#slate microphone

[its-stimsca]

Gifs from Portrait of a Blank Slate by Lovejoy

[heartofwritiing]

We could make such a pretty picture

Paring: musicianbur x photographer!reader

Summary: you are lovejoy’s tour photographer and wilbur likes to tease you.

authors note: this is so rushed and unedited mostly just my stream of consciousness that popped into my head while i finish up the zombur fic! its almost done!!

warnings: fluff, short, flirting, a little suggestive maybe, i use a cringey (?) line idk take it as you will lmao, unedited!

“Make sure you get my good side darling.”

Before every show backstage, Wilbur would always tell you to quote: “get my good side” whatever that meant. It was impossible to get his bad side. Every angle Wilbur Soot always looked ethereal, and that had nothing to do with your photography skills.

You would gaze up at him from the pits, readily pointing your camera to capture any shot of him playing his heart out to the screaming fans behind you. Rightfully so, you couldn’t deny how good he looked up on that stage.

Skin glistened with sweat, hair sticking to his forehead, and the light eyeliner slightly smudged in the corners of his eyes. His lips pulled up in a smirk as he flipped his hair in a certain way when a beat dropped. It was undeniable now, that he was doing this on purpose. He was goddamn attractive and he knew it.

After the show you would always sit in one of the green room chairs, keeping to yourself and letting the excitement of the after-show buzz from the band fill the room. You were scrolling through the photos, admiring your work on a picture of Ash with the lightning just right when you felt a presence creep up behind you.

“That ones quiet good,” Wilbur’s voice made you jump out of your skin, and he laughed at your startled state.

“Thanks,” you replied, returning to scrolling through your pictures but Wilbur stayed right by your shoulder. Sounds of his bandmates laughter filled the space, he couldn’t care to jump into their conversation. Too entranced by your photography. Wilbur had never truly seen your work before. Of course there was pictures the band used for the instagram account, but those were taken by their previous photographer.

You were new, and Wilbur had briefly seen your work before. Only two shows into the tour, you didn’t have the time to sit with the lead singer and exhibit your entire portfolio to hkm. But seeing how you captured his presence on stage so well, with the white strobe light hitting him at just the right angle, caused his interest to be peaked even further. It made him want to get to know you better.

“you know, we make such a pretty picture,” you can hear the deviousness in his voice and the underlying meaning behind his own lyrics he was using towards you. It warms your cheeks and you avoid his eyes that are burning into the side of your face.

You cleared your throat and repositioned yourself in your seat. “whatever you say, its all you up there on that stage,”

The next night, standing once more in the pits, camera ready as the first chords of 'Portrait of a Blank Slate' blasted through the venue speakers, and screams exploded around you. As the color lights switch from dark blue to deep red, Wilbur saunters to the microphone and begins singing the first lyrics.

You lift your camera up to your face and look through the viewfinder to be met with an up-close Wilbur, who is pressing his lips right into the microphone. A smirk pulled the corner of his mouth when he peeked open his eye to catch you pointing your camera at him. Cheeky bastard.

As he sang the next few lyrics, his hands lift up to the top part of his shirt where it was unbuttoned. Running his index finger from from his collar down to his chest, he sang; ‘shes an artist, paints across my chest,’ while sending you a quick wink.

Your mouth parted in utter shock and felt your heart beating in your ears. How does this man do this to you? You hadn’t even known him that long, but he was making you feel dizzy with the slightest little actions. You quickly shook away any thoughts popping into your mind and took a couple more photos of him. The last one was of him leaning back while strumming the next chords, then you moved on to capture more of the other band members. You just had to force yourself away from him before you got carried away.

That same night later on the tour bus, you were going through your photos again. One in particular caught your eye, it was of Wilbur with the red lights behind him casting him in a dark glow, and his guitar lifted into the air while he threw his head back. Infamous rockstar pose, you decide to call it. You chose a couple more to post to your professional instagram account, tagging the band members each in their respective photos.

About an hour later a notification came up on your phone that a mutual had commented on your photo. You checked it and immediately felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the words on your screen.

@/WilburSoot: Told you we make such a pretty picture ;)

taglist: @trashcanduck @merakiwi @addxms @ax-y10 @scenefaez @highstonedcat

if you want to be added or removed from the taglist let me know!

[gallusrostromegalus]

I must ask how my Most Favorite Boys, Jushiro Ukitake and Shinji Hirako, are doing in AEIWAM?

When Shinji returns to his post as Captain of the 5th after his exile, he is DETERMINED to not repeat his past mistakes and actually get to know the shinigami serving under him. He needs... Some kind of event, something people will voluntarily attend, where they'll tell him about themselves, and with a bit of structure because he is an awkward sod, and social interactions need RULES, DAMMIT-

"Now hang on-" says Shinji after staring at the blank office wall in silence for the last thirty minutes. "-that's not a bad idea!"

"...Is he okay?" Lieutenant Momo asks quietly.

"Oh yeah, he's always a little freak. Talks to himself and gets a lot out of the conversation." Also Lieutenant Hiyori nods. "You don't need to worry until he breaks out the craft supplies."

"He just pulled out a bunch of markers and construction paper." Momo pointed to their captain as he scribbled furiously on the paperwork he was ignoring.

"Aw. Fuck." Groaned Hiyori. "Well this is gonna be cringe as hell."

***

A few nights later, most of the fifth division assembled in the auditorium, slightly confused, but they had been promised there would be no additional work from this meeting, and there was an open bar, so they were in figurative and literal high spirits.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Fifth Division, welcome to TONIGHT'S GAME!" A cheerful and showman-like voice called out over the speakers, and the stage curtain rose to reveal a brightly colored game show stage where there had not been one before.

"Tonight's lovely contestants are- all the way from payroll, it's Fifth Division Tenth Seat Tenya Danshin!" The voice called out as the familiar face of their payroll and scheduling manager trotted out onstage and took his place behind the first of three podiums. There was some scattered and genuine, if confused applause from the audience.

"He's Big, he's Bad, he's just a little Bizarre, he's Josuke Araki!" The voice continued as a notably tall and muscular member took his place behind the middle podium with a wave and broad grin. There was more clapping and a few cheers this time.

"Currently being dragged onstage by my lovely assistant, it's my second favorite Lieutenant, Hiyori Sarugaki!" The voice continued as Hiyori was wrestled onstage and behind the third podium by Momo. The audience whooped and snickered at the spectacle.

"FUCK YOU, YOU FREAK!" Hiyori roared, flipping off the audience and the figure behind the final podium on the other side of the stage.

"I'm your host, ME! I've been here the whole time!" Grinned Shinji, dressed in a rather snappy three piece suit and holding a microphone. "WELCOME, all my lovely division members and Hiyori, to Tonight's Game! Now, you all know how to play, right?"

"Um. No. Sorry sir." Muttered Tenya as Josuke shook his head.

"You didn't tell us shit!" Hiyori growled.

"That's RIGHT!" Shinji's Cheshire Cat smile shined under the spotlights.

"You see, I wanted to get to know everyone in the 5th a little better, and there is nothing quite like a game show to get people to reveal some truly startling sides of themselves, but playing the same game over and over would be boring! So, every night we play Tonight's Game, the game is a different game than last time, and the contestants will all start with blank slates!" He explained, entirely too pleased with himself. "So- the only way to win is by learning, the only way to learn is by playing, and the only way to begin is by beginning, so without further ado- Momo, will you please bring out THE LIE DETECTOR."

The small curtains at the back of the stage opened, and Momo rolled out a cart with a strange device covered in dials and switches with a long antenna and a large lightbulb on top.

"Thank you Momo! Now, the clever bastards in the 12th whipped this up for me so I have absolutely no idea how it actually works, but I am assured this is the latest cutting-edge in Veracity Technology. Let's turn it on and try it out! Tenya-!"

"Yes, sir!" Tenya snapped to attention. "No need to be formal, I'm only your host, not your captain right now." Shinji waved. "Tell me Tenya- Do you have any children?"

"I- Um, my wife and I have three children, two little boys and our infant daughter?" He stammered, confused.

DING! The Device charmed, light bulb lighting up bright green.

"That is CORRECT!" Shinji grinned. "You get a point!"

There was another chime as the screen on the front of Tenya's Podium lit up and displayed a "1".

"Oh, I see!" Laughed Tenya.

"Josuke!" called Shinji.

"Capt- Host?" Josuke stopped mid-salute.

"Very good! Tell me Josuke, do you live in the barracks?" Shinji asked with genuine interest.

"Uh, no. I live with my Mom." Josuke shook his head.

DING! Said the device.

"That is Correct!" Shinji nodded approvingly. "You get a point as well!"

"Oh, so, every time we tell the truth, we get a point?" Asked Josuke.

"Very quick on the uptake my friend!" Shinji winked. "Of course, as the game goes on, the questions are going to get much harder to answer Truthfully..."

Oooooooh! Gasped the audience, invested now.

"What happens if we lie?" Wondered Tenya.

"Even if we did- how would he fucking know?" Hiyori rolled her eyes.

"You can try it and find out!" Shinji grinned with more than a hint of Menace. "Hiyori! It's your turn!"

"Ugh. What?" She groaned.

"Tell me, When is my birthday?" Asked Shinji.

"I don't know and I don't care." She smirked, sticking her tongue out at him.

BZZRK! The Device buzzed angrily, and the light flashed red. OHH! laughed the audience.

"What the FUCK?" Yelped Hiyori.

"Ooh!" Shinji winced, thoroughly enjoying himself. "I'm afraid that is INCORRECT! According to the screen back here, you spent the better part of THREE MONTHS tracking down a specific part to repair my sound system and traveled halfway across the planet to deliver it personally to me on my birthday. So not only do you know, you DO care, and for that I'm afraid I'm going to have to dock you two points."

Hiyori's screen lit up and displayed a "-2"

"WHAT THE HELL?" Hiyori wailed. "You didn't even see me when I gave you that Banana Plug or whatever-!"

"I did not!" Shinji grinned. "-but The Device knows, and is infallible!" "That's terrifying!" Tenya laughed nervously. "Alright contestants, the questions are going to get harder now, so consider your answers to them carefully." Shinji warned, a finger up to his lips. "Contestants- does any of your underwear have holes in it?"

"...Can we refuse to answer on the grounds it might get us in trouble?" asked Josuke.

"Yes! But you won't get any points for that round, and you may not win our Lovely Prize this week. Speaking of- Momo! Will you please show our contestants what they're playing for this week?"

Momo emerged from backstage with a large, blank sign, which she turned over and held over her head for all to see.

AN EXTRA WEEK OF PAID VACATION

OHHH! exclaimed the audience, with a few audible mutters of Damn, a whole week? and How do you get on this show?.

"ALL MY UNDERWEAR HAS GOT HOLES IN IT!" Shouted Josuke, now with heavily-motivated enthusiasm. Laughter exploded out of the audience, thoroughly entertained.

DING! chimed the device, and the score on Josuke's podium went up.

"Josuke taking an early and shameless lead!" Beamed Shinji, delighted that his plan was working. "Tenya?"

"I-ah, I don't think so?" Tenya blushed. "I bathe the kids and get them ready for bed while my wife does the laundry." He tried to explain.

BZZRK! The Device contested, red light flashing and the audience howled with laughter.

"Uh-oh, that's Not Correct!" Grinned Shinji. "According to the device, a significant amount of your clothes have holes in them, and you don't notice because you get dressed in the dark. You didn't outright lie though, so you will only not get a point instead of a deduction."

"WHAT?" Yelped Hiyori, outraged.

"Yeah, that's fair." Tenya winced. "Seriously though- where does this thing get it's information from?"

"...Hiyori?" Shinji leered playfully at his lieutenant.

"Yeah, it's all got holes. They come that way- Two for my legs and one for my torso." Hiyori snarled.

DING! agreed The Device.

"That is *technically* correct, which is the BEST kind of correct! You get a point!" Shinji cheered, and so did the audience.

"FINALLY!" She shouted, but her eyes narrowed with competitive enthusiasm.

---

The game continued for an hour, with a mix of group and solo questions, but equal chances to score points awarded to all contestants. Josuke was shameless but ill-informed, causing him to fail several rounds, Tenya was honest even as his face flushed red and he crumpled behind his Podium. Hiyori did her best to be only as honest as she had to be, and as the game continued, they came to a three-way tie.

"Before we begin the final round-" Shinji said, intoning a gentle sincerity. "Contestants, you've been so honest with me. Like. Alarmingly Honest with me. So I need to be honest with you- I do know how The Lie Detector works."

There was a scandalized gasp from all three contestants and the audience.

"Okay- I *sort of* know how The Device works." Shinji admitted. "I don't know what 'Wiffy' is-"

"YOU MEAN THE FUCKING WI-FI?" Howled Hiyori.

"Oh, like you know how it works!" Shinji glared.

"It's using a radio frequency to transmit Data instead of an electrical pulses like internet usually does." She scoffed. "-AND I KNOW HOW TO PRONOUNCE IT!"

Shinji glared. "...I should deduct a point from you for insubordination."

"You can't do that, you're the Host, not the Captain!" Said Josuke cheerfully.

"Yeah, unless Host is a Military rank, it's arguing, not insubordination."

DING! Agreed The Device.

"DON'T GANG UP ON ME!" Shinji wailed. "Fine, fine. Anyway, I might not know how Why-Figh works, but I *DO* know how the device knows if you're lying or not. Would my Lovely Assistants please come to the stage?"

Momo emerged from backstage, wearing a labcoat and holding another device with an antenna that matched the Lie Detector, followed by a middle aged woman holding a Baby, an older woman, and Mashiro Kuna.

"Akkiko?" Tenya yelped, and his wife laughed manically.

"MOM??" Wailed Josuke.

"MASHIRO??" Hiyori bellowed, jumping up onto her Podium. "YOU SOLD ME OUT?!"

"FOR A BAG OF CORN CHIPS!" Mashiro cackled.

"YOU DIDN'T EVEN PAY HER?!" Hiyori howled at Shinji.

"She was gonna do it for free! I talked her UP to a bag of corn chips!" Shinji protested. "But YES! You've all been deceived! Hoodwinked!Bamboozled, even! Which brings us to our Final Question!"

The crowd roared with excitement.

"I started this game because I wanted to get to know everyone better- but I have to ask, how well do YOU know each other, and so I must ask you all if you know these people as well as they know you?"

There was a loud OOOH! of intrigue from the audience.

"Just to make it extra-exciting, all of these questions will be worth up to three points!" Shinji grinned, then slowly turned to the first Podium. "Tenya."

"Oh god." Tenya laughed nervously.

"Your lovely wife. You've been married for ten year now, so you theoretically know what she looks like, right?" Shinji teased. "So, for a potential three points and week of paid vacation- Do you know what color Akkiko's eyes are?"

Akkiko giggled, turning around as Tenya leaned as far forward on his Podium and squinted at her. With a deep sigh, he slumped over the podium in defeat.

"...I do not." He groaned and Akkiko cackled.

"That is CORRECT!" Shinji cheered.

"I'm not good with colors." Tenya tried to explain. "-this morning I actually asked her what color MY eyes are."

"YES! That's what I was waiting to hear!" Shinji shouted, pumping his fist in the air. "All three points!"

The audience cheered loudly.

Shinji turned to the next contestant. "Josuke."

"Oh no." Josuke giggled.

"What is your mother's favorite food?" Shinji asked.

Josuke stared blankly.

"SURELY you are not living in your mother's house and NOT COOKING FOR HER, are you?" Shinji asked with no small amount of menace.

"You're never going to get married if you can't cook!" Tenya nodded in agreement.

"I COOK!" Josuke protested. "...sometimes." he added, cringing.

"-So. What do you make for your beloved mother, who works so hard taking care of her adult son?" Shinji teased.

"LOTSA STUFF THAT'S WHY I DON'T KNOW!" Josuke wailed. "I COOK KATSUDON, I COOK RAMEN, I COOK CURRY, I COOK OMURICE- I EVEN LEARNED HOW TO COOK WESTERN FOODS LIKE LASAGNA AND CHILLI CHEESE DOG-! DING! Went the device, Josuke's mother holding the radio.

"Was your favorite in there Mrs. Akari?"

"Yes! I like Chili Cheese Dog." She smiled. "I always eat seconds!"

"YOU ALWAYS EAT SECONDS OF EVERYTHING I COOK I DON'T KNOW WHICH ONE YOU LIKE THE MOST!" Josuke wailed.

"That is also true! He is a very good cook! And single!" She nodded up at Shinji.

"-And he's single!" Shinji grinned at the audience, some of whom whistled back. "Three points, for your culinary skills! Which means we have a Tie!"

The audience tittered with speculation and excitement.

"...Hiyori." Shinji grinned.

"You're a dead man as soon as you sign off on my vacation time." She glared.

"I mean, I can end the game right now." Shinji wagged his finger at her. "-But I can't resist the opportunity to humliate you. Now, You and Mashiro have been living under the same roof for longer than Josuke and Tenya have been alive, so to be fair to them, I'll ask you about someone you've met more recently but should still know pretty well-"

Hiyori squinted at him.

"-What is Momo's Favorite Animal?"

"What?" Hiyori laughed. "-Everyone knows it's Penguins!"

"Really?" asked Josuke. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah, I didn't know that either and I've served under her for decades now!" Said Tenya.

"What? How do you guys NOT know that?" Demanded Hiyori. "Her phone background is a Rockhopper Penguin, she's got a Fairy penguin squeeze toy in her desk for really long phone calls and she's always talking about wanting to go to the Tokyo aquarium in the living world to see them in person! She's even got a HUGE collection of penguin plushies in her r-" DINGDINGDINGDINGSING!! rang the Machine as Momo furiously pressed the button, face red as a beet.

"Wow!" Shinji smiled. "I'm surprised! You seem to know Miss Hinamori really well!"

"Uh, duh? We're colleagues." Hiyori rolled her eyes.

Momo sighed with relief.

"Interesting! Follow-up question- What's Mashiro's surname?" Shinji asked.

Hiyori blinked. "...uhhhhhhhh..."

"You heard Kensei yell it at least six times a day for the last century you jackass!" Laughed Mashiro.

"UHHHHH..." Hiyori paled, and the audience roared with laughter.

"Hmm... I seem to remember you pretending you didn't care about my birthday, and yet, you do- For you to remember her favorite animal and in such detail, Momo must be VERY IMPORTANT to you!"

The audience giggled Momo turned scarlet again and slowly crumpled into a ball. Mashiro vibrated with excitement beside her.

"Yeah?" Hiyori glared at Shinji. "She's the smartest person in the whole damn division and does half your job for you? If I win, I'm giving the week off to her just to watch you flail around without her! No wait- I'll set up the webcam and we can split the week off, go to the aquarium AND watch Shinji squirm like a worm an a-! Uh? Momo? You okay there?" She asked, finally noticing Momo laying on the floor, borderline catatonic with embarrassment.

"This is FASCINATNG!" Shinji grinned. "You are apparently so immune to embarrassment that you have somehow made it bounce off you and target Momo!"

"What's to be embarrassed about? I like her okay?" Hiyori blinked. "She's great! I wanna work with her forever!"

Shinji leaned forward on his elbows, chin in his hands and stared at Hiyori, positively vibrating with excitement.

"What?" She glared.

"You are. SO CLOSE. To comprehending something." He said, wide-eyed and delighted. "It's fascinating to see someone on the precipice like this."

Hiyori stared blankly at him. clueless.

"So you like Momo. We've established that." Shinji said, attempting to throw her a bone. "H- how do you think Momo feels about you?" Hiyori slowly lowered her gaze to Momo. The entire audience watched in hushed fascination as Hiyori frowned at the situation, thinking hard-

"...Momo?" Hiyori's voice was suddenly nervous. "Do you- have I just been annoying you? Becuase I can stop-"

Momo Hinamori was abruptly on her feet, crouched atop the Podium, fists balled in the front of Hiyori's shushako, pulling the blonde's face up so it was mere inches from hers. "HIYORI SARUGAKI YOU ARE THE MOST INFURIATING WOMAN IN THE UNIVERSE!"

"Fuck!" Hiyori yelped. "I'm really sorry, I'll- I'll leave you alo-"

"I'LL TELL YOU WHAT YOU'RE GOING TO DO, MISSY!" Momo continued, grabbing Hiyori's face. "YOU'RE WINNING THIS GAME, YOU'RE SPLITTING THE WEEK OFF WITH ME, YOU ARE GETTING A HOTEL IN THE LIVING WORLD AND THEN *I* AM GOING TO-'

In the videotape of the game that mysteriously appeared in the ninth division later that week, the next forty-seven seconds of sound had been obscured by a single, loud, continuous "BLEEEEEEEEEEEEP!" sound, but Mashiro was visibly looking up some of the terms being shouted on her phone, Josuke's mother sprinted up to cover her son's ears to no avail, Akkiko was pointing between herself and Tenya with excitement, and Shinji's jaw fell so far open it looked like it had become unhinged from his skull.

"-AND IF EITHER OF US CAN WALK IN THE MORNING, THEN WE'RE GONNA GO SEE SOME PENGUINS!" Momo finished, staring Hiyori down with a terrifying blend of romantic fury and bloodthirsty lust.

Hiyori stared up, wide-eyed and expressionless, face clearly offline as she underwent several psychological and spiritual awakenings before her she slowly broke into a slow, stupefied grin "Oh you like-like me!"

"...Yes." Momo sighed, deeply pained and affectionate at once as the audience howled. "You're okay with... all that?"

Hiyori saluted Momo with an enthusiastic "-Yes, SIR!"

"NOW THAT'S WHAT I'M FUCKING TALKIN' ABOUT!" Shinji whooped with joy, jumping up and down, the audience on their feet with applause. "POINTS AND VACATIONS ALL AROUND, AND FOR BEING THE *MOST* HONEST, THE WINNER OF TONIGHT'S GAME IS MOMO HINAMORI!"

The audience cheered wildly as Momo scooped Hiyori up like a princess and carried her backstage.

"THAT'S IT FOR TONIGHT'S GAME!" called Shinji over the din. "GOODNIGHT EVERYONE, AND GOOD FUCKING LUCK!"

---

As for Jushiro Ukitake, he appears on a special guest episode of Tonight's Game with fellow Captains Soi Fon, Byakuya Kuchiki and Retsu Unohana to play "Never Have I Ever" and *that* episode is widely considered to be one of the most scandalous and unhinged of all the games on Tonight's Game.

[inmyheadimobsessed]

I Don't Play Nice

pairing: riri ✘ black!fem!reader

summary: don't fuck fans. this was your rule. unfortunately though, the development of this rule came only after you'd done just that. and now, you cannot seem to outrun your mistake.

word count: longg <3

contains: singer!reader, obsessed!fan!riri, mean!reader, semi mean!riri, possessive!riri, jealous!riri, ooc riri, tbh riri herself is a warning, toxic dynamics, some darkish themes?, mentions of stalking, smut (18+), dom!reader, sub!riri, bratty!riri, riri is mouthy & very unhinged, oral, choking, knife play (riri loves her knife), light nipple play, mentions of blood, car sex, public sex?, strap!reader, fingering (riri receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dirty talk, spanking, crying, biting, pain!kink, masturbation, strap sucking (barely), use of drugs (pills), rough sex

tags: @verachii @venusdraco @quintessencewrites @cjariot @widowmakker @blackgcomica @n7cje @dejaonline @shinsousliya @generallysapphic @mbakuetshurisprincess @pinkwright @saintwrld @axailslink @mocha-aya @uhwhatsay @6-noir @cuddl3s4shur1 @chidinma @shuriszn @lppriceisright @sweetalittleselfish-honey @abenomeiiii @marsolgy @prettymrswright @shurisjournal @marsolgy @shurismainbxtch @shurisbbymama @shuriri4life @cafehyunji @yunhofingers @yamsthoughts @iseebeautyinwords @ihearttish @vampzxi @sapphicvqmpires

divider by: @firefly-graphics

note: uhhhh, just stay with me, walk with me!!! see it the way i’m seeing it first!!! the car scene/smut is heavily inspired by ohmami by chase atlantic & maggie lindemann, i've had that song on repeat for weeks just sitting in my ideas. i would suggest listening to it to understand some of the references lol. other songs that inspired this fic: misunderstood - kodie shane, don't fight it - kodie shane, f&mu - kehlani, triggered - chase atlantic, off my head - kodie shane and then ohmami last. also this is dedicated to that anon who was screaming in my askbox for sub!riri for like a month, i saw you fren. i had too much fun writing this even though it killed my brain, i didn't even think i was gon post it fr. but anywhoo, hope y'all enjoy! mwah, mwah!!

Bright neon lights illuminated the stage, your crimson-hued silhouette resembling that of a deity from where you stood, bathing in the crowd’s continuous chant of your name. There were distinguishable cracks in the voices rushing you, throats more than likely sore from the ear-piercing screams bellowing out of them, yet still, they endured, glazed eyes stalking you in sheer adoration. Your audience clung to your every lyric, your every move down to the bounce of your sweaty curls as you pranced around the stage.

You were in your element, entrancing their minds with a power you had yet to grow used to.

In your chest, your heart gained life, its thump a deafening pound resounding in your ears; if the beating were any louder, the microphone clasped in your fist would surely pick it up. But it was yours to hear, just like the sensation of your stomach in your throat was yours to feel — the absence of your mind yours to know.

Calling your love for performing an addiction would be an understatement. You were your most authentic self on stage, every surge of adrenaline dosing the high you were jonesing for. Your confidence blossomed, not as a mirage, but as the most corporeal entity your body could conjure up, differing greatly from your branded media persona of an arrogant, entitled, asshole.

These were titles intended to condemn following the very messy breakup with your now ex-girlfriend, renowned actress Syla Slate. Gorgeous, talented, beloved by all of America; she was their sweetheart, so naturally, she won the public’s favor in the split. But your resilience had been a thing miscounted, and woefully so; you wore your scarlet letters with honor, refusing to clear up rumors surrounding your infidelity.

If there were words to be said, feelings to unpack, you would express them on the stage before the thousands of people holding your word as bond, which happened to be the exact thing you did now.

“London!” You commanded the audience with outstretched arms, your very presence eliciting a thunderous uproar. “I ain't think y'all could get any louder.”

The drove of onlookers read your disbelief as a challenge, shouts climbing the arena walls as the sharp octave punctured your eardrums.

You popped out your in-ears, unable to halt the slow smile stretching across your features. You were proud, proud that they risked the health of their voices just to hear yours. “Well alright, I guess y’all could get louder.”

They chuckled as a collective, making you follow suit, “I got one more song for you lot. That's what y’all be saying over here, right? You lot? Shidd, my southern ass wouldn't know,” They laughed again at your terrible rendition of a British accent. “Anyway, like I was saying, I got one more song, y’all cool with that?”

Just as you expected, shriek after shriek bled into one another, melding to create a boisterous sound that expanded around the O2 Arena, and you let your smile broaden as you secured your microphone back into its stand. “Ooh, y’all sound excited!”

The slowed tempo of your closing track began its waft, filling the speakers, the ears of your admirers, and your system all at once. They recognized the beat within seconds, the bass now competing with their cries.

A little bit of that arrogance you chose not to refute came peeking through as you adjusted your mic stand, “Oh y'all know this one, huh?” And they yelled again, satisfying you.

You shut your eyes, expiring a shaky breath into the grille of the mic in preparation, allowing the music to seize hold of you. Your digits trembled around the mouthpiece, and your rings scraped the surface.

Complicated, I shouldn't ever have to feel this way.

Instinctively, the lyrics vacated your mouth, and instinctively, your sockets began to well. You fought the tears, keeping your lids tight in protest of the tumble they threatened.

But, every time I try to up and walk away,

You come around and start to love me, love me better.

Your emotions and your wet eyes were both the epitome of irony. How many shows had you closed with this very song? Why were the waterworks threatening to spill now?

Complicated, I shouldn't ever have to feel this way

Perhaps they were due to the truth stewing inside you. Tonight wasn't just the last show of your tour, it would be your last live performance for a while. You would be leaving your heart on this stage tonight. A difficult decision made, but a necessary one nonetheless. Perhaps this was your body attempting to accept this fact.

Every time I try to up and walk away,

You make a promise that you'll love me, love me better

Love me, love me better

After a moment, your eyes fluttered open and the tears swelling your orbs rained down, fogging your vision. You loosened your strangle on the mic, only now realizing how tight you held to it. As you gazed at the sea of bodies, you noted their red eyes and damp cheeks. They were screaming your song back at you, your lyrics dragging through the air.

It wasn't uncommon to witness your fans crying at your shows; your music overwhelmed them; their connection to you overwhelmed them, and the vulnerability birthed from this emotional exchange overwhelmed you.

I think I'd rather just be misunderstood,

Found out your love ain't no good.

You took in the masses, scanning their dazed smiles as you continued to sing, and that's when you saw her.

Through the mist in your eyes, she emerged out of nothingness. Clad in lace, sporting that devilish smirk that curdled your blood, wearing those dark irises brewed to the brim with mischief. You could always pick her out in any crowd, which looking back, had been the commencement of your own undoing.

Had me at hello, got me with a kiss, left me in abyss.

She swayed to the music, mouthing the words with those dangerous fucking lips. Lips that could ruin your life with a single utterance, lips that did ruin your life, your relationship.

When you finally let your eyes meet, she bared her white teeth, taunting you in that way she often did. You were seething and she knew it, her swift little wink a testament to her knowledge.

You should turn away, rip your gaze from hers, focus on the tear-stained faces in the audience. You should ignore the abrupt shift in your heart’s thump, how it rattled in rage now at an uncomfortable rate. You shouldn't allow her to get to you just by simply existing.

Don’t want my heart cold, so I took it off of my neck and my wrist.

But, in an arena sculpted to house twenty thousand, a lone Riri Williams faded your performance high just by being.

God she was maddening, and inescapable it seemed, no matter the continent you ventured to. To the rest of the world, it'd look like you were serenading her in a bubble where just the two of you existed, but you both knew better. Your anger was palpable to her alone, something she counted on; you’d played this game of hers long enough to hone certain skills, like how to bury your building fury. Your muscles tensed, your knees locked in place as you returned to choking the mic yet again, sizzling under your elevating temperature.

You sang through your irritation though, spitting your venomous lyrics directly in her face as she watched, amused. She wouldn't ruin this parting performance for you.

Found out it was mostly lust but not love.

You kept your eyes on her for the duration of the song, earning jealous stares from the other girls rallying around her, their own hopes of soliciting your gaze made obvious. They were shoving, and yelling, yanking the barricade aggressively, yet still, all your focus lay on Riri. It's what she hoped for, to ensure chaos, to make it obvious she did not need to vie for your attention, she just… simply had it.

You were strengthening her pride, the last thing you sought to do, but looking away from her proved to be impossible.

Complicated, I shouldn't ever have to feel this way.

But, every time I try to up and walk away,

You come around and start to love me, love me better,

Love me, love me better…

Confetti raining from the heavens emulated her skin's shine, golden and distracting, the showers causing you to rip your stare away from her briefly. When the dust settled, she’d vanished, disappearing like she'd never existed, and you couldn't help but chuckle to yourself with a head shake.

“London, thank you, I love you. I’m gonna miss you!”

With that, the lights dimmed, giving you time to evacuate the stage swiftly and stealthily. Off you went, mind still muddled with the smugness she wore on her features as she gawked at you with feral eyes.

Riri being in town meant trouble, and you wanted no fucking part in whatever she had planned.

•••

After leaving the venue your entire body felt numb and fatigued, so you instructed your driver to take you straight back to your hotel. Typically, your routine concluding a performance would involve saying hello to fans who stayed behind after the show, you'd done it countless times, but not tonight. With Riri on the loose, you couldn't chance running into her anywhere, not in your current state of exhaustion. If she was to meet you this way, you were ashamed to admit that it would take zero effort on her part to coax you into doing whatever she wished.

You weren't too tired to be furious though, allowing the emotion to take precedence over your shame; you intended to use said fury to venture as far away from Riri Williams' deranged ass as you could manage.

The length of your silent car ride was spent with your head propped on the cool window, pondering her being in London. You didn't have to question her why; Riri fought valiantly to be wherever you were, but her how, that remained somewhat of a mystery.

How was it plausible for her to be in Europe right now? Her finals should be consuming the majority of her time, clashing with the schedule for the last leg of your tour. You knew this because you planned this.

For the first fifteen stops, there were no tour buses broken into, no dressing room locks tampered with, your shows remained uninterrupted, and you hadn't had to suffer through your usual internal battle when facing off with your biggest weakness. All was fine until tonight, your final concert.

How convenient, you thought, though you supposed her powers should in no way surprise you anymore. You knew the things Riri was capable of, experienced the fate of her actions.

Which was why you decided a quiet night in your hotel would be your chosen way of decompressing. When you pulled up to where you were staying, you shot your manager a text informing her you would not be attending the after-party thrown in your honor. Parties meant paparazzi and their intrusive questions about your relationship, or rather, the lack thereof. But most annoyingly, parties meant Riri, and her covert ways of always weaseling past security at events she presumed you to be at.

And you would pass on dealing with either scenario tonight.

The elevator chimed, doors sliding open on your floor and you stepped out, trotting swiftly toward your suite with a hot shower in mind, one that would rinse away your stressors.

Upon unlocking the door though, there was an immediate sense of something being off, the instinct an acquired habit after your colossal mistake of intertwining your life with Riri's. Every day since you'd been made to look over your shoulder. You stalked deeper into your room, eyes trailing to your rumpled white comforter pulled back as though someone had lain in your sheets.

Before you left that morning, you'd made your bed, another acquired habit, this one drilled into you by your grandmother growing up, and one you practiced diligently when sleeping in threads that weren't your own.

So naturally, with the sight laid out before you, your mind ran straight to the only person you knew could be responsible. The pillow on the right side of the bed was dented, and one of your silk button-ups from a previous concert sat in a pool on the carpet. You bent over to pick it up, pulling it to your nose for a deep inhale to find that you were indeed correct; the intoxicating aroma of Riri's perfume misted the fabric, forcing an unintentional smirk to crack across your lips. You battled against its appearance and lost, as usual.

She was here, in your room, in your bed, wearing your clothes. And recently too, her floral scent still lingering on your linens serving as proof. Your eyes rolled on command, but you decided to ignore the knowledge you'd just gained, mind still set on that well-earned shower. You figured you could still get to it, if Riri had still been around, her presence would've been made known the moment you stepped through the threshold.

Her absence indicated one thing though; she wanted you to come find her, but you wouldn't play into her hand. You were far too tired, and far too over her games.

You began a leisure strip, stepping out of your leather pants and dressing down to your undergarments before making your way to the bathroom. You stopped short when your toes met the tiled floor, gawking at the scene awaiting your attention.

Scarlet petals floated atop long departed waters, blanketing the bath that had now run cold. They were scattered across the floor as well, and the lasting whiff of outed lavender candles filled the air. A discarded bra hung off the side of the tub, matching panties too, and you sighed, stepping on the torn roses as you walked further into the bathroom. She sure knew how to make herself at home.

When you stood before the sink, your eyes dropped instantly to the counter, glued to the promiscuous polaroids littered across it.

Every last one of Riri, every last one taken in your bed. Your shirt draped her body in some, the golden shade making her skin pop beneath the material, mimicking the confetti from earlier. But she was fully naked in most, bare breasts and nipple jewelry exposed with her perfectly manicured fingers playing in her pretty cunt. You picked them up one by one, examining the images further.

The angles were impressive, you couldn't lie, and you appreciated her effort. Like her position in the picture your thumb grazed now; Riri was bent over, ass high in the air, her dripping folds glistening in the perfect shot.

The more time spent gaping at the photos, the stickier your underwear became, clinging to your own saturated cunt. Riri's effect on you wasn't some unknown thing, you were aware of it, she was damn sure aware of it, and these polaroids displayed below you were her version of a reminder, but you chose to stare anyway, reveling in the building throb at your center.

In the final one, her locs cloaked her shoulders, slightly shielding her nipples from your view. But your focus did not lie there, instead, the hefty-looking purple toy rammed into her tight hole stole your attention. It stretched her wide, the pleasure causing her head to sling backward, and those pretty lips to part, forming the most pitiful little 'o' you'd ever seen.

It was this shot that compelled your hand's betrayal, your shower partially forgotten as you slipped your digits beneath the waistband of your panties. One stroke of your swelling clit had your throat craning, imitating Riri's in the photo, a rugged moan slipping free as you splashed around in your wetness, eyes fluttering in response to the sensation.

Before you could really delve into pleasuring yourself though, you glanced at the mirror, reading the words written on it, words you'd somehow missed upon entry.

You rolled your eyes and freed your damp hands from your pussy, arousal on a mission to flee your body. It was replaced instead, by your previous rush of agitation as you reread her cheeky message.

“Did you miss me?” Scribbled across the glass in ruby-red lipstick, the question enclosed in her literal kisses.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

•••

In an interesting twist of events, you'd found yourself in the hotel bar nursing a rum and coke with your thumb looming over a poorly typed text message, those photos still weighing heavy on your head.

Under steaming streams meant to wash her likeness away, your pussy had a vastly different idea in mind, wrangling your fingers in on the plan against your will as you fucked yourself to the thought of her. You came harder than you had in weeks, though the orgasm did nothing to relax your spinning mind.

That's what the alcohol was for, or, what it was supposed to be for anyway.

You’d wandered downstairs in disgrace, desperately needing to drink your actions away. But rather than the escape you chased after, you were met with only more shame at the bottom of your glass. It was your single drink that prompted the idea of texting Syla. A risky move, and a cliché at that, texting your ex the second a drop of liquor kissed your lips. But, you’d done worse things, quite literally moments before drafting the unsent message you still stared at.

You supposed it was the guilt of your shower excursions truly driving your choice. She deserved an explanation for everything, a proper one, and providing that hadn't been an accessible opportunity over the past few months. She was busy on set, and you were on tour, battling the everlasting presence of the demon at fault for your parting.

Riri Williams.

You'd met her a year and a half ago, when your career was on the climb, and the line of girls willing to do whatever you wanted on the promise of a good fuck and a shot at being your next video vixen was unending. You never delivered on the latter part of that promise, but after experiencing the former, they hadn't the capability to mind much.

It was a routine you developed, sleeping with girls after every show, slutting them out, then sending them on their merry ways immediately after. So when the girl with full lips and sinful eyes caught your attention in a Chicago crowd, you knew immediately she was to be your next conquest.

She was alluring, unsettlingly so as she bopped to your singing with a smirk hanging off her blood-red lips. Danger lurked beneath that smirk, lying wait, and you took notice. It should've been your first sign to steer clear of the menacing beauty, but, you were stubborn by nature, and evidently your own worst enemy. So you stooped on the stage, extended your hand to meet hers, laced your fingers together, and sent the audience into a frenzy when you dedicated your celebratory ode to the soul foretold to doom your life.

Riri was the first of your plethora of playthings able to keep up with your stamina. She was fucking feral, and insatiable, hell-bent on riding your strap off of its harness. You weren't ashamed at the time to admit she was the best you’d ever had, and that was only after one night together.

You hadn't even questioned her appearances at multiple gigs and events afterward; you were way too gone off the sex to notice the sprouting problem. Much like performing, you were developing an addiction to her, and the heat between her thighs. Submerging your tongue deep within her wet walls provided the same jolt of adrenaline you received from being on stage, if not more. Bending her over to demolish her from the back got you higher than the chants from thousands of fans ever would.

When you finally did come up for air long enough to acknowledge your predicament, it had been far too late. You began to pull away, wanting to wean yourself off of the drug that was Riri. But she wasn't going for that.

Where you tried dousing your addiction into a dwindling flame, Riri's obsession flourished like a forest fire.

Denying her access to yourself was possibly the worst decision you could have ever made. It didn't stop her from finding your studio, damaging your car engine and conveniently being nearby to help fix it, she even went as far as getting jobs at the venues you played just so she could see you, only to quit directly after your set.

Her ways of maneuvering were mind-boggling, frustrating you to your very core because no matter the effort you poured into it, leaving Riri alone was a task you found to be formidable. She'd show up, and you'd give in. Every. Single. Time.

All of that came to a crashing halt when she obtained your home address, deciding to break in as some grand romantic gesture to “win you back.” You didn't read it that way, obviously, and you branded her a lunatic who had no part in your life. You fucked her like she was nothing and sent her packing, threatening a restraining order if she didn't leave you alone from then on.

Dating Syla forced you to make good on that threat. Your relationship was fairly new at the time, but you liked her enough to want to keep Riri miles and miles away from her. You were at a place of contentment in your career, the need to collect a harem of women washed from your system after the nightmare of your last encounter, and peace seemed like an obtainable thing, or at least some semblance of it, with Riri gone for good.

It's what she allowed you to believe anyway, until she'd apparently had enough of watching you be happy with a woman who wasn't her.

You'd received a text composed of the same words signed across the mirror upstairs.

Did you miss me?

And it wasn't much longer before Syla was on the line, screaming obscenities at you through the phone.

“Lying bitch.”

“Cheating ass hoe.”

“Fucking slut.”

“We're Done.”

She hung up without letting you get a word of defense in, leaving you more so angry than heartbroken. Because it was undeniable that the cause of Syla's unrest and the text on your screen somehow coincided. A truth confirmed when your phone started dinging off the hook.

Riri liked to take flicks.

“To commemorate the moment.” She'd say, and it had already been discovered that telling her no wasn't a thing you could do, so you always let her pull the camera out, far too turned on by the idea of your own personal collection of home movies with Riri in your phone.

In hindsight, you should've guessed they'd come back to bite you in the ass eventually, despite Riri's accomplished skill to manipulate. How she'd managed to convince you the tapes existed in your phone alone was embarrassingly beyond you.

Because there they all were, coming through one by one as you sat on the edge of your bed, dumbfounded.

Syla had forwarded every piece of incriminating evidence that backed up her accusations to you. There were dozens of photos, dozens of videos, all of you and Riri over the year she spent in and out of your sheets. None of them recent, but that ceased to matter. Your girlfriend had seen images of your strap down Riri's throat, watched videos of her back arching impressively for you. And your words; her ears were exposed to the vulgar phrases you hissed as you fucked Riri senseless, phrases you'd never once mouthed to her in the bedroom.

Which was why your conscience scolded you so, because the hurt dampening her words that day was unmistakable for anything else. Yet, you ignored that fact in the shower, huffing Riri's name as you permitted a climax brought on by her image to rattle your bones.

You sighed, finally hitting send on the message just as the bartender approached you, “Oof, you look like you could use another one of those. My shift ends soon, but I could make you another if you'd like.”

Her name tag read Esperanza. Pretty, you thought, a pretty name for a pretty girl. Almost pretty enough to tempt a yes out of you, “Could you ask me again, preferably in an accent that isn't as attractive as yours so I can say no? Because I really, really wanna say no.”

She laughed when you groaned in frustration, rewarding you with a blinding smile that unexpectedly heated your cheeks, “I mean I could, my Swedish accent is pretty terrible, that might work. But I won't, seeing as it's in the job description to seduce guests into buying more alcohol with my voice.”

“Is it?” You questioned with a small smirk.

“Yeah. Especially the pretty American ones like yourself.”

You opened your mouth, fully prepared to retort with something equally as flirtatious, but then your phone buzzed in your palm, capturing your attention as your eyes fell to the device in hopes of seeing Syla's name lighting the screen, only to be met with disappointment.

You wanna fuck that bitch or something?

The number unknown, but the sender was far from.

“Would you excuse me?” You spoke finally and Esperanza nodded, returning to her business of cleaning the counter down.

You stood up from the stool with darting eyes, scanning the bar for any signs of her presence but to no avail. When your phone rang, you answered it without a second thought.

“Where are you?”

Soon, Riri’s permanently teasing voice chimed in your ears, “Hi baby, you miss me?”

She giggled, and you imagined her somewhere twirling her hair around her finger, smiling innocently to herself.

You huffed into the mic, already beyond irritated with her antics, “Riri, where are you?”

“Ugh, baby, why you always so hostile?”

“I told you to stop fucking calling me that.”

“Don't be mean to me. I'm sensitive, baby.” You could hear the frown in her voice, the way her tone took a dive indicating she'd been truly hurt by your words, which only annoyed you more.

“No, you're fucking crazy.” She paused, just like you'd anticipated, and you listened for her intake of breath, smirking when the faint sound of her gasp blessed you. You knew her eye twitched like it always did, you just wished you had the pleasure of witnessing it for yourself.

“I don't like that word.” Her declaration blew through the speaker cold as ice.

You dragged your hand over your face, losing the patience you barely had to begin with. “Riri, what do you want?”

“Did you see my pictures, baby?” Just like that, she did away with the chill lacing her voice, returning it to its usual chipper pitch. “Did you like them? I figured you'd need something to… relax you after your big performance. You did so well by the way, I’m proud of you.”

The thrill that shot through you from her praise would have to go ignored, because you weren't trying to deal with any of your conflicting emotions for the psychotic girl on the other end of the call. “What do you want from me?”

“You and Esperanza looked cozy flirting at the bar. Can't say I wasn't jealous, you never talk to me like that. But if you like her, I could help get y’all together, give you a helping hand and shit. Now that you single.” She giggled slightly after finishing her last sentence.

You turned, eyeing the bar once again. It was mostly empty, save for the three girls in a corner booth, the security guard posted at the door, and yourself. Esperanza had left it seemed, clocking out like she promised, leaving you alone with the ghost of Riri on your line.

You rolled your eyes, remembering how you still suffered the ramifications from the last time she felt inclined to offer a helping hand, “Your crazy ass blew up my fucking relationship and you think I want your help?”

She remained silent for a lengthy amount of time, almost tricking you into believing the line went dead. It wasn't until you were lowering the phone from your ear that she cleared her throat, and you braced yourself for impact. “She could never satisfy you and you fucking know it. You ain't even like her for real, you just wanted a new bitch laid up under you after I stopped giving you access to this pussy baby.”

If the word delusional existed as a person, her name would be Riri Williams.

“You're fucking insane do you know that? Like something is genuinely wrong with you if you think–”

Riri cut you off, “Let's not forget I wasn't alone in our little movies baby. You can't blame your fuck ass relationship failing all on me, because if I remember correctly, you was the one holding the camera while you was blowing my shit, wasn't you?”

Your throat dried, your vision reddened, and your phone shook inside your fist. You couldn't speak because there were no words to be said. “Ri–”

“You know what? I change my mind, I won't help you with Esperanza after all. I like having you to myself anyway. You still want me, and with ole girl out the picture, we can go back to how we used to be.”

“Tell me where the fuck you are Riri.” There was a thud on her end, one that you also heard inside the bar. She was definitely somewhere close.

She tsked, “Nuh-uh baby, you gotta come find me. I got a surprise for you.”

And she hung up the phone, the beep forcing an exasperated sigh from your lips as you stood hopeless in the middle of the bar.

•••

For as long as you’d known Riri, she'd always been obsessed with the never-ending game of hide and seek she trapped you in, forcing the role of being it on you every time. She wanted you scouring the hotel for her while she waited, sitting pretty in whatever cranny she'd made herself comfortable in. She wanted you to do what you always did when you inevitably smoked her out of hiding: punish her for her bad behavior.

Fuck what she wanted.

You wouldn't give in, not this time, and what better way to ensure this case than leaving the hotel entirely? It was late, the night breeze dry as the valet pulled your brand new Ferrari GTC4Lusso around the front, the street lights reflecting off its bold cherry tint. A destination was the furthest thing from your mind when you climbed inside the car, but truthfully, you didn't require one. Driving was merely a ploy to put some distance between you and Riri.

The car’s rumble when you pulled off wasn't one loud enough to drown out your screaming thoughts, much to your dismay. You’d hoped, at the very least, that the revving engine, and the openness of the endless motorway you were now zipping down recklessly, would be enough to dampen your anger. But alas, vexation was an ever-present emotion whenever you found yourself in proximity to her, or rather, when she forced proximity between the pair of you, and it didn't emerge for the reasons you wished it did.

Your adrenaline was rocketing, heart rate spiking in tandem with the numbers on the dash as your toes pushed into the pedal, but despite all this, your sour mood remained. Because you could not discredit Riri's infuriating claim; you wanted her still. You'd endured months without her, abiding by the useless lies that failed to convince you otherwise. That lust for her taste lingered, that lust for her feel, all of it.

Lust that Syla could never satiate, and you often got the sense she wasn't heedless to that truth.

“Fuck!” You cursed aloud, eyes flickering to your dinging phone screen colored in her text messages.

You almost reached for the device resting in the mount, crippling guilt once again driving your decision-making. But you reminded yourself you were behind the wheel, just as an identifiable sensation against your bobbing larynx sent a chilling shiver down your spine, and molded you still in your seat. Briefly, cautiously, you allowed your eyes to leave the road, causing the car to swerve unintentionally into another lane when your gaze became acquainted with the object pinning you down. Beautiful, black, and blinding; the razor-edged blade tacked to your flesh was accompanied by the sweetest pain, and a deeply sultry voice. “We don't text and drive, baby. Leave the bitch on delivered.”

When she spoke, it irritatingly settled your breathing, but not enough to assist you in regaining control of the steering wheel clutched in your fists. There were other cars on the road honking at your continued shifting, but what could you really do when there was an insane girl holding a knife to your throat as you drove? “Riri...”

“I told you to come find me and you didn't.” She spat harshly. Just your fucking luck, she was upset.

“Riri, Ima crash this fucking car if you don't move that shit from my throat.”

She ignored you of course, opting to press the knife in harder. If it were her goal, she could break through skin, the choking pressure indicative of the power she wielded, and in any other circumstance you'd probably be enjoying her lethal way of incapacitating you. “Why didn't you come find me? I was waiting for you.”

“I'm not finna play this game with your psychotic ass tonight Riri. I said fucking move that shit.”

Once again, your cry fell on deaf ears. She kept her hand looped around the driver's seat, knife firm in her fingers as she tightened her grip on the decorative, golden handle.

You listened to her airy exhale, flinched beneath its warmth when it plowed into your expecting cheek, and it was then that you allowed your glare to capture hers in the rearview mirror. Her lips, pouty and red-stained, twitched at the corners, morphing into a foreboding smirk that traveled straight up to her smoky eyes. Eyes that were deep, eyes that were dark, and exceedingly dangerous; like a void you were destined to forever fall victim to.

Riri launched her body forward, nibbling on your bare earlobe. “You're being mean again baby. Real mean for somebody with a knife pressed to they throat right now.”

The sting from the blade began to heighten, building into a burn so glorious, it shot through your limbs, and you found yourself inadvertently tilting your head backward to relish in the hurt.

“I could slit your fucking throat right now and you wouldn't even be quick enough to stop me.”

Words of your own were difficult to come by, you were entirely consumed with combatting the violent throb increasing in your pants, all amidst your efforts to keep you both alive in the drifting Ferrari, but it seemed your soul was the only one inside the car yearning to live another day. “Ri–”

“Just kidding!” The dagger levitated, undoing its imprint in your flesh, and you coughed, one hand instantly flying up to your bruised throat while the other remained on the wheel, regaining full control of the vehicle.

She planted a long, sloppy kiss on your cheek before climbing over into the passenger seat, giggling all the while.

“Jesus fucking Christ Riri, what the actual fuck?!” You spared her a glance, of course she was grinning.

“Were you scared for your life, baby?” She giggled again, biting her lip as she tried reaching for your phone, but you smacked her hand away before she could get to it. “Rude!”

You sighed, “How the hell did you get in here, Riri?”

“Mmm, semantics.” She huffed, seemingly bored.

You relaxed, eyes fixed back on the road now that you were somewhat confident Riri wouldn't be slicing you open. Your muscles loosened and you fell into a leisure position, tossing an irritated scowl her way. “What are you doing in London? You should be at school. Don't you have finals and shit?”

“Aww, look at you all concerned about my studies. You're so cute, baby.” You tried your hardest not to cringe at the pet name and the heat it churned inside your abdomen. “But, obviously I had to see you. You all single now, your tour just ended, and you announced that hiatus, I didn't know when I'd get the chance again. Aren't you happy I'm here?”

“Not at all.”

She frowned, “That's not funny.”

“I wasn't tryna be fucking funny, you shouldn't be here.”

You hadn't needed to see her face to know a smirk played in her features. “You didn't think that lil restraining order was gon stretch all the way across the pond did you? They don't got jurisdiction over me out here baby. I can be as close to you as I want.”

You groaned inwardly, unaware of who you were truly annoyed with; Riri and her actions, or yourself for being so damn turned on listening to her insane logic. She was correct, because you knew that her stunt with Syla wasn't a one-off, and you'd eventually be seeing her again.

Riri was immensely smart, so it made sense that she waited until you were no longer on American soil to corner you, and making you think you'd finally escaped her by being in Europe had to certainly be part of her plan as well. Fuck, why was her conniving nature so damn sexy?

“How did you get in my car?” You asked again.

“I'm not that big, and you should know by now that I'm very…” Riri paused, deliberating on the word she wished to use. “Efficient, when it comes to getting into places I probably shouldn't be in.”

“Yeah, cause you're crazy.”

You could see Riri's body turning towards you in your peripheral, she bent her knees in the seat, eyes locked on your form as she skillfully maneuvered her knife in between her digits. “You like your tongue, baby?”

“What?”

She sneered, “Your tongue. Do you like it?”

“The fuck are–”

“Cause I like your tongue. When it's inside me, when it's rolling over my clit. Yeah, I actually kinda love your tongue, and I really, really want you to keep it.” She surged forward with a quickness, almost diving the point of her ebony dagger through your jugular. “So Ima suggest you stop fucking calling me that shit, I'd hate to have to cut it out.”

All you could do was roll your eyes. “Dramatic ass.”

“And you love it.” She plopped back into the seat with a satisfied smile, extending her legs so they now rested in your lap, to which you did not protest.

Riri giggled, reaching into the bosom of her dress to retrieve a small, clear baggie harboring those circular blue pills that she loved so much. Her wet tongue awaited the tablet's arrival, extending out of her mouth in preparation for its landing. And you turned, one hand on the wheel as you watched a gradual cerulean bleed cover her tastebuds. “Want one?”

“No.” All your attention shifted back to the road and your lack of destination. You'd left the hotel to get away from Riri, yet here you were, essentially taking a fucking joyride with her after she broke into your brand-new car.

“Ugh, lame.” She stashed the pills back inside her titties, once again reaching for your phone, and this time you didn't stop her. “Can I put my song on?”

Your brow quirked, “Your song?”

Riri nodded, “Yes, my song. The song you wrote for me!”

“You think I give enough of a fuck about your deranged ass to write a song about you?” You did, write a song about her that was, a couple in fact. All of them about your reprehensible escapades with the groupie who wouldn't leave you alone, the groupie who you couldn't leave alone.

Your entanglement with Riri had managed to bypass public perception, the only thing you executed correctly when it came to her, so her name had never been in the running when the speculations of who your last album could've been about arose. You knew she'd figure it out though, because of course she would.

She kicked your thigh, causing you to smack her ankle in retaliation. “You do. I'm your muse.”

You bellowed a hearty, sarcastic laugh. "My muse? Oh, you're very unwell, Riri." She pointed the blade your way as a warning, causing you to grin triumphantly. "And which song you think I wrote about you?”

“Don't play dumb baby, you can't pull that shit off.” Riri placed your phone back into its holder, her lips curling into a bashful smile when your voice drifted from the speakers, and her song coasted the car's air.

We done played all these games,

Only now I can't wait, I want you now, I can't wait, oh yeah.

The track she chose had indeed been one she inspired. It was also one you avoided entirely, purposefully leaving it off the set list for all of your shows. But again, here you were, subjected to listening to Riri's painfully off-key rendition of the lyrics that symbolized the relationship you two shared.

But she just wanna off my head, I just want the neck instead.

She just wanna fight in bed, I wanna get high instead, oh yeah.

“You think this is about you?” You teased, only seeking to rile her up. “This could be about any of the other girls I done fucked.”

“You know I can't leavе you alone? You know I could never tell you no? Hmm, definitely sound like this is about me. Cause I know you wasn't running back to none of them other hoes like you was running back to me, let's be for real.” She continued to sing, spreading her legs in the process.

It was muscle memory that had your hand descending to her ankle perched in your lap, making you squeeze it before you began to massage it in the way only you knew she liked. And the smile that you failed to disguise when she whimpered was one of instinct, not intention.

“How many girls have you f-fucked on tour, baby?” The question straggled out of her mouth behind a breathy moan.

You hadn't wanted to award her inquiry with any sort of answer, largely in part due to the answer being one that would please her, so you elected to lie.

“A few.” You retorted with a sanguine smirk you deemed sharper than the blade she flaunted, but when your gaze panned her way, the sight awaiting you dulled your smile into a flaccid frown.

She was bunching her dress, thumbing the fabric of her underwear once the hem circled her waist. “Mmm, that's a l-lie.”

Riri made you weak, downright helpless and impotent whenever her authentic huffs of pleasure gained volume. So it wasn't the least bit surprising when her whines from beside you nabbed your attention from the freeway, making it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything apart from the wet sounds emitted by her dripping center.

Your eyes drifted, and you stifled a moan of your own when you realized she'd graduated from touching herself with her fingers. Riri had the blade locked in her fist, dragging the handle up, down, and around her throbbing clit above her panties.

“Riri, what are you doing?” You bit your lip, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.

She slipped her sticky panties to the side, finally bridging the gap keeping the hilt of the knife apart from her eager cunt. “If you was fucking bitches I would know. Sticking to your rule I see.” You watched the tip of the handle orbit her hole, just before it slowly sank in, getting swallowed by her grip all the way up to the bolster. “F-Fuck baby, I guess this p-pussy really changed your life, huh?”

“I don't want your fucking pussy juice all over my seat. This car is new.” Your scolding tone was feigned, only in an attempt to express a fragment of restraint, but truthfully, every ounce of it slipped swiftly away from you the second you bore witness to that molly hitting her tongue.

You weren't even sure if you were driving on the right side of the road, far too fixated on keeping your composure as your fibers mastered the art of persuasion. They insisted you pull over and allow your fingers to replace the knife, have your tongue relieve the shiny gold hook of its lewd duty of fucking Riri's cunt.

She was thrashing, pumping the back end of the blade in and out, in and out as her squishy pussy sang to you. “Am I the f-first g-girl you let r-ride in your new 'Rari, baby? Ooh, I feel so special.”

“I'm not letting you, your crazy ass broke in. And I mean it, close your damn legs.”

You did the only thing you could think of to get her to stop: you pushed the pedal to the floor, the speed sucking you into the seat as the car surged forward. But beside you, Riri remained a moaning, giggling mess. It was like your accelerated driving, and your admonishments motivated her to fuck her cunt faster as she slicked the knife, making herself wetter. “Hear h-how wet this pussy is for you b-baby? You haven't even t-touched me and I'm fucking drenched. Oh, oh! Shit!”

“Do not fucking come on my seat Riri.”

“Or what? You gonna p-punish me?” She used her free hand to rub coaxing circles into her twitching clit, biting down on her lip as the tool dove deeper into her stretched hole, prodding her sensitive spot just right. “Fuck! It f-feels so good! I'm close!"

You took your eyes off the road, watching her lids droop from the pleasure building deep within, tuning in to the cry clamoring from her tightening stomach.

“Don't.” But you knew she would.

“I can't baby. I-I… Oh fuck!” She groaned, long and breathy, her back arching inward, chest bouncing rapidly from the build-up. Riri screeched the second her orgasm knocked her down, and it was the sexiest sound you'd ever heard. Droves of bliss pillaged her frail body, and she shook violently next to you. “I'm s-sorry... I-I c-couldn't.”

“It's okay.” You were soothing her as she declined from her climax.

The handle glided out of her used pussy, dragging out strings of her oozing cum with it, and the hilt glistened brighter than it did before her hole consumed it. Your quick glances from the knife to the road, from the road to Riri’s seeping cunt weren't enough, you needed to taste her, and it was apparent that she read your mind. “Wanna taste?”

You tried for reluctance, at least your brain did, your body not so much. A steady nod was your only offer, eyes never leaving the road ahead, and you could sense Riri’s grin after receiving your answer. She was excited, pleased, surprised that you gave into her off the first ask, usually she'd have to work harder to earn your compliance. She was on her knees seconds later, left hand propping her up on the center armrest while her right carried the glimmering dagger to your mouth.

She smeared the tip across your full lips, her slickness coating them like gloss, and out came your tongue, drinking in her juices like a parched animal. As always, Riri's cum tasted fucking fantastic, but you refused to give her the satisfaction of moaning. “You like?”

You remained silent, and she smirked, “You love.” She beamed, tapping your mouth, “Open wide baby.”

She was taunting you, this you knew. You were also aware that you were on the verge of doing exactly as she requested without a lick of shame, and you glared at her, unimpressed.

“Please? For me?” She whined.

You couldn't resist her pout, you couldn't resist her, not anymore. So immediately, you promptly parted your lips, offering the stem of the dagger a seat on your watering tongue, your saliva mingling with Riri's sweet, sweet nectar.

This time you did moan, and loud too, fueling her fire just like she wanted, just like you always did. You twirled your tongue around it, sucking and licking every last drop of her creamy cum off the knife handle.

“Backseat. Now.” The only words out of your mouth when she pulled the hilt free, and she clapped, climbing over you as you smacked her ass before pulling the car over on the side of the highway.

•••

“Bend over.” You tried tearing your lips from hers as you spoke, but Riri snagged your bottom lip between her teeth, biting fiercely while her cunt brushed your lap. She kept her eyes on yours, smirking, wanting you to behold the peril swallowing her pupils when she slipped the point of her blackened blade between the buttons of your shirt. She dragged it down, the sharp knife popping each one clean off until your top flew open under her swift slicing.

Your own eyes twinkled encouragingly; you were far too into this; you always enjoyed those seldom moments when you permitted Riri's belief that she held the upper hand.

The tip of her pointed dagger grazed the valley of your unbound breasts, their exposure earning her marvel as she used the bountiful view to aid her desperate humps against your thigh. And you could hear her pussy, you could feel the sticky puddle created by streaks of her first climax seeping through her thin underwear. Her moans were so broken and docile, it almost seemed criminal to make her stop, but you needed her splayed across you.

“You gon make me say it again, mami? You know how I like you.”

With fogged-out eyes, she nodded, stealing one more kiss and shoving the knife into your palm before stretching her small body across the extended center column. Her plump ass elevated to eye level, and you sat back to enjoy the view presented to you.

Lace complimented her skin's deepness far too well. The material embraced her curves, molding to her hips like a second skin, and you nearly let guilt get the better of you for the actions that followed. Your movement was one of speedy precision as you slashed through the bottom half of Riri's dress with the blade she awarded to you, making her gasp.

“This good baby? This how you wanted me?” She backed up a little, seeking some sort of comfort and it clicked then, that this position must be an awkward one for her with the armrest slanting her, and jabbing right into her abdomen.

You bit your swollen lip, moaning from the sweet pain left behind by Riri’s incisors. “Mhmm,” The blade's handle trailed her sticky crotch, “Just like this mami.”

In seconds, you were cutting her cunt free from her messy underwear, kneading and jiggling her exposed ass cheeks in your hot hands. But your pace wasn't up to her liking, and Riri never shied away from voicing her opinion. “You moving too fucking slow. If you gon hi–”

Before her complaint could force its end out of her mouth your palm collided with the meat of her ass, hitting her with unruly force. Her body jerked on top of you, and she yelped, the fragile screech music to your ears. “What you was saying, mami?”

Riri groaned under the rush of pain, then exhaled, and you took this as your opportunity to slap her behind again.

As you ran your hand along her bare skin, you absorbed the heat drummed up from your two hits alone, chuckling. You skimmed the area with your nails, growing more excited watching her twitch. You'd almost forgotten how hopelessly responsive her body was to your touch, even under the faintest brush of it.

“You're a fucking problem.” You slammed an open palm up against her right cheek, smiling at the ripples the collision created in her skin. “Do you even know what you do to me?”

Of course she knew how her actions dictated your decisions, how her guise plagued every divot in your brain. Riri understood her power over you, and it was this very knowledge that had you spanking her again, and again, and again.

“H-Harder!”

Her ass was hot, sore, and damn near swollen. Her tears were heavy streams rolling from her eyes and into her gaping mouth, yet still, she desired more. A resilient little thing she was; you admired her moxie. With every lash, her sopping pussy called on your digits, needing them to plug the dribbling hole expanding the wet patch already existing on your thigh.

“You like that shit don't you? Being in pain?” Your handprint painted her butt cheek, pulling a guttural scream from her throat. “That scream wasn't an answer to my question mami.”

She was full-on bawling, blubbering in your lap when your fingers forced their way inside her cunt unexpectedly, and she lurched.

She sniffled. “Yes! I l-like it!”

“Then shut the fuck up and stop fucking crying.” You smacked her tired ass for the umpteenth time, sliding your fingers through her soaked folds, coating them with all the slick you could collect before ramming them back within her welcoming walls. “You asked for this shit, and you gon take it like the slut you are.”

“Y-You hit like a b-bitch.”

You spanked her once, twice, three times, four times, five; each hit reprimanded her unacceptable behavior as she sobbed with the brown seat leather aching between her shaking fingers.

She wiggled in your grip, wanting desperately to escape the hurtful blows that just kept coming, smack after smack after smack echoing throughout the car. “Not you tryna run Ri, thought I hit like a bitch. Nah, bring that ass back here.” You laughed.

“Please!” Each of her screams made you fuck her pussy faster, encouraged you to slap her ass harder just to revel in her burning skin as Riri cried herself to the edge of her second orgasm.

You pushed up against her nerves, thumb swatting brashly against her swollen clit. “You squeezing my fingers real tight mami, that must mean you finna come.”

“I'm, I'm…” Riri kicked her feet, whining around the deepness of your digits. When she glanced back at you your heart softened just a little. Her big brown eyes were blown the fuck out, leaking fat tears and mascara that seemed never-ending, and she chewed on her lip hoping the action would alleviate some of the hurt. “C-Com…”

Your thrusts slowed, and your hits morphed into a massage as you groped her cheeks tenderly. “Yeah, give it to me, come on my fingers, come all over them.”

“Ooh, baby you f-fucking me s-so good! I’m coming for you!”

She poked her ass out, twisting from side to side as she permitted spasming shocks of pleasure to surge throughout her body at a rapid pace, still backing up into your digits that had yet to depart her hole. “That's it, fuck yourself on my fingers Ri. Show me you can be a good girl, fuck yourself through it.”

It was a difficult thing you’d tasked her with, but luckily for her, Riri thrived off hardship. When the aftershocks subsided, her movements halted and she sighed, moaning low in her throat at the gentle pace in which you extracted your digits from inside her.

“Sit up and come taste it.” You commanded, rolling your eyes when she looked back at you weakly.

With your hand inching toward the hair hanging over her sweaty back, you looped the ends in your fist, yanking her body up until she shifted, then you turned her so her sore ass could plummet right onto the slim storage compartment she was just bent over. “I said sit up.”

Her naked cheeks being forced against the car’s leather prematurely earned you a painful cry. But you didn't care, the reaction only adding to your arousal. You used her parted, wincing lips as an opportunity to stuff her swollen mouth full of your cum covered fingertips, and she gagged from the intrusion before beginning a light suckle. “That's my good girl. Suck them clean for me. You like how you taste?”

“Mhmm.” She hummed around the digits you thrusted in and out of her mouth.

“I know, mami.” You moaned, feeling your clit jump in your pants. “Open your legs, lemme taste that pussy I just made come.”

Riri giggled, separating her sticky legs to grant your salivating tongue entrance. They made a loud squish when she spread them apart, and you could hardly contain your grunt when presented with her messy, bare, pussy lips; your drug of choice. Her cunt's shine danced like diamonds, entrancing you with a beaming glow that could not go ignored. “Shit…”

You reached out for the lever on the driver's side that pushed the seat forward, never once denying yourself face time with her spilling sex. And then you were dropping to your knees, licking your lips before burrowing open-mouth kisses into her sprawled, wet thigh.

Easing her into it failed to make your list of priorities, you wanted her wriggling, squirming with her legs trembling around your face as you slurped her folds. You were also on a mission to feed the starvation gnawing at your gut; it'd been too long since you last feasted on her, and you didn't plan on letting a single drop go to waste.

Your tongue nudged her pulsing clit, licking firmly before you wrapped your thirsty lips well around it, and Riri screeched. “W-Wait baby, wait… Ooh shit.”

And so it began, her pleas for a pause, for you to slow down and allow her to regain her strength. But sadly, her wants were of no importance to you. You trudged on, running your famished tongue around her sweet hole before slipping it all the way in. Riri tapped your head aggressively when you began a slow thrust through her aching walls, and you laughed when your eyes drifted up to see her scrunched face.

“Fuck! Oh.. w-wait..”

“What I'm waiting for Ri? You getting soft on me?”

It was apparent that your comment struck the nerve you intended it to, her huff of annoyance lighting a smile across your face. You refused to let up, licking and sucking the length of her leaking core as she jerked in between broken grumbles. “Ain't nobody s-soft. Eat it r-right and I won't have no c-complaints. Fuck!”

You simply shook your head before diving back into her pussy, rolling her clit in your tongue once more. She whined, the drugs in her system clearly heightening her stimulation, but she took it like a champ, moaning your name breathlessly from above you with her head thrown back.

Riri fisted your curls as you sucked her watering cunt, whimpering where she sat, hips rolling hard into your already stuffed mouth. “Yes! Yes! Just like that!”

“Fuck, I missed this pussy so much.”

“Yeah?” She huffed, tugging your hair to detach you from her center so your stares would align.

Wild eyes scanned your drenched face over, then she tilted your chin, boring straight through your soul with her hopeful gaze. “You missed me?”

You knew what she wanted, and you were fully prepared to give it to her.

“Yes.” Your answer elated her. It didn't matter that in your mind you were admitting to missing her cunt and the way it drooled cum right onto your accepting tongue, to Riri you were confessing to something far more intimate; to Riri you were confessing that you missed her.

The one word, the yes, was enough to bring her to the brink of her third orgasm. But she wouldn't win that easily. You stopped then, just as she was about to fall over the edge, and you let her saturated labia fall freely from your lips before smirking up at her through plotting pupils.

“The fuck are you doing? I was about to come!”

“Ion know, it don't seem like you want it enough.” You teased, making her whine in annoyance. “Need you to beg.”

You'd learned fairly early on that Riri Williams was not a girl easily deterred. With your refusal to allow her release, the job fell on her to complete. Carefully, Riri began to drag her puffy pussy along the lid of the storage compartment she was perched on, hissing in both pain and pleasure as she attempted to make herself come.

You watched her, forever wonder-strickenn by her fortitude. You should stop her, she’d already undergone one orgasm that didn't come from your hands or mouth, and you didn't want that happening again, but the image of her working through the pain brought on by her sore ass cheeks creating friction against the leather was a sight to behold.

“I’m so c-close! Please can I come?!” Her hands found her erect nipples, the standing nubs threatening to rip their way out of her dress. “Please, let me come!”

Her pussy sloshed against the column, her hip jolts splashing her wetness everywhere. Granting her permission would be easy, considering how badly you wanted to enclose her clit in between your lips again, have her juices course your veins like your own personal brand of ecstasy as she convulsed from the shock waves you caused to ripple throughout her body. But you weren't looking for easy, not tonight, not after her behavior.

Your fingers located her waist, holding her still and making her groan in frustration when your strength prohibited her humping. “Mm, do you deserve it?”

“Yes I fucking deserve it!” She yelled, irritated, “Let me fucking come oh my god!”

“That mouth mami. How you gon talk to me like that and think Ima let you come? Hmm?” You parted her thighs, nuzzling your face back into the sweaty space before planting a kiss on her hot skin. “Say you're sorry.”

“No!”

You'd predicted her protest, and you took it as your opening to sink your teeth into her pretty waist. You didn't stop amidst her wails, instead, you dove deeper, biting her flesh with more ferocity. “Say you're sorry Ri.”

Still, she shook her head, standing her ground.

Fuck, you loved how stubborn she was, but you'd never admit that out loud. Luck had been on her side it seemed, because she gave in merely seconds ahead of you puncturing skin, weeping through her words. “I'm s-sorry! I'm s-sorry, baby pl-ease let me come!”

Truthfully you were in awe of how long she held out, surprised by even your own restraint with her pussy lips shoved directly in your face. You were spitting on her bud soon after, suckling her bundle of nerves harshly as you hummed into her quivering sex. “Come in my mouth mami.”

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” Within seconds of your go-ahead, Riri was gushing onto your face, your seats, squirting on everything in her vicinity with a scream so powerful, the hairs on your neck rose to attention.

“Shit Ri, you made a mess all over my fucking seats. I told you this car is new.”

She awarded you a weak chuckle, on the edge of collapse before you steadied her frail body. “You think I give a damn, baby? You can clean all that shit up with your mouth if you so bothered.”

Her smirk was a thing contrived of pure, unbridled deception, and she sported the smoky eyes to match. These were reasons to incite terror, but for you, they only bustled your intrigue.

•••

The blade danced beneath the strap of Riri's dress, leisurely cutting her shoulder free and you watched from in front of her as the frayed fabric fell gracefully away from her skin. “You putting a lot of power in my hands right now Ri.”

“Mhmm. What you gon do with it baby?”

You moved to the other, repeating your destructive motion before finally positioning the gold-trimmed point at her clavicle, gliding the jagged dagger down her chest. Thread after thread bursted under your descent, doing away with everything left of her torn gown, exposing more of Riri's tender flesh.

Riri watched, bewitched by the way you skillfully maneuvered the blade she'd entrusted to you. “You so fucking pretty mami.”

Words that made her brazen, words that bestowed upon you the power to control her body without the need of a weapon. But you used it still, grazing the edge up her bare stomach as she twitched beneath its scrapes. You stopped once you met her bra, slicing it clean down the middle with your lust-filled eyes glued to hers. Riri gasped, startled by your abruptness and the twinge of danger you knew she caught swimming in your irises when her boobs bounced free, and the small baggie of pills fell from its warm hiding spot.

“You sure you don't want one?” She waved it in your face, and you began to contemplate her question. Riri was no stranger to a pill or two, so her enthusiasm hadn't been a surprise. She always offered, and you always declined, more than content with the natural high you floated on from merely making her come undone for you.

Tonight though, something about the tension building in the car was about to coerce a yes right on out of you. But, something else thieved your attention just as you were about to offer her an answer.

Letters. A word. A name. Your name.

Inscribed into her flesh, squarely below her left breast sitting gorgeously in your face, was a tattoo illustrating your name. You blinked, believing you'd somehow imagined the ink and its placement. Unconsciously, you hoisted the knife up toward the tattoo, running the dagger along each and every letter in amazement.

“Do you like it, baby?” Meek words leaving generally poised lips.

Riri had marked herself in your name, in you. And you decided you did indeed like it, you loved knowing that no matter where she ventured, no matter whose fingers wandered her skin, your claim on her would still exist. Permanently. “This my surprise? Cause yeah, I do like it mami.”

You let your lips replace the blade, kissing the tattoo that exemplified your ownership of her body as she giggled from the heat your breath blew onto her.

“Not your main surprise, but I guess it's a s-surprise.”

Soon your lips were latched to her poking nipple, your tongue swirling and tugging on it. She was moaning, a sound that intensified when she felt the sharp jab of the weapon you wielded circle her other bejeweled nub. “Shit… that hurts so damn good baby. Keep it right there.”

Her whimpers traveled directly to your sopping pussy still locked away in your pants. You were swimming in your own wetness, floating atop a wave that threatened to crash down on you the longer you dragged the same knife she held to the column of your throat around her responsive tits. “Yeah? It hurts?”

“L-Love when you make me hurt baby.”

After letting go of her spit-covered nipple, you flattened the sharp tool against it, watching her hiss under the cool contact. You scuffed the steel bar poking through her pebbled nipple with the knife, humming on key with the scraping sound of metal on metal. “I can keep hurting you, or you can give me that surprise I know you want me to have so bad.”

You aligned the pretty dagger with her sweaty neck, and she grinned menacingly. Before the chance to process her guile even arose, Riri regained control of the knife, using it to assist her in widening your mouth. She wiped the back against your tongue, swiping it down the length of your wet muscle. “Your surprise is up next, in the meantime I need you to stick this tongue out for me before I cut it clean off like I promised.”

“You're cute.” You laughed, but you did as she said. Your tongue extended out, and Riri leaned forward, plopping one of her little happy pills directly in the center, waiting for you to swallow it.

“Extraordinary.” She smirked. And then her lips were on yours, kissing you roughly as she sat her naked form in your lap.

•••

Riri attacked your lips with gusto, kissing you like the air you expelled into her was the very breath she desired for survival, and every one of your pecks matched her intensity. “Baby, lemme make you feel good.”

She broke the kiss slowly, tentative in her release of your hot, wanting mouth. But you refused to let her go, holding and compressing her throat amidst her hand fumbling around on the floor. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm…” A second attempt to pull away made you curious as to what she could be searching for. Usually, her main method of action would be to eat you out until your quaking knees detained her head in their hold, and even then she'd still refuse to let up. But that didn't seem to be her intention here.

You groped her boobs, trying your hardest to pinch one of her sparkly nipples, but yet another threat was tossed your way. This time it was your fingers in jeopardy of severance, so you let her go with a deep chuckle. She leaned to the side, pulling her backpack free from under the front seat and you looked at her inquisitively.

Riri upheld her silence, unzipping the bag from her perched position in your lap.

“What–”

Your question hadn't the chance to escape your lips, because soon the lavender glint of the sizable toy Riri used in the photos dispersed across your bathroom counter reflected in your curious eyes. “Tada!”

“Riri what is that?”

“Um, the fuck does it look like?” She tossed you the harness, worming out of your lap and onto the floor in between the driver's seat and the one you sat in now. Your eyes raked the dildo, examining its shape and the intricacies put into its creation. It looked more… advanced than the ones you were used to, an observation that awakened your fascination.

Riri on the other hand, appeared beyond excited. She fumbled with your belt impatiently before deciding to hack at it with her sharp tool. She popped your button open, and mechanically, your hips levitated so she could guide your bottoms down your legs.

“You this wet and you was talm bout some you not happy to see me. Just be lying for no reason baby.” She laughed, tracing a finger over your pulsating clit and you sighed. With all the straining, and all the buildup you'd been suffering through, that lone stroke could've been enough to do you in, a fact Riri was privy to when she smiled up at you. “Strap up baby, need you inside me.”

You wasted no time assembling the strap and securing the toy in place, and with Riri’s help, the harness was adjusted to your body. She positioned herself across the center console for a second time, sticking her ass out as you kneeled behind her in the seat, admiring the display of her used hole. She backed up onto nothing, trying, and failing to get the tip inside on her own. “You're taking too long! Please, I need you!”

Fuck, you supposed by now Riri's unwavering stamina shouldn't be a thing that caused bewilderment, but it would forever be an entertaining sight. She was sexiest like this; eager; desperate for you to destroy her. “You need it so bad, don't you mami?”

“Yes! Please fuck me!”

She needed not to state her demand again, so you snaked your palm around the tip, pumping it gently before invading Riri's soaked cunt.

The instant you bottomed out, Riri trapped the strap inside her narrowing walls, restricting your movement at the same time your eyes began to roll to the back of your mind. Her wetness, her constricting tightness, the heat derived from stretching her velvety cunt wide; you could feel all of her. It was way too overwhelming, the stimulation weakening your muscles.

You hadn't even gotten a single stroke in and you were already fighting off an orgasm, gripping firmly to her hips in hopes of stopping your collapse. “W-What– Why can– Ri, I can f-feel you. Shit…”

You remained still for a few beats, wanting, needing to savor the snugness of Riri’s warmth before drilling her as she deserved. Her squeeze was intense enough to make your eyes well just a little, and you were certain whenever you did allow that pleasure rush to stifle you, the tears would be unavoidable.

“Surprise! You like it, baby? I made it special for you.”

Of course she made it. You pulled out slowly, then pushed back in, still consumed by the sensation, barely able to keep a steady rhythm as you rocked into her dribbling pussy. “Fuck Ri, this is…”

“Shit! Tell me how good my pussy feels, I'm tight, huh?” Your stamping fingers dented her skin as you began to create a rapidly growing pace of stuffing her full of the faux dick she craved so much, and your thrusts had her quaking around you. Feeling every divot in her pussy walls had only ever been a fantasy, one that existed now as your reality, because you unknowingly chose to fuck a super genius who just so happened to be a little off her rocker.

If you thought you were addicted to her cunt before, this strap just changed the game entirely.

You were fucking her with abandon once completely adjusted, snapping into her again and again with an unrelenting grip on her hips; you’d be admiring the marks you left behind later on. Each thrust sent Riri’s small body forward on the armrest, her cries meshing with your breathy moans that fogged the car windows. “Ooh mami, you so fucking tight. Your crazy ass really made a strap so I can feel this pussy, god.”

Your hips crashed into her bouncing ass cheeks, the impact forcing rushed whines out of her throat. You couldn't tell if the sounds were intended to be words, but truthfully you didn't care, far too enraptured by the feeling of fucking her obnoxiously loud cunt.

Every thrust caused her seeping pussy to squish louder, every squish making your clit thump faster as your high began its heightening.

“Your desperate ass always so damn wet for me, I bet you don't let nobody else fuck you, huh? You know I’m the only one who can treat this pussy right.”

She groaned, attempting to speak through your abusive jolts, “Don't f-flatter yourself, I let plenty of other people hit. This ain't y-your p-pussy.”

It was a trap, an obvious one designed to rile you up, but you chose to fall victim anyway, using the molly floating in your bloodstream to control the power dives you took into her tired little cunt. “Oh it ain't?”

She couldn't even speak with the tip of the strap bludgeoning her sensitive nerves, but she still shook her head defiantly. Riri’s hole gobbled up the girthy toy impressively as you leaned back to marvel at the way it disappeared, then reemerged from inside her convulsing walls.

“Why she leaking this much then? Messing up my fucking seats. So damn wet mami.” You slammed into her cervix. “You make special straps for all them other bitches? You let them slut your nasty ass out on the highway like this? Who else you let use your needy little pussy like this?”

Riri was sobbing, loud and boisterous, almost able to give your screaming fans a run for their money with her pitiful little sounds. A few cars honked on their drive past your parked vehicle, certainly aware of the goings on inside. The Ferrari rocked in tandem with your jabs into Riri’s g-spot, the back and forth motion assisting you in pushing deeper into the smaller girl's sex.

“You hear me talking to you don't you Ri?” A deliberate slap met her welted ass cheek, forcing her to scream. “Why you so quiet? This wet ass pussy louder than that fucking mouth right now. You hear that?”

You fucked her harder, grunting loudly into the air when she squeezed your shaft; she was close.

“Pl-ease!”

“This dick shutting you up or something? Pl-ease what?” You mocked, spanking her again, and rattling her entire being.

She pushed back on the unrelenting curved member digging her out, a whimpering mess when she glanced back at you, catching your eyes with her helpless ones. “Wan– Wanna c-come! M-Make this pussy come for you!”

You tsked, “Thought this wasn't my pussy though. Can't make you come if this ain't my pussy.”

Her broken voice made your cock twitch deep inside her, something you hadn't expected and couldn't control.

“M’sorry, it's yours! M'sorry, it's your pussy b-baby, pleaseee!” She cried, squirming as you rammed into her special spot.

“Fuck… What you sorry for Ri?” You tugged on her locs.

You freed one of her hips, looping your hand under her sweaty abdomen so your digits could press into her clit. God, it was too much for her, the endless pounding, the swift flicking of her bud, the jarring hair pulling. You were barely able to move inside her contracting cunt, but you weren't letting her off that easily. “Tell me what you sorry for.”

“All of it, baby all of it! Sorry for s-sending those videos to y-your girlfriend, s-sorry for breaking into your room, your car, s-sorry for hurting that girl at the bar! I'm sor–”

Your thrusts stopped, “You did what?”

“I didn't mean t-to…”

Cautiously, you pulled the strap from inside her reluctant cunt, falling back into the dampened, sticky seat in disbelief.

And Riri followed you, outwardly panicked when she dropped into your lap. She hung her head in shame as she rambled, wanting to explain herself. “She was just flirting with you and you were flirting back, and I didn't like that, cause you're mine, and–”

You thought back to the bar, to Esperanza, to the thud you heard when you were on the phone with Riri earlier, and you tilted her chin so she could look you in the eyes. “Riri… what did you do to her?”

A sound you hadn't expected, but most certainly should've anticipated rumbled out of her: a chilling chuckle. Gone was her frown, in its place stretched a smile that accentuated her unruly eyes. And of course, her seductive response to your pressing question was not an adequate answer. “Put it back in baby, or I’ll fucking bleed you dry.”

You smirked, teasing her clit with the head of the strap. “Crazy girl.”

Damn her, you shouldn't be enjoying this, but you became smitten with the idea of her hurting someone all because she wanted you to herself. It was sick, you were sick, maybe just as sick as her.

Her pussy was dripping onto your dick, coating the length of it with each grind meant to coax you back into fucking her, and it was certainly working.

Riri brought her trusty blade back up to your throat. She pressed in harder this go ‘round, threatening to drag it along your skin, and you were prepared to let her. She leaned in, her breath a warm ghost kissing you instead of her lips. “How many times do I have to tell you I really, really hate that fucking word. Stop saying it.”

“Would you prefer insane?” You clipped back, spitefully teasing as Riri quite literally held your life in her hands. You should be terrified, the bitch was deranged enough to kill you, but the feeling coursing through you was more akin to fear's distant cousin — thrill.

“I'm not crazy,” You could feel the knife's indentation, and your throat bobbed beneath it. “I'm not insane.” She was gliding the dangerous tool against your neck now, and you felt your skin tear, small streaks of warm blood rolling down your tilted neck, catching Riri's wild eyes.

“I just know what I want, and I always get it.”

You moaned, still rubbing up against her overly used clit, head spinning as you reveled in the heat of your crimson liquid staining your chest and Riri's.

Riri lowered the knife, pecking your cheek lovingly before extending her tongue to the shallow little cut she drew into your neck, running it along the length and licking the beautiful blood decorating the area. “And right now I want you to let me ride you, want you to slam into me and punish me for all the bad things I’ve done. I deserve it.”

The head of the toy was still trapped in your fist, twitching from Riri’s every word. You glided it through her crying folds, brushing her hole but not quite shoving your way inside, and she whined.

“Don't p-play. Please just f-fuck me baby.”

And that was all it took for you to slam up into her hovering hole, bullying your way inside her walls as she screamed from the intrusion. “Fuck! Just like that! Keep fucking this pussy like that! Go deep baby, make me take it!”

“This how you want it Ri? You want me to fuck this greedy pussy like this?” Your violent pumps shook her, and she slapped her open palm up against the window to keep herself upright, the knife clattering to the floor. “Use that nasty mouth and answer me when I fucking speak to you.”

But how could she?

Your hands needed something to grab onto as her addictive heat consumed every inch of your dick yet again, nearly rendering you unconscious, so naturally, they gravitated to her neck.

Your fist was strangling her throat, blocking her airflow and her ability to say words. You used her neck to pull her down onto the throbbing member ravaging her tight wetness, enjoying the melody performed by her pussy far more than any of your own.

Shit, you were going to come, and from the feel of things, you were going to unload inside her. An unfamiliar sensation began to brew inside your abdomen, a tightness you knew well, but tucked behind it was something far more rattling, and you weren't prepared for it at all.

“Ooh mami, I'm finna– I think I'm–”

She tapped your stifling fist, unable to breathe and you let her go so she could cough. “I-Inside… do it ins-side!”

And oh fuck, you felt it, the hunger that Syla had never once been able to truly feed. Riri could though, her strangling pussy walls could do that and more.

Your vision went white, and you were quite certain every star in the galaxy resided behind your welling eyelids. Ropes of your release spilled into her accepting cunt, filling her so much, everything that didn't fit leaked right back out and onto your already filthy seats.

“Fuck! Fuck! Oh fuck!”

“Tell me you love me.” She continued to bounce on the strap. You were so sensitive, you could barely take it, but you tunneled your fingertips into her ass cheeks anyway, aiding her as she rode you through your orgasm.

Riri leaned in, kissing your dry lips, “Say it. Tell me.”

“I love you…” You didn't mean it, not in the way she hoped you did. You never meant it when she made you say it, but it made her happy in the moment, and it made her flood your dick, so you always obliged.

With her pussy drowning in cum, hers and your own, she gingerly eased the strap from inside her, slithering onto the floor to wearily envelop your twitching dickhead in her swollen lips, but your ringtone stopped her.

“It's your girlfriend.” She chuckled jeeringly when she turned to read the name flashing your phone screen in the front.

“Let the bitch go to voicemail.” Your final words before you felt Riri swallow you whole, slobbering on the dildo as she permitted your second load to trickle down her throat.

•••

Serenity swaddled you while you lay there, helpless, following Riri's skillful performance with her mouth and jaw. You were still as the unbound night outside the steamy car windows, watching through drooping, fucked out eyes as Riri climbed into the driver's seat. She revved life back into the Ferrari's engine, stealing you, and driving you off to a destination unknown.

[sparkytheandroid]

ABOUT NEW 50% OFF CONTENT

Hey sorry to get your attention like that, kind of a scummy move but bare with me a few moments. I’m the other person who made 50% Off, Sparky the Android, I also voiced Haru and Rin and some other small things. People usually just call me PJ now cause I don’t really make content anymore. Speaking of content Alex, Octopimp, decided he was going to make some new 50% Off content this past week and I would just like to explain some things as to why this is a real legitimate slap in the face to me personally. I want to stress that I was not sexually abused, physically abused, or in any major danger in my long creative partnership with Alex, he was just a scumbag who acted like an asshole and treated me really poorly over the course of the show forcing me to eventually quit. I was willing to just walk away from this stuff. Close the door, yknow? Get some closure but Alex seems intent on opening it by posting new 50% off content without talking to me about it first in any capacity. I have not spoken to Alex in several years but I was and always have been an equal creative factor in 50% Off, so him releasing new content without me feels especially insulting.   Alex came to me ten years ago asking if I would be interested in making an abridged series at the time because I had a background writing comedy and went to school for film. This was under the pretense of an equal partnership. We’re both funny, I’m a good writer and a decent voice actor, Alex is a decent writer and a good voice actor. He bought me my first voice acting microphone and we set to work developing the show with me refining a lot of our ideas into actual scripts to read from. As the series progressed I started taking on the larger writing work and Alex the larger editing work. Episodes went from 4 minute goofs (the original concept) to more longform almost 20 minute episodes at a time where characters had their own throughlines and stories progressing. It was a large task for the two of us, especially the difficulty of editing for Alex specifically. I don’t want any of this to seem like I did all the work, or that I never fought with or insulted Alex because that’s far from my point. Both of us were supposed to be partners but Alex consistently treated the show as SOLELY his in increasing amounts. I had to ask him to stop saying things like “I sign your paychecks.” or to stop insulting me in videos when he would add in insults against me without talking to me about it first. I can take an insult! I wrote some content insults about Alex too! But I was always up front and he would slip his insults in, or little jokes that were not in my scripts, without ever talking to me about them I would see them in the video premiers. He consistently minimized my involvement, I had to argue with him to get my name on the end slate, I wrote the theme rap, I wrote 90% of the material, I wrote our dumb tshirt commercials, the show is unequivocally so much of MY VOICE and I was begging to get a little more limelight or recognition. Alex took guest appearances at cons without talking to me. We did a panel at anime expo where HE was the guest and when I asked him about a badge to get into the con he informed me that he was giving the other pass to his girlfriend at the time. And while he did end up purchasing me a new badge to try and make good, just the act of not thinking that that badge should have been mine was so insulting. When we went to funimation he consistently bore it down on me that i was LUCKY that he flew me out so we could go to Funimation even though he would not be going in the first place without my scripts and voice. He made content without talking to me. He kept me at arms length in an arrangement that was supposed to be equal and I never spoke about it publicly because even a small amount of internet fame warped my little idiot brain and I wanted to keep being famous and cool on the internet. 

I never saw our official earnings numbers or even had access to the channel and took it on blind faith that I was being fair. When I quit the show because it was seriously becoming a real detriment to my mental health I walked away from any earnings the show would make after. 

It sucked. It sucked because I wanted to make more of the show. I wanted to finish season one. I promised people I would. It sucked because for some of it I was having fun! I was going to voice actor parties and people were paying attention to me. Selfishly I thought I could right the ship and turn it into a real career but I know that was never really an option. And it sucked because Alex and I WERE friends. I did some of my best material with him. Times hanging out with him where he was a genuine person were great. And I tried so many things! I realized arguing with him wasn't working so I figured it must be my fault. I tried being more supportive of him, supporting his streams, cheering him on at game tournaments, etc. But he just kept using me and the people around him to further his career. I just couldn’t take it anymore and I took the only ownership I really could and I walked away. The show stopped and, I’m sorry to the people who loved it, I think it should have stayed stopped. Nagisa is a fuckin racist caricature, one I actively contributed too regardless of the actions I took to make Nagisa smarter, more artistic, less of a one note joke about drugs and crime. Hell his final speech about how he felt about fetishizing MLM content at the time was feelings I WAS HAVING as a person coming to real terms with their queer identity. Alex is not a queer person! I am! I gave that speech to Alex to perform. I gave him MY VOICE. But it's still a racist caricature rooted in the past that is my fault for perpetuating.  

And again I’m not an angel. I argued with Alex a lot and said a lot of mean things to his face. Some stuff I regret because I’ve spent the time after the show specifically not shoving myself down another pipeline of making online content. The attention makes me stupid and I act like a jerk! I made mistakes while doing 50% Off and I’m sure I’ve hurt people too. I’m sorry to anyone who crossed my path when I was hopped up on stupid internet fame. You met one of the worst versions of me and it was my own doing. I’m sorry to Alex even for some of the stuff I said. But Alex leveraged his position of power over me as an excuse to treat me like shit. I’m in a good place in my life and I just wanted to shut the door on all this but Alex is intent on opening it after all these years and STILL minimizing my contributions. Saying things like “I just don't have the time/resources to make full episodes anymore.” He can’t make full episodes anymore because he would have to replace my voice in them but more than that replace my entire writing style. I was willing to let him upload a short like w/e its 2023 like whatever right? Tell your joke dude I don’t care. Then he posted another acting like he was going to do even more new 50% Off stuff and a close friend spoke with him saying it wasn't a good idea and he agreed. Then he posted them on youtube! And is saying stuff like this to people in the comments.

Like implying that the only reason he can't continue to produce 50% Off in full is because he doesn’t have the energy or schedule. He can’t continue because it would be continuing without me and I know deep down he KNOWS he shouldn’t. I don’t want any fucking clout or want you to watch any of my content because I don’t MAKE any. I wasn't sexually assaulted or physically abused. Alex was just a huge dick to me and a lot of my friends and we all just let it slide for all of our own personal reasons. Hell I was content just walking away the way I did, making the split seem amicable so there wasn’t a bunch of drama, letting the show stay up, and still field questions for people curious about it. I took my gdrive with every script i ever wrote for the show and just closed the door. I’m just tired after all these years of this guy actively ignoring my involvement in the show that is partially responsible for his internet fame. Tired of him pulling this bullshit “uwu i would love to make more but i just can't!” attitude to lie about why he can't actually make more. Tired of him opening that fucking door. 

A few years ago Alex got in contact with me through a friend with an apology. At the time he sent it many streamers were facing backlash for how they treated people in the past, ones closer to Alex, so this seemed suspiciously timed. The apology I got sounded like every other apology Alex had given me over the years. A lot of avoiding his own culpability in his actions. I told him that if we were to resume being friends it would take a lot. I think anyone who makes the effort deserves the chance to be redeemed, but I had absolutely zero trust in him and thought it was unlikely that he really wanted to make an effort to be a real friend to me. After that we resumed not speaking and when people asked me about him I still tried to make our split seem at least somewhat amicable and I try to generally avoid projects he is involved in. 

Imagine my surprise when he walked out on that Jerma stream. 

I want to thank everybody who watched 50% Off honestly and truly. I think some of it still shines as some of my best work. I got to do a lot of cool things like have my voice in a real anime, and I met tons of people who cared about me and my role in the show specifically. Those people were like life preservers while I felt like I was sinking in Alex’s shadow. It’s undeniably cool to have people respond to your work so well and I know I wouldn't have seen that happen without Alex’s skills as an entertainer and producer. Alex has hurt me personally as a friend, as a business partner, and has hurt several of my other friends in various ways with his behavior. The way I felt on 50% Off became truly harmful to my mental state. I struggle personally with imposter syndrome and RSD and at the time of making the show I had gone through very little therapy to help me develop healthy coping mechanisms for those things. It was just like pouring gasoline into a fire. And I really wanted to put it all behind me for the sake of my own mental health and life because all things considered I’m happy where I am now. I’ve worked really hard on myself personally and have been so lucky to have emotionally intelligent friends help me and give me so many chances I should not have deserved. I’m fortunate to be able to support myself and my cat, and I get to make personal art I love without having to push myself into the internet game because if I’m being honest I had a bad addiction to social media. I apologize I don’t have a nice resolution for you, I’m not asking you to stop watching 50% Off, or watch anything I make, or hell even stop watching Alex’s personal content. I just felt like I had this intense pit in my stomach seeing him parade around in the other half of our two person horse costume and insist he’s wearing the whole thing. Yknow? After all these years I just wanted to say SOMETHING about the way I was really treated so I could finally get some closure for myself. Thank you for your time and again to all the people who DID support the show thank you sincerely. 

[suhnshinehaos]

crush culture : part seventeen (2/2)

synopsis : ln yn has always flirted with huang renjun. but they do that with literally everyone else too, they couldn’t possibly be serious about pursuing him, right? on their final year of university, yn is determined to show that they are. with all the walls that renjun has built around himself, will they be strong enough to succeed in tearing them down? pairing : huang renjun x gn!reader genre/s : university + student council au, fluff, angst, pining, slice of life, humor part 17 wc : 1.15k

part seventeen : homecoming festival (night ver)

previous  ➤  part seventeen : day ver next  ➤  part eighteen  crush culture ➤  masterlist 

“give it up for our very own ncit uni dance troupe! wooo! weren’t they amazing?”

the crowd erupts into cheers as haechan practically screams into the microphone. the sun has set and the stars have come out. most of the festival attendants have decided to direct all their attention to the stage, excited to witness all the talented acts that were slated to perform. 

huang renjun stands near the side of the stage, arms crossed and a small smile on his face as he watched his friends host the program. haechan and jaemin continue to ask the audience questions about their enjoyment and energy levels, to which they could only respond with enthusiastic yells and cheers. renjun takes his eyes off the stage, gazing around the festival area : the bright lights, the colorful banners and streamers, the grinning faces of his fellow students. he couldn’t help the sense of pride that coursed through his veins, knowing that he had helped make this happen.

his gaze continues to take in the crowd, until it stops to land on a very familiar figure. you.

standing a few feet away, your back slightly turned towards him that he could only see the profile of your face. still, he couldn’t help the smallest of flutters that filled his chest at the sight of it; a feeling that isn’t exactly unfamiliar. that very feeling was there when he had met you. renjun shakes his head in an attempt to stop the memory from crossing his mind, and to shake off the feeling that threatened to come along with it. 

especially as another figure comes into his field of vision.

he’s seen him on his twitter timeline enough for him to know it was hyunjin. just like that, a sense of unease washes over him : palms becoming uncharacteristically sweaty, a slight furrow forming between his brows, the thumping of his heart just as loud as the bass that came from the large speakers that surrounded the area.

it’s so easy to tear his eyes away, to focus his gaze on the stage instead as jaemin introduces the next performer. but for some reason, he just couldn’t find it in himself to do so. instead he watches as hyunjin nudges your side, leaning in closer to whisper something in your ear. renjun couldn’t hear the words, but he sees how you react to them : taking a step back before lightly hitting hyunjin’s arm, the brightest smile present on your face.

and there’s a light tinge that creeps into the pit of his stomach, accompanied by the gentle strumming of an acoustic guitar. 

renjun recognizes the song, he could sing along with the performer and the crowd if he wanted to. but he just couldn’t take his eyes off of you. of both of you. his lips press into a thin line as he watches you sing along, swaying slightly to the melody, one arm raised up to wave along with the crowd, hyunjin’s arm around your shoulders.

 ‘ maybe i know somewhere deep in my soul that love never lasts ’

renjun scoffs as soon as the second verse begins. he wasn’t always so cynical about love, or so guarded about falling into it either. a sigh moves past his lips, unaware that someone had already made their way next to him. 

“anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?”

the voice is familiar. in fact, too familiar. just enough to make renjun finally tear his gaze away from you and hyunjin. he turns to face the source of the voice, ignoring their question and greeting them with a curt nod, “yubin. haven’t seen you since you transferred.” 

they smile, and several years ago it would have been enough for his heart to skip the smallest of beats. now it just makes him shudder. 

“well, ncit’s homecoming festivals are notorious among all universities… isn’t that right, my dear renjun?” yubin tilts their head to the side, feigning innocence at the term of endearment. 

“don’t call me that.” renjun snaps, his tone the coldest he’s ever made it in the past couple of months — even more so than when he was on the phone with the head of the disciplinary board. he takes a deep breath, clenches and unclenches his fist in an attempt to calm himself down, “did you come here just to bother me?”

catching the harshness in renjun’s voice, yubin raises their hands in defense and takes a couple of steps back, “woah. calm down, junie. you’re not that special. i came here to enjoy the show. this is the best spot to see the stage and you just happened to be here too.”

renjun clenches his jaw at the nickname, “don’t call me junie. it’s renjun to you.”  

his gaze travels back to where you and hyunjin are, just for the briefest of seconds, before they focus back on the performance. but yubin manages to catch his line of sight, brows shooting up in surprise. 

‘ i’ve always lived like this, keeping a comfortable distance     and up until now i had sworn to myself that i’m content     with loneliness ’

“yn.”

his eyes grow wide at the mention of your name, “what about them?”

“i follow them on twitter… very interesting to see how publicly they make a fool out of themselves only for you to give them absolutely nothing in return. can’t help but feel bad, i used to be in their position.” yubin shrugs their shoulders, the words escaping their lips as nonchalantly as ever.

as if the words didn’t cause his heart to practically drop on the ground beneath his feet. 

yubin continues, “i’m saying this out of concern, renjun. yn seems nice…they deserve someone who is sure of what they’re feeling. i go the same university as hyunjin now, and he’s still writing songs about them.”

‘ i’ve got a tight grip on reality but i can’t      let go of what’s in front of me here ’

the crowd’s collective voices ring out into the cold night air, and renjun couldn’t help the shakiness in his voice when he finally responds to the person next to him. 

“yn wouldn’t give up on me. they’re not you.”

yubin nods, “yn’s a lot stronger than me, renjun. but i know pain when i see it. don’t be so selfish. yn doesn’t deserve that.”

and renjun sees it : the tension that’s disappeared from your shoulders, the smile that’s reached the corners of your eyes, the way you lost yourself into the performance. completely and utterly in the moment, with someone else beside you.

and yubin was right, you did deserve better. at least more than what he could offer at the moment. it’s something that he’s always known anyways.  

‘ you are the only exception,      and i’m on my way to believing. ’

the song finishes and the crowd once again erupts in cheers. but renjun could only smile sadly and walk away from it all. 

from reese, with love <3 it’s angst time babyyy !! today on crush culture radio is paramore’s the only exception >_< thank you all fo reading !! as always, id love to know what you think :)) hope you are all doing well and taking care of yourselves :))

let’s hope yn doesn’t wait too long, yeah?

[catdotjpeg]

About a thousand protesters converged on Hollywood on Sunday ahead of the Academy Awards ceremony to call for an immediate cease-fire in the Israel-Hamas war. Their presence frustrated Oscars organizers and traffic control. Shortly before the ceremony was set to begin at 4 p.m., dozens of black vans carrying attendees stood at a standstill on Highland Avenue. “Go, go, go!” one organizer yelled as he frantically waved at cars to move through the intersection at Sunset Boulevard and Highland near the Dolby Theatre, where the ceremony was set to start. Some Oscar-goers ditched their cars and walked toward the venue. By the time the ceremony began, police had cleared access routes. Three hours earlier, demonstrators began gathering by the hundreds at the intersection of Sunset Boulevard and Ivar Avenue, about a mile east of the theater on Hollywood Boulevard.

The demonstrators then spilled out to Sunset Boulevard, waving Palestinian flags and occupying the eastbound side of the street. “Let’s shut it down!” protesters chanted as they swarmed Sunset. The crowd began moving westward on the boulevard, led by a white van with half a dozen people on top chanting into a microphone and megaphone. About 40 police officers in riot gear stood vigilant at the intersection of Sunset Boulevard and Las Palmas Avenue, one block west of the approaching crowd. “Free free Palestine!” the crowd chanted to a drumbeat — waving posters showing a movie slate painted in black, white, green and red, the colors of the Palestinian flag — with a message addressed to the Oscar audience: “While you’re watching, bombs are dropping.” Demonstrators also gathered earlier around the Hollywood Boulevard exit off the 101 Freeway and at the intersection of Sunset and Vine. Still others rallied on La Brea and Franklin avenues, near the Dolby Theatre, waving signs saying “Cease-fire now.”

[...]

Miguel Camnitzer, a member of Jewish Voice for Peace of Los Angeles, said he recently joined the pro-Palestinian cause. The grandson of Jews who fled Germany during the Holocaust, the 44-year-old said he could not stand by while Palestinians are killed. “I just can’t sit home today watching an awards show when a genocide is going on in the name of my people and with a previous genocide having happened to my people,” he said. “I was raised believing it’s a collective responsibility from preventing that from anyone else.” For Sarah Jacobus, a mentor for young writers, protesting the Israel-Hamas war is more about getting food, water and other necessities to her mentees, some of whom are in Rafah in southern Gaza. “They’re hanging on for dear life,” Jacobus, 72, said. “Two are in Rafah, one in a tent with his family and another in a room with about 50 people.” She said one of her mentees needs diapers for his 2-month-old, but “what they need more than anything is freedom.” Joining the demonstration on Sunset, several members of the Screen Actors Guild and the American Federation of Television Radio Artists showed their support for Palestinians and a cease-fire, holding a large SAG-AFTRA poster at the front of the crowd. One of the protesters was a 35-year-old actress whose aunt and uncle are sheltering in a church in Gaza, she said. She requested anonymity for fear of retaliation against her family in Gaza and herself in the entertainment industry. “Hollywood is complicit,” she said, as she marched west toward the Dolby Theatre with the crowd. “There is this racist ideology running rampant inside [SAG], and there is no punishment for it.”

-- From "1,000 Gaza protesters rally in Hollywood ahead of Oscars, blocking traffic" by Ashley Ahn for Los Angeles Times, 10 Mar 2024

[sinsandsuccubus]

I Wish You Roses - Jack Harlow

Context: “With pretty flowers can come the bee sting”

Genre: angst

Word Count: 1.0k+

Pairings: Jack Harlow x Ex!Fem!Artist!Reader

Warnings: n/a

a/n: This was something quick I wanted to put out, so excuse any grammar errors if there are any. I kind of didn't like the way this ended, but ya know, I always hate my own writing. One of the favorite things I love about myself.

Masterlist ☽☾

“Ooh, never thought I would be without you

I wish you love, I wish you well

I wish you roses while you can still smell them”

The MTV music awards were here, and with every awards program came a performance.

This year around you were performing your new song, “I Wish You Roses” from your new album “Red Moon in Venus”. Once again, you had been nominated for an award, this time, Best Song of the Summer.

You were going up again many other artists, such as Ice Spice, Taylor Swift, Beyoncé, and your ex, Jack Harlow. You didn’t expect all the different genres of artists in one category, yet, here you were.

Your microphone was glittery gold, to match the color of your album, and you were wearing an orange dress, with diamond Louis Vuitton red bottom heels. You wore a headpiece, specifically a crown, and your hair and makeup was done to perfection.

You took a deep breath, your manager coming along beside you, resting her hand on your shoulder.

“You got this. Don’t forget where the song came from, and sing it for the person who it’s for.” She looked at you and smiled softly, nodding her head.

She was right. You had to sing the song from your heart, for that’s where it came from. And the song was for your ex.

Jack Harlow.

The two of you had been together for almost three years before deciding to break up, the deciding factor being Jack’s newly found career. His music and features had taken him to a new level of famous, something he had never experienced before, and his management team thought it would be best for him to step into further the game with a clean slate. Meaning he had to break up with you.

It was difficult in the beginning, not being with the person you loved, yet seeing them all over the internet. You were truly happy for him, happy he was becoming recognized and credited within his rapping career. However, you did mourn the loss of your relationship, the hole in your heart never closing.

So, after going through tons of therapy and with the approval of your manager, who was like a best friend to you, you wrote “I Wish You Roses”, in dedication to your ex and your previous relationship.

You just hoped he recognized the song was about him.

“And now, singing a new song from her new album, Red Moon in Venus, please give a warm welcome to Y/S/N”

The lights dimmed as you rose up from the center of the stage on a white pillar, aerial silk dancers floating in the air in your presence. You began to sing your song, putting love and effort into each part that you were singing, your vocals strong.

“While I'm here, I'm someone to honor

When I'm gone, I'm someone to mourn

But if you and my heart should someday drift apart

I'll make sure to give you these blessings

Because they're all I've got

My love's deep as the ocean

Don't you drown on me

Just know any love I gave you's forever yours to keep”

As you belted the song from your heart, you looked into the crowd, spotting Jack sitting front row. You kept eye contact with him for the majority of the song, eyes drifting from him as you finished the song, ending it with notes from the heart.

You're gonna want me back

You're gonna want me back, you're gonna

You know we can't do that

You know you can't do that, you know it”

The crowd applaud as you ended, slowly drifting back onto the pillar, sighing as it was lowered into the stage. You smiled at your manager, who immediately handed you a snack and a bottle of water, a ritual you had going after your performances.

“You did great Y/N.” She spiked, embracing you in a hug.

“It felt like it. Let’s just hope he got the message.”

Smiling and waving at everyone, you slowly made it to the Sheppard Bus parked in the section for the attending artists, holding your award in your hand.

You had won song of the summer, your fans supporting you all the way through. You were happy, ecstatic, yet there was still one person you wish you had heard from.

“Maybe he won’t stop by.”

“I doubt that Y/N. Look.” Your manager pointed towards the parked Sheppard’s bus, Jack standing in front of it, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. You smile and nodded your head towards your manager, who took the award from you and made her way towards the vehicle. Slowly you walked up to him, your dress trailing behind you swiftly.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Jack spoke, fiddling with the packaging of the flowers he held in his hands.

“Are those for me?”

“Oh shit, yes. Yeah, they are.” He thrusted them towards you, a small laugh leaving your lips. You took in a whiff of the roses, smiling as you looked back up at Jack.

“They’re gorgeous, thank you.”

“Of course.” There was a pause.

“Listen.” You both spoke at the same time, “Wait” you both spoke again, looking at each other with a smile.

“Go ahead.” You nodded to Jack, who began to twirl the ring on his finger - a nervous tick, something you had picked up on while you were together.

“Listen, Y/N I- I never meant for things to go down between us like they did. It was never my intention to hurt you, now that I can see that with the song you performed tonight.”

“So you think it’s about you?”

“Wasn’t it?” Jack looked at you panicked, his bright blue eyes looking directly into yours.

“Of course it was Jack, I was just messing with you.” You smiled softly, a sigh leaving Jack’s lips.

“Phew. Don’t do that, you know I don’t like sarcasm like that.” You both laughed it off, your eyes drifting down to the flowers.

“But like I said. I really didn’t want our relationship to end between us as it did, and I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

“Jack… let’s not do this right here.” You spoke softly. “How about tomorrow, over lunch?” You looked at him, hoping he would say yes.

“… Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. I’m cool with that.” He nodded at you, placing his hand on your cheek. Smoothly, you moved closer to him, kissing him on his cheek.

“I’ll text you the details. Goodnight Jack.”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

[soap-lady]

Here you go

@fantasiame, @g-arya, @lavenderjunes, @charlietheepic7, @ahenix, @delectablycoolscientist, @kaseykay17, @vio-march-0327, @mewwitch, @vixen-uchiha, @coolspidermanmusicflower, @lady-bee-fechin, @raeuberprinzessin, @symwinter, @frieddonutsweets, @seraphkitty, @friendsofthefairies, @nickristus-dreamer, @khneltea, @jumpingjoy82, @fan-written,  @woe-is-me0,@corporeal-terrestrial, @queenmjean, @theymakeupfairies, @dorkus-minimus, @idk-j-go-with-it, @aespades, @swiftie-miraculer13

Worthy Opponent Chapter 24

Felicity looked over at Barry’s plate, doing nothing to hide her disgust. “I can’t believe you’re going to eat such disgusting garbage. How can you even move after that? British cuisine was clearly based on a dare.”

“Nonsense, my dear Flick,” he responded as he sliced up his black pudding while looking her straight in the eye, “a brain such as mine needs fuel for the long haul, not some carbohydrate nightmare that wouldn’t leave a bird alive. And you have no right to criticize my country’s food when you’ve been known to eat snails. ” He smirked at her “continental breakfast” and she scowled at him.

“Jokes on you, Barrington. The average bird can eat twice its own weight.” She looked at Elinor for support but she was too busy feeding bits of baguette covered in Nutella to Seabert. She muttered under her breath, “If Jayden were here he’d back me up.”

“Nah, Jayden is still carrying on a torrid love affair with his laptop,” Jack plunked down his plate beside Felicity’s and across from Barry. “They’ll make beautiful apps together.”

Felicity paused her argument with Holmes to look at Watson’s plate. What she saw shocked her. “Jack, darling…what the hell is that?”

“This?” Jack pointed proudly at the jumble of eggs, bacon, potatoes and cheese on his plate. “In America, we call this a ‘breakfast skillet’. It has all the protein and carbs I need. Plus cheese.”

“So…Americans disguise their horrible food with cheese?” Felicity asked. She could almost imagine poor Jack’s arteries hardening. She made a mental note to offer a cup of fruit and perhaps some Scottish oats the next day.

Barry just shook his head. His poor Watson, forced to eat something so revolting for eight years. He’d teach his partner about good hearty English food once he had the chance.

What they were thinking must have shown on their face because Jack glared at both of them. “Hey. Eat my ass.”

“Buy me dinner first!” Felicity retorted before Barry could open his mouth.

Anything Watson might have said in reply was interrupted by the intercom system.

The Headmaster’s voice was heard. Holmes noted he sounded tired and stressed. His words were clipped and his delivery was wooden. “Attention, faculty and students. At this time I would like for all of you to make your way to the assembly hall. No dawdling. Anyone caught skiving off will be disciplined, no exceptions. That is all.”

The speaker cut off and the trio stared at each other then around the room. All of the other students were dutifully putting down their utensils and making their way to the assembly hall. Felicity all but dragged Jack to his feet and hauled him away towards the exit. All Barry could do was follow silently as he contemplated the changes in their group dynamic.

He decided he didn’t like it.

                                               *****

The Headmaster stood on stage and waited until all the Hearts, Clubs, Diamonds and Spades grouped themselves according to their class (Spades near the front, naturally) and took their seats. They whispered among themselves until he approached the podium and gently tapped the microphone.

Everyone quieted down and once there was silence he spoke.

“It seems as if both a year and a mere moment has passed since I last stood here and told you all of the sad death of our beloved Professor Akunin.”

He allowed everyone to murmur “Rest In Peace” or something similar before continuing.

“And as you may remember, in a few weeks we were slated to have our annual Founders’ Ball, where we celebrate the coming together of the greatest detectives the world has ever known.”

There was more murmuring a bit of applause. He waited again.

“Thus, it is my sorrowful duty to announce that I am recommending to the Board that the Ball be canceled this year.”

The Headmaster was no doubt expecting applause and polite agreement. He would be disappointed.

There were some relieved sighs and some surprised gasps but most of the crowd seemed displeased.

“That’s not fair!”

“I already bought my dress!”

“The professor would want us to carry on.”

“Oui!”

The students were very quickly turning against the Headmaster and a few professors approached the podium, intent on speaking with him.

Judging by their body language the Headmaster had neglected to discuss his decision with the rest of the staff. Dissent among the professors would spread to the students and then they’d have a riot to quell. Or worse, mass detentions. This wouldn’t do.

Well, Barry was a Spade. More than that, he was a direct descendant of Sherlock Holmes and if their student body had a leader, surely it was him. He opened his mouth to speak up.

Felicity beat him to it. She left her seat and made her way to the stage.

The Headmaster seemed too surprised to chastise her. “Have you something to say on the matter, Miss Dupin?”

She nodded. “Forgive the interruption, but I do. Is it alright if I approach the podium?”

Jack’s eyebrows rose and he looked at Barry. He knew “Filly” had a high class education and probably an etiquette tutor but he’d never heard her sound so formal and posh.  It made him feel a little unpolished and grubby in comparison.

Holmes stared right back then up at Dupin. Felicity looked…he believed the Americans used the term “badass”. Her posture was ladylike and respectful, yet not to be ignored. It was…rather attractive if he were being honest.

The Headmaster  nodded and she walked up to him. She had her hands clasped together, the only sign Barry could find that she was nervous at all. Felicity began to speak into the mic.

“With all due respect to you, sir, and with the greatest respect to Professor Akunin, I, as a Legacy student, refuse to be scared off by some nameless faceless…criminal,” Barry could tell she had wanted to use a stronger word, “I want the ball to be held as scheduled. I’m not about to allow my ancestor to be dishonored either.”

There was a buzz of approval among the students and maybe even a professor or two. Barry couldn’t help a small grin of endorsement. The ball had to go on for their plan to lure out the murderer or murderers to work. He was sure they wouldn’t be able to resist sneaking on campus; the school always hired additional help to prepare for the ball and he and his friends were laying a trap. Jayden would no doubt have his extra surveillance prepared to catch them or just gather evidence. He wasn’t sure how he felt about being bait but neither could he ask one of his friends to do it.

There was some applause and cheers of support before the Headmaster broke in. “I can’t allow my students to expose themselves to danger!” he protested. He looked at Felicity, who was doing her best to look brave and stoic. “Miss Dupin, it would grieve me if anything were to happen to one of our Legacy students such as yourself of course, but I feel the same way about all the students who attend here.” He indicated the entire student body with a sweep of his arm. “All of them are important and precious to me and it is my duty to protect you. How could I look any of your parents in the face and tell them that one of you was harmed?”

The man looked genuinely worried and sad, no doubt thinking about his failure to protect one of his staff. Barry felt a stab of pity for the man, even though his caution, even for the best of reasons, was screwing up their plan. He opened his mouth to speak again, only to be interrupted for the second time in ten minutes.

A young girl with waist-length chestnut hair glided her way up the stage and near the podium. She pointed at the microphone and Felicity looked at her, shrugged, then stepped back. Holmes blinked once or twice, then focused on the new speaker.

Irene Adler.

“I think Felicity has a good point, Headmaster,” the girl smiled at Dupin, who tried not to look shocked at her surprise ally. Adler also smiled at the headmaster. “But you also make a good point about protecting the students and how parents would react. So, what about a vote?”

The room buzzed again as everyone began whispering, asking each other what Irene could possibly mean by a “vote”. Barry felt his esteem for the girl rise slightly.

Irene went on to explain. “Everyone here has a school email address, right? Even if they prefer to use their own personal one.” She turned to the Headmaster, gesturing with her hands as she spoke. “There are all sorts of websites that make polls. You could set up a poll where everyone could vote whether or not they wanted a ball or not. Then you could send a link to everyone’s school email address and everyone could vote anonymously. No hard feelings.”

There were some mutterings of agreement and excitement but Barry could tell not everyone was convinced. He was sure he could do something to rally the undecided and racked his brains for an idea.

“That’s…rather brilliant, Miss Adler,” The Headmaster praised Irene. “Better yet, it’s completely fair. Attendance will not be mandatory for anyone!” He addressed the crowd and there were a few cheers.

“Say, Watson,” Holmes began but the other boy was up on his feet and dashing up to the stage.

Jack grabbed the microphone before anyone could stop him. “Hey, I’m Jack Watson if you haven’t met me yet. How’s it going? Anyway, maybe the school could arrange a field trip to a concert or a theme park for any and all students who don’t want to go to the big ball.” The stage lights were bright but Jack could see a few heads nodding along with his idea. “That way, everyone gets to do some fun sh…stuff,” he amended and there was a louder round of applause for Watson.

The Headmaster looked a bit ruffled that the problem was getting solved without his approval or input but most of the student body seemed to agree with the ideas the teenagers had put forward and he really didn’t want to offend three Legacy students, two of which were children of the founding families. He sighed and gave up.

“Very well. We shall do as you three have suggested.” He addressed the crowd with all the authority of a man trying to pretend they were all his ideas. “We shall continue with the ball if a majority of the students vote for it and anyone who does not can sign up anonymously for a field trip to be determined later.” He accepted the mic back from Watson and placed it back in its stand. “Due to all this excitement and the disruption to the usual schedule, morning classes are canceled. You may all go back to the cafeteria where the staff will be pleased to serve fresh meals to anyone who hasn't had a chance to eat. After that, you may consider the rest of your morning as a free study period. Afternoon classes will continue as scheduled after lunch. Dismissed.”

He and the professors left the stage, no doubt to tell the cafeteria staff they were now pulling double duty. The students milled about as they talked excitedly among themselves and slowly made their way to the cafeteria or their dorms.

Barry sat in his seat and watched Jack and Felicity walking together, hopefully towards him.  He caught Irene staring at them and then back at him. He swore the look on her face was pity. “Well, I suppose no one needs me around, do they?” he muttered to himself. He sighed and pulled himself to his feet. No more sulking for him. He had a plan to put together.

                                               *****

“Cut!” Amelie called out. The crew clapped around her. “All in one take! My darlings, you’re brilliant. Victor, you’re a star!”

“Well I do my best,” Victor bowed and made his way to his dressing room.

“Well done, Lila,” Amelie smiled at her and the girl found herself blushing involuntarily. She loved praise, almost more than she loved attention. Especially sincere praise. Plus, there was something about the way Amelie smiled at her that made her want to do a good job, not just climb the social ladder.

“Thank you so much, Amelie,” Lila smiled and for once since she’d known the girl, it wasn’t artificial and self-serving, but surprised and pleased. “I’m starting to really get inside Irene’s head. She’s so much more complex than I realized.”

Amelie smiled again, feeling ever so slightly guilty for the first time. Lila had done something to Allen the other children refused to discuss fully and thus they’d insisted she keep making Lila’s part smaller. Now she wondered if she should give the young woman another chance. Perhaps if she continued to do well they could find a larger part for her on the next Graham Films production.

Ah, there was nothing more thrilling to Amelie than developing new talent.

Gio came up behind Lila and ran a hand over her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Didn’t I tell you?” he whispered, “all you have to do is show everyone what you’re truly capable of. Now everyone can see how talented you are.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I should always listen to you. You give the best advice.”

For a moment she allowed herself to dream of fame and fortune again. Accolades she’d earned honestly. Recognition that didn’t depend on claiming to know celebrities and snagging a trophy boyfriend. Her fame as a model depended on staying in Gabriel Agreste’s good graces and he could take everything back any time he wished. If she’d earned her way with hard work and talent, no one could take that from her. Not unless she well and truly screwed up.  Once she was rich and famous enough she’d hire a financial advisor to help her invest in funds and then she could live off the interest if she were careful.

Amelie clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention and Lila pulled herself out of her daydreams. “Exciting news, everyone! Mrs. Jennings and our own little Marinette have completed the costumes for the ball and are ready for fittings. I’m going to ask the ladies of the principal cast to follow either Mrs. Jennings or Marinette to the Wardrobe Department. Adults with Mrs. Jennings and younger ladies with Marinette. Chloe will be there to take pictures so keep your makeup camera ready.”

“No nudes,” Chloe assured everyone. Yeah, she could be a bitch but not when someone was at their most vulnerable physically. Well, not anymore.

“Boo!” yelled one of the male extras.

“Boo!” chorused one of the female extras.

Amelie gave them both a look of disappointment, somehow picking them both out of the crowd. “Really, this isn’t that kind of production. Dignity and consent at all times.”

She waited until the room was calm again and continued. “Step lively, ladies. Gentlemen, we’ll be dividing into two groups. Group A will shoot a scene with most of the Spades and the Headmaster about their findings on the case so far. Group B will be secondary characters like Marlowe and Charles IV discussing what the ball could mean for the investigation and whether it will draw out the killer or just get everyone in one place to be slaughtered. Off you pop.”

The men and boys grumbled good naturedly but none the less went off to prepare the next scene. Lila was about to follow them when she was stopped by Amelie.

“Aren’t you going to attend your fitting, dear?” the woman asked.

“But I thought I was just…” Lila stopped and Amelie watched as comprehension settled over the girl’s face. “Oh!” She reacted with genuine surprise. She was being included with the main cast? Not some rented gown or something from stores but a dress designed specifically for her?

She danced a little in place before remembering Marinette had designed her gown. Someone who saw through her and hated her. Someone who could do anything she wanted and not have to face the consequences. She had power over her and Lila hated it. It was quite the role reversal than their old college dynamic.

She forced herself to relax and smile at Amelie. “On my way! Thank you!” She turned away and practically raced after the other girls on her way to the Wardrobe Department. Marinette wouldn’t do anything to her. She was a coward and would never risk looking bad to Amelie. She had nothing to worry about.

Amelie chuckled to herself once everyone was out of earshot. Yes, Miss Rossi was worth watching.

                                                  *****

“Marinette! I love it!” Mylene twirled around the room in her ball dress. “I was afraid it would be too formal and hard to dance  in but it’s so flowy and easy to move in. It’s just my style!” She rubbed the material between her fingers. “It feels like silk.”

Marinette smiled and nodded at her friend. “I didn’t think Victorian fashion would suit you but bohemian chic would.” She laughed. “Well, boho chic with hints of haute couture. I was inspired by your braids and went with a rainbow dip-dyed material. Sustainable cotton sateen, which is vegan of course. It’s a great alternative to synthetics. ”

Mylene nearly cried and hugged her friend for her thoughtfulness. “It’s perfect,” she let her go and stepped away. “I should probably take it off before I ruin it.”

“Not quite yet. I want to adjust the hemline. It’s a little too long and I don’t want you to have to wear heels if you don’t want to.”

Mylene looked thoughtfully at her reflection. “I was thinking this dress would look cute in matching low-heeled sandals.”

Marinette blinked and adjusted her thinking. “That could work. Do you mind standing on the platform, please?”

Her friend did as asked and Marinette marked the hemline accordingly and began to pin it up. “Is this too high, do you think?”

Mylene looked at her reflection. “A little. Would a centimeter lower be alright?”

The designer made the adjustment. “Right here?”

“I think so.”

She readjusted her pins and together they looked at Mylene’s reflection. “You know what, Mademoiselle Actress? I think it’s perfect.”

“I think so too.”

Mylene let Marinette help her off the dressmaker’s platform and looked over to where Chloe was quietly taking pictures.

The blonde lowered her camera and looked at them. “I got all the shots I needed. Mylene can change now.”

“Thank you, Chloe,” Marinette had decided she’d be professional as long as Chloe was and so far it was proving to be the right decision. “I can’t wait to see the finished book.”

Mylene straightened her back and surprised everyone by giving her former bully a small but confident smile. “Marinette’s designs are so good. You should probably commission her to make you a dress for the premiere while she’s still available.”

Chloe didn’t say anything at first but managed half a toothless smile. “Maybe.” She pretended not to see the other girls staring at her wide-eyed. “I need a new memory card. I’m going to go grab one real quick before you let Rossi in here.”

                                                        *****

Lila approached the Wardrobe Department with more than a little nervousness. She tried to tell herself it was just Marinette but that thought didn’t reassure her like it used to.  Despite her best efforts at manipulating the situation (or straight-up attempted second degree murder), Lila was still a nobody. It galled her that everyone thought Marinette was so wonderful and sweet. But unlike school, Lila’s usual tricks didn’t work on actual rich and famous teens with connections of their own. They didn’t even work on Adrien now that he was dating The Ice Queen.

They’d never worked on Felix. Even if she hadn’t alienated his friends, he was smarter and more perceptive than his cousin. Damn him. Now she had to be very careful because she was sure he suspected her involvement in Marinette’s near deaths. Oh, and his but he was just collateral damage. Her main target had been Marinette.

She carefully assumed a tranquil demeanor, took a deep breath, and opened the door to the Wardrobe Department with a wide smile.

Inside she found organized chaos as interns rushed from dressing room to dressing room with heaps of garment bags, tape measures, and various sewing tools she didn’t recognize. She felt horribly lost and out of place, a feeling she hated, until a young woman who introduced herself as Sophie led her to a room.

Sophie opened the door for her and ushered her inside. Lila smiled in thanks and Sophie gave her a weird half-smile before leaving and closing the door behind her. Great. Now the crew didn’t like or trust  her either. She didn’t actually care about them but she made a mental note to be even more careful what she said or did on set. She wasn’t famous yet and couldn’t risk rumors of bad behavior. Only stars got to act like divas without reproach.

To her surprise the person waiting for her wasn’t some intern or even one of Sra. Jennings’ assistants but Marinette herself. She forced herself not to smirk but having the girl who had somehow stolen everything she wanted waiting on her was hilarious.

“Marinette!” she chirped. “It’s so good to see you! I’m so happy you designed a dress for me! I can’t wait to see it!”

The other smiled and Lila was surprised to see she didn’t look upset to see her like she expected. It could be because of Marinette’s newly acquired acting skills or she was just more comfortable when designing. Lila couldn’t wait to see the gown so she could make Marinette look mean and petty by complaining about how unflattering the dress was. She wouldn't put it past the little wannabe to design something hideous and expect Lila to wear it.

Marinette just continued to smile, looking calm and professional. “I hope you like it, Lila. I designed it not just for your character , but with you in mind as well.”

Lila blinked, temporarily at a loss for words. She had expected Marinette would have designed something for her character. It was, quite literally, her job. But to hear that she’d also taken Lila herself into account when designing? It made her feel…almost warm.

Someone cleared their throat and Lila turned her head away from Marinette and towards the sound.

Sitting with her legs crossed and a camera on her lap was Chloe Bourgeois. Joy. Another person with too much influence and far too much money. Someone who also hated her guts and would cheerfully have her shot into the sun. Or just…deported.

“Oh, Chloe!” She pretended to be surprised. “Still taking pictures for the making -of book? How wonderful for you!”

The blonde looked at her from under her lashes with a “duh” look on her face. Lila continued to smile, because she was sure it would piss the other girl off.

“Um…anyway…” Marinette walked over to a rack containing a single garment bag. (She had insisted that every dress for the Founders’ Ball scene be stored separately and under lock and key. She told Mme. Jennings it was to prevent leaks to the press but it was really to prevent sabotage.) “It’s time to have your dress fitted.”

She unzipped the bag and gently pulled out the dress. Lila clenched her jaw to keep it from dropping. She was all ready to act offended and Marinette had unknowingly thwarted her.

The dress was a beautiful dark green that shimmered under the fluorescent lights. It was long with a full skirt and cinched waist. It had a high winged collar, long sleeves,  and a v-neck that would show off her collar bone without being too revealing. She studied her reflection in the full length 360 degree mirror.  It was absolutely gorgeous, but…

Lila pouted and tried to make herself look pitiful. “It’s…not orange.”

Chloe huffed and muttered something about someone being ungrateful under her breath.

Marinette just smiled. “The dress is made from Georgette silk from a cruelty-free company. I know your favorite color is orange but I thought the color would enhance your hair and skin tone. Not to mention making your eyes pop.” Her smile seemed genuinely encouraging and not mocking at all.

She held out the dress to Lila. “Just try it on first before you decide. Some clothes look different on the hanger than they will on a person.”

Lila dearly wanted to say no but something made her nod. It did look like a pretty dress and she’d never worn Georgette silk before. The material alone must have cost a fortune and that by itself made her want to try it on.

She gingerly took the dress from Marinette, who hadn’t lost her smile as she pointed towards another door. “There’s a private changing room right there. Don’t worry, no one will watch you change.”

“Not even Chloe?” Lila asked and tried to sound timid.

“Don’t insult me,” Chloe’s reply was lazy, like she didn’t care. Marinette gave Lila a thumbs up and Lila turned on her heel to get changed.

It was time to see if Marinette was even one-quarter of the designer she made herself out to be.

                                                      *****

She had once prided herself on her ability to read people. It was important to know how to manipulate them once she knew what they wanted, feared, or loved. Marinette had been mostly easy to figure out. She had a strong sense of justice bordering on self-righteousness, was in love with Adrien Agreste and wanted to be a designer like Gabriel Agreste.

Well, she was still self-righteous, had given up on Adrien and Gabriel was a fool for not offering this girl an internship.

Marinette had been right, the dress was perfect for her.

The color made her skin glow and brought out the auburn highlights in her hair. Her olive eyes did indeed pop. The sleeves were too long and the waist didn’t suit her but damn if she wouldn’t ask to take this dress home with her once production was over.

Damn, she couldn’t believe that Marinette Dupain-Cheng of all people was going to humble her into saying the other girl was right.

“Lila? Are you alright? Come on out. I want to check the fit.”

She looked into the mirror one more time and did a twirl for herself. The skirt swirled around her legs nicely. “Coming!”

Lila knew she must look good by the way Chloe’s eyes widened and Marinette clasped her hands together with glee. “You look great!”

Chloe remembered why she was there and began to take pictures. “The dark color really suits a mysterious character like Adler is supposed to be.”

“And the design is sophisticated, like Adler, but still age appropriate. I also chose a material shot with gold thread. It’ll catch the light as you dance.” Marinette noted, even if she seemed surprised Chloe had said anything positive.

Marinette turned her back to Chloe and began asking Lila questions. “How does the fabric feel? Too heavy? Is the hem too long? I adjusted it because your character would probably wear at least low heels to the ball. Is there anything else you’d like to alter?”

Lila was taken aback, not just by the rapid fire questions but the fact she was receiving any positive attention from people she knew hated her. “Um…” she thought for a moment and surprised herself by being honest. “The sleeves are too long. Could I have them cut back to my elbows?”

“Three-quarters instead of full sleeves. Got it.” Marinette made a note on her phone and looked back at Lila expectantly.

Lila pulled at the waist. “Could you take-in the waist? It seems a little loose. I’d really like the dress to enhance my figure a little more. If you don’t mind!” She added hastily. She looked down and tried to appear pitiful to needle the girl. Old habits die hard.

Marinette didn’t take the bait and Chloe didn’t comment. The designer grabbed a few pins from something on her wrist and made adjustments. “How is it now?”

“Yes. It’s a better fit without being too tight.” Lila was impressed; Marinette hadn’t even tried to poke her. “But…it needs something.”

Chloe frowned as she continued to snap photos but Marinette’s brow furrowed in thought. Suddenly she brightened. “A belt! A belt made from cork and then covered with the same material the dress is made from!” The designer’s eyes almost glowed as she thought up ideas. She shook her head and focused on Lila. “Maybe the belt buckle could be covered in crystals…and a matching necklace, maybe some earrings.” She looked at Lila. “Is all that okay with you? I was thinking you could wear your hair up and we could put in some crystal hair accessories. I’m thinking of stars or flowers.”

“Um…flowers,” Lila decided. Requesting stars might make her look egotistical and she didn’t think that was a good idea.

Marinette just made another note in her phone. “That’s it for now. Just take the dress off carefully and hang it up. I’ll get started on the changes in the next few days.”

Lila didn’t go anywhere at first. Instead, she continued to stare at Marinette. Even Chloe stopped taking pictures for a few minutes.

Marinette blinked at the other girl. “Is something wrong? Was there something else you wanted to change?”

“Um,” Lila stammered, and not for effect, “I…I thought you didn’t like me.”

The designer blinked, looking surprised. “Why should that matter right now?” Lila reared back in surprise and waited for the girl to continue.

Chloe put the camera in her lap and flexed her fingers. This could be interesting.

Marinette sighed then took a deep breath to steady herself. “Look, Lila. We’ll probably never be friends.” Because I think you’ve tried to kill me twice. Oh, and there was all that crap you did to me last year. “But I’m a professional. I would never do less than my best for anyone, no matter what our personal relationship might be.”

“Aunt Amelie says a true professional never mixes personal vendettas with work,” Chloe put in.

The other two girls ignored her and Marinette continued.

“Besides, I think acting is a good career path for you,” she almost smiled at Lila, shocking her. “You have some natural charisma, something every actor needs, and to be honest, your acting has improved as production’s gone on.”

Lila blushed despite herself at the praise. Victor and Gio had been giving her acting lessons with some occasional input by Anna. Even Felix would nod in approval after one of her scenes. Now to have the girl she hated praising her? It was amazing and warmed her more than she ever thought it could. It must have killed Marinette to admit Lila was actually good at something, so her good opinion meant more to Lila than anyone else’s.

Lila fiddled with one of her hair ties, an old habit from when she was nervous as a little girl. “Well…I mean, a model’s career can be measured in months, whereas a good actress can work for decades. Like Meryl Streep.”

Chloe snorted. “Uh, please. Don’t compare yourself to her. Slow your roll, Rossi.”

Marinette didn’t comment on what the blonde said but smiled at Lila. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with having a goal or someone you want to emulate.” She chuckled. “And you could definitely do worse than an actress who’s won multiple awards.”

Lila herself would rather compare herself to Catherine Deneuve or Ornella Muti. But the American Actress would do. She refused to admit to herself that she panicked when trying to think of an actress with a long and respected career.

She allowed herself to dream of a better life, one she’d earned and deserved. Something she’d built on her own and couldn’t be taken away from her on Gabriel Agreste’s whim. She didn’t want any of these people’s friendship (except maybe Gio) but she would gladly accept their respect.

It was kind of funny,  she thought later as she was changing, all I had to do was use my natural skills for good and even Marinette Dupain-Cheng would praise me.

Yes…with time and a little work, not to mention a future designer to make her look good, she could finally have it all.

                                                              *****

“Claude? Aren’t you going to come out and show us?”

“Give me a minute, Mari-dear. I’ve never tied a cravat before. This is why men used to have valets to help them dress.”

Claude slid the curtain open and walked out. Only Marinette and Chloe were there as promised. Ostensibly this was to keep the costumes from being leaked online but also Claude was surprisingly shy when it came to trying new things.

“Okay, Claude, so how does it…fit?”

Marinette broke off and stared at Claude. Chloe nearly fumbled her camera but was able to regain her composure before her friend or…Marinette saw that she’d lost it. She started snapping photos as Claude stared at his reflection in the full-length 360 degree mirror.

Claude looked amazing, much better than she could have ever imagined when she dreamed up his design. The dark gray tailcoat had a swallowtail cut and was decorated with three diagonally placed gold buttons that went from the bottom of the lapels to the bottom of the waist. The waistcoat underneath was eggplant purple in a subtle diamond Harlequin pattern with a matching cravat tied in a bow. She had kept the buff colored  trousers simple and plain so they wouldn’t detract from the rest of the outfit. The shirt was simple and white for the same reason.

Marinette couldn’t handle the suspense. “Well?!”

“This…this isn’t anything I’d choose for myself. Not in a million years.” The designer’s shoulders began to droop before Claude hastily added, “But it looks great on me!” He twisted from one side to the other. “I look so…” He lifted his chin. “Elegant and classy. Kind of formal but with style and flare. Purple is Allegra’s color. Did you know that?” He looked at Marinette over his shoulder and smiled before going back to admiring his image in the mirror.

“Yeah. I knew that.” Marinette was relieved to know he liked what he saw. “She told me and I wanted to coordinate your outfits but I also thought the darker purple would bring out your eyes.”

“And you were right!” He approached Marinette as if about to hug her then stopped. “It’s probably not a good idea to hug you while wearing this fancy outfit.”

“I’ll mark you down for a hug later.” She told him and then asked, “how is the fit? Too tight”? Is there anything you don’t like or want adjusted?”

He looked down. “The pants are a little long. I don’t want to trip while wearing them. Could you raise the hem? Maybe a centimeter or so?”

She made a note on her phone. “No problem.”

Chloe gave him a nod of approval. “Looking good, Claude.”

He bowed to her and then straightened. “Wow, this is really easy to move in! I thought it would be all…” He made a vague hand gesture. “Stiff and itchy, and completely black and white.”

Marinette laughed. “We have better fabric than they did back then. Plus, we’re just going for the aesthetic of the time period, not total accuracy.  And the black and white evening wear was more Victorian while your outfit was inspired by Regency fashion. Besides,” she smiled up at him. “You have way too much personality for black and white.”

“That’s more Felix’s style than mine anyway.” Chloe raised a brow at the insult to their friend but didn’t comment.

“Oh! One more thing,” Claude looked nervous  “Could I have a hat? A top hat? That would be cool.”

Marinette pretended to make a note but she was already working on one. “As long as you don’t wear it while dancing.”

He pouted at her but she wouldn’t fall for his big blue eyes. “All right, you’re done. Go change.”

Claude hopped down from the platform but added, “Okay, but don’t forget my hat.”

“Don’t be an ass, Claude,” Chloe told him and then recoiled as she glanced over and realized he hadn’t shut the curtain.

“Gah! I didn’t mean I wanted to see your ass, you exhibitionist!”

                                                  *****

“Wait, you did what?” Allegra paused while dressing. “Why the hell would you do that?”

Marinette glared over at a smug, unrepentant Chloe. The photographer had texted Allegra a sneak peek of Lila’s dress.

Allegra couldn’t believe it. The Italian girl had tried to kill Marinette twice. Both times Felix had nearly been collateral damage. Rossi should be forced to wear the scratchiest dress Marinette could make. Instead the little psycho was being rewarded for her shitty behavior by wearing a damn fine dress for the ball scene.

“Oh wow, Allegra, it’s like I’m a professional designer or something.” Marinette rolled her eyes.

“You’re an intern,” Chloe reminded her.

“An intern creating original costumes for a major motion picture,” Marinette shot back, “so I must be doing something right.”

Chloe raised an eyebrow. Damn, Dupain-Cheng had really found her spine between moving on from Adrien and getting out from under Bustier’s thumb.

“Yeah, but-” Allegra began.

“The point is,” Marinette cut her off and pointed to the door. Chloe nodded. Anyone could be eavesdropping and they couldn’t afford to tip off their prey or cause an akuma if an angry crewmember went after Lila. Again. “I never do less than my best for anyone. I don’t want anyone I design for to look bad, no matter what our personal relationship is.”

Chloe texted Allegra and the other girl dropped the subject. Time to finish dressing anyway.

Allegra wished the dressing room had a mirror but oh well. She slid back the curtain and stepped out. She caught a glimpse of herself in the 360 degree mirror and her jaw dropped.

“Holy shit.”

She wasn’t sure if it were she, Marinette or Chloe who said that. She looked from her reflection to the designer and back again. “You know what? Forget anything I said about you making a nice dress for Lila. Mine is at least four times better.”

“Hell yeah it is,” Chloe picked up her camera and began taking pictures of Allegra from as many angles as she could.

The dress was a strapless lilac organza dress with a tulle overlay. The tulle was artfully draped over the skirt in gentle folds that gave the dress an almost Grecian look. There were also silver dove appliques on the skirt and bodice and gathered at the waist to look like a belt.

Goddammit she was gonna slay. She found herself wishing Alii could see her right now but the kwami was in her locker for safekeeping. She would not risk her being stolen by someone like Lila…or freaking Marinette out with a mini unicorn.

Allegra patted the material of the skirt. “No offense, but…is this supposed to be so stiff and heavy?” She hoped she wasn’t offending Marinette. They were just starting to become some sort of friends and she didn’t want to be the one to screw that up.

Instead of being offended Marinette just grinned. “Look under the flowers around your waist.”

Allegra did and to her surprise, she found a bunch of snaps. She undid each one and the skirt of the dress fell away,  making Allegra glad Marinette had insisted she wear workout shorts under the dress. The underside was full of pockets, some large, some small. One was long and skinny, just the perfect size to hide a sword.

“Elinor is the group’s weapons expert and since you’re expected to fight near the end of the ball scene I thought it would be a good idea for your character to have some built-in weapons pockets. That’s why the dress is as long as it is. She can wear a pair of trousers and some athletic shoes or maybe what the Americans call ‘cargo pants’ so she can carry all her weapons while running or something.”

It was on the tip of Chloe’s tongue to tell Marinette she was brilliant but she wasn’t in the habit of giving compliments to people. Especially someone she used to bully. Fortunately Allegra beat her to it.

“That is completely freaking brilliant!” Allegra praised and Marinette just smiled and shrugged.

“Thanks. The hardest part was making sure the material was sturdy enough to support the weight of anything we put in the pockets and to hide the trousers.” Marinette laughed, pleased to see Allegra appreciated her skills. “At the same time, it had to be light enough so you could move and dance in it.”

Allegra did a twirl and then a few moves she’d seen in a Bik Bok video. “It looks like you succeeded.” She reattached the skirt with Marinette’s and then looked at the other girl as a thought occurred to her. “You know, I think you might consider a degree in architecture or engineering instead of fashion.”

Marinette smiled but also looked thoughtful. “You know, I’ve considered both of those fields. But fashion is what I love right now. I can always change my mind in the future.”

“No, don’t, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe spoke up with a touch of her old snottiness, “become a designer. Save us from the mediocre crap Gabriel has become.”

Marinette burst out laughing. It made Allegra smile to see the other girls bonding, even if she didn’t understand the reference. She knew Felix’s uncle was Gabriel Agreste and he was an asshole but she never really liked his designs. Well, it wasn’t like the Quantic Kids didn’t have their little secrets and in-jokes as well.

Chloe also laughed, a small little chuckle but Allegra still counted it as a laugh. She was glad to see her new friend was trying to overcome her past and be nicer to Marinette. There was also a possibility Marinette could learn to forgive her bully and they could all be friends.

Marinette shook her head. “I used to look up to that man until I got to know him a little better. Besides, why does a world-famous designer…”

“Dress like a giant peppermint stick?” Chloe finished for her and the two girls looked at each other before laughing their asses off.

Allegra grinned and headed back to the dressing room. It was a shame the Heraldry Box was missing so many kwami. She was sure Marinette would have made a great Knight.

                                                      *****

Ivan looked in the 360-degree mirror one more time and did a double bicep pose, admiring his reflection. The leather frock coat with silver thread embroidery made his muscular frame look even more intimidating. Marinette thought the dark silver vest and black shirt looked good on him. She thought adding scrollwork to the hems of the sleeves really made them pop. Ivan would make a beautiful contrast when he danced with Mylene.

Ivan seemed to agree. “I look like a Goth pirate!” He looked down at the vest. “I really like how the buttons are little metal skulls. How did you get Madame Jennings to agree to let you do that?”

She laughed. “Are you kidding? They were her idea.” She grinned at the amazed look on her friend’s face. “She’s a closet death metal fan. I lent her your Vyson CD and she loved it.”

“Wow!” Ivan looked impressed.

She held out a hand. “You look a little stiff.”

He carefully lifted his arms. “It’s a little tight on the shoulders.”

She nodded. “I thought so. It looks like you had another growth spurt. Let me adjust the jacket.”

Marinette re-measured her friend then let him go back into the dressing room. After changing into his street clothes he gave her a smile and the silent Chloe a semi-civil nod before leaving.

She looked over at Chloe. “Do you need a bathroom break? Maybe some water or a snack?”

Chloe just blinked. She knew they were allies against Lila and Felix had started to like Marinette but having her former target be nice to her made her feel awkward, not to mention guilty.

“You don’t have to be nice to me,” she told Marinette. It makes me feel bad.

“I know,” Marinette stuck pins and marked up Ivan’s jacket with dressmaker’s chalk. “But being angry with you all the time wears me out. Besides,” she almost smiled, “I’m on the clock.”

Chloe wasn’t sure how to take what Marinette was saying to her. Was she trying to start a fight or keep the peace? A strong Dupain-Cheng who stood up for herself was still hard to understand. “I’ll take you up on that bathroom break. Don’t get started without me.”

“I won’t,” Marinette promised but the blonde was already out the door.

                                                        *****

Don’t be nervous. It’s a professional fitting, just like Marinette taking your measurements was. Don’t get turned on when she’s just doing her job.

Luka would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit how much he liked having Marinette’s hands on his body, even if it were completely innocent. He thought she might have enjoyed it too, judging by her melody. Still, it wouldn’t be right to make a move without her say-so.

Then again, there was Felix. He could tell the other boy was starting to become close to Marinette and he admitted he liked Felix too. He could see them becoming friends, all of them. But the problem was Felix was starting to harmonize with Marinette and if she chose Felix, Luka would have no choice but to step aside.

Dammit.

He was tired of being the bigger person and just not pursuing what or who he wanted. He’d been understanding when Marinette had a crush on Adrien. He knew she couldn’t help how she felt any more than Luka could. Adrien might have been happy with Kagami but his obliviousness was not only a pain in the ass but wasted a year of Marinette’s life.

He loved her and he wanted her to be happy but he was also tired of waiting around to pursue his own happiness. He didn’t want Marinette to fall for Felix just because he looked like his cousin. Luka wanted to be just a little bit selfish for once in his life.

His feet had taken him to Marinette’s workroom without him realizing he was already there. He didn’t want to knock yet! Not when his own melody was all jumbled and discordant!

Then he had an idea. He’d recorded a new song on his phone earlier that day before even coming to work. He’d play it for Marinette to get her opinion before his fitting. That way he could calm himself. Music always had that power for him.

[chromiusmixin]

{First Awakening || Sweet Cap’n Cakes fic}

{Characters -> Chromius, Axion (Writers’ OCs)}

{A glance into Chromius’ earliest days, just after being constructed by the computiran, Axion.}

====================

In the midst of a laboratory with clean, snow-white walls, decoured in neon-blue lights, the droning sounds of machinery, and the sound of a set of speakers pumping out lo-fi music…

A computiran dressed in a white lab jacket is wrapping up construction of his latest commission work. A curiously-designed musical bot with a focus on hexagonal shapes, decorated effectively head to toe with LED lights, even going as far to span the entirety of its legs. For its vision, a high-spec camera lens smack in the middle of the speaker rim, capable of near-gigapixel resolution and equipped with augmented reality integration.

Securing one last plate of metal into the bot’s chassis, and slipping in some additional small metal pieces into the screw slots to prevent them being accessed at will without special tools…

“...Finished at last. A whole two weeks worth, and edging close to three. The requested files have been transferred, your cooling system is confirmed working, and debugging hardware says you’re ready to go, bud.” The computiran muses to himself than anything, given the construct’s powered-off state. There was only one thing to do now, and its life would begin. The computiran reaches for a gray remote with some backlit buttons and a built-in microphone, placing his thumb onto a speaker button, and through this…

“Chromius, power on.” The computiran speaks, remote held just a bit away from his face. Soon, the low whirring of fans, and the light sloshing of water through an internal liquid cooling system. The LEDs decorating the rim of Chromius’ speaker head soon light up white, circling around and around, in similar manner to some computer loading icons. Then, their lights dim out once more for a short moment, and before anything else can be said- the bot sits up on their own, lights shifting to a full rainbow palette. They move their head around, examining the sights in their immediate vision. Then a few twists of their feet, and self-examining their hands.

Then, the bot sees the computiran in front of them, becoming almost as still as a statue, conveying a blank slate more than a proper emotion. Before the computiran can inquire on anything however, he finds himself halted as the bot speaks.

“Hello. Who are you? Where am I?” The bot inquires, leaning in just a bit to get a closer look at he who has constructed them, much as it’s against their knowledge for now. The computiran draws a smile onto his monitor, nodding. There seems to be no error, as far as he’s concerned. Chromius has awakened without issue, life bestowed upon them proper.

“...I would say ‘hello’ in return. I am Axion, a computiran. You sit upon my work desk in my laboratory, where life is given to each and every construct I create. You are my latest construct, a musical bot with great potential. May you recall your name to me, then?”

And much in line with Axion’s expectation, the musical bot would respond in proper, placing a hand on their chest.

“Chromius. You’re Axion, and this is your laboratory, as you said.” Chromius responds. To Axion, Chromius seems to be about on-pace with most of his other constructs. A bit unnatural sounding on the get-go, but within time, he’s certain the bot will come to develop a personality proper. Ambitions, goals, desires, and a passion for all things good- just like with his other works, he’s got hope in Chromius.

“Indeed. Correct on all three answers. Can you leap off the desk you’re sitting on?” Axion asks of Chromius, taking some steps away from the desk. Seems now they’re being tested, slow and steady being Axion’s approach.

“This is to test your movement systems on a basic level. This should require no effort, I promise. If you can make it over here, then there shouldn’t be any technical problems, and we can continue on.”

Leaning down to see the floor below them, and scooting themself just to the edge of the desk, Chromius hops off with little effort, landing on the ground just fine. Rather than taking the next step with a simple walk however, Chromius opts for a speed-walk instead. This pleases Axion, whose display now draws a checkmark.

“You’ve already got the hang of this, then. You’re catching on at an above average rate. I can see it then, I believe you may have a lot going for you, Chromius.” Axion speaks, expression returning to a smile with closed eyes, as he gives the musical bot a nod. In response, Chromius displays a full set of green lights- seems they’re happy aswell!

“You said we’d continue after this, right? What are we doing next?” Chromius inquires, returning Axion to the subject matter at hand. He scuttles over to his right just a bit, retrieving a clipboard with his usual checklist for fresh-off-the-table constructs.

“Well, we’ve evaluated that your core vital systems are functional. You’ve shown to perform above average as well, most of my other constructs aren’t usually quick to get a move on,” Axion chuckles at the idea. Logically, it runs through his mind that Chromius might be his finest work yet- and given circumstances, he would hope so.

“So I’d ask you some questions to get to know you more. If you could entertain yourself with whatever you’d like, right now, what would you choose?” Axion inquires, ready to write down the bot’s answer. Chromius’ lights shift yellow, ready to answer full steam ahead!

“Let’s watch a lighthearted action film!” Chromius speaks in a beaming manner, prompting Axion to quite literally draw forth a smile onto his face, with another light chuckle.

“Good enough, we’ll stop with the one question for now. To the entertainment center, then.”

<><><><><><><><><><>

Axion log - “Chromius, Day 1”

Chromius is coming around rather quickly. Within the first hour, a fairly neutral personality with no real identifying characteristics to make them stand out. Just the hour and two after, Chromius grew to enjoy action films, usually of the ‘parental guidance’ [PG] age rating. It didn’t take long after before they started to become curious of the other means of entertainment within the room. Before I knew it, I was supervising Chromius around the audio equipment and instruments, the free-use personal computers and the available video game systems. Next thing I knew it, me and Chromius were locked into fierce combat in a high octane racing game, and fun times were had. Inevitably however, my power supply was reaching critical levels, and I had to escort Chromius to their bedroom, whereupon they were quick to get a good night’s rest.

__________

“Chromius, Day 2”

Chromius had woken up rather early today. So much so that the morning sun hadn’t risen, the time of waking was 6:00 AM. Some generations back, musical bots were not designed to feel as broad of a range of feelings as auditorians can, but we’re past those times so as to make living as authentic as it can be for them. Suffice to say, Chromius had also woken up in a less than enthusiastic mood. Sure enough, me and Chromius had a bit of a dispute when I had taken my usual demeanor in regards to the effects of poor sleep hours. This was remedied half an hour later when the two of us paid a visit to the kitchen, whereupon I offered a classic breakfast meal. The meal in question, scrambled eggs, hash browns and bacon. Surpassing usual expectation, Chromius suggested I put the eggs and bacon on some slices of bread they had seen. They were insistent on calling it the ‘Sunrise Sandwich.’

Though unorthodox for me to integrate the ability to consume food into a musical bot of such design, they seemed happy to enjoy tasteful delights such as their sandwich. They were even moreso glad to take glasses of water, provided I cooled them using the world’s magic resource. Muse, it’s far too early for me to explain it to them yet. For all of their existence, they had only heard video game background music drowned out by various sounds and the droning ambience of this very establishment.

Speaking of video games, I had introduced them to more mind-oriented brain teasers. As others would call them though, puzzle games. Lucky I was then to have a game that was more a compilation of two games. Two different falling tile puzzle games, one where rows must be filled and one where matching-colored pieces need to be connected to create chain reactions. Chromius caught on at an astounding rate, and was quick to outperform both me and maximum-level artificial intelligences powered by the games. Chromius is truly remarkable.

<><><><><><><><><><>

Then came the third day. Though day two was just about as smooth sailing as the first, despite a slightly less pleasing morning, perhaps that was an omen for hardships to come. Chromius wakes once more, just after the morning sun’s rising at around seven in the morning. For the first time, their mood lights, usually green, yellow or the default rainbow… were instead blue. Chromius just sat there at the edge of their bed for a good ten minutes, arms crossed as they hunch over, looking down. Another two minutes pass before Axion welcomes himself into the musical bot’s room, after which he’s on alert in response to Chromius’ unusual demeanor.

“Chromius, what ails you? You can talk to me.”

No dice. Chromius just turns away, not making the slightest of sounds. Thoughts process within Axion’s mind, and pretty quickly at that, as he formulates possible answers in regards to the current situation. Either way his mind goes though, his next outward move is to sit himself on the edge of Chromius’ bed, next to the bot.

“Chromius, again, what ails you? I must know, it appears to be bothering you quite so, and I’d get to the bottom of resolving this.” Axion persists with getting something out of Chromius, who slowly glances over to Axion, stating something that would confirm the worst has come.

“...I never got to see them. Not even once…” Chromius speaks, dreary as they have ever been in their life up to this point, lifting their legs back onto their bed, assuming fetal position. It would appear Chromius has realized and recalled something within their memory, something that is undoubtedly haunting them more than anything. It’s as Axion feared, much against what he had hoped for his construction. Thus, he comes up with some suggestions that he would hope to use to stir the robot out of their deep emotional chasm.

“Why don’t we try to play another video game? Would you perhaps enjoy watching another…”

Before Axion can finish that second suggestion, or anything else for that matter, Chromius pulls their blanket back onto themself, shifting onto the side facing away from Axion.

“...Not today… I want to be alone.” Chromius requests of Axion, to where the computiran attempts to converse against the idea.

“This is troubling you so, and deeply so. I would try to…” Cut off once again by the musical bot.

“I doubt anything will help. Please leave me alone, Axion.” And before the computiran can try to speak any further words, the lights on Chromius’ speaker rim fades to an off state. Sleep mode before he could get out any other words. Against his dismay, Chromius is taking it much worse than he would have predicted. Yet, despite his pleadings all those weeks ago, he was shut down on alternatives. This was what was asked of him, and he had rolled with it, what may be one of the toughest to deal with decisions he had made in his life.

And both he and Chromius were suffering the consequences.

“...I let them do this, despite the pre-emptive separation it would have implored. They were persistent, and yet, I didn’t push any harder than what I had that day. Chromius… I’m sorry.”

<><><><><><><><><><>

Axion Log - “Chromius, Days 3 - 5”

Chromius has been silent for at least ninety percent of the time elapsed since that encounter, and three fifths of that time spent in sleep mode. The few times Chromius would speak, naught more than short sentences would be parsed through their sound driver. Rarely were they feeling it for a full conversation, let alone any activities, sometimes even opting out of self-care. Though it would be the moral option for Chromius to know their parents in some form, I should have considered this. There’s no doubt about it, I have messed up in neglecting to tell Chromius earlier, and these are the consequences of my negligence.

This is a rare moment in which I have felt significant guilt. Thus, did I try to just drop my shoulder joints just a bit, and converse with Chromius. Not as a tutor or instructor, but a caretaker, with the scientifics and acts of training put aside. If anyone can show Chromius that things are going to be alright, who else for it to be than the one who constructed them?

On Day 5, after sundown, I had invited Chromius over for a harmless movie night, hosted by an animated film. They were unenthused, as fate would have it, thus did I try to strike a conversation and vent their feelings out. They had a lot to say, and seemed to want to express the same tear-drenched sorrow that Auditorians express under great plight. Thus did I do what parental figures would- comforting them, reassuring them, and giving them a much needed hug.

Next I knew it, only ten minutes later did Chromius opt for sleep mode once again, while resting on my side. This is… the most affection I’ve felt for a creation of mine since my duties began.

<><><><><><><><><><>

…Shortly after the journal’s written for the night, Axion sees himself back to the selfsame couch that Chromius had zonked out on, giving himself a night’s reprieve, staying by Chromius’ side. Whatever comforts the other bot in such troublesome times, he would do. What that translated to, was returning the favor and leaning on Chromius’ own side.

It was the least Axion could do, is be there for them.

…

Eventually, dawn breaks, and out of the two bots, Chromius is the first to awaken from sleep, finding that they’ve opted to use Axion’s lap as a pillow. As for Axion? Leaning way back onto the couch, still as a statue. This wouldn’t do though- far as as Chromius was aware, Axion’s a very busy man, and he needed to wake up, and this prompts Chromius into poking him.

“Ugh. I’m up, I’m… hmm. Chromius?” Axion speaks, just a tad confused.

“...O…. Oh. Um… s… sorry… just, thought you had, um… stuff to do…” Chromius speaks, seeming more sheepish than anything. That mattered not though, Axion merely shook his head.

“Not to worry. Today’s an off day, my workspace is closed today. I have some other matters to attend to today, some… you-oriented matters.” Axion speaks, which only served to confuse Chromius. What the heck was that supposed to mean?

“Me oriented? ...Axion, what does that mean.” Well, Chromius had him there. Axion mocks a throat-clearing sound.

“Oh, that is to say, I will be focusing on you today. This whole scenario, I can see it with every transistor of my being. You’re struggling on an emotional level, greatly. I… I mean to apologize about not informing you of your parents’ decision earlier. I didn’t think I could make it come naturally… and, it was the first case of my dealing with such a scenario.”

Chromius’ lights shift blue. Oh, right… the parents. The ones that they never got to see, and they’re now being confronted about it. If they could, they’d shed a few tears, but they just go quiet for a solid minute, before speaking.

“...’Least you said it eventually. Axion… why’d they leave before I ever got to see them? Why would they do that?! What good did that…!” Before Chromius could finish, Axion places a hand onto their left shoulder.

“...I would try to explain their motives. For what little time I knew them… it sounded like they were struggling. Whether or not it was poor foresight, they found themselves unable to coexist with you while also keeping what is to be your home in possession. The last I understood from them before that fateful day, they had placed all your hopes in you, that you would make them proud. They gave up their lives, so that you may have a fighting chance for your own.”

Axion soonafter found himself sitting down, coming down with remorseful guilt. Chromius’ parents can word it like that all they want, and however true it might be- still, he thought there could be another agreed upon option.

“They didn’t want you born into a life of misery. A life with no roof over your head. But…”

In the midst of his words, Chromius sat down next to the computiran, derailing his little dialogue. He glances over, to see Chromius scooted quite close to him.

“...You tried, Axion. I can tell. I’m not gonna kill you over it. If I know a thing from breaking down like I have… I’m sure you get it too.” Chromius sighs, leaning onto Axion. Took the words out of his mouth, he’s left speechless for a good, hard minute before he can come to his next idea. Maybe now was the time Chromius got to see what was outside. Not out of this room- but the building as a whole. If there was a time for Chromius to see the world they inhabit, it was now.

“Chromius,” Axion glances at the musical bot, “Come with me.”

The computiran speaks, once more pushing himself out of his seat, taking Chromius’ left hand before an objection could be made. Just like that, Chromius was being led down a path through the building they had not yet trekked through. Eventually, one last door, and Axion opened it up.

The air of the outside world breezes inward, brushing against the two mechanical beings. Outside, the morning sky that Chromius had never seen before, azure in color. Furthermore, accompanying the sky- an unnatural, green grid pattern slowly scrolling across the skies.

This was it, this was the world Chromius inhabited, and this was their first glance at it. The sky keeps the bot’s attention, their camera-lens eye fixated on the grid pattern spanning down to the far-off horizons.

“...” Silence from Chromius. They could only continue to look at the sky above and beyond, and likewise for the cityscapes far in the distance, and the bits of nature accompanying them.

“...This is the world I inhabit. This is what my parents wanted me to survive in. To live in. To one day live a far-reaching life, even. But…” However, what would’ve come next was interjected by Axion. He had a feeling of what was to come.

“But how?... This is precisely why your parents wanted your very body to be one with great potential. From what I gathered: They wanted a child who has potential to greatly exceed expectations. The best that they could’ve resulted with. I have a feeling you’re quite special, Chromius. You just have to prove to Cyber World that you are what you can potentially be.”

Chromius looks straight ahead, no longer up at the sky above. They’re left to explore their thoughts, and are very much doing so. Axion nods, giving Chromius the time they need, sitting himself down on the grass just off to his side.

…A few minutes pass.

“...Axion. I’ve decided for myself. Maybe my parents cared after all. No- in fact, they did care. I don’t think I can entirely agree with their rationale on how they handled things, but- this is the world they would’ve wanted me to have a good impression from the get-go.” Chromius speaks, now harboring just a bit better the mindset their parents had. A nod from Axion would assure the musical bot that this was the outlook he had hoped to see.

“You’re ready to start your life in earnest then, I take it? Your parents left you a nice home, what they told me. You have the information in your database to take care of basic necessities already, but once I drop you off at home, Chromius… I won’t be readily available anymore. What adventures follow, will be for you to figure out.” Axion details, awaiting Chromius’ answer. A moment to process the thought, and then, an answer.

“...I’m ready, I think. If you and my parents believe in me, then I should believe in myself. I’m a bit scared, but- I think I can make this work.” Chromius confirms. Axion takes this as confirmation, standing up and extending an arm to his creation.

“Well then, this is where your journey really begins. I’ll take you to your home, and no fears. If you need help at any point, I’m usually one call away.” The computiran offers. 

A moment of hesitancy, as Chromius verges on a second though, pulling back an arm, before a determined nod, and taking Axion’s hand.

…Some hours pass. It’s partway into the afternoon before Axion is leading Chromius out of his headquarters, up to his method of transportation. A four-wheeled automobile, or- you could just call it a car. The car is lined with multiple strips of neon lights around the vehicle, multiple exhaust pipes and wheels seemingly made to handle almost any terrain type.

“Open the driver and passenger doors, A-810.” Axion speaks, the car actually following through with his command, much to Chromius’ surprise, who jumps back in shock.

“Be not afraid, Chromius. It won’t hurt you, promise.” Axion speaks, to which Chromius is able to drop their shoulders. Guess multiple machines such as this… thing, may even be talkative. Regardless of being told the car wouldn’t hurt them, they’re a bit hesitant at first to hop in. Once inside, the interior is equally as fancy as the outside, moreso even. The nicest seats one could ever claim, a dashboard that looks like it moreso belongs on a ship, the interior lights- it only drove further home the kind of world Chromius lived in. A world significantly developed.

Soonafter, Axion is seated, and the doors automatically slide closed for the two.

“We leave at once. We should be there in about thirty minutes.” Axion states, before the vehicle is on its way, driving in a fully automated manner.

…

<><><><><><><><><><>

Axion Log - “Chromius, Day 6”

My last day housing Chromius had come. It had taken me some time, but they were able to find their footing despite tangled emotions. Another construct is off to live its life now, but to say this is the end of my time with Chromius is a significant stretch. I doubt this to be the last I’ll see of the musical bot, and perhaps even just the first of my interactions with them. There’ll no doubt be multiple hurdles that’ll see them back in my place, and I welcome the idea. I’ve been compassionate about my previous creations, but Chromius, they feel like a special case. For a little while, it felt like… having a child I could call my own. Father-son type interactions I had not felt this closely since my waking days.

Chromius, you might have a lot on your shoulders, and at first, things may seem hopelessly tough. However, I believe you’re going to do some truly remarkable things, and most importantly: I believe you’d make your parents proud.

Good luck, and best wishes, Chromius. Make me proud. Make the Cyber World proud.

<><><><><><><><><><>

[lnl-diving-service-pokemon]

A video titled "Diving Special Iceberg A-sm16p - Song of Dragons heard"

[the video is shot from Cay's BCD, likely from a go-pro or other small, durable camera. Another diver, likely Hayako, is investigating a bunch of large ice crystals blocking off a tunnel further into the iceberg. Throughout this first part of the video, an eerie noise can be heard coming from somewhere nearby.

Cay briefly turns to look at a large Sealeo swimming in the small globe of ice with them, making sure the pokémon was still okay with their presence before turning back to her dive partner.

Hayako has pulled out a dive slate, and written "sounds from deeper in. No chance to break through"

Cay gives a sign of affirmation, pulls out her own slate, and pauses. "Idea" and points to the large mammal still lazily floating around the cave.

Swimming over to the blocked passage, she motions for Hayako to move away. Pulling her diving whistle out, she faces the seal pokémon and waves it through the water.

The trill of the whistle caught the attention of the Sealeo, identifying it as the call of a rival or perhaps prey. It swam quickly, charging energy for a Take Down attack. Cay dodges out of the way, dropping one of her weights and twisting up and away from the ice-type.

It slams into the crystals, snapping even the thickest of them at the base. It shakes off the hit, slightly annoyed but no longer aggressive now that the whistle was put away.

Cay turns to Hayako, giving an "Okay" sign. Hayako shakes her head before swimming over and taking the lead further into the iceberg.

The tunnel opened into a large cavern that leads all the way back to the surface within the iceberg. Huge pillars of ice make it feel like a frozen temple.

At the other end of the cavern, a small, black and white Finizen swam in tired circles, occasionally letting out chirps that echo and distort around the ice.

Hayako points at Cay, then at the pokémon, and then signs distress. Help it calm down.

Cay pulls out the Pulsar as she approaches the Finizen. An edit appears onscreen, stating "This is a medical device, it just administers a mild calming agent and potion to the patient." The gun-like device lights up an array of LEDs denoting charge. Aiming it at the dolphin pokémon, she pulls the trigger. Three pulses of light strike the pokémon, and it calms down enough to properly regain its bearings. It chitters happily as it swims around the two humans.

A sudden loud sound is heard, maxing out the levels on the camera's microphone, although it does seem to shift pitch melodically. Both divers clutch their heads as the sound permeates the area. As soon as it passes, they both pull out their slates.

"came from everywhere"

"song of dragons??"

Cay gives a thumbs up, the sign to surface. Hayako okays it and they swim back down to the tunnel as the sound returns and the video cuts.]

[malbecmusings]

I don't get political on here, but sometimes...

Police should be able to spy on suspects by remotely activating the camera, microphone and GPS of their phones... but only when justified, sez French lawmakers.

The very thing they (and we) have been doing in secret for years (Slate, 2013) (CNN, 2014) (ACLU, 2018) they now want to codify into law. Privacy? Oh, she's been dead for years.

I wonder at what point we'll be forced to admit that neither liberal or conservative politicians have our best interests at heart, but their own - the retention of individual and State power, at our expense, I should add.

The loan forgiveness, social engineering, and patriotic security-of-the-State bones they throw out to placate us are merely distractions - modern day bread and circuses - to keep us fighting each other instead of their collective corruption and unabated assault on our liberties.

Something something inconveniences of too much liberty vs none whatsoever. 🤷🏻‍♂️

[aeoki]

Phantom Airship - Epilogue 1

Location: Phantom Airship Characters: Sora, Natsume, Tsumugi, Hiiro, Aira, Mayoi & Tatsumi

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ< The “Phantom Airship”. After clearing the “Last Island”. >

Hiiro: Hehe. We’ve finally collected all of the “treasures”!

All that’s left is to take this “treasure” back and the “Phantom Airship” is completed.

Tatsumi: Thinking back, it felt like quite a long time or perhaps a short time… It was filled with many new surprises.

Aira: Yeah. It was so much fun ♪

Well, I showed a lot of embarrassing sides to myself, though. Maybe I should ask the editing team to cut them out of the actual episode.

Mayoi: I also spoke of an audition that hasn’t been made public, so I hope they’ll understand and leave that bit out.

I fully embarrassed myself on “Monster Island”, to the point I don’t think I can watch it afterwards, but so I’m sure they won’t keep those parts in…

In any case, the condition to clear the game is to show the fruits of our journey to the fairies who guided us along the way, right?

We ran into a few obstacles, but I’m feeling a bit sad to see that we’ll be leaving this place.

But we can’t always stay in the game world. Many troubles surely came our way but we must return to reality.

Tatsumi: Yes. Shame and regret are two emotions we cannot avoid as long as we’re alive. Let us convert that sin into kindness and give love to others – I’m sure that’s a good way to live our lives.

Aira: Ehehe. You sound like a clergyman in this world too, Tattsun-senpai.

Alrighty, then I guess I’ll think of my experiences here in a positive light as well. “Facilitators”, can you come out?

Natsume: “Well doNE, travellers from another worLD.”

“Did you collect all seven ‘treasures’ as per our requeST?”

Sora: “Please show them to us!”

Hiiro: Indeed. They’re all here. Will this do?

Sora: “Yes, thank you so much! We can restore our magical powers with them now~♪”

Tsumugi: “That’s right. Thanks to you all, we can undo the seal on our magical powers.”

“Now, the world is in our grasp, Sora-kun, Natsume-kun ♪”

Tatsumi: Hmm…? What do you mean? Can you tell us in detail?

Tsumugi: “Ahaha. It’s exactly as the words mean.”

“We’re grateful to you all, really. We were turned into tiny fairies, but thanks to your help, we can retrieve our magical abilities with the power of the ‘treasure’.”

Sora: “HaHa~♪ You didn’t expect us to be the final boss, right?”

“We’re actually evil ‘magicians’ who are trying to take over this virtual world!”

Aira: E-Evil “magicians”...!? Wait, so you’re actually the bad guys!?

Natsume: “What’s good or bad all depends on how you see thinGS. We’re from the darkness so we’re different from you who hail from the ligHT.”

“If you still want to stop uS, then use your full strength to do sO.”

Ɨ’łł ȺnnɨħɨłȺŧɇ ɏøᵾ Ⱥłł – nøŧ ɇvɇn Ⱥ sɨnǥłɇ søᵾł wɨłł ƀɇ łɇfŧ sŧȺnđɨnǥ ♪

Hiiro: ……! What can we do to stop them?

Aira: Look, Hiro-kun! The “treasures” are shining!

Hiiro: You’re right. The microphone we got from the “Last Island” is emitting a bright light…

Tatsumi: The stone slate we got from “Giant Island” is also shining with them. I wonder if it’s telling us to defeat the “magicians” with the song Leo-san made.

Mayoi: Hmm. It sounds rather preposterous and unbelievable…

The final boss suddenly appearing is a classic RPG event, so my sentimentality has gone straight out the window…!

Tatsumi: Hehe. But we’ve overcome so many challenges. Surely it must mean we’ve also obtained enough power to save the world – enough to bring this story to an end.

Let us sing the song we obtained from Leo-san’s trial and let our voices ring.

Now, join me, everyone.

“♪~♪~♪”

Hiiro: Hehe. Enough power to save the world, huh. I think it’s too much power for us, but maybe we’ve grown big enough to change this small virtual world.

Just like how I was captivated by “Trickstar” during their “SS” performance, perhaps even I have the ability to change someone’s feelings when they see our performance.

If that’s the case, then I’ll use the new footwork I learnt at “Miniature Island” to dance gracefully.

“♪ ♪ ♪”

Aira: Me too – I won’t give in to my anxiety! I’ve come all this way so I’ll definitely complete the “Phantom Airship”...!

If the four of us in “ALKALOID” are together, then I’m sure we can save the world! I’ll sing with those feelings in mind ♪

Mayo-san, there’s no time to be dallying here. We’ve gotta show them how much we’ve grown too!

Aira: We’ve gotta prove it to them as a member of the up-and-coming newbie unit “ALKALOID” who made it all the way to the “SS” main battle ♪

Let’s save the world! With the power of love!

I loveee ☆

“♪~♪~♪”

Mayoi: Up-and-coming unit… you’re right, Aira-san ♪

I also shouldn’t remain so humble.

Hearing your wonderful and adoring voices has made me realise that we still have a long way to go, even though we’ve levelled up after experiencing “SS”.

Take a step forward and you can change the world – that’s how it made us feel.

Mayoi: Everyone, please watch us.

As long as we have the determination to face our difficulties, we “ALKALOID” can sing and dance the most brilliantly out of anyone in the whole world…♪

“♪~♪~♪”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[glowingadmirer]

Favorite H quote of Venice panel for DWD:

INT: I’d like to include the cast in how was to enter this world which is very much between reality and stylization, and maybe we can start with you, Harry.

H: Is this…[messing with microphone buttons] Um, yeah, I think it was, it’s fun to kind of get to play in worlds that aren’t necessarily your own, um, so kind of, you know, this world that’s supposedly so perfect, it’s um, it’s obviously really fun to play kind of pretend in it, and you know, it’s like driving fun cars, and a lot of fun stuff. 

So I think, uh, it’s kind of just nice to, like, I think we were looking to have that world kind of built so well around us that it meant we could kind of play, um, kind of in reality for us rather than like pretending that everything was, you know, nice, or…. It wasn’t too much like acting, I don’t think, in terms of in the world that you’re in, it was really kind of created very well for us, so that was really fun.

Gemma Chan attempts to rescue, says she agrees with Harry, and praises everyone – “set design, hair and makeup, cinematographers” except the director.

Chris Pine: pokes at his tongue, stares at ceiling, wills himself to be vanished, then gives a very thoughtful answer

It’s funny, but at the same time it isn’t.  Because it’s yet ANOTHER piece of evidence of Harry’s team’s mismanagement - and his own complacency in it. Harry’s team’s preferred strategy of having him prevaricate and be a blank slate for everyone to fill in the blank with their own fantasy. Radio DJs and music mags usually fill in the blanks for him and tease him, so it comes off as charming. Here, that strategy makes him appear “adorably slow” and certainly unprepared to be taken seriously.  At some point, if Harry wants to be taken seriously, he’s going to need to give more than pleasantly vague word salad answers. 

[angstics]

“It doesn’t get stuck in your head; it haunts you”—We preview MCR’s unreleased ‘Black Parade’ demos

Jason Pettigrew | Published: September 9, 2016 | AltPress

My Chemical Romance fans won’t have long to wait until the release of The Black Parade/Living With Ghosts, the hotly anticipated reissue of the band’s classic 2006 album. Slated for release Sept. 23, the set will include a second disc of demo/rehearsal recordings made at the Paramour mansion in Los Angeles’ Silverlake area, where the band moved to write and record the album. During these rehearsal and writing sessions, producer Rob Cavallo and engineer Doug McKean were there, documenting the process as it happened by recording everything that was being worked on. It’s those tapes from whence the 11 tracks on Living With Ghosts were culled

“The way I work, the number one rule is ‘the “record” light is always on,’” says Cavallo. “In the case of The Black Parade, I had Doug set up a small Pro Tools rig and six to eight really good microphones. While we were setting up things, you can get some insight into the creative process. You hear these songs in their embryonic stage.” The producer is quick to add that what you hear on Ghosts wasn’t “fixed” up with post-production effects: The tapes were mastered for volume levels “so it wouldn’t sound anemic. We are giving it to the fans the way we heard it. We spent eight to 10 nights [taping]. The 11 songs on the disc are culled from 23. There has to be 400 hours of recordings.”  He begins to laugh. “I don’t know who wants to listen to 400 hours of this stuff! But [My Chemical Romance] picked the right tracks.”

We can tell Mr. Cavallo exactly who would want to listen to 400 hours of that stuff: Pretty much any fan of the band. Living With Ghosts is a glimpse into MCR’s creative process unlike anything to which fans have previously had access, stripping away some of the mystery in MCR’s writing process. One could argue that isn’t a good thing when considering the very personal experiences fans often have with the band’s music. But as often as fans want to build their own narrative into MCR’s work, they also want to psychoanalyze it and theorize about the songs’ intended meanings and inspirations. For the diehards, playing “spot the difference” between the roughs and the finals will be a truly enlightening treasure hunt.

In turning the key and entering this previously shrouded world, it’s easiest to notice patterns by their absence in the final recordings. There are are either one or several female characters in the demos who don’t seem to appear on the final album, for example. And themes of abandonment loom heavy over the forsaken tracks on Ghosts—a sentiment that isn’t nearly as pronounced in the finalized album.

“House Of Wolves (Version 1)” is one such example of the overwhelming theme. A sombre song that could easily fit on Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge both tonally and lyrically, this version of “Wolves” could very well function as an epilogue to the Demolition Lovers story arc. In it, Gerard Way frantically begs, “Don’t leave me here/Don’t walk away/Let me die in this House Of Wolves/Pray for my soul…” There’s a palpable urgency for contrition, draped in the Catholic imagery fans will have associated MCR with before the release of The Black Parade. By contrast, the second version of the song is nearly true to the finished version. (“I never did know why we had two songs with the same title,” says Cavallo. [Ray Toro and Frank’s Iero’s] approaches are totally different and that’s what made [the band] different. If you isolate the guitar tracks, you can hear them smashing into each other.”) In version two, there’s a bit of bite that didn’t make the final cut when Way snarls, “I want to see you burn in Hell” rather than “I think I’m gonna burn in Hell.”

And there’s more anger where that came from—a lot of it, especially on the rough version of “Kill All Your Friends.” In its raw form, the song that would become a B-side is lyrically more bitter and on target in its disdain toward small-town thinking. (The “you’ll never take me alive” chant toward the end of the song was originally, “You’ll never get me alone/You’ll never take me back home.”) It’s clear in many of the songs that as their creation progressed, concepts became more abstract, and melodies and cadences that were awkwardly placed previously found their appropriate homes.

Then there were the songs that never quite found themselves at all. “Party At The End Of The World” reveals just what might turn a decent song into a scrapped one. It doesn’t have the grandeur and guts of the final album. It’s just a song. And no MCR songs are just songs. “Not That Kind Of Girl,” which, as a whole, never saw the light of day, features parts that almost certainly were to be resurrected for the writing of the Conventional Weapons song, “Gun.”

“All The Angels,” on the contrary, could have fit very well on The Black Parade. “It’s a joy that was thematically in line with [the vibe of the album] but for reasons unknown, did not make the final cut,” Cavallo says. The song is a slow-building and painfully realistic death narrative akin to “Cancer.” However, what it has that “Cancer” doesn’t is a repeating and powerful phrase to latch onto: “All the angels say/You are all to blame/All the angels say/You are all the same.” It demonstrates how catchiness, when paired with sadness, doesn’t get stuck in your head—it haunts you.

But, if there is any one song that truly demonstrates just how dark things got during the recording of the album, it’s “Emily.” Much like “Bulletproof Heart” from Danger Days: The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys, it explores the concept of a missing person, but there’s nothing upbeat nor lighthearted in its delivery. Listening to it is nearly chilling. It is, without competition, My Chemical Romance’s darkest song. Though Cavallo ponders the memories the song would conjure wouldn’t be so painful. “It’s a real cool song that I’m glad everyone gets to hear in this form. The purpose of this record is to include people into what was happening at the time. I would imagine the guys listening to this and going, ‘Hey, remember…’ and then fit [the song] together in the end. They thought their fans would [enjoy that], too.

“My Chemical Romance were really great young men going through what they were going through,” he resigns. “There was such great chemistry. When you have great rock ’n’ roll to record, you can just feel it in your bones.”

[xe-company]

SUN SOOAH [SEVENTEEN + SOLOIST] PROFILE & FACTS

➢ BASICS:

STAGE NAME: Soonah

BIRTH NAME: Sun Alurra

KOREAN NAME: Sun Sooah

NATIONALITY: Korean-American

BIRTH PLACE: Brooklyn, New York

BIRTHDAY: November 22nd, 1998

ZODIAC SIGN: Sagittarius

HEIGHT: 158 cm (5’2″)

WEIGHT: 49 kg (108 lbs)

BLOOD TYPE: B

➢ SOCIAL MEDIA

INSTAGRAM: @ soonah_or_later

TWITTER: @ ahlurra.sunnie

YOUTUBE: N/A

➢ GROUP INFORMATION

GROUP: SEVENTEEN

SUB UNIT: Hip Hop Unit / Vocal Unit

POSITION: Sub Vocalist, Face of the Group, Sub Rapper

FACE + VOICE CLAIMS: Jamie [Soloist]

➢ FACTS

Her parents almost named her Evelia; but now they use it as a nickname (VLIVE). 

She joined SEVENTEEN during late 2018/early 2019

Respective Emoji: 🐍 [SNAKE] / 🐿 [CHIPMUNK]

Her chipmunk emoji is fan designated since she often takes selcas with her cheeks puffed out; she chose snake as her emoji based on her charming appearance. 

She shares the same birthday as Woozi, he hates loves it. 

She has dual citizenship in Korea and America. 

She is a member of the collab group M.O.L.A. with Nathan (Producer), Vernon of SEVENTEEN, Kino of PENTAGON, and Woodz (Seungyoun) of UNIQ.

Hate having to do aegyo

Microphone color: Chrome Dark Red / Chrome Slate Grey

She was formerly apart of XECOMPANY’s predebut group PLAYGIRLS/PL4YG1RL5.

She can fluently speak Korean and English; prefers to speak in English as it’s easier since she doesn’t have to translate anything.

When she was young she learned Thai boxing and Taekwondo (WEEKLY IDOL).

When she was seven her parents got divorced as her father took her with him to live in Korea

She love body modifications; has multiple piercings and tattoos.

Former JYP trainee [2014 - 2016]. 

She debuted as a soloist in 2020. 

She has a sweet tooth.