#but instead it's pretty much everyone else?

[vicsbasement]

So, @pitstoptaken sent me a reply with the prompt: Them being university people. They’re not really close, just know each other from friends. But one day things happen like, a 7 minute in heaven or something. “So are you gay or bi or?” // “does it really matter?”

And this came out:

“What’s his deal, anyway?” Carlos wonders, pointing with his head towards a taller guy, one that’s leaning against the wall as he intently stares at his phone. There’s a frown on his pretty features, and Lando isn’t the one to think other men are pretty, but this guy had commanded their attention from across the room. He was pretty.

“Him? Oh, that’s Charles, isn’t it?” Lando nudges Alex with his elbow and Alex nods, smiling happily as George pets his hair. “He’s a Modern Languages student, we go to the same translation theory class.”

Carlos nods along with the explanation, but a frown takes over his face. “So, there’s nothing a guy like me could ever have in common with him, huh.” Carlos muses, and Lando nods, almost solemnly. “Except…”

George places a glass, loudly, on top of the table, and grabs a glass beer bottle and a knife, making them clink and calling the room’s attention.

“Let’s play spin the bottle!” George claims, and the room erupts in equal part groans and laughter. Carlos doesn’t take his eyes off the handsome stranger, that doesn’t seem uninterested, but he couldn’t say he was on board with the idea, either.

“Volunteers can come to the kitchen floor and sit in a circle. Everyone else go back to your own conversations!” George demands, and the room erupts into laughter again, while some people move towards the kitchen.

That’s the moment the stranger looks up and catches Carlos’ stare on him. It must’ve been intense, because his expression was surprised, at first, but then, it turned… mischievous? The light wasn’t helping, though, and Carlos felt a shiver coming on when a trickle of cold sweat went down his spine at the little daring smirk the stranger was shooting his way as he, silently, walked towards George to stand directly behind him. They never broke eye contact. And Carlos tried his best to swallow around the dryness in his mouth.

Alex offered him a bottle, an eyebrow raised at him.

“You might not have to talk much with him, mate.” He joked. Carlos nodded.

Xx

Of course, George rigged the whole thing. And now Carlos is standing awkwardly in the middle of a hallway, catcalls coming from the living room, being ushered by George in the general direction of his bedroom – which of course he knows where it is, but it’s awkward, alright? – with a hand on a certain Charles Leclerc’s wrist.

Charles’ expression is almost unreadable in this light, but just judging by general feel, he doesn’t seem stiff, or nervous, he’s just an almost complete stranger that Carlos pointed out at this party. He walks quickly, still hearing the catcalls and wolf whistles, and takes a left so he can enter George’s room, closing the door behind Charles’ frame with a soft click.

“Who plays seven minutes in heaven anymore?” Charles quips, and Carlos feels caught. If he hadn’t pointed at him earlier tonight none of this would’ve happened, but now it’s too late to back out.

“It’s all George’s idea.” Carlos replies, running a nervous hand through his hair. “It was his plan to get to make out with Alex, but…”

“It landed on us, instead?” Charles wonders, and Carlos can see clearly how his eyes sparkle in the dimly lit room.

Surrounded by Lewis Hamilton posters, the whole scene isn’t how Carlos had imagined it would be, but he straightens his back, nonetheless, taking the leap to sit on the bed. At least he’s going to talk to the guy.

“What’s your name?” Charles wonders, and Carlos can’t help it, he smiles.

“I’m Carlos.” He replies. Charles shakes his head.

“You’re kidding.” Charles says, a bright smile and a soft laugh escaping him.

“No, I’m not, my name is Carlos Sainz—”

“We’re both named the same?” Charles interrupts him, and Carlos nods. He hadn’t thought about it, but there were some friends in this very college that called him Charlie, even.

“I go by Carlitos, though. You go by Charlie, right? I’ve heard Alex mention you.” Carlos says, and Charles nods. “I have some friends back home who called me Charlie, too.” Carlos admits, and Charles grins at him.

“Cats or dogs?” Charles asks him.

“Dogs.” Carlos replies, without thinking. Charles nods, agreeing with him. Then, it’s Carlos’ turn to question him.

“Do you have siblings?”

“Two brothers, I’m in the middle.”

“I’ve got two sisters and I’m in the middle, too.”

“Huh.”

“How old are you?” Carlos wonders, and Charles blushes a bright scarlet.

“I’m just shy of 21. In a month.”

“I just turned 24.”

“So you’re about to graduate?”

“Yeah, engineering. You?”

“I’m in my third year of Modern Languages.” Charles explains, and his phone pings loudly. “Actually I was checking on a group project when George called us to gather…” But he ignores the phone and sits right next to Carlos on the bed. Carlos feels the bed dip under his weight and leans towards Charles to bump his shoulder.

“Oh, that’s why you were frowning so hard.” He quips, sliding slightly closer to Charles in his movements. He didn’t seem to notice, but the next question made Carlos take pause.

“So, you were staring.” Charles says, more of a statement than a question.

“What if I was?” Carlos replies, a little defiance creeping into his tone. Charles laughs very softly, a twinkle in his eye.

“Are you straight or bi?” Charles goes right for the kill. Carlos, emboldened by the question, places a hand on Charles’ thigh.

“I’m bi. You?” He replies, clearing his throat and looking for eye contact, finding Charles’ eyes already trained on his.

“Gay.” Charles replies, almost a whisper.

“Huh.” Carlos says, inelegantly, his eyes darting towards Charles’ lips. His cupid’s bow is ridiculously charming and inviting. “Does it really matter, though? I’ve wanted to do this all night.” Carlos says, his face getting so close to Charles’ they’re sharing the same breath.

“I’ve been staring at you since you arrived.” Charles replies, his eyes trailing Carlos’ features and focusing on Carlos’ mouth as he smiles mischievously. Then, Carlos proceeds to lick his lips, and notices how Charles’ pupils start to dilate, and his eyes follow the movement.

“You’re cute.” That’s the last thing he says before he captures Charles’ mouth in his. He licks Charles’ lower lip, making him moan softly, shifting slightly on the bed to make room for Carlos to get closer, and Carlos takes the opportunity to push inside Charles’ mouth, tasting him all over. Charles is incredibly responsive, his body going pliant under Carlos’, who pushes him so he can lie on the bed. He shifts his position to lean on top of Charles, who now is lying flat on the bed’s surface.

After noticing how close Charles is to the edge of the bed, he pushes back on his knees and grabs Charles’ hips, lifting him slightly and moving him so they can both be centered, and Charles kicks off his shoes in the process. Carlos does the same and goes back to kissing Charles with abandon, but Charles takes his time, leaving soft, tantalizing bites on his lower lip, and it makes Carlos shiver.

When Charles is grabbing a fistful of hair and Carlos’ hands are roaming under Charles’ shirt, a faint knock on the door is drowned out with soft whimpers and moans as they both roll their hips together, Carlos fitting a knee between Charles’ legs and making him squirm and groan. Charles pulls at Carlos’ hair and rolls his hips once again, looking for more friction, and Carlos can’t help when a very loud moan escapes his lips.

Another knock, this time loud enough to make them pause.

“—los, the seven minutes are up!” Lando’s voice is heard behind the door, and Carlos can’t help when a petulant little moan escapes him as he leans over Charles to shield him from prying eyes in case they were to open the door.

“I heard you! Give us another second!” Carlos replies as he fixes Charles’ shirt, covering him up again. He tends to his hair, too, that got all rumpled with the pillows.

Charles giggles under him, covering his face with both hands and then using a pillow to hide his expression, but Carlos notices he’s blushing furiously.

“Hey. Charles.” Carlos says, lifting the pillow off Charles’ face and grabbing his chin so he could meet his eyes. “Do you want to go to the movies with me tomorrow night?”

Charles lets out another nervous giggle. He nods slowly, a big smile spreading across his lips and making his face light up. “Yeah. I’d love that.”

Carlos can’t help the moment he leans over again and kisses Charles, softly, tenderly, before he pushes himself off him to retrieve their shoes.

They both stand up at the same time, and as Carlos leads Charles towards the door, the other man pulls his shirt to make him turn.

“Let me fix your hair.” He mumbles, running soft fingers through the thick locks of black hair, and Carlos does everything in his power to suppress a full-body shiver. Still, unable to control himself, he pulls Charles towards him with his right arm, their chests pressed tight against each other.

“If you do that again I’m not leaving this room.” He whispers against Charles’ lips, and Charles lets out a shaky laugh before leaning in to kiss him again, Carlos reciprocating by pressing Charles against the door with a thud.

“George wants his room back!” They hear Alex shout from the other side of the door, and Carlos groans again as he is forced to break away from Charles.

“Mierda.” He curses.

Charles lets out another laugh as he turns around between Carlos’ arms and opens the door, the picture of innocence and decorum.

Until the light hits his face and his lips look bitten-red and a little sore.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

trading paper dolls - chapter two

Fandom: Masters of the Air Rating: T (may change) Chapter: 2 / 3 Word Count: 2628

Summary: Tired of the pin-up girls, Alex draws Buck Cleven in a similar style, never intending for the sketch to fall into the hands of Bucky Egan.

read on tumblr: one

Stalag Luft was full of secrets. It was the one thing there was plenty of. If Alex looked as though he were hiding something, well, that was unexceptional; it made him look like everyone else. It made him, if anything, safer, because it increased his trustworthiness in the eyes of those around him. And those eyes were always looking, always peering, always glancing away with a quick flick that you couldn’t quite prove. Luckily, Alex was quick too. While most of those boys had flown (or flown in) bombers, he and Macon knew planes of a different velocity. That made them observant, made them careful, and Alex wanted to be careful with those boys’ trust now that he was gaining it. Trust was the one commodity he knew he wouldn’t be able to buy back if he lost it.

He was still drawing. Actually, he was drawing more publicly than he had before, even testing out a sketch on the hut’s front step, the cold biting his fingers as he gripped the pencil. Two goons on patrol passed his perch. Alex glanced up and saw one of them looking at the page in his hands, but then the guard only sneered and continued on, neither alerting his companion nor disciplining Alex for whatever crime they might’ve decided he had committed by drawing a pretty white girl in close-fitting pajamas. Spreading filth? Having a hobby? Surely those were both extreme offences in the eyes of cogs in a genocide machine, Alex thought sarcastically as he retreated into the bunkhouse, flexing his freezing fingers.

“You know I’ll help you no matter what,” Macon announced from his bunk. “Unless you get frostbite from bein’ stupid. That’s where I draw the line.”

Alex rolled his eyes and crossed the room to sit heavily on his own bunk.

“Got it.”

He knew that wasn’t the end of it though; he could feel Macon looking over his shoulder, like he always did, like a judgemental angel.

“What’re you doin’, doin’ that out there?” Macon demanded.

“I thought…” Alex sighed and set the half-finished drawing aside. “I thought I could make a trade.”

“With Nazis?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit. Guess they’re horny too. Maybe you should draw a girl in a… what’s the dame version of lederhosen?”

“Dirndl.” The answer came from Crank, reading at the table.

“Dirndl,” Macon repeated, instead of telling Crank to mind his business, like Alex knew he probably wanted to. They were both feeling fortunate for the group’s tentative acceptance of them though, and Alex was glad Macon seemed equally unwilling to jeopardize that over a small annoyance. Crank could hardly help overhearing them anyway.

Alex laughed.

“Yeah, maybe next time.” He hunched forward and rubbed his forehead. “Or it was just stupid, like you said.”

“What’d you think they’d give you?” Macon wondered.

“Not much they have access to—not much material. I was hoping, you know, information.”

Macon burst into laughter that startled the book out of Crank’s hands.

“You thought…” he panted. “You thought those damn Nazis were gonna take one look at those perky cartoon sweater-fillers and let you in on their plans?”

“I don’t see you tryin’ anything!” Alex said defensively. The plan hadn’t sounded quite so foolish in his head as it did leaving Macon’s mouth.

“Maybe you could bandage my damn neck with something and see if one of them goons feels tempted to write secret information on it.”

“Alright,” Alex said, signalling the end of their talk with a dismissive wave over his shoulder at Macon.

So, his plan hadn’t been any good. At least it hadn’t made anything worse. That was always a very real danger, and one Alex did not wish to bring down upon the heads of himself and his bunkroom fellows.

Feeling his ambition had been frustrated but not yet blunted, Alex tucked the pencil behind his ear and left the bunkroom. He went to the library, where he hoped he’d be able to make some real progress. It was empty when he arrived. Skimming his fingers over the spines, Alex drew a book from the shelf seemingly at random. He made sure to sit away from the windows and facing the door so he would be able to see if anyone walked in.

Cautiously, he cracked the book open, then thumbed a few pages back from where the leaves parted naturally. He had left a folded sheet of paper there, and there it remained. Though this wouldn’t have been how he’d have found out had the drawing been discovered (there would have been more violence—more fists, more guns, more dogs), Alex sighed in relief to see it still in its place. He shot another look at the empty doorway before sliding the paper free and unfolding it.

It was a map—one of his. Most days, he had nothing to add. Some days, he added little things, like guessing at the density of a stand of trees. All information was valuable; if anyone tried to escape, perhaps it would be necessary for them to double back, to hide amongst those trees. Lately, Alex had also roughed in dashed lines to represent the routes the goons took when they patrolled the camp. These, of course, weren’t fixed, but he could tell the cold was getting to the Germans too, and that they often followed the same path when they were keeping out of the sharp, dry wind that whipped between the huts. Alex found the line that represented the route the guards had travelled today as he’d sat outside and pressed his pencil to the dashes, darkening the path to indicate repeated use.

Every mark he made on this paper, every line he added, was meticulously straight. Straight fence, straight rows of huts, straight guard paths that turned corners and turned back on themselves with right angles. It was how Alex was managing now, since that other drawing had gone missing. He kept the curves for the fantasy pin-up girls (who were girls, exclusively) and the straight lines for reality. No crossover. He wasn’t tempted to go there again. His truce with Egan felt far too tenuous.

He would feel Egan looking at him at all hours, only to have the man glance swiftly away when Alex summoned the nerve to meet his stare. Alex suspected Egan was paranoid that he was already watching him, which made Alex absolutely certain Egan still had that drawing of Buck Cleven. Neither could expose the other without dooming himself, and Alex guessed he really didn’t know Egan well enough to be sure, beyond doubt, that he wouldn’t do something so unprofitable and reckless.

Alex had no plans to give up Egan’s secret—secrets: that he’d kept the drawing, and what continued possession implied about his other hungers—and he wished more than anything that he could just forget he’d ever done the sketch. Unfortunately, he knew it was out there. So slight, so fragile that paper. So relatively meaningless, considering the scope of their circumstances and their precarious chances in the hands of capricious tormentors, but so valuable for the raw need it betrayed in the one who concealed it. War, Alex knew, confinement… these things winnowed down desires until a man could only want one thing or else feel the lack so sharply that his mind would starve long before the meagre rations gave out. Egan’s one thing was Buck Cleven, and Egan knew Alex knew.

Did he really think Buck didn’t?

—

If Bucky could’ve burnt the paper, he lied to himself and told himself he would’ve. As it was, the drawing kept him warm, no flames needed, making him feel as though someone had dropped a hot spark down the back of his shirt whenever he peeled open the page’s softening folds and stole a glimpse. It wasn’t always easy to resist.

He kept it with him, down in the pocket of his coat. Out in the bitter chill of the yard, hands shoved deep, he would twitch the page between his cold fingers, curl it around his thumb, all while glowering at the goons or chatting with Brady or fetching a pail of water like a goddamn dystopian nursery rhyme. At night, Bucky smoothed the page flat and slept on top of it. He could hear its muffled crinkle when he shifted. He ached with how hard he needed it to not tear, but he couldn’t bring himself to hide it elsewhere. This was how the paper had become worn; this was why it was no longer crisp, but soft, like skin.

The beds weren’t warm, and neither were the bunkrooms that housed them. Still, Bucky managed an occasional sweat. This, added to his body’s persistent grime, was fading the pencil lines Jefferson had drawn. He was seeping into Buck, the lines that made Buck up rubbing off onto his skin and clothing. When he erased him completely—and it was a when, not an if—Bucky wondered whether it would feel like a loss or an accomplishment, a man gone or a single body holding traces of them both. Because he felt, some days, to be only a trace of himself. A lone shot in the night, a slicing sheet of rain snatched away by the wind. He felt sharp and cold and intangible. He clasped the drawing of Buck all the tighter to feel like he was real.

The thought of telling this—telling any of it—to Buck the man terrified Bucky. He couldn’t unzip his skin and unbuckle his ribs and unclasp his heart and say, Look here. This is where I need you. It’s gettin’ pretty desperate, Buck. Better to use the drawing to wipe the filth off his face than to dirty the man.

It would be fine, Bucky told himself—lying again—if not for two things: that Jefferson was a loose end, and that Bucky knew a day was coming, faster and faster, when his body would overrule his brain. Some morning, his eyes would find Buck’s as they were just waking up; some afternoon, he would stand too close to him; some evening, he would lean his leg against Buck’s under the table while the boys played cards; and, late some night, he would go to Buck in the dark and remind him of the radio, would remind Buck how he had gathered what he’d asked for, would say, Put me to use, because I only feel the edges of myself when you define them. Beyond that was an abyss, a haze, a pit—and Bucky’s imagination was too scared to jump.

“Your mouth”—those words were the dual harbingers of Bucky’s collapse. He spoke them to Buck while watching him eat a thin soup with a shallow spoon. Buck paused with that referenced mouth open, spoon on its way up. He lowered it back to the bowl.

“What’s that?” he asked, like he hadn’t heard.

Bucky cleared his throat, then shook his head, wearing a vague smile.

“Your lips are cracking,” he said. “From the cold.” He added, “Mine too,” like that would make it better, but now he was thinking about Buck’s mouth and his own and his head was swimming, only partially from hunger.

Slowly, Buck replied, “Uh huh.” He kept eating.

Bucky stared down into his bowl as he finished the meal. He worried Jefferson was watching him, but he wouldn’t look up to prove it; he preferred being discrete to being right. That might have been a first. Where his glance eventually landed was back on Buck, who wasn’t looking. Regardless, Bucky suspected his suspicion. He felt stupid and obvious. He felt he was one big pair of eyes.

It took minutes for him to fuck it all again, but worse. Dizzingly so.

He’d pushed away from the table after eating, donned his coat, and sought his solitude in the yard. Hadn’t worked. Buck had followed, just long enough after that Bucky knew before he even turned to look at the inevitable owner of the approaching footsteps that he’d taken time to wind the thick blue scarf around his neck. He always took more care than Bucky did; this, this situation, Bucky felt, would never happen to Buck. He would never have succumbed to the same insanity, falling asleep on a drawing of his best friend and waking up with a pale grey tattoo on his stomach where the graphite had transferred.

He turned and nodded at Buck. The blue made Buck look colder—his skin more wan, his eyes that squinted in the pale light bright and diseased—but also more beautiful. In spite of the distress holding the one drawing was causing him, Bucky wanted Buck captured like this too: this pallid, enduring creature against the barren landscape of dirt and huts. Buck walked close and Bucky sighed hot air in his direction.

“Y’alright?” Buck checked, and Bucky nodded but turned away. He didn’t want company.

He strode to the lee of the hut, out of the wind, but Buck came. They went together. Didn’t they always? Bucky leaned back against the wall, hands in his coat pockets.

“John,” said Buck, and that was all.

Then, he did something he hadn’t before, slipping his hand in next to Bucky’s, down in the pocket where Bucky was toying with the folded paper. Bucky stiffened and Buck frowned in confusion. He hadn’t felt it yet, but because Bucky didn’t try to extricate himself, Buck was able to explore. His fingers slid between Bucky’s, slow like rain, and Bucky closed his eyes, knowing it was all over, deciding he was at least going to enjoy these final moments. Buck’s fingers felt slim, his palm rough, his hand an easy one for Bucky to hold. He felt Buck hit the paper and stall his movement. Tears rose like a tide behind Bucky’s eyelids until one rolled out, so cold on his cheek that it was almost hot.

“Something they shouldn’t see?” Buck asked under his breath. He didn’t mention the crying, so Bucky assumed he hadn’t noticed.

He knew who Buck meant: the Germans. He thought Bucky was carrying plans of some kind, maybe a map.

Bucky shook his head, spilling more tears, and now, Buck saw.

His hand went to Bucky’s face. By the time Bucky opened his eyes, it was gone, but he still felt the way Buck’s palm had curve to cup his cheek.

Buck said things, many things, attempting to soothe Bucky even though he didn’t know what was wrong. He said them in the low voice that seemed to roll out of him. But, like a man adrift in the ocean, Bucky had given up. He smiled at Buck as if he were a hallucination—a final sight before his head went under. A kindness from his panicked mind. He understood that this was alarming, what with his wet eyes, but he sniffed and pressed the paper into Buck’s palm, still in his pocket. He felt the back of Buck’s fingers as they closed around it. And then the handoff was over. The waves were rising. His legs were too tired to kick.

Buck concealed most of his confusion, but Bucky knew he would be curious. Even so, he didn’t leave right away. He stayed. The two of them, sheltered from the cutting wind.

“Don’t… just don’t ask where it came from,” Bucky said when Buck finally pushed away from the wall. “That doesn’t matter. I take full responsibility for that.” He darted a look at Buck’s closed fist in explanation. “It’s just mine. Anything now… it’s between you and me, Buck.”

Buck smiled like this was the first thing that made sense.

“Always is,” he said simply.

Bucky nodded his gratitude.

[therealcocoshady]

RED CARPET APPEARANCE 🎥

Eminem x Young Actress Reader

This is Part 2 of Daddy's Spaghetti 🥰

Synopsis : You argue with Em about a red carpet appearance at the Oscars.

The last thing you wanted was to argue with your boyfriend right before going to the Oscars, but there you were. Lately, the two of you had been arguing quite a bit. To be fair, both of you were working a lot and being in a long distance relationship didn’t help. Not only did you have to manage hectic schedules, you also had to deal with time difference and last minute changes in plans. You had been dating Marshall for a few months now and you weren’t too sure how long things would last. Sure, when you were together, things were great, but actually getting together seemed impossible, these days. Right when you thought you could both make time, there was always something coming up, like an unplanned studio session, a meeting, or God knows what else. It didn’t help either that Marshall was paranoid about the two of you being seen together. 

After more than a decade in the spotlight and living in Los Angeles, you were used to paparazzi and having your picture taken whenever you were running errands. Of course, sometimes, it was annoying, but you had learned to live with it. Marshall, on the other hand, in spite of having a career lasting over twenty-five years was as paranoid as one could get. It was one of the many reasons why he hated being in Los Angeles and always tried to get you to come to Detroit instead, along with the weather being too hot. In truth, you didn’t mind going to Michigan or spending a lot of time inside, just the two of you. This time, however, you wished he would be the one making an effort. You were nominated for an Oscar for the first time and it was a big night for you. You knew he wasn’t a big fan of public appearances but you wished he would agree to coming with you. After all, he was a nominee himself - for the same movie as you, mind you - and everyone pretty much knew about your relationship, even though none of you had officially confirmed it. To you, there was no reason not to walk the red carpet together. However, when you asked him if he would be your date to the Academy Awards, he wasn’t too enthusiast. In fact, all you got from him was a « erm, I don’t know. We’ll see. Let me think about it. ». And after giving it some thought, he decided not to go with you, breaking it to you over FaceTime, three days before the event. He brought up a bunch of reasons, like having a studio session with Dre that might run late and prevent him from making it in time, hating the red carpet anyway and not wanting to be paraded in a suit that made him look like a penguin. He did not seem to care that you having to take someone else as your date would mean you wouldn’t be sitting next to each other or that you would have wanted him to be by your side. You were mad. You had always known he didn’t really care about awards and public appearances, but you wished he would make an effort for you. Him being set in his ways made you feel like he wouldn’t put you first, just for once. 

Do you even want to be with me ? You blurted out after he told you to find another date. 

What the fuck ? He asked with disbelief all over his face. What does that have to do with that damn red carpet, Y/N ? 

You cancelled the last time you were supposed to come to LA, you’re never available and now you won’t even make an effort for me, you explained. If you don’t want to be with me anymore, just say so… 

You’re so dramatic, they better give you that Oscar, he groaned. Not everything is about you, you know ? I’m working my ass off to get the album done in time, I don’t need you complaining over a stupid red carpet appearance. 

Oh I’m being dramatic ? You asked as you stared at his face on the screen. I’ll give you drama : you can book a hotel room and forget about all the nasty things you were planning on doing to me in bed for next time we were supposed to see each other. 

Whatever, he said as he rolled his eyes. Just go and rehearse your acceptance speech. I have to go anyway. I have Dre calling on the other line. I’ll call you later. 

He did try to call you a couple of hours later, but you didn’t feel like picking up. You were still pissed off and, frankly, a little stressed out too. After all, he hadn’t answered your question about wanting to be with you. You knew you’d have to talk to him at some point - and get to the bottom of the situation, but you also didn’t want to break up over the phone merely three days before one of the most important events of your life. Whatever it was, it could wait until after the Oscars. 

You ended up walking the red carpet with your older brother as your date. The two of you were extremely close and he had always been your plus one to events. It sort of made sense to go to the Oscars with him, even though you would have loved to have Marshall by your side. Your big brother was all smiles as he watched you pose for the photographers in a stunning custom Alaïa dress. However, your attire or possible Best Actress win wasn’t exactly the main focus of the journalists, who were yelling questions about your boyfriend who was nowhere to be found. 

Where is Eminem, Y/N ? One asked. Is he coming tonight ? 

Are the two of you together ? Another yelled. 

You didn’t answer the questions about him, only the ones about your nomination, how you’d feel about winning, the movie and your outfit. You tried to focus on the positives and everything this night meant for your career, but you had a hard time focusing. All you wanted was Marshall’s hand in yours and him to be by your side. Hell, you had even picked the dress color because you thought he would like it. You knew that blue was his favorite color and had figured that, if the two of you were to walk the red carpet together, it would make his eyes pop. 

Breathe, your brother said. You look tense. Is this about Em ? 

Just call him by his name, you said as you rolled his eyes. You’ve met him. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to be your date and enjoy the open bar, he continued, but you look… upset ? 

I think he wants to break up with me, you said nervously. 

No he doesn’t, your brother scoffed. Where did you get that from ? 

Well, he’s never available, he didn’t want to be here with me tonight, and he called me dramatic, and… 

First of all, you are dramatic, your brother chuckled. Also, you know he’s working a lot… 

I should have known better than to ask his biggest fan for support, you said as you rolled your eyes. 

Just shut up and focus on your big night, sis, he said with a smile. My baby sister might be getting the biggest award there is for being dramatic, tonight. Now, I think we should focus on that, as well as the fact that stylists managed to make you look presentable. 

Your brother’s weird encouragement was a good way to make you smile, and the glasses of champagne waiters kept on handing you did a great job when it came to taking the edge off. You were taken to your seats and the ceremony began. You kept nervously searching for Marshall in the crowd but you didn’t manage to spot him. Was he skipping the whole thing ? Your mind wandered as the ceremony unfolded and you were soon on autopilot. It was your first time attending the Academy Awards and this had to be the longest ceremony ever. The only entertaining things were the various performances. Your heart skipped a beat when you heard the music of Marshall’s song - the one he had written for the movie. He was not supposed to perform tonight - this had not been announced - but he was on stage, rapping the song that got him his second Oscars nomination exactly twenty years after winning Best Original Song for Lose Yourself. The crowd was wild and you were excited as well. Seeing him on stage made you forget how mad at him you were and you were back to being his number one fan, gushing over how good he looked and rapping the lyrics at the same time, like the groupie you very much were. His performance got him a standing ovation and, twenty minutes and a commercial break later, he was back on stage, accepting the award for Best Original Song. Only this time, he was conforming to the Academy’s dress code, looking dapper in a tux. He might hate this type of outfit, but no one could deny he looked absolutely incredible. One detail did catch your eye : the bow tie he was wearing was made of the same fabric as your dress. He was matching with you ! 

When you wouldn’t return his calls, he called me to ask who you were going to wear, your brother told you. 

He did ? You squeed. 

Yep. Not the kind of thing anyone who wants to break up with you would do, I think. I’m not supposed to tell you, but he’s got another one to match your second dress, too… 

You couldn’t help but smile. The fact that he would go out of his way to call your brother, as well as the dressmakers to have a bowtie matching your dress was absolutely adorable. You couldn’t keep your eyes off Marshall, who was giving a heartfelt speech about how great it felt to have the Academy acknowledge hip-hop and how grateful he was to have the opportunity to be on this stage, two decades after Lose Yourself won. His speech was just like him : elegant and understated. When he went back to his seat, you could see him search for you in the crowd and you waved quietly, sending him a kiss. You couldn’t wait to go and hug him. 

Can’t you behave ? Your brother chuckled. There’s cameras, Y/N. And try not to eye fuck him or drool, this time, will you ? 

I’ll try, you giggled. 

You were almost in agony the rest of the night and the two of you kept looking  and smiling at each other. As always when the two of you were in the same room, you were unable to take your eyes off him for a single second. You didn’t pay much attention to anything else that was going on, so much so that you almost missed your name being called for Best Actress. Everyone around you got up and cheered for you and you were lost. You had actually won an Oscar ?! You ? It didn’t feel right. Bit it was indeed, your name on the screen, and people kept on looking at you. Your brother had to help you get up as you came to your senses and realized that your childhood dream had come true. You made your way to the stage as tears of joy were welling in your eyes. You were almost shaking with nerves as you started your acceptance speech. You had one written and memorized but you couldn’t remember it for the life of you. You spotted Marshall in the crowd, who was smiling and looking at you with pride in his eyes, mouthing a silent « I love you ». 

I… Wow, you said nervously into the microphone. I can’t believe this is happening. I had something really heartfelt, clever and funny written but I can’t remember a single word so please bear with me. Hum… Standing here, on this stage, holding this award is a childhood dream come true. First, I want to thank my family who has always supported my passion, and I’d like to thank everyone in Hollywood that gave me a chance to act. And everyone who didn’t. In fact, I want to acknowledge every person who doubted me. And every boyfriend of mine who called me dramatic. There have been a few, and you best believe I’m creating a group chat tonight and telling them that I actually got an award for being dramatic and made it my full-time job. Um… What else ? Oh, uh, thank you to my manager, assistant, glam squad… Shout out to Alaïa for getting me into this dress tonight, and shout out to Marshall Mathers who will be taking it off me tonight. Dreams do come true, guys ! 

The crowd erupted in cheers and laughter and you could see Marshall laughing before you exited the stage. When you made it backstage, you took a moment to sit and realize what just happened. You had won an Oscar. Oh, and you had accidentally mentioned Marshall taking off your clothes. On stage. While million of people probably watched the ceremony on TV… Oops. A few people came to congratulate you, though you were quickly ushered back to your seat for the remainder of the ceremony. The movie you were in did not end up winning Best Picture, but you easily got over your disappointment. When the ceremony ended, you were swarmed by an army of people who came to congratulate you. You even got to hug Meryl Streep and tell her how she was the one who made you want to act in the first place, and this was definitely the highlight of your night. Your brother had gotten out of your sight and was enjoying the open bar, as he always did whenever he came with you to an event. When the crowd began to vacate, you had a moment to yourself. That’s when you spotted your boyfriend. 

Congratulations, he said as he pulled you into his arms. 

Congratulations to you too, you said giddily. You were amazing on stage ! 

As were you, he replied with a smile. Great speech, by the way… 

Oh my God, I am so sorry, you said. I forgot my speech, and I-I… Are you mad ? 

It’s fine, he chuckled. You’re way too adorable for me to be mad. 

Really ? You asked nervously. I know how you are about privacy… 

Really, he said reassuringly. And with you looking like this… ? I am glad everyone knows you’re spoken for. 

I think they got the idea when they saw you matching with me, you said with excitement. 

You like it ? He asked with a smile. I had to ask your brother and harass the dressmakers. They hate me. 

He told me, you said giddily. And I know you have another one to match my dress for the afterparty, too… 

If you still want me as your date, that is, he pointed out. 

I do, you giggled. But I’m going to need your help to get out of this dress and into the other… 

Let’s go, then. 

He grabbed your hand and you walked out of the theater, holding your awards, while an army of journalists were screaming to get your attention. You half-expected Marshall to let go of your hand, knowing how guarded he was when it came to the press, but he only squeezed it tighter before grabbing you by the waist as you made your way to a car. 

Em, how are you feeling tonight ? A journalist asked. 

Have you seen my date ? I’m great, man, he grinned as he looked at you lovingly. 

VIDEO : WATCH AS EMINEM GUSHES OVER Y/N AFTER THE OSCARS

Eminem & Y/N have officially confirmed their relationship ! The couple did not walk the red carpet together but they certainly made a memorable exit, as Eminem gushed over his date to journalists while not letting go of her. This happened after Y/N hinted at Em taking her Alaïa dress off her in her acceptance speech. While the Rap God did not mention his girlfriend in his own speech, he certainly appeared in love. While known for his stoic face, he was seen smiling all evening, especially when they made their way to the Vanity Fair afterparty (almost an hour late, mind you…)  in matching outfits. And if he does not seem like one to kiss and tell, no one missed Y/N’s lipstick all over his mouth, nor the hickies in his neck. 

That night was a big one for the rapper and the movie star, as they both took home statues, respectively for Best Original Song and Best Actress. And from the looks of it, they certainly celebrated. 

[eight-freakin-gids]

With a game like In Stars and Time, there are so many little things someone playing it might never experience. I'm on my second playthrough, and I know I'm still not going to see everything.

I want to talk about a moment I just experience that I think fucked me up more than anything else I've experienced in this game.

Mondo spoilers ahead

This is what it looks like on your 3rd completion of a Friendship Quest loop. This screenshot sums it up pretty well: Despite how shocking this scene was for everyone to experience the first time, now Siffrin only sees it as a reminder that his family loves him.

And for some reason, this nearly moved me to tears where nothing else in this game has done so yet. Sure, I want to share this like I said, but mostly I just want to figure out why this scene made me feel the way it did. And I think the answer is that, for me, this hammers home the tragedy of Siffrin's situation more than any other moment in the game.

Leading up to this, I saw so many instances of the immense stress Siffrin is under. The bathroom scene had them breaking down, unable to cry in spite of the intense emotional strain he has to endure, and then panicking because they briefly forgot Odile's name. Then, something as simple as a soft roll of toilet paper from Odile snaps them out of it, and he's like 'Yay, I'm still experiencing new things!", only for them to immediately break down again because a roll of fucking toilet paper was what was giving him hope to carry on. This loop also had Siffrin believing that his family only loves them because he manipulated them into feeling that way.

And even before all of that, my second playthrough of this game has given me a much better understanding of Siffrin as a character. I only ever did the Friendship Quests once in my first playthrough, and I was now going out of my way to do them multiple times. It was fascinating to see Siffrin acknowledge that they could be doing these conversations differently, but choosing to not change them.

Because the last time he tried changing things too much, we got the gutpunch of the 1st Friendship Quest ending, and the later gutpunch of the Act 3 Finale. So instead, best stick to the script. If nothing new happens, nothing unexpected or bad will happen.

That brings us back to the ending of this loop. This is Siffrin's third time experiencing this moment. He knows what's going to happen, so it can't hurt him. And it's tragic, that in spite of everything that he's experienced, this is still the happiest he's been in his life. In this moment, he knows that he exists. Their family knows them and cares for them, even if Siffrin believes that they only feel that way because he made them feel that way. Siffrin can accept that. Siffrin would endure hell if it meant he could stay with the people they love, even if those people don't love him the same way. Siffrin is happy to do so, even as they're losing his mind.

End of post.

[thosewildcharms]

We talk a lot about Rick saying he knew he was in love with his son's best friend, but we need to discuss Michonne's love for, and loyalty to this man since they met. He's always been the one for her.

oh for sure, she chose him from the beginning even if she wasn't fully aware of doing so. btw, if you haven't seen it already, i would recommend this post by @glamaphonic (which is basically required reading in my opinion) for the full trajectory of michonne's feelings for rick.

while I don't necessarily think she was in love with him since day one, you're absolutely right in that it was building from the moment they met. these are the things that stick out to me but let's be real it's not a comprehensive list because she loves him so much. she loves him so so much!

the way she pretty much instantly decided the prison was safe and that she wanted to stay there because of rick. not just by understanding why he was mistrustful of her, but by seeing how he had built a legitimate family from the way he reunited with carol and thanked daryl for taking care of judith. it took her five minutes to clock him as a legitimate leader and has supported him ever since. so much so that in 7x12 she tells him, completely honestly, that he should lead all of the communities. she genuinely admires him, and thinks there is no one better or more capable than him (of course, that's not true: she is lol i'm always so ticked by how surprised she is when he asks her to lead with him in 7x12).

when she sees rick having hallucinations, instead of treating him like a wild animal that you should only approach slowly and carefully (like everyone else did) she sees herself in him and goes out of her way to make him feel better. if anything it actually makes her trust and understand him more. and she gets him to crack a joke and smile!

the fact that not only was she not angry, but told him she completely understood that he had to consider giving her up to the governor, who she *knows* is a psychopath. that SHE of all people was the one to empathize with him for having to make that choice? that is truly bonkers when you think about it. a level of loyalty and understanding and care that makes very little sense considering how they still barely knew each other then. but it ~*~must have been something else then~*~

the way she bursts into tears of joy and looks to the sky in thanks after finding carl and rick after the prison. you know she would have been glad to find anyone when she started following that trail but you could tell that those two are who she wanted to find more than anyone else. and the fact that doing so seemed to restore her faith? shut up???

after she finds rick and carl she asks him "is this home? or just a stop along the way?" she was willing to stay put and build a home with just him and carl without bothering to look for anyone else. as @glamaphonic said, she claims them right then and there. (btw i noticed that a similar conversation happened with carol and tyresse in The Grove, and also with sasha and abraham in...some later episode idk which one, but they're in an office building. i just thought it was interesting! i wonder if the carol/tyreese instance was a nod to the comics?)

rick thinks that killing a man with his throat is the worst thing he's ever done. certainly carl saw it as monstrous (as it made him think he was a monster too, for being too similar to rick) even daryl backed away from it. only michonne saw it for the heroic act it was and it made her fall in love with him. and she made him feel better too. again, she sees a kindred spirit in him as someone willing to do anything, including things most people would not do, to protect his child.

she is always ready to back him up and fight with him, as well as for him. the only time she disagrees with him is when she knows there is a better option for them, and even then she's gentle and supportive while she convinces him there's a better way (directing the group to alexandria, "i'm still with you", the fight against n*gan, the end of towl 1x04, probably more that i'm forgetting). she considers him her equal in every way, and considering how self-reliant michonne is, that says everything.

okay but seriously the EASIEST way to piss michonne off is to talk shit about rick, talk shit to rick, put your hands on rick, or even just look at rick in a way she doesn't like. she just starts yelling and/ swinging, which is hilarious because she's normally so collected.

on the other hand the only thing that makes michonne lose her shit completely and genuinely panic is if rick is legitimately in danger (the end of 6x09, the bridge)

if she thinks he's dead, she straight up just. stops. mid battle. just drops her weapon and stops. i'm almost glad we never got flashbacks to the time immediately after the bridge because it might have been too devastating to watch.

she never rejects him. even when they're at odds, she's still goes out of her way to show him she still supports him (5x16, their kiss in 7x08).

rick straight up would not have survived losing carl if he hadn't had michonne. she is so loving and patient and gentle with him even through her own grief it's incredible. she loves him SO much (and i have to point out, rick is the same for her. as devastating as carl's death is, watching them work through it together was beautiful).

she is always trying to ease his burden and be a legitimate partner to him. there are countless examples of this but the big one for me is how she considers n*gan her responsibility after season 8. rick made the call but she backed him and kept backing him even though everyone was against them, even when they both had doubts. she completely meant it when she said she wanted for them to make all of their decisions together and for once he's not completely alone as a leader.

speaking of the n*gan thing. michonne stands in maggie's way until maggie asks her what she would have done if it had been rick who had been butchered in front of her, if she could have just let that go. definitely, the answer was no. just like rick couldn't have if it had been michonne.

(because she can't live without him anymore than he can live without her).

she was flipping over dead walkers for months after the bridge and did not move on for over 6 years because she could *feel* he was still alive despite all evidence to the contrary and also simply because there was no one else she wanted. it's him or no one. just as it's her or no one for him. you can actually see her flinch a little toward the end of her kiss with ezekiel.

wearing his clothes and wrapping them around herself like a hug when she really really missed him

talking to him long after he was gone

setting off to find him on foot over nothing more than a hint that he was alive

all of the ones who live. like, that would honestly need its own post but do we even need it? that show dialed this love story up to like a twenty. she spent an entire episode saving him from himself. almost died trying to find him in the first place. jumped his ass out of a helicopter. her faith in him and them saves the entire world.

truly, her response to his proposal/vows is spot on: "it could only ever have been you." it was always him, it was only ever going to be him. it's him, or it's no one.

[adudelolwriting]

"instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating" but with either brim or jam maybe? 👀👀 (last prompt absolutely gutted me btw it was SO good)

holy fuck i could have SWORN this was meant to be like 500 words. nope. another 1k oneshot . hopefully you'll enjoy :D this ones a lot sweeter than the other one (ask game here)

~~~~~~~~~~

Alex knew Brian and Tim were close. Brian is one of Alex's closest friends, and he knew about Tim a long while before he met the man. Alex first met him when Brian was 'auditioning' for the part of Brian, the main character in his film he was making. (Brian already had the part, in Alex's mind. Alex heavily based the character of his friend, and named the role after him.)

Don't get Alex wrong, Tim was an attractive man. He just… he wasn't Alex's type. He seemed very… nervous, talking to most people, his back stiff and arms crossed. Alex really only saw the man's guard get let down when he was off to the side, having a short, private chat with Brian. And Alex didn't think anything of it — why would he?

No, Alex was far more interested in his long term friend. He had talked to Jay, one time, when it was late into the night. They probably should have been asleep, but instead, Alex was talking about Brian. 

"It's just, he gives me the butterflies, like Amy used to," Alex said, laying on his back and staring at the popcorn ceiling of his room. 

"So you have a crush on him?" Jay asked, his head tilting to the side, like it always does when he was curious or interested in something. Alex shook his head, "no, I can't have one. I know he swings both ways, but he's my friend. I've known him almost as long as I've known you."

Jay chuckled, leaning back on his elbows, looking to Alex. "That doesn't mean much, dude. If he makes you feel like you felt for Amy, I think that's a pretty big sign," he smiles.

But Alex can't have a crush on Brian, right?

Yeah, the man makes his stomach flip, and pretty, and he makes Alex laugh, and…

Oh. 

Oh.

Alex had a crush on Brian.

Alex had a crush on Brian, and Jay was the one who helped him realize.

He let out a groan, blush blooming from his face as Alex tried to hide himself. Jay laughed at him, patting him on his shoulder. "Maybe you should ask him out. It looks like he feels the same for you too, dude."

"I just found out I liked him, I can't just — ask him out like that!" Alex huffed, voice muffled by his hands.

"Why not? Someone else might ask him out first! Imagine if like, he and Sarah got together," Jay laughed quietly, to which Alex groaned again, muttering a 'shut up' and throwing a pillow on him.

Some days have passed now, and Alex could only focus on the fact that he liked Brian. After shooting, Alex had made a plan to ask Brian — er, well, at least tell him. Maybe explain and hope production of Marble Hornets wouldn't be awkward if Alex explained why he couldn't look at Brian without getting flustered.

Once filming for the day was done, Brian and Tim were talking quietly as Seth put the camera away, and Sarah and Jay talked. It was a pretty full day, with all of the crew around. (Sarah even decided to stay and watch after her scenes were done!)

Alex walked over to Brian and Tim, and their conversation pauses as he got closer. "Hey man! What's up?" Brian asks. 

"Could I talk to you for a moment? Uh, privately?" Alex asked, and he felt his blush already starting to rise. Brian looks back to Tim, who simply shrugged. 

"Yeah, of course. Lead the way!" Brian smiled, and god, was the man pretty. Alex shook his head. The two walked a bit further from the set — out of earshot of everyone else. "Uh, I'm not in trouble or anything, right? Not firing me or anything?" Brian laughs, putting an easy smile on Alex's face.

"No, no. Nothing of the sort. It's, uh…" Alex paused, as if thinking of the words of his scrambled brain. "It's more… personal, I guess."

Brian's eyebrows tilt in concern. "Is everything okay?" 

"Yeah — It's, yeah." Alex took a deep breath. "Brian, I — I like you." 

His face must be so red. He can't make eye contact, instead staring down into the grass. The silence washes over them, and god, Alex ruined everything, didn't he?

"Oh my god," Brian giggles after a second, which felt like an eternity, "God, Alex, I like you too. Did you really not pick up any of the signs?"

"You… what?" Alex feels like his brain broke. Brian liked him too? Brian had been leaving signs?

"Yeah man!" Brian grinned. "I've liked you, for like, forever now. You never did anything so I didn't think you liked me back."

Alex laughs at himself. Of course. "Ah, in that case… are you free this weekend..?"

"Alex Kralie, are you asking me out on a date?" 

"If you could be inclined to join me, then… yes?" 

"I would love to. I'll have to ask Tim, to see if he's okay with it." Huh? "We've talked briefly about it, but I'll have to double check if we can get serious, too."

"What?" Alex asked. "Why — Why do you have to ask Tim?" 

Brian's eyebrows now curl in confusion. "Because… me and Tim are dating?"

"What?"

Brian giggles, breath whistling quietly from the gap in his teeth. "Me and Tim have been together for like, two or three years!"

"And you — you didn't tell anyone?" Embarrassment and shame flushes through Alex. He asked out a taken man. 

"We… we did, didn't we?" Brian says, seemingly to himself. "I thought we did. Was it not obvious? I've literally gushed about him for hours."

"I just— I thought you guys were friends — Sorry, I should go—" Alex was about to turn around and leave, but Brian took his hand into his own.

"Hey, dude, it's fine. I'm poly, y'know? I have two hands. I like you too, did you just forget that?" Brian giggles lightly. "Please don't run away from me 'cause of this, Alex. I'm like, ninety-nine percent sure Tim's okay with this."

They talked it out, talked to Tim, and everything was okay. 

And, well, besides.

Brian does have two hands for a reason.

[sykosugu]

♤♢ melodies of passion ♧♡ | two

♤ summary: he's the most powerful & ruthless yakuza boss in the city, and she's just a music store owner. but once he hears her singing voice, he wants nothing more than to hear it for the rest of his life..and she's not so sure about that.. he'll do anything to change that. a gojo satoru au

♢ warnings: this story will contain descriptions of violence, death, illegal activities, sexual content, gang related content, use of weapons

♧ aw: none!

♡ currently: ongoing - no update schedule

♤ taglist: open! just let me know

♢ wc: 4.5k

♧ carlile speaks: hi my pretty babies! most of you voted for a longer chapter, so here she is! i'm excited to hear your thoughts! I was telling real life Ellie how I'd lost momentum for this story shortly after posting its first chapter but I sat down and it just poured out of me. I hope you all enjoy. I'm having so much fun with this one! and I know I said early next week but we can all collectively ignore that! (:

Ellie offered to close for you so you could go home earlier and take your time getting ready. The only thing Gojo told you was to dress comfortably. He said he wants to show off his cooking skills instead of someone elses, and this way he can make sure nobody is around that shouldnt be around. 

Lately Gojo had been dealing with a problem, but he wasn’t about to be telling you that. He already knew your apprehension towards dating him because of his status, he didn’t want to chance scaring you off before he had a proper chance of making you happy.

Someone had been trying to get close to Gojo, trying to learn information and sell it to his number one enemy, Kento Nanami; another prominent Yakuza in the area. He wanted Gojo’s contacts, warehouses and secrets. Everyone wanted Gojo’s contacts. Everyone wanted his status. They wanted the power. Gojo had it all. The money, the loyal men, the status, the everything. The only thing he didn’t have, was the girl. But oh did he find one, and oh was he obsessed with her. But she wanted very little to do with him. 

Until now.

He picked you up at six on the dot, nevermind how he got your address. You’ll just have to thank Ellie later. She’s also the one who slipped him your phone number, but she refuses to admit it. 

“You look lovely. I love the matching sweatpants.” Gojo grins down at you, taking your hand in his and offering a kiss to your knuckles, just as he did yesterday.

“You told me to wear something comfortable, and it doesn't get much more comfortable than sweatpants and a hoodie.”

“No, no. I’m not complaining,” he rushes out. “I said comfortable, and you–.”

“Calm down, Gojo. You didn’t offend me,” you chuckle at his anxiousness. It’s a little surprising to you.

“Oh. I know,” he half laughs. “Are you ready?” you nod in response, and he opens the car door. You don’t miss the line of cars behind his as you get into the front seat.

The drive to Gojo’s estate doesnt take super long. A couple of winding roads, a gate with guards, and a long driveway later and you're there.

His kitchen is set up with the best of the best; every tool and gadget you could ever need. “I was thinking we could make something together. Ellie told me your favorite thing to make is pancakes, and those happen to be my specialty,” he says, guiding you into his home. 

Tall black cabinets adorned with gold hardware and a black marble countertop. Everything is so sleek, and elegant and perfect you're almost afraid to exist in the space. But it’s so warm and cozy and inviting at the same time. He’s got candles burning on the counter top and on the coffee table in the living room; which also has black furniture and dark walls. 

“Did she now? What else did she tell you?” you ask, leaning across the kitchen island looking up at him on the other side.

“I guess that will be revealed in due time, my love,” Gojo smiles over at you. He pulls the ingredients from the cabinet, and the fridge. “She said to make sure strawberries were involved or to not even bother,” he chuckles softly, placing a carton of fresh berries on the counter. 

“That’s a little dramatic, but strawberries are the best topping for pancakes,” you take the knife as he passes it to you, softly rolling your eyes at his “Careful, it’s sharp.” and you don't miss the way he clenches his jaw when you say “Ok, dad”, in response.

“So, what made you say yes to ‘Mr. Big Yakuza man’ after all my months of pining for you?”

“First of all, you were mostly pining for my piano. Second of all, I got some advice telling me to live a little and here I am doing that,” you pop a strawberry into your mouth after cutting the top off.  Gojo opens his mouth leaning down next to you, silently asking for a berry. You slice the top off another one, raising it to his lips for him to take. He smiles as he chews it, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time; making your skin heat up in response.

“Sweet,” he mumbles, licking his lips after he swallows, “Very.. sweet,” his eyes flicker down to your lips, but he snaps out of it at the sound of you clearing your throat. He clears his in response, “Right, I wanted the piano. But you were the real prize,” he says, trying to regain his composure.

“Just because you heard me sing?” you effortlessly cut the strawberries into slices, setting them to the side as you spoke with him. Gojo was on your right, mixing the batter together, plus the dash of cinnamon you threw in–“That’s my secret,”--you blush over at him as he eyes you.

“Nah. I was interested in you before that. Your “playing hard to get” attitude feels like a challenge.”  His words make you scoff. “The singing voice is just a plus.”

“I’m not playing hard to get. I am hard to get. And I think if anything, the last year is evidence of that.” you’re grinning to yourself as you continue your task.

“Sure is,” he mumbles to himself, but loud enough for you to hear, making you grin. “But that’s okay, I like a challenge.” He turns away from the counter, leaning to turn the stove on.

“You certainly are the most persistent person I've ever met.” leaves you in the form of a chuckle. You hate to admit how flattered he make you feel by being so adamant in trying to know you

“I don't know, you were pretty persistent on not letting me take you on a date. And about that piano of yours.” He starts dripping the mix onto the surface, creating perfect circles. 

Of course. 

Insert eye roll here.

“Hey, you agreed to not bring up my piano if i sang for you,” you watch him work effortlessly.

“I agreed to stop trying to buy it. I still intend to tease you about it. Although I would appreciate some help in finding a piano that’s as nice as that one.”

You’re startled by a voice that isn't Gojo’s. “Sir, there’s been developments.” Gojo’s demeanor changes in front of your eyes. His gaze finds the man near the entrance of the kitchen and immediately hardens.

“I said, no interruptions. Are you aware of what that means?” his tone makes your blood run cold. You’ve never seen him this way before. He’s always been goofy and kind to you, sure he demands his men’s respect and can get them to do whatever he wants with the snap of his fingers, but this is different,

“Y-yes, sir, but this is impo–”

“Enough, Ijichi. Take it to Suguru and Choso,” Gojo demands. “I’ll decide what to do with you later. Now leave us.”

“Yes, Goj–Sir. Yes, sir.” the man says, leaving in a rush.

“He’s new if you couldn't tell,” Gojo jokes, demeanor switching back in an instant. 

“You don’t have to talk to him like that, you know,” you toss a strawberry into your mouth.

“In my line of work, I do. But let's not focus on that, I know you don’t really care for that side of me and that’s okay.”

“Yes, please just keep me in the dark on all of that,” you chuckle, “I don’t need anything else on my conscience,” your words make him laugh. But you also notice the look of worry laced behind his eyes.

“So does that mean there will be a next time?”

“Mm, too early to tell Mr. Yakuza man. But I am enjoying this so far.” you offer him a soft smile.

The two of you continue to move effortlessly throughout his space together, as if you were meant to be a part of it all along. He flashes you that award winning smile any chance he gets. After the pancakes are done and topped with the strawberries, he leads you to his patio where he has a large projector screen set up with a sea of blankets and pillows for you two to sit on. 

“I hear you enjoy the Harry Potter movies, and I happen to be a fan as well. So i figured we could have a little marathon while we got to know each other,”

“Sato–” you notice the way his eyes glimmer with a sliver of hope, but that was a mess up,--”Gojo, that sounds perfect,” you whisper. His face slightly drops at your correction, but he’s deterred none. Shaking it off, he smiles over at you, helping you take a seat on the blanketed area.

“You strike me as a slytherin with that attitude of yours,” he jokes with you. “I’m a Gryffindor myself.”

“Mm, I would have thought you to be a hufflepuff,”

“Those are fighting words,” he says as he leans over and grabs a pillow. Swiftly catching on, you immediately grab one as well and strike first; landing a blow to the side of his head. He chuckles, “You’re going to regret that, Birdie,” his threat makes you giggle. 

You burst with laughter as he takes hold of one of your ankles, and pulls you towards him, making you tumble back from the sudden movement; the pillows breaking the short fall from your sitting position. His pillow begins making repeated contact with your upper body, your arms shoot up in an attempt to cover your head. His light blows of the pillow make both of your laughs fill the air.

“God, Gojo at–whack–least pretend to–whack–-let me win,” you giggle out.

He pauses his movements for a split second, smiling at you from above deviously. He takes hold of both of your hands in one of his, slightly pulling you into a sitting position.

“No,” and he whacks you again lightly upside your head, sending you backwards into the pillows below again

“Rude,” you huff, making him laugh.

“Had enough?”

“Mhm,” you pout. Putting your hand out, you silently ask for help, but keep hold of your pillow with the other hand. He pulls you to sit, but is surprised to feel your pillow collide with the side of his face, sending him backwards this time. You take the opportunity to straddle his hips, and repeatedly whack him with the pillow. Lightly of course.”How do you like it? Hm?” you tease from above. Gojo has that permanent grin all over his face. His hands find your hips, giving them a light squeeze before he switches your positions so he's hovering over you again. You go silent, but have a huge smile etched onto your lips.

“What’s wrong, Birdie?” he gloats, “Got no defense now?” Low laughs fall from his lips as he watches you swallow in anticipation, You look up to his lips, also forming a grin. “Whatcha lookin at? Hm?”

“Do you want to kiss me as bad as I want to kiss you right now?”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you from the moment you first told me ‘No’ when I asked to buy your piano, and then even more when you told me to get out of your store.”

“Why haven’t you then?” you ask breathlessly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I wanted you to be comfortable with the idea before I made my move,” he says, connecting your lips together for the first time.

You’ve never felt so comforted yet nervous by someone's touch before. He feels of danger and darkness, but comfort and safety at the same time. He could give you the best of both worlds, if you’d let him of course. Deepening the kiss he feels your hands snake under his shirt, learning the defined muscles across the area. Gojo caresses the side of your face in his left hand, bracing himself near your head on the right.

He pulls away, looking at the blown look in your eyes and chuckles softly. “As much as I would love for this to continue, I want to do this right with you and make sure this is really what you want.”

Gojo’s admission makes your hardened heart soften just a little bit. “Ever the gentleman, Gojo.”

“Still just Gojo after that?” he teases.

“The night is not over yet,” you sit up, shoving him backwards.

“Indeed it is not.”

“I can’t believe you’d be offended to be a hufflepuff. Don’t you know they say every slytherin needs a hufflepuff?”

Gojo ponders for a moment, a look on his face that makes you think he’s actually mulling over a serious thought inside his big ass head. “If you’re guaranteed to be my slytherin then I'd consider the change.”

“You’d change your Hogwarts house for me?” you look down to your hands sitting in your lap, a grin formed on your lips as you speak.

“I’d try to change the world for you,” Gojo whispers. Your head snaps up, looking into his eyes.

“That.. has to be the cheesiest thing i've ever heard on a first date,” you chuckle, making him laugh with you.

“Please, you were eating that up Birdie.” he attempts to play it off.

“Would you really though?”

“Of course,” he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Any chance we’ll do this again? Or am I banned?” Gojo asks, pulling your hand up to kiss your knuckles. Giggles leave your lips.

Leaning up, you place a kiss on his lips. “What do you think, Gojo?” you whisper. Gojo’s skin heats up, his face turning a light tinge of pink

“How about this friday?”

“That’s literally tomorrow,” you chuckle.

“Okay?” he questions, unsure where your worry is coming from. He'll ease all of your worries if you’d let him. He’d give you everything if you’d let him.

So what? He thinks

You pretend to mull it over in your head for a moment, “Okay.” you finally agree.

“Okay?” He seems almost puzzled.

“Okay. But no labels. And nothing extravagant.”

“Okay,” he smiles at you, offering one more kiss and a “See you tomorrow, Birdie.” Gojo leaves you standing in the doorway to your apartment, a light blush evident all over your cheeks. 

Heading inside you immediately call Ellie to thank her for being so thorough in telling Gojo everything about you. She was adamant she didn't know what you were talking about but said you’re welcome anyways. “Now, about Choso…” you start telling her the details about the double bunned man. 

A slew of dates followed the first one. He was determined to change your mind about no labels… and about not wanting anything extravagant. Gojo wanted to show you the world of opportunities he offered you by saying yes to being his. The second date he took you one was to the restaurant he owned at the marina. Some of the finest dining you’d ever seen. A complete turn around from the pancakes you’d had the night before. When you’d asked him what to wear this time, he’d told you not to worry, that something would show up for you soon. A sleek, black satin dress with a scoop neckline showed up at your store before your date, earning a genuine eye roll from you. 

“I said nothing extravagant, Gojo,” you scolded him as you stepped into the car. 

“The smile you’re attempting to hide from me betrays your words, Birdie,” he gloats from his seat next to you. “You look wonderful.”

“Just because I like playing dress up does not mean I'm not mad at you.”

Gojo grabs your hand, raising it to his lips to place a soft kiss on the back. The gesture never failing to make you blush. “Whatever you say, darling.”

“Sir, Nanami has just arrived at the restaurant. Should we change locations?” Suguru questions from the front seat. 

“No, this is my turf…” he begins speaking, his grip on your hand almost feels tighter as the words leave him. “...I won’t be made a fool of in my own establishment.”

“Nanami?” you whisper to Gojo who’s got a vice grip on his cellphone, typing angrily. Your hand comes to rest on his leg.

The stiffness in Gojo’s stature eased at the sound of your voice and the feeling of your touch. He wonders just where you’ve been all of his life. Your ability to make the darkness not seem so dark inside his mind makes him feel like there might be a point to all of this.

“He’s just a contact. Nothing for you to worry about, Birdie,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

Gojo loved taking photos. His camera roll was full of his favorite things to look at. Whether it was a nicely decorated room or a view he’d seen on a business trip. But now, his camera roll was full of one thing and one thing only; you. Photos of you from your first date, lying peacefully in the blanket fort with pillows surrounding your serene looking frame. He thought you looked beautiful when you were all dressed up, but he thought you looked your best when you were dressed down. Gojo just loved having reminders of your pretty face. 

He had other photos of you; sitting at your piano, or laying in his bed. Photos of you on every date he’d taken you on. So many videos of you singing along with the radio. Any song could come on when he was visiting you and you were able to match the tempo perfectly on the keys. Your voice always sounded sweet like honey in his ears. His favorite photo was the one you took with him, a selfie of you kissing his cheek. He felt like a teenage boy freaking out over his highschool crush when he spent almost an hour just grinning to himself while looking at the picture.

You were still hesitant to say you were fully in a relationship with him, even all these months later. He’d visit you every day in your store, telling you he’d be ready whenever you were. You were it for him, he was just waiting for you to be on the same page. 

Gojo smiled down at you laying on his chest. He’d rented a cabana at the beach and planned a day with you just to relax and be with each other. Talking of everything big and small. After you mentioned that you loved being around water, it seemed like every date had a water undertone to it. A dinner date at the marina. A trip to the aquarium. Day dates on his yacht, which often turned into sunset cruises. Multiple beach dates. This beach date started to remind you of Pretty Woman since Gojo offered to read your book to you while you rested your eyes.

As he read the words off the page all you could think about was how hard you’d fallen for this man without even being aware of it. You can't even pinpoint when it happened. What you do know is that looking up at him in this moment as he reads your book back to you, you’re head over heels for him. 

“This reminds me of Pretty Woman so much,” you chuckle, sitting up out of his hold.

“When he was reading to her under the tree?” 

“You’ve seen it?” you look at him with shock in your eyes. You’d never have thought in a million years Mr. Yakuza man would have seen such a chick flick.

“I hadn't before, but you’ve mentioned it so much I wanted to see what you were referring to,” Gojo admitted, closing the book with a thud. He sits up next to you, and caresses the side of your face. Leaning into his touch, you smile softly at him.

“You’re really determined, you know that?” you whisper.

Gojo rubs his thumb over the apple of your cheek, eyeing your mouth as he speaks. “Took you long enough to notice,” he places a soft kiss to your lips and feels you smile against his mouth.

“Who knew the big yakuza man had a soft side.” you chuckle, kissing him back.

“Only for you, darling. When are you gonna let me make it official and call you mine?” his thumb brushes over your bottom lip.

“Mm…” you start to think of what to say. You want to try this with him. He’s more than proved himself, but you still have reservations. Mostly because of who, or what he is. His life eats, sleeps and breathes danger. You just want to run your little music store in the middle of downtown. He’s making it easy to forget that life you had planned for yourself.” –I don't know. I’m scared.”

“I know you are, but I'm here when you’re ready.” His fingers thread their way into your hair as he lulls your head to the side and pressing his lips to your neck. “I have a question for you though,” he whispers against the surface. Gojo pulls back to gauge your reaction

Your eyes look glazed over and blown out, so he continues. Your hands find his shoulders in an attempt to hold yourself upright on the cabana bed. 

“Well, more of a request,” he hums. “I have an event tomorrow evening I need a date for. Would you be interested in accompanying me?

“Is it something fun?” you pull his head to be level with yours, looking directly at his lips with lust behind your gaze.

“Have I asked you to do anything so far that hasn't been fun?”

“No,” you shake your head at him and kiss him. Pushing him to lay back, your leg hikes up around his hip. “I would love to accompany you to your event tomorrow, Gojo.” 

“Still just Gojo, huh? Even when you’re trying to get into my trunks?” His teasing words make you retract your touch from his body, fully sitting up again. “Nuh uh, you get back here,” he laughs, pulling you back down with him making you giggle. Gojo gives you an onslaught of kisses all over your face, pulling more and more laughs from you; his second favorite thing to hear. He knows all of his favorite sounds will get outranked one day… he just has to wait for that day to come. Gojo slides his hands down your sides and digs his fingertips into your sides, making you squeal.

“S-stop! I’m ticklish!” you whine.

“Oh, and that’s supposed to make me want to stop?” He continues his playful assault, laughing along with you. You manage to get one up on him, swinging your leg over his hips so you’re straddling him. Taking hold of his wrists in your hands, you pin them on either side of his head, smirking down at him. “Mm, what’s your plan now, Birdie?” he shows off that million dollar smile. You cover his lips with yours, tasting the salt from the ocean on his skin. Gojo offers you a hum of approval at the feeling of your mouth on his, making you smile. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, making you gasp. Letting go of the grip on his wrists, your hands tangle into the white tufts of his hair. Gojo cups your jaw with both hands as he pulls you off of him. “We can't,” he whispers against your lips before you’re attaching your lips again. “Birdie,” he says, pulling you off again.

“What?” you ask, a grin plastered on your face. “Why can't we?”

“Well, number one we’re in public,” he motions to all the other couples scattered around the various surrounding cabanas. “And two, Suguru and Choso are not going to be getting an eyeful of what's mine,” he growls, taking your lips with his once more. You groan once he pulls away.

“I never said I was yours,” you tease, letting him sit up with you.

“You’ve always been mine…” he says, caressing the side of your face in one hand, “...ever since I stepped into your store for the first time.”

You clear your throat, “Right, about tomorrow though?”

Ellie won't let you see the dress you’re wearing; the only thing she’ll tell you is that it's red and beautiful. You decided to close up early since she’d offered to help you get ready. Gojo said he was going to take care of everything, but you at least asked if you could get ready yourself. Having strangers mess with your appearance wasn’t at the top of your ideal things to do today list.

Gojo told you to be ready by seven, he’d pick you up on the dot. You were sitting in the sink of your bathroom as you put your makeup on, paying extra close attention to the details today. Ellie stands behind you with the curling iron as you two argue over Gojo. You’re still adamant on not being ready, but Ellie keeps calling your bluff. 

“Why wont you just let yourself be happy?” Ellie asks as she helps you curl your hair. 

“You date a Yakuza and tell me you're not terrified at the end of the day,” you chuckle, sweeping your blush brush across your cheeks.

“So you’re telling me you dont like him?”

“That’s not what I said, I said I was scared.”

“So you do like him?” she asks excitedly. 

You do, and that’s what scares you. This was supposed to be just something fun for you. You never envisioned feeling this way. 

You nod slowly, “Probably too much,” the admission feeling like a weight off of your shoulders. “Think I’ll tell him tonight, if it goes as well as I'm hoping it does.” Ellie is bubbling with excitement at your words. She’s probably already planning your wedding.

“You’ve been leading him on for months now, just give in and see where it takes you!”

Ellie was kinda right. But in reality, you don’t owe him anything and you know that. But you do really want to see where this could possibly take you. You already feel so much for this man, but who knows what else could happen.

Gojo picked you up exactly when he said he would, knocking on your door at seven sharp. You open the door, and you’re met with your handsome date for the evening in a black on black suit with a red boutonniere on the left hand side that matches your dress impeccably well.

“You look… wow.”

A light blush forms on your cheeks at his words. “You look pretty wow yourself, Gojo.”

He takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the silky material of the gloves that stop just below your elbow. “You look fantastic, not just wow.” he smiles at you, placing a kiss on your cheek. “I have one more surprise,” he pulls a box from his jacket pocket.

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“Well, I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

♡ tags: @therealestpussyeater @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @semra4 @manyno @lostfracturess @starlostwish @h0nestly-though @celestie0 @username23345 @lulunx @sukunasdirtylaugh @wrenabbadon @bakuhoethotski @woundedfawn2002 @tbzzluvr @artist1936 @new-weather47 @nanasukii28 @yungbloode @phoenix-eclipses @deluluforcarlos55 @drakenswifeyy

[chaos-has-theories]

[Image ID: A simplistic drawing in the style of an old map. It shows Draggen Island and its closest surrounding canals from above. At the center is a small, brown cottage shown from the front. Circled in the mott around it lies an enormous snake eating its own tail. The snake has yellow eyes and is patterned in purple. In the bottom right corner it says Day 6: "Snakes". /End ID]

There is something about Ouroboroi in the Septimus Heap books, no? Septimus' dragon ring, Tod's intertwining snakes - and the Marsh Python in book 1.

I was always fascinated by the enormous snake reaching all the way around Keeper's Cottage. Despite the fact that it's described like just another one of those idle curiosities that dot the books, it almost feels like a protective circle around the characters. After all, the snake is only there because it got caught by the Big Freeze, and as soon as the ice melts, DomDaniel can come after them.

I don't know why I was convinced that it's another purple python. I reread the scene now; it's not. But I kind of like the association with Marcia - as if, even once she gets captured, she's somehow protecting Jenna and the boys.

[Image ID: The same drawing, photgraphed at an angle. It is focused on the cottage, and the snake's head is slightly blurry in the background. /End ID]

[varilien]

can you pls draw vash in his really nice cute bra 🥺

teehee yeah i think i can do that :3

(now available at my shop!)

[dogtoling]

controversial opinion but the change to big run scoring is really good and it should've been like this from the start. i love people being able to get the reward through effort instead of 95% of players being gated off of it arbitrarily in a gamemode that normally isn't competitive

[jonnywaistcoat]

cowboys vs pirates, the night circus, it's getting real 2012 in here.

You should see how many asks I've gotten about Nightvale!

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

Anyway prohibitedwish dark medieval mystery drama au. The story is interjected every so often by prismo and scarab arguing over what should happen next

[bibiana112]

Kinda weird question- do you have any links to people talking about Mira from ZTD and ableist stereotypes? I mentioned that I was uncomfortable with her portrayal but kinda fumbled it and made some other ND people in chat uncomfortable. I searched for various keyword combinations but most of what I'm finding is like "and not to mention the ableism with Mira" and doesn't elaborate lol.

Not weird at all! And uh, you see, there's a recent post I made where what I complain about is the very fact I've never seen anyone post too in-depth about her at all, I'd love to see posts that do elaborate on that but I do not have any that I know of right now, sorry :/ hopefully someone else who sees this can point to one? Okay!! After some tag searches I have found exactly one post who kind of gets into it I like this take still would love to see. more than just one but hooray

And like though I complain I couldn't elaborate much on it myself I don't think, I believe most of the posts people make about Saito from aitsf would apply since it's a different uchikoshi take on the very same trope of "emotionless characters who cannot function without killing others" I guess he's a worse portrayal though since she's at least not stated to get reward brain chemicals when killing people and I guess her case also has the added layer of "femme fatale" to it? Which either makes it less bad or worse depending on where you approach it from As I said I am not doing a good job of being coherent on this oh and also there's her being "redeemed" and "cured" in the epilogue which in on itself is kinda not great to imply it just goes away like that and honestly I personally don't even buy it I think she'd just be like oh okay Akane over here has like a thousand reasons to hate me after all that oh and what's that she's the leader of a super wealthy underground organization who's organized one of these death traps before yeah no I'm better off going to prison I'll be fine there lmao bye

But I'll say as an autistic person with relatively low empathy I usually see a character who just doesn't understand other people's feelings and wants to feel them too and is just trying to survive despite getting no help and I just kinda go hm. yeah. shout-out to roxas kingdom hearts shout out to mary from ib shout out that's why I started hyperfixating on media art helps me with understanding others a great lot and Mira is just in a story too badly executed for me to care or even begin to wrap my head around tbh like god she's so fucking terribly used as a plot device in every conceivable way that it makes it difficult to see past it and into what she could possibly be if it weren't for the stereotype of equalling low empathy with no compassion what's with her killing off screen in ways that wildly deviate from her stated m.o? why or how was she even in cahoots with Zero why was that a thing? Honestly her dynamic with Sean could have been better fleshed out could have done something interesting about robot child and his aspd big sis but we just kind of don't get any attention brought to the subject of emotions and the authenticity there of except for the "reveal"...

YOU KNOW WHAT that's probably one huge reason it feels so fucked up actually! Like the whole fucking game is written so you could experience it in whatever order you want and therefore Mira being a serial killer at all is something that though not very well hidden it also cannot be a topic of discussion or explored Ever ever because the player may not have seen the fragment where that is revealed yet- problem being the menu design of that game sucks so bad and practically everyone gravitates towards the same few more interesting looking thumbnails first and then the rest is kinda just there, I mean that is part of the reason A Lot of characters feel half-baked I think but also I think it definitely does impact perception of her character specifically probably The Most and then there's just the general not being given nuance not being able to see the minutiae of how that disorder manifests in her character aside from the killings about how she acts aside from being overly flirty trying to lure in Eric but that affects pretty much all of the new cast we don't have last names and in her case we barely have any backstory at all like Saito is a harmful stereotype sure but we get So Much Context for him that people still love talking about him and delving into different aspects of his life since we have that very well telegraphed in the narrative meanwhile for Mira all we can do is fill in the blanks guesswork that only highlights the worst aspects of the surface level portrayal we got and ultimately that people just don't care enough to dissect because there isn't much there character wise once you remove it

[etapereine]

.

[hamsterwalled]

I absolutely love it when Mob and Reigen just look at the people they're fighting and with their whole chests just go, "you're the biggest loser I've ever met and you're not fucking special" and suddenly the people they're fighting are like, "oh my god you're right I am a loser and I'm not special" and then they're bffs and everything is great

[foolishnpd]

I wonder why I straight up suppress and hide my more arrogant/better than thou/grandiose side of myself? I guess I get the feeling that it comes off as a very assholish way to act, nobody likes a self centered person right? but I also wonder if being more open with that side would just make me look more confident, which does attract people... my old friend was like that, toxic as hell but had that sort of confidence that drew people in