#or on some screens it'll say 'Chaos .'

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141!(Part 5)

The shithead owner decides that he needs to sign up for a "restaurant renovation" show. Chaos ensues.

"A fucking TV show?"

Gaz frowns while polishing glasses.

"Told him it was a bad idea."

Price shrugs, lighting a cigar. You are horrified, being on the screen for millions of people to see was nerve wracking. And it'll be the first time you meet the owner.

"Restaurant renovation... Lik' he gives twa fucks aboot renovating this shitehole."

Johnny ashes his smoke and passes it to you. You take a deep drag and sigh, this is gonna be a disaster.

~

Cameras are set up everywhere, everyone's mic'd up, there are too many people in too small of a space. Some obnoxiously loud man introduces himself. He seems to be an amalgamation of every TV host you've ever seen, wearing too much cologne and too much hair gel. He puts a hand on your shoulder,

"The place looks terrible but at least they got something nice to look at here."

He flashes a smile, cheap veneer blindingly white. You awkwardly laugh while Price steps in, introducing himself. You scurry away to the back where the rest of the boys are,

"I want everyone to be on their best behavior today. No fucking around. Don't make me look bad."

The owner is a bland man, average height and weight, with a shitty haircut and wearing an ugly flashy shirt. He turns around and briefly introduces himself, he already smells like liquor. Great. He gets waved over to get interviewed by the host. You and the guys watch from the other end of the restaurant. It's quite embarrassing, the host pointing out how run down the place looks, the menu is confusing and overwhelming, and then asks if he's drunk,

"I can smell the alcohol from here Carl... it's only 11am buddy."

The owner stutters and blinks,

"I- just uh, just a crazy night is all."

The host stares, unconvinced. Carl shifts awkwardly in his chair. The next segment was ordering food apparently, so you were up. You walk up to the table as the host asks you a barrage of questions,

"How would you say the fish is here? Is everything fresh? What do you think of the steak? Do you have any recommendations?"

When you say you only ate the fries from here and he laughs loudly,

"That is not a good sign folks!"

He stares at the camera, showing off teeth that were too big for his mouth before you walk off and punch in the order. There's a cameraman recording John and Simon cooking,

"Steak and potatoes."

John reads the slip out loud, they move around the kitchen while the owner watches. For such a simple dish there's a lot of chaos, Carl is yelling at them to move faster and cook properly, John is busy arguing with Carl and burns the steak, Simon plates up the food and hands it off to you. You place the plate down in front of the host,

"Oh...oh my God..."

You keep a straight face, hands behind your back. The host looks back up at you,

"Does the food usually come out like this?"

There's a tone of disgust and concern, his eyebrows turned up, you shrug. He stares back down at the filet and cuts into it,

"It's very impressive that one is able to overcook such a large piece of meat. That takes...skill."

You watch concertedly as he picks up a piece and puts it into his mouth, it looks like he wants to cry.

He goes on to complain about the quality of the food to the camera as he walks to the kitchen,

"At least it's clean back here. I've seen kitchens in wors- is that a fucking pigeon?"

Sure enough, there is. How the fuck did it get in here?

"Oh! I just left the door open to let some fresh air in..."

Carl awkwardly tries to catch the bird while the boys watch amusedly, even the camera crew stifle a laugh.

"Christ Almighty, what is wrong with you man?"

The host shakes his head, watching the whole scene in disbelief. Eventually, the bird is out of the building and the sweep of the kitchen continues.

"Food is not expired, everything is stored properly, it's all very well organized. I was honestly expecting worse."

The host walks up to the bar next, plucking up bottles and examining them,

"So, Kyle is it? How long have you been working here for?"

"Just a little over five years."

Gaz leans against the bar. There's a gasp and the host waves the camera over,

"Look at this shit,"

He points at the label,

"Expired in August,"

You look over at Gaz and Soap, they look like they're about to piss themselves, holding back laughs.

"Of 2012!"

The host looks disgusted,

"Why didn't you throw this away?"

"Carl told me to not toss anything."

Kyle shrugged. Soap is almost in tears, shaking, trying to bite back a howl of laughter.

The next two days are like this, you don't know why Carl hasn't pulled the plug on this fiasco yet,

"I think he's getting drunker as the days go by."

Johnny says, ashing his cigarette. There's a nod from Simon,

"I think he enjoys being embarrassed, seems like the type to get off on that."

'The big finale' as the host calls it, means getting a new menu, refreshing the cooks(John's) skills, and cleaning out the bar. The place is opened and there's a line out of the door. It's overwhelming, the customers are putting on a show, acting like dickheads and sending everything back even when there's nothing wrong with the food. Simon and John are on top of everything, putting out food as fast as possible, Carl is shitting himself running around the kitchen like a headless chicken. The night goes by fast and everyone is at the bar,

"So the cooks are for the most part competent, the waitress is amazing, and the bartender is well... The man can do no wrong. The problem here is you,"

The host points at Carl who is fucking sloshed swaying back and forth,

"I genuinely think this restaurant would be better off without you."

Carl starts bawling. The host is visibly uncomfortable. The boys and you are looking at each other. Then when all the cameras and lights are gone, it's all back to normal. Carl is looking for reassurance from anyone and you and the boys just pack up and head home, Price patting him on the back,

"You'll be alright."

~

A few months later, you're all sat on the couch watching the TV. Johnny's over the moon pointing at the screen,

"Look thare A am! See hou sexy A look?"

He's smiling and waving at the camera in the background of the scene where Carl is crying his eyes out. That gets a laugh out of Gaz,

"You're a sick bastard, Soap."

Once the episode dropped, the restaurant got busy for a few months. Most of the customers are horny women ogling at Kyle. On occasion you get the request to bring out "the scary looking one" and you just laugh it off.

"You're so lucky working with all these guys, I don't know if I'd be able to control myself,"

A particularly drunk woman said to you one day. You just smile while Kyle winks at you over his shoulder.

[luveline]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

the tension between you and miguel rises to an all-time high —a ficlet featuring a grumpy miguel and a flirty, distracted spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. fem!reader, 1k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel has asked you multiple times to leave him alone while he's working. The strike force can't run itself (or so he claims —Margo and Lyla seem plenty capable, in your eyes) and he needs time and solitude to organise the protection of canon events, and—

"Blah, blah, blah," you say, dropping your voice to a soft, teasing melody as you skirt around his frankly audaciously jacked chest. 

"Don't blah, blah, blah me," Miguel says. You'd be intimidated if you weren't so happy to mess with him. "I'm not kidding around." 

Okay, maybe you are intimidated. That just makes messing with him more fun. 

The room he operates from, as you've so fondly monikered The Office, is in organised chaos, and much too dark. You drag a lone chair toward his control panel and set yourself down in front of all his screens and computers. 

"Ooh," you hum, reaching for an unlabelled switch with a purposeful slowness. 

Predictably, Miguel slams his hand over yours, yanking your chair back with an annoyed, "No." 

"Come on, Miguel. What harm could I possibly do?"

"You could–" 

"Topple the multiverse?" you suggest. "I've heard." 

"You could turn off every member of the Society's DMW. That's what that does. Potentially endangering each of their lives by stranding them in unfamiliar dimensions, and preventing them from correcting canon events." 

You feel bad for teasing him when you see the look on his face, anger and exhaustion and the slimmest allowance of defeat. It must be tough to lead the Spider-Society. Tougher to micromanage more than half of its members. 

Pulling your hand from under his, you cross your arms over your stomach and give him an apologetic frown. "Sorry, Miguel."

Evidence of his sweet spot for you lines his expression, softening his sharp jaw and the stoic set of his brow. It's gone as quick as it came, and his mask falls back into place. He turns away from you as though pretending you aren't there and scans one of his holographic screens, his face glowing with a yellow-orange haze. 

Miguel has to tolerate you, because you're a Spider-Girl. Though you've never called yourself that aloud, and you're not sure anyone else has, either, it's an undeniable truth. You were bitten by a radioactive spider that gave you super mutant abilities, though yours aren't as potent as others. You're not especially strong, you probably couldn't stop a bus with your bare hands, but you're smart. You haven't saved the world or anything, but you lost your Uncle Ben. You paid the toll. 

Every spider person has lost someone. Miguel seems to have lost more than that. 

"You know," you mumble, kicking the ground lightly to make your chair spin on its axle, "I've been thinking…" 

"That's never good." 

"Why do we wear our suits here?" you ask, spinning for a second time, the room moving past your eyes in flashes. "It seems performative." 

"Ah, I can answer that. Some of us work when we're here." 

You wrinkle your nose at his deadpan and kick the floor again, spinning so fast it makes you laugh. "What did you say? I can't hear you from your high horse– woah!" 

Miguel grabs the back of your chair, bringing you to a sudden and firm stop. You blink hoping it'll assuage the dizziness between your eyes, and when it doesn't work you keel forward, muttering, "Woah, I'm gonna die." 

"You won't die." 

"How do you know?" you ask. 

"You're under my watch, aren't you?" 

"I knew you liked me," you say. "Oh, I don't feel well." 

"You brought it on yourself." 

You catch your breath. When you feel okay enough to stand you almost trip, and Miguel doesn't bother pretending that he had any intention of stopping you from landing flat on your face. The you before the spider bite would've wiped out. This you giggles and holds Miguel's elbow for a second while you plant your feet. 

"Okay, boss-man," you ask, looking up at the unnaturally high screen he's investigating. "What are we doing today?" 

"I'm supervising a task force operation on Earth-31913. You're going home." 

"Miguel," you say, not sure if you want to flirt with him or piss him off. He looks incredibly pissed off already, so you choose flirtation. "Have I told you how handsome you look this evening?" 

He doesn't react. His hands don't so much as shift where they're akimbo on his hips. 

"You really have the most handsome eyes," you continue, weaving around his arm to stand in front of him. You have to crane your neck to see them. "Sulky. Do I really have to go home? I'd rather stay here with you." 

He looks down his nose at you. "Yeah?" he asks quietly, his voice rough as hewn stone.

"Yeah," you say, taking a small step back. 

"And do what?" 

You mirror his stance, hands on your hips. Your suit isn't form fitting like his, doesn't showcase nearly so much lean muscle, but you like it. You'd chosen a simple black ensemble to match the spider who bit you with a pinky purple heart over your stomach. Miguel had asked about it once, just once, when you'd first met and he had no idea how much of a problem for him you were going to become. 

Why there? 

Why do you think? you'd asked, giving him a sticky-sweet smile. 

Forget I asked. 

He lifts a hand to your chin, pinching it between two deft fingers. You're lucky he isn't wearing his gloves; his claws would pierce your jaw. 

"What do you want to do?" he asks, again so quietly. "If you stay?" 

"I could help with the task force." 

"That's what you want to do?" 

You flush with heat but refuse to let him know how you're feeling. Your heart bumps against your ribs, breath caught in your throat as he tilts your head up, as he leans down. 

"No," he says near your lips, "that's not it." 

"I could help you?" you offer. 

Something flashes in his eyes. You hesitate to call it lust. It reminds you of a cat with a mouse in it’s clutches, only his pupils are blown, black and inky and wide as dimes. 

"You want to help me?" he asks, his lips an inch, half of that from yours. 

You nod minutely. "Yes," you say under your breath. 

His hand moves to your cheek. He leans in closer and closer, until there's a hair's width of air between his mouth and yours, the tips of your noses bent together. His breath fans over your bottom lip and it's hot. You swear you can feel his heart as his chest presses to yours. He lingers there for an endless handful of seconds, silently egging you on.

You call his bluff and refuse to close the distance. 

Miguel pushes you away from him, far from cruel but certainly not sweet. "I have a tower of paperwork you can file," he says. 

"Here I thought you were finally going to bite my head off," you hum. "You're a sore loser, Miguel." 

"And you're my pest," he says, holding your gaze for a half-second too long. He turns away. "Lyla? Arrange the recounts from the last canon event for Spider-Girl's perusal, please." 

"So you've remembered I'm here?" Lyla asks wryly.

You don't mind the paperwork. You sign each one with a winky face and a pink gel pen heart, knowing Miguel will go over them all again, and knowing he'll grow angrier and angrier with each heart.

He'll kiss you and mean it one day. You just have to play the waiting game.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

[m-ayo-o]

　✦　˚ your hot psycho course mate ★⋆. ࿐࿔

𐙚 light blackmails reader (she knows a little about kira) into doing his bidding with the death note -_- college au [21+]

*　✦　.　nsfw cw: DARK CONTENT non consent: reader is blackmailed → dubious consent: she enjoys it. threat, murder, oral, toy use; clit clamp, ring gag. overstimulation, squirting  ˚　.   *

He's your snobby stuck up college course mate and there's nothing about him that you like. He's a smug fucking bastard and you wish he'd stop staring at you in class.

Luck isn't on your side, since he gets you to himself when you're paired into a group project together. Typical, that you get put with this creep.

He manages to lure you back to his place because it's bigger and more comfortable than your small single apartment.

And that's when he first shows you it...

A black book...

It looks simple enough, but when he pulls it out of the drawer you start to shiver and he tells you what he could do to you... if you disobeyed him.

"What the fuck are you talking about," you knew he was weird, but this is too much, "Light?"

"Get on your knees"

He gives you a smirk like he expects you to do what he says. He knows you will sooner or later.

But you laugh and scoff.

"What?"

Your laughter turns nervous when he just keeps staring and you stutter something about needing to leave. But his left hand circles around your wrist in a bruising grip and his right finds a pen.

"Stay still"

The TV is on. Some stupid talk show.

He scribes something down on the white lined paper. A name, in immaculate handwriting.

He's finished. Time goes slack.

"Watch"

He takes your chin between his fingers and points your face towards the screen.

He studies his watch.

"Now"

Your eyes are glued to the TV. Your lip starts to tremble and you see one of the talk show contestants start to convulse. His whole body shakes, he chokes out a few terrible noises and collapses right there on the set.

The entire TV station descends into chaos and the channel abruptly goes blank.

"See?"

It's him, it's really him. Kira is real. And he's in your class. Undetected... A normal student???

"No-"

There's nothing normal about him.

Your eyes blink up to meet his hollow glare and you slowly shake your head, terrified.

"Come here," his hand slithers up your arm and rests on your shoulder- the one he knows you hurt in netball practice the other week- and he squeezes. You wince and he pulls you closer.

"Say no again, pretty girl"

You didn't.

And when he touched you, god, all you could think about was how good it felt...

Your pleasure points... Your pain... He controls it all...

And you succumb to his touch until your wrists are bound to his bedframe, your eyes are bleary from it all and you momentarily lose sight of him.

"Light?"

You call out like you need him.

His body looms over you. He removed his shirt and pants. He stripped you bare.

He has something in his hand.

"What's that.."

He hushes you and slips something cold and hard in your mouth. It feels like a circle. Your mouth is forced open. You can still breathe.

You gasp and he lets out a sinister chuckle.

Then attaches a toy to your clit.

"Oo-wh--"

You can't talk.

"Don't worry it'll feel good."

It clamps onto you hard and starts buzzing.

The vibrations are so intense your eyes well up with fresh tears of overstimulation and he watches your legs twitch and your hips buck with a painfully hard orgasm. You can't control it. Liquid starts spilling out of you and the mattress feels unbearably wet. Your arms tug at the ropes and you let out some cute weak noises from the confines of your ring gag.

"Haha, wow, you look cute when you squirt" he finally takes his boxers off and shows you what he's packing...

"Uh-" your efforts to back away only get him harder.

He approaches you and climbs over your body, pressing his knees either side of your shoulders and he slaps your face with his dick.

"You can't say no, remember?"

You're not in a position to say no.

Do you even want to?

Your mouth gapes and you start drooling, the vibrations continue and you feel like you're about to cum again. Your eyes flutter back and he calls you a good little slut before sinking his cock through the metal ring and over your wet tongue.

He gets himself off with your mouth but you can barely suck him due to the compromising metal ring. Your saliva drips everywhere; down your chin, over your neck, and he starts using your throat.

He hums with pleasure when you gag and everything gets a bit dirty and hot and you swear you've never been so turned on in your life.

He finally takes his cock out and releases you from the gag...

The first words that spill out of your mouth leave you shocked. But he's not surprised at all.

Just amused.

"Light- fuck-- fuck me??"

Your thighs are holding onto the clit clamp so tight he can barely open your legs.

But when he manages to spread them and finds the mess you've made... your juice so slick and dripping in filthy strings from your thighs...

"Oh," he lets out a moan, "good girl"

His praise and that expression on his face make him look so... hot. Your body shudders at the thought of finding him so attractive but he coaxes out a few more whimpered noises to the tune of begging and he slides his cock through your mess.

"Now, aren't you so glad we played this little game?"

A game of blackmail and murder.

You nod slowly and he tells you how pretty you look. Your pussy starts throbbing and sucking him in and, with the vibrator still on full power, he sinks in and you cum over his cock instantly.

"Finally got something to cum around, huh. Feel good, angel?"

You nod and he fucks you stupid.

You can't stop asking him for more and he gives you exactly what you want.

He gets everything he needs and more and he thinks this could be quite a nice arrangement.

Now, after college, you get yourselves into a little routine and, even after your group project is finished, you make a habit of getting fucked by your hot psycho course mate.

[f14fun]

lay all your love on me - op81 (C2)

synopsis: in which oscar piastri and a university student begging for her euro summer vacation collide in a steamy, abba-inspired romance

prose (6.1K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | series index ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

02: Love, Sweat, and Secondhand Embarrassment

"Clemmy I swear I wanted to die that entire time. Whoever I offended in an alternate universe I am so so sorry, I truly believe karma is real now," I lamented, voice weak.

Burying my head in my pillow, I could finally appreciate the cool blast of AC (well, it was a little bit of air conditioning but a little is better than nothing) I scratched my right leg that was hoisted up onto the blue duvet cover. If not for the horrible comedic timing of everything, in that moment, I might have said that I was enjoying myself.

On the other line of the phone, thousands of miles away, it was a completely different story.

"What the fuck," Clementine could barely muster out because she was laughing so hard.

"I still don't think any part of this story is funny, Clem," I roll my eyes and trail off.

"But it is! You genuinely should consider a career in stand-up comedy. If you recounted all of this in front of a paying live audience, I'm just saying it could make you a millionaire overnight," Clementine wheezed.

"Oh, shut up, bitch," I retorted, trying to suppress a smile despite my mortification.

"You know it's true though!" Her girlish giggles rang through my room. I could see her face through the screen and it looked like visible tears were streaming down her face from how funny she found this to be.

"I am completely and utterly humiliated. There is no way I can go downstairs and face everyone right now," I whined. It was true, as twenty minutes ago, mid-Facetime with Clementine, I heard the door to the foyer open and heard a lot of new noises.

New people. The neighbors. The rest of the Australians.

Crikey, mate.

There was no way I could face them. And since Oscar was probably their son (he looked way too young to be a father) he had probably already told them about the wretched and humiliating mishap.

"Seriously, Clemmy, you don’t get it," I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice but failing miserably. "This is not just some embarrassing story. This is my life, and I have to face these people now."

Clementine’s laughter finally started to subside, and she took a deep breath. "Okay, okay, I get it. But you have to admit, this is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of disaster. You can’t just ignore it. It’s like the universe is telling you to embrace the chaos."

I sighed, feeling a bit more grounded with her calming tone. "Yeah, well, I’m not exactly feeling the universe’s love right now. I feel like I’ve been dropped into some kind of sitcom. And what if they think I’m a total klutz? I can’t even begin to imagine how Oscar must’ve described me."

"It'll be fine. You are a pro at handling horrible situations. I mean, I can really only think that you have had more bad experiences with guys than good ones!" Clem tried to reassure me.

"Wow, thanks," I deadpanned. "Way to make a girl feel special."

Clementine's voice was full of playful sympathy. "Hey, I’m just saying, you’ve survived everything life’s thrown at you so far. Besides, look at it this way: if they’re judging you based on this one incident, they’re missing out on getting to know the amazing person you are."

"Yeah, because nothing says 'amazing' like face-planting into a pile of shampoo and knocking over a bunch of cleaning supplies," I said, sarcasm dripping from my tone.

Clementine laughed. "Exactly! And let’s be honest, if they do judge you for this, they’re definitely not worth your time. Besides, Oscar might even think you’re charming in a clumsy, endearing kind of way. You never know."

"You should really consider a career in therapy. If I lay here and close my eyes for a bit and sleep for three hours surely your advice will work," I retorted.

"Oh be so serious with me now,"

"I am! Now I can add a new skill to my LinkedIn profile," I said, trying to stifle a giggle. "How about 'Expert in Catastrophic Bathroom Mishaps: Master of Turning Shower Encounters into Slapstick Comedy'?"

Clementine burst into laughter. “That’s quite a title! It’s like you’ve got a whole new niche market for yourself.”

“Right? I’m just waiting for the endorsement from ‘The Association of Embarrassing Bathroom Incidents,’” I said, imagining a badge with that exact title. What a big, fat, fucking joke.

“Or maybe you'll become the keynote speaker for the 'International Conference on Unexpected Water-Based Accidents,’” Clementine added, her voice full of amusement.

“I’ll make sure to include a workshop on ‘How to Survive a Bathroom Collision with Dignity and Humor,’” I said with a chuckle. “And don’t forget the seminar on ‘Turning Slip-and-Fall Disasters into Networking Opportunities.’”

“A career to consider!” Clementine laughed. “And you know what? I’ll be your first fan. Just remember to keep me updated on how your new ‘disastrous bathroom mishap’ career is going.”

“I’ll make sure to do that,” I promised with a smile. “Thanks for the laugh. It’s nice to know that even in the middle of a fiasco, I can count on you to turn it into a comedy show.”

"What can I say, I will never turn down listening to a free shit show," Clementine winked at me through the camera.

"Clem! What the hell!" I waved my manicured pointed nail at her.

"Bye! Don't die from embarrassment before you come back!" She quipped, then promptly hung up.

I lay sprawled on my bed, dreading the thought of going downstairs and facing the group of new neighbors. The whole idea made me cringe. I was just about to mentally prepare myself for the awkward introductions when a sudden knock on my door jolted me upright. My heart raced as I called out lazily, “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw Oscar standing there. His eyebrow was raised, and he wore a cheeky grin that did nothing to ease my nerves.

"Well, well, well," he said with an amused smirk. "Looks like you’ve been having quite the chat with 'dearest Clemmy,' haven’t you?"

My face flushed beet red, and I stuttered, struggling to find my words. “W-What are you doing here?”

Oscar leaned casually against the doorframe, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Oh, you know, just overheard you and Clemmy talking about our little mishap. I believe you mentioned something about me being ‘a charming yet infuriating Aussie who managed to turn your bathroom break into a comedy skit.’”

I blinked, stunned into silence. My mouth opened and closed, but no coherent words came out. The sheer embarrassment was overwhelming. Oscar’s casual demeanor and his cheeky grin only made things worse.

“What can I say, my name was called,” Oscar continued with a mischievous glint in his eye. “If someone keeps calling you hot, I mean, wouldn’t you be too curious to listen?”

His smirk only made my breath hitch and my fingers tremble a little more. I could feel my cheeks burning, and I struggled to come up with a response. The playful glint in his eye and his casual attitude did nothing to alleviate my embarrassment. Instead, they only made me feel more flustered.

I took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “W-Well, I guess I didn’t think anyone would be actually listening.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow playfully, his smirk widening. “Oh, I’m sure you didn’t. But it was too good to pass up. Especially the part where you called me a ‘human wrecking ball.’”

My face flushed a deeper shade of crimson. “Great. Just great,” I muttered, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m sure I’ve made a fantastic first impression.”

Oscar chuckled, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Look, it’s all good. I’ve seen worse first impressions. Trust me. At least you didn’t accidentally set off the fire alarm or flood the place.”

I managed a weak smile, still feeling the sting of embarrassment. “Yeah, well, I’ll try to keep any future disasters to a minimum.”

Look at me, constantly embarrassing myself in front of hot guys. This was the exact reason why I was still bitchless and socially awkward at the ripe age of twenty-one. I could navigate a spreadsheet like a pro, ace exams, and even master the perfect contour, but put me in a room with a cute guy, and I turned into a walking calamity.

I sighed internally, already dreading the inevitable teasing I’d get from Clemmy once she found out I had, yet again, failed to keep my cool around a guy. Maybe I should’ve just stayed in the bathroom and let the ground swallow me whole.

Oscar raised an eyebrow, studying me with a curious look. “You know, you seem like a completely different person right now. Way quieter, more shy… less daring.”

My face flushed with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. “That’s not true,” I snapped, crossing my arms defensively. “I’m exactly the same as I was before.”

Oscar’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on me. “Sure, if you say so. But the girl who almost took me down like a rugby player in the bathroom seemed a lot more fearless.”

My nose flared as I shot him a glare, feeling the fire of indignation rise within me. Who did he think he was, making assumptions about me? I’ll show him just how brave I can be, I thought, my fists clenching. If he wanted to see daring, then I’d make sure he regretted ever doubting me. The nerve of this guy! He might have been hot, but that didn’t give him the right to push my buttons like this.

Oscar gave me a lopsided grin, clearly pleased with himself. "Anyway, everyone’s heading downstairs to meet each other. Figured I’d let you know, since, you know, it’s probably not the best idea to hide out up here forever."

My stomach twisted with nerves at the thought of facing everyone after that humiliating encounter. The idea of meeting new people while still reeling from my disastrous introduction to Oscar was daunting. But there was no way I was going to let him see how nervous I actually was. I took a deep breath, nodding stiffly. "Fine, let’s get this over with."

As we walked out of the room and toward the stairs, I could feel Oscar’s presence behind me—large, imposing, and annoyingly close. My face heated up, and I silently cursed myself for blushing yet again. Why did this guy have to make everything so difficult?

It was like shooting a sitting duck. A little small talk, a smile, and baby, I was stuck. I was a grown woman, for god’s sake, not some teenager swooning over a crush. But there I was, getting flustered over a guy I barely knew. Get a grip, I told myself, trying to shake off the absurdity of the situation. This wasn’t supposed to happen—I wasn’t supposed to be this easily charmed.

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I hesitated, gripping the railing a little longer than usual. I could feel Oscar’s gaze on me, and it only made my nerves worse. Just as I was about to take the first step down, his hand brushed against mine. The contact was brief but enough to send a jolt of awareness through me. His hand was rough with calluses, moderately enveloping mine in a way that felt both comforting and disarming.

What was it about this guy that made me feel so uncharacteristically off-balance? As I tried to steady my racing thoughts, I reminded myself that I had to keep it together. After all, I wasn’t about to let some smooth-talking Aussie turn me into a lovesick fool—no matter how much my traitorous heart seemed to enjoy the challenge.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, my eyes were drawn to two adults who were deep in conversation with my mom. Their warm, friendly demeanor and unmistakable Australian accents told me they were Oscar’s parents. They seemed just as lively and outgoing as he was, which only added to the strangeness of this entire situation.

Then, I spotted Oscar’s siblings—a trio of sisters who looked like carbon copies of him, yet each had her own distinct vibe, like different fonts of the same typeface. They were laughing and joking with each other, their bond evident in the way they effortlessly engaged in light-hearted banter. I felt a pang of envy, wishing I had siblings to share that kind of closeness with.

My daydream was abruptly shattered when Oscar’s large, warm hand clasped onto my shoulder, his fingers pressing gently but firmly against my skin. The unexpected touch sent a jolt through me, making me jump slightly as a flush of heat rushed to my cheeks. His chuckle, deep and amused, rumbled behind me, the sound wrapping around me like a teasing caress. He was standing on the step just above me, close enough that I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. His presence was unmistakably felt—broad, solid, and way too close for comfort, yet somehow not close enough.

His fingers lingered on my shoulder, almost as if he was testing my reaction, and I could feel the warmth radiating from his touch, seeping into my skin. The space between us seemed to shrink with every passing second, and I could barely concentrate on anything but the weight of his hand and the steady beat of my heart hammering in my chest.

Oscar leaned in slightly, his voice low and smooth as honey. “Jumpier than I thought,” he drawled, his tone dripping with playful mischief. “Didn’t take you for the shy type. Especially not after our little bathroom tango.” His grin widened, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a way that was both infuriating and ridiculously charming.

My pulse quickened at the way he was looking at me—those eyes sparkling with amusement, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. I swallowed hard, my mind racing to come up with a retort, but all I could focus on was how his hand, still resting on my shoulder, felt both protective and possessive. The air between us crackled with a tension that was impossible to ignore, and I had to remind myself to breathe.

I could quite literally cut the sexual tension with the dullest fucking butterknife in the world.

I tried to muster a sharp retort, something that would wipe that smug grin off his face, but my brain was too busy short-circuiting to cooperate. All I could manage was a stuttered, “I-I’m not shy! You just—caught me off guard, that’s all.” The words tumbled out, weak and unconvincing, and I mentally cringed at how feeble they sounded.

Oscar’s grin only grew, clearly enjoying my flustered state. He leaned in a little closer, his gaze locked on mine with a playful intensity that made my heart skip a beat. “Off guard, huh?” he murmured, his voice dipping lower. “So, you’re saying if I hadn’t surprised you, you’d be able to keep up?”

I opened my mouth to respond, determined to regain some semblance of dignity, but nothing clever came out. Instead, I just stood there, caught between wanting to pull away from his teasing and feeling inexplicably drawn to his warmth. His hand slid from my shoulder, and the absence of his touch left a surprising chill in its wake.

Realizing that my window for a comeback was closing, I finally managed to sputter, “Y-Yeah, exactly.” I immediately cursed myself for sounding so pathetic. Not exactly the sharp comeback I was hoping for. His smirk deepened, and I could tell he wasn’t buying it for a second.

“Sure, whatever you say,” Oscar replied, his tone still dripping with amusement. He straightened up, giving me a quick wink before stepping down to the next stair. The playful glint in his eyes told me he knew exactly how much he was getting under my skin, and he was loving every second of it.

As he moved past me, I finally found my voice—too little, too late—and muttered under my breath, “Cocky bastard.” But it was quiet enough that I hoped he didn’t hear it. To my dismay, Oscar paused, turning back with a raised eyebrow and an even wider grin.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Care to repeat it?”

My cheeks flamed as I quickly shook my head. “Nope, nothing. Let’s just… go meet everyone.”

Oscar’s grin didn’t falter as he took a step closer, still looming above me. “You know,” he began, his voice casual but with that familiar teasing edge, “I’ve already met everyone else. Your mom, too. And I’ve gotta say, you two seem like complete opposites.”

I blinked up at him, caught off guard again. “Opposites?”

He nodded, leaning against the wall with that effortless ease he seemed to have perfected. “Yep. Your mom’s all smiles and warm welcomes. You, on the other hand… well, you’ve got this whole ‘ready to throw punches’ vibe going on.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to gauge whether he was being serious or just messing with me again. “I do not have a ‘ready to throw punches’ vibe.”

Oscar’s lips twitched like he was holding back a laugh. “Oh, you totally do. But don’t worry,” he added with a playful smirk, “it’s kind of endearing. Keeps things interesting.”

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. “Glad to know I’m so entertaining for you.”

He shrugged, unfazed. “Hey, I’m just saying, opposites attract, right? Besides, your mom already likes me. You could take a few notes.”

His comment sent a fresh wave of warmth to my cheeks, both from irritation and something I couldn’t quite place. “I don’t need notes from you,” I shot back, though my voice lacked its usual bite.

Oscar just chuckled, giving me one last teasing wink before turning to head down the stairs. “Whatever you say, mate. Just try not to tackle anyone else while you’re at it.”

"Well well well, what do we have here?" A girl with short hair and a devious grin matching Oscar's grinned at me as well entered the kitchen. Shimmering her hands like "jazz hands", she rolled her eyes and rested her chin in the palm of her hand.

I turned to face the new arrival, immediately recognizing her as one of Oscar’s sisters—one of the three siblings who seemed to share his penchant for mischief. Her cropped hair and sharp, playful eyes made her look like she’d just stepped out of a rom-com where she was the resident troublemaker, always stirring the pot and having a laugh at everyone else’s expense.

“Hey, party people,” she said, her voice dripping with a teasing lilt. She shot me a grin that was almost a mirror image of Oscar’s, mischievous and knowing, like she was in on some inside joke I hadn’t been let in on yet. I could feel the same heat from before creeping up my neck. Why did it feel like these siblings were reading me like an open book?

“Looks like someone’s already made a grand entrance,” she continued, flicking her eyes between me and Oscar with an amused smirk. “Oscar’s been talking about you nonstop since we got here. Said something about a ‘bathroom fiasco’ that deserves an award?”

I shot a glare at Oscar, who was leaning casually against the counter, looking far too pleased with himself. “Did he now?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the mortification clawing at me.

The girl laughed, light and musical, but with an edge that told me she was fully enjoying every bit of this. “Oh yeah, he’s been filling us in. But don’t worry, we’re used to his tall tales. I’m Hattie, by the way,” she added, extending a hand with exaggerated enthusiasm as if we were meeting on the set of a game show rather than in my kitchen.

I hesitated for a beat before shaking her hand, trying to muster a smile that didn’t look too forced. “Nice to meet you, Hattie. I’m—”

“Oh, I know who you are,” she interrupted, her grin widening. “You’re the girl who almost took out my brother. Honestly, I’m impressed. No one’s ever managed to knock him off his game quite like that.”

I glanced at Oscar, who was watching the exchange with an infuriatingly smug look on his face. Maisie’s comment hung in the air, both a compliment and a lighthearted jab. I couldn’t help but feel like I was once again the butt of some inside joke between the siblings.

“Yeah, well, it’s a special talent of mine,” I said, trying to sound casual but feeling like every word was being scrutinized. “Guess I just have that effect.”

Hattie laughed, the sound bright and unapologetically amused. “Oh, I like you already. But hey, if you’re gonna hang out with us, you better be ready for a little friendly chaos. And maybe a few more unexpected collisions.”

Oscar gave a soft snort of laughter, and I could feel his eyes still on me, assessing, teasing, and—annoyingly—almost impressed. I tried to ignore the butterflies that seemed to be staging a full-on rebellion in my stomach. Clearly, this family thrived on playful torment, and I had somehow found myself right in the middle of it.

“Don’t worry,” I said, straightening up and forcing a confident smile. “I think I can handle whatever you guys throw at me.”

Hattie's eyes sparkled with mischief, and she gave me a mock salute. “That’s the spirit. Welcome to the chaos, mate.”

Oscar chuckled again, giving me that damn wink before pushing off from the counter. “Oh, she’s ready for it. Trust me, she’s already made quite the impression.”

The other two girls strolled in, each with their own distinct energy that filled the room. One had a fierce, confident look, dark hair tied up in a messy bun, and a leather jacket that screamed ‘cooler-than-you’ vibes. The youngest, a curly-haired, bright-eyed whirlwind, practically bounced into the kitchen, her infectious smile lighting up the space.

“So,” I said, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sudden influx of new faces. “I’ve met Oscar, obviously, and… Hattie, right?” I glanced at the girl who had first greeted me, who nodded with a playful smile. “But I’m afraid I haven’t gotten your names yet,” I continued, pointing between the other two sisters.

The girl with the leather jacket gave me a wry grin, leaning casually against the counter. “I’m Edie,” she said, her voice dripping with casual confidence. “The cooler, smarter middle child.”

Mae, the youngest, immediately chimed in, rolling her eyes at her sister. “And I’m Mae, the fun one,” she said with a giggle, her curls bouncing as she hopped up onto a stool. “Edie’s just mad she wasn’t born with my charm.”

Edie snorted, pretending to be offended. “Please, you’re like a tiny tornado of chaos. But yeah, I guess she’s not wrong,” she added, shooting me a smirk. “Mae’s got a way of making everything a little… livelier.”

I couldn’t help but smile at their playful back-and-forth. “Nice to officially meet you all. And thanks for the heads-up on your brother’s antics,” I said, glancing at Oscar, who was watching the exchange with an amused glint in his eye.

“Oh, trust me,” Hattie added, her grin widening as she nudged Oscar with her elbow. “We’ve got years of experience keeping this one in line. You’re welcome to join the effort.”

Oscar threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Wow, ganging up on me already? This is why I never bring girls home,” he joked, though there was a hint of genuine warmth in his voice, like he was more than used to—and secretly enjoyed—their teasing.

Mae leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just wait till we start telling you all the embarrassing stories. Oscar’s got quite a few, and we’ve got no problem spilling the tea.”

Oscar smirked, shifting his weight just enough to close the distance between us, his presence suddenly feeling a lot closer, a lot warmer. He leaned in with a casual ease, his movements smooth and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to make me squirm. His voice dropped into a playful, low tone, rich and velvety, each word dripping with deliberate charm. “Oh, don’t worry about them,” he murmured, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. “I’d much rather hear your stories. You’re far more interesting than anything they could say about me.”

The way he looked at me was like I was the only person in the room, his eyes lingering on mine with a bold, flirtatious glint that sent a shiver down my spine. His grin was maddeningly confident, a little crooked, and devastatingly irresistible—the kind of smile that made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing. It was teasing, suggestive, and far too charming for its own good, like he was daring me to blush, daring me to react.

I felt the heat creeping up my neck, a slow burn that spread across my cheeks, making my skin prickle with the sudden awareness of how close he was. My mind scrambled for something clever to say, but his flirtatious tone, the way his eyes roved over my face as if he was reading every reaction, left me tongue-tied. It was like he was peeling back layers with just a look, searching for the part of me that he could fluster with a few well-placed words and that infuriating smile.

I tried to steady my breath, but his proximity was overwhelming. I could catch the faint scent of his cologne—fresh, with a hint of something spicy—and the subtle shift of his body as he leaned closer sent my senses into overdrive. Every nerve seemed to hum in response to his nearness, and I could feel my face burning hotter, betraying me with every second that I failed to look away.

Edie made a gagging noise, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Ew, Oscar, seriously? Can you not flirt for like five seconds? It’s embarrassing.”

Mae giggled, giving Oscar a playful shove. “Yeah, gross. No one wants to see that. Save it for when we’re not around, Romeo.”

Hattie snorted, shaking her head as she watched Oscar with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “He’s always like this. Thinks he’s Mr. Smooth. Don’t let him get to you.”

But Oscar only chuckled, clearly unfazed by his sisters’ teasing. He turned back to me, his grin widening as he caught sight of my flushed cheeks. “Aww, look at that,” he said, his voice soft and teasing. “Did I make you blush? How cute.”

I quickly tried to hide my face, mortification bubbling up as I realized there was no escaping the heat radiating from my cheeks. “N-No, you didn’t,” I stammered, though the pink tint on my face said otherwise.

Oscar’s smirk deepened, and he leaned in just a little closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not very good at hiding it, you know. It’s kind of endearing.”

I could practically feel my cheeks getting even more red, if that was even possible. His sisters snickered behind us, enjoying the show as much as they enjoyed tormenting him.

Mae nudged Hattie, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear, “He’s really laying it on thick, huh? Someone needs to put a leash on this one.”

Hattie snickered and turned to me, giving me an exaggeratedly sympathetic look. “Don’t worry, he does this to everyone. It’s part of his ‘charm offensive.’ Just don’t let him get away with it too easily.”

“Yeah, make him work for it,” Edie added with a laugh. “And don’t let that blush fool you. He’s got enough of an ego without you feeding it.”

Oscar just shrugged, clearly unbothered by his sisters’ ribbing. He kept his eyes on me, his smile softening just slightly. “They’re just jealous because they know I’m right. You really are something else.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to fight the smile that was creeping onto my face despite my best efforts. “You’re impossible,” I muttered, crossing my arms in an attempt to compose myself.

Oscar leaned back, finally giving me a bit of space but not without one last wink. “Impossible’s my specialty,” he said, the playful challenge hanging in the air.

Hattie clapped her hands together, breaking the charged silence that had wrapped around us. “Alright, lovebirds, let’s change the scene before this kitchen gets any steamier,” she said with a sly grin, glancing between Oscar and me. “What do you say we all head out to the pool? It’s hot as hell today, and I could use a swim.”

Mae’s eyes lit up at the suggestion, and she bounced on her toes with excitement. “Yes, please! I’ve been dying to jump in all morning. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Edie shrugged, pushing off the counter. “Sounds like a plan. Beats sitting around here watching Oscar make a fool of himself,” she said, shooting her brother a pointed look that he brushed off with a careless smirk.

I hesitated, caught off guard by the sudden change in plans. The thought of the pool—cool water, bright sun, and lounging with these new, vibrant personalities—was tempting, but my mind immediately jumped to what that would mean: changing into a bikini, being under the sun's scrutiny, and, worse, the idea of Oscar’s eyes on me again, but this time with even less to hide behind.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” I said, trying to sound casual, though my heart was starting to race for an entirely different reason now. “Just give me a minute to get changed.”

As I slipped back into my room, I rummaged through my suitcase, finding the bright bikini I had packed on a whim but hadn’t quite planned on wearing in front of a whole audience of strangers. It was a pretty number—a little more revealing than I was used to—but suddenly, the idea of wearing it around Oscar felt daunting. My insecurities bubbled up: the nagging thoughts of whether my stomach was flat enough, if my thighs looked alright, or if the faint stretch marks I tried so hard to ignore would be too noticeable under the bright afternoon sun.

I took a deep breath, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I tugged at the fabric, trying to adjust it in a way that made me feel more comfortable, but the nerves wouldn’t settle. I could already imagine Oscar’s eyes lingering on me, his playful smirk turning into something more appraising, and the thought sent a rush of heat to my cheeks. God, why was I letting this get to me? It was just a pool. Just a bikini. Just Oscar. But the more I tried to rationalize, the more those little fears crept in, whispering doubts that made my stomach churn.

I was so lost in my own thoughts, adjusting and readjusting the strings and trying to silence the negative self-talk, that I nearly jumped out of my skin when a sudden knock rattled my door. My heart leaped into my throat, and I spun around, my breath catching as I called out, “W-Who is it?”

“It’s me,” came Oscar’s familiar voice, muffled but still clear enough to send a jolt of nerves through me. “Just checking to see if you’re alright in there. You’ve been quiet, and, well, didn’t want you chickening out on us.”

His tone was light, but there was something softer in it, something that caught me off guard. It wasn’t the usual teasing or the cocky one-liners I’d grown accustomed to in the short time I’d known him. This felt… genuine. A flicker of concern threaded through his words, almost like he actually cared if I was okay. My cheeks flushed anew, this time from the unexpected warmth of his attention rather than embarrassment.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my cover-up as I tried to piece together my swirling thoughts. Was this the same Oscar who had been smirking at me in the kitchen, flirting shamelessly in front of his sisters? The same Oscar who seemed to relish every moment he made me blush or stumble over my words? It was strange, almost disarming, to hear him like this—concerned, attentive, with none of his usual bravado.

My heart fluttered at the thought. What if there was more to him than just the cheeky guy who lived for teasing? I couldn’t help but feel a small, unexpected tug in my chest, an urge to believe that this side of him was real and not just some act. But then, just as quickly, my rational side kicked in, reminding me that I’d known Oscar for all of three hours, most of which had been spent flustered and caught up in his whirlwind of charm.

Was I reading too much into this? Was I letting my own insecurities and wishful thinking color my perception of him? It was hard not to, especially when he swung so easily between flirty and sincere, keeping me constantly off-balance. I barely knew this guy, yet here I was, letting my mind wander into dangerous territory, imagining depth and sincerity that might not even be there.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady my thoughts. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions—didn’t want to let a few kind words make me think I’d seen some hidden side of him. But it was hard not to feel flustered when his voice had softened like that, when he’d taken the time to check on me instead of just joking about how long I was taking.

The knock on my door, the concern in his tone—it all felt so different from the playful Oscar who’d swaggered into my life just a few hours ago. Maybe it was nothing, just a moment of decency, a brief glimpse of something real behind the jokes and teasing. Or maybe I was just overthinking, desperate to see something more in him because he’d managed to get under my skin in a way I wasn’t quite prepared for.

I sighed, feeling my cheeks heat up once more as the realization hit me—I was blushing again, and not just from embarrassment this time. There was something about Oscar, something that made me want to believe he was more than the carefree charmer he projected. But whether that was true or just wishful thinking, I couldn’t be sure. Not yet.

“I-I’m fine!” I called back, trying to steady my voice, but it came out shaky, betraying the mix of anxiety and embarrassment that had settled in my chest. “Just… getting ready.”

There was a pause on the other side of the door, long enough that I thought he might have walked away. But then, Oscar’s voice cut through again, softer this time, and with a teasing edge. “You sure? I promise no one’s gonna judge you out there. Least of all me.”

The reassurance felt sincere, but I couldn’t help the way my mind raced with all the what-ifs. What if he did look? What if I didn’t look good enough? What if this stupid bikini made me feel more exposed than I could handle? I glanced at myself one last time in the mirror, trying to summon the confidence that I usually wore so easily, but right now felt like it was hiding somewhere I couldn’t reach.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I finally managed, forcing a smile I hoped he couldn’t hear through the door. “Just... give me a sec. I’ll be right out.”

“Take your time,” Oscar said, his voice fading as he finally moved away from the door. “But don’t take too long. You don’t wanna miss the fun.”

As his footsteps retreated, I let out a shaky breath, trying to collect myself. I ran a hand through my hair, giving myself one last pep talk before heading out. It was just a pool day, I reminded myself. Just a stupid pool day with some new people and a guy who was way too good at making me blush. And maybe, just maybe, it would be fun—if I could get out of my own head long enough to let it be.

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taglist! @mingyusbigrighttoe @theblueblub @demandealalune @linnygirl09

[stringsbasement]

i have more to say, mainly about peri and his parents' initial separation, as well as the parallels that can be found with this version of peri and hazel, but i feel it would be best to end it here :)

I would love more to hear about this.

cosmo and wanda's form of affection comes in constant and excess validation for every little thing peri does. they're clingy and suffocating with their love, and as much as peri grew to dislike it, he can't help but become dependent on this validation; it makes peri absolutely terrified of doing anything wrong which might disappoint them, and everyone else who perceives him

timmy might be the only one that would treat him normally. timmy's rough around the edges, but i can also see him being a jerk in the typical big brother style. being purposely annoying and rude, but loving and genuine enough to be real with peri when he needs it

they compliment each other— the worst godchild to ever exist, and the ultimate golden child

timmy doesn't expect anything of peri. he thinks he's special because he's family, not because he's a fairy baby, or because of some vendetta against his parents. and peri doesn't think timmy's a horrible person who ruins everything he touches. they see each other's flaws, and loves each other because of them

in "timmy's secret wish," peri is the first and last to successfully defend timmy's court case. (which, i mind you, he did by going poof poof poof in the speeches he made after timmy's other defenses utterly failed. he was able to just... do that. the judges didn't need to hear a single thing more because they all automatically trust him) (even if they did send him to the hocus poconos right after lmao) he's literally the only reason timmy's free at all. i have no doubt there's plenty of other, off-screen occasions where he uses his "status" to protect timmy

on the other hand, timmy enables peri into his antics, allowing him to just… goof off. have fun; cause chaos to his heart's content. he does things that he wouldn't otherwise, and it'll always be timmy who takes accountability so he wouldn't feel bad for it

so when timmy leaves, it undoubtedly affects him. it affect his freedom. it wouldn't matter how old he was— they were together for the first 8 (technically 50+) years of his life. that stuff sticks, subconsciously or not

so it comes time cosmo and wanda has to do something about it. what to do when a child's missing their brother?

hazel's case was straightforward. she needed companionship, assurance to ward off her fears, and a healthy dose of fun to loosen her up and take her mind off things

but what can you give a child who already has everything he could want? you give him as much love as you can, but wait, he pushes you away for it. shoot. so now you give him space, but he grows ever more distant, and when you realize you might've given him too much space, he's already off on his own, out of your reach

so you decide to go as well. you retire and take a long vacation with your partner, and you have faith that your child is doing something he loves and that he'll come back to you in his own time

and when that child is finally, utterly alone... there's nothing he can do but regret

peri wouldn't have much, if any, close friends he can truly confide with. not if he pushed them all away too

(with the way that fairies, pixies, and their respective antis are the dominant species, i'm guessing that the main reason is because other species don't live nearly as long. so usually, fairies rely on each other as forever companions. except no one but irep is even within peri's age group, (irep, who is antagonistic towards him on a good day,) which we know is an issue because of "poof's playdate," where they felt the need to turn other fairies into babies to get peri some socialization)

for hazel, she was able to acquire close friends over time through her own efforts. it's apparent in the finale just how much hazel has grown over the course of the show. at the start, she had difficulties overcoming her dependence towards her brother and coping with the changes in her life, but she adapted and turned that into her strength. she put herself out there and formed new bonds that, in the end, was the reason they were able to save fairy world

right off the bat, hazel and anthony parallels peri and timmy

anthony moved onward with life, while timmy wanted to stay a kid forever. the difference between them is that anthony knew he had a home to come back to, a family that will always be there to support him when he returns. timmy felt that once his memories are gone, he'll have nothing, because his fairies didn't just help him cope with his life, they replaced it entirely, to the point that timmy has no legs to stand on if they were to disappear

timmy loved too much, and cosmo and wanda had too much love to give. it ended up hurting them instead

cosmo and wanda learned that lesson, but peri didn't.

(i already have more ideas for him and dev and oh do they wound me...)

peri becomes a way hazel gets to see what it would be like if she never let go of anthony, and peri would see a glimpse of his younger self in hazel, who is happy and content with the life she was given despite the way things had to be

(peri and hazel understand each other the most, which is exactly why they wouldn't get along. i can imagine an interaction between them with hazel calling peri out, and him ignoring her)

when the cosma-fairywinkles reunite, cosmo and wanda's overbearingness after their reunion takes on a different light. it would be two parents trying to connect with the only child they have left when all he wants is for them to go away

(if cosmo and wanda tried to address timmy's bad influence in the past, it would be like pouring salt over a still-open wound. in peri's perspective, it's like they're trying to ruin timmy's image now that he's gone to so peri can get over him. it's kid logic. peri is too caught up in himself to remember that cosmo and wanda was with timmy first. they all love him. they all miss him)

peri had reinvented himself and has become someone else. someone cosmo and wanda might not like. he has run through every single reaction and still wasn't ready for immediate and unconditional acceptance. "i go by peri now!" and they don't even think to question it, they just love him like they always have. like they always will

and maybe it's in that moment that peri begins to think that his fears might have been for nothing

[genneii]

stressed workaholic „ ᴍɪɢᴜᴇʟ ᴏ'ʜᴀʀᴀ

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

(NSFW, READ AT YOUR OWN CAUTION!!)

summary: miguel is stressed about the many missions he has to oversee

content: miguel o'hara x f!reader, oral (f->m) fingering, overstimulation, creampie, penetration, unprotected sex, squirting, slut-shaming, pet names (baby + sweetheart)

author's note: if i missed anything in the warnings, please do let me know! enjoy <3

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

miguel stared at his screen, furrowing his eyebrows as he watched intently. sighing loudly, he ran his fingers through his hair and stared at the papers on his desk. but before he could even get back to work, he noticed your stupid strut through the corner of his eyes. as he rolled his eyes, he grumbled out, "what do you need this time internee?"

watching as you trotted over to him and flashing him a sweet smile made him irritated for absolutely no reason. his workload was already more than enough for him, he didn't need you bothering him anymore. but when you slid into his lap, he narrowed his eyes. you parted your lips to speak, causing his eyebrows to knit in curiosity of what you would say. „awe, why're you being so cold towards me?„

miguel scoffed and rolled his eyes in response. he was clearly pissed and didn't want to talk at all. seems as if all the stress had gotten to his brain. "i'm not being cold. i'm just tired and stressed from keeping this.. spidey show on the road."

miguel grumbled, turning back to his holographic maps and schematics. his eyes narrowed once more after you decided to rub his back gently, and wondered about what the hell you were plotting. „why don't you let me help you with your stress?„

miguel just rolled his eyes after you spoke and focused on the hologram, which showed a complex system failure rather than the distraction you presented to him. after a minute or so, miguel grumbled out once more, "you being here is just adding onto my stress. this isn't about solving my stress but about managing an entire universe of chaos, Miss Internee."

miguel rolled his eyes, (sassy man apocalypse) and stared at you. he decided to ignore the system's alarm blaring in his ear, since you were being a little too distracting for his own good. after noticing how tight the black skims dress was on you, he opened his mouth to lecture you but you spoke up before he could even say anything. „but sometimes people gotta unravel and let loose for a bit, it'll help you feel better. „

miguel was too busy staring at your plushy lips to even comprehend what you said but once you did, miguel snapped at you. "i do not let 'loose', that's not me. and i certainly don't need some kind of pet project distracting me from doing my job."

miguel snarled and tried to focus on the schematics again. but with your pretty lips pouting, he couldn't even pay attention and figure out what was wrong with the system. and when you tilted your head in a curious manner, miguel couldn't help but glance back at you.

"You know I can't... this isn't right,"

„It isn't a bad thing if nobody finds out, hm?„

"This is wrong on so many levels,"

miguel growled, trying to maintain his professionalism despite the way you was pressing against him. "we can't risk anyone finding out about this."

you just smiled slyly and shifted herself on his lap. miguel admired how the curve of your ass pressed perfectly against his crotch and watch as you began to slowly grind against him. he groaned softly as you grind against him, his cock already hardening in his pants."You're making this very difficult, I'm gonna give you a warning to get off my lap."

he managed to say through clenched teeth. you on the other hand, decided to get smart with him and tease him further. „and what'll you do if I don't?„ you softly murmured, continuing your actions on his lap. miguel grunted and gripped your waist, lifting you off of him and placing her on the desk. your legs were spread and slightly pushed your panties to the side. "You don't understand," he snarled, his face contorted with frustration.

"I can't afford to get tangled up in any kind of scandal like this." You, just let him push her panties to the side, the pretty flesh of yours glistened with arousal. „Nobody will know.„ "I'm not talking about them knowing.." he bit out, his eyes locked on her exposed folds. "I mean... I can't risk it affecting my work or relationships." His voice was thick with desire as he leaned closer, his fingers itching to touch her. „Then I don't mind doing this with you every other day.„

his heart raced as he stared at your glistening folds. he knew he should resist, but the temptation was too great. with a low groan, he leaned down and slowly licked your tight little opening. your fingers immediately latched onto his hair, gripping it as you let out a soft moan. Miguel moaned around her, his tongue circling her entrance slowly, tasting her sweet nectar. He pulled back slightly, his gaze locked on hers as he asked, "Are you sure this is what you want?"

you nodded your head, his hands on her inner thighs to keep it open. you gasped as he used two fingers to spread your folds apart. miguel's eyes darkened with lust as he watched youe reaction. a deep breath escaped his lips and he replaced his fingers with his tongue, pushing deeper into your wet heat. he started to lap at you gently, groaning against your sensitive flesh. "fuck, y/n.."

you shuddered, immediately cumming on his tongue. feeling youe climax, he continued his assault on your sensitive folds, his tongue licking up and out as he milked your orgasm. as you came down from the intense wave, he pulled back, both of your breaths heavy and eyes locked. "i don't think i can stop now,"

„then don't.„ you whispered out. the sexual tension in the room was high as you continued to look into his eyes. you threw your head back as he pushed two fingers into you, your thighs twitching and trembling.

miguel groaned, feeling your body clench around his fingers. he began to thrust them in and out of your tightness, matching the rhythm with his tongue flicking against your swollen folds. "tell me how much you want it,"

„i wan' it so bad!!„ you cried out and arched your back as he continued to abuse your g-spot with each curl and thrust of his fingers. miguel groaned, feeling your tightness squeeze his fingers. he picked up the pace, thrusting deeper into you with each stroke as he sucked harder on your sensitive nub. your hips slightly bucked against his fingers, cumming on his fingers. a primal groan flew past his lips and miguel pushed your legs further apart and plowed his tongue deeper into you, tasting your sweet nectar. his fingers continued to thrust, reaching for your g-spot as he worked you into a frenzy. "i'm going to make you mine,"

your mind slowly grew blank, crying and chanting his name as you mewled loudly. feeling your body on the brink of another orgasm, miguel gave one final thrust with his fingers and then pulled them out of you, leaving you empty and wanting more. he lifted your legs over his shoulders, positioning himself at your entrance. "say it." he spoke as his thumb rubbed your puffy clit, rubbing the swollen head of his cock against your entrance and smearing his pre-cum all over it.

„aaah.. -! i wan' you to fuck me„ you mumbled and slurred your words a little. your back arched even more as he slapped the tip against your fat pussy. with a grunt of pleasure, miguel pushed forward, sliding his thick cock deep into you. he felt your tightness engulf him as he bottomed out, filling you completely. he began to thrust, his hips slapping against your ass cheeks and creating loud as well as heavy sounds that filled the room.

you cried out with each thrust, his tip kissing your cervix. "You like that, don't you? My big cock stretching you out, filling you up. You're so fucking tight, y/n." his voice was rough with desire as he continued to pound into you, pushing you further and further over the edge. you were fucked out, cumming several times on his cock. you moaned mindlessly, gasping and arched your back all the way.

miguel grunted, his movements becoming rougher and faster as he felt you cumming around him. his eyes were locked on yours, his lust for you growing with each passing moment. he pounded into you, filling you up completely with his sticky and fulfilling cum. you on the other hand, squirted right when he came in you and filled you up, your eyes rolling back into your head. "Fuck," miguel growled, feeling his climax wash over him as he emptied himself inside you. his hips bucked violently against your own, pushing as deep as possible with each thrust. as both of your shared orgasm finally subsided, miguel pulled out of you, his cock still hard and glistening with both of your combined fluids. he leaned down, kissing you deeply, making you taste yourself on your lips. "that," he panted, "was fucking incredible."

even while your mind was still recovering from that mind-blowing orgasm, you managed to mumble out, „ you're still hard..!„

"you're damn right I am," he chuckled, his cock twitching slightly at your mention. "i'm not done with you yet, y/n." with that, he positioned himself at your entrance once more, his hard length pushing against your slick folds. you moaned softly as he rubbed his cock in between your folds. "tell me, sweetheart," he groaned, his eyes burning into yours. "do you want more?" he pushed forward slightly, prodding into your entrance again. "Beg for it."

you whined softly as he only pushed in the tip. "that's it," miguel purred, his hips grinding against her softly. "ask for it." he pushed deeper this time, filling you up slightly more than before pulling back again. "you're so tight," he murmured, mesmerized with how tight one could be. "i could spend hours inside you."

„m-.. miguel please..!„ you softly begged and tried to buck your hips against his cock. miguel's hands gripped your hips, holding you in place. "please what?" miguel's eyes narrowed, wanting you to say what you wanted. but when you refused to say what you wanted, he decided to speak up. "are you fucking with me? don't piss me off Y/N." you just pouted your lips but let out gasped after he flipped you onto her stomach, your ass in the air and your face pressed against the table. miguel clicked his tongue, slapping his cock against your ass. "hurry. up."

miguel let out a relieved sigh as you whined and begged for him to fuck you again. he grinned, gently slapping your ass. "god, you're so fucking sexy from behind," he groaned. "i can't wait to take you like this later. get on your knees," he commanded, his voice taking on a commanding tone. "i want to see that pretty little mouth of yours." miguel grinned as you listened to him and obediently got on your knees. he positioned his hard cock at the entrance of your waiting mouth. "suck," he ordered softly, giving her lips a gentle nudge using his cockhead.

he groaned loudly as your plump and plushy lips wrapped around his tip, sucking on it gently. his hands gripped your hair lightly and he began to thrust slowly into your mouth, feeling the warmth and wetness envelop him. "c'mon baby, I know you can take me in deeper," tears welled up in your eyes as you drooled all over his cock. "shhh," he whispered, his voice soothing despite the rough edge. "it's okay, sweetheart. just take it slow." He withdrew slightly, watching as your lips wrapped around the head of his cock perfectly. "there's my pretty little slut,"

you looked up at him with a teary expression, your lips parted slightly. miguel pulled out and pressed a soft kiss to your swollen lips. "you are so fucking beautiful..," he murmured. with that, he began to thrusting back into her mouth, feeling the tight warmth envelop him once again. as you continued to suck him off to the best if your abilities, he couldn't help but moan softly. "that's it, baby," he encouraged you, his hands now gripping your shoulders firmly. "You're doing great."

you slowly bobbed your head, sucking him in deeper. "Ahhh, fuck..." he groaned, his hips moving in a steady rhythm as he fucked your mouth. he couldn't believe how good you felt, your warmth enveloping him as you took him deeper and deeper. you continuously bobbed your head, slurping his cock up. "that's it, baby," he whispered, pulling out of your mouth slightly. "feel how hard you make me?" with that, he pushed back into your mouth, reaching down to massage your clit gently as you slurped his cock.

you just let him facefuck your mouth, drooling on his cock. your teeth gently scraped against the veins on his cock, making him gasp in delight. "oh god yes," he moaned, his cock throbbing in her mouth. "that feels so fucking good." with each thrust, he felt your tongue swirling around him, sending shivers down his spine. "you're such a dirty little slut, sucking me off like this, but I love every filthy second of it.." you looked up at his face as you hallowed your cheeks to take more of his cock in. his eyes locked onto yours and his fingers dug deeper into your hair, holding you tightly as he continued to pound into her eager mouth. "C'mon baby, I know you can take more without gagging on me."

you reached down, yours fingers slipping into your entrance as you sucked on his cock. miguel's eyes widened as you fingered yourself, the sight sending his arousal into overdrive. "Mmm, that feels good, shit I'm about to cum." he groaned, you moaned against his cock, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through his body. his fingers still tight in your hair. miguel's thrusts into your mouth began to grow erratic as well and his breath hitched as he spilled his release into your mouth, filling that pretty little mouth up with his cum. "Swallow for me baby." miguel's voice was hoarse and raspy as he tilted your head up so he could see you swallow his release. Once you did, miguel leaned down and gave you a soft kiss on the lips. "There we go baby, 're you satisfied now? Cause I know damn well that I'm not."

once miguel saw the pout on your pretty little lips and the needy look in your eyes again, the corner of miguel's lips curled into a slight smirk.

"Round 2?"

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

[wisteriagoesvroom]

schools of thought: part 2 🦊

A landoscar college AU, told through social media

to catch up, check out part 1 here

author's notes

thank you for your patience and the kudos on part 1 🤧 irl stuff happened and i worked on a different story for a while before getting back to this one

ignore timestamps, they don't really matter

if you enjoy it, please consider liking / reblogging / commenting! 💙

—————we pick up at the federation U library———————

lando's studying late. it's a tuesday, and there aren't too many people there - just him, linda the librarian who isn't particularly impressed at anything or anyone, and a couple of other students on other islands of desks, stuck in their own world.

lando doesn't find academic work impossible per se, it's more the sustained attention that gets challenging. and contrary to how he seems, he does actually work hard at his core modules. even if he isn't sure exactly to what end, yet.

the screen's blazing bright and lagrange's theorem is starting to make his brain statick-y, so lando rubs his eyes. one of those advice pages on tiktok said changing tasks could help sometimes to refocus on his studying. something about crop rotation or switching channels of the brain or something. if it's on social media, it must be true.

so he opens his design software instead and makes a party invite.

he sends a prayer to the holy trinity of tiesto, guetta and darude for his very basic photoshop abilities. and an extra hail-van-helden for the free software that he pirated off charles.

the party playlist is already whirring in his head. definitely some garage smashed with some old school hip hop, and he's sure there's a way to get some hans zimmer piano in there. whatever, it'll work.

satisfied with his efforts, lando sips from his hydroflask. (the drink is one part instant coffee, one part spicy honey, and a lot of hot water. carlos gives him shit about it all the time, but carlos is spanish and generally prone to dramatics when it comes to coffee and just about everything else.)

still focused on his important task of Procrastinating His Stabilizer Equations, lando texts max.

linda, to her credit, only glared at him once when he started humming kid cudi under his breath.

and judging from experience, max and charles are going to be a while, so there's nothing for lando to do but stare at the wall and keep working on his playlists. oh, and his math assignments.

meanwhile, oscar gets a ping from logan.

what is there to say about the meeting really, oscar thinks. uneventful. ———————earlier——————————

the first project catch-up with lando, they'd met under the campus bee statue. a sunny afternoon, but the campus was quiet, half of them having decamped to the nearby hills or beach for a change of scenery. it was just the pleasant and tolerable buzz of other students enjoying the warmth and doing university student things. he'd spotted a couple of people with picnic blankets out. he hadn't brought a picnic blanket, thinking this would be a quick meeting.

lando had appeared in a blur of white and orange, like a y2k elf. ear piercing, music festival rubber bracelets and all. in a t-shirt that said i'm acute angle.

"'sup osc!" lando said.

"that t-shirt's gramatically incorrect. technically." oscar had replied.

"whaa-aat. but more to the point, it's funny."

"i guess. did you do the reading yet? thought it'd be good to talk roles and responsibilities and maybe a project timeline."

"timeline?" lando said, as he tossed his backpack down and flopped on the lawn. lando extracted two heinekens from a side pocket and went through a complicated manouvre of opening them with his room keys. "thought we'd maybe crack open a beer and just chat, matey."

i'm not your matey, oscar thought. i'm a passenger to whatever train of chaos it is that you're driving and i'd like to get off.

oscar's skin prickled as he realised the double meaning of get off. he also tried to not think too hard about how overfamiliar lando was acting towards him. the worse thing was: there was a bigger part of him that was probably willing to let lando get away with it.

lando seemed to be ignoring whatever existential crisis oscar was going through. instead, lando was going on and on about philosophical youtubers and sparknotes. lando was so animated when he spoke, too: hands always in gestures, as if excitement buzzed directly out of his fingertips and onto oscar. there was a sparkle in his eyes, blue sliding into grey, that made oscar want to sit on his hands. because they were the kind of eyes they wrote about in regency novels, the windows to the soul kind of melodramatic nonsense. that would make him want to do stupid shit. like, get-in-the-way-of-the-project-grade kind of stupid shit.

so it took oscar a lot of energy to focus in that first meeting. he thought he did a pretty decent job picking up the thread of conversation, around the part where lando had called foucault's theory "the indiana jones thought thingy."

"i think you mean archaeology of knowledge."

"right! right." lando said, as he beamed up at him.

oscar had suddenly felt overly warm, then. probably just the sun on the quad, he thought to himself. he was from australia, so technically he should've known better, and worn adequate SPF. he'd have to set a phone reminder for that at a later point. he refused to be fooled again by the european summer and its apparently hypnotic effects. even if those hypnotic effects were probably mostly caused by a menacing parallel phenomenon that oscar would call solarus landonitus.

—————————————————

later, oscar's cooks dinner, and tries to decipher the instructions on the back of a frozen bag of beef mince. pato and logan are away at a football game across the border in italy, an overnighter thing.

his phone vibrates. it's lando.

oscar's hands hover over the letter keys. a party? he couldn't think of anything worse. but lando said a couple of friends, and it's true oscar hasn't really partied, and he thinks hanging out with his D&D friends doesn't really count. there had been that one instance in first year when oscar had gone to try and meet logan and pato at the ministry of sound, and he'd accidentally ended up at the ministry of state government building. after that, he'd figured parties weren't really fated for him.

but. lando, social butterfly lando, campus personality lando is the one asking. and logan's right, oscar probably does take himself too seriously.

osc types and deletes at least four different responses before be replies. he is an eng lit major, he tells himself. surely he should be better at crafting his words than this. but sometimes it is what it is.

so it isn't a commitment, and it isn't a hard no, either.

oscar stares at his phone. it's gone quiet. lando's moved on – probably uploading an instagram story. or smashing his too keyboard loudly in a public space as he solves a polynomial. or making a new and unlikely EDM song out of radiator noises, or whatever it is that lando "i'm so cool" norris decides to do with his free time.

oscar is studying the dorm kitchen tiles, thinking about not thinking about lando, when his pasta water boils over. it hits the induction stove with a loud hiss.

"shit!" osc yelps. he grabs a nearby dish towel to wipe it up.

the pasta ends up both soggy and under salted, but he eats it anyway. mind turning all the while.

——————stay tuned part 3 (hint: party party)————————

p.s. if you want to be tagged/notified on the next part/updates just lmk in comments or DM and i'd be happy to!!

[blossom-works]

His Sunshine

Agent Leon S. Kennedy has been through hell after hell. Never having a break from the chaos. His heart has hardened over the years since Raccoon, leading him to turn to alcohol for temporary release. Who would have thought that fighting bioterrorism was the reason that Agent Leon S. Kennedy found his peace and comfort?

Warnings: Mentions of child/human trafficking, death of children, alcoholism

*OC is Asian cause let's face it, Leon has a thing for Asians (Ada and Shen Mei)

When He First Met the Sun

"Hunnigan, what the hell are you trying to say?"

Through the heavy-duty phone screen, a woman with brunette hair has to inform her long-time friend and co-worker of the horrors of his upcoming assignment.

"We have intel that whoever is in charge of creating this strain of the virus is using children to spread the disease. Trafficked children..."

"Jesus fucking Christ." Instead of taking another shot of pure liquor, Leon opts to drink straight from the bottle. The burning liquid glides down his throat, numbing the man even more.

"The president has created a specific team for this assignment. He wants you and the BSAA to partner up with an agent from the FBI. She was specifically asked for by Chris Redfield."

"Chris is on this mission too?"

"The president wanted his expertise in this. It'll be a four-man team. You, Chris Redfield, Jill Valintine, and the FBI agent. Chris said that he'll be picking you up at your current location. You are to meet the FBI agent at 1500." Hunnigan hangs up the call, leaving the drunken man to his own endeavors.

Just when the hell is this hell going to end? Since '98, things have only gone downhill. It seems that all Leon ever does is fight these bio-engineered monsters while losing people by the hundreds. This is hell. Leon is living in hell. A never-ending cycle of death and carnage.

By the time Chris gets to the bar, Leon has already finished one entire bottle of tequila. Lord knows how Leon's liver is doing. Stumbling, Leon leaves the bar to stumble in Chris' car. On his way out he forgot to pay his tab, which Chris had to pay for (but not forgetting to make a mental note that Leon owes him).

"You reek of alcohol." Chris grimaces as he rolls down the back windows.

"Yeah, so? You smoke."

"Not as much as your drink."

Chris opens the glove compartment to pull out a file. "Here, you can go over the mission on our way to the FBI headquarters. That is if you're sober enough to even read."

Leon snatches the file from Chris, mumbling how he can read "Thank you very much". He has to shake his head to get his eyesight to work. The contents of the folder are gruesome. Pictures and names of children that have gone missing fill the thick folder. Some of the last few papers are of what is suspected to be people in charge.

"Hunnigan told me that you recommended an FBI agent to the president."

"Yeah, she's the youngest sister of one of my buddies back in the day. She works in the department of human trafficking and child exploitation. She's only worked there for about two years, but she's one of the best in the field."

"Hold on, you said she's only been employed for a little less than a year? She's a rookie!"

Chris scoffs. "And? As I said, she's currently one of the best agents that specialize in this field. If we're going to accomplish this mission, we're going to need her expertise."

"And how old is this chick?"

Doing some quick math in his head, Chris answers "23".

"She's a kid."

"And she's one of the best the FBI has to offer. That says a lot, Leon." Chris further defends. He must really believe in this chick's skills to defend her like this, Leon concludes. Shutting up, the two men travel to the agency in silence.

FBI Headquarters:

In a small room sits three people. DSO agent Leon S. Kennedy. BSAA operator Chris Redfield. BSAA agent Jill Valentine. Each of them has folders and folders of information that was apparently collected by the FBI agent they will be working with. Impressive for a woman who only has less than a year's worth of experience.

The door clicks open and reveals a woman of Asian descent with a short stature wearing a basic black and white suit, with three-inch stilettos. Her black hair is tied into a high ponytail that stops at the nape of her neck. Her features are soft and the color of her skin tells people that she most likely came from a bloodline of Southeast Asians.

"Apologies for the wait. The president sent someone to deliver some useful information."

Jill asks what that information is.

"That we are given almost all clearance to the highest level. With the president's approval, we can obtain Pentagon-sealed information. Not even the CIA can tell us 'no." You sits down at the last empty seat.

"Woah, it seems he really wants us to catch these guys."

Lean speaks up, "Then we should get started."

You go over the contents of the mission. For a woman who has been working as a federal agent for less than a year, your work ethic is top-tier. Even Leon silently admits that you are well-equipped for your job. And you are sort of a cutie. You talk about how the FBI and CIA are certain that BOWs are stemming from trafficked children. Any questions they have, are answered a couple minutes later during your presentation.

At the end of your presentation, you address the elephant in the room. "So now that I've told you everything that I know. It's time you tell me how to deal with BOWs."

Chris is the first to speak up. "Shoot them in the head. It's the only way to kill them." You nod.

"Are you up for it?"

To you, it sounds like Leon is challenging your competency. He wants to know if you will be a hindrance on this mission. Sure, you are a smart cookie but how will you hold up facing a human-turned-monster? Can you hold yourself in battle? Or will you need to be babysat along the way? In truth, Leon wants to prepare himself when he eventually loses another person in this cycle of hell.

"Agent Kennedy, I understand the reasoning behind your question. In truth, I don't know. Unlike the three of you, I have never encountered a BOW." A sufficient and honest answer. You go on further. "This mission is a give and take. I give you my expertise on human trafficking and child exploitation, you give me the galls to kill those things. You teach me how to kill BOWs, I give you the information you need to outsmart these bastards and get these kids out of hell."

Standing up, you tell your team that you will meet up here again tomorrow, at six sharp. Only this time, it will be at the FBI's helipad. The rumored place of operation is near the Mexican border. The four of you will be stationed in a remote area in Southern Texas for the duration of the mission.

Texas:

"Hey, why do you wake up so early in the morning? Are you getting some extra work in?" Jill asks as the four of you are eating some take-out.

On day two, your teammates kept asking you why they were waiting before barging into the supposed hideout. You understood that for them, barging in with the information you have is a norm for them. But they forget that they are not just dealing with BOWs but human trafficking. If any piece of the collected information is wrong, it could jeopardize the entire mission. You told them, "I'd willingly turn into one of those mutants before compromising the children's chance of freedom."

They stopped bugging you after that. The three of them stepped back to let you take the reigns. They really did forget that there is another part to this mission other than to exterminate BOWs.

"Sort of. I wake up early to do my morning workouts."

It is no surprise that you work out. Everyone in this damn house works out, but to do it so early in the morning and not take a nap during the day is crazy.

"Why so early?"

You shrug your shoulders. "I usually wake up early to go running at the park near my place, but since we're not in D.C., I'm extending my workout to make up for it." The conversation is then directed to how you know Chris.

"My brother was his junior in the Air Force. Redfield once came to our home back in Georgia for...was it Christmas or Thanksgiving of '93?"

"It was Thanksgiving. Your mom invited my family to come over."

"Wait a minute...You were born in '87, so that would make you either six or seven at the time." Jill says.

You and Chris hum before Chris starts teasing you. "She was so infatuated with me at the time that she kept calling me her 'boyfriend'."

Groaning, you throw a pen at Chris who ends up catching it. To further your embarrassment, Jill and Lean start laughing. You can feel the tips of your ears getting hot.

"Dammit Redfield, I was six at the time! Stop bringing up old shtick!" You huff.

"What? It was cute how you would want to sit next to me. You even 'fought' your own mom because she sat in 'your' spot." Chris turns his head and whispers to his other colleagues, "She was so cute I still have photos from that day", making them laugh even more. "Side note: Why do you keep calling me by my last name? We've known each other since we started 'dating."

"Because we're on the job. When we aren't working together I'll start calling you Chris again." You say as you roll your eyes. Getting Chris to stop embarrassing you is equivalent to getting a pig to fly. It is never going to happen. "Plus given the age hierarchy, you're the oldest one here, grandpa."

"A grandpa you once called your boyfriend," Chris smirks. To an outsider, it might seem like Chris and you are flirting, but you are not. One, because it would basically be pedophilia considering you two met at the respective ages of six and twenty. And two, because you and Chris see each other as siblings it would also be a case of incest if the two of you were flirting.

Half-joking you say, "I guess I've always been into older men."

To get the attention off of you, you then ask how Jill and Leon know Chris. Like they did, you sat and listened to their (less embarrassing) stories. By the end of the night, you find yourself getting a bit closer to Leon and Jill. Chris excuses himself to take a call and Jill excuses herself to take a shower. Leaving you and Agent Kennedy on the ground floor.

Leon is the one to break the silent barrier, albeit, not in the greatest way.

"So, you're into older men huh?" You can practically hear his smirk from behind the laptop.

You decide to humor the man and play along. "What's it to you?"

Leon shrugs. "I don't know, maybe after we finish this mission we can go grab dinner sometime?"

"Are you asking me on a date Agent Kennedy?"

"Depends on if you say yes."

"What if I say no?"

"Then it could be two friends having dinner together." Leon shrugs again. You chuckle and shake your head in amusement. You close the laptop and place your intertwined hands on top of it.

"I don't do flings, Kennedy." You tell the man honestly, making sure to make direct eye contact to show Leon how serious you are. Leon holds his hands up in surrender.

"Then we can go out as friends." He compromises. "There's nothing wrong with two friends hanging out over a meal, and it wouldn't count as a fling."

You are not opposed to the idea, but you do want to poke fun at the legendary Leon S. Kennedy. "I'm afraid not. I don't consider us friends, Kennedy. We're co-workers."

"What if I believe that we're friends?"

"Then I guess we're at a standoff." You tease.

Leon takes the challenge. "Then I guess I'll have to convince you otherwise."

You stand up and throw away your takeout container. Grabbing the laptop you head upstairs to where the rooms are. "I guess so," you call out from the stairs.

When He First Felt the Sun's Rays

Your apartment is filled with the scent of different herbs and spices. A harmonious smell that you hate the fact that you have to open your balcony door to let some fresh air in. Your hair is held up by a clip and you are in a white shirt, a thin flannel, and a pair of jean shorts. Classic "girl next door" look. You take a piece of laffa and dip it into the hummus. You have music playing in the background as you finish grilling the chicken kabobs.

You get a notification on your phone that there is someone at your front door and not a second later, they are knocking. Wiping your hands on a kitchen towel and turning down the heat, you answer the door.

"Hey, Leon." Your old colleague greets you back with a bouquet of parchment-wrapped flowers. Thanking him, you let him inside of your apartment and find a place to put the flowers. Walking into the open concept room, you yell out to the DSO agent.

"And don't forget to take off your shoes!"

Leon immediately kicks his shoes off and is hit with a waft of comforting spices. "Smells good in here."

"Thanks, I hope you like Middle Eastern food 'cause that's gonna be dinner. If you're a bit hungry I left out some hummus and laffa out on the island counter."

"Laffa?" Leon asks but still takes a piece of the bread and dips it into the bowl of pureed chickpeas.

"It's a flatbread. Think of Indian naan."

"Did you make it yourself?"

"No, I bought the hummus and bread from a local Middle Eastern restaurant nearby. Everything else though is from scratch."

Leon tries to go around the island to offer you his help but his left foot steps on something soft. A loud "arf" scares Leon and forces him to look down. A body of blond hair scurries across the floor towards you, scratching at your legs.

"Oh shit, I didn't mean to step on your dog." Leon apologizes. The medium-sized dog is now in your arms, seeking your comfort.

You wave off Leon's apology. "Don't worry about it. Shiloh always gets so excited to meet new people that she forgets to stay out of the way. It was an honest mistake so no biggie."

Leon manages to walk around without stepping on a dog this time. He reaches his hand out to pet the top of the dog's head as another apology. It accepts his apology and their tail starts wagging again.

"Her name's Shiloh, huh? What breed is she?"

You put Shiloh on the ground so you can put the kabobs on a platter. "An English Cocker Spaniel. I got her while I was still living in Georgia."

Leon is too busy with your dog to listen to you. He is bent down on one knee and Shiloh is climbing onto him. Begging him to keep petting her.

"Leon!"

"Huh? What?"

You roll your eyes and place your hands on your hips. "I asked if you could help me set up the table."

"Oh, yeah, sure." He spits out in embarrassment.

Together, you get the table ready for your fourth date in a row. Since you got back from Texas, Leon has not stopped pestering you to agree to go on a date with him. The first date was the unofficial date and the second was the first date. Making this date at your apartment the third official date with Leon. To your surprise, Leon is a total gentleman. You thought men like him liked to "date" women for a while in the name of fun. So far, Leon has only been able to change half your mind about him.

The unofficial date was a simple walk in the park followed by lunch at a diner. The second (first) date was at the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History where you could geek out. Leon found your dorkiness cute. The third (second) date was a nice dinner at a steakhouse. Leon found out that you gave the waitress your card and told her that you would be paying for yourself. When you parted ways, Leon told you that he would get back at you for your little stunt. And the fourth (third) date is dinner at your apartment.

During your dates, including the unofficial one, the two of you have been getting to know each other a lot better. The two of you talked about your childhoods, hobbies, and stupid shit you did as a kid. Leon is a little confused as to why you failed to mention you have a dog.

Leon hums in delight. "The food is good. Didn't think you would be such a good cook."

"All thanks to my mom who would drag me and my sister to the kitchen whenever she would cook." You shiver at the unpleasant memories. "What about you? Do you cook?"

"Not like you," Leon answers honestly. "Just basic meals."

"Mmm...sounds sad." Leon laughs as he agrees with you.

Dinner went by wonderfully and Leon even helped you clean up. You purposefully put some food in a separate Tupperware for later. After the table is clean and the dishes are done, you propose that the two of you play a couple games of Smash Brothers, igniting the competitive side of Leon. Sitting next to each other, you try to kill off the other's character. After some 1v1 games, you paired up to play against bots in 2v2 games. To further challenge Leon's competitive side, you switched to Mario Cart. You end up getting a text from one of your neighbors to quiet down.

The reason why you two are now cuddled on your couch, watching an old Barbie movie. Why is the famous Agent Leon S. Kennedy watching an early 2000s Barbie movie? Because you wanted to. That is all the reason Leon needs to watch the damn cliche, animated movie about a doll. Shiloh has plopped herself on the other side of Leon. Like you, she has nuzzled herself into his side. When the movie finishes, it is close to ten.

"Think it's time to call it a night?"

Reluctantly, Leon nods. For the duration of the movie, Leon has been petting Shiloh's head, lulling her to sleep. By now, your dog is fast asleep in doggy dreamland. Getting off of your date, you head to the kitchen to grab something. Stretching his legs, Leon gets off the couch and heads to the foyer. When he turns around to say "bye", Leon is surprised to find you standing behind him with a cloth-covered item.

"Here, it's some leftovers from tonight's dinner. Just heat the bread in the oven so it won't get soggy."

For some reason, the gesture warms Leon to his core. Never once has he had a woman pack him leftovers. Not even his own mother. The sweet act touches Leon so much that it sort of scares him. Like scares him, scares him, and scares him because he wants more of you this. Your soft face and sweet eyes. Fidgeting your feet because you are embarrassed. The soft smile on your lips is just screaming at Leon to kiss you.

"Thanks...I'll remember that." Grateful, Leon takes the meal from you and the two of you awkwardly stand in your foyer. "So, uhh...I'll be off now."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll walk you out."

The two of you step out of your apartment and hug each other. Unlike your previous hugs, this one is tighter and longer and more intimate. You have to force yourself to release the hug or else you risk never letting go of the man. You whisper a "good night" to Leon and he returns the favor. Deciding that life is too short, you pull Leon back to you. Cupping his cheeks, you bring his face to yours and you kiss the irritatingly attractive man.

There are a few times Leon has been surprised. Both good and bad surprises and Leon is more than happy to count this feat as a good, no, a wonderful surprise. He purses his lips and uses one hand to hold onto the widest part of your hips, bringing the two of you closer. The new closeness gives you a burst of confidence. In the silence of the hallway, you can hear the faint smacks from your lips on Leon's. Your left thumb rubs over the growing stubble on Leon's cheek.

Leon always thought that your lips looked supple and soft. Finally able to feel them the way he wants to, your lips are supple and soft with a dash of chapped. Who knew kissing you could feel so addicting? To calm the animal inside of him, Leon compels himself to pull away. His mind is going haywire when he feels a string of saliva break.

When you open your eyes, you look too good. More attractive than usual. Too attractive to the point where Leon has to chant "Not now. Not now. Not now." in his head. What puts a crack into Leon's self-control ability is when you peck his lips a few more times.

"Goodnight Leon."

Out of it, the only thing Leon can do is nod, making you laugh a bit. That is before you look over his shoulder, which is still hunched over from having to bend down to your height.

"I can see you two."

Your neighbors that have been nosily watching, quickly pop their heads inside their apartment and close the door. You smile and roll your eyes. "Neighbors." You kiss Leon's stubby cheek and shoo him away.

Leon gives you a charming smile and tells you that he will text you later. When he is a couple of steps away from the elevator, Leon hears you call out to your neighbors again.

"I can still see you two!"

When the Sun Knew He Would Clear the Dark Clouds to Let Her Shine

With his wrists tied together, Leon manages to use his legs to kick the infected away from him. JD is too inexperienced to aid Leon, so he needs to hurry or else they will both die in this hellhole. Before Leon can get the upper hand two shots are fired, killing the two infected. JD checks himself to make sure he is not bit or injured anywhere. Leon sits up and looks around to see who is responsible. It could be a friend or foe.

"You know when you said you'll wait for me to finish my case, I didn't think to find you in an underground bunker."

A part of Leon is relieved to see you, knowing that he has at least one person he can trust. The other part of Leon is PO-ed that you willingly threw yourself back into fighting BOWs. The DSO offered you a position for your extraordinary work back in Texas, but you declined. "I'm crazy to be doing what I do, but I'm not that crazy to fight BOWs for a living."

"What the hell are you doing here? How'd you find me?" Leon demands as you cut the restraints on his wrists.

Sarcastically, you ask him if that is how he greets you after you saved his ass from getting infected. "Hunnigan told me about your little stunt so she gave me your last known coordinates. I called your cell earlier which gave her a few seconds to find your general area. I followed the corpses, which is how I ended up here."

Before the conversation can go anywhere else, JD interrupts. "Woah! I knew American women were hot but seeing one of them in person is a whole lot better!"

You look at the punk male in disinterest. Comically, the guy tries his best to look cool but in fact, does the opposite. "So, you single?"

"Umm...I'm flattered but I'm actually getting married in a couple of months."

JD hunches over himself. "Awe man! Why are all the hot chicks always taken!"

"Probably 'cause she's with the hot guy next to you."

Confused, JD looks to his side and is face to face with Leon's brown sweater. Looking up, Leon is staring down at the short man with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Almost like he is challenging JD to say another stupid thing. The Eastern Slavic male nervously scratches the back of his head and whispers an apology to the American male.

Sighing, Leon tells JD that when he does decide to use the gun, to shoot the infected in the head for an instant kill. JD leads you and Leon further down the bunker and into a narrow hallway where a metal door is. Leon and JD try to pry the door open while you watch their backs. The grunts and noises from the door gain the infected's attention.

What creeps you out is that one of the infected's head slits open to reveal flesh-like tentacles. Leon calls out to you, telling you to get yourself on the other side of the door. A little annoyed that JD cannot force himself through the crack, you plant your foot on his back and manage to push him through the door. Leon tumbles inside the room after you and chains the door within a couple of seconds.

If you were not creeped out before, you definitely are now. When the three of you reach the surface, you end up witnessing how the citizens of this country are being infected. Like a scene from a sci-fi movie, an alien-looking creature is forced down a person's throat. Truly a parasite. The three of you take a quick break before reaching the cathedral. Uncharacteristically, Leon starts to once again, complain that he was shipped off here without anything to eat.

"Are you really that mad they didn't provide you with any breakfast? I get why you're pissed our vacation got cut short, but over breakfast?"

Leon shrugs his shoulders and looks at you like you are the crazy one. Then again, you are not surprised your fiance is bitching about not eating. The man gets hungry as fast as he gets hot. Seriously, if you are not blasting the AC at home, a puddle of sweat will form around Leon. Reaching into your vest, you pull out a wrapped snack.

Tossing it to him you say, "Here. Protein bar. Should hold you over for the next couple of hours." Leon thanks you a million times over, happy to finally have something in his stomach. You offer another bar to JD and he too thanks you for your generosity. You ask the two of them to fill you in on the missing details since you basically came to the country blinded.

When you and Leon eventually leave the cathedral thanks to JD's help, you end up meeting the woman who had Leon's heart long before you met him. A couple of minutes before meeting her, you told Leon to go ahead and go inside the parking garage. You will stay behind for a bit to make sure neither of you were followed. When you eventually go inside the parking garage, you spot Leon talking to a woman with short, black hair.

"So, shall we continue from that night?" She flirts.

Yes. You know who this woman is. In fact, you knew about her before you met your soon-to-be husband. Claire once told you about Leon when she used to crush on him. She would rant about how the DSO agent was practically wrapped around some other woman's finger. Who is this woman in question? Why, none other than the infamous Ada Wong. The woman that brings the ugly insecurities out of you.

"I don't think so, Ada. I don't know if you've heard but I'm getting married soon. Don't plan on fucking that up."

Ah, so the rumors are true. Who would have thought that the puppy she leashed years ago would slip off of its collar and run off to someone else?

"I heard. She must be something if she was able to steal you away." Ada taunts.

"She is. She's more than I could ever want and even a little more than that. She's the reason my endless cycle of hell has stopped. I'm not losing her." Leon wanted to add "And I was never yours to begin with," but he knew that was a lie. For the longest, Ada tugged at Leon's heart and even his soul. He could never get her out from the back of his mind even if he tried.

When he met you, that annoying gnat slowly started to disappear. You taught Leon how to live again, not just how to survive. When he was actually in D.C. and not somewhere else in the world, Leon looked forward to running with you and Shiloh every morning. Five days a week. To put it simply, Leon's hardened heart started to crack the more time he spent with you. There is no possible way to ever thank you for the light you bring to Leon's dark and lonely life.

Ada, as much as she hates to admit it, knows that Leon is telling the truth. He truly does cherish this woman. His eyes hold that conviction. She guesses that her game of cat and mouse with the former RPD is officially over. They both knew their past together would always be there, but now they would truly be going their separate ways. Her heart tugs a bit at the fact. Not that she would admit it out loud. She bids farewell to Leon before using her grappling gun to escape through the hole in the roof.

When Leon hears another pair of footsteps, he points his gun to his right, ready for another fight. He does not expect the love of his life to tackle him with so much force. Unknowingly, Leon cleared all of the insecurities you had about Ada. In fact, Leon would never know that you knew about his past with Ada or about her in general. Not even when he died as one of America's greatest heroes at the age of eighty-three.

When He Knew He Could Not Live Without His Sunshine

Leon knows how shitty his life has been since '98. Nothing seemed to be going right. In fact, it seemed that everything was going downhill since Raccoon. His apartment was bare as a result of how often Leon had to get up and leave at a moment's notice. Leon would drink his sorrows and pain away. He relied on alcohol, but now, he relies on you. A little too much he thinks but you do not mind. You know the shit he has seen and done. You know the shit he has to do to protect the innocent. You know the burdens Leon has to carry.

You make doing what he has to do a little bit easier every time he comes home. Leon used to wake up in an empty bed but now he wakes up to you sleeping next to him. Sometimes Shiloh will sleep between the two of you or favor one person over the other. On the rare occasions that he does get to sleep in, Leon loves to be woken up by you and Shiloh. You would have finished your morning workouts and have made breakfast. While Shiloh licks Leon's face, you kiss the one spot she missed, his lips. Probably because getting kissed on the lips by a dog is pretty gross, but you take what you can get.

Leon loves the quiet moments with you. The one where it seems like the world is in perfect harmony. No BOWs or maniacs wanting to turn the human race into the living dead. No orders from the president or the people under him. No guns. No explosions. Just you, him, and a cocker spaniel in the comforts of your shared home.

Leon loves it when the two of you cook together. You always seem to get a bit bitchy when things are not done your way in the kitchen (a trait that was passed down from your mother), but Leon deals with it. He tries to follow your instructions to the letter to make you proud. Even more so, he loves the end result. Sitting together at the table with delicious food the two of you made together.

Leon can list hundreds of reasons why he loves you, but it would never be enough. No list will ever be long enough for Leon to write down the different things he loves about you. About the things you bring into his life. His heart pounds whenever he thinks about you. He gets all giddy when he knows he is coming back home to you. He mourns the days when he has to leave because of some stupid assignment. It scares him whenever you put yourself in a battle against BOWs because you always have his back. Even if you hate BOWs as much as the next person.

The first time you shared an "I love you", Leon wanted to take you away to a secret location and live the rest of your lives there. Leon wants to be selfish and keep you all to himself, but then his sun will not be able to shine as brightly. Leon loves you. He desperately loves you. He will do just about any and everything to keep you by his side. Leon Scott Kennedy is hopelessly in love with you. It is the whole reason why he is at your childhood home in Georgia.

Knocking on the front door, he waits for one of your parents to open it. He called your parents a few days ago to tell them that he was coming to visit and asked if they could not tell you about it. Leon has just gotten back from a mission overseas so he looks a little roughed up, but he cannot let this opportunity slip. Your mother answers the door and lets Leon inside.

He is welcomed to a homemade meal, family style. A table set for three people. During the meal, your parents ask Leon what the hurry was. They worry that something has happened to you and Leon is here to bring them the horrible news.

"No. No. She's doing fine." Leon looks down at his watch. "In fact, she's probably on her way back to our place right now." The DSO agent knows your weekly schedule. He memorized it so he would always know the general area where he could find you if a disaster happened.

Leon looks directly at your father. "I came here to ask for your blessing to marry your daughter."

Yes, in the two years of knowing you and the year and a half of dating you, Leon Scott Kennedy wants to be with his sunshine for as long as time permits. His sunshine that gave his life anew. The sunshine that he loves dearly. His sunshine.

---

P.S. I wrote this in two days when I should be focusing on my class work. Whoops...Stay focused kids.

[selineram3421]

A little meow meow.

Temporary Control

Part 2

Part 1

Warning! ⚠

⚠ using she/they for reader, stalking, cussing, mentions of mind control, cannibalism mention(with small comic panel), blood, kiss on the palm of hand ⚠

Vox had a plan.

In order to make the pretty time doll run into his arms the Radio Demon had to make a really terrible mistake.

I'll be able to help with that.

He went to work, having his screens showing wherever the red dressed demon went to study his rival's habits and routes. Looking through spare parts for his little "bug" project.

While making the little bug device, Valentino had let himself in and got comfortable on a couch nearby the work bench.

"I was wondering what had you so cooped up~", the moth demon says before taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing some of the smoke out. "But I see its just him again."

"I'm busy.", he grumbles, flicking on the fan to ventilate the room and get rid of the smoke.

"Even for little 'ol me?", the pimp asks in a mock innocent tone.

"You're not little.", Vox huffs and solders some of the wires into place.

"That's what she said."

Putting down the soldering tools, the T.V. Demon turns around and finds Valentino laying down like the lady from the Titanic film.

"Draw me like one of your french girls~", the moth demon says with a wide grin.

Vox walks over and glares down at the demon. "Get the fuck out.", he says completely done.

"Hmm...", the pimp hums and takes a quick hit of the cigarette. "No.", he blows out the smoke at the blue demon's screen.

Swiping at the smoke, the T.V. demon scowls and grabs a cushion to toss at the moth's face, but he dodge it.

"I'm busy!", he shouts and goes back to the work bench.

Valentino rolls his eyes behind the heart shades and gets up from the couch, making his way over to stand behind him and look at the notes pinned up on the wall.

"What's got you all serious? Usually you'd fire another joke back.", the moth demon says.

Ignoring him, Vox continues to work and glances at his notes on the blueprints every so often.

After thoroughly reading through the notes, Valentino laughs.

"Making a mind control device? Your influence with the media and abilities should be enough for that."

"Its not just for any demon.", he pipes up, stopping his work to go over to the wall of screens that have been following the Radio Demon. "Its for that fucker right there."

The pimp goes and stands next to him, glancing over the screens.

Vox holds his arms behind his back. "With this little bug, it'll make it easier for me to take control of that guarded pretentious prick and make him do whatever I want.", he says turning to look at the taller demon.

"Oh~ And then you get his girl~", the moth demon chuckles.

The T.V. demon goes back to work and is finally able to kick the tall ass moth out of the room.

.

After finishing the "bug", Vox pinpoints where the Radio Demon is and mocks him through the screen, then he makes his way over to start the first part of his plan.

When arriving, he sees the cannibal walking away from the butchers with a bag and lifting up some sliver of bloody meat up to his lips.

Not waiting, he sends out some wires to attack.

The building nearby breaks apart, making some dust and debris fly off.

Alastor emerged from the dust clouds, flicking rubble off of his coat, past annoyed from earlier and now completely pissed off.

"You son of a bitch.", he growls out, eyes turning into radio dials.

"That's uncalled for!", Vox says in a fake offended tone. "But you're not wrong.", he grins and attacks again.

Its chaos as the two go at each other. Tossing vehicles, pieces of buildings, and even demons. And at some point they get close enough to ripping the other's head off.

The T.V. demon uses this opportunity to throw the bug onto his rival and watches as it crawls out of sight.

"€ŇØỮǤĦ Ø₣ ŦĦƗŞ ŇØŇŞ€ŇŞ€!", the deer demon shouts out with heavy static, using tentacles to try and pull him into one of the portals.

"As fun as this is, I'm going to have to leave.", Vox says, dodging the black tendrils. "Sorry to cut this short.", he says and manages to leave, dodging half a building his rival tries to crush him with. "Ta'ta Radio Shack!"

.

Alastor stared down at the remains of tomorrow's dinner, now a pile of dirty meat on the ground. The bag having ripped and contents spilled after Vox's attack.

"Damn that piece of-", he let out a sigh and collects himself before making his way back to the hotel.

She was waiting for him.

Their date was today and he didn't want to be late, that would be incredibly rude.

Deciding to speed things up, the Radio Demon teleported to his room and rushed to fix himself up. After being satisfied with his clothes, he walked over to their room and knocked on the door.

They open the door with a smile but then it disappeared, replaced with a frown instead.

Why the frown?

"Alastor, you're bleeding.", she steps closer and gently wipes the blood he didn't feel start to drip above his brow. "What happened?"

"Nothing too concerning darling.", he smiles and takes a hold of their wrist, placing a kiss on the palm of their hand. "Just had a run in with some vermin."

They tug on his sleeve and pull him into their room.

"Let's clean you up and get you rested. We can have date night another time.", they say and close the door behind him.

"But dearest-", he tries to change their mind.

"No. There's dark circles under your eyes, you need to rest.", they point out and usher him to sit on the bed.

He sits down without a fuss, knowing that they'd be upset if he didn't listen.

"Stay put while I get the first aid kit, ok?", his little hour glass says before pecking his forehead.

"Very well darling.", he mumbles.

They give him a wonderful smile before going into the bathroom to search for the box.

Feeling a bit tired, Alastor lies down and closes his eyes, not noticing the little bug bot attaching itself onto the back of his neck.

I'm half asleep. Wooo! *face plants onto bed*

~Seline, the person.

Part 3

Taglist@

@c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @ducky-died-inside @bisexualboba @willowaudreykeyes @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

ChL for TC

[silluuuu]

La petite robe noire

salut mes ami(e)s et welcome to Reverb 2024, La petite robe noire! i've had so much fun putting together this story with my artist partner @jadedkappa. it's been such a treat to hang out with you over these past couple of months, even with our crazy décalage horaire de 9 heures !!!

pls enjoy this very silly Art School AU, featuring a Death the Kid POV (a very fun experiment for me haha), lots of shenanigans, and of course, a sprinkle of Soul/Maka. big love to @toweroftunes for betaing and to the @reverbmod team for hosting and reviving this event! check out the beginning of the story below!! <3

If there's one thing Death the Kid hates, it's chaos.

Bound to one of his kitchen barstools, he taps a foot impatiently as he stares down at his phone, the crease between his brows forming a trench of Mariana depths as yet another message lights up his notifications.

He doesn't hate group projects, in theory. In practice, however, he is forced to remember the company he keeps, his hailstorm of a cohort of classmates and the inevitable chaos they incite at every turn. He wants to rip his hair out - though he knows this would disturb both his haircut and his perfect dye job, so he refrains. Sporting an off-kilter coiffe feels like he's breaking some kind of art school law. The rule of thirds for the scalp, as it were.

Ping, ping, ping! He reaches across the kitchen island to silence the phone, fingers clenched around a lukewarm cup of coffee that is doing nothing to combat his frazzled nerves. His screen continues to betray him with a whack-a-mole assortment of pop-ups, new windows appearing faster than he can close them.

It's not even technically a group project - he'd elected to bring his friends into this, though he's the only one getting a grade. As a fashion design student, he needs to be able to 'play nice with others', as his father had so cheerfully suggested throughout his youth. Over the years, he had mostly succeeded in fine-tuning his people-averse personality to make that happen. In this particular instance, the handsome compensation he'd offered them had certainly helped to grease the wheels.

The true chaos had started with the unfortunate development of this group chat. As much as this project is his brainchild, that had not been his idea.

It'll be easier to keep in touch with people! Liz had said. We can be creative together! Patty had said. You can stay organized, Liz had added at his continued reticence and, forever beholden to the concept of organization, this argument had been compelling enough for him to cave.

The chat is decidedly disorganized. Black Star has been sending them byte after byte of explosion noises with no end in sight, for seemingly no reason at all. Liz drops Instagram makeup tutorials every ten minutes - most of which seem suspiciously targeted at her own makeup needs instead of their project, but he digresses. Patty has been sending eyeshadow swatches, which she's been practicing on everything skin-like in the house - a definition that, he'd recently discovered, can differ greatly from person to person. In entirely related news, he must now deep-clean all of his silicone muffin tins after this project is done.

He's wading through chaos, up to the waist of his perfectly-pressed pants. He feels like a puzzle with pieces scattered every which way, and the most important ones are still lying under the table, invisible to the eye and impossible to meld with the others.

Choose a classic piece of clothing, and promote it through a printed poster and a video advertisement. This is the task he has been set, and while he's assembled a qualified team for both the poster and the ad, he's still lacking in both article and model for said piece. Without those two things, he's a sitting duck in his little chaos-pond.

At this moment, Liz walks in, surveys him in his state of many discomforts, and offers him a metaphorical hand.

"Do you want me to show you how to turn off notifications?" she says, expression deadpan.

Read the rest on AO3 :D

[hourcat]

31 for piarles pls 💙

(continued.)

Pierre's heart is in his throat as he stands in the Ferrari garage, fingers twisted in the VIP access badge hanging around his neck. He's been to Abu Dhabi before--training in the offseason, vacations with his influencer friends, even one time when he was a scraggly teenager invited to the Formula One World Championship over a decade and a half ago--but he's never been here. In the garage of the championship-leading F1 car, eyes glued to the screen playing the race out on track: the last two laps of the final race, the championship leader in the lead.

Charles is going to do it. He's going to win it all. Pierre swallows thickly at the sudden emotion that rises in his throat. He is going to win it all. Ten months ago, when he was sitting a good arms-length apart from Charles Leclerc in Fred Vasseur's office, he never imagined the contract he signed would lead him--them--here.

"Go on," he hears from somewhere beside him, and turns to see Silvia standing next to him. She's got a look in her eyes that makes Pierre shiver, some deeper level of knowledge that apparently comes with being the point person for Ferrari's biggest success on the racetrack in over a decade.

"What do you mean," he tries, but he knows what she's saying. The commentary box is going crazy as Charles starts on the last lap. Barring something absolutely disastrous, this is going to be what wins his boyfriend the world championship title.

Fake boyfriend, his brain corrects, and Pierre staggers a little at the reminder. Once the season ends, they're done with all of this--they can coordinate the break-up with the PR firm working overtime back in Maranello, and it'll be one last big cash grab news cycle before Pierre gets back to his bike and his own team and the knowledge that they'll probably have a fucking shot at success next year. The end is in sight.

Pierre's stomach flips at the thought.

"You should be running to parc ferme right now, Gasly," she says with a roll of her eyes, "because your partner is about to become the world champion and he'll be a journalist magnet for at least the next 96 hours."

She...knows. Silvia knows their relationship is for the media, knows that it's all been made up from the very beginning. But the look on her face...

"Shit." The Ferrari garage isn't that far away from where he needs to be, thank god, but the race is speeding to a close and she's right, he needs to get a move on if he's going to congratulate Charles, even just to kiss him one last time before their elaborate ruse ends. "Shit. Shit." Pierre turns on a heel and starts in a full sprint, only noting absentmindedly that he can hear her laughter as he goes.

It doesn't matter, really. All that matters is Charles. All that matters is Pierre being there, cutting through the chaos and the champagne and the confetti to get to his fake boyfriend before the rest of the world grabs hold of him. It's the only thing he wants right now: more than a new bike, more than another contract, more than anything he thinks he's ever wanted.

He skids to a halt at the barrier after colliding with about half of the press members and team staffers alike trying to reach this point. For a fleeting moment, he considers hopping over it--and then remembers the last time someone tried to go up against the unbelievably tight security here at the track and thinks, faintly, he'd prefer to be in one piece when Charles finds him. So he just...waits. Heart in his throat, breath half-frozen in his lungs, Pierre stands at the parc ferme barrier and waits for the eruption of joy and the fireworks to start.

There are no screens here, he realizes belatedly: anything could happen. Anything could be happening right now, without his eyes on it, a whole race of possibilities suddenly jumping to life in his traitorous brain, and he's never even cared about Formula One in his life before but the thought of anyone but Charles winning tonight, taking the championship home, is so nauseating that he has to grab the metal fencing more tightly to stay upright.

But victory comes. There's a flurry of sound all at once, as the world lights up with the victory apparently decided, and it only takes a few moments of listening to know that he'd been foolish to worry. Chants of IL PREDESTINATO rise high in the air from the stands, from the crowd around them, and that could be no one else. Charles did it. Charles won. There are tears on Pierre's face before he even registers he's crying.

"My champion," he says out loud, and remembers the conversation they'd had a lifetime ago, back when they were getting to know one another better--how this was Charles' biggest dream so far. To become champion of the world, if for no other reason than to honor his family name. His father, his grandmother, his godfather. Their old childhood friend who never mentioned a thing about knowing Charles. All people Charles considered family, all people he drives for every single weekend--and he's done it. Fuck, he's done it.

The podium cars pull up to their respective spots and all hop out, enthused enough about the stage and the end of the season to jump on their teams. Pierre watches as the three of them come together to shake hands, then split apart to celebrate with their engineers wildly, and it's so breathtakingly emotional that he chokes on his own breaths, drawn in hastily as he watches Charles get clutched by their beloved ensemble of red. Ferrari is for him. Ferrari has always been for him, but tonight, right now, it's more apparent than ever. As he stumbles away from their arms, unsteady on his feet from delight, Pierre watches as he tears his helmet away and shoves it into the arms of--one of the engineers hanging over the barrier, smile and tears both plastered onto her face. She nods at him. Charles turns, then, and catches sight of Pierre, and--

It's instinct that has Pierre thrust his arms out to grab him tight, tighter than he's ever held anyone before, and press his face into Charles' neck. He's soaked in sweat, he's trembling from exhaustion and emotion and adrenaline, and yet Pierre can't imagine an embrace that feels better than this. He could hold this man here for hours and it would be enough.

Charles pulls back first, though: his eyes are shining, mouth wet and red and trembling, and Pierre can't even think to say congratulations before he surges forward to catch the Frenchman in a full-on kiss. It's messy and formless and they're in front of the world but Pierre can't think to care. He can't be bothered to. It's easy to kiss him back fervently, hungrily, tenderly, because it's real. It's real to him, even if it's not real to the team or to Charles. Tonight, as the clock strikes 10, Pierre realizes that it's been real for a very long time.

When they part for a breath, Charles leans his forehead against Pierre's tiredly. "You're here," he manages, and laughs some soft and barely-there laugh. "Pierre, you're here."

It's almost incredulous sounding. "Of course I'm here," he answers, uncaring about the way his voice breaks on the words. "I love you, where else would I be?" And--well, he certainly hadn't meant for that to come out, but it's not untrue. In fact, he realizes with muted awe, it's truer than he'd even imagined it could be before now. "I love you, Charles." Repeated again, because it's true, it's true, it's true--

"You're stealing my moment," Charles responds with a choked laugh, but he doesn't move away. The hand he'd tangled in Pierre's hair gets firmer, keeps them pressed together for another long moment. "God dammit Pierre. I love you too. Christ, I've loved you longer than I think I even--"

Pierre won't let him finish that thought. Another searing kiss does the talking for him.

(from the i love you prompt meme)

[imminent-danger-came]

So- we all agree that MK will at some point fight his friends.

But what do you think would cause an actual fight to break out? I can imagine a CONFRONTATION. Arguing, a small scale brawl or scuffle. A full blown, all out, cataclysmic battle however? HOW???

Yeah, MK did lash out at Macaque when he was pretending to be Wukong. MK was definitely upset, but the thing that made him want to straight up fight Wukong was Macaque antagonizing him and hitting him where it hurts.

Mei and the real Wukong wouldn’t do that. They love MK too much. And vice versa. I just can‘t imagine them fighting eachother while fully aware.

Do you think it would be a loss of control situation? That MK‘s too powerful to contain? Brainwashing 2.0? Golden Circlet? Someone pretending to be MK and leaving the real one to deal with thr consequences? I‘m just listing all the different tropes at this point oof

Or do you have a specific scenario in mind that you think could realistically happen or hope for?

So! I think it'll be a combination of a loss of control, good ol' fashioned manipulation, and MK learning something that pushes him over the edge.

Like, you know in 4x13 where MK says things that distinctly don't feel like MK—"We'll alright then", "Oh there's nothing mindless about me friend"—and he's smiling and very much unhinged, and it's all kinda scary? I feel like there's gonna be a lot more of that next season, all aligning with MK and his fate vs what he actually wants. Like:

Subodhi: “Who or what you are, even I do not know the answer—but of one thing, I am certain: fate has plans for you! Great plans, or foul? Time will tell.” MK: "I- I can't be! I'm just MK!" Subodhi: "The Monkie Kid?" MK: *Gasps*

(4x06 Show Me the Monster)

-

"Great plans, or foul?" - "Remind me how this 'game' is supposed to convince me I'm not destined to turn into an evil monkey demon thing again? Cause every option I pick takes me to this same screen!" - Aka, despite your choices the final outcome is inevitable. MK wants to be MK, but he's also the Monkie Kid, and he can't separate himself from whatever he is—i.e. MK is gonna have to reconcile the different parts of himself, including the parts of himself he refuses to acknowledge.

The conclusion Macaque helps MK come to at the end of s4 is that no one can decide who MK is for him ("Only you get to decide who you are kiddo."), and what I LOVE to point out is that the person who decided who MK is, who he will be, was in fact himself—or at least the curse version of himself:

(*sigh* this wasn't supposed to be super long and then it was. The rest under the cut!)

Curse MK: “Haha, seriously? You still think we’re just some, noodle delivery guy? You can’t remember where we came from, and we got ALL this power, and you never once thought, WHY US? What are we? What is our purpose?”

-

Curse MK: “You can’t escape it, this thing, whatever you are, embrace it. Embrace your destiny.”

-

Curse MK: "You can see it, can't you? This is your fate. Your friends will turn on you, seeing you for the monster you will become. They will destroy you, harbinger of chaos."

(4x07 Pitiful Creatures)

-

It's this interesting mess, where it seems like MK is spiraling towards becoming something else, something he doesn't want to become. So let's add a little check mark next to the "loss of control" box for why MK is fighting his friends next season—I'm not sure he'll be entirely "himself" if you catch my drift (maybe a kinda Samadhi Fire Mei situation, similar to the way she loses control).

Next point: good ol' fashioned manipulation.

So, just like LBD we got another puppet master on our hands, the person who was pulling the strings and released Azure.

AKA whoever the fuck this guy is:

Hooded Figure: "There will of course be an inquiry into how the scroll of memory was stolen in the first place, and what is to be done now that the Jade Emperor has been dethroned. The universe is perilously close to tipping into chaos. If it comes to light that any of this party were involved, you can believe the consequences will be dire—but only a fraction of the price compared to what shall come to pass should you succeed."

(4x14 Better Than We Found It)

-

The thing about this guy who wanted Azure to become the Jade Emperor and lose control—perhaps they wanted the Jade Emperor's power without a host so they could use it for their own purposes?—is that we don't know what their plan is, but we can assume it's going to include MK ("Great plans or foul?", MK as a "harbinger of chaos" with this mystery person trying to tip the universe into chaos, etc.—I'd argue they're the next stand in for destiny)

Which gets me to my point: our hooded figure is going to manipulate MK the same way they manipulated Azure, and the same way LBD manipulated MK before, which means gettin' all up inside MK's head. Making him doubt both himself and Monkey King and his friends.

And well, people trying to turn MK against Wukong has had a track record of MK absolutely losing his shit and going into Monkey form before (which admittedly may be the very thing the hooded figure wants):

1.) The very first time MK glitches into Monkey Form is after the curse insists that "We're just like Wukong—a fraud! A trickster! Destructive! Why would our legacy be any different? Actually, no no- the chaos and destruction we'll bring upon the world will make Wukong's past look like nothing."

2.) Then, first time MK fully enters monkey form is after the curse insists that "It's just like the Lady Bone Demon said—all you'll ever do is cause pain and suffering!", which in itself is tied to the words Mei says to Wukong in 3x10 "Don't you see you're hurting the people who care about you the most?" which is ALSO tied to 4x08 with the reason MK decides to run off to begin with—he's afraid of hurting the people he cares about (just like Wukong) and that perhaps he really is only destined to cause pain and suffering.

3.) After 4x07 MK goes into his Monkey Form again in 4x08, but this time it's after Azure tried to destroy MK's faith in Wukong ("Monkey King's a hero he wouldn't just-" "You saw it with your own eyes! His betrayal his brutality, he took the only friends I had from me."). MK really starts to lose it after he learns Azure won't release Wukong from the scroll ("I won't let you take Monkey King away from me again!").

4.) Next, in 4x09, MK starts glitching into Monkey Form after Macaque insults Wukong ("Or, he was just doing his usual Wukong thing and being a lazy peach eating idiot—ignoring all the worlds problems."). It's also directly after MK wonders why Wukong stayed on flower fruit mountain all those years: "You think Monkey King ever felt like this? Maybe that's why he stayed up on this mountain, just having a good time with you guys. You know cause- cause he knew he'd be out of the way where he couldn't hurt anyone he cared about."

5.) Next instance of Monkey Form isn't until 4x13, but I'd argue it's the most relevant of the bunch. For the entire special MK hadn't flickered into Monkey Form once, but he does after Azure starts insulting his loyalty to Wukong: ""After all Sun Wukong has put you through, how much he has let you down, you would STILL meet your fate trying to protect him? He doesn't deserve such loyalty, yet you insist on learning the hard way, just as I did. I should have never trusted the Monkey King! The false sage, equal to NOTHING!"

And then after this we have the scariest instances of Monkey MK I ever did see:

MK is ripe to be manipulated in all the wrong ways, specifically around his relationship with Monkey King—and perhaps even his friends if the situation gets bad enough (though I would imagine it being something more like MK trying to leave to protect them [again] and the gang not letting him) (Other side note: there are literally 5 examples of MK going into Monkey Form because of how his relationship/view of Wukong is being called into question, all at the end of s4. That is so many).

I think a la 2x05 and 4x07 MK will also have his perception of himself pushed to it's limits via our new antagonist. So rather than Wukong or Mei antagonizing MK for him to lash out, I'd say our puppet master will be the one to antagonize MK. To push him towards whatever they need MK to be for their plans.

And with that, I'm checking off box number 2 "good ol' fashioned manipulation".

Now onto point number 3, MK learning info that pushes him over the edge (which will be helped by point number 2 and lead to point number 1, FULL CIRCLE BABY).

So the special definitely set up the fact that there's more both MK and the audience don't know about Wukong's past, particularly around Macaque:

Macaque: "Every choice has consequences kid, for someone." MK: "Okay come on man! What happened between you two, for realzies!"

MK: "Seriously! Come on man I need answers!"

(4x11 A Lifetime of Mistakes)

-

Oh sweet MK, answers you will receive! They just won't be the answers you want. (The fact that MK is questioning Wukong's past at all, along with the curse saying "We're just like Wukong" as proof they were destructive, leads me to believe that uh, maybe your boy is having some doubts! One of the things MK is specifically upset at Azure about is that the Lion attempted to "turn him against his own mentor". That's all gonna lead somewhere)

Which, the implication is clear:

For undoubtedly some important reason, Wukong had to either kill Macaque or bring him to deaths door. But, MK over there who refused to abandon or hurt Mei even when she was going to burn away reality, who refused to abandon his friends even if it might risk unleashing the curse into the world, might not understand the nuances (hi "good guy" V "bad guy" binary mentality) of whatever happened between Wukong and Macaque.

Lego Monkie Kid is a show where plot points and arcs line up—the fact that MK's faith in Wukong is being questioned, the origin of SWK and Macaque's falling-out is just around the corner, and MK losing control is a very likely possibility, it all means I would be surprised if it everything wasn't going to be acknowledged at around the same time. All these things will build off of one another, and MK is going to spiral HARD (and SWK probably will too. Sorry boys)

The Macaque and SWK backstory alone would be enough I think, or WHATEVER other Wukong past plot points they want to introduce, but we also have the matter of MK's origins—his purpose. Why he was created and why he exists (again that who MK wants to be VS what fate has in store for him, and acknowledging the different parts of himself). MK, without any real knowledge of what he is, already believed that he was destined to bring chaos. Say, MK were to learn that he was either created for such a purpose or was something that caused chaos before (hello EAMK), this would absolutely RUIN MK's perception of himself.

So then combining all of these different problems and the culmination of MK's series long crippling self-doubt/identity arc, we're like, fucked? Honestly I can't imagine MK not having a full blown, all out, cataclysmic battle and breakdown.

There have also been certain things building up from s2 that MK never really talked about with Wukong. MK was willing to punch Wukong in 2x07 (the og "hey MK your mentor kinda sucks" episode). He was clearly hurt by Wukong's decision to leave in s2, Wukong proceeded to lie all through s3, and after Monkey King apologizes to MK in 3x14, he sort of brushes it off:

Sun Wukong: "I know I can never make it up to you. Honestly, I- I never thought I'd live as long as I have let alone be someone's mentor—turns out I'm not very good at it. I guess what I'm trying to say is...I'm sorry MK. For all of it." MK: "It's okay—I can always get another bowl of noodles."

Sun Wukong: "Wha! No! Not the noodles! Ugh! I mean, I'm sorry for being a bad mentor and making you clean up after my mess!" MK: "I know—sometimes I just play dumb to lighten the mood."

(3x14 Destiny Fulfilled) (Crying look at that face full of love. Oh my god. Fuck. Fuck me. How dare I write a meta on why these two are going to fight)

-

To me, this scene reeks of MK going "oh thank god things can go back to normal", and then trying to sweep everything under the rug without actually acknowledging or processing anything. He does something similar in 4x11, wanting to brush past Wukong's mistakes and rush to SWK's "path of the good guy" and "good life choices" so that he can move on.

When it comes down to it, MK doesn't want to have any issues with Wukong, but unfortunately there are very much issues. Wukong has tried his best to make amends and be better for MK, but MK isn't letting himself heal. He's running from himself, and he wants to pretend things are much simpler than they are.

And, once MK is forced to come face to face with how complex and messy both himself and Wukong are? I am expecting that kid to break and an all out fight to emerge. SWK V MK, Mentor V Student, Monkey King V Monkey Kid.

But, because Wukong is Wukong, he's not going to be able to go all out against his student (he couldn't even go all out against Macaque or Ne Zha), which, with how powerful MK is, that's not going to go well. That's where the gang steps in—they're going to have to try and put a stop to MK, and get him to see reason, to come back to himself. "Mend the fracture between [him]self and Wukong" if you will. Perhaps even Samadhi Fire Part 3 if we're lucky.

Or at least that's how I imagine it could go down!

[voids-colourful-creations]

1.5 Meters and 100+ Years -- A Shiver and Marina Fic

[Read on Ao3!]

Rated: G Relationships: Marina & Shiver Splatoon 3 Content Warnings: Mentions of Octarian Military Words: 3.1k

Summary: It'll be Off the Hook's first performance in Splatsville, and the debut of Suffer no Fools, so Marina's just a tad nervous. It doesn't help that her feelings on Suffer no Fools are… complicated, to say the least. The only person in the green room with Marina is Shiver… and despite how similar they are, Shiver's much too different from Marina to understand this.

---

By this point in her career—what was it now, 7 years in?— performing didn’t give Marina nerves so much as it did excitement. The comfortable rhythm of performing alongside Pearl never got mundane, not with her energy. Not with the chaos she sought to bring to everything they did. Now, Marina was grateful for it! Each day she got to perform on stage, Pearl beside her, was a gift. Every recording session was a rush, the thrill of creating something, creating music … Marina wouldn't have it any other way.

So waiting in the green room, it didn’t scare her anymore. This would be Off the Hook’s first show in Splatsville, but Marina only found that made her more excited. The anticipation of the stage was just a spark of enjoyment, before the thrill of the lights, the vibration of Pearl’s voice so close to her.

Knowing this, Marina could be certain that it wasn’t the oncoming performance making her hearts beat this quickly. It wasn’t the setlist causing that tiny jolt, a touch of anxiety no matter how she tried to hide it.

Though Pearl herself could make Marina’s heart race… well… she was with Frye now, running over their pre-show banter for possibly the dozenth time that day. Well, that was what they were supposed to be doing, but knowing Pearl and Frye, the conversation had probably long since spiralled off track.

So without Pearl, waited Marina, in the green room of the performance venue, alongside Shiver. And Shiver alone.

It was a small room, one perfect square. Two doors, two couches. The door to Marina’s left led into the hallways leading out to the stage, a small ticking clock above the door the only indication time was really passing. To her left, the hallways leading back out, a maze of hallways until their back exit.

On the other walls, each couch, and an accompanying side table. Marina sat on one couch, tucking herself into the corner. Opposing her, Shiver. She sat, one leg over the other, idly tapping her fingers across the couch's arm.

Neither looked at the other.

Dark brown walls surrounded them on all sides, broken up by a few advertisements for the venue’s services, and a tv screen above Marina’s head displayed a visual feed of the currently empty stage. While she couldn’t see it, the anticipatory chatter of the crowd's voices was more than loud enough.

No one within the room made a sound. The ticking of the clock was merely an audible record of each moment passed without a word.

Tension filled the room, at least to Marina’s view. With Pearl around, conversation flowed easily. Some question or barb would be thrown, and a quick retort. Of course, for Marina, anything was made easier if Pearl was by her side.

She was a grown woman now, a professional, and more than capable of representing her half of Off the Hook calmly and gracefully, without or without Pearl.

But sitting alone with Shiver still put Marina just the slightest bit on edge.

“Are you nervous?” Shiver asked, cool voice cutting through Marina’s thoughts. There was no emotion there, or nothing that Marina could pick up on at least. If anything, an idle curiosity.

“Oh, no, no,” Marina responded, maintaining the polite and friendly tone she’d practiced, “I’m looking forward to the show very much, and having you both open with us is an excellent opportunity. I’m very excited to have Off the Hook collaborating with Deep Cut, if only in part.”

Shiver nodded, raising her fan to her face.

“Thank you. The feeling is… mutual. However, that wasn’t what I intended. You seem… anxious.”

Part of Marina felt like this was the same song and dance she’d seen before. The way fingers that weren’t stilled were seen as nervous, that wandering eyes were afraid. She was far too experienced for any of that, no. It was simply the joy of it, and that won’t fade no matter how many years she performs.

But Marina gave Shiver a long, hard look. That wasn’t what she’d meant.

“I might be a tad… starstruck? Is all.” Marina settled on.

Shivers eyes widened before she could conceal her surprise.

“Naturally,” she responded as though Marina hadn’t noticed her prior shock, “Although I’d wondered if it was that and… that alone.”

Shiver was the trickiest of all of Deep Cut to talk to. Marina could never quite tell when she was still performing as part of the band, or the Hohojiro clan, or whatever part of her. Maybe she just never stopped.

But then, wasn’t Marina much the same? Trying to figure out how much of herself to show, which parts… Which facet of her looked best in their light? 

Taking a sharp breath and raising a gentler, honest smile, Marina took a gamble.

“Really, I’m totally fine. As bright as a floodlight.” She let the words come to her in Octarian, spoken out for once instead of sung.

Shiver seemed frozen, for a moment. Then her reply, Octarian in kind:

“I am glad to hear it. …But I must apologize, I am afraid I do not know what you might be referring to in regards to the phrase “as a floodlight”?”

Hitting Marina full force came the acknowledgement of what she’d already known.

Shiver had never lived underground.

The twin pupils in Shiver’s eyes analysed Marina, as Marina’s own did the same. They were so similar. The same pointed finger tips, where Pearl, Frye, Callie and Marie’s were blunt. The way her tentacles would curl up on their own, the cups facing towards the sun, instead of inwards.

But Shiver’s Inkling never had the lilt of accent Marina’s words did. Everything Octarian about her, from ears to hair to shape, were displayed proudly. Another worthy successor in a long line of great Octolings. Octolings who’d lived on the surface for generations. It really was so glaringly obvious looking at Shiver, how different they were. It was almost overwhelming, how stark the contrast.

“Marina? Might I call your attention?”

Even by Octoling standards, and by Shiver standards, Shiver’s speech was absurdly formal, and Marina almost wanted to laugh at the sound of her. She spoke much older than herself, drifting out of even elderly speech and into archaic.

Their roots were the same, a central pillar they were both moored to. But the distance between them had to be miles, for Shiver’s shape in the distance was nearly unrecognisable.

“It is nothing.” Marina replied, tucking her head down, “Do not trouble yourself.”

Nearly subconsciously, her language shifted into something more formal, befitting of someone of her station. Former station. Nearly.

“Please find yourself forgiving me, should I be so callous as to have insulted you.” Shiver said.

Marina bit her lip.

“Really it’s… please. You don’t have to speak so formally to me. We’re just… colleagues, yeah? Fellow musicians.”

Shiver ducked her head down and nodded.

“Ah, yes. I thank you greatly. However, I must request a kindness from you once more. This is the only manner in which I know how to speak. These words, they are what has been… gifted to me, by my family.”

One of Marina’s heart’s twisted.

“I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have assumed—” She shifted her speech; Inkling words she’d worked so hard to master flowing off her tongue like water, “You can speak however, whatever you like. Not that you… need my permission.”

Shiver raised an eyebrow.

“Very well then, this is the manner in which I will continue to speak.” Came her reply, Octarian as before.

Marina breathed a soft sigh of relief.

“Rather then, it is my place to thank you.” Shiver added, raising her fan over her mouth again.

“How so?” Marina asked, letting herself speak in Octarian again. It felt right, to match Shiver. A conversation flowing freely, words borrowed and returned. 

“I appreciate the opportunity to speak in this way.” Shiver said, “It is rare I do, and on the occasions in which I am… Forgive my bluntness, but you are perhaps more relaxed about the correct usages of grammar than my family is.”

Marina laughed, awkwardly covering her face with her hands in a desperate attempt to hide it.

“Please, it’s nothing. It’s nice for me too.”

Shiver raised an eyebrow, peering up over the tip of her fan.

“Hm? But you are always singing in this language, are you not?”

Marina straightened slightly. It was much easier now, years later and having made many more Octoling friends out in the sunlight… But sometimes it made her nervous to be reminded. For the first few years of her career, singing in Octarian was her way of calling to her friends and family. Her inkling was still a bit rough around the edges, but in Octarian she could express herself in full vibrancy. Not only that, but a little part of her hoped that somewhere down there, another Octoling would hear her. Hear her and have something click, like it had for her. The connections down in the domes could be hit or miss, but there was always someone fiddling with radio signals to intercept music from the surface.

No matter what song it was she was singing, no matter the lyrics, she always hoped they’d understood what she was trying to say.

I made it, I’m safe, I’m happy . You can be too.

Eight confessed to her once, a few months after their journey to the surface, they themself had heard her. Once or twice, only a few times from below, through the static and fading signal strength. Her message had been received. There was no need for Octarian singing now, with Inkling language mastered and more and more Octolings coming to the surface by the day.

By that point though, it was tradition. Marina was all for mixing up genres and switching up her style but this was special. A sort of singing totally unknown to Inkopolis when Marina had first started, and now one she could display proudly to Inklings and Octolings alike.

…but when she’d started, she was always a little scared that someone would realise what she was singing wasn’t just Not-Inkling, but Octarian .

“I am…” Marina said slowly, “It just… it felt right when I was starting out, and I never stopped.”

Marina glanced over at Shiver, trying to gauge her reaction. To Marina’s surprise, Shiver only nodded, quietly.

“And you?” Marina asked, ever so slightly hesitant, “Your singing…”

At this, Shiver grinned, pulling her fan down so the corners of her lips could be seen peeking out from behind.

“For Deep Cut, I am singing in the Inkling language. My voice will reach as many people as possible, thus I should sing in the language most people speak. It is our music, still. The style, however. That is from my family. No matter how well your haunting voice may imitate it.”

Marina grinned, “Oh, so that one you meant, hmmm~?”

Shiver barked out a laugh, pointed teeth bared wide.

“I do not lie about such things!”

Marina leaned forward, tentacles brushing against the edge of her couch.

“Awww, now you’re going to hurt my feelings. You say such terrible things in our song~!”

Her voice lilted at the end, singsong as she teased.

“This is a surprise,” Shiver replied, equally as amused, “From your lyrics I would have believed you were unaware I was even insulting you.”

Marina shrugged.

“What can I say, I like to play nice.”

Before either one can say another word, one of the PA’s, an inkling in all black, sticks her head in the door.

“Ladies, 5 mins before we need you backstage.”

“Oh, thank you very much!” Marina replied, startled slightly.

“Thank you.” Shiver said in unison, both girls switching back to speaking Inkling on a dime.

Marina sighed as the Inkling nodded and exited, quick as she’d appeared.

“Right then… are you ready?”

Shiver nodded, quick and sharp.

“Always. Are you?”

It was a simple question, really. The baggage Marina had tied to everything was invisible to Shiver, so there was really no way she would’ve known. Even if she’d cleared the air with Shiver, to say the tension had been all because of her wouldn’t be right, exactly. The tight feeling in Marina’s hearts remained.

Marina shifted slightly, tentacles bobbing up and down as they curled and uncurled.

“…Yes, I’m ready.” She replied, a beat too late.

Shiver scoffed, waving her hand dismissively.

“You’re a worse liar than Frye.”

Marina shrugged, avoiding eye contact in lieu of elaboration.

“If you’re going to have some issue with our performance, make it known now,” Shiver said, “There’s no time for it once we’re onstage. Spit it out now or else I expect nothing less than a perfect show. I won’t have you embarrassing us.”

Marina bristled.

“I’ll have you know I can perform just fine. I would never give anything less than my all at any performance, let alone one debuting a new song!”

“Then what’s your problem?” Shiver asked, collapsing her fan and jabbing it out towards Marina.

Caught between defensiveness and uncertainty, Marina leaned back, creating a touch more distance between her and Shiver.

“Suffer no Fools.” She said after a moment, not looking towards Shiver. “You’re proud of it, yes?”

Shiver raised an eyebrow.

“I refuse to release any song if it isn’t perfect .”

Marina smiled, her eyes wide and a touchy watery. 

“Then you wouldn’t understand.”

Shiver crossed her arms, “Try me.”

There was that air of superiority to her, a statement made bluntly, backed heavily by the weight of confrontation. But with the weight of her words came a release as silence– sans the clock– filled the space. A relaxation of sorts, in that lull. So Marina spoke.

“Pearlie’s never cared about her image, not as long as I’ve known her. She does whatever she wants, when she wants, regardless of who’s looking. It’s… one of the things I love about her. And Frye, well she’s kind of the same way, right?”

Shivers grin was sharp, stretching wide past her fan.

“Naturally. No one can contain our Frye. Her power and drive are unparalleled.”

Marina smiled softly, directing her gaze towards the ground. “I admire that more than you could possibly know. But for me… I can’t do that. I worry about what In- what everyone will think of me. I want to be me , but even now I also want to be the me that… that people like. At least, not someone they would hate? And I don’t… Even if it’s not real– I don’t want to be…”

Marina bit her tongue, trying to find the way to convey this, a way to describe all her hang ups and fears. In any language, she couldn’t find it.

“Shunned.” Marina finished, words still not quite right falling flatly to the floor. Shiver remained silent, taking this in. She nodded, hummed slightly, but there was no verbal reply.

“So then… you?” Marina prompted, “You’re like the others, aren’t you. You don’t care if people see this and get the wrong impression? And think you’re… mean?”

At this, Shiver threw her head back, a barking laugh echoing around the room.

“Oh no, no, no! Of course not. I am mean.”

She said it so plainly that Marina almost wondered if she’d misheard at first.

“Wh- No, you aren’t!” Marina cried, snapping her focus up towards Shiver. She didn’t look upset, there was no hint of self deprecation lingering in her eyes. As always, Shiver’s gaze was piercing, matter of fact.

Shiver shrugged. “To each her own, I suppose. But optimism doesn’t change what I am, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Marina kept silent. What could she even say?

Shiver continued for her.

“Maybe in Inkopolis it’s better to have a squeaky clean rep, but that’s never really been Splatsville’s style. And a messy, chaotic town needs music to suit, no? Playing it safe and sweet doesn’t fit this place, and it certainly doesn’t fit me. Besides, some sugary sweet pop star isn’t what Splatsville needs.”

“What Splatsville needs?” Marina echoed.

“Someone like us.” Shiver answered, “Someone mean and sharp and who loves Splatsville as it is without trying to sand down its edges. A hometown hype squad, loud and vicious and ready to strike first. Sharks don’t scare you when you know they’re on your side, after all. We ought to make a show of defending our territory.”

Marina looked over Shiver. Her proudly displayed ears, her jagged teeth and pointed finger tips. Everything about the way she carried herself, her family crest emboldened against her fan… In so many striking ways, they were so different—

“‘Cause it’s mine to protect.”

—But in the end, quite the same. This time, Marina thought she could say she understood. Despite the distance, it all came back to home. 

Marina blinked heavily, clearing her throat. No time to get choked up, not when there was an audience anticipating her, not with Pearl awaiting.

“I’m sure the 40/60 profit split doesn’t hurt either, no?” Marina added playfully.

“My, you do catch on quick!”

Snapping her fan shut, Shiver began to straighten herself, preparing to be called to stage.

“Still,” Shiver mused, adjusting her shark bite earring, “If any pop group had to invade Splatsville, I’m glad it was Off the Hook.”

It’s far from the highest praise Marina’s received, but something about the way Shiver said it filled Marina’s hearts.

“I’m glad,” Marina said, “Coming from you, that means a lot.”

Shiver rolled her eyes– “Don’t read into it too much” –But Marina didn’t miss the tiny smile she let slip.

“I mean, with the devastating insults you’ll be slinging at me on stage, I was so worried you really hated us!” The sarcasm was so thick in Marina’s voice it could’ve been used for soundproofing.

“Oh no, if this’d been a real threat you’d be long gone.”

Marina giggled, “I’m glad you’re so… confident in yourself~!”

Shiver threw her a side eye.

“Bit late to be switching up our lyrics, but I’m more than happy to bring our fans a more authentic experience.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

The roar of the audience could be heard in the distance, through the soundproofing and distance. Thousands of cheers as Pearl and Frye take the stage, arguing as planned.

By the time the PA came in the door, Marina and Shiver were already standing, heading out to join them.

“Ah, you’re already prepped?”

The fluttering feeling of anticipation lingered in Marina’s hearts even now. But she heard the echoes of Pearl’s voice rebound in the hallway, bouncing against Frye’s. At her side, Shiver gave her one last nod, and a small smile.

So then, she could be certain she meant it to say,

“Yeah, we’re ready.”

Because when Marina stepped out onto the stage she could hear it, alongside the cheers of a thousand different voices and the faux arguing of her friends. That sound, of everything connecting where it should.

[End]

[dearheart42regenerated]

gritting my teeth and sharing this in the tag in hopes that it'll help me manifest actually FINISHING this fic.......

--

“I’m still not buying this!” Chuck popped out from the passenger’s side and leaned over the door, pointing an accusing finger at her. “How do you really know about Mutt?” he demanded.

Capri blinked and frowned, giving him a once-over as she crossed her arms. “How do you know about Mutt, Goldilocks?”

Texas cracked up at the nickname, slapping Dutch on the back. “Goldilocks! That’s a good one, hahaha…” 

“The name’s Chuck, for your information,” huffed Goldilocks, “and I’ve been hanging with Mikey since elementary school. Where have you been his whole life?”

“Elementary school, huh?” Something bitter flickered in her eyes. “That must’ve been nice…”

Mike tried to calm his friend, slightly taken aback by how riled up he was. “Easy, Chuckles, let’s just–”

“No! I’m not gonna sit back and let some random stranger put you through this all over again, dude! It’s not okay!”

“Look, I appreciate it, but–”

“All she has is a story about your bobblehead. That’s not actual proof she’s your sister!”

“He’s right.” Dutch’s eyes were wary. “Anyone could make up a childhood memory like that. How do we know Kane isn’t paying this one off like he did with your fake dad?”

“Let’s at least hear her out first, guys,” said Julie, exasperated. “You can’t demand ‘real proof’ and then not give her a chance at all! Maybe she–”

“I still say she’s an evil clone!” Texas declared.

The arguing devolved into chaos, everyone speaking over each other to the point where nothing coherent could be heard anymore.

“Heartwarming reunion over, I guess,” Capri muttered, unfastening her thigh holster. She pulled out a laser pistol and fired two blasts into the air. “EVERYONE. SHUT UP.”

Everyone shut up.

She sighed and holstered the gun, glaring at nobody in particular. “Sweet baby gumdrops. Okay. FIRST of all…” She turned to Mike. “You don’t need to take my word for it. I wouldn’t take my word for it, either.” Her com-screen popped up, glowing fiery orange. She scrolled, selected a file with the words “CAPRI C. GENETIC PROFILE” hovering above it, and flicked it over to him. “There you go. The DNA can speak for itself.”

Mike took it but barely glanced at it, still looking at her as if she were a hologram herself – something that could disappear any second. Chuck just stared at the unopened file from the other side of the car, unable to hide his own curiosity.

“Secondly. Goldilocks.”

He jumped and straightened his posture with a gulp. (Texas snickered.)

Her boots thumped in the silence as she strode towards him, cold annoyance in her voice. “For your information, I wasn’t talking about Mutt to prove I’m Mike’s sister. I brought it up to find out if he’s my brother.” She fished in one of her pockets and pulled out a well-worn photograph, dangling it in front of his nose. “There could be any number of ‘Mike Chiltons’ running around and I haven’t been here in a while. I wanted to be sure.” 

“Whoa,” he murmured, one hand reaching for it. 

Capri snatched it away, eyes hard as steel, and walked back around to Mike. Her expression softened when she handed the photo to him. “I am sure, now.”

It showed a little girl with messy hair and an even messier t-shirt – face scrunched up in a grin, one front tooth missing – and a wide-eyed baby dangling in her arms like a kidnapped puppy, clutching Mutt in small chubby hands, attempting to shove the top of its bobbing head in his mouth. The colors were faded, the edges bent and torn; but the happiness captured in it was so vibrant it made his chest ache. 

Any doubts he had left vanished, replaced by dizzying questions he couldn’t find words for. He had a sister. This was real. (What happened?)

“Thirdly!” said Capri, giving the other Burners a smile that bordered on a snarl. “I’m so very sorry if I’m being rude here, it's just that I spent the last seventy-two hours hopping city-to-colony and crossing a gazillion miles of mutants, raiders, boiling heatwaves and radiation pits to get back to Motorcity. Totally for funsies, of course. It's not like I’ve been trying to track down the only family I have left or anything.” 

Everyone shifted uncomfortably.

“Point being, I’ve had a long flippin’ day! So how about you nosy little ferrets take that file I just sent, run the DNA test, confirm I’m actually not a lying scumbag, and then y’all can decide on how to torture me next. What do you think?” she growled, shooting “Goldilocks” an incinerating look. “That sound alright to you? Chuck?”

Chuck all but melted into a whimpering puddle of terror and compliance, stammering out a vaguely affirmative reply as he stumbled over to where the unopened file still hovered.

“Great! Glad we could get that sorted out.” 

Everything in her demeanor dripped with spite…but Mike was beginning to notice the dark circles under her eyes, the heaviness in her shoulders. How many miles had she really crossed to get here? How many hours had she spent combing the dark labyrinth of Motorcity to find him? (Based on nothing but a hope that it might be him?)

And then they had all assumed the worst of her. 

Capri must be exhausted.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me…” She stormed off towards her motorcycle. “I’m gonna check my bike for damage and maybe also secretly plot to sell out your leader to the guy who destroyed my whole childhood. Holler if you need me.”

[yellowhollyhock]

part 1 part 2 part 3

The day started out ordinary enough.

I'd been out, just needed to get away, y'know? Not a big deal. I ran into a bit of trouble with some Foot idiots, nothing I couldn't handle. They were picking on this baby turtle. Really bad night for them to make that choice, I was already in a bad mood.

Master Splinter's hard to talk into pets; he's got a soft heart for strays, but he's also got a strong sense of duty, and he thinks taking in an animal we aren't equipped to care for is irresponsible. I can see where he's coming from, but it's not like I can show up at the animal shelter and make sure she gets settled. I hate to just drop her off. I figured if he saw the little princess he might change his mind.

The thing is, we didn't even end up talking about the baby turtle, except Mikey wants to know what I'm gonna name her. Master Splinter's on my case about going out alone again. Technically I was supposed to knock that off, leave a note or something. But I'm sixteen. That's too old to have to tell somebody every time I'm coming or leaving.

If you ask me, how worried everyone got is just a sign of how bored they are all cooped up in the sewers. Especially Leo. He sure gets on my nerves sometimes. He's so smug. Not all of us can pass the time meditating, y'know? The guy really needs a hobby. He's old enough he ought to be thinking for himself, not just parroting everything Master Splinter says. Don't get me wrong, Master Splinter's a real good guy. I'm just tired of Leo trying to be his mini me. I definitely don't need him echoing every word of the lecture I'm getting; once is enough, thanks.

Mikey kinda understands, I think. He causes his chaos at home, I cause mine on the surface. Sometimes I think I could get along with him okay if he'd stop singing the Spongebob theme song and making the whole place smell like his cooking experiments. Or if he actually stood up to Leo and Splinter once in a while. He's got so much skill, he could do a lot of good! But he gets spooked so easily, I can't take him anywhere. So he cowers in the sewers and hogs the TV.

Oh, yeah, Donnie's there, too--barely. He's got this project that's been taking up all his time--something about the empty space between atoms. He never explains the whole thing because, if you can get him to look up and talk to you in the first place, he talks himself in circles and goes right back to his screen. It's kind of starting to get on my nerves. But he gets like this sometimes. Sooner or later he'll either finish or it'll blow up and he'll have to take a break till we can replace the parts. It can be hard not to feel like he doesn't care, either about what's going on in the city, or even right behind him.

Anyway, I guess Master Splinter was worried about me being out in the weather. Mikey says there's supposed to be a big storm tonight. It was kinda rainy, but not that bad.

Maybe I'll name the turtle Kingyo, or Ponyo. Her spots kinda remind me of a goldfish, plus finding her on such a rainy night.

Or maybe Toto; I like how that one sounds.

[savagebisand]

We need to talk about Boeing...

You cannot fool me JoJo. As fortuitous as I feel to see Mond's gorgeous scheming face on my screen once more, I do not believe for one second he is only going to cause mayhem for TopMew. You may argue SandRay have enough to deal with for now drama wise, Rays journey in rehab, whatever Ray's father asked of Sand, the apartment fight. I will simply say to you my brethren, enough is never enough for JoJo. That beautiful conniving bitch. Love that man.

In the preview we see Boeing is causing issues for Top and Mew. in the words of Taylor it was so nice everyone being friends again. There Mew was giving Top a second chance. buT lo and behold there has been a Boeing a Hoeing around these parts. This was not something Mew was envisioning having to intercept on his merry skip of sweet mercy.

But whatever. Mew is gonna do what Mew gotta do. We need to talk about the Boeing of it all more. He's here and he's ready to stir up chaos. He's diving in balls first baby. Clearly quite happy to be Tops on call emergency fuck service when the insomnia pills just won't do it, this does not surprise me one bit. It makes sense to me he'd compete with Mew for Top. Boeing has always been in some pointless game with himself of becoming Tops priority. Or at least something that Top cannot completely let go of.

What surprises me more is that we aren't seeing more drama for Sand with shitty ex boyfriend of the year back in town right when Sand thinks he can finally be the first choice of someone he has come to love. How is this gonna set him back? After all, Top assured Sand that Boeing and him were long done. If Sand sees them together, it's clearly not the case now. How will he digest that? The mere mention of not being enough for Boeing set Sand off on vengeance is my middle name mode not too long ago. He's never been great at holding Boeing accountable for his part in fucking off with Top and leaving Sand in the dirt.

Because here's the thing. No matter how Sand sees it Boeing was not "stolen", Boeing made a choice. And is seemingly still making that choice, Top to the detriment of his own well being every time without fail. I am so very hopeful that seeing Boeing clinging to Tops scraps of attention again will wake Sand up enough for him to get the closure he needs from his ex being around, leave Boeing fiending after Top and come to the realisation that Boeing would've never been right for him. Never would've put him first the way Ray is at least trying to choose Sand's love right now, choose getting better in rehab even though it'll feel like it nearly fucking kills him for Sand's love.

But on the other hand, with Ray away in a rehab, experiencing relapse and withdrawal and having moments where he switches back to the old cold Ray on his journey to find his best healed self, there leaves room for Sand to feel scared and lonely and doubtful too. Perfect time for someone like Boeing to slink on in and play with those emotions... I just really hope Sand shows us how he's never yielded to anyone like he does for Ray with this messy bitch and doesn't give in to Boeing's flimsiness this time around. I want Sand to get the chance to finally hold Boeing accountable for his part in the downfall of their relationship instead of pinning it all on this rivalry with Top.