#at least this time they were all from the artist themselves (or the game company)

[neriyon]

5 Songs I'm Into Right Now

tagged by @zylphiacrowley , thanks!

It's gonna be tough picking only 5 songs haha, but I'll try to choose some from different artists/sources. Otherwise it'll just be 5 songs from a same game or something (￣▽￣)"

Eden - Deep Eclipse

Enstars song was to be expected - I would not be playing rhythm game after a year if I didn't like the songs. Picking one was really hard tho! Every group has at least one song I like.... Choosing between Majestic Magic, Artistic Partisan and this was so hard :/ Went with this since it's been stuck in my head for half a day lol.

CHANGGWI (Singyeo cover)

Okay I kinda debated between using this or Sailing but chose this since there's something I really like about how it's sung. I do not know enough music terms to actually say anything deep about it tho ^^' Anyway, SIngyeo has lots of other cool covers too so I recommend checking his channel out for more.

Zen Zen Zense (Mafumafu & Soraru cover)

"I'd begun searching for you many lives before you were even born"

Go watch Kimi no Na wa. No seriously, it's a good movie. And Zen Zen Zense is it's theme song that manages to make me still feel very fuzzy and wet eyed years later. Chose the Mafumafu and Soraru cover instead of the original RADWIMPS one because it has subtitles and I really like how their voices fit the song. For anyone wanting extra brainworms to work through: lyrics of this song would make for GREAT EmetWoL (or EmetHyth or any angsty ancient x shard) ship things :3c "Or maybe I should start the whole universe again from zero? (you can't prove this song was one of the reasons Firn came to be)

Bluish Light (Arknights)

Lumen's leitmotif! Nice and calm one, with some emotional singing and a pretty catchy chorus to hum along. Stultifera Navis event had bunch of good songs, not to mention all the other songs this company churns out. I was so close to picking Mizuki's leitmotif Y1K or CC#11 main theme.

Akatsuki Records - Idola Deus -The Creator-

Rearranged Touhou music, yay! Again, debated between picking this or KILLOVE FIREPROOF, but I've lately ben really into the lyrics on this one. Esp the chorus - "Go forth and create, oh earthborn children of Adam who pray" is just a really cool line haha. And the whole theme of a deity granting people imagination to create their future too!

As for tags uhhhhhhh.... @sunnythanalan @stalwart-spirit @arinaxiv @ffxivlilmeowmeow ?

As usual, no pressure to actually do it, if I tagged someone who already did it sowwy, if you want to do it but didn't get tagged feel free to commit tag game fraud and tag me on it. We ain't cops here and I'm not saying no to hearing some songs people like.

[moollypop]

indigo park theory: what ARE the mascots?

i've had many thoughts on this since chapter 1 came out, so this will be a long one.

TW for animal cruelty and abuse below.

first off. they are NOT animatronics. uniquegeese has explicitly said that himself on streams, and this is added on by the fact that mollie literally gets decapitated and dies, blood spurting out of her disembodied head. lloyd and mollie also just, generally look a lot more like living, breathing creatures than just some mascot suits or robots with their fur, feathers. as well as being able to blink and emote.

so that begs the question: how do these exist, if they aren't just robots and are in fact flesh and blood? well... judging by some of the context clues we've gotten so far, i think i can make a guess:

Indigo Park created the mascots through animal experimentation and genetic remodelling.

first off, the mascots themselves. at least, in the state they appear in. they are far more reminiscent of wild, feral animals than killer animatronics or toys or what-not from most other mascot horror games. lloyd in particular stands out in this.

when we first find him, he's all curled up asleep on the theatre stage. again, another point to these being living breathing things if they require sleep. only to then run off on all fours as soon as he wakes up and notices ed, then proceeds to stalk them within the backstage. keeping to the shadows and retreating when he's spotted or isn't in position to properly attack, again, like a real lion stalking its prey until it's within striking distance.

lloyd DOES walk on two feet properly, though. primarily when he trots away after first being sighted in the backstage, and later after ed grabs the key, lloyd does physically walk around even though it isn't visible to the player and he despawns after they leave the room with the key until it's time to do the jumpscare.

(credit to horrorscoped's "what indigo park hides in rambley's railroad and theater areas" video for the screenshots)

second, and what i think is most important to answering this question: mollie macaw. it's established in her death screen that she can mimic things that she's heard, including voices, which macaws in real life can also do. and while it's hard to hear them during her chase sequence, she has SEVERAL voice lines that play. most of them are taken from the rambley's railroad ride from earlier in the chapter, but there are several others that seem to be taken from employees or guests before the park's closure. i'll link a video to them here, but the lines i'm referring to in particular are:

"Stay in your seat!"

"I wanna play with the birdie!"

"Don't touch that thing, son..."

"Get up, you stupid freak."

"Get back in your cage, bird."

"The customer is always right."

the two i'm focused on mainly are fourth and fifth ones, which are undoubtedly park employees. calling her a freak, telling her to back into HER cage... paints a very, very unpleasant picture of what's going on. one that is confirmed even more by an easter egg in rambley rush, where if you fall into the fourth pit while moving to the left, you can find a second mollie inside a cage.

verbally abused and caged up... like a mistreated animal.

so... why? why create these "mascots" instead of having employees dress up in costumes like other parks? they clearly intended to at one point, as they had at least produced a costume for rambley before the mascots entered the picture... simple, really. money.

if you were a business and wanted to maximize profits with little morals, why not try and turn animals into your company's characters for your theme park so you can avoid paying your employees a little extra for going around in costume? if companies are willing to replace writers and artists with AI, why not put in a little more effort to create something else to do that job for you instead of having to pay someone else to do it?

but, something happened. maybe one of the mascots finally had enough and attacked an employee or guest? who knows... whatever the case, the park was suddenly and quickly evacuated with the events being covered up.

and the mascots were left to rot. with no humans to supervise them and keep the instructions and training and company-mandated rules drilled into them, combined with the isolation and likely mental toll it took... they regressed. they slowly lost what made them "mascots" in all but appearance, and now? they're animals again. wild, feral animals. ones that don't see a random person as a guest to greet, but as a smaller, weaker animal. a prey.

and with so many years having passed, likely not having much in the way of food outside of any other wild animals that might happen to wander into the park... they're likely very hungry.

[interstyx]

The longer this workplace abuse situation goes on the less I'm inclined to believe it. At face value it's a very typical development for entertainment companies -- I presume at least some of you know about Telltale Games and Kindly Beast, just to name some -- but the more testimonies that come out the fishier this smells.

We know that there were some bad times during the production of Meta Runner but the given narrative of insanely quick artist turnout and crunch just isn't supported by the actual credits in MD + TADC pilot, which remain consistent and even expand throughout. If there's indeed crunch/a high turnout, it must've then stopped before MD began production or started after TADC's pilot aired, which does not line up with the narrative laid out by the testimonies at all; these suggest years of workplace toxicity and a kind of studio-wide culture change that could not have happened so quickly, all of it made weirder by Kevin Temmer's hiring (who I understand has been through industry abuse/crunch before).

To be clear -- I think Celeste's firing is a completely fucked situation, but that we'd be wiser to separate it from the AnimeAmerica testimonies. One's confirmed true by name + Glitch responded to it, the other's all uncharacteristically vague anonymous testimony.

That's my main sticking point; the testimonies themselves are very nebulous and I believe they only evolved in detail as skepticism began piling about them. This could very well be a whole buncha cope on my part but flowery language like the last testimony's "yet you [Kevin Lerdwichagul] sit on your broken throne" is very odd when it comes from an exposing of workplace abuse. It's the kind of thing you'd find in a breakup letter, not a years-later testimony is what I'm trying to say.

It's extra weird that the testimonies would be anonymous too -- Glitch isn't exactly an established player in the industry, so I don't see how blacklisting would be a concern [EDIT: though NDAs could be behind that], and by now you'd expected some ex-employee identities to have begun coming out instead of all of them being anonymous. A personal impression that could easily turn out wrong; all of the AnimeAmerica testimonies [which are themselves not verified sources, even if the person posting them is] read awfully similar to have come from different people with different trajectories, and it's definitely eyebrow-raising that they get crazier and more flowery with time.

In any case, if there's any truth to the narrative we'll see so in the credits to MD ep7. There'll be a lot of missing names compared to ep6's/TADC's, or they'll stay mostly the same.

[heliphantie]

"The Last Temptation of Homer", ep. 9(90) of S5 (December 9, 1993).

“The Last Temptation” is a curious and weird one, even by season 5 standards, by which relatively plausible scenarios with grain of suspension of disbelief, that can be attributed to exaggeration or artistic rendition, did made way for the scenarios ranging from surrealism to outright fantasy, but not ones taking place in full-on cartoon universe yet.

It puts, once again, one side of Simpsons couple into situation, in which he/she has to fight, well, temptation of extramarital affair, keeping in mind it was already established that neither one can consider brief fling without seeing it as immediate threat to integrity of their union. It seems to be the case this time too – will Homer succumb to forbidden fruit of “office romance” or not is one obvious issue, but what raises the stake is a notion that maybe, it’s something much more – genuine soulmate met by chance, and in this case, one may think, whether Homer stays away from cheating or not, he’s going to suffer loss. Will he face his fate or reject it in the name of status quo? Anyway, the story is busy with bizarre gags and situations (and Bart’s subplot that asks for its own episode), just to end in sorta anticlimactic, and confusing for many, manner, brushed off all gloomy implications of tragedy our star-crossed lovers are going through.

Doesn’t help that while Homer’s mindset on extramarital affairs (or simply on notion of any other women by his side) is already explained in “Colonel Homer”, Mindy’s side is left cryptic, except overall impression that she enjoyed Homer’s company a lot and was at least at one point attracted to him, but since then either gave up on prospects with him (getting informed of his family status, probably?), or decided she and Homer are better off as friends, possibly not even being aware of mutual interest. Or maybe she is as much in pain as himself, up to very end, in which she vanishes without trace, visibly heartbroken. Isn’t it weird Mindy, out of all one-time mysterious figures who did enter Simpsons’ lives to show them new perspective or teach something about themselves (Jacques, Karl, Mr. Bergstrom, Lurleen…), doesn’t have on-screen departure or explanation of why she can’t stick around even as background figure? She does show up couple of times (once in meta gag acknowledging all “homewreckers”), but it’s nothing compared to, say, continued sights of Jacques as stable part of Springfield. Likely non-canonic nod in clip show, disclosing her as another victim of Homer’s propensity of ruining lives, doesn’t help either… I only may assume, creative team had unspoken agreement it’s better not to bring up sore subject given how sympathetic both sides remain through all their inner turmoil, and that there wasn’t way around to have Mindy as recurrent background member without her serving as reminder of that bittersweet in its core storyline. (There is the fact, also, that writer of TLTOH, Frank Mula, is responsible for another saddest love story in Simpsons catalogue – “I Love Lisa”, and even that one ended on uplifting note.) Rather than thinking she did hit rock bottom over heartbreak, I’m going to assume she had to take responsibility for that room service at the SNPP’s expense, and that did cost her workplace (temporarily or permanently).

Two (tangential, maybe) outtakes from it:

-           We were robbed of interesting workspace dynamics, if only Mindy could stay as recurring character and join Homer, Carl, and Lenny’s antics on occasion, also serving as both voice of reason (woman as agent of order) and catalyzer of risky adventures, depending on situation;

-           Storyline would’ve been used as exploration of concept of friendship between opposite sexes, which, surprisingly, wasn’t a subject in The Simpsons during whole its run (granted, there was once episode in similar vein between Homer and his female neighbor, but seemingly too late in game and it didn’t have any impact as far as I concerned…).

Lastly, in regard of that ambiguous ending that makes people believe Homer has had one night stand with Mindy, while imagining Marge in her place (assumption which makes everything ever gloomier). My take on it: what if it is true… but in opposite way. Whole episode is chock-full, more than usual, with Homer’s fantasies, and in general depicts him in constant state of delirium to the point imagination blends into “reality” (already too fluid in this era of the series). What if Mindy, herself, was just a product of Homer’s wandering mind, his boredom and dissatisfaction, all that time?

[fantasycorrupted-a]

actually, screw it. plot twist, a lot of Fíann's life was a fabricated lie and that's not even her real name. or her real self.

At least not unless you believe that there are different versions of you and that timetravel is possible.

And Flyn Farrell had been, more or less, forced to adopt this belief as a part of her truth.

Not that it was entirely false, of course. Timetravel was possible. The little compass watch that had taken her to the pirate ages, the device that she - or rather Fíann - had found, was real. Fíann Foley wasn't. Flyn Farrell, yes, but not Fíann. Not entirely.

Driven by her year-old interest and experience in playing music and video games, Flyn applied for work as a music composer (and later writer and concept artist) at a video game company which, much later, turned out to have shady reputation. It would be the first time she'd put her studies to more serious use... and it was nothing like designing a board game, which had been what she had been doing for a living until then. Aside from the martial arts lessons.

She had worked at a few smaller companies like that before. Smaller teams, projects that were great yet did not become the next hot famous thing everyone was seeking - but the games were memorable, and the teams were happy with that. Sure, she did get almost uncannily focused and was sometimes so invested in her work that her life stayed on the back burner, but that was good. It meant she liked her job and cared about it. Right?

"The truth is rarely pure and never simple". And that was not all of it. The plan to replace pre-existing supernatural beings with fake ones - as well as some humans who were being too loud and uncomfortable for the government to deal with - had been in motion for a few years by the time Flyn had been collecting experience at work (and not just in Ireland, too, but, slowly, across the whole world). She had gone through life with just the occasional swim, as a mermaid, and she had put most (but not all) of her suspicions to sleep. She was one of the merfolk that slipped through. And not only because there were few who could break her curse of immortality, if it was a curse at all.

Merrick Murchadh was real, as well as their relationship, their friends (some of which would later take his ex-girlfriend's side, and some would stay), and Flyn's mental illnesses. Unfortunately, that part was very much real. Granted, Merrick was under a different name from the one he had in Flyn's game - naturally, much like Flyn herself... and with a far more reputable occupation than lying about spending his rich parents' money (his father was a businessesman, though he had made Merrick follow a path similar to Flyn's) - but he was real, just like Flyn and her friends themselves, and just as insane as he had been in Flyn's game. His company was one of the biggest competitors to the one Flyn worked at, and, claiming falsely that she and her colleagues had stolen an idea originally theirs, Merrick was motivated to bring her down.

In Flyn's game, „Merrick“’s character ended up dead if the players chose the supposedly "better" ending between the two. In real life - similar to the worse ending - he was alive, and alive at a time when VR was being taken to a new level. Some video games and their results now affected real life as well; two such games were one Flyn had been inspired by and the one she had been working on, such a large portion of her game inspired by what her alternate self Fíann Foley had experienced that the lines between what was a part of real life and what was a part of the game were blurred. Aside from doing nothing of true importance, which he was scarily good at, Merrick was an assistant to the head of a company that sold artificial lives and experiences - holidays to places that could be far more expensive if actually experienced in real life, dates for people who thought themselves ugly and many other sorts of, well, fake realities - repackaged in the form of games, of course with some adventure and romance and whatnot sprinkled in, and what both of them were ultimately fighting for was to turn their projects into real, actual, enjoyable games.

That was, until the games bled into reality - until reality bled into the games.

[scotianostra]

On July 10th 1451 James III King of Scots was born in St Andrews, Fife, son of King James II and Mary of Gueldres.

A bit of a messy reign this one had, but not completely his fault. His father, James II, died when he was nine. This naturally guaranteed a power struggle between his guardians. For a while, a council ruled by his mother, Mary of Gueldres, and Bishop James Kennedy ruled, but they were also into playing games with the English. Civil war in the south allowed them to bargain back Berwick, thereby annoying Edward IV of England.

Then when he was 13 and both his mother and the bishop had died, James III was abducted by the brothers Boyd, one of whom, Sir Alexander Boyd, was Keeper of Edinburgh Castle and instructor in chivalric matters to the youth. James' reign finally began about 1469, after he married Margaret, daughter of Christian I of Denmark. One Boyd was executed, the other exiled.

The poor boy's troubles continued, with two adult brothers and their respective camp followers to hassle him. One died in his bath, in which he was being bled, at that time a supposed cure for various ailments. He was also in James' custody at that time, being accused of being involved with witches and warlocks. The other brother was Alexander, Duke of Albany, who was a right pain. He was also in custody for a while for the same reason as his brother, but escaped to France to continue his claims to the throne.

Trouble with England broke out again, over various border raids. Edward IV began to support Albany. James might have coped with all of this, but his nobles had other, less loyal plans. They were less than supportive for various reason, one major one being the company which James was keeping; artists, musicians, lower levels in other words than themselves.

Some of James' friends were lynched by the nobles, James was a prisoner in Edinburgh, and Albany moved into Edinburgh with his English friends. The wheeling and dealing began, ending with James being set free, and Albany regaining his lands, at least until James outplayed him and sent him back to exile. In England, Henry VII emerged the winner from their turmoils, and settled peaceably with James. Peace in Scotland however was bad news for the greedy graspers in the wild, wild, borders area, and trouble started all over again.

Eventually James III, with northern followers, met the Border lairds, led by his 15-year-old son James. At the battle of Sauchieburn, three miles south-west of Stirling, on 11th June 1488, the son emerged the victor. James III was found dead the next morning near Bannockburn, having escaped from the battle site. Dirty deeds had been done. The son, soon to be James IV, felt guilt all his life about the death of his father, wearing a metal chain round his body as penance.

[velise-queenofirony]

Hello everyone!

There were no posts for a long time, but in honor of the coming new year, I remembered a half-dead franchise that I hadn’t thought about for a long time. SWEET ELITE. This game is like a dead pet that I love too much to bury. I will not go into the history of this franchise, because if you are reading this post, then you probably at least roughly know what kind of drama happened. But from the most recent one: Sweet Elite author Serena sold the idea of a Dulcet game and left the company.

But I wanted to talk about something else. After replaying the first chapters, resurrecting my emotions, foaming how it all began and where it all came to, I need to share my thoughts. I want to say that I love Sweet Elite very much and this post is a cry from the heart of a fan who just wants the game that gave so many wonderful moments not to disappear abandoned and forgotten by everyone.

So here is my list of things to do in Dulcet Game (and I really hope it gets done):

1) Optimize the site. Because from the moment the site became multi-game, its performance has plummeted. I've always had good internet, and the fact that I have to wait more than a few minutes for a chapter to load is not okay. The idea of having a site that will have a lot of games where you can create those games is a great idea. But if this site is not working, then it makes no sense.

2) Revive the main franchise. Although I am biased in this matter, but no one will argue that Sweet Elite is the most famous and beloved story among players.  Accordingly, it must be revived so as not to lose the remaining fan base.

For this you need:

• Find a new author who already loves the story and is willing to take on a project already started. Because there will always be those who will say that it used to be better and that since Serena is not writing this, then this is not canon.

• This wish is more of a luxury than a necessity, but still. It is worth changing the main artist. If the Sweet Elite was one of many stories, or not the first, the current style could be the place to be. However, now, in a period of decline, the Sweet Elite needs to be the best version of themselves. More attractive and pleasing to the eye. Yes, these are additional costs. Yes, we will have to wait longer. But we are already waiting for a long time, and the Sweet Elite has already survived 3 redrawing. Will survive another one.

3) Launch at least ONE regularly released game. In fact, users of the Dulcet game platform do not have a single live and working game. This waiting sim game is just wasting people's time that they could have spent on stories. Written stories. Stories that do not postpone the main content for tomorrow.

4) This paragraph follows from the previous ones. The site needs to be updated with the latest information. For example, it is necessary to remove Black Tarot and Kortia from the site, as the authors have stopped working on these projects.

Finally, I want to wish good luck to Serena and at the same time express the hope that this whole story has not completely discouraged her from creating. And also to strongly ask Dulcet Games to do SOMETHING. Because you either move on or disappear into history. And I can only hope that this will not be the second option.

That's all. Thank you for your attention <3

[frostfall-matches]

[ matchmaking... ]

@justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms​ : [ match report ready ]

your match is…

✦ V / Kim Jihyun

As an artist himself, V is drawn towards creative types. It’s even better when he’s interacting with someone who works in an area that he typically doesn’t dabble in. He would absolutely be supportive of your desire to be a published author. If you were willing to let him read some of your pieces, finished or in progress, he would think of it as an honor. He’d be more than happy to provide feedback for you as well, if you want it! V may not be a writer himself, but he’s in-tune enough with art and creative processes and how different audiences may interpret something; he’d be a pretty good critic, and never harsh with his words. And if you’d rather not have a proper critique, but just hear about his favorite parts of whatever he’s read? That is no problem for him!

Once he got a good sense of your preferred genres and what books you already have in your collection, he would be the type to pick up books that seem to be your style. Not all the time - chances are you may already have a pretty significant collection - but here and there, if he sees one that catches his eye, or if you have a particularly worn-out copy of a book and you’ve expressed potentially picking up a replacement. You would also be his go-to for book recommendations. Sure, he could use the internet, but why not ask someone whose opinion he values? At first, he’d read just about anything you’d recommend to him, until he got a better sense of his preferences.

V loves how vibrant you are when you finally open up. He likes the contrast of the quiet, composed front you put on around strangers and the expressive, sarcastic side that blooms when you’re comfortable. It’s nice! The banter is always fun, and he likes your witty comments about bothersome situations. The first few times he got glimpses of your personality behind your shell, he was pleasantly surprised and he wanted to see much more of it. Similarly, he appreciates how good you are at conversation; it’s just so easy to talk to you. Conversation never feels forced with you, it flows well, and before he knows it he’s been casually chatting with you practically the whole evening as you two relaxed at home.

Your high sense of self-worth can be a very positive influence on V. He struggles with truly accepting himself and loving himself; he often feels like he doesn’t deserve much at all. It’ll still take some time, but having someone around him who he’s close to that values themselves - and also values him - will slowly make him reconsider how he views himself. And while some people may find self-deprecating jokes off-putting, it’s a good way to break the ice around him (as long as it doesn’t go too far - he’s likely to worry about you if you make them too frequently). It’s okay to not be perfect, and it’s important to learn how to laugh at yourself sometimes, and still find yourself worthy to exist and be loved. There’s a lot that V needs to unpack, and he’d deeply appreciate your presence and support.

On that note, there are so many things that V adores about you. At least according to your INFJ type, you’re idealistic, yet practical; passionate with enough of a plan to see your goals through; and while you can be hesitant to open up and be vulnerable around people, you still value having connections with people. These traits are just so warm and inspiring to V; honestly, they’re traits that he wants to emulate himself. Even if he feels like he can’t embody these traits to the extent he wants, he still enjoys being in the company of someone like that. He’d find a lot of comfort in you, and hopefully you’d find comfort in him, too.

He may not share your interest in video games and anime, but that’s okay - he likes seeing you enjoy yourself, and he’s more than willing to hear you out if you want to rant about or show him something. Go ahead and show him a particular scene from the anime you’re currently watching, maybe he’ll even get a little invested. If you’re playing games in one of your shared spaces, he may settle down beside you and watch for a while - even though he was originally just intending to read, scroll on his phone, or sketch. He can’t help it! You’re so focused (which is cute to him in and of itself), and he wants to see what’s gripping your attention like that.

your match is…

✦ Oikawa Tooru

The extravert that adopts the introvert - it always happens at some point or another. As busy and focused as Oikawa is, it takes quite a while before you guys are close enough to even consider yourselves friends. He’s also got enough pals and acquaintances that he’s not likely to befriend someone who is incredibly reclusive and reluctant to talk to him - and that is where your ability to carry on conversations despite your reserved nature comes into play. He can be pretty damn chatty, but he prefers speaking with someone who is also willing to be active in conversation. It won’t be long before he decides he likes you enough to continue pestering you.

Despite how frivolous he may seem, he’s quite intelligent and perceptive, which would likely land him points in your book. With your academic record and drive for literature, someone who is dull probably wouldn’t be very interesting to you. And, frankly, he pegs you for being a bit of a firecracker beneath that collected exterior of yours long before you start actually opening up to him. Oikawa is very reactive to your more expressive and sarcastic side! He’ll banter back and forth with you, and play up being upset and pouty if you make too many jabs at him - but you’re too nice, and he knows you’d never actually be mean to him.

The two of you deeply relate to each other when it comes to meeting the very high expectations you each set for yourselves. Even though your passions and goals may be different - him focusing on volleyball, and you focusing on writing and academics - the standards you hold yourselves to are similar. On top of that, it’s hard for both of you to be vulnerable enough to admit your perceived “failings” to someone and seek reassurance from them. Once you two figure this out about each other, it should be easier picking up when the other is frustrated about something, and the best way to provide comfort. If all else fails, at least you know that you have someone supporting you and rooting for you.

Related to this, Oikawa strongly prefers to be with someone who has a passion that they are determined to pursue. Because this makes up such a core part of his personality and motivations, he’d want to be with someone who is able to understand and relate to him. Besides, having a goal and the drive to work towards it is attractive. It doesn’t matter to him that your passion isn’t sports-related - he’ll support you nonetheless! He may not be a huge reader, but he wants to know about the literature you’re invested in, and the types of works you want to share with the world. He’d also be interested in learning about the logistics of it. All he really knows is volleyball - it’d be interesting to know what hurdles and hoops you have to jump through in order to get where you want to be.

When he has free time, he’d have fun playing games with you! He may occasionally sit and watch you play something that’s single-player, but he gets a bit restless and antsy. He’ll either find something for himself to do near you, or if you notice his pouting, you may be nice enough to switch to something that you can play together. This doesn’t happen often, as he’s busy with training and practice, but it’s a fun, interactive way to unwind when he needs to give his body a break. Oikawa picks up new games pretty quickly, too, so he’s likely to give you a run for your money if it’s something competitive.

Oikawa finds your varied taste in music amusing, yet endearing. Honestly, he seems the type to like anything with a good enough beat to move to, so he’s happy to listen to a lot of what you’re into. It’s a pretty good way of getting exposed to new music, too - he absolutely does not mind if you want to play music out loud while you two are spending time together. In fact, every few songs he might nudge you and ask you for the title and artist, so he can note it down and add it to one of his playlists.

[aspencalhoun]

FULL NAME: Aspen James Calhoun NICKNAME: AJ, only by those very close AGE: 33 DATE OF BIRTH: July 31st, 1990 PLACE OF BIRTH: HavenRidge GENDER IDENTIFICATION: Nonbinary, primarily identifies as They/Them, but not specifically opposed to he/him or she/her SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Pansexual RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single NEIGHBORHOOD: Downtown (and couch surfing siblings couches) OCCUPATION: Tattoo Artist WORKPLACE: Colorwave Tattoo POSITIVE TRAITS: Confident, enthusiastic, adventurous NEGATIVE TRAITS: Boisterous, impatient, impulsive LENGTH OF TIME IN HAVENRIDGE: Since birth, traveled some after high school but always returns FACE CLAIM: Nico Tortorella

headcanons

Aspen is a true adventurer at heart. They are always up for finding the next thrill in whatever form it may come; surfing, hiking, rock climbing, cliff diving...If you suggest it, Aspen will most likely be game for it.

They don't really like to be alone. They'd rather be in the company of anyone and everyone than sitting alone in their apartment at night. Thus, more often than not they can be found letting themselves in to their various siblings homes and crashing on their couches or entertaining their nieces and nephews - sometimes without express prior notice.

They are the biggest cheerleader and supporter of their siblings in everything and anything they choose to do and will be there in an instant if they need them, no questions asked.

Aspen has an adopted Australian shepherd dog named Ace and a white and gray cat named Blaze. Their family also care for a horse at the family ranch that Aspen had raised when they were younger, named Bandit, that they'll spend time with when visiting the ranch.

biography

trigger warnings; car accident mention, death mention

Aspen doesn't remember their biological parents. Not really, anyway. They only know what they've seen in pictures kept when they were a chubby cheeked newborn swaddled in a sweet looking couple's arms. In some cases, their adoptive parents make appearances in the photographs from their first two years alongside the bright eyed couple, grinning ear to ear. Excited for the new adventures that were to come for their closest friends.

That future never did come. In an instant the parents of the newly turned two year old were gone, lost to a drunk driver while out on a date night together. Aspen had been left at the home of family friends, the Calhouns, being entertained by the younger children and doting parents, knowing nothing about the fact that their parents wouldn't ever come home again.

For a while the Calhouns had simply continued to look after the child because there wasn't any other family for Aspen to go to. But when the time came, it seemed like a no-brainer for them to keep Aspen as one of their own. They already had become a part of the family in the first few years of their life and Josephine and Barrett couldn't stand to let them go.

They never knew a lack of love, despite the bump in the road. Aspen was accepted into the Calhoun family with open arms and never knew any different.

From a young age Aspen walked to the beat of their own drum. They didn't really fit into any specific category - they paved their own path. Even when they were still small they never really conformed to the typical male gender identifiers. When they started adopting they/them pronouns in their teenage years, at least to the family, no one was really that surprised.

Aspen was pretty average in school. They got by but never really excelled in any of the traditional subjects. It was the arts that really drew their attention. They had a special eye for drawing, sketching, and color using all forms of media. That talent eventually turned into an interest in tattooing. They started exploring tattoo parlors while traveling and getting an array of tattoos themselves in their late teens and early twenties, eventually signing on to apprentice at Colorwave Tattoo in HavenRidge.

In their off hours Aspen helps around the family businesses here and there.

[spellbook-gayboy]

20 with whoever you'd like :)

20.

"Y'know, there are a lot of situations that that phrase can be applied to, dear brother," Ian grumbled, "but one of the very few exceptions is the fact that you only managed to half-cut the rope that's still wrapped around the bloated corpse's neck."

"Okay, that's fair." Rex murmured in response. The corpse in question still dangled limply from its spot on the bare poplar tree, the thick yellow cord that served as a noose digging into swollen and purple flesh. A gentle wind set it in sway, the shiny white footwear attached to its feet occasionally clicking against each other. "Maybe we could find someone to help, or...?" The hero starts, his voice trailing into silence as something dawns upon him. His eyes, from behind the thick goggles, sweep the small backyard they find themselves in. "...where are we? Why are we doing this? This isn't a superhero thing, it's not even a 'Rex and Ian do crimes for fun' thing! Wha- why are we tryna cut down a body?! What the hell is going on?!"

Ian looks his brother over, recognising the expression that was currently stuck to his features. "Honestly, I'd ask the writer. Some of these prompts have been low-effort before, but this?" he declares, throwing his hands up in a display of useless frustration. "Thi-this is just a scene from Disco Elysium! Like a straight rip-off!"

"Disco... Elysium?" Rex questions. The specific combination of words rings empty in his mind, the two nouns sounding almost absurd next to one another. The gears within turn: could he be referring to some obscure police procedural from decades past, or a novel in his house's vast library? Perhaps something more current, like a film that just released in theatres, or even, God forbid, a trending topic on social media? Despite the absurdity, there is a pang of familiarity at the name, scratching at the edges of that pink wet sponge between his ears. He focuses, and focuses, until...

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Challenging: Success] - Disco Elysium is a video game, written and designed by the Estonian novelist Robert Kurvitz and a collective of fellow artists, musicians and creators, and is currently published by the games publishing company ZA/UM. It styles itself as a 'detective RPG', and features a distinctive painterly art direction, the brainchild of oil painter Aleksander Rostov. From what you've been able to recollect, there is also an apparent ongoing legal dispute between Kurvitz and shareholders of ZA/UM, and you have been advised several times to not the game legitimately, lest you contribute further to the practices of ZA/UM. The advice seems sound, and you already have the perfect method of pirating it on your games console. You will do it, once your curiosity tips you into morally justified piracy.

"Woah woah woah, stop that!"

I'm sorry?

"You! Yes, you! Listen here, Harry, putting us in a different setting is one thing, but subjecting my little brother to the game mechanics? Oh, you should be thanking your ancestors that I'm a fictional character, or I'd have ripped your fucking balls off by now!"

Okay, first of all, it's the new year, and I'm trying to spice up my writing a little. I'm sorry that being out of your comfort zone scares you, Ian, but you need to understand-

"I don't need to understand shit! Listen, Cape-Watch, the old man, everything up until now, completely fine! It's in-universe, so I don't have a problem with any of it! But this?! What's even the point? A funny reference? A fourth-wall break? Like, at least plan these out first!"

How am I supposed to plan these out? They're meant to be short little snippets where people can point and yell 'there's my little guy!' Nothing more than a little serotonin boost before the weekend. Were you expecting Shakespeare?

"Don't give me that! I've seen you write better than this, Harry! Don't you want to be... I don't know, a great writer? One of the greats of AO3, or whatever?"

Not really. Sometimes I write prose, and sometimes I write pigshit. At the end of the day, as long as I can still write, I'm happy. It's all words to me, Ian.

Ian sighs. He rubs exhaustedly at his brow, already tired of debating his creators' reasons for writing. "Fine, whatever makes you happy. Just take us home so I can wipe my own memory."

Rex was very confused by what he had just heard. "What the fuck."

[inavagrant-a]

How do you feel about the lack of color/skin tone representation in Sumeru?

Disheartening, discouraging, it sucks, distasteful, it's something I criticize. I am a brown latino, I am not from the part of the world Sumer u is taking inspiration from and I will never speak over those who are from there because they have a more rightful say than I do, but it irks me nevertheless.

As a person of color though I can say it makes me sad. We live in a time where people aren't open to learning, to having open discussions about these things without attacking one another. Fiction is fiction this is true but fiction comes from somewhere, it's inspired by something, by someone, by some place. It isn't born out of nothing, something inspired you to make this, to do it. And in a way, though obviously not many see it this way, respecting the inspiration that helped you come up with this fictional piece is a must. You have to show it proper respect especially if it's bringing you money, at least that's how I think, not many see it that way obviously. I adore the artists and the content creators who take it upon themselves to properly show the source of that inspiration the respect it deserves since so many lack that thought process.

I'm someone who would like to see more than just white skin all the time in this game. Yes there's Candac e, Cyn o, and Xinya n, I'm not saying there's nothing but I feel like you have to be a person of color to understand why that's the bare minimum. Obviously they're making millions a day, my opinion is nothing to a multi-million making company unfortunately, but I just wish they were more open to hearing that out. There's a definitely a way to express yourself without anger but I also understand why it's hard not to express yourself without anger when you bring it up you immediately have to get on the defensive because people are so closed off and nobody wants to listen.

Years ago with a friend, he shared this extremely bad take, like it was bad and I approached him about it. He's white. I was scared, I approached immediately with a defensive mindset in case just me with good intentions wanting to share my perspective with him as a brown guy to help him understand why his take was not the best. He was willing to listen to me, to hear me out, he took me seriously, he apologized to me, and we had a nice long discussion of why representation means a lot to someone who isn't white and didn't have the privilege someone like him does. I just wish it was more like that, where we could talk, where we're open to learn.

So the tldr is that it sucks and it's disheartening, they should show proper respect to the inspiration they're so freely taking so many things from and only because someone brings this up it doesn't mean they're "viciously attacking." If you can't understand why it bothers them ASK, try to understand, if you don't want to understand then it’s your loss and stay away from us. Don’t speak over people especially if you DON’T understand and you don’t have the RESPECT on a human-level to ask them and try to understand.

[theromanticscrooge]

A Discussion About “Filler” Episodes in Cartoons

One Urban dictionary entry defines “filler” as “A segment of anime, whether it be an entire episode or part of one, which does not appear in the manga of the title. Fillers, as the name implies, "fills" an episode with non-canonical material which has been written usually by the same company which animates it.”

As anime has become more prominent and easily available in the U.S. and otherwise, some people have started applying the term “filler” to specific episodes in American cartoons.

The bulk of Japanese anime is adapted from popular manga. Most American cartoons are the original brainchild and story of the creator, staff, writers, and team working on it. The closest equivalent American cartoons have are cartoons inspired by DC or Marvel comics. Even those adaptations take heavy creative license with the source material. These aren’t usually a direct retelling of the comics. They’re just as varied and dramatically different from the source material as the comics can be themselves. The best way to describe this: Comics have a set of loose templates and generally known stories that get adapted and re-adapted in ways that vary dramatically between authors and artists working on it. Anime tends to be a retelling of the manga with stylistic changes or cuts/changes made to the story to fit the constraints of animation vs the constraints of a manga page.

Also, most American cartoons within the past 10-20 years have been episodic. The most common structure of said cartoons were disconnected, self-contained stories and it was rare to see any kind of overarching story let alone plot elements or details that remained consistent throughout the series. Enter game-changers like Adventure Time or Steven Universe. Story-driven cartoons are popping up far more often. And it’s not outside the realm of possibility for an episodic cartoon to shift gears and adopt more story-driven elements. It’s not a given end result and there’s even separate debate about whether or not a linear story format is a stronger choice for certain cartoons vs an episodic format. I’m not chiming in on that particular debate for now. If anything, the point of bringing up cartoons that tow the line between episodic and story-driven are that they’re the most common targets for having episodes dubbed “filler.”

With cartoons, every episode is technically part of the “lore” or “canon” of the overall media. When someone calls an episode of a cartoon filler, the impression is that it’s inconsequential to the overarching plot. It gets sticky pretty quickly. If a cartoon has a key character interaction or significant plot moment, albeit brief, in a “filler” episode, that development carries over. It will pop up again and get addressed. With anime, viewers can safely skip entire arcs without missing important plot details. The characters, concepts, and plots in filler may as well not exist.

Even if a “filler” episode in an American cartoon has elements that are dropped or never addressed again, it’s still fundamentally different from a filler episode of something like a shonen anime. It all comes back to the anime being a retelling of a specific story with specific story beats where a cartoon, even with more story-driven elements, has an overarching story that’s getting actively worked on and developed over the course of the cartoon’s run. At the very least, “filler” feels like an odd or inadequate word. It needs further context when used to describe a cartoon episode. Does the viewer need plot-related cliff notes about what was covered to skip the episode or will these notes get recapped or called back to in a way they can easily piece things together?

That take feels pretty disrespectful, too, though. There’s a unique charm to episodic cartoons and media; one that a stricter, linear structure has trouble replicating without pacing issues. When a cartoon has both an overarching story and a scattered episodic structure, there’s room for more one-off stories about characters, world-building, and other smaller details that the main plot doesn’t have room for. For example, these smaller, bite-sized stories feature characters and dynamics that viewers love to see more of from romances, to friends buying birthday gifts, to ridiculous goose chases through the village, town, or general setting the story is in at the time. Episodic content gives the bigger story and characters room to breathe.

“Filler” episodes do piece in to a discussion about story-driven vs episodic content. Without delving too far deeper into that, I think it really depends on the creative team’s overall goals and intent. Some stories are meant to be one consistent chunk, others are episodic, and some are trying to strike a balance between the two. If anything, shouldn’t the discussion be about how successfully executed a story is based on the goals and intent behind it rather than how skippable it is?

[tteokdoroki]

he’s like snowfall | s.todoroki ʚ !! ɞ

❧ ;  SYNOPSIS. the idol group XHEROEZ is due to perform in america for the first time and as their beloved makeup artist— you’re expected to go with them. now... this would be the vacation of a life time, if it weren’t for their a-grade asshole vocalist, shouto todoroki.

❧ ; cpu characters. shouto todoroki x gn!reader.

❧ ; word count. 17.4K

❧ ; genre + rating. kpop idol!au, enemies to lovers!au, angst, fluff, smut, 18+, minors do not interact !!

❧ ; game warnings. - proceed with caution !! characters are in their twenties, todoroki being an asshole, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, handjobs, praise!kink, mentions of injury ( broken leg ), snow storms, being snowed in.

❧ ; streamer commentary. merry belated christmas? i hope you guys enjoy this fic, for me it was a little challenge to write since i dont write for shouto much!! but the plot was super cool to work with. this is a winter wonderland gift from emme’s server for @killerdabi !! <3 m.list. + tip jar. special thanks to @prinvil, @jirou-s + @bakugous-trauma for beta reading !! and to @shiggysvixen-archive for the idol group name <3

people always dream of being remembered for something when they die.

as shallow as it is, humans have an innate craving and desire to be remembered— to live their lives and go down in history for the impossible. whether that’s by breaking records or achieving the unattainable, humans crave recognition, humans crave a life that seems worth living to others.

like most people, you started out with a dream too— you wanted to dance, to sing on stage under twinkling lights and along with the harmonies of thousands of voices paired with your own. being an idol is all you’d ever thought of growing up and you did everything in your power to achieve that dream— you busted your ass throughout middle school and high school, saved up enough money to pay for your trainee days and to travel into the city every day for auditions and practice. even moving cities didn’t stop you, having to start all over again, but by fifteen, you’d signed up to a decent idol agency, worked hard on perfecting your vocals and dancing until you were sure you sounded like an angel from high heavens and you moved as fluid as the water rushing through streams and everything looked like it was going your way.

your debut was coming up on the horizon, the flavour of your chance to make your mark on the world just dashing across the tip of your tongue— the stage was so close, your purpose in life even closer and you could almost touch it.

at least until you couldn’t.

an injury to your right leg takes you out just weeks before your debut, the healing time far longer than your first ever performance scheduled for the big stage. the group you’d been preparing to be a part of to introduce themselves to the world while you recovered back in your hometown, blankets mounted high to block out your tears at night. you’re left dreamless and hopeless, unable to stand on your own two feet from then on— both physically and mentally. what good is a person who can’t support themselves? what life is worth living when you shoot for the stars and miss, crashing right back down to earth? the questions plague you every night, burn in your throat while you fight back tears and the urge to howl your pain at the silver moon.

however, the second company you’d started under after moving was severely understaffed and lacked organisation and maybe this was the universe giving you a second chance to grasp at your dreams. you helped where you could, using your natural and honed talent for dancing to help choreograph routines between attempting to do stage makeup on the trainees and other artists using tips from old fashion magazines you read on the trains home. if you couldn’t be on stage, then you’d damn well be right there beside it. when your injury gives out a year later and you can no longer keep up with the idols in dance, the stars are forgiving and the agency keeps you on as a makeup artist until you can have your surgery. while you don’t mind your job, prettying artists at the agency you had helped build from the ground— it's nowhere near where you want to be, there’s no glitz nor glamour, no millions of fans waiting to hear the part of your lips and a soulful tune reverberating in your throat...not as a makeup artist.

no one will remember you and your dedication from behind the stage curtain.

but if you could help others achieve their goals and dreams where you had failed, then so be it. you would push twice as hard, work even more just for them to break through earth’s barrier and float in the comfort of space and become one of its shining stars. that’s how you ended up working for the idol group, XHEROEZ— the underdogs of the idol industry and your little old company’s pride and joy. the members; kirishima, bakugou, deku and todoroki had debuted almost five years ago and found themselves on a quick rise to fame after their second mini album blew up the global music scene. never in history had anyone seen an idol group break down so many walls and gather so many records under their belt in such a short amount of time.

with world wide success, came many trials and tribulations that the group faced— but they had done well under countless years of pressure and hate, the company was so incredibly proud of them and you too believed that they would continue to do well for many years to come.

working closely with the boys since they performed for the world for the first time, you’d grown increasingly fond of them as the years went by— you’d met katsuki bakugou, the leader and main rapper of XHEROEZ, during your trainee days back in middle school, remembering him as the kid who worked hard and performed even harder during your trainee evaluations. he’d done so well for himself… not only become an idol but to lead one the world’s most famous boybands too, it was nice to see a friend succeed in that way too. you’d also trained with izuku midoriya, the main vocalist and visual too, he was as sweet as can be— in both his vocals even more so towards his staff and fans alike, you couldn’t help but love him. then there was eijirou kirishima, another rapper with the most incredible dance skills you’d ever seen. there were two more members just like him, a chaotic trio consisting of the red head, hanta sero and denki kaminari— both great dancers occupying the sub-vocalist and rapper spots. they were a group of wonderful boys who never made you feel bad for failing to reach past dreaming and push past the pain to get right up there on the stage. they were the closest thing you ever had to friends, working in the industry from such an early age you gave up most of your time for friends and being a kid.

you loved them so much, all of them.

but then there was shouto todoroki.

you could shiver at the mention of his name, a cringeworthy type of feeling running laps up and down the base of your spine every time you think about him, let alone breathe next to him. in your mind, shouto todoroki is the most insufferable person that you’ve ever worked with, taking the position of centre in XHEROEZ. you know that it's wrong to barely have a reason to hate someone, but there’s something about the dual haired idol that leaves you unsettled every time that you interact— he’s a nuisance to you but the perfect idol and performer to everyone else, he’s oh so talented at what he does, never makes mistakes, appeals to his fans with his quiet charms and angelic looks, suits every concept ever made so maybe you’re projecting a little…maybe you only hate him because he’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of being…but beyond the stage, behind the curtains— you’re convinced that he’s nothing more than a lazy and privileged celebrity.

you feel that he takes the idol life for granted, todoroki lacks motivation where his group-mates excel— you don’t even know why he’s doing this, living your life so selfishly and you hate it.

you hate him.

but it’s not like these feelings aren’t reciprocated, shouto’s made it clear to you that he doesn’t like you either, especially with the way he treats you compared to other staff—maybe that’s because you don’t walk on eggshells around him and cater to his skittish, bratty moods by treating him like a god in the way that everyone else does.

“you mind doin’ your job ‘n not diggin’ out my eye with that liner?” bakugou grunts from beneath your steady working hands—effectively pulling you from the depth of your thoughts and getting you to jump right back into the task at hand, fixing the blonde’s eyeliner.

rolling your eyes playfully, you pull back gently on the skin at the corner of katsuki’s own to draw a steady flick of black liner, humming in content at how it compliments the bloody and burgundy smokey shadow you’d done on him earlier. the boys’ most recent comeback had more of a sexy concept to it, so you were often doing darker, more sleek looks for their stage performances, like the music bank one they had scheduled for today. “there y’go, dummy,” you say, barely hiding the smirk on your lips as you flick katsuki’s forehead— exposed by the clip that keeps his hair out of his face so you can work. you pass the leader a hand mirror, letting him accept your work. “that better, pretty boy?”

the blonde idol grunts again but sneers gratefully at your handy-work on his eye-makeup. “shut the fuck up,” you’re close with bakugou, izuku too— having grown up together at your previous agencies, you were comfortable enough to joke like this with one another and you found that treating the boys as your own friends helped them relax before a show. “this liner better stay put on stage.”

“foul language and doubting my skill? who knew idols could be this mean, you sure you’re in the right profession, katsuki?” you taunt back, making the performer close his eyes so you can powder him up and set down his make-up. you can tell by the quirk of his lips that he’s going to reply but a voice you hate that you had grown to recognise cuts through the backstage bustle of the dressing room.

“sorry i’m late everyone,”

and in he comes, the devil himself in the form of shouto todoroki. your eyes flit upwards as you take in his appearance— his lean body that could be mistaken for that of a dancer’s, draped in casual sweats while his hair remains ruffled and his face is slightly puffy from sleep. todoroki looks a mess, arriving late for his schedule too— which only creates more work for the members and staff around him.

“is that the half ‘n half bastard?”

bakugou all but yells, face twisted into such a comical way that between hushed giggles, you almost forget to remind him to relax so that he doesn’t ruin the makeup you’d done for him. “will you ever stop callin’ him that, man? it was funny the first few comebacks but now it’s just getting old,” kirishima speaks next, keeping his tone airy and playful as he approaches you and his hot tempered band mate. throughout the group’s history, shouto had been recognised as the member with a split dye job and katsuki’s nickname for him seemed to stick. slinking up to bakugou, who’s pouting in his chair, eijirou crosses his toned arms over the armrest. you can tell he’s just come over from hair, since there’s a curler in the red-head’s bangs and his luscious locks— so adored by his many fans— have yet to be gelled and styled into place. “and keep it down, midoriya fell asleep in the stylist chair again,”

“todoroki’s still a bastard, even without his stupid half ‘n half hair. that idiot can never keep to the fuckin schedule!” bakugou scolds just loud enough for his other member to hear, todoroki rolling his eyes as he passes by you to check in with another stylist. you don’t miss the way he glares at you too, making you scoff and find distraction in touching up bakugou’s slight lip colour.

“whatever you say, bakugou,” kirishima hums at his leader’s words but easily distracts himself from the tension between his two members by watching you gently pat some glitter into the inner corner of bakugou’s eye for the finishing touch of his stage makeup. “oh wow! you think i could get a look like that for this stage, yn? y’always do such a great job!”

katsuki is quick to jump in. “trust me, y’don’t want them doin’ your makeup, they almost jabbed my fuckin’ eye out.”

pinching his ear with one hand and smiling gently, you point your brush in kirishima’s direction and shake your head. “next time eiji, i’m sure mina will do a great job on your make-up today,” you remind him softly, holding your smile until the rapper is called to his chair for the rest of his styling. you slump after that, poking a resting katsuki in the cheek with the same brush, pouting at him.

“what?” he spits, eyes still closed.

“i don’t wanna be done with your makeup” you whinge, poking the leader of the group again. “i don’t want them to make me work on todoroki next,”

bakugou cracks an eye open, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his lips— annoyance written across the rest of his face since you’re disturbing his only rest before the performance. “you still have kaminari and sero t’work on. good luck with that,” he offers up to you, but you’re not sure if you want to work with that chaotic duo either...they never sit still long enough for you to finish their looks. “dunno why y’hate half ‘n half so much either. he’s not a bad kid, he’s just got a bad fuckin’ attitude and a weird way of approaching things sometimes.”

mouth opening and closing, you don’t bother to argue with bakugou anymore— for he’s already leaning back in his chair to get some shut eye before the show. you hate that he’s right, that he makes you see how illogical it is for you to hold such a grudge against shouto todoroki...but you can’t seem to help it, a burning rage simmering underneath your skin every time the red and white haired male so much as breathes near you. you don’t dwell on the thought however, your magic hands and work was needed elsewhere, so you drift off deeper into the dressing room to try and pin down sero and kaminari for their stage makeup.

about five minutes before the stage, the CEO of your company, fierce wings entertainment — keigo takami, otherwise known as hawks, swings by the boys’ dressing room for a last minute pep talk. all six of the artists you work for gather in a circle around their boss, energy flowing and hearts racing at the thought of being able to sing their hearts out on stage for their fans. “try not to overwork yourselves on stage today, kids,” hawks starts sternly, looking each of the boys in their eye. “we’re jettin’ off to the states for biggest show of your lives tomorrow. the jingle ball. so imma need all of you in tip top shape!”

“yes sir!”

keigo grips the boys by their shoulders, shaking them a little more to emphasise his point. “it doesn’t matter if you don’t bank a music show win today, we’re onto bigger and better things right now.”

“we’ll still aim for a top spot, we didn’t work this hard for nothin’!” sero quips proudly, and denki throws a thumbs up into the circle in agreement.

deku nods too, seemingly shaking the sleep out of his eyes to psych himself up too. “we’ll try our best hawks-san! we won’t let you down!”

the energy is flowing, excitement trickling into the idol group and you stand on the sidelines— wishing so badly be a part of something like this too. kirishima puts his closed fist into the circle for a fist bump, boosting all of XHEROEZ’s morale for the show. “we got this guys, just remember,” he winks, showing off his toothy smile. “we can’t lose as much energy as todoroki, not when he doesn’t have any to begin with!”

the quick roast to todoroki is harmless and seems to send the group into a frenzy of happy and nerve calming laughter— just what they needed, although you don’t miss the way todoroki himself scoffs as the boys do their best not to ruffle his perfectly crimped hair. with a quick thanks from hawks and a congratulations for their hard work, XHEROEZ is ushered onto a stage with an audience of screaming fans waiting to hear their newest title track.

you watch them effortlessly perform their choreo and carry their vocals over the monitor in the dressing room, swallowing to keep the green eyed monster of jealously down in the pits of your stomach. that should be you, you should be up there on stage with hundreds of people screaming your name but instead, you’re here with a stupid broken body that won’t move the way it used to and a broken heart that just isn’t in your dreams anymore.

the boys are all perfect, moving in harmony and your heart jumps as todoroki takes over the screen, heavenly voice dancing through the speakers and taking you right to heaven. you hate that he’s so perfect, so flawless without even having gone to rehearsals. you hate him, you hate him, you—!

“you’re still up to the challenge in the states, right?” hawks interrupts your self-destructive and chaotic train of thoughts, a hand on your shoulder as he comes to join you watch the performance. “america is a whole new playing field for these boys, it’ll be nothing morning like back home.”

keeping your eyes on the monitor, you nod, not wavered by the blonde’s words. “yeah i am,” your voice doesn’t waver, but your face twists when todoroki appears on screen again. “i hope you’re not doubting me, keigo, sir.”

he chuckles in response. “no, never,” he’s not looking at you, but you can tell that keigo is amused. out of every artist and member of staff at fast wings entertainment— you had been with the company the longest and had shown your loyalty to him through the highest of highs and lowest of lows. he understood you, understood how you struggled when you couldn’t debut due to your injury and how it was to sit on the sidelines and watch everything you’ve ever planned for yourself be lived out by someone else. “i’m glad you stayed on with us...even after your injury. i really appreciate everything you’ve done for this company and for these boys. they’d both be nothing without you.”

your leg throbs at the mention of your injury but when you spare a glance at hawks, his head is tipped back and eyes are closed with his infectious grin. “yanno, shouto kinda reminds me of you in some ways. especially as a trainee,” hawks says quietly, patting your shoulder again. “he’s a perfectionist, don’t ya know?”

hawks leaves you then for an incoming phone call, something about the flights for tomorrow and you scoff to yourself, finding the fact hard to believe.

you and shouto todoroki were nothing alike.

how could you be? when his idol group was bringing back a sixth award for their comeback while you were just their lowly makeup artist.

you do rise to the challenge hawks had set for you, but almost thirty minutes late.

hitting snooze on your alarm at the start of one of the biggest weeks of your career had almost cost you a flight from japan to the US to help the boys perform at jingle bell— and now after a fight with your luggage and an angry phone call to your taxi driver, you were rushing through the airport to meet up with the rest of the team taking XHEROEZ abroad to perform. with a text to hawks you’d located the group just outside of a coffee shop, decked out in masks and shades to hide the identities of the idols as they lounge about and wait for their early morning flight.

relieved that you haven’t missed anything, you rush over, tailed by your stupid two-wheel suit case which bumps the back of your sneakers every once in a while. you look down to fix the damn thing when you suddenly collide with a warm wall of flesh— an even warmer, almost scalding liquid seeping through the fabric of your shirt but for some reason you find that you’re moving to apologise first.

“i’m sorry—“ that is until you look up. grey and cerulean eyes bore deep into your own while the green eyed beast of jealousy makes its home in your chest cavity— pressed up against bare bone and your slippery organs as they struggle to let the oxygen rattle through you. “shouto.”

the apologetic tone in your voice falls flat as you realise the dual toned idol was the culprit of bumping into you, dumping his sticky early morning latte loaded with sugar and cream and all sorts of syrups all over you. you see a smirk twist on his lips, just barely indicated by the quirk in the corner of his mouth and it makes you vibrate with a flash of red, in the shade of rage. you hate him.

“watch where you’re going,” todoroki says cool and collected, he utters your name once before bringing his cup to his lips— seemingly having saved half of his drink from ending up on you. “wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

it takes all of your strength and the will to keep your job to stop yourself from knocking out the idol group member. “you should watch it,” comes your malicious snarl, that only serves to fuel the kind of hold todoroki has over you. he stands up, straightening his back as he towers over you and hums with disinterest— as if your little interaction is entertaining him while it serves to piss you off more.

“why? i’m the one with an insured face. you’re the one with a job to do.”

god, that lazy cocky bastard was going to make you lose it.

mimicking his stance, you too straighten your back and puff out your chest a little bit, steeling your eyes as you counter him with your own argument. “well I’d be able to do that job if you weren’t always running late you little—“

“there you two are! we were beginning to think you were late!” your arrival to the scene is noticed by the sweetheart, deku, first and you smile brightly— or as best as you can— while he approaches, watching his own corner of his lips quirk down to a frown when he senses the tension between you and his bandmate. “oh.”

yeah, oh.

todoroki shrugs, seemingly more interested in bothering a tired bakugou than a tired you and fucks off elsewhere, leaving hanta to your rescue. god bless him and the baby wipes he’s being made to hold in his carry on. hawks gives a quick briefing of the days schedule when everyone is finally gathered together, yawns interjecting his fast paced speech as he does so. “there’s gonna be very little time between landing, checking in and sound check so be sure to eat up on the plane. use the company card.” his words only earning groans from the idols and their team.

“but plane food sucks,” kaminari whines, the only way you could tell it was him was from the signature twang in his voice fans seemed to love— for a black baseball cap covers his electric yellow hair. the sub vocalist flings himself over bakugou, amber irises swirling with fake tears as he begs the other blonde to do something about their brutal schedule.

sneering with annoyance, bakugou can’t help but agree. “we gotta find time to eat, boss. denki’s brain won’t last that long.”

“hey!”

“i’ll treat you to room service when we land, team dinner after rehearsals. is that a deal?” the CEO taps his bottom lip, grinning when everyone nods in agreement. “don’t forget, we’ll be vlogging the experience for the XHEROEZ youtube channel. feel free to record whenever you’re ready. cameras are on jirou, okay guys?” another nod from the idols.

all except for todoroki.

you don’t even have to be near him to feel the annoyance radiation’s from his body— hearing it in the scoff he lets out and the way kirishima’s sneakers scuff against the squeaky clean airport floor as he pushes the red head away, the rapper claiming that vlogging could be pretty fun. another way to connect with their fans.

rolling your eyes, you cross your sticky coffee glazed arms. “of course he wouldn’t wanna film,” your cool gaze meets shouto’s from between your fellow coworkers and the idols you work for, he shivers as if he’s gotten frost bite but you don’t break eye contact— elbowing katsuki to deliver the rest of your joke. “he’s too lazy to keep up with his usual schedule,”

the boys let out a chorus of ooo’s, deku swatting you for your words, kirishima pouting with his arms protectively around the aforementioned male while sero and kaminari burst into a fit of laughter— you barely gauge a reaction from their leader, who shakes his head at your antics. you would have taken this a win against your sworn enemy, but hawks quickly brings you all together for your flight leaving at terminal three and the cameras follow— given out to each of the boys and shouto’s on screen personality begins to shine while you make your way through.

you hate that, how easily he switches from being disinterested in his life, his career, to being so alluring— dishing out fan service left and right. it was hard for you to process, how fake his emotions seem towards the very people that let him live out his dreams. todoroki shared the camera with his green haired band mate, filling the device with clips of cute expressions and asking one another about the upcoming trip— which you ignore in favour of accepting your board pass as members of staff hand them out.

“so, who has the pleasure of sitting next to me?” you coo, checking over your plane ticket for your seat number before you tuck it into your passport.

husky laugher echoes in your right ear, hanta rubbing your shoulder warmly. “heh, well about that…” he trails off, barely whispering your name.

you squint. “what about it, hanta?”

the group of performers fall silent, no one wanting to own up to the games they’d played behind your back. “well you see,” eijirou buts in next after a prompt elbow in the ribs, turning to you with his signature sharp toothed smile. “you snore on the plane and…”

“we need to get a lot of rest for this flight…” izuku chimes in next, ever so sweet— his sunspot freckles stamped over the red hue on his cheeks making it hard to stay mad at him as he guides you onto the plane— shielding you from possible crazed fans even though it should be the other way around. as big as they were, private flights weren’t so affordable to the group yet so first class had to do for now, meaning odd encounters like this, even as security staff but in however. “so we…”

“oi dipshit!” seemingly having had enough of the prolonged explanation his band mates are giving you, your long time friend and rapper katsuki throws you an amused chuckle from over his shoulder. you’ll never get over how foul mouthed he is for an idol. “they played rock, paper, scissors t’see who’d sit next t’ya on the plane, ‘cause truth be told no one wants ta! you snore like a bitch.”

you gasp, nose scrunching as denial weaves its way into your voice. “i do not!”

“you do!” the members of XHEROEZ chorus, making you huff and cross your arms.

“you all suck.” comes your petulant retort. well deserved you might add, as it turns out, shouto todoroki had drawn the short end of the stick and you too— for you would both be seat mates for the next eleven and a half hours.

“don’t sleep on me.” the dual haired boy snarls as he throws his carry on into the overhead cabin, taking up the last space on your side. you shoot him a nasty glare, one that could have put him six feet under if only it could kill.

“don’t lose Rock Paper Scissors next time, asshole.”

———

arriving in the states did not go as smoothly as planned, which definitely caused your boss, keigo, some stress.

the fans in america are much more rowdy than those back home— of course all fan bases love the boys equally as much, but there were so many screams and attempts for signatures from the boys had put a little dent in the schedule as security had taken a while to help the team through the uncontrollable waves of people. it takes an extra hour to get through customs, there’s traffic between the airport and the hotel and another swarm as sleek black cars carrying japan’s most treasured idols slip through the main city of NYC to get to their hotel.

the boys, they love the attention, however— getting to greet their fans from another country is surreal and meaningful to them and the smiles never leave their faces all the way through check-in. after that, bags are dumped in rooms and they along with security and their CEO head to madison square garden for a rehearsal and to meet other artists part of the line up for this year. the rest of the staff, makeup artists and stylists, are free to roam the hotel until they get back.

a room in a five star hotel is not a luxury you could afford on your own, even with the salary you earn from working with one of the world’s biggest boy groups— the four digit numbers in your bank account wouldn’t even begin to cover the cost of the high thread count imported sheets that were neatly spread across the bed you would be staying in for the next few nights. you’d never been in a place as pretty as this, just walking through the reception as your jaw locked lower than usual, especially with the high ceilings and crystal chandeliers hanging above your head every ten steps. marble arches up high, accented by potted plants you’ve read help improve air quality, staff members and hotel clerks stop you every once in a while to offer you complimentary drinks and candy and you can’t help but be in awe.

you could never afford a place like this on your own and the very fact almost stings.

fuck it, it does sting.

because if you had made it as an idol, you would have been leading a life like this— where jetting off to new locations to perform and staying in hotels that cost more than your yearly rent for just one night would be the norm for you. you wouldn’t ever take opportunities like this for granted, counting them as blessings. but you’re here, on a job as a makeup artist and this could never just have been the result of your own hard work towards your dream. so instead, you fiddle with the tinsel taped to the underside of the desk at reception as you ask the clerk behind it whether or not the hotel does room service.

you hear him say ‘yes’ under the faint sound of christmas music played on a piano and head back upstairs to your floor, deciding to unwind and relax before your week gets too hectic. getting back to your room, you order a big american cheeseburger and fries to pair, deciding to take a hot shower to wash off the grime from your flight while you wait. the overwhelming scent of coconut milk and orchids do enough to melt the bad feelings from your brain too.

you’re halfway through throwing on a complimentary cotton robe when voices can be heard behind your door and you almost think it’s your room service order already.

“that rehearsal was complete shit,” you hear a familiar gruff voice call through your door— placing it as none other than katsuki bakugou’s, which means the boys must be back by now.

kaminari speaks next, tone mocking and playful. “s’only cause sho couldn’t follow the music, his rhythm was completely off!”

“because someone made me sit next to that god awful makeup artist of ours, i couldn’t concentrate because i barely got any sleep!” his voice seeps into the conversation buzzing between the members of XHEROEZ. it was common knowledge to anyone that neither of you liked each other, the rivalry you had seeming more one-sided on your end more than anything— but the way todoroki speaks about you now is more malicious than anything you’ve ever heard. cruel and uncaring, and it makes your stomach twist to know that he really just doesn’t like you.

the voices agree, sure your snoring is loud— they say— but they don’t think you’re god awful, they like you and that’s okay. it’s okay. at least the other boys like you, right? but todoroki doesn’t stop there, as they get closer, he only seems to grow hotter, angrier as he talks about you— a stark contrast to his cool and collected nature around you usually. “they’re so loud and inconsiderate of their noise, not to mention how they’re always picking a useless fight with me.” shouto might as well be singing his hatred towards you, mean and fervent words sewn together like lyrics to a song.

“don’t you think you’re being a little harsh? they do a lot for us, a little snoring can be ignored right?” god bless eijirou kirishima, for he defends you without a trace of doubt and your heartbeat picks up as you begin to lean against the door, waiting for todoroki to answer. why do you even care for what he has to say about you? you have no idea.

“not in the slightest,” the younger, dual haired idol retorts venomously, as if talking good about you leaves a bad taste in his mouth. they’re all right outside your door now and you can see the weight of someone you assume to be todoroki’s palm resting against your locked door handle— he hasn’t noticed yet and the other idols seem to warn him of that. deku softly reminds him that this isn’t his room, sero too but he’s too wrapped up in bitching about you to care. “what good have they done for me? if anything, my being an idol— us being idols, provided them with a job. not the other way around—!”

todoroki presses down on the handle again and you choose that exact moment to open the door, letting him stumble into your room— his last words being your final straw. your job, be it as it may, not what you wanted to do with your life...was a result of nobody else’s hard work but your own. you were the one that had gotten you this far, you had no help, you did it all on your own and god damn anyone who said your efforts were useless. you were proud of what you had achieved but that didn’t mean it hurt any less to hear someone else say you were practically worth nothing.

so you hoped it hurt shouto todoroki more to come face first with the ground while you towered over him.

the boys gasp, standing crowded around the door with sheepish expressions and apologies ready on the tips of their tongues but they all cease one they realise the force of your rage is directed at their vocalist instead of them.

“fuck,” todoroki says your name, no more than a whisper under his breath while his cool toned eyes gaze up into yours with something you can’t quite place, something that looks like remorse. “how...how much of that did you hear?”

when you gaze down at the idol, you notice the way he speaks to you slowly and the shine of his insured and shiny pink glossed lips as if to distract you with what his fans might like— as if you’re to be swayed by something like that when those same lips utter such poisonous and mean spirited words. you wonder what his fans would think if they heard shouto talk like that.

“you should be more careful with how loud you speak in public hotels like this,” you keep your voice even, don’t let your emotions slip through the cracks, not sadness and certainly not joy when you see todoroki’s bottom lip quiver nervously. “you wouldn’t want to get caught in an idol scandal, would you? you never know who’s listening.”

both todoroki and his band mates are left gobsmacked, perhaps they had been expecting a larger reaction out of you but you choose not to give either the satisfaction— slamming the door shut just within an inch of shouto’s fingers and sliding down the door to catch your breath, soothe your heartache before it starts.

the next time someone appears at your door, you wait for them to call room service before you let them in.

———

“what am i doing here again?”

you yawn, rubbing your eyes as a woollen hat not belonging to you is tugged over your head. bakugou tsks, standing half a head taller than you while he wraps you in a scarf. the other members of XHEROEZ are in similar states, yawning with their noses tucked into the fabric of their clothes to fight off the biting cold running through the new york air.

“is there something on the schedule that i missed? thought today was our day off.”

bakugou sniffs once, satisfied with his work. “s’not on the schedule. the boys and i are taking you out today,” you quirk a brow and he elaborates. “as an apology.”

flickering your stare elsewhere, you try not to think about the little show from last night or the awful words that trickled underneath your hotel room door. “for bitchin’?” the colour in your eyes finds izuku goofing off with todoroki and kaminari for their vlog and you see how seamless their bond is, something you craved for— to be part of a team like this.

“f’bitchin’, was todoroki’s idea.”

the blonde leader doesn’t say much more as the cars arrive and security loads each of the boys into them in groups of three. you end up with katsuki, sero and todoroki and the drive was as awkward as you could probably guess. apparently at the dinner you’d skipped last night, the boys found out from hawks about your failed idol career and how it landed you a job in the same industry that failed to look after you and catapult you towards your dreams, they’d learned that without you hawks’ entertainment company would have nothing but a bad reputation and bankruptcy— you were one of the reasons they were even able to debut along with their senior artists and trainees.

so taking you out for the day, to experience this new city and live the idol life for just a day was their way of showing appreciation and despite it being shouto’s idea, he makes no efforts to actually apologise to you— in fact, he avoids you for the whole day. he separates from the rest of the group when you guys wonder through the art exhibits at the gagosian gallery while you goof off with the others, taking silly videos on the camera’s jirou had assigned them. you felt bad that she’d spend hours scrubbing you out of the footage to make sure you couldn’t be seen or spark any fan-theories on who that person was or were the boys dating? however it was more fun to cause chaos amongst the fanbase.

todoroki does the same when XHEROEZ gets a private session at the ice rink by the rockerfeller centre— shut down to the public only because of the weight of their fame and their dazzling smiles. kirishima’s shaky grip on the camera showcases the atrocious figure skating skills of his band mates, midoriya stumbles a little too much on the picks of his skates— stabilised by your arm while katsuki glides right across the ice as if he was born to. he could be a skater in his next life, hanta too but they both twirl a little too much and end up on their butts once they collide. kaminari chokes on his laughter and shouto missed out yet again.

in fact the only time you do bump into the dual haired idol is on your way out of the bathroom— a smile spread wide across your frost tinted cheeks because this is the most fun you’ve had in such a long time, not having to worry about the doubt on your mind...but then.

then seeing him, seeing shouto and his blank face, the lack of remorse or feeling in his cerulean and cloudy grey eyes brings it all back. how cold he acts towards you brings your walls back up and your happiness back down and even though this is his way of apologising, you don’t really feel that much better at all.

his words from the night before ringing in your head.

‘that god awful makeup artist of ours,’

'what good have they done for me?’

blinking, you don’t even realise how much time has passed and how long you’ve been focused on todoroki’s words for— frowning at yourself for focusing on him on the day that’s supposed to be about you. yourself, XHEROEZ and their security huddle around each other, in line for your first taste of american street food from a polite vendor— you let sero place an order for you, while you keep your gaze set on the landscape of New York City. the snow here is different to that of japan, it’s heavy and thick. rough as it falls and bites at your nose and cheek, coating cars and sky scrapers alike and drowning it in freezing white blankets. looking up to the sky you see nothing but familiar shades of deep grey for miles, it’s almost claustrophobic how much snow there is— like you’re trapped in a snow globe being turned upside down, shaking you from your comfort and throwing your emotions about the place.

beyond the puffs of your warm breath into the sub-freezing air, you notice a group of girls peering curiously at your group as they debate on the toppings to go on their hot dogs from the vendor. you smile, jutting your elbow into the puffy torso of midoriya ( layered up in some designer jacket you have no doubt bakugou told him to wear ). “you’ve got fans deku,” you say wistfully.

“hm? oh—oh!” the poor green haired bab almost drops his heated treat when he whips over to look at you.

“you should go say hi, it would make their day,” shrugging as you suggest it, deku looks down to you with a small frown, sauce on his freckled upper lip. “what?”

curls bounce as he shakes his head, littered with snowflake crystals. “n-nothing! it’s just that...if i go say hi, the others will want to as well, and then you’ll be left alone. with todoroki no doubt...he’s not one for these kinds things…”

ah. there it is.

“go say hi izuku, i can manage grumpy vocalist number two for a while.” you assure him, but it doesn’t seem to work and by now his band mates have noticed the shy group of fans a little further down the sidewalk.

“h-he’s not that bad yanno, not as bad as you think,” deku nudges the arm of your jacket just as todoroki approaches you both— leaving you alone with him and the snow to go make his fans’ day, their Christmas no doubt.

then there’s silence, an odd sense of New York City quiet— accompanied by people barking down the phone to colleagues and the honk of city traffic, a soundtrack to the city you reside in for a few days. one that’ll soon be filled with the cheers of XHEROEZ lovers across the state, maybe even the country and quite possibly the world. it’s just you and todoroki now, standing together awkwardly, listening to the world around you as you watch his friends interact with the people who appreciate them the most.

kirishima takes pictures with a few of the girls, kaminari doing his best to thank them while izuku insists they be in the little vlog. bakugou and sero manage a conversation in English, both having gone to international schools before becoming idols.

you take a chance and look up to shouto who stands beside you, snowflakes caught in the unfair length of his lashes, sitting high on his slightly scarred cheekbone that his fans still adore despite not knowing where it came from or how he got it. you won’t ask and it’s part of his charm, you guess. “you should be over there, with them.” comes your voice, hushed against the bustling city.

“i’m not one for fan service,”

you scoff, knowing just how todoroki acted on stage and on camera. not one for fan service your ass. “liar.” liar, pants on fire. you finish the rest in your head, knowing he’d tease you for being childish.

“you’re right,” he hums under his breath, turning to look at you with his hands in his pockets. “i lied because you wouldn’t be able to handle their reactions if i did go over there and give them the fan service they’re after. i know you hate it when i do it.”

how did he—? were you that obvious with your dislike for him?

“you must hate your fans then,”

“oh no, quite the contrary. i only save hatred for one special person,” todoroki jests, at least you think he’s joking when he pulls his hands out of his pockets to salute you before joining the rest of his idol group standing with the girls. for once, he hadn’t said something mean when opening his mouth to speak to you and for once you find a coy smile on your lips at this fact. maybe shouto todoroki truly was apologetic for what he had said about you yesterday, and perhaps if things kept going like this, you would be able to forgive him.

it was a step in the right direction.

with newfound, better spirits, you munch on your greasy american treats with the security guards while the boys do their thing, scrolling through your phone and not even noticing that one of the girls has approached you.

you only do so when she grips your wrist, eyes boring deep into your soul— nails almost digging into your flesh.

“uh—excuse me?”

“you should stay away from them, XHEROEZ.” her tone is adamant, clearly a crazed fan as she steps into your personal space just a little more. “they don’t need some chick like you getting in the way of their career and ruining their success.”

security steps forward to separate you from the girl but you hold a hand up behind you— thinking that you could maybe talk her down. “l-listen, i just work for them? i’m not,” her nails dig deeper into your flesh and you gasp. “i-i’m not going to ruin anything!”

“stay away from them, stay away from todoroki.” she threatens again, shaking your entire body just from her grip on your wrist and of course she’s one of his stupid little fans— if you coild even call her that. she grabs at you again but this time you flinch out of fear, worried for an impact that may never come. “you’ll get him into a scandal!” her mouth almost froths.

her hero, her idol— shouto todoroki pulls you away from her before that happens. “i think your behaviour could get me into an even bigger scandal than my makeup artist could.” he grits his teeth, getting his bodyguards to pull the girl away from you completely— hissing at them to do their damn jobs to protect you as well as them. she was sure to get blacklisted.

“t-todoroki! i’m your biggest fan! i was just taking my care of this for you—“ she exclaims, thinking her idol would be impressed but the girl’s face, one stricken with awe for the man she’d only ever seen on screen, drops as shouto turns against her, defending you with waves of heat running off of his body into the crisp air.

“you’re not a true fan if you think harassing my staff is the way to go. back off.” todoroki keeps his voice even and polite, dragging you away from the girl as he lets security deal with her. the idol looks at you again, his eyes flash with hostility again— at you, or the girl you have no idea why but it seems whatever fleeting truce you had gone with the wind.

your day out ends here, a chill in your bones at todoroki defending you, at a girl almost clawing your face off. not a word is uttered about it until you’re back at the hotel and hawks has the pr team back in Japan sweep the incident clean off of the Internet.

when you go to bed that night, you can’t get that look on shouto’s face out of your mind— trying to figure out if you should hate that he protected you or feel apologetic instead.

on the day of the show you remain a muddle of emotions— conflicted as to how you should feel about shouto todoroki.

he was an enigmatic spider with a complex web of emotions that you couldn’t seem to understand. did he hate you? did he respect you? the lines had blurred more and more over the course of this trip to the point where your brain throbbed just thinking about shouto todoroki— seeing him as more than just a personal projection of your failures. seeing him as a whole person versus the fraction that made you hate him.

could even say that you hated him now?

you shake the thought from your frazzle mind in order to finish setting up the rest of your kits, shades of foundation and eye shadows already spread across the vanity in the backstage area the staff at the jingle ball had prepared for you. the boys tumble out of rehearsals shortly after, high on the energy they feel from being on stage and performing— even if it was just for sound check. they practically glow under the white tinted artificial light up above and you know that their sheer joy will make your job very easy tonight.

XHEROEZ will be performing a six song set with a range of concepts, so you decide to go with something personal for each of the boys— drafting out the looks in your notebook prettily until you jump at the sound of a furious hawks’ voice.

“whaddya mean you don’t know where shouto todo-fuckin’-roki is?” the ends of the blonde’s words are clipped, the vein on his forehead pulsing with irritation— the tips of his ears flaring bright red and the CEO looks as if all of his feathers have been ruffled right down to the core. kirishima stands opposite him, face guilty and crimson eyes turned towards the floor while his band mates look on in shock. “anyone got any clue as t’where that brat might be?”

and of course, the man you feel so torn over is missing on one potentially the biggest days of his career— an instance that makes your stomach twist with, greed to perform and to have what he has bleed green into your guts in the shade of feverish jealousy. “i-i’m sorry boss,” eijirou close to whines, the ecstatic energy that had been building up in his body slowly trickling out. the room cools with the sudden dampening in the air and hawks pinches the bridge of his nose, waiting for the rapper to continue. “i woke him up just before we left! he said he was comin’ but i thought he was taking the other car today, so i didn’t push—!”

“‘course that kid sleeps in.” the boss’ shoulders drop with his sharp inhale of breath as his yellow gaze shoots to you and you curse when he utters your full name. “you’re up, can you grab todoroki from the hotel for me?”

“but why me?” you whine like a child at the thought of seeing him again. “why not someone else—?”

keigo sighs, patience running thin. with you, with everyone in the room and the selfishness of XHEROEZs’ vocalist. “you’re the only artist that has their station set up, we need all the managers and staff here to finish getting set up for the show that starts in four hours,” your boss is getting even more pissed off the more he reasons with you and you feel like the more he talks, the less choice you have.

in the end, you agree to go, with an hour to travel to the hotel and back— you manage to get up to todoroki’s hotel room, banging down on the door while his manager waits outside in a sleek black car. the drive had taken a little over half an hour, with a light stream of traffic settling through New York City due to the settling snow— so there wasn’t much time left to wake up the seemingly sleeping dual haired idol, and banging on the door wasn’t working out for you now. shoving your hand into your pocket, you pull out the keycard kirishima had given you— since the two were sharing a room and force your way in.

todoroki shouldn’t look like an angel while he’s asleep.

despite the mess of the room, in his place in his bed todoroki is illuminated by the bright and natural light shining through the curtain— his red and white locks are spread messily across his expensive pillows, cherry lips parted gently at he snores quietly into the room. he looks so pretty, so pretty you almost don’t even want to wake him up but he has a job to do, people counting on him for one of the biggest nights of the year. people are counting on you to get him there. in three short strides, you cross the room and reach the idol’s bed before attempting to shake him awake.

“todoroki, todoroki!” you hiss lowly, still quiet as if not to wake him when it’s essentially your major goal. shouto groans lightly, akin to a child trying to hide from their mom rousing them from their sleep. you try again and he turns away from you, only causing your irritation to spike. “shouto! wake the fuck up!”

he blinks, once, twice.

and then he sees you.

pretty face twisted into a scowl, hair out of place ever so slightly— brows furrowed and the first thing that comes out of his mouth is. “what?”

“w-what? wh-whaddya mean what?” you gasp, suddenly flustered as you realise how close you are to shouto, so close you can feel his breath on your skin and you topple backwards onto his bed— knees hitting the comforter glossed with his scent. peppermint candy-canes. “do you have any idea what time it is? how late you are? what were you even doing?”

“sleeping.” obviously.

todoroki’s lips quirk up into an amused smirk. you’re cute when you’re angry and bitter, even cuter when he’s sliding out of bed shirtless and you have no choice but to look at his toned dancer’s body— going from roaring at him like a pissed off wildcat to trembling like a little kitten. “sleeping? you’re due to perform at the Madison Square Garden in literally three hours and you were sleeping?” you squeak, chucking a shirt at him amidst your panic and throwing a bag together full of shoutou’s belongings he might need for after the show. “this is a career changing moment! life changing even! and you were about to sleep right through it—!”

“alright,” the idol cuts through your words as a messy mop of candy cane hair pops through his grey-blue cotton shirt— you note that it matches his eyes. roughly. “relax, i get it. i’m awake now, we won’t be late.”

something about the nerveless echo to todoroki’s voice is what tips you over the edge, setting off your fuse. “you know this is about more than just you right? there are fans counting on you, people waiting for you..” whirling around, the words are spat out through gritted teeth, accompanied by your narrowed eyes and an even deeper scowl. “oversleeping? that's just—it’s just irresponsible!”

todoroki doesn’t like that, how you suddenly switch on him— attacking him just millimetres from where his heart is, where his fans and career lie. “you’re calling me irresponsible? after you almost got yourself attacked by fans the other day?” he snarls back, making you freeze. making you gasp.

your movements pause as you throw open his hotel curtains, expanding the slit of white light that leaks into the room—he had protected you and now he was blaming you? the room is flooded with blaring white from the heavy layers of snow outside, blanketing the city in shades of crisp eggshell, dotting car tops and skyscrapers and sidewalks. the whole city is a city of snow. you can feel the chill draft seeping through the seal of the windows, stinging your fingertips and your cheeks until you have to be yanked away from the cold before it seeps into your bones.

“it’s cold,” todoroki growls into the shell of your ear, arms wrapped around your middle as he pulls you away. “you should be careful.” there’s a beat of silence where you’re both entranced by the snow falling from up above, shouto slowly letting you go and pulling his warmth away from you with it. “you’re an idiot,”

he says softly as your phone buzzes with a text message from shouto’s manager outside, there’s a light blizzard coming, stay indoors. it says.

so you don’t bother to move.

———

fifteen minutes later and shouto wanders out of the shower in an even more sour mood than before, sweats hanging low on his taut waist as water droplets cascade down his milky skin and drip from his two toned hair, illuminated by the white sky outside.

the entire duration of his shower, you’d spent sitting on his bed with your gaze fixated on the snowy view— trying to come up with alternative methods to get back to the venue with the time you have left, which is just under three hours at this point. you’d promised hawks you’d have todoroki back within one. while shouto moves about the room, presumably getting dressed, your phone pings with a message from katsuki— no doubt bored while he gets his hair done for the show.

blonde brat - 7:52PM: you got that half n half asshole yet?

you - 7:55PM: peppermint gremlin secured!!

blonde brat - 7:57PM: thank fuck. get back here.

tucking away your phone with a heavy sigh, you turn back to todoroki who’s flicking through his own device— perhaps checking his Twitter account or the weather as well. “i’ve been trying to figure out a way for us to get to MSG through the weather, i think if we—“

“i don’t care. just get us there.” he snaps in response, face falling the more he scrolls through his phone— he looks to you then, your brow raised and unimpressed and rolls his eyes. “gonna scold her for being irresponsible and inconsiderate too? my shower was cold, don’t expect me to be all fine and dandy.”

“you can just take a warm shower, when we get to the venue of course. don’t be a sourpuss,” you chuckle and try not to look while todoroki puts his phone down to tug on a thicker sweater, his abs rippling as he works. “we’re gonna bundle up extra warm and take an uber down there, if we leave while the snow is light we could probably make it—“

todoroki sucks his teeth, looking at you as if you were stupid. “have you seen the weather reports? i’m not going out in that. it’ll get worse.”

“that’s why we should leave now, while the snow is light and so you don’t have to disappoint your thousands of adoring fans,” you counter, rendering the idol temporarily silent as he rolls his eyes at you and finishes off getting ready. however, you end up being the disappointed one when you realise there aren’t any ubers or bolts available in your area. “you know what? we might have to walk it,” you say quietly as you make your way over to the door, pushing down on the handle and frowning when the door won’t budge. “what the hell?”

now fully dressed, the dual haired idol joins you at the door, still in a sour mood as he gives the door a push as well— grunting when it doesn’t open. “we’re not doing that— push harder.”

“i am!” you whine. “we need to leave if we're going to get there on time.”

“no you’re not, push again.”

you’re both fighting the door, trying to get out of the hotel room— banging on it with your shoulders and using all of your body weight to get through until the complimentary phone starts to ring shrilly from across the room. todoroki moves to answer, leaving you to struggle with the handle a little more.

‘dear guest, due to the unfortunate bad weather— our electronic keycard systems controlled by online software are currently down. we advise you to remain calm in your rooms while we manually unlock these doors.’

well fuck.

with the systems down, there’s effectively no way for you and todoroki to escape the hotel room— trapped together in an enclosed space with your impatience and frustrations rising.

it doesn’t help that the power completely goes out as well.

———

without power, the pair of you set up some of the scented candles hotel staff are passing under the doors to keep everyone warm— since it’s only a matter of time before the heating systems go down too. todoroki ignores you for the most part, giving you a cold shoulder chillier than the snow storm building up outside, so you use the peace in the room to send out texts to hawks and the other staff members, letting them know that you won’t be able to make it back in time for the show— your battery dies halfway through responding to bakugou.

“this is all your fault,” you say, nose tipped up like a snooty child and todoroki finally pays you some attention, expression confused as you speak to him. “if you hadn’t been so selfish, followed your schedule like everybody else! we wouldn’t have been in this mess. if we had just left when the snow was light like i said we should, we would have been there by now!”

shouto huffs, setting his phone down calmly while his face flashes with the flames of anger. “it wouldn’t have mattered what time we left, with this snow we wouldn’t even have a show! and i’m allowed to be selfish— to want to rest when i’m overworked. i needed the rest, so just can it, okay?”

you don’t understand, his argument is weak. today, this show, it isn’t just about him— there’s no room to be selfish like this in a team full of other people reaching for the stars— launching themselves into space to touch their dreams. it makes you sick to your stomach, the way he thinks— like everything is all about him. “your fans needed you!” you all but scream, voice tearing through the silence in the room— the volume and angry colour to your voice surprising you both. “god just...just give me your charger so i can get my phone back and call someone to fix this within the next two hours.”

“i don’t have it.” he blinks.

and you blink back. “what do you mean you don’t have it?”

“kirishima took it with him.” todoroki says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “where’s yours?”

“at the venue. the one we’re supposed to be at right now, idiot!”

“well then who���s the idiot now?”

you think that this is your last straw, throwing your phone onto todoroki’s bed with so much force that it bounces back up like the rage you feel brewing deep inside you to hit the idol all at once. “you know what? you know what todoroki?” you’re sure that in this moment you must look a picture of insanity to him, eyes twitching, face scrunched up in anger but you don’t care— throwing out all your inner thoughts and insecurities onto him. “you’re the laziest, most insensitive, piece of shit asshole i’ve ever met. people out there are counting on you, want to see you, want to be you and here you are lazing about because you must not give a shit about anyone aside from yourself.”

“god,” you continue, throwing your hand up in the air— irked by his silence. “you really don’t care, do you? you’re probably not even in it for your fans, but for the money and the fame and not what it means to be a true idol—!”

“are you done now?” the dual haired male cuts through your speech like ice through a water surface— his eyes frozen over, showing no emotion even if your words might have gotten to him. “you like to act like you’re above me…” he says your name so icily that you flinch as if a shard as nicked your skin. “but really you’re just as bad as me, picking on the idol you work for by projecting your insecurities onto him as if i’m some kind of rag doll. i’m everything you’ve ever wanted to be, everything you’ve dreamed of and failed at achieving. it’s pathetic, embarrassing. you failed at becoming an idol, then becoming a choreographer and now. even a makeup artist.”

“you only care because someone else is doing the shit that you can’t. i’m the pathetic one? try being you.”

each one of his words is like a sting to your beating heart, the venom behind them seeping into your veins slowly and poisoning you from the inside out. you refuse to cry in front of him, show him that everything he’s said about you is true and so you swallow the lump in your throat— biting down on your tongue, pushing it all down. it’s not until after everything is said and done that todoroki realises the harshness of what he’s said— reaching out to grab you and apologise as you turn away from him. hurt.

backing into a corner and away from him, the world goes quiet around todoroki as he tries to find the words he needs to make your pain go away. “save it, shouto. use your energy to hope that someone gets us outta here. so you don’t fail like i did.”

neither of you speak after that.

teeth chattering, you desperately try to sink into the warmth of todoroki’s old promotional clothes— the heating having gone out about half an hour ago. he’d looked it up on the internet just before his phone died, how to keep warm without power and most articles suggested layering up and spreading out blankets along the floors. the clothes, despite consisting of itchy fabrics and random stylised holes, carry a comforting scent despite belonging to a man with a frozen heart, you’re at least grateful for that.

“there’s uh, a little warm spot on this side of the room if you’re still cold,” todoroki calls from his own little sanctuary of warmth, as he puts down his guitar— where you’d practically banished him to.

you scowl, bunching up his many jackets and jumpers around you. “could’a mentioned that earlier.” asshole.

you sidle over to his side of the room, hesitantly letting todoroki guide you to a warm spot in the floor where hot water must’ve been running and sigh in relief— you don’t know how long it’ll last but you’ll take what you can get.

“we should probably huddle together—“

“no.” you cut him off.

“—for warmth.” he lifts his arm to invite you underneath the blankets he has and it’s so so tempting, to huddle up beneath them with him and tuck yourself into the comforting scent of todoroki’s chest but you’re scared it won’t be so warm and he won’t be so comforting if you do. “it said so on the thread we read—“

“fine.”

you curl into his firm side, blanket trapping you in against the idol but you don’t dare to move— face stiff against the muscle of his chest while you try to gather every string of warmth from him. it feels weird to be hugging shouto todoroki like this. the red and white haired idol reaches for his guitar again, slowly as if not to disturb you and hesitantly strums the same chords from earlier— as if he was figuring out a melody.

“i didn’t know that you played,” you whisper against the melody, breaking the pin drop silence in the sub zero air. todoroki scribbles something down on a napkin and you gasp. “or wrote.”

he looks down at you, eyes shimmering in the flickering candle light and there’s somewhat of a smile on his face. “there’s a lot you don’t know about me,”

“oh yeah?” you push, sitting up. “like what?”

todoroki pretends to think, brushing his dual tone hair out of his winter eyes before smirking at you mischievously. “i help to write some of the songs bakugou produces, bleaching my hair is never a probably because it’s naturally white, i like cold soba but hate when kirishima cooks it because it’s too bland,” he starts listing those, watching you carefully for a reaction— remembering the facts that make your face twist. “i like living at the dorms because i’m not close with my parents and hardly see my siblings, i get travel sick. my blood type is O, my favourite season is winter, my favourite animal is a snow leopard and i like the colour blue.” he finishes gently, fingers resting against his guitar strings.

“the last ones, you can read those on fan websites, everyone knows those,” you try to act nonchalant as if this isn’t the most todoroki has opened up to you without freezing you out after and he chuckles at your bluntness— tapping his nose.

“but aren’t they more sincere when they’re coming from me?” shouto asks, you can’t tell if he’s being genuine or not— you can’t decipher him at all, it’s like walking through a snowstorm with no clue which way you’re going. his mouth opens and closes as he strums idly, debating on the right words to say without creating a catalyst between you again. “i wanted to apologise,” he begins in a low voice, not looking at you, winter eyes locked away. “for what i said to you earlier, it was harsh and uncalled for. especially with what hawks told me. i know saying sorry doesn’t make it right but i truly mean it.”

your icy heart shakes in your chest, rattling against your ribcage— todoroki, apologising. it melts the outer shell of your heart, warms you up just a touch and you feel the words pouring out of your mouth before you can stop them. “i’m sorry too. you were a little harsh, but right about most things. i’ve failed at most things more than i succeeded and being stuck in one place made me take it out on you,” you take a deep breath and squeeze his arm. “and for that i’m sorry, for putting my disappointments onto you.”

“don’t be disappointed in yourself, you’re not an idol but you’re still in the industry— that in itself is hard enough,” todoroki whispers, squeezing you back in a weird expression of forgiveness.

a melody fills the air, tangled with his perfect soft voice as it dances perfectly with the chords from his guitar— your body sinks into his, relaxing with every sweet note escaping from todoroki’s perfect lips, taking you away from the raging storm outside, bringing you to somewhere warmer, safer.

“what’s your song about?”

“my fans,” todoroki says instantly, continuing to strum his fingers against the strings on his guitar. “my thankfulness towards them. i know that i lack sometimes, that i seem lazy and cold but i do love them. i didn’t want to be an idol, i joined hawks’ company to be a singer and ended up a part of a team.” the song climaxes as your gazes lock, not like any times before where they were full of animosity. this time, they’re tender, gentle. “i can’t let them down, not when they’ve helped me grow so much.”

you sit up, facing the opposite of todoroki as you struggle with your words— realising he’s completely different to the man you hated in your head. “i misjudged you, you’re so good to your fans and team. i’m sure that they love you.”

he only shakes his head fondly, still continuing to fill the space between you with his gentle spoken and meaningful lyrics— pulling you into him like an invisible force of gravity, grabbing you by the shoulders in a warm embrace against the cold frosty weather outside. your skin tingles, hot to the touch as your eyes mirror todoroki’s hooded ones, drawn in by each of his angelic notes while he shows off his vocalist skills. he serenades you, wraps you in all that is him, truly him and before you know it— you’re blindly leaning into the calm storm of shouto todoroki, lips falling against his as the strumming slows until it stops, guitar cast to side as you kiss for the first time.

it’s barely there at first, all most non-existent as your lips glide along todoroki’s— they’re softer than you anticipated, glossed and balmy as they move with your own in delicate lip lock. he’s heated, warmer too as his hands let go of the guitar to cup the curve of your face, tilt it upwards so he can reach deeper into your soul and pour his passion you thought he didn’t have into you. on the contrary, his hands are rough and not perfect like you’d thought, not like the rest of him— his fingertips digging into your cheeks are rough from playing guitar, calloused from what seems like years of practice as he drags you by the waist into his lap to kiss you more, tease you more.

your noses are pressed together, bumping every time you separate for air— chests getting ragged the more your lips touch and tongues slide over their chapped surfaces, your body flames with something new. how does he make you feel like this? your burning hatred simmering on its stove into something sweeter, loving and lustful as todoroki’s tongue is heavy in your mouth but in the nice kind of way, drooling against your own tongue as the kiss becomes more passionate, becomes hungrier like there’s a ravenousness you both have for one another, to be closer and show your true feelings.

“w-what...what are we doing?” you sigh breathlessly, body blossoming and unwinding under shouto’s touch that sears straight through the layers of his clothes that you wear— fingerprints burning your skin at your waist. a blush fans across todoroki’s nose and cheeks, pink and a few shades lighter than his hair as he licks into your mouth with wanton, tugging you this way and that as if your bodies could get any closer. they can’t, it’s impossible but he doesn’t care— angling your head upwards so he can lick at the honey strands of saliva hanging from the roof of your mouth to sedate himself, your sweetness trickling down against his tongue— making his eyes cross and his whole body shake just from kissing you. from kissing you. “s-shouto! what are we—?”

you gasp as he nips your bottom lip, slowly pulling the flesh away from you before pushing you onto your back— following you down and swallowing your nerves whole when your lips meet again, sticky from the spit you’ve swapped, glazed in your honey. “apologising,” he says finally, his own breathing ragged because of you. you have this effect on him. “let me show you how well and truly sorry i am.”

your mind is as frenzied as the snow drowning the city outside when your back hits the blanketed floor, the slopes of todoroki’s face above you are illuminated by warm candle light— burning your insides, leaving you content, leaving you weightless while he toys with the hem of your clothes— stormy eyes searching your own face for consent. you can’t even speak, thoughts racing through your mind, questioning everything. is this truly how he felt about you while you forced your resentment towards him? hated him while he searched for a hand through the blizzard? shouto waits for your word although your body says yes, slipping his hands under your clothes to rub at the flesh of your tummy and sending tingles across the skin.

“okay,” you nod and shouto smiles, so beautifully like a beacon of light amidst the dark stormy sky— you nod again and he tucks his red and white mop of hair against your neck, lips ascending on it thoughtfully, without leaving marks since both of you could get into trouble with the company— but they’re wet on your skin, shivers jumping down the junctions of your spine while shouto’s tongue, hot on your icy flesh licks from your collar bones up to your jugular and ends the shimmering trail of where your neck meets your chin.

how can you imagine what the cold outside feels like when the idol’s large body presses feverishly into yours? you feel his burning desire for him even through the layers of clothes you have on, you let his large palms knead your flesh and push at the expensive fabrics just to feel you more and more. goosebumps rising across your skin at the exposure to cold are are quickly erased by todoroki’s warmth and wherever he touches you, moving down to press kisses along your stomach the more he reveals to the world, helping you sit up to tug off the countless shirts and hoodies you wear once they reach your neck. your chest is his next target, wet tongue dragged from the cliffs of your collar bones to your nipples at attention, calling to him. “you’re so pretty,” he rasps, head laying on your chest, hair tickling your now naked skin and fingertips running up and down your sides. “you’ve always been so pretty, even when you were mad at me, even more so when you were smiling.”

you shudder under his breath that cascades over your skin. “i wonder how you’ll look,” todoroki says, lids growing heavy just by watching you and waiting for your reactions. “when i touch you the way you want, when you give into your deepest desires,” his fingers crawl across your chest to pinch at your nipples, smiling against you when you gasp and choke on air. “when you give in to me,” there’s a husky echo to his voice that you feel vibrate and shoot to your core— distracting you only momentarily from the feeling of his lips encapsulating your right nipple, rolling the hardened bud between rows of perfect teeth. he grunts, large hands spanning out against your stomach when you arch your back into his mouth, pushing you back down onto your makeshift sea of blankets. your face twists in a mix of pleasure and agony— forcing you to lay in place and take what he gives. “patience love, let me take my time with you. we have a lot to make up for,”

“shou—“ you grumble, body flashing with heat that wards off the snowy cold, face even hotter when the dual haired idol pulls away from your saliva slicked chest with wet lips and a haze in your eyes. “please shouto, please—!” you don’t even know what it is that you’re asking for, perhaps begging for his forgiveness so that he’ll touch you, give you more than just his tongue against your ribcage when you arch your back or his lips on your sternum. you need his touch where the fire is brightest, where your need for him is strongest. “shouto!”

“my name on your lips,” he coos quietly, mouth rolling over your unattended nipple while his hand toys with the abandoned one. “do you have any idea what it does to me?” todoroki lays between your parted thighs, pushing his obvious erection right up against the meat of them, causing a whimper to tear in your throat. you’re hit with the realisation that you never really say his name, only a combination of foul words and nicknames when you address him. “i wonder what you’ll sound like when i tend to you between these thighs, make you feel good down there.”

your entire body jolts at his words, thighs locking at the base of his spine, trapping his body against you and todoroki smirks with red cheeks and misted eyes— liking the effect he has on you. “i-if you get to touch me down there, t-then i get to do the same for you,” you’re adamant in what you say, hips lifting to bump against his swelling cock until he falters above you. “right?”

“how could i say no to that?” todoroki grins and you miss his crackle of heat against your body as he pulls back to yank off his shirt, hair flying out of place and milky skin painted with the flavours of a rose once his head pops through. both of your pants go next, todoroki taking his time as he pulls them off of you leg by leg, kissing up from your ankles to your thighs before allowing you to throw his off too. your underwear goes on the same breath.

and then there you are, naked and chest to chest— looking at each other dazed with your ice hearts banging against the ribs in your chest like the shutters against the windows because of the wind. yet the world seems quiet, completely stilled as your hands hesitantly cup the idol’s face to bush hair out of his blue-grey eyes, your frozen heart melting when he leans into your palm.

“why so quiet?” he asks you, voice barely above a whisper. “nervous?”

“no.” you say, thumb brushing his cheek.

his eyes flutter shut. “then what?”

“you’re just so beautiful…”

lips are on yours before you can take a second breath, he’s overwhelming your senses yet again— filling your void like the city is filled with snow while his hands dart between your trembling soft thighs, pinching them and teasing them apart until he’s pressed up right against your sex, already so wet and sticky for him. he growls lowly, rough padded finger swirling around your entrance, threading your slick between them and he laughs lightly at just how turned on you are—before he’s even touched you.

“s-shouto!”

“shhh, pretty one. wait a second, promise I’ll make you feel good, okay?” he says pushing his lips onto a mocking pout as your eyes brim with liquid silver— tears gathering in your lashes while your hands search for something to ground yourself, latching onto shouto’s bicep as he eases a single finger past your entrance, curling against your slippery inner walls.

crescent moons break against snowy skin, leaving red tracks in place while pushing another finger alongside the first, marvelling at the hot, manuka honey mess growing between your plush thighs— your hole is resisting around shouto’s thick digits, the blunt tips pressing against the sensitive spots along your insides causing squelching sounds to echo along the hotel walls, as marvellous and sinful as any one of todoroki’s songs. the way you yowl so desperately the more he explores you, the more eager todoroki is to please you— realising with the growing weight of lust lodging itself into his chest, that he would do anything for you. he would clear skies of their thunder clouds, brush away a hurricane for you until you could breach the clouds and see the stars— the ones you could just barely touch with your own two hands.

“there you go sweetheart, take it, just like that,” your cute little sex sucks his fingers in so well, dripping thick waves of your sweet nectar down them, gathering in his palm before he thrusts them, sendin you travelling up the blankets gathered on the floor— your eyes rolling and thighs squeezing around his wrist, locking him between them so he can keep bringing you this brand new, blinding pleasure that makes your tummy bubble.

you’re like a snowflake, melting underneath todoroki as he pumps his fingers in and out of your slick, tight little hole— your chest rises and falls with the flick of a candle, ropes of saliva caught on the roof of your mouth, tongue bursting over the seams of your lips as he prepares you for his taking, like a ripening fruit so fresh and juicy all for him. you’re so cute beneath him, a sweet little mess for him to clean up and ruin all over again— he can’t help it, barely fighting the urge to kiss you once again and swallow the airy moans that slip out of you with every twist of his fingers and brush of their tips against your pleasure spots. if you are the snow then todoroki is the blistering sun, sending his sunlight through your bloodstream, hot with the pure ecstasy— bringing you closer and closer, building it high in slow stacks until your limbs are trembling underneath the weight.

in the mess of limbs and locked lips you manage to slip your hand between your heated bodies, grinning against shouto’s mouth when his cock jumps at your simple touch— gasping his cock you get a feel for the weight of him, he makes up for length where he lacks thickness, clean as they come and incredibly hard while his tip drools into your soft palm, milky white staining your skin as you begin to jerk todoroki off. he hisses into the wet cavern of your mouth, chest bristling contently against your own, he likes what you do to him, how the softness of your hand sneds sparks of dopamine across his brain—causes his hips to jut forward ever so softly, smearing more of his pre against your skin. the pair of you shudder, playing with one another to the melody of your sweet whines and whimpers and your eyes drop to where you’re joined, hands glistening with evidence of your arousals and drool pools on the palette of your tongue just admiring todoroki’s crystal cut body and pink flushed face, his lips as he pulls away from you— kiss swollen and cherry licorice red.

he’s the one melting now, weak and like putty in your hands as you first his cock, his tip a shade of red as bright as his hair…but even still, todoroki doesn’t let up— continuing to pump his fingers against your velvet lined walls and bearing them down on the pleasure spot that increases the shake in your doughy thighs. todoroki’s cock leaks so much your hands slip and slide over him, creating the perfect fleshlight for him to fuck the more his hips buck forward into your closed hand. “f-fuck, sweetheart,” his breath stutters, caught in the ridges of his throat when you begin to thumb at his tip, movement guided by the hick globs of precum that bead there. you don't’ dare to stop pleasuring the idol, feeling pride swell in your chest to see a man of his caliber fall down a few pegs, the way he feels att the mercy of your talented hands.

“you like that shou?” you inquire, panting between your slurred words as wet sounds cut through the blizzard, your bodies grinding against one another— your fingers playing with one another and you’re sure the mess of sheets and blankets and clothes below are stained with the mixes of your arousals and teasers of your release and your hand slips further down between you both to grip at shouto’s balls, heavy with a load of cum and all for you. he flicks his wrist, harder, faster in return as you mutually bring each other one step closer to release—barely clinging onto the edge of your peaks.

cheeks practically glowing a shade of rose in the dark, todoroki drops his head to your neck— the strokes of his fingers against your pleasure spot becoming lazy but even more frequent, desperate to make you as close as he is. “‘m gonna cum f’you,” todoroki admits through the growls that reverberate between you both, lewdly fucking your fist as if itt was your tight sex. ”gonna fuckin’ cum, don’t stop okay? cum for me, cum with me,” he grows more and more demanding, but his body and voice tremble with neediness.

“cum shou, with me. please!” you beg, finding yourself in the exact same sate, practically falling apart on his fingers, the pleasure that had been building within you toppling over at the same time as todoroki falls off the edge into an earth shattering high. neither of you stop, let up as your releases splash out and paint one another, his cock twitching in your grip and staining your knuckles white with his hot seed. he mewls into your neck and you cry into the frosty air, orgasm trickling down shouto’s thick fingers and pooling between your fleshy asscheeks, leaving you both struggling and gasping for air.

it doesn't take long for todoroki to be at your neck again, gently nipping at the flesh while you come to. “‘m going to give you my cock now, okay sweetheart? you’ll be able to take it, right?” he questions you, peppering smooches along your neckline, wet and sloppy as he goes.

“uhuh,i-i’m ready,” you slur over the saliva in your mouth, mind pleasantly fuzzy as todoroki manhandles you into the position to take his cock just the way he wants, keeping you on your back, he uses a knee to spread you open again by the meat of your thighs— taking ahold of his dripping dick before he slaps it against your soaked hole a few times, moaning deep at the salacious, sticky sounds your sexes make as he grinds against you, already easing his bulbous tip past your entrance. he can’t help but chuckle huskily att the way your hole sucks him in so good, clenching around him as if to trap him inside— he fucks you with just the tip at first, watching you writhe and raise your hips as if asking for more. “c’mon, don’t tease!”

“patience baby, just like i told you before,” todoroki hums in amusement, caging you in as he thrusts all the way in, reaching the hilt and bottoming out inside of you. while the idol enjoys finally having his cock wrapped up in the warmth of your sloppy and sensitive insides— he finds the strength within himself to pull out of your adorably selfish hole to start a a deep and sensual pace, dragging his seed bleeding ip along your insides, setting a steady stream of thrusts that hit so deep you feel him in your guts. the force of his hips rolling into yours pulls pathetic bleats from between your wet and kiss swollen lips, your hands finding purchase on the hairs that sit on the nape of todoroki’s neck while you let him overrule your body, taking it over— mind, body and soul.

how could you have ever hated him so passionately, when he looks down at you like you’re a safe space in a storm? looks down at you with cool toned eyes that speak volumes of admiration. there are so many feelings in todoroki’s eyes and you uncover more with each rut of his hips into yours, creamy and lewd, the length of him leaving you completely filled as he moulds your insides into his shape. “y-you’re so good,” you tell him earnestly, struggling to catch your breath over his intensity and weakly lift your hips to match his rhythm, clenching around every ridge and vein of todoroki’s lengthy girth as it pushes and pulls at your spongy insides and bumps against pleasure spots you didn’t even know you had. “f-fuck you feel s’good, shouto!”

smiling down at you dopily, heart vulnerable and on his sleeve, shouto grips at your hips— working himself deeper inside your fluttering hole and stretching you out all for him. he wants you to forget any pain he’s caused you, erase anything horrible he’d ever said to you that replays in your mind because in reality, shouto todoroki adores you and every ounce of drive that he has and your praise makes him want to feel worthy of it, makes him want you to see the stars through the murky grey skies. there’s this same sense of adoration written behind his touches as todoroki guides your hips to move along with his, both of you moving in sync, bodies harmonising like a beautifully written song while he splits you open on his cock, having you ooze nectar down his shaft as it drips down to his heavy balls and ruins he clothes and sheets and blankets beneath you both. he fucks you hard just to show you how he really feels, what he didn’t get to say while you were both too busy hating each other to see the truth. you want his good, his bad, his scared and his safe all at once, and shouto is determined to give it to you, balls deep inside your creamy sex.

“sweetheart, y-you’re such a pretty little thing for me, making such a mess on my cock and a mess of my heart. aren’t i a lucky man?” the idol coos to you endearingly, hiking your leg over his broad set shoulders so he can press his body hotly against yours until you’re chest to chest and there’s barely any space between you, compressing the blizzard of emotions beginning to rage between you both. greed and desire spread like frost on a window pane along your skin as it meets in rhythmic claps, balls hitting the curve of your fleshy ass. “to have you like this, god i’m so fucking lucky,” shouto’s voice is tight in his throat as he takes you over and over again, your fingers losing their grip in his split dyed hair and your core locking around his dick at his praise, offering the idol no escape from being inside you. liquid arousal, clear and and sweat rolls in waves down your thighs, sticking to his pelvis while you choke his girth and pull more precum from the slit on his tip.

it smears along your insides, making everything honeyed and gooey every time todoroki jackhammers against that spongy spot deep inside you. “i’m the lucky one..” you babble mindlessly, arousal heightening with the temperatures of your bodies as they work with one another to reach cloud nine— hot enough to melt an iceberg. “get to see your eyes, your darlin’ eyes as you fuck me so good,” you have no idea what you’resaying, high off of the ecstasy that exudes from your pores, all because of him.

embarrassed, flustered and with new found vigor, todoroki swoops down to capture your lips an iron hot kiss— tasting the sweat gathered on your cupids bow and searching the mess beneath you both for your hand that had once been lost in his hair. your fingers slot together perfectly, just like he does between your trembling and achy thighs, and todoroki gives your hand a squeeze— lovingly, softly. “shut up,” he mumbles against your bruised and cherry bitten li-ps, fighting a grin when your strawberry tongue rolls against his own, memorising the taste of his mouth. “let me make you feel good, let me apologise.” he wants to make you cum, see the life pulse in your eyes while he ruins you on his cock for all the wrongs he’s ever committed against you.

there’s a possible blizzard outside but shouto todoroki’s never felt safer than he has, a tangled mess with you— fucking you raw, making love to you and soiling your coreunttil your screams of his names echo into the hotel room. you’re so beautiful under the candle light, lips parted and lashes against your cheeks and if he could he would give up everything, even being an idol to see you like this again. so he pushes his creamy dick into you deeper, deeper, as far as it’ll go until your back arches off of the floor and you’re keening into his sun-like touch as if you’re craving his warmth. something akin to love, closer to fondness bleeds into the air, intertwined intricately with unadulterated emotion as todoroki grinds his cock into you, angling it into that special place inside of your sex that makes your brain ttingle with serotonin and dopamine and everything in between while your toes curl and your fingers clench.

incoherent praises are whispered into the bruises on your collarbones that you both know todoroki isn’t allowed to leave, but neither of you can find it in you to care— walking the fine line between sanity and losing your mind as the knots in your stomach begin to unwind and loosen themselves. “‘m sorry,” he mumbles, not knowing if it's for the deep blues and purples blossoming under your skin or if it’s for how he treated you in the past, slamming his cock into your tight hole over and over again as you gush and leak about the place. “‘m sorry, i-i’m—”

“hush,” you cup todoroki’s face, tears of lust clumped in your lashes again and he feels the snow storm wrapped around his heart calming, both of you so deep in your own cloud of vulnerability to notice the weather taming itself outside. “i-it’s okay, you’ve made it up t’me. l-let it…let it go now,” shouto can only nod weakly, fighting back the whine of relief bubbling up on his lips. that’s all he needs to hear before he’s chasing both of your releases, running through the storm of emotions for them as his tip nudges against your pleasure spot over and over, the pace of his hips becoming inconistent and skittish, moans rising in octave with every step you take closer to release.

“cum for me sweetheart, let go with me,” shouto whispers, squeezing your hand as your dam finally breaks and your release floods from your body. the world of white flashes behind your eyes, arousal coursing through your veins as you cry todoroki’s name with all your might, sobbing through your aftershocks as you succumb to the twitching and the pleasure— painting his tummy with your cum. todoroki follows suit, quickly pulling out of your spasming hole and collapsing against you, rutting his cock into the soft flesh of your tummy, curse words a plenty spilling from his hot mouth— licked into your neck by his tongue before hot stripes of his seed land on your sweaty skin one after the other, potent and milky and glueing you both together before exhaustion settles into your bones and his body gives out above yours completely— shouto managing to roll to the side before he squashes you.

your first instinct is to giggle, loud and carefree when both you come down— your fingers drawing little shapes and patterns into shouto’s freckled shoulder. “that was nice,” you say with a tiny smile, meeting his content eyes. “real nice. where’d you learn to do all that?”

“i’m an idol, sweetheart, not a nun. just because we have no dating policies doesn’t mean we can’t get around,” todoroki explains to you and plucks your hand from his shoulder, interlacing your fingers lazily. “but i’m sure hawks wouldn’t mind making an exception for his favourite employees.”

“oh stop! he’ll have to with the bruises you left on me!” you laugh again but let the peppermint haired idol pull away from you with a kiss so he can clean you up, heading to the bathroom in search of a warm cloth and soap safe for sensitive skin. he washes you up quickly but carefully, taking care of your tender spots and kissing each mark he’s made ( eventually letting you do the same ) before he’s got you wrapped up in his arms again— naked amongst the sheets you’d laid on the floor.

there’s a question on the tip of your tongue and one lodged in todoroki’s throat but neither of you have time to ask if for muffled voices echo on the other side of the door— the lights of the hotel room flickering back on at the wrong time.

“bakugou! calm down!”

“don’t tell him to calm down, midoriya, you’ll only make it worse!”

“like you’re any better denki!”

“can it, sero.”

“hey that’s not very nice you guys—“

“will all of you numbskulls shut the fuck up?” bakugou interjects the group’s bickering, tapping a keycard against todoroki’s hotel room door before he kicks it open without stopping to look at the scene laid out before him. “all of you dipshits are fuckin’ useless, ya hear? ‘n you can tell that to your shitty manager hawks too—“

kirishima notices first, face turning as red as his hair before the other boys follow his gaze and react in the same way. “uh...bakugou?”

“what? shitty hair?” the blonde snaps back, following kirishima’s finger that points to a very naked todoroki and a very very naked ( also bruised ) you. “holy fuck—“

todoroki’s cheeks redden as he throws a blanket over your head to protect your last shred of decency— glaring at the other members in his idol to turn their heads away out of respect, but it’s far too late for any of that now. “don’t you dare tell hawks.” he mumbles bashfully.

“i’ll make sure you get the ugly makeup concepts for an entire month!” you squeak.

katsuki’s face looks like an awful cross between throwing up and committing homicide but instead pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales deeply.

“put some fuckin’ clothes on, i didn’t get these idiots and i driven out here through the last of the snow to see your dick hangin’ our half ‘n half,” he growls, still grossed out. “there’s an hour left till showtime s’let’s get goin’! and charge your fuckin’ phones next time. ever heard of a portable charger?”

you take the scolding from bakugou and leap up to get dressed as soon as he and the other boys are gone, todoroki makes you a promise to talk about what you two are and what you mean to each other after the jingle ball performance but yourself and most of the fierce wings staff ( including hawks himself ) seem to have a pretty good idea already, since you turn up to the venue dressed in shouto’s closed— the red and white haired idol practically latched onto your side, a scary and unusual sight for all parties involved.

however everyone’s suspicions are completely confirmed when todoroki sneaks a good luck kiss from you, just before XHEROEZ head on stage to blow New York City away.

in the end, the snow manages to calm down enough for everyone to perform— the fans gathered inside madison square garden for the night of their lives. todoroki is rushed into hair and makeup, but his eyes don’t leave you the entire time— a new sense of pride and adoration for you running through his veins before the members of XHEROEZ stumble onto the stage and give the world their all.

and for the first time, you don’t feel an ounce of regret— you don’t feel weighted down by the burden you put on yourself, reminded that you are not a failure even if you didn’t quite make it to the top.

you made it here, you’re by his side— supporting those who reached your dream from the sidelines and you realise that’s enough.

todoroki dedicates the last song of the XHEROEZ set to someone special, someone with your name that he doesn’t expose to the crowd but you can tell it’s for you by the way his mop of red and white hair tilts back towards the stage and his cool blue eye drops into a lazy wink— making your heart race.

not all dreams come true and not all attempts to make them do so are failures. you decide you’ll help todoroki touch the stars and have a taste for the milky way — carrying out his dream together, hand in hand.

[freifraufischer]

Gymcastic and their Friends

I thought it was worth talking a bit about how the Gymcastic white wash of the show’s friends is a broader problem then UCLA and Miss Val but also extends to other people in the gymnastics community that have been “friends of the show” before.

For those unfamiliar, Gymcastic is an artistic gymnastics specific podcast that is celebrating it’s 10th anniversary this month having started up just afte the 2012 Olympic Games.  Originally it was a panel show format hosted by a law librarian named Jessica O’Beirne, over time panelists cycled in and out as is natural for a project lasting this long and today it is primarily Jessica, Spencer Barnes (who also runs the website The Balance Beam Situation) and occasionally contributions from a self taught MAG specialist Kensley Behel.  Jessica was laid off during the pandemic and has moved to making Gymcastic her full time job.  They travel to meets including the Worlds and Olympic Games where they get press credentials and at 2021 Worlds in Japan they made up more than half of all foreign press at the meet (if they call themselves press or journalists depends on if you are criticizing their journalistic standards).

Gymnastics is a small community where everyone knows each other, there are often professional conflicts of interests and have to be friendly with people in order to get information.  An example I’d give is that Tim Daggett owns a gym while being a commentator for NBC and he has several times had athletes on the floor of meets he was commentating.  Nastia Liukin, the other NBC expert commentator is the daughter of one of the most prominent coaches in the US and was commentating through when her father was running the US program and continues to commentate on his athletes with very obvious personal bias.

Gymcastic’s most famous missteps involve the former UCLA head coach Valorie Kondos Field when a number of her former athletes came forward with stories about her mistreatment of them during the #GymnastAlliance movement following the release of Athlete A.  Jessica’s husband (who works behind the scenes for the show) had co-written Miss Val’s book and Jessica had special access to the UCLA program (even acting as a guest judge at a pre-season exhebition one year).  She handled it badly essentially implying that the gymnasts speaking out against Miss Val were mistaken in their impressions of her.  Though she apologized for the incident the next week many didn’t find the apology sincere and she’s avoided addressing other Miss Val related issues by citing a conflict of interest.  

Now I’d like to highlight two other issues that are pervasive in the show’s coverage.  

1) Precision Choreography (and MyGymJudge).  Precision is a gymnastics consulting firm which provides choreography services, camps, and through a subdivision MyGymJudge provides judging critiques to gymnasts at all levels including elite.  The company is owned by Chellsie Memmel and Nicole Langevin (Langevin also hosts a podcast of her own interviewing gymnastics insiders which I also have opinions about but that’s for another time).  They have heavily sponsored Gymcastic over the years and despite the fact that the show likes to highlight conflicts of interest within USAG has never looked at the tentacles of Precision (which besides being owned by one of the US programs 3 high performance leads also employs one of the others).  They also have, at least to my memory, never given a note before interviews with Memmel or talking about her of her company’s support for the show.

I continue to believe that if Precision Choreography were being run by a figure less popular than Memmel it would draw a great deal of suspicion.  It’s not the most corrupt looking structure in American elite gymnastics on the surface but that’s only because the International Elite Committee exists.

2) The Fairy Tale of Greg Marsden and 1987 Worlds.  Greg Marsden is the now retired long time head coach of the University of Utah team.  Incredibly successful in the early years of college women’s gymnastics and a master at building up a fanbase around the school.  He is also opinionated and a bit of a drama queen and shit stirrer.  And Gymcastic loves him.  

One of the stories they repeat quite frequently (and use to justify telling people that gymnastics in the 1980s was incredibly corrupt) is a story about how Greg Marsden was asked to coach the US women’s team at 1987 Worlds.  As Jessica tells the story he was invited to a party there where he saw judges and federation officials trading scores and was so disgusted with the corruption that he quit and didn’t want to have anything to do with elite gymnastics again.  

Except that’s not what happened even by his own words in 1988 and the only other place besides Gymcastic that you will hear that version is the local Mormon press around the University of Utah.

Marsden quit the job at the US team for a number of bureaucratic and organizational reasons and on his way out the door told the LA Times in the spring of 1988 his version of this story.  He was approached in a bar by a Romanian coach (who denied the incident occurred) who proposed that they swap score assurances.  Score fixing in the 1980s is slightly complicated but essentially if your gymnast might et a 9.5 or a 9.7 the agreement would be to get the upper range of the plausible score.  Marsden says he got the other members of the US delegation to agree (who also denied this to the LA Times) but the scheme fell apart because the US gymnasts falls meant that they couldn’t be plausibly given the agreed upon scores.  They weren’t good enough to plausibly cheat.

Having investigated this in historical documents I suspect that the Romanian coach saw Marsden as a rube, knew the Americans couldn’t possibly get those scores in the first place and got a safety net for his own gymnasts without having to worry about returning the favor.  Not only do we have Marsden’s own words to the LA Times but there were other journalistic accounts of this from the time which conform to this version of events (including an amazing article from Rolling Stone).  

But Marsden is someone who is portrayed as a friend of the show (they occasionally will ask him questions as if they know he’s in the listening audience and can email them later).  His marriage to one of his own gymnasts in the early 1980s is laughed off as being a product of it’s time (and he’s still married to her for the record).  He’ll also be framed in their narratives as an advocate for reform within the NCAA rules, even being given credit for the recent edition of vault lines as something he’s wanted for years, while also being described as skipping the rules meetings in the off season where these things are decided.

I can’t help but feel like in the cases of Miss Val, Memmel, and Marsden there is a certain amount of hero worship on the part of Jessica.  These were people who were huge figures in the sport when she was younger (and at least in Memmel’s case when she was a gymnastics coach briefly) and she is simply incapable of taking a step back and examining the mythology attached to these people. 

But that’s what happens when you decide that feelings are more important than anything else.

[scotianostra]

On July 10th  1451 James III King of Scots was born in St Andrews, Fife, son of King James II and Mary of Gueldres.

A bit of a messy reign this one had, but not completely his fault. His father, James II, died when he was nine. This naturally guaranteed a power struggle between his guardians. For a while, a council ruled by his mother, Mary of Gueldres, and Bishop James Kennedy ruled, but they were also into playing games with the English. Civil war in the south allowed them to bargain back Berwick, thereby annoying Edward IV of England.

Then when he was 13 and both his mother and the bishop had died, James III was abducted by the brothers Boyd, one of whom, Sir Alexander Boyd, was Keeper of Edinburgh Castle and instructor in chivalric matters to the youth. James' reign finally began about 1469, after he married Margaret, daughter of Christian I of Denmark. One Boyd was executed, the other exiled.

The poor boy's troubles continued, with two adult brothers and their respective camp followers to hassle him. One died in his bath, in which he was being bled, at that time a supposed cure for various ailments. He was also in James' custody at that time, being accused of being involved with witches and warlocks. The other brother was Alexander, Duke of Albany, who was a right pain. He was also in custody for a while for the same reason as his brother, but escaped to France to continue his claims to the throne.

Trouble with England broke out again, over various border raids. Edward IV began to support Albany. James might have coped with all of this, but his nobles had other, less loyal plans. They were less than supportive for various reason, one major one being the company which James was keeping; artists, musicians, lower levels in other words than themselves.

Some of James' friends were lynched by the nobles, James was a prisoner in Edinburgh, and Albany moved into Edinburgh with his English friends. The wheeling and dealing began, ending with James being set free, and Albany regaining his lands, at least until James outplayed him and sent him back to exile. In England, Henry VII emerged the winner from their turmoils, and settled peaceably with James. Peace in Scotland however was bad news for the greedy graspers in the wild, wild, borders area, and trouble started all over again.

Eventually James III, with northern followers, met the Border lairds, led by his 15-year-old son James. At the battle of Sauchieburn, three miles south-west of Stirling, on 11th June 1488, the son emerged the victor. James III was found dead the next morning near Bannockburn, having escaped from the battle site. Dirty deeds had been done. The son, soon to be James IV, felt guilt all his life about the death of his father, wearing a metal chain round his body as penance.

[issaxcharlie]

We say we're friends, we play pretend (1/2)

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Fem reader

Summary: Charlie and Y/N were best friends and a couple as teens, after their breakup they meet again 4 years later on the bootcamp of JATP and have to work together. Will something else happen or they are just friends?

Charlie must have imagined something like this could happen. Since Kenny discovered her 5 years ago, she has been a really close friend to the director, participating in some way or another in almost all his projects.

In front of him after years, Y/N Y/L, his childhood best friend and ex-girlfriend. The young actor is not going to admit that he saw every single one of her projects or how moved he was by her in each one of them, many times even thinking of maybe sending her a little message saying the incredible job she did.

But he never found the courage.

It’s weird to remember how he spent most of his life next to the woman, now one of the top youth artists with multiple musicals and movies on her hits list. They always had a strong bond, every single day together. Sleepovers, music classes, dancing classes, homework, parties, movie nights, hockey, illness days, pretty much everything. At the age of 15 they began a very sweet and innocent relationship that ended at 18 when Y/N moved to New York to work in her first leading role.

The break up was on good terms but painful, so painful that both preferred to lose contact completely than to have the other from time to time opening the wound again and again.

And there she was. As beautifil as ever, speaking happily with Kenny while Madison and Owen jump up and down, Jeremy smiles and Charlie looks like he wants to throw up.

“Y/N Y/L, my golden star. She is the official composer of the soundtrack, and she will be supporting you throughout the album process as well as helping Paul and me in other creative aspects, I know she is the same age as some of you but she has a lot of experience in this and all the necessary preparation so don't hesitate to get all the knowledge you can out of her."

Everyone introduces themselves until the guitarist is the only one left, luckily for him, he’s in voice rest these two weeks so he literally cannot speak.

They both look nervous but the moment their eyes meet their complicity comes out and both smile slightly.

“He’s Charlie, he is in voice rest but we are fans of yours. We cried yesterday watching your last musical, it was just brilliant." Owen lets out hardly breathing, Y/N turns with a smile to see the Canadian boy who wants to kill his friend and then commit suicide.

“Thank you! This is going to be such an interesting experience.” The singer murmurs as she winks at Charlie.

2 hours later they had both been avoiding each other, Y/N writing in a corner while the band and Kenny discuss costumes with Soyon, in which at least half an hour has been wasted trying to understand what Charlie is trying to say with the few words he writes with an apple pencil on his ipad in his horrible handwritting.

Y/N gets frustrated and goes to where they are, approaching behind Charlie's shoulder to see the iPad. She quickly identifies the two words, one so crossed out that it looks like a doodle, but years copying each other's homework pays off.

"He's trying to say that if Luke isn't going to wear bandanas, at least consider wearing beanies." The young woman says as she leans on the shoulder of who was her first love.

Charlie freezes at their proximity, blushing a little at the feeling of being close after so long. Luckily his castmates don't realize it because all their attention is on her.

“You are just good for everything huh? Even deciphering hieroglyphs." Owen comments, smiling at her and winking exaggeratedly to make her laugh.

Charlie can't help but feel insecure with the situation. It could be a friendly thing but If Owen really tries to flirt with her, he doesn't know how he would react. Is sad enough not having her in his life anymore, having her as his best friend's girlfriend would just be too painful.

Now, he knows he’s exaggerating, and a lot. But he has to do something about it. Better safe than sorry.

He stretches his neck to meet the eyes of his ex-girlfriend, who is now only inches away. She quickly gets flustered, but hides it pretty well. The problem is that he knows every gesture perfectly and sees through her mask.

“Wh- What, Gillespie?” She manages to say, Charlie can’t help a smile seeing the way she still reacts towards him.

When you know a person completely, every facet, every gesture, every peculiarity, speaking without words is as natural as breathing. And they had both forgotten how amazing it feels to have someone in your life who is this compatible and magnetic.

They start a conversation, she answers to who secretly still believes as her person while he continues making gestures and mimics that no one else understands, writing a word from time to time to make the talk flow better.

"I know. Hey, it's not my fault! So you excuse yourself with the ‘can't talk’ thing huh? how convenient. Yeah, Ok, I will. I said I will!" Her words are the only thing that they manage to get out of the conversation that the secret ex-couple is having, since no matter how much attention they pay to him, they have no idea how Y/N manages to decipher it.

"I have no idea what's going on but I'll take it as a miracle, I was just going to suggest ignoring Charlie these 2 weeks." Jeremy jokes, everyone nods their heads.

“I mean, it’s still a good option.” Madison replies.

The 14 days go by quickly, and with the former couple spending time together daily, rehearsing Charlie's guitar solos together, with Y/N translating his horrible scribbles, or sometimes simply being close to each other enjoying the company, absentmindedly placing their hand on the other's leg or their forehead on their shoulder for a few seconds during the breaks.

Basically the whole team has noticed the flirtatious smiles and the looks, but Charlie was the weakest rival of both and the one who could release some information about it, and without being able to speak they basically ran out of an informant, since the young singer didn’t let go a word about her unexpected chemistry with the guitarist except the typical ‘we are just good friends’.

But without a doubt the energies began to multiply on Monday when Charlie arrived with the green light to be able to speak and start singing in rehearsals. Madison couldn't attend the first few hours because she was at school, so Y/N was going to cover her so the boys could practice.

“The first on the list is Finally Free, the place where we are going to record it only gave us two weeks from now so it will have to be one of the priorities. For the first rehearsal just vibe with the song and we’ll discover where to go from there. Oh, and good luck keeping up with my golden star, you’ll need it."

Y/N starts the first verse on the keyboard, and gets up to sing the chorus in the center, trying to ignore Charlie and looking up at Jeremy. She hadn’t heard him sing for a couple of years, but the same butterflies appear in her stomach and she knows that she will melt if she looks into his eyes.

Unfortunately for her, Kenny doesn't have the same plan, and just before the second verse ends he tells her to walk over to Charlie, who immediately smiles and sings the pre-chorus with much more enthusiasm. The energy they radiate floods the place, both getting closer and closer. By the time the bridge arrives, their foreheads are practically against each other, their lips only an inch apart, and with a confidence and comfort while singing to each other that makes all those who suspected that there was something between them now practically sure.

Luckily there are only Jeremy, Kenny, Owen and Paul in the room, who decide to play a game of divide and conquer now that the snitch part of the equation can speak.

“Y/N, can you come with me for a moment? I have a new idea for ‘Wow’ and a fresh pair of eyes is just what I need.” Paul says, sacrificing himself for the greater good.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll be right back.” The singer takes the opportunity to leave this staring game with Charlie and quickly walks away from the guitarist, who winks at her in a flirting way in response.

The moment they walk out the door, everyone turns to see Charlie, who has no idea what they're up to.

“What?”

"After what just happened you just can't keep pretending nothing's happening. Man, that was more intense than the whole Troyella moments during all three movies." Kenny pretends to be offended for a second and then nods.

"I have never seen anything like this in all my years of career."

“Yeah dude it was electric.” Owen replies, smirking.

“She’s my person.” Charlie mumbles.

If he’s being honest with himself, deep down he always knew she was the only one for him. But that realization was freaking scary. What's next if the only person for you has already turned the page? gave up without a fight? what's left?

"What?" The three ask in unison, and Charles begins to sing like a bird.

“We grew up together and then we lost the way. Like in those romantic movies where just everyone knows they belong together except the childhood best friends and then they end up ruining their lives by being in denial.”

“From what I saw getting back on track shouldn't be too difficult, Charlie. I assure you that whatever you feel she feels it too. Her eyes don’t lie." Jeremy tries to reason with him.

“Leave your teen problems behind. You are old enough to decide what you want and find a way to make it work. But you have to stop pretending that nothing is happening first." Owen scolds his friend.

“Do you love her?” Jer asks.

“That answer is always going to be yes, I just could never stop loving her even If I tried. And I did.” He really did. The surprise he got when the second he had her close to him his heart began to beat like crazy and all he wanted was to hug her and fix everything. It was as if when seeing her eyes time hadn’t passed, as if only the day before they’d been goofing around together. That bond is so big that he doesn’t believe it’s possible to break.

“Then do something about it, bro! Go get your girl back!” Jeremy advises while Kenny smiles.

“Yeah man, it’s ‘Now or never’ like her song, and I guess ours too now? Since she wrote it for Sunset Curve? Well, anyway, it’s like our song says.” Owen exclaims excitedly.

“Ohhh, musical inspiration, let me try. ‘Get up, get out, relight that spark’.” Jeremy sings to Charlie.

“Jer, you are a genius. If you think about it wake up is actually a pretty good soundtrack song for this situation. ‘It's not what you lost, It's what you'll gain raising your voice in the rain’.”

They both keep singing the song until they reach the bridge, Charlie tries to look frustrated but a slight smile escapes his face.

They are right, he still hasn't lost this fight.

👻PART 2 RIGHT HERE