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mr-president · 11 months

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i think one of my favorite o’saa character moments (other than the confession booth scene ofc) is the bookstore scene bc there it becomes incredibly apparent how close-minded someone supposedly seeking enlightenment can be, especially regarding emotion/compassion

i say this bc it a) shows just how much of an sad pretentious bitch he actually is (karin LITERALLY calls him a “sad man”) and b) it serves as criticism to those in academia/scholarship in an “apply your politics/philosophies to people sort of way”

like, he criticizes a fucking bookstore as a method of “escapism,” as if the fictional world writers create is completely removed from reality, when in fact fiction and stories have always been a tool to help people understand their reality better. fiction can be raw escapism but it often helps us understand our emotions, other people/cultures, and what’s wrong with a little escapism if it even helps you a little bit? that’s not to say he’s wrong—if you want to understand the world then perhaps it is best to see it for yourself—but o’saa doesn’t consider how not everyone had the same options he did, has his willingness to abandon everything in pursuit of a greater goal.

o’saa wants so desperately to understand the world better than anyone else that he completely forgoes the fact that emotions are just as much a guiding factor in the world as any “magic”/science he studies to further his understanding of it. what he views as “reality” is just one aspect of it; yes, gods do in fact control the world and influence it, but that’s only on the most macro scale. but the mundane, arguably, affects peoples lives even more, and isn’t it worthy to understand that as well?

the confession booth scene shows that he’s capable of understanding the emotions of others, but the bookstore scene reveals that there’s a level of elitism to his beliefs and philosophy.

in other words, though he’s a genius, o’saa lacks compassion.

this can be said for a lotta the enlightened souls that we’ve seen actually—nas’hrah’s a complete bastard, valtei can suck my balls, and enki’s a bitch. only nosramus is quite friendly, and he’s also the only one to figure out true enlightenment on his own.

anyway back to o’saa and the bookstore. all of the other playable characters call him out on his bullshit because stories have the power to help people, change them, or even save them. o’saa, in his mad quest for enlightenment, hasn’t really changed as a person, has he? he himself says in his intro that ever since he left home, he hasn’t felt a genuine emotion. that allows him to see how religion manipulates masses of people, to relentlessly pursue enlightenment without worldly ties—

but the bookstore scene shows that you kinda need “worldly ties” to achieve enlightenment because as nosramus said, the world is constantly changing and enlightenment is not one sudden change. rather, it is continuous, and you have to consider everything.

and i like to think that in that moment, getting shat on by his party members about his shitty literary opinions, he maybe realized something like that.

he doesn’t have a nosramus to anchor his pretentiousness like enki did, but i think a lotta the themes of funter (fear & hunger: termina) is how relationships formulate and change people.

o’saa didn’t need nas’hrah, he needed someone to tell him that he’s a stupid pretentious little shit and to stop drawing himself as a mary sue. and then be his friend anyway and listen to his batshit insane conspiracy theories (that are true).

tldr; he’s like me when i was 11 basically.

#actually i haven’t changed much since i was 11 other than becoming even more gay and annoying #fear and hunger termina #o’saa #mr president’s state of the union address

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mahoushojo · 4 months

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I absolutely loved cosplaying as Karin Uzumaki at New York Comic Con this past fall. I felt so hot and fierce as her. 🥰🔥

Karin is my favourite Naruto gal, so I'm really happy that I was able to bring her to a handful of events last year. I'm so happy with how her top turned out. Thanks to @iron-rose-revolution-blog's help, I was able to pull this cosplay together for Anime NYC 2022, and I have plans to wear Karin to more conventions this year.

There were a lot of awesome displays throughout the Javits Center too, which is always one of my favourite parts about Comic Con! I adored the giant Kurama next to the Naruto booth and was so happy I got the chance to take some photos next to it!

Thank you so much to @knockoffcheeto for hanging out with me on NYCC Thursday and for being my photographer! I had such a blast spending my day with you. 🫶

#naruto #naruto: shippuden #karin #karin uzumaki #akatsuki #cosplay #new york comic con #nycc #new york comic con 2023 #nycc 2023

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sjsmith56 · 9 months

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It Takes Two

Summary: Recently divorced Jillian meets up with friends at a bar then changes her mind. Bumping into a handsome man he convinces her to go inside. They dance then he brings her a drink and learn they have a surprising connection.

Length: 2.35K

Characters: Jillian, her friend Marla, Bucky Barnes, his friend Steve

Warnings: self-doubt, worry about weight, still hurting from divorce, talk of suicide, hint of alcohol abuse.

Author notes: Set in AU, told in third person. Main female character is named and described (sorry, I’ve tried but I just can’t write worth shit in x reader format). Except for Bucky’s admission of contemplating suicide and the pain both characters still feel about their divorces the mood is pretty fluffy by the end.

🩵

Ever since Jillian’s ex, Brent, had announced he was leaving her for her personal trainer she had tried her best to move on. It hadn’t been easy as Karin was everything Jillian wasn’t. Tall, blonde, fit and tanned versus short, brown haired, a little plump and likely to burn if she was out in the sun for longer than 15 minutes. Already plagued with self-doubt after gaining weight in the first two years of their marriage, Jillian’s self-esteem took a hit when Karin, the woman who said she would do all she could to help her get fit, betrayed her instead.

Standing in front of the door to the bar where she agreed to meet her other friends, Jillian decided she wasn’t ready and turned around to leave, only to walk into the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

“Whoa, darling,” he grinned, gently grasping her arms as she shrieked from the impact. “You’re not going in?”

“No,” she blushed. “I changed my mind. I can’t….”

“Well, that’s a shame,” said the man, his blue eyes flickering to her lips. “A pretty lady like you makes this place better. You’re not standing a guy up, are you?”

“No, I’m just not ready to put myself out there yet.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re going to make a clean getaway,” he noted, pointing to her friends who were at the window screaming at her with excitement. “Friends of yours?”

Jillian rolled her eyes, “Never saw them before.”

He chuckled then opened the door for her, waiting for her to enter before him. With a sigh, she entered and went towards her friends as he waved to some people at the back.

Her friend Marla pulled her into the booth. “Who was that?”

“I don’t know,” replied Jillian. “I literally walked into him when I changed my mind about coming in here.”

“That is one gorgeous man,” gushed Marla, to the consensus of the others. “He was checking you out. He still is.”

It was true. He was sitting in the booth at the back with a full view of Jillian and her friends. Whoever was talking to him seemed to be asking him questions, but he kept looking over to Jillian repeatedly. When the band started playing and couples began drifting onto the dance floor Jillian smiled as her friends were asked to dance until she was left alone at the booth. Taking a sip of her beer she looked out the window, feeling the hurt of being ignored.

“May I have this dance,” said a familiar voice and she turned her head back, seeing those blue eyes gazing at her. She said nothing at first and the man offered her his hand. “If you take my hand, I’ll lead you to the dance floor and we’ll kind of sway back and forth. That’s usually how this works.”

Blushing, she took his right hand, feeling the calluses on his fingertips. When he offered his left hand for her to take, she noticed he wore a leather glove. Before she could say anything, he began to move but he didn’t sway. Instead, he guided her around the dance floor, his hands gently pressing and pulling her in the direction he wanted to go. At first, she didn’t know quite what to do and her natural instinct was to try and anticipate which way he was going. Several times she bumped into him, until he grinned and lowered his face close to her ear.

“Sweetheart, you have to let me lead you,” he said, loud enough for her to hear over the band. “I won’t steer you wrong. Honest.”

He smiled then and Jillian thought she had died and gone to heaven as he was so damned handsome. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not much of a dancer. My ex-husband didn’t like close dancing.”

“That’s terrible,” said the man. “It’s the best way to get to know someone.”

As if to prove his point he brought her closer to him when the band shifted the tempo of the song to something slower and more romantic. At that point she became aware of his aftershave which smelled of sandalwood, cedar and citrus. He lowered his face close to her ear once again.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” he asked. “My name’s Bucky.”

“Jillian,” she answered. “Do you come here often?”

“Once or twice in the past couple of months with my friends,” he replied. “Haven’t seen you here before.”

“It’s my first time. My friends said I have to get back out there.”

“How long has your ex-husband been your ex-husband?” His lips were close enough to her ear that she could feel his breath on her neck, making goosebumps run up her legs and thighs.

“Eight months since the divorce,” she answered.

She sniffed and was surprised to feel a tear fall down her cheek. Pulling her hand out of his she wiped it off, trying to stop the others from falling. Bucky stopped dancing and gently guided her off the dance floor then outside to the cooler air. As she looked apologetically at him, he pulled a clean handkerchief out of his pocket, offering it to her.

“Sorry, it just still hurts,” she sniffed, taking the handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes with it. “He had a yearlong affair with someone I thought was my friend, and I’m still dealing with the betrayal.”

“It does hurt,” he agreed. “Went through my own divorce two and a half years ago. Except it was my wife who cheated on me. We were living in the next town over when it happened. I didn’t handle it very well, kind of dropped off the radar for a while then my friend Steve opened a custom cabinet maker’s business here and invited me to partner up with him.”

“How long did it take before it stopped hurting?” asked Jillian.

He smiled sadly. “I’m still working on it but tonight I feel better.” He leaned close. “I met a very pretty lady.”

Jillian could feel her cheeks get warm and smiled shyly. She offered Bucky his handkerchief back and was pleased to see him open the door for her again. The band was playing a fast song that neither of them felt like dancing to, so he dropped her off at the table, then walked back to where his friends were sitting. She watched him walk away, liking how he filled out his dark wash Levi’s. When he turned around to look back at her he grinned at catching her watching him and waved so she waved back. Marla was the first to come back to the table and grasped her hand.

“So?”

“His name is Bucky, he’s divorced, and he’s a cabinetmaker,” said Jillian. “I got upset and started to cry so he took me outside, gave me a clean handkerchief and he smells wonderful.”

“He’s one fine looking man,” replied Marla. “And he’s coming back with two beers. I’m going to the ladies’ room.”

“No, Marla, don’t leave me,” pleaded Jillian but her friend was already gone, and Bucky sat down across from her, placing a beer in front of her space.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “The server told me what you were drinking.”

He held his bottle towards her and looked at her expectantly. Marla took her bottle and tipped it towards him before sipping from it. His eyes focused on her as he drank from his beer then he put the bottle down and leaned forward.

“May I ask you something personal?”

“Okay,” nodded Jillian. “As long as I can ask you something in return.”

“Goes without saying. May I ask the name of your friend who hurt you?”

“Karin Barnes,” she replied. “Why? And that’s not my question.”

He breathed out heavily. “My other friend Sam saw you on the dance floor with me and said my ex-wife broke up your marriage. She must have moved on from the guy she cheated on me with. I’m so sorry about her.”

Jillian didn’t say anything for some time, wondering what the chances of this gorgeous man were being connected to her worst nightmare. She took another drink of her beer, a longer one this time before speaking.

“She was my personal trainer. I gained weight after I got married and my ex said I should work out. She would show up at 6 am and we’d run for an hour then go to the gym and work out for another hour. Then I’d run home, shower, eat breakfast and be at work for 9. I forgot my work keys once and came home to her in bed with my husband.”

Bucky drank from his beer, his eyes never leaving Jillian’s, shaking his head with empathy as she talked, then he put his hand on hers.

“She said I was changed after my accident.” He gestured to his left arm. “I lost my arm in a construction accident then got into a clinical trial for a new type of prosthetic. I have almost full sensation with it, and it allowed me to continue doing fine carpentry work. But she didn’t like it, said it was too artificial looking. She was working as a personal trainer then, as well, and she started an affair with one of her clients. What a toxic person she turned out to be. How your husband could cheat on a beautiful woman like you is beyond me.”

Jillian smiled and squeezed his hand. “You’re very handsome and there is no way Brent is better looking than you. You said before that you fell off the radar. What did you mean?”

“I got on my motorcycle and rode across the country, working odd jobs, living in dive motels, drinking too much.” He smiled grimly. “It wasn’t a healthy way to deal with the betrayal and I hit rock bottom when I thought of ending it.”

“What happened?” asked Jillian.

“I bought a bottle of sleeping pills and a big bottle of scotch then sat in a cheap motel for an hour looking at them, trying to get the courage to begin taking them.” He took another drink of his beer. “This is all that I drink now. Two and I’m done. Just so you know. I opened the bottle and poured a dozen pills out into my hand and my phone literally rang at that moment. It was my friend, Steve. That’s him over there, the big blond guy and he’s dancing with your friend.”

They both looked, noticing her friend Marla and his friend Steve on the dance floor, watching them then ducking behind another couple. Both Bucky and Jillian put their hands on their mouths as they suppressed laughter.

“I think we were set up,” said Jillian.

“I think you’re right,” he replied, grinning. Then he got serious again as he finished his story. “I was that close to throwing everything away. Steve told me he was starting up his dream business and he wanted me to be in on the ground floor as his partner. I was falling apart, and he was giving me a second take at life. For another hour I looked at the pills then I flushed them down the toilet and the next morning was on my way here.” He took another drink of his beer. “It was important to me that you knew that before I asked you out.”

“You’re asking me out?”

“Well, yeah,” he smiled, and Jillian felt warm inside. “I mean look at you. You’re gorgeous. Maybe we’re supposed to go out if our friends who are still trying to watch us have anything to do with it. It takes two, Jillian. I’m willing to give us a try if you are.”

This incredibly handsome man sat across from her, his dark hair just a little on the long side, his eyes meeting hers in a level but soft gaze. His broad shoulders were impressive and she already knew how wonderful he smelled, and how good he looked in his dark wash jeans. She gave out a big sigh then looked at his gloved hand before looking him in the eye.

“May I see your hand?”

For a moment Jillian wondered if she had offended Bucky as his gaze flickered to the black leather glove. Then he smiled lightly and pulled it off, revealing a metallic hand, mostly black in colour but with lines of gold between the different plates and pieces that formed the hand and fingers. Despite herself she touched it then looked up at him for permission. Bucky nodded and she took it in both of her hands, running her fingers over the smooth surface, while tracing the sections. It’s coolness surprised her but the longer she held it the warmer it seemed to get.

“It’s incredible,” she said. “Such workmanship and precision went into this, and you can feel my touch?” He smiled and nodded. “This is a work of art and you are the canvas. If Karin used this as an excuse to hurt you then she was a horrible person.”

“So, you’ll go out with me?” asked Bucky, leaving his hand in hers.

“Yes.” She leaned forward over the table so that his face was just inches from hers. “I’d go home with you right now, if you asked, and I’ve never ever done that before.”

His soft smile became broader as he slid his right hand around her neck, pulling them closer together. As their lips met and their first taste of each other was felt, the kiss deepened into something they both knew was just the beginning.

Steve and Marla watched from the dance floor as Bucky switched to sit next to Jillian, his arm around her shoulders. It was obvious the new couple’s attention was only on each other, with their heads close together, already giving off the aura of an intense attraction. A huge sigh escaped Steve’s lips as he looked at his girlfriend of a few weeks.

“You were right, they’re perfect for each other,” he said. “Now, what about Sam?”

One Shots Masterlist

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Please support the author by reblogging. Comments appreciated.

#bucky barnes #buckybarnes original female character #steve rogers #divorced #still hurting #atthebarwithfriends #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes au

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johnporcellino · 1 year

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#comics #zines #distro #spit and a half #john porcellino

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yourimagines · 7 months

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Photographer

* English is not my first language I apologise

* gif is not mine

* Triggers: none

Y/N POV

“Welcome Pierre and I see you brought someone with you?” “Yes, meet Y/N my new intern, Y/N meet Karin she is the PR for all the UFC fighters.” “Hello nice to meet you.” I shook her hand. “Nice to meet you too Y/N.” “So who do we have today here for picture day?” “The Diaz brothers.” As she gave me a wink. “Well let’s get started then.” Karin took us to the photo booth. Everything was there except a photographer. The Diaz brothers were sitting next to each other, waiting for us to arrive. “Nick, Nate. Pierre is here with his intern Y/N. So if they are ready we can get started.” Karin friendly pointed at us. They gave us a nod. Pierre took me under his wing and started to teach me right away. “So we have two camera’s with 10 different lenses. We will take this one with this lens.” He took one of the camera’s and placed a other lens on it. “We have to make different kind of photos, close up one, full body one, everything they need for their fight.” He placed the camera on the stand and makes a test picture. “You see this?” He pointed at the picture. “That’s good right.” “Exactly.” He turned around and looked at the two brothers. “We ready, one of you can start.” Nick stood up “I’ll go first.” “Okay Nick, you can take place to over there.” As he pointed at the white canvas. He nodded and took place. I watched the whole photo shoot till Nick was done. “Thank you Nick.” Nick nodded and took back place on his seat as Nate walked up. “So Nate this time my intern will make the photo’s, don’t worry she’s good.” As Pierre gave me a pat on the shoulders. We immediately started. Nate posed a few times. Nick started to laugh behind us. Nate looked a few times over at his brother. “Stop it.” He said. “Brother your doing some weird shit.” “Then don’t look.” I was waiting for Nate to continue. “Are we done?” Pierre said. “Sorry.” Nate looked at me as I nodded. Nate flexed with his arms and making himself look tuff. I snapped some pictures as he flexed around. Nick was laughing quietly. “Thank you Nate, we’re done here.” Said Pierre. Nate nodded, as Nick stood up. “Thank you Pierre, Y/N.” Nick said as Nate walked up. “Yeah thanks.” Nate said quickly. Then they both walked out of the room. Pierre called me to help to pack our stuff.

——Press day——

“So we are in the front, just shoot some pictures we will look later which one are good enough to use them.” Pierre said while giving me a camera. “Okay, just take some pictures of the fighters.” “Yes and we’ll look later today which on are good enough.” We walked to the front and took placed our camera stand. I played with the camera settings when the presentator started the press conference. “Welcome everybody, today is the press conference here in Texas!” People went crazy. Then he called the fighters up to the stage. Nate was on this fight card. “Here he is Nate Diaz!” He walked up and took a seat. He looked into the crowd till he saw me. He looked directly at me and he winked. During the press conference he kept looking at me. Making sure I was still there. After the press conference Pierre and I sat down at the kantine to look at the pictures. “This one is nice.” He said while pointing out a picture I took of Nate. (Picture down here)

We didn’t know that the Diaz brothers walked in and saw us talking about some pictures we took. “What are you guys talking so secretly about.” Nate said while sitting down next to me. “Oh hey, Y/N and I are looking at the pictures we took today.” Pierre said while scrolling down. Nick took place next to his brother. I just smiled shyly at them. “I found your instagram, you have some great photos on there.” Nick said while Nate nodded. “Oh thank you.” I started to blush. “Yeah, we where wondering if you have sometime next week or something to take some pictures.” Nick said while Nate looked down at his hands. “Uh yeah sure, just send me your address and a day so we can meet up.” “Alright, see you next week, Pierre good luck with the pictures.” Nick said while pointing at the computer. “Thank you Nick.” They both got up and walked away. Pierre didn’t look at me he was to busy scrolling down the list. “You’re on their good side but please be careful they are still fighters, they not some fake fighters they are the real deal.” “Thank you for your heads up Pierre.” “Your welcome.”

#ufc x reader #nate diaz imagine #nate diaz x reader #imagine #imagines #x reader

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itsmnee · 1 year

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wip wednesday thursday

this has been in my drafts for so long idk if I'll ever finish it buuuuut sns as rival hairstylists ✂️

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Uchiha Sasuke is the most sought after hairstylist in Konoha. His salon, KUSANAGI, is consistently booked solid months in advance, with his own appointments scheduled even further out. After opening KUSANAGI at only twenty-two, he’s spent the past seven years building its reputation as the best salon in Konoha—the best stylists, the best service, the best experience. Their regular clients never leave unless they’re relocating, and even then, a few make regular trips back to Konoha just for their services.

Which is precisely why Uchiha Sasuke is currently perplexed.

“That’s the fifth regular we’ve lost in three months,” he states, not bothering to hide his irritation.

“I know,” Karin replies. “I got it out of Hinata that she’s seeing some guy who rents a booth at the salon suites in New Leaf Square. Ino is going to him too. He just moved here in January and apparently already had a big following online, so he’s been blowing up fast from word of mouth.”

Sasuke’s jaw clenches. He’s losing clients not to another salon, but to some freelancer?

“Show me.” He walks to Karin’s side as she switches from the KUSANAGI business account that she manages to her personal Instagram account on her phone. A moment later, she hands it over.

Sage Studio, it reads, and beneath it is the stylist’s name—Uzumaki Naruto—along with the incredibly tacky tagline of hair with care. The profile picture is a close-up shot of an objectively attractive blond with the biggest fucking smile Sasuke’s ever seen. Ugh. He quickly scrolls down, looking through the various images of completed jobs. The guy is obviously talented, easily on par with their stylists, but certainly not better.

“I don’t get it.” He looks up at Karin, brow furrowed. “He’s good, but not good enough to make several of our regulars switch. Is he undercharging or—”

“No, his price list is comparable. From what Hinata said, it’s more about his… vibe.”

Sasuke stares at her, uncomprehending.

“He’s…” Karin braces herself, “friendly.”

“We’re friendly,” Sasuke says, sounding very much like he’ll murder anyone who disagrees.

“Right. But we’re more, well, professional, and he’s… like talking to a friend, I guess.”

Sasuke’s lip curls.

“I know, but that’s what people want. Some of them, anyway. I doubt we’d lose, say, Shikamaru or Gaara to someone like him.”

Sasuke shoves the phone back into her hand and sighs. “Just… keep an eye on it. I’ll figure out what to tell everyone at the next staff meeting. And let me know immediately if anyone else leaves.”

Karin nods, giving him her best reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Sasuke. It’ll be fine.”

-----

“You fucking jinxed us.”

Karin groans, sprawling onto Sasuke’s couch with her glass of wine sloshing dangerously in her hand. “No one could have predicted Shikamaru would be taken by sunshine boy. Or Gaara, for fuck’s sake. He's gotta be—I don't know, giving out complimentary edibles or something."

When Sasuke doesn’t respond, she frowns, wiggling to sit up enough to see him in the kitchen. Sasuke is in the midst of typing furiously on his phone, his own thrice-emptied wineglass beside him on the counter. “What’re you doing?”

“Requesting an appointment.”

“What?! With Uzumaki?”

“Hn,” Sasuke confirms, finally setting his phone down and uncorking a new bottle of wine. “I’ll find out for myself what’s so special about him.”

“You do realize that means you’ll have to actually let him cut your hair, right? You never let anyone touch your hair!”

“It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make for the sake of the salon," Sasuke says grimly, expression stony as he fills his glass.

"Yeah, okay." Karin snorts and relaxes back into the cushions. "I bet you cancel as soon as you're sober."

Sasuke glares at her darkly. "You're on."

#sns #sasunaru #narusasu #bymnee #wip wednesday #snippet

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marypickfords · 1 year

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The Unfinished Dance (Henry Koster, 1947)

#ghhhhhhhhh #karin booth #the unfinished dance #henry koster #caps

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catboymitosis · 8 months

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Started an Abella playthrough. Didn't know August has kids he's a canon dilf good for him. Also if you confess to having lustful thoughts to O'saa in the confession booth he'll and you say it's someone on the train he'll assume it's Abella but if you're play as Abella he'll ask if it's a fair-haired lady instead. Which I assume means Karin but I guess could be Marina since her hair is so confusing? No love for Olivia either way, can someone pls be thirsty over Olivia for once, cowards. Less fun fact is that analyze does not work on crimson fathers, fuck those guys I hate those things

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icybreaths · 10 months

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from karin; She takes a swig of beer while she adjusts herself in the booth. She knows she doesn't have a dick to make room for, but any other position but manspreading is uncomfortable.

"How's your kid?" Karin asks. "I don't think I've ever, like, actually asked about him before."

|| Asks || @baiika ||

My kid – it brought a smile to her face.

Yuudai had taken a liking to her from the get-go, ever since she wiped those tears from his face after that awful incident. Her tenderness was instinctual in that moment. Jewel didn’t know where it came from; she simply reacted at the sight of him.

“Yuudai’s been well,” she chuckled. “I’d have him around all the time if I wadn’t so busy and.. cold. If you wanna meet him some time I’ll hunt him down. He’s a bit of a firecracker but he’s sweet.”

#baiika #[ asks ]#v: harbinger of the ice age #//heeeell yeah she never gets asked about yuudai!

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togamzee · 1 year

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Mizuo couldn’t help the jaded annoyance that spread across his face at the sight of the conference room. It was in his nature. Karin offered him an apologetic smile, a small wrapped present in her hands. He found the room adorned with ‘happy birthday’ banners, black and gold balloons, streamers and just about every tacky decoration one may blindly grab for in a party aisle. Kawaki found endless amusement in this scene year after year. Mizuo allowed it; with the certainty that he’d surely make up for it with a tasteful and indulgent party well after sunset.

“Happy Birthday, Miyazaki.”

“Thank you, Karin.”

He wished he had told them not to include his age in the decorations. 26 screamed at him with violence. While he put up every effort in making sure these particular thoughts did not surface often; seeing his age in print put ragged voices back in his ears and attached vulgar, vile mouths to his skin. Boorish hands that gripped him too tight. Fingers that tangled unceremoniously in his hair. “You better make us proud, real proud, you got till 25,”

The repulsion was only choked down by the satisfaction of his empire–manifesting in the sounds of others entering his office, loud and eager. He turned on his heel to face Kawaki, Noe, Keiichi, Mahiro, sound directors, costumers, interns and assistants–the lower on the hierarchy the further away the placement. He nearly smiled. This was his. And while he thought ‘I’d rather die than (insert unpleasantry),’ often, truly…he would rather die than have this taken from him. He did not allow the archaic fear of that outcome touch him. Not anymore. In dreams, he saw it, friends and passions and ideals snuffed out by a god with viscous and unyielding possession. Maybe years ago, he would have let the bloody threat stir in his depths. He could defy that god now. The sheer amount of bodies that bent to his will served as its own defiance he would not allow himself to be stripped of.

Still, he did like the idea of the god trying.

Through the glass, Mizuo discerned a few figures from his cast. Miya Atsumu towered. Aihara Irie met his eyes without fail. A handful of the others had joined them, though Mizuo’s attention was quickly stolen by a firm handshake from Karin’s husband and the grating sound of a party horn coming from Kawaki. Mizuo thanked them all for showing, letting the staff and crew partake in the lunch before the early dismissal. Though his birthday may have been enough of a reason–it was Christmas Eve, too.

***

Kawaki had given him a bump or two or five on the drive.

The two arrived together, of course, filtering into the club. Kawaki disappeared quickly. While the thought of a goth nightclub was appealing, it didn’t exactly exist. Not in the context of his imagination, anyway. The one that hosted his annual party gave off enough of a vibe. Regardless, the evening changed the tune entirely to his tastes; per the suggestions of his creative director and others. Low red lighting that brightened and dulled in intervals. Heavy music played at just the perfect volume, loud but not blaring, enough so conversations could be shared so long as the individuals were close. Booths with dark red crushed velvet upholstery. He could have done without the fog, though it made it easier to shamelessly smoke indoors. It wasn’t a terribly large club, though it was already packed with individuals that held titles from all aspects of filmmaking. Actors and actresses never failed to be flashier. The glitter appliques on Irie’s dress very nearly matched that of his own blazer.

Mizuo leaned in, speaking close to her ear as a slow smile spread across her face.

“I feel like you borrowed my designer.”

“Promise I didn’t. Happy birthday, Mizuo.”

He left their conversation with a thank you and a (probably) unavoidable shoulder bump. Kawaki waited at one of the larger tables, arms draped over the back of the booth seats. He nodded his head at the backpack beside him with a horrible shit eating grin on his face. Mizuo made his way over, scoping the table as he sat. Several bottles sat on ice, mixers and glasses and of course a too sweet and skimpy bottle girl to service the table appearing on cue. She gave him another ‘happy birthday Miyazaki,’ glinted eyes flickering to him more than once as she poured for them. As soon as she was gone, Kawaki unzipped the backpack, tossing several small coke filled baggies onto the table. “Gotta start somewhere, yeah?”

He was glad he didn’t invite Kaede.

An hour or so had passed while Kawaki must have wondered about her, too. The two had finished most of the contents on the table, sharing with others that came by with the rounds of socialization before he brought her up. “Yo, your little gymnast, still fucking with her? Right? Or, you know–” He motioned towards the dance floor, where after multiple rounds of shots and drinks Irie had remained with the rest of the recent cast and some of the more vibrant members of the crew. “Gonna pick her back up? Cuz, like, I get it–”

Mizuo laid out another line for himself, snorting that and coming up with a short groan before he could reply. “Fuck off, Kawaki. Fuck. You are so annoying.”

“I mean, you didn’t ask her to come, so like–”

“I don’t think she knows or gets that I’m all…” Exhaling, Mizuo gestured towards the table. He picked up one of his drink glasses. “This.”

“Can’t hide it forever, dude! Or save her for some day later when you can get all retired and settled down and shit.”

For a brief moment, Mizuo didn’t think that was the worst idea. Not one he’d actually entertain. He wasn’t going to let her go. Even if he shoved her away and screamed and panicked he couldn’t stand the thought of allowing more time to pass where she was separate from him. However…he couldn’t deny the truth in his friend's statement. Mizuo leaned his head back. The world spun for longer than he’d like as he closed his eyes. A body sliding into the space beside him forced them to open.

Irie reached for one of the bags, offering a smile in return as Kawaki motioned in a be my guest fashion. Mizuo watched as she took a hit, nothing insane–just enough to subtly flaunt her sickening compatibility with him and his lifestyle.

“If you watch me it’s embarrassing,” she teased, leaning closer to compensate for the music–even if she didn’t have to. “Haven’t done it in forever.”

“Liar. I saw you last week.”

“I didn’t do it then, though. Thanks, Kawaki.”

Satisfied, she rose, returning to the dance floor.

“I meant it, man. Can’t mesh all this with the goodie sweetheart you got. I just can’t fuckin’ see it.”

Mizuo shifted, crossing an ankle over his knee and running a hand through his hair. He contemplated, pulling his phone out of his pocket and staring at the text messages to Kaede for a few prolonged moments. She…had emphasized he couldn’t possibly do something that’d make her want to stay away from him. He was magnetic, wasn’t he?

“Dude, no way–!” Kawaki exclaimed, leaning forward and looking plainly at Mizuo’s screen. “No. You don’t wanna do this, for real. I was just fucking with you. She gets caught and photographed coming in here it’ll probably go all tabloid again, especially if you guys leave together–or fuck, if you don’t leave together–”

“You have to stop saying things like that, then. Now I only want to test it. It’s my birthday. Just put the coke up for a bit if she comes.”

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