seen in your two and a half years at this university, how many tears and shouting matches in public halls, how many friend groups falling apart because two people fell in and out of love?

The thing is, you know you’re panicking about nothing. Takuma hasn’t asked anything of you. It was just a kiss. He is not your boyfriend. This is not a contract.

But if you talk about it, it could be, and you don’t understand why that scares you so much. Do you have commitment issues? What the fuck is your problem?

You probably wouldn’t have a problem at all, if you’d just had the time Saturday night to figure out what the kiss meant. But now that a whole day has passed and you haven’t seen him and you don’t know for sure, your mind keeps wandering down paths it should have stayed away from.

What if it’s a friends with benefits situation and you’ve just read too much into it? Maybe this is all he wants, making out, spending late nights together getting physical. Maybe that’s all. A heated makeout session on a roof doesn’t mean he feels the way you do. And do you even know how you feel? Fucking hell.

It’s the anxiety talking, the more logical part of you says, the part that sounds an awful lot like Maki. Your friends aren’t around to tell you how stupid you’re being, so the only texts you and Takuma have sent since Saturday night are playlists and song lyrics skirting around whatever truths you’re trying and failing to articulate.

Do I Wanna Know floats from the speaker on your desk, your phone next to your head on the bed, facedown and dormant. Do I wanna know if this feeling goes both ways?

Your door slams open and you jump up, whirling around to find Maki with her arms crossed, leaning on the frame. “Alright,” she says. “That’s the tenth time I’ve heard that godforsaken song. What the fuck is up with you?”

When you don’t respond, she steps inside and closes the door behind her, pauses the music, and then makes herself comfortable on the edge of your bed. “Talk to me,” she says. “You’re driving yourself crazy.” The words stall in your throat, useless, stagnant things as you avoid her knowing stare, instead staring at the popcorn ceiling until it blurs.

Maki sighs and shifts entirely onto the bed, turning herself to face you.

“I didn’t know you were home,” you say lamely.

“You’re driving me crazy, Skip,” she tries, and she knows you so fucking well, because the guilt trip is exactly what dislodges all those words built up in the back of your mouth—she breaks the dam and you spill your soul onto the quilted comforter, rambling, a rush of truths and things you thought you’d hidden from yourself but you can’t anymore. And she just listens, not looking away once.

You tell her everything: that you know you catch feelings fast, too fast. That despite your bleeding heart, you haven’t really been in a long-term relationship since high school. That you think of the future, of all the places you want to go, all the things you want to do, and there’s no guy in those dreams, and the thought of restructuring the life you’ve planned out for yourself around a boy who might be temporary is too much to even fathom. That—

“I kissed him,” you say breathlessly, bordering on hysterical, and you feel so stupid, this worked up over something so small, something that should be good. “I kissed him and now it feels real and now I’m freaking out.”

“I can see that,” Maki says calmly. “Let me ask you something. What is the worst thing that could happen, if you date him and it doesn’t last?”

“I…” You chew on your bottom lip, mind spinning through every bad outcome. “He could end up hating me, Maki. I could get some crazy job and have to leave, or he would come with me and leave his whole life behind and then he’d grow to resent me and we’d just be in some kind of hellish limbo until one of us snapped. Or he could—he could leave me, or we could try long distance and he could fall in love with somebody else, or I could, or—or—”

You flounder for a second, realizing your biggest worry is the one most immediate, the one most central to your life as it exists right now.

You’ve been sitting here thinking about big-picture things that are so far out, trying to make the feeling curdling in your gut feel like a valid reaction to a major life event. But that’s not what this is.

You’re just really, stupidly, pathetically scared that Takuma kissed you and didn’t mean it.

“Or—I guess that’s not the issue. Not really,” you admit quietly, not looking at Maki. She probably already knows. She has a way of knowing exactly what’s bothering you and just asking the right questions, getting you to talk yourself out of whatever hole your anxious mind has dug.

“I—it was just a kiss. What if he doesn’t want something serious right now, and I like him this way and he just wants something casual? I can’t do casual, Maki,” you say, raking a hand through your hair. “And it could fuck up this thing we have going. Yuji and Toge get along so well, and Nobara and the boys and Kirara, and Megumi’s your cousin, and I don’t wanna cause some weird, awkward rift, you know what I mean?”

Because it’s been so good, getting to know them. You don’t want to fuck up the dynamic just because you caught feelings too fast.

Maki leans back against your wall, humming as she thinks this over. “Okay. First of all, take a step back. Do you actually think you and Ino dating or not dating or whatever would mean I stop talking to my cousin? Or Nobara to the guys?” She raises a brow at you, unimpressed. “Seriously. I love you, Skipper, but you do not have that much power. These relationships existed before you knew Ino. Yuji is incapable of having conflict with anybody. And Toge doesn’t give a fuck about awkward relationship drama, he just wants to play Smash.”

As she speaks, you can feel your heart settling back into its home in your chest. Maki always knows what to say. Always.

“Second: Let me put it this way.” She levels you with a serious look. “You are so worked up about all these incredibly hypothetical situations. If you shut this down now, if you don’t act on what happened on Saturday, you’re still going to be worked up about hypotheticals. They’ll just be different ones. I know you, Skipper, you’re gonna drown yourself in what ifs. So you have to pick the lesser evil. There’s an unknown factor either way. Which one is gonna be worse?”

You groan, faceplanting into your bedspread. In the process, your forehead must hit play on your phone, because all of a sudden Arctic Monkeys blasts through the JBL again and Maki is grabbing your phone and saying, “Absolutely not. Nope. We are done with that.”

You look up at her helplessly. “Do I wanna know?” you choke out, half-laughing. “Because if I’m taking this out of proportion, if he doesn’t feel this way and I’m just another girl he kissed—”

“You’re not,” she says firmly. “Are you kidding me? Skip. That boy kisses the ground you walk on.” She shakes her head, some mix of fondness of exasperation flashing across her face. “You already know. The question isn’t if he likes you, or if you like him. It’s whether you’re gonna let it play out or shut it down before it has a chance to.”

Your door slams open, and Nobara strolls in and puts her hands on her hips. She glares at Maki and then at you.

“Please tell me I’m wrong,” she says, and you know you’re in for it, “but I believe you both had significant relationship developments this weekend and didn’t immediately call me? What the fuck? Spill.”

Abruptly, you feel like the worst friend in the world. Not necessarily because you haven’t filled Nobara in—she hasn’t been home—but because Maki is flushing pink, and you left her alone with Yuta on purpose, and it’s Monday, and you haven’t even asked what happened.

You look at Nobara. “Close the door.”

She does, but she doesn’t sit down, choosing instead to pace the room as she speaks. “Exhibit A: the plants have name tags and the handwriting is not Yuta’s. Exhibit B: I just came from down the street and Ino is acting weird as fuck.”

You sit straight up, suddenly on high alert. “Weird how? Did he say anything?”

“No. Like, the entire time. That’s the weird as fuck part.”

You turn to Maki, trying to read her. “Okay, what happened with Yuta? Was it when I left? Because if I wasn’t obvious enough—“

“You were very obvious, thank you,” Maki says, her blush deepening. “Uh, we made dinner. As you know.”

“It was good.”

Maki is pointedly looking everywhere but at you and Nobara, gaze darting from the ceiling to the bedspread to the door, as if she might escape the conversation. You hadn’t even noticed the plant name tags. That’s maybe the most sappy gesture that’s ever come from Maki Zenin.

“Mm. Yeah. Uh,” she says, eloquently. “We might have kissed. We might be… together.”

“Maki!” you and Nobara both scream, which results in Toge nearly breaking down your bedroom door five seconds later.

“What?” he demands. He clocks Maki’s bright red face and grins widely. “Aha! Yes. Good.”

“Wh—”

“Yuta won’t look me in the eyes, so I figured. You wanted to tell us all at once?”

Maki nods sheepishly.

“Too late!” Toge says cheerfully. “And he’s not home. So we can take this quality girls’ time to—”

“You are a man.”

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said that to me,” Toge tells Nobara, hand over his heart.

She swats at him in response and flops onto your floor, and Toge drops down beside her, you and Maki leaning over the edge of your bed to see them both.

"I ate your love pasta," you tell Maki, and she groans.

"This is why I don't tell you people things."

After the appropriate appoint of freaking out about Maki and Yuta (of course I knew, I always know, Nobara says), they make you go through the whole of Saturday night in detail.

You leave out the part about Takuma’s dad. That doesn’t feel like your story to tell.

When you get to I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, Nobara blinks at you, and the innocent expression on her face means whatever she’s about to say is anything but. “So he told you you’re not like other girls?”

“Oh my god,” you groan, dragging your hands down your face.

“Oh, shit, Skipper!” Toge nearly shouts from the floor. “We have to go, like, two minutes ago.”

“Shit!” You scramble off the bed, shoving your laptop into your bag and weaving around Nobara, who has made no move to get off the floor. You and Toge have your usual Monday night class time to do field reporting, and you’re meeting up with Geto and Utahime.

The front door clicks open and closed, and you grin at Maki, who goes red. Yuta’s home. God, you wish you could stay for this.

“Hi, Yuta! Bye, Yuta!” you call on the way out the door, patting him on the head, and Toge follows suit with a much more aggressive motion that messes up Yuta’s hair.

“Oh, hi! Um. Bye?” Yuta’s startled laugh follows you out the door, and then you’re on your way.

You’re always on your way back to The Fix, eventually.

—

Utahime, notably a happier person in general when Gojo’s not around, lets Toge into the back to get some photos of the storeroom. That leaves you alone with Geto, back on the same stool as last time, phone on the counter as you watch him work, talking as he goes.

“Finished inventory,” he says, typing something rapidly on his laptop, “and now it’s budgeting. And yeah, that’s about what it looks like on the day to day. What else did you want to know?”

Geto is remarkably easy to talk to. He’s soft-spoken and articulate, a good listener, and you find yourself forgetting it’s an interview after a while, lost in conversation. You learn that he studied business in school, so opening an establishment like this wasn’t much of a stretch. He handles the finances and hiring, and he’s the one working with Panda on the Battle of the Bands. Gojo and Utahime bartend, Nanami is security, and Shoko handles everything else. It’s a small team, he says, but they work.

“I wanted to be able to be home for the girls when they were growing up, and this wound up being a great way to do that, schedule-wise,” he tells you. “And now they’re here, which is great. I wouldn’t say I ever saw myself opening a bar, back in college, but now that I’m here and Shoko and I have been running the place for a while, I’m not sure where else I ever could’ve ended up, y’know?”

You nod, head propped in your hand with your elbow on the counter. “So is this the dream? The endgame?” you ask. “Think you’ll stay a while?”

“Well,” he says, closing the laptop, “I think it comes down to doing something because you love it, not because other people love that you do it. Though right now, both of those things are true, which is fortunate for me." He leans on the bar counter, head tilted as he considers his words.

"If the work makes you happy, if the people there make you feel the same way, I think that’s worth hanging on to," he says. "If I ever stop loving the work, I suppose I’ll move on. I don’t see that happening, really, but if it does, I’ll roll with it. Whatever comes after.”

“That makes sense.” You sigh, leaning back in your chair. “Man, I wish the career thing was that clear-cut now. I know I have time, but it’s weird to think about.”

“Would you ever go further than this with the band, you think?” he asks, seeming genuinely curious. “Or is the journalism thing pretty much what your heart’s set on?”

You’ve thought about it. Drumming makes you feel alive like very few other things do, but you love writing, reporting, meeting people and telling their stories. You want to go for editor-in-chief next year when Tsumiki graduates, but the reality is that you won’t have so much time for the band if you get the job. And you love your band.

Not that it’ll be the same, anyway, without Maki and Yuta. That’s something you don’t love to think about.

“I don’t know,” you confess, sheepishly realizing you’re still recording, that you’re supposed to be the one asking the questions. “I don’t think… that the band is ever necessarily going to be a professional thing. Maki and Yuta have all these big career plans. And it’s like, how much do I invest in that now, knowing it’s not… forever? When the journalism thing, the career, might be? I don’t know.”

“You know, I don’t think it matters all that much whether it’s forever,” Geto shrugs. “If it gave you what you needed at the time, wouldn’t it be worth it?”

He glances up at you, taking in the lines of your face, the tapping of your fingers against your other arm. You kind of feel like he sees something you don’t.

“Here’s some unsolicited advice, kid. On the record. Maybe life is short, maybe not. But regardless, your heart is not a finite thing.” His eyes are soft but not sad, serious but with a sort of levity that’s wise and not regretful. You think, idly, that you would find it very hard not to trust him. “If you’ve got something, love it while you have it.”

Something tells you he’s not talking about the band anymore. Or maybe that’s just you, looking for answers where there aren’t any.

“Thanks, Geto,” you say, turning off the recording. “This has been really helpful.”

Your heart is not a finite thing. And you think you’ve made up your mind.

directory | prev.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro @bisforbuse @risararelywrites @idkidk32 @gojodickbig @stargazing-with-choso @anonymity-222

a/n: what is this? setup for the megumi spinoff i'm writing after this? oo (sorry he was a cockblock it was for the plot, this one AND his, hehe)

54 notes · View notes