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azzifudd · 20 hours ago

Text

as long as i live

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: inspired by jensen mcrae's massachusetts

rated: teen

4.9k words

disclaimer: fictional!

notes: well! i'm not exactly coming out of retirement, but according to google docs i started writing this in june 2024 which seems wild to me. i pushed myself to finish it up so i could post it for you guys, if anyone's even still interested in reading my stuff. it's a bit different from stuff i've written before but i hope you guys like it anyways. listen to the song while you read, it's great :)

[AO3 LINK]

When someone tells me they're from Massachusetts, now I always ask, "What part?"

“So, where are you from?”

Part of Azzi cringes inside as she asks such a cliche and boring question, but this is the second blind date she’s been on in the past month, and her social battery is at an all time low. At this point, her date is lucky that she isn’t talking about the weather.

“Born and raised in Minnesota, but I moved out here after college for work.” Her date, Savannah, takes a sip of water, tongue darting out to catch a stray drop that hangs off the corner of full lips.

Minnesota. Azzi feels her heart stutter at the word.

“Oh, where in Minnesota?”

“It’s a small town, you’ve probably never heard of it.”

It doesn’t even matter, but Azzi wants to know, needs to know.

“Falcon Heights. It’s where the-“

“The State Fair.” Azzi interrupts. “That’s where the State Fair is held.”

“You’ve heard of it?”

“I’ve been before, I had a…” Azzi hesitates for just a moment too long. “A friend from Minnesota. We used to go every year.”

“Maybe I can take you back someday.” Savannah smiles flirtatiously, but it drops when she sees how Azzi is staring off into the distance, unresponsive and trapped in a memory long since passed.

Azzi gags as she watches Jose bend over a trash can, emptying the contents of his stomach after a clearly too intense roller coaster.

Their mom rubs a hand along his back as he finally straightens up, face pale and sweaty.

“I guess this is a good time to finish up our night.”

They’ve been at the State Fair for over 12 hours at this point, and even though the place is still fairly packed, Jose and Jon have been visibly flagging for a while, and Jose’s sickness is a clear sign for them to start heading home.

“But we haven’t even gone on the ferris wheel yet.” Azzi complains, pouting.

“The line looks long, honey. I’m not sure your brothers will make it.”

“I’ll stay with her.” Paige pipes up. “And my dad can pick us up after we’re done.”

Azzi bounces excitedly on her heels, gripping Paige’s arm with both hands.

“Please, please, please?”

Tim and Katie exchange a look, clearly having an unspoken discussion. Soon Tim shrugs, leaving the decision up to his wife.

“She’ll be safe with me, Mrs. Fudd.” Paige says, so sweetly earnest in the way only a 16 year old can be. She still hasn’t gotten used to calling Azzi’s parents by their first names.

“Oh, I know that, sweetheart. I’m just worried about what sorts of trouble she might get you into.”

Katie laughs as Azzi sticks her tongue at her.

“Okay, fine. Just keep an eye on your phones in case we need to get a hold of you.”

“Thank you!” Azzi gives her parents kisses goodbye and hugs her little brothers before grabbing Paige by the hand and dragging her over to the ferris wheel.

She’s so excited to ride that she doesn’t notice how quiet Paige is. Her friend normally hardly shuts up, but Azzi doesn’t realize how unlike herself Paige is acting until they’re being ushered into the gondola.

The metal car creaks loudly as it moves, sending them slowly up into the sky.

“Paige? Are you okay?”

Paige’s hands are tight around the metal lap bar, fingers pale as she squeezes it tight.

“Yeah!” She says, squeaking when they jolt to a sudden stop, about halfway to the top.

“Are you afraid of heights?” Azzi asks, almost incredulously. Paige isn’t afraid of anything. She’s always ready to jump in head first, with hardly a thought to the consequences. They’d already ridden most of the roller coasters here without a problem.

“Hell no!”

Azzi might be more convinced if her eyes weren’t squeezed shut as they started moving again.

“Why’d you agree to come on if you’re so scared?”

“You wanted to.”

Azzi feels blood rush to her face. She smiles shyly in response. No one has ever made her feel as special as Paige does, like everything she says matters. She presses close to Paige’s side as the ferris wheel screeches to a stop at the top.

The view is spectacular. The lights from the rides, nothing compared to the brightness of the stars above them. But Azzi doesn’t look.

“Hey.”

She reaches over and grabs Paige’s hand with her left hand, pulling it from the bar and intertwining their fingers. With her right hand, she reaches up to gently grasp Paige’s chin.

“Don’t look out there. Just look at me.”

Paige’s eyes flutter open. Azzi’s mouth feels dry suddenly. She licks her lips watching as Paige’s gaze darts from Azzi’s eyes to her lips and back again.

Her eyes shine under the light of the moon. They’re beautiful. Paige is so beautiful. Azzi’s heart pounds in her chest. This moment feels more dangerous than sitting hundreds of feet in the air with only a bar of metal keeping you safe.

Paige leans in, so slow that Azzi knows she could pull away if she wanted to. She doesn’t. She leans in the rest of the way instead, and puts her heart in Paige Bueckers’ hands.

I wonder if you kept the pilgrim ashtray if it's still propped up on your bar cart

“You’re home pretty early, how was it?”

Colleen had called Azzi almost as soon as she had stepped through the door, which told Azzi that she had likely been checking her location through the night. She had been encouraging about it when Azzi had told her that a teammate was setting her up with a friend of theirs, someone from outside the basketball world.

But Azzi knows Colleen is still holding out hope that she and Paige are meant to be. She hasn’t mentioned her to Azzi in months, not since the last time she’d had to comfort a drunk Azzi who had broken down just from hearing her name.

“It was fine. I fucked it up, the usual.”

Azzi pops the fridge open, pulling out a bottle of wine and grabbing the bottle opener on the door. The bottle opens with a pop and Azzi pours a full glass, takes a few big sips from it, before filling it again.

“Oh, babe. What happened?”

How can she explain that the mere mention of Paige’s home state had sent her into a spiral and that she’d had to make a stupid excuse to leave and now probably wouldn’t be able to face her teammate without making a fool of herself.

“No biggie. We just weren’t compatible.” She takes another swig of wine. “I’m just gonna take a bath and go to bed.”

“Okay, Azzi. I love you. You know I’m always here if you wanna talk.”

“Love you too.” Azzi doesn’t know how she would have gotten through these past two years without her.

Azzi heads into the bathroom, running the faucet to fill the tub. She goes to light one of the many scented candles she’s been gifted over the years, this one that claims to release a relaxing scent, just what she needs tonight.

The lighter sputters weakly and doesn’t ignite. With a sigh, she heads back into the kitchen, digging into the junk drawer where she knows she has seen a box of matches.

She finally finds it under a pile of old charging cables, but stops short when she sees what’s printed on it. It’s faded and worn, but the word Ted’s is still visible.

She rubs her thumb over it. This pack of matches has somehow made the journey from Storrs all the way to her home in San Francisco.

Azzi slides the cover off. There’s only one match left inside.

The candle goes unlit. The match untouched.

“Who wants shots!” Paige’s voice echoes through the bar.

It’s Azzi’s first time at Ted’s as an official member of the team, and Paige is clearly dedicating herself to making sure she has the best possible time.

Azzi isn’t sure she’s seen Paige stop smiling since she moved into the dorms, and it must be infectious, because the butterflies in her stomach haven’t rested since the moment Paige showed up at her door to help move her in.

“Paige, relax!” Christyn says, patting Paige on the head and laughing when Paige swats her away to fix her displaced hair.

“Here we go!” Liv comes back to the table holding a tray full of shots.

The team gathers around, each taking a hold of one of the glasses.

“To our new teammates. Welcome to UConn, and let’s win a national championship. Go Huskies!” They all throw back their shots at once.

A few hours later, as Azzi dances with Caroline and Amari, Paige comes bouncing up to them, slipping her arms around Azzi’s waist and swaying behind her.

She presses her face into the side of Azzi’s neck. “Come outside with me for a sec. Nika gave me a lil’ somethin’ if you wanna try.”

Azzi nods and lets Paige lead her outside by the hand. It’s a lot less crowded outside, and the light breeze feels good against her sweat slicked skin.

Paige guides her to a more secluded corner where a lone picnic table sits underneath some fairy lights strung along the patio. Paige sits with the bench between her legs, pulling Azzi to sit next to her.

She pulls out a joint and wiggles her eyebrows at Azzi.

“You wanna?”

Azzi had never dared to try it in high school with her parents always around, but she wants to now. The season doesn’t start for months, and practice not for another week. She nods, eagerly. She knows that there’s no safer person for her to try this with than Paige, who would never let her get hurt.

Paige passes the joint over. “Hold this for me for a sec.”

She pulls out a fresh box of matches, pulling one out and lighting it with a quick flick of her wrist. She holds it to the tip until it glows.

“Go ahead.”

Azzi hesitates for a moment. “I just breathe in?”

“Mmhm.” Paige nods, watching with rapt attention as Azzi brings the joint up to her lips and inhales.

A hacking cough bursts out of her throat before the smoke can even hit her lungs.

Paige laughs as she rubs Azzi’s back.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she chokes out when she can finally breathe.

“Okay, okay,” Paige holds up her hands in apology. “Here, let’s try another way.”

She takes hold of the joint, sliding closer until their legs are touching. She brings it to her lips, inhaling deeply and holding the smoke in her chest. Then she leans in, giving Azzi a chance to pull away. When she edges just a bit closer instead, Paige seals their lips together, exhaling when Azzi’s mouth opens against hers.

She keeps them pressed together until she feels Azzi breathe in deep. When she pulls back, Paige keeps their foreheads pressed together.

“How was that?” She asks, voice raspy.

In response, Azzi just hooks a hand around Paige’s neck and kisses her again.

Could make a grand off of the chain you bought me, but goddamn, it's not for sale

“Azzi!”

Azzi barely has a moment to steel herself before Nika nearly bowls her over in a hug.

“I’ve missed you so much.” Azzi says, returning the hug. They hadn’t seen each other since the last time their teams had matched up, but with both teams now out of playoff contention, they had decided to get dinner while Nika was in town.

They spend the night catching up, telling stories and reminiscing about old times, both often changing the subject when it approached the elephant in the room.

When they’re both three cocktails deep, Nika finally asks, “Do you think you’ll go to the Finals?”

Azzi knows that the girls have been planning a reunion to see Paige play in her first Finals. She’s sure that it hasn’t gone unnoticed that she hasn’t said anything in the group chat.

“Of course.”

She hadn’t told anyone, but she’d booked the ticket the minute the Lynx had clinched their series. Nothing could keep her away. Her hand goes up to fiddle with her necklace subconsciously.

“That’s great, Azzi. I know she wants you there, more than anything.”

Nika’s eyes flicker down to where her fingers are toying with the chain. She drops her hand. The charm bounces against her chest. To this day, she can’t explain why she still wears it, just that it’s become like a part of her.

The first thing that Azzi notices when she wakes up, is that there’s someone asleep beside her. It isn’t the strangest occurrence in this house. Sometimes one of her brothers will fall asleep next to her, or one of the dogs will come in seeking her warmth.

But this body is pressed against her back, a heavy arm slung around her waist. Even the way their breath puffs against her neck is familiar. But the only person Azzi wants to be sharing a bed with is hundreds of miles away, so Azzi turns to lay on her back, her wrapped leg only protesting a little. A wave of blonde hair covers her face.

“What?” She whispers, because this shouldn’t be possible. She swears she had just fallen asleep talking with Paige about the team’s resounding victory in Aaliyah’s home country.

Her phone still rests next to her head. When she wakes the screen up, there’s one unread message from the night before.

Paige💗

See you soon, baby 💗😘

She nudges at Paige’s side, suddenly too impatient to wait for her to wake up. Paige groans, but she opens her eyes, blinking blearily and clearly exhausted. She smiles wide when she sees Azzi.

“Hey.”

“What the fuck?” Azzi murmurs, still a little bit stunned, and presses close to kiss Paige deeply.

“Never been happier to miss a night of sleep.” Paige says when they part, smirking.

Azzi whacks her on the shoulder, but gives her another light peck. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you. Merry Christmas.”

Azzi is leaning in to kiss her again when her dad’s voice comes echoing down the stairs. “If y’all are awake, breakfast is almost ready.”

“Okay!”

Azzi throws the blanket off of her body, sitting up.

“Hold on a sec.” Paige walks over to where her duffel bag has been dumped by the door, digging through it.

She walks back and sits down next to Azzi, holding onto a black box.

“I know Christmas isn’t actually for a few days, but I can’t wait any longer.”

Azzi takes the box in her hands, feeling the softness of the velvet under her fingers. She opens it to reveal a silver heart encrusted with diamonds dangling from a delicate chain. It looks a lot like a necklace that already sits in her jewelry box, except this one has an infinity symbol embedded within the heart.

Azzi feels choked up all of a sudden. The meaning of the symbol is not lost on her. She puts the box down on her lap and raises a hand to cup Paige’s cheek.

“I love it. I love you.”

Paige leans their foreheads together. “It’s a forever kinda thing. Just like us.”

You broke me to pieces, but I root for you even though everything went up in flames

The buzzer sounds, and the Minnesota crowd is silent. It’s the end of the third quarter, and the Liberty are leading the Lynx by seventeen. Even from up in the suite, Azzi can see how bad Paige’s body language is, how she’s already beating herself up for the loss even though there’s still ten minutes left in the game.

The camera focuses on Paige, seated at the bench, staring off into the distance even as her coach speaks in the huddle. Azzi stands suddenly, startling KK.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to get down there.” She’s not quite sure how she’ll get to the bench, but she’ll figure it out when she gets there.

Luckily when she makes it down there, she bumps into Paige’s agent Lindsay, who greets her with a hug.

“Azzi!” She looks surprised to see Azzi. “What are you doing down here? I thought you and the other girls were up in one of the boxes.”

“Hey.” She replies, distractedly. “Do you think you could get me courtside?”

Lindsay gives her a slightly pitying look. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I know it is.” Azzi says, absolutely certain. She knows, at least, that she has to try.

Lindsay leads her to her seat, just a few rows behind the home bench. The Lynx have cut the lead to thirteen, but there’s still a steep hill to climb with less than half a quarter of the game left. When one of the Liberty passes skips out of bounds, the Paige’s coach calls a timeout to steady the team.

Paige stomps back to the bench, clearly frustrated and lifts her jersey to wipe the sweat from her face. As she reaches the bench, she finally looks up, eyes locking with Azzi’s. She freezes.

Azzi smiles at her, and taps a hand on her chest where the number 5 rests proudly on her chest.

“Breathe.” She mouths. “You got this.”

Paige finally blinks. Azzi sees her take a deep breath, and then another. She nods at Azzi before taking a seat on the bench and listening as her coach speaks. Then she’s sticking her head in the huddle and taking charge.

Her teammates all watch with attention, swept up in her emotions. Azzi misses it sometimes, the way Paige could make you believe you could accomplish anything just because she believed in you.

The buzzer goes off, signaling the end of the timeout. As she heads back onto the floor, Paige turns back toward Azzi. She rests a hand over her heart and then points back to Azzi. Her teammate inbounds the ball to her.

In the remaining minutes, Paige outscores the Liberty all by herself, and the Lynx come back to win game one.

“Congratulations, Ms. Rookie of the Year.”

Azzi steps up to Paige, wrapping her arms around her neck and leaning in to kiss her. Paige has been talking with the press all day, and Azzi hasn’t seen her since she left the apartment this morning.

Paige turns her head, and Azzi’s lips land on her cheek as she turns her head to check one end of the hallway, and then the other. They can hear the sound of a door opening in the distance, and Paige flinches minutely.

Azzi drops her arms and steps back, eyes focusing on the ground.

“Hey.” Paige looks down, making eye contact with her. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” And Azzi does know. She knows Paige really is sorry, and that it’s not just something she’s saying to appease her. It doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Still, she throws a smile on her face. “You ready to head out?” She’d made a reservation, at one of Paige’s favorite restaurants, a few weeks ago for them to celebrate.

Paige’s expression shifts again, just barely, but Azzi knows every inch of her.

“What is it?”

“The team invited me out to celebrate. Phee got a hook up at a restaurant. You’ll get to hang with Dorka.” Paige says, like it’s a consolation prize.

Azzi feels that familiar disappointment swell within her, but she pushes it down. They’re going to celebrate Paige, so Azzi will go along with a smile on her face.

It’s not even 11 PM when Azzi decides that it’s time for her to go. Her head is pounding and she’s barely spent even five minutes with Paige since they got to the club. She finds Paige by the bar, grabbing another round for the team.

“I’m going home,” Azzi says, trying to avoid looking into Paige’s hazy, glazed over eyes.

“What?” Paige frowns. “We barely just got here.”

“I know, you should stay and celebrate, but I’m going.” Azzi pushes past, not letting Paige talk, she can’t have this conversation, not here.

She pushes out the door, breathing in cool air. A quick peek at her phone shows that her Uber will be here in just a few minutes. She jumps when a hand clasps her shoulder and turns to find Paige.

“What’s the matter? You’re upset.” Paige looks so worried, and it makes Azzi almost want to laugh, if it didn’t hurt, just how clueless Paige could be sometimes.

“I’m fine. Go back inside,” she replies, voice short.

“What happened? You barely talked to anyone the whole night.”

“I’m tired, Paige.” Azzi blinks furiously as tears fill her eyes. “Sometimes, I just want to be able to hold your hand, and I can’t, and I can’t even be mad at you about it. I’m so tired, so please, just let me go home.”

Paige freezes. Her hand is outstretched, but she’s stopped short of making contact. For a moment, Azzi wishes Paige would just grab her, hold on, tell her to stay. But she doesn’t, and Azzi just gets into the Uber and drives off, leaving Paige behind on the sidewalk.

When Azzi wakes up the next morning, she feels hungover, even though she had barely drank the night before. Her eyes feel swollen from crying and her body sore from being curled up in a ball all night. Paige isn’t asleep beside her, but that’s no surprise. Sometimes the blonde will sleep on the couch when she gets home late because she doesn’t want to disrupt Azzi’s sleep.

She finally drags herself out of bed, heading toward the kitchen in search of caffeine. She stops short when she sees Paige sitting at the counter, nursing a cup of coffee.

“I’m surprised you’re awake already.” Azzi offers, feeling regretful at her harsh tone from the night before as she looks at Paige’s drawn, tired face.

“Haven’t slept.” Paige takes a sip of her coffee.

She finally looks up, into Azzi’s eyes, and before she can even speak, Azzi knows.

“Paige…” She starts, voice already wobbling. She sits gingerly in the chair next to Paige.

“Azzi.” Paige responds, sounding so steady Azzi shouldn’t be able to suspect that she is about to break Azzi’s heart. But Azzi knows Paige, and can see the pain in her expression.

“Don’t do this.”

“I’m doing this for you.” Paige reaches out for Azzi’s hand, and when she holds it gently, they’re both shaking.

“Don’t.” Azzi chokes out again.

“You deserve so much more than what I can give you.” Azzi notices how Paige stares behind her head, unable to even make eye contact with her.

“I know you are a lot of things Paige Bueckers, but I never thought you were a coward.” Azzi jerks her hand away, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I’m sorry.”

The fire in my gut that I've chased ever since

“Azzi! Wait!”

Azzi almost doesn’t hear her over the constant hum of people moving about the arena. But she’s always had a sense for Paige, from the moment they met, like a thread connecting them no matter where they were. She stops in the hallway where she had fled after the final buzzer had sounded.

“Congratulations, Paige.”

“Thank you.” Paige pants, still catching her breath.

There’s a beat of silence, but it’s almost comfortable, in a way the space between them hasn’t been for years.

“Azzi-”

“Paige-”

They laugh when they both speak in unison. Azzi puts a hand out, gesturing for Paige to talk.

Paige steps forward, reaching her hand out, a question in her eyes.

Azzi almost says yes, almost reaches out to answer. But she’s been burned before, and it’s not always easy to be brave. So she takes the easy way out.

“Win this thing, and then we can talk.”

“‘Win this thing?’ The championship?” Paige asks, almost incredulous.

“Yeah.” Azzi smirks at her, already drawn back into a familiar banter. “Unless you don’t think you can do it.”

Paige scoffs immediately. “I’ll see you when I lift that trophy.”

Paige had already known she was going to play her heart out, but nothing gets her competitive spirit going more than Azzi challenging her.

Paige stares at Azzi for a moment, just drinking in the sight of her with her number on her chest, knowing that when Azzi turned from her that she would see her name stretched across her back.

She smiles at Azzi, and it feels almost unfamiliar, smiling and knowing it’s true and sincere.

Azzi smiles back, and Paige knows this championship is hers.

“Azzi! Hold up!” Azzi freezes in place, recognizing that voice. She rubs a hand over her forehead. She almost wants to keep going, just jog down the hallway and right out of the arena.

Instead, she just takes a deep breath and then another, and turns around. Her traitorous heart still quickens at the sight of Paige Bueckers smiling at her.

“Hey,” Paige says, voice soft as she runs her eyes down Azzi’s chest, lingering on the purple logo and #35 bold on her chest.

“Hi.” Azzi replies, eyes darting to and from Paige’s face. There have been a few unanswered and clearly drunk texts, from both sides, and a huge bouquet at her doorstep after she had been drafted, but this is the closest they’ve been in nearly a year.

“You kicked our asses huh?”

It had been Azzi’s first time matching up against the Lynx, but it’s just their luck that Paige hadn’t even been able to play, a hand injury keeping her out of the line up. It had been a hard fought game, with Azzi’s Valkyries coming out on top, but it hadn’t been what Azzi had wanted.

“I missed you out there.”

It’s the truth. Despite their distance, Azzi has long dreamed of the moment she and Paige would face off in the WNBA, and it was disappointing that it had been delayed like so many of their on the court moments.

Paige gives her that crooked smile. “I’m so proud of you.”

Every emotion floods through Azzi at that moment. Anger, sadness, joy, hope, love. This is what she’d wanted. Just her and Paige and the game they loved so much.

But then she remembers why she’s been miserable for nearly an entire year despite achieving her biggest dreams. She remembers why she hasn’t been able to share her proudest moments with the person she loves the most.

“What do you want, Paige?”

Paige steps closer, until they’re within arms reach.

“I just- I had to talk to you; tell you how happy I am for you.”

Azzi feels herself softening, like she always has around Paige.

“Thank you.” Somehow the hallway seems quiet, even though Azzi knows there are thousands of people beyond these walls.

“I-”

Paige is interrupted when a voice calls down the hall for Azzi. The team’s PR person is looking for her, and Azzi’s late for media.

Paige takes a big step back, and Azzi is brought back to that day a year ago, and the heartbreak feels almost as fresh. But she decides then and there that she’s cried enough over Paige Bueckers, and so she just smiles, wistfully.

“I’ll see you around, Paige,” she says, and then she walks away.

You set the bar, you're gonna stick

“And for the first time since 2017, the Lynx have done it! Minnesota, your Lynx are WNBA Champions once more!”

The cheers of the fans is near deafening. The Liberty players leave the court in stunned silence as the Lynx players pile on top of each other with joy.

Azzi whoops, voice hoarse from hours of non stop cheering. She knows it might be a bad look, as a member of another team, to be this excited, but she can’t help it.

Suddenly there’s a loud swell of noise, and the crowd on the court parts. Paige is pushing her way through the throng of people, and a mob of cameras is following her. She finally makes her way to where Azzi is standing, a few rows up from the court.

She smiles at the fans, who all clamor for her attention, but Paige is on a mission. She pushes her way through the crowd, ignoring how the team’s security is nearly begging her to come back down.

“Paige! What are you doing?”

“I did it!” Paige beams, blue eyes brimming with joyful tears.

Azzi throws her arms around her, barely registering the noise around them.

“I love you!” Paige cups her hand around Azzi’s ear as she speaks, and Azzi feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“What?” Azzi laughs, in disbelief. “Paige, you just won a championship! They’re about to announce you as Finals MVP.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Paige pulls back and presses their foreheads together. “All of this is empty without you with me.”

Cameras flash all around them. The entire world is watching, and Azzi knows that this is impulsive and that they have so much they need to talk about, but in this moment, it feels like they’re just kids again, sitting atop a creaky ferris wheel with their whole future ahead of them.

This time, Azzi leans in first, lets Paige decide.

This time, she doesn’t hesitate.

#pazzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers

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sonotpattismith · 2 days ago

Text

savior complex

pairing: satoru gojo x reader word count: 9.6k content: manga spoilers, fluff in the beginning, angst, if gojo had survived, depression, feelings of worthlessness, hurt w/ comfort, smut, 18+ inspired by: would you fall in love with me again from epic the musical (my SHAYLAAA)

Gojo wasn’t sure that he’d had to try so hard at anything in his life— not as hard as he tried for you.

It took weeks after that first day that you’d transferred into Jujutsu High during his third year to even get you to look at him. And sure, he knew that his flirting was rusty given the fact that he’d… never done it, but he also knew he was a handsome guy, paired with his untouchable strength as a sorcerer (pun intended), and of course his sizable wealth didn’t hurt either— he figured he was a catch.

Then you came along, with your fierce personality and your killer smile and your tendency to completely walk past him each time he tried to get your attention. It was embarrassing— the amount of times he had been left in your dust, a cocky grin slowly falling from his face as he dropped whichever technique it was that he was trying to impress you with that day, his friends barely holding back their laughter at the peacock type display Gojo seemed so confident in.

He was clueless as to what he was doing wrong. Did he stink? You didn’t seem as… uninclined to interact when it was Suguru asking you how you were adjusting to a new school. Trying as hard as he could not to look as similar to a perturbed toddler as he certainly felt, he even tried inserting himself into your conversations sometimes. It often ended horribly awkward for him, your sentence usually trailing off and your eyes giving him a tentative once over before you would continue your story— definitely not as enthused as you had been prior to his interruption though.

“Do I smell?” Satoru asked with an expression of stone cold seriousness one afternoon to an exasperated Suguru, who had already had a long day as it was without his best friend’s nonsense adding onto it. The black-haired man swiveled his head around to gaze tiredly at him, allowing his face to speak for him. “No, I’m serious. Sniff me, tell me— please.”

“Get off of me.” Suguru grunted as he shoved at the boy who was currently damn near straddling his waist while shoving his exposed armpit into his friend’s face. “Why am I nose deep in your pits right now, Satoru?”

“Because I don’t know what else is wrong with me.”

“I could think of a few—”

“It’s like I don’t even exist!” Gojo pointedly interrupted that jab before tossing himself back on Geto’s bed. “I’ve done everything. I’ve taken over missions for her, I bought her that weird ass keychain she was looking at when we all went to Kyoto— I even tried doing that thing where I blocked the rain with my infinity. She pulled out an umbrella, Suguru. If I wasn’t so embarrassed I would’ve laughed my ass off.”

“Satoru—”

“I’m talking perfect comedic timing. I thought she couldn’t get hotter and now she’s funny—”

“Have you tried getting your head out of your ass?” Suguru finally raised his voice to cut through his incessant rambling.

The six eyes blinked at him a few times from behind his rounded glasses, an expression of petulance slowly overtaking his features. Crossing his arms over his chest, he looked defiantly in the other direction.

“You didn’t have to yell—”

But he was once again cut off, this time not by his aggravated friend, but the heavy thud and clatter from the next room over. Both boys’ heads snapped to look at one another with wide eyes. It was silent for a moment.

“Isn’t that…” Gojo’s question trailed off when the boy beside him nodded affirmatively with an equally concerned expression— your dorm.

In an instant, both boys were flying out of their lazed spots on the bed, fighting to squeeze through the door at the same time. It was Satoru who first pounded his fist on your door.

“Are you okay?” He shouted as Suguru finally stumbled behind him. After a moment of silence, he tried sliding the door open, but, as expected, it was locked. Pounding his fist three more times against it, he began yelling. “Hey! I’m coming in!”

He probably could have used his technique for a less… destructive route, however your lack of response was making his mind muddle with horrendous possibilities. Leaning back, one swift kick had the offending door crashing in, and both boys were quickly hopping through. You were laying in a heap on the rugged floor by your desk, a handful of your supplies strewn around you.

“Get Shoko.” Satoru commanded blindly, sliding to his knees before you to check if you were still breathing. Just as his fingers brushed against your neck though, and Suguru was halfway out the door, you stirred from your sudden coma-like state.

Your brows furrowed, and your eyes were bleary when they opened as you slowly moved to sit up. At once, the boy in front of you was pushing you back down by the shoulders.

“Don’t move until Shoko comes to see you.”

“Shoko? No, no, I’m fine.” You sluggishly brushed off his hands before carefully standing up. A sigh of irritation left you as he shot his arms out to steady you should you fall. Sure, you knew he was only trying to help, but he wasn’t exactly your favorite person, and you were slightly (severely) embarrassed that he’d found you in such a state.

“Fine?” He laughed dryly with a shake of his head. “Sweetheart, you and I have two very different definitions of fine.”

Biting back a scowl at the pet name, you bent down to begin picking up the things you’d dropped on your way to the ground. Scoffing in disbelief, he placed his hands on your shoulders to push you down to sit at your desk chair.

“Will you sit down? You just passed out—”

“I said I’m fine. You’re not my father, and you’re not my boyfriend. So you can cut the savior crap with me.” You snapped, and the regret was almost instant the second the last syllable fell from your lips.

It was hard not to get irritated with him though. Satoru and his perfect life and untouchable powers and abundance of wealth that he seemed so sure everyone would drop to their knees for. After having fought tooth and nail to prove to your family that exploring your cursed technique would be worthwhile, it felt like a slap in the face for him to be constantly boasting about how easily everything came to him.

“Yeah? Thank god for that. I’ll make sure to call your father or your boyfriend next time you decide to collapse instead of showing any sort of concern myself like a decent fucking person.”

You weren’t sure you had ever seen him actually riled up, always with a bright (albeit obnoxious) smile on his face as he tried so desperately to get everyone else as giddy as he constantly seemed to be. A pang of guilt struck you for having been the reason Gojo finally frowned. Mentally cursing yourself, you tucked your legs against your chest, chin resting on your knees as you chewed pensively on your bottom lip. He didn’t storm out as you were sure he would have, but his back was turned to you now as he stared at the door awaiting Shoko’s arrival.

“I just… I forget to eat sometimes when I’ve got alot going on.” You explained quietly, eyes cast down to your desk. From your peripheral, you saw him turn around to face you once again. “And I won’t remember until I pass out.”

It was silent for an uncomfortable minute before a strangled laugh threatened to escape the boy’s mouth. Your head shot up to glare at him in question, exasperated at his hot and cold behavior. Upon noting your irritation, he covered his mouth with his hands as if it would stop you from hearing the cackles that shook his frame.

“You know what— fuck you, Gojo.”

“No! No, I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you— I swear!” Though he was barely able to get his frantic explanation out due to his continuous giggles. He desperately tried to get himself together as you turned away from him with burning cheeks. “I-I’m laughing because… Suguru is pulling Shoko out of class as we speak to check on you, and I broke your door down, and you… just needed a burger.”

Satoru cursed himself to sleep that night as the scene replayed in his mind of you finally having opened up to him, and he pathetically wasted the opportunity by… laughing at you. Slamming his head repeatedly against his pillow, he thought perhaps you were just out of his league at this point, as he couldn’t for the life of him seem to get anything right with you.

He tried desperately to catch you alone the next week or so, but it seemed something else always had your attention. Whether it be your being sent on a mission, or spending time with Shoko (who knew Satoru had been begging to have a minute alone with you), or holed up in your room, headphones pressed snuggly over your ears as you hunched over your desk.

After the collapsing fiasco, you had been leaving your door slightly ajar for fear that it may be broken down again should you have another episode. The white-haired man couldn’t count how many times he’d strolled by the door under the guise of seeing Suguru who was just one room over. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could play that one off, because his friend was beginning to grow impatient with the way he’d slide into his room multiple times a day with nothing to say, standing there for a few minutes with his hands in his pockets so it seemed like he’d actually had some business there.

“Will you please just talk to her? You’re driving me insane.” Geto groaned out, just having been woken up from a nap by one of Satoru’s unexpected drop ins. “This is getting pathetic, Satoru.”

“I would if she didn’t look so busy all the damn time.” He grumbled, his forehead knocking against the door in aggravation.

His own words played back in his head, and they had him quickly straightening his posture, an unreadable expression on his face. Had Suguru been more conscious at the moment, perhaps he would have questioned his sudden mood shift. The black-haired boy was already slipping back into his leaden slumber though, allowing Gojo to quickly slip back out of the room without a second glance.

It was an embarrassing amount of time later when he returned to that hallway, though he wouldn’t know the difference because he’d never had to make an utter mess of the kitchen just to make himself— or anyone for that matter— lunch. Still, oblivious to just how unnecessarily chaotic he had been in the process, Satoru was standing beside your desk expectantly until you caught his imposing form in your peripheral. Pulling down your headphones, you looked up at him with confusion etched all over your tired face.

“Eat something.” Was the only explanation he gave, shoving a plate of… interestingly shaped onigiri toward you. You blinked down at the messy plate, your eyes trailing up to the hand attached to it that still had remnants of rice sticking to their fingers. Satoru pursed his lips at your silence, undoubtedly taking it as the same refusal you’d been giving his time and attention for months. “You’ve been in here all day studying. Eat something before you pass out again.”

But your silence wasn’t born out of the usual annoyance the white-haired man typically sparked in you. Instead, it was a stunned type of speechlessness, too touched and taken aback by what you thought was uncharacteristic thoughtfulness from the boy you were sure only thought about himself.

Gulping down the gentle lump in your throat, you slowly accepted the plate from him, eyes fixed on the lumps of rice staring back at you. From your peripheral, you watched him nod before resignatingly turning around to leave and let you eat in peace.

“Gojo?” He swiveled around frantically at the hesitant call of his name. There was a shy smile on your face as you looked up from the plate at him, tugging the headphones from your neck. “Aren’t you gonna stay?”

It was clear in the way he shifted his weight antsily between his feet and stopped the widening of his already unnaturally large eyes that he was trying with everything in him not to look too excited. Pretending to check the time on a watch that wasn’t present on his wrist, he nodded with feigned nonchalance.

“Uh… yeah, I can sit with you for a minute.”

“Just a minute?” You quipped with a raised brow.

“Or longer— no rush, y’know?” He quickly corrected as he yanked desperately at the bean bag in the corner of your room to sit beside you. The plush cushion was dragged so close to your desk chair that you wouldn’t be able to roll it away from him if you tried.

You smiled knowingly at him, holding out the plate for him to take one of the rice balls.

“Those are for you.” Satoru shook his head, pushing the plate back toward you.

“What would I do without you?” You teased, though there was a poorly concealed sincerity behind your fond eyes that had his heart beating out of his chest. With an amused smile, you shook your head at him. “Gojo, look, I appreciate the sentiment, but you made these the size of baseballs. Take one.”

A furious blush overtook his features at your words. It was admittedly quite refreshing to see the typically haughty sorcerer actually embarrassed, and it made him seem more human to you despite the lightyears of differences that seemed to separate you two. Sinking into his seat, his knees were nearly touching his chest thanks to the combination of the low seat and his freakishly long legs.

“I’ve never really made anything before.” He confessed through a sheepish murmur as he finally picked up one of his messy creations. “Guess cooking isn’t one of my countless innate talents.”

“Are you telling me the strongest sorcerer has a flaw?” You gasped dramatically, revelling in the way he narrowed his striking eyes at you from behind his glasses in feigned offense. They had slipped down his nose, revealing those long, white lashes that would have any woman green with envy.

“Can’t have it all, can I?” That infuriatingly charming smirk of his attempted to catch you off guard, but you fought past the urge to melt for him just as everyone else did so willingly. It was taking all of his own willpower to not squirm in anticipation under your gaze, what with the way you seemed to study him so closely.

“Well, that would imply you’ve got everything else.”

“Don’t I?”

“How about some shame? Humility? Social aware—”

“Would you please just eat?”

Though Satoru’s damn near shameful attempt at onigiri wasn’t exactly gonna win him any culinary awards anytime soon, it certainly won him something even better— your long-awaited attention. That next day in class, he had all but walked past you and Shoko, who were huddled beside each other discussing the reversed curse technique that you had been desperately trying to learn more about.

He figured, as you always had in the past, that you didn’t want him budding into your conversations. You caught his towering figure in your peripheral, that stark, white hair traceable in even the largest of crowds. It made your words trail mid-sentence, and you smiled apologetically at your friend before shifting around to call out to him. The typically cool-demeanored boy nearly tripped over his own feet when you asked him to join you two to give his opinion on the matter.

Shoko’s eyes rolled, a poorly concealed smirk of amusement poking up around her lit cigarette as he raced over, pushing his friend not-so-subtly aside with his shoulder in order to take the spot next to you.

It seemed as though he knew that each time you graced him with your attention, he had to make sure he made it worth your while, and he began spouting off on a shockingly eloquent rant about the subject at hand. You hadn’t been aware that he was actually… quite intelligent under all that bravado and foolishness. In fact, you were quickly learning, as you watched him turn red in the face from the speed at which he was info-dumping, that Satoru was kind of a giant nerd.

This newfound side of him that you’d been a fool not to allow him the chance to show to you, made you actually start to understand why everyone seemed to be so fond of him. Aside from his boyish charm and knockout face, he was an avid intellectual— a trait he always seemed to be bursting at the seams to share with anyone who would listen to him.

The two of you traded books and tips, and he tried to reel back his innate cockiness each time he was able to teach you something you didn’t know, though you were quickly beginning to understand that haughtiness was simply part of the Satoru Gojo package. Alongside his surprising thoughtfulness and undeniable ability to make you crack a smile even in your lowest of moods, you decided that you could let his occasional arrogance slide.

Despite all your best attempts to maintain your nonchalance at the man who wore the title of the strongest like the boldest of tattoos across his forehead, no levels of his infuriating infinity could even keep you away from falling right into Satoru’s orbit. Even the heavens above knew that nothing would keep him from pulling you right in either.

That was why even all these years later, no one in this world could have convinced you that the same boy who fought tooth and nail for your affection as a mere teenager would have abandoned you so carelessly now.

“Would you please just eat?”

Those painstakingly familiar words were now falling from the lips of Megumi Fushiguro, who, alongside his fellow students, seemed to be the only evidence of the white-haired man you had had contact with in the days following your fiance’s battle with the King of Curses. The ring on your left hand only served to mock you the longer this charade went on.

You looked up from the glimmering stone to glare haphazardly up at the raven-haired boy before you. He was clutching a tray of somen noodles within his scarred hands, his face firm with exasperation despite the disheartened glint in his dark eyes. Ignoring the furious growls in your stomach at the sight of the dish, you glanced to the side.

“It’s been three days, Megumi.” You stated monotonously, but the tears that brimmed in your waterline betrayed you. “If he died, then just tell me. I can handle—”

“He doesn’t want to see you. He left.” The boy repeated for what must have been the tenth time since breaking the news to you.

Itadori and Kugisaki trailed just outside the entrance of the common area where you had taken up residence in protest of Gojo’s sudden disappearance. Fushiguro had always been closer to you than the others had, what with your having been there when his benefactor took him in. The other two student’s weren’t sure they could handle that broken look in your eyes as well as their aloof counterpart could.

“He wouldn’t have left like this.” You insisted through gritted teeth, swiping furiously at the traitorous tears that raced down your sunken cheeks. “Tell him if he wants to leave me that he can come say it to my face. Until then, take your food and go come up with a better excuse.”

The shadow-user sighed desolately at your continued refusal. He only wished he could tell you that he wanted nothing more than for his mentor to man up and come face you himself. It was killing him to see you waste away like this with the hopes that it would draw Gojo out from wherever it was he was hiding. You had refused to leave that stiff couch, refused to eat, refused to accept the lies your fiance had told them to give you to explain his absence.

While it infuriated him to no end, Megumi could also, for once, understand the white-haired man’s ever-confusing decisions. Despite that part of him that felt he would have likely done the same thing, the boy knew deep down that you would be able to handle this situation far better than what Gojo was giving you credit for.

Setting the tray down on the table in front of you, Megumi nodded to his friends to leave you be once again. It was now his turn to report back to the man of the hour, hoping that something would get through to him if he heard how long it had been since you’d moved an inch.

Your form of protest was skillfully thought out, because you were right— it was killing Satoru to know that you were wasting away by yourself in that desolate common room. After all these years, it would have been foolish of him to assume that you wouldn’t know the best ways to get under his skin. Perhaps he should have had them tell you he was dead, though he was selfishly worried about the permanent consequences that lie would have. That, and he had a feeling that somehow you two were far too soul-tied for you to not be able to tell if he’d truly left this earth or not.

The supposed strongest was trying desperately to stay resolute in his decision, because if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that he no longer deserved you. After everything he’d done, everything he hadn’t been strong enough to do, Satoru couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping beside you each night knowing what he was once capable of, now that he was no longer.

What would you think of him? Even if you did accept him as he was now, would it only be out of pitiful obligation? He wasn’t sure he could stomach the idea of you shifting your life to accommodate him— not when he had made it his life’s mission since you two were teenagers to assure you never had to lift a finger if it wasn’t what you truly wanted to do.

Satoru would hardly be able to blame you. When he got down on one knee, you had agreed to marry a version of him that no longer existed— one that was an unstoppable force, that could protect and please you without so much as breaking a sweat. This version of himself that he was now being forced to come to terms with was worthless, only a shell of his former self that you had fallen in love with.

The stubbornness that he had grown to love since you first turned your cheek to him all those years ago was only infuriating him now. It was making it that much harder to leave you behind as he knew was best for you when you were reminding him with each passing day how well you knew him, and he wasn’t sure anyone had ever understood him on such a level— and no one ever would again.

After nearly a week of this back and forth, with your only leaving your post to shower and barely accepting food, Satoru wasn’t sure if he’d be able to wait out your stubborn protest as he thought would be his only option. Each day, he’d tell himself that you’d cave eventually— you’d give up and go back home. You would move on and live your life until you forgot about him, safe from the burden of who he’d become. Each day though, you proved him wrong.

The lights of the common room had already dimmed for the night, the only illumination coming from the gentle rays of the moon’s glow as it creeped in through the windows. Winter was taking its toll on the campus, especially the room you’d stubbornly decided to stay put in for the past week or so. At least if you had been at home, the comfort of your heater promised protection from the building cold.

Despite how much your body trembled under the solace of the blanket Megumi had brought for you, you knew that home wouldn’t be nearly as comforting as the trick of nostalgia was telling you— not without Satoru there to share that warmth.

Curling in on yourself, you stared blankly at the low table in front of you where another tray of food had been left untouched. Truthfully, a part of you wondered how much longer you could keep this protest up, only the occasional pack of soda crackers fortifying you as you waited out Satoru’s absence. The more stubborn side of you said you’d wither away here on this unforgiving couch if it meant you at least went down trying.

The soft patter of snow falling against the windows lulled your stinging eyes shut. Even your dreams had been desperately trying to make sense of your fiance’s uncharacteristic abandonment. Nightmares plagued you most nights, Satoru being at the forefront of each one; they all ended in his horrendous death— because death was the only logical explanation you could conjure up for him leaving you behind so mercilessly.

Tonight’s cinematic retelling of the endless possibilities of his final fate had you awakening with a start. No matter how many nights now that you had spent reliving the same grief over and over again, no amount of repitition could stop the way the tears that should have run out by now would pour from your eyes first thing each morning.

The moon was still watching over you when you decided to pull yourself from your latest nightmare. Panting out through strained sobs, the blanket slipped down your shoulders upon your abrupt descent into a sitting position. It didn’t take you long to realize that you weren’t alone tonight, despite the criminally early hour it must have been.

Your wide, burning eyes blinked a few times at the man standing before you as though he might vanish back into the depths of your imagination should you clear your bleary eyes enough. He remained firmly in his place, silent as death as you processed the scene you had woken up to.

He figured you might yell at him, hit him with all the force of a scorned woman, tell him off for having disappeared, but you only assessed him quietly. With narrowed eyes, you took in the way his hair had grown out slightly past his normal length, covering his forehead in a manner that almost seemed intentional. His dark-rimmed glasses covered up the eyes that you had been longing to see for so long, almost mocking you as your own reflection stared back at you through the lenses.

Satoru— he was standing right before you, shoulders rising and falling, but silent, and uncharacteristically so. You’d be able to pick him out of a crowd, you were sure of it, but there was something so different about him now as he stared down at you. The tendrils of cursed energy that were typically flowing out of him in overwhelming waves no longer filled the air around you. They once blanketed you in their demanding presence, but now the air surrounding you was lighter, his energy a stark difference to the one you had grown used to.

Slowly, you stood from the couch, the frigid touch of the wood floors permeating the thick layer of your socks and sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes never left his concealed ones as you rose to stand just a hair’s breadth away from him. His Adam's apple bobbed at your sudden proximity, and it was taking all of his already frail energy to not wrap you in his arms to chase away the cold that dared to bite at your frame.

The man flinched back notably as your hand reached up for his glasses, but it didn’t deter you from carefully pulling them off of his face. He closed his eyes though, desperately resolute in his attempt to conceal the truth from you.

“Look at me.”

Your simple demand nearly broke his resolve after so long of longing to hear that melodic voice of yours again. Clenching his jaw, he slowly allowed his eyes to open, unsure of why he thought you wouldn’t be able to tell that something was different about him.

And different it was.

Satoru’s once other-worldly, glittering eyes that shone with the promise of his earth-shattering abilities were now dulled— still that breathtaking blue that you had come to love, however the absence of the trait he prided himself so devoutly on was evident, even in the dim moonlight.

You watched as he tried to keep his face neutral, but that fierce insecurity that was so rare to see on him was breaking through his changed eyes. There was no explanation needed— you understood now with stunning clarity why he had tried to stay away.

He must have taken your silence for horror, his lips pulling into a firm line as he leaned down to grab the tray of food he had come here with the intention of delivering to you himself. The carefully prepared meal was shoved forward.

“Eat.”

His firm order shook you from your trance, and you were now beginning to notice the countless scars lining his face and arms that hadn’t been there when you kissed him goodbye that dreaded morning before the battle. Blinking back the mist in your eyes, you sniffled and shook your head at him, squaring your shoulders in a fierce display of determination.

“I want to eat at home.” You explained through calculated eye contact. “Take me home, Satoru.”

It was becoming increasingly difficult to conceal the pain it was igniting in him to refuse you. Painting a scowl onto his features, he pressed the tray against your chest.

“I didn’t change my mind.” He insisted unyieldingly, hoping the contempt he was feigning was convincing. “I’m leaving, I don’t want to be with you anymore. Now— eat.”

His words were undoubtedly a slap in the face, evident in the way you flinched back subtly. Gulping down the lump in your throat, your eyes trailed down his visibly tired frame once again. His arms were trembling ever so slightly with the weight of the tray in his hands, and you were now noticing the matching scars circling both his arms.

“You don’t want to be with me anymore?” You repeated, though your question came out more like a statement, and it took him a moment before he reminded himself to offer a solid nod in confirmation.

With a solemn nod of your own, you took the tray from him to place it back on the table before tugging the engagement ring off of your finger. His face contorted gut-wrenchingly at the sight, barely able to register what you were doing as you lifted his hand to place the ring in the center of it. Your expression remained fiercely neutral as you held out your own palm to him. He only blinked down at you, a misty haze clouding his gaze.

“Give me your ring.” You demanded simply.

It had been glaring at you since you first opened your eyes and saw him, glimmering under the faint glow of the moon. The promise ring you had given him in exchange for the one he gifted you on your third anniversary together— it was still sat proudly on his left-hand’s ring finger, awaiting to be replaced by a wedding band just as he’d replaced yours with an engagement ring only a few months ago.

He swallowed thickly at your request, but you only shook your outstretched palm at him in expectation. Looking down at his left hand, his thumb absentmindedly rolled over the silver band, feeling the indents of you two’s initials carved into the metal under his fingertip. Despite his best efforts to control his expression, his bottom lip trembled at the implications of what he was about to do. Your heart cracked as you watched the tears pool in his eyes. Dropping his head, he allowed his hair to curtain over his eyes as the salty streams began pouring down his cheeks.

“Don’t do this to me.” He whispered desolately with a shake of his head. A heavy sigh fell from your lips, drooping your shoulders in the process.

“Then put that ring back on my finger and take me home, Toru.”

“And then what?” Satoru exclaimed, finally looking up at you through the blur of his frustrated tears. The abrupt motion shifted his rustled hair, revealing a sliver of the thick scar running across his forehead. “I’m not the same man you agreed to marry.”

“Don’t be ridiculous—”

“Look at me!” His furious command had you flinching back ever-so-slightly. “I can barely stand on my own two feet without running out of breath. I’m weak— I lost damn near everything, and I’m not the same Satoru anymore, okay?”

“Then I will walk with you every fucking day until you get better. I never loved you because you were strong, so I don’t give a shit if you’re weak now, Satoru. And don’t you dare stand there and tell me you lost everything because I am still here, and no amount of scars are going to make me leave.”

An agonized sob shook his frame, and he was quickly stumbling forward to sink onto the couch with a wince. Tears of your own began slipping down your face as you moved to sit beside him. He buried his face into his hands, your engagement ring still hanging on the tip of his pinky finger.

“I don’t have anything left to give you.” His pained whisper struck you in the chest.

Leaning forward, you carefully wrapped your arm around his bicep. There was an attempted subtly in the way you ran your fingertips delicately over the new scar circling the muscle, and you tried not to cry out as your mind put two and two together of what could have possibly happened to warrant such symmetrical marks across his body. As you tucked your chin onto his shoulder, he finally peered over at you. You offered him a wistful smile even through your tears.

“When have I ever asked anything more of you than to stay with me?”

Just like all those years ago in your dorm room, Satoru couldn’t bear to deny you— not when you asked him so sweetly with those wide, hopeful eyes of yours. He slipped your ring back onto its rightful place and pressed a lingering kiss to the stone. The wetness of his tears dripped onto your hand, but you couldn’t possibly think of a better feeling after having gone so long without him.

It wasn’t until you two finally made it back to your shared home that night that he realized that in the haste of his giving into you once again, he had all but forgotten about why it was so important to him that he stay away.

“Why don’t you take a hot shower? You’re still shaking, you wimp.” Satoru tried to sound lightheaded, poking fun at you like was once so common for him, but nothing about this new arrangement would ever be common again.

You glanced over your shoulder from the sink, where you had busied yourself cleaning the bowls you two had just eaten from. It admittedly took longer than you had expected to finish eating, as your fiancé kept pushing more food onto your plate to make up for the hunger strike he was still grumbling about that you went on.

Turning back to place the final dish on the drying rack, you smiled fondly.

“That depends, are you gonna come help warm me up?”

Your teasing offer made the smile slowly slip from his face, though you wouldn’t see it with your back turned to him. He looked down at himself— the scars that now littered his body and how difficult even the most mundane of tasks had become for him in his gruelling recovery. The gentle hum of question that escaped you at his sudden silence reminded him that you were still expecting a response.

“Well, I—”

“C’mon, I’ll meet you there.” Your airy invitation cut off whatever excuse he was about to make, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you knew exactly what he was thinking as you made your way to your shared bedroom, ruffling at his already tousled hair on the way. He remained idly at the table, staring down at himself hesitantly as the soft patters of the running shower reached his ears.

It had been quite some time since you two were last intimate— what with his being sealed and the immediate need for his services following his release. Sex had never been an area of insecurity for Satoru. After all, he was strong and confident, and he never once had to doubt your attraction toward him. Now though, his stamina wasn’t the same, and his body sure as hell didn’t look as aesthetically pleasing as it had the last time he’d bared himself to you.

Carefully standing from his seat, he stretched out his stiff muscles before practically dragging his feet toward the room he once couldn’t wait to get you alone in. The bathroom had already steamed up considerably from the scorching water you always liked boiling yourself in. The apprehensive man hovered in the doorway, lips parting at the sight of your heavenly silhouette through the fogged, glass shower door.

“Toru?” You called out upon hearing the door creak open a bit further.

Cracking the shower open, you poked your head through with an anticipatory smile, but it quickly fell upon seeing the sullen expression on his face and the way his fingers twisted in uncertainty into the hem of his shirt.

“It’s just me, babe.” You offered gently, and he responded with a barely noticeable nod.

“Yeah, just… give me a minute. I’ll be right there.”

He was grateful that you were gracious enough to recognize his need for your patience as you nodded in understanding and slipped back into the shower. Glancing up at the ceiling in hopes that he wouldn’t catch his own reflection in the mirror, he carefully lifted his shirt over his head, wincing faintly at the stretch. His bottoms were soon joining the discarded top on the marble floor. The mirror in his peripheral taunted him, and he kept his gaze cast down as he slowly made his way to the shower.

You smiled upon hearing the door slide open behind you, biting your cheek in anticipation of his warm hands sliding around your middle— because Lord knows your fiance was never known for his ability to keep his hands to himself. Those wandering hands never came though, and you gradually peered over your shoulder.

He was standing just outside the shower stream, arms hovering hesitantly at his sides. The expression on his face appeared angry— not at you though, almost as though there was a self-inflicted war waging in his mind as he awaited your reaction. You blinked the continuously running water from your eyes as you turned fully around to face him. After a moment of careful, reassuring eye contact, you allowed your eyes to drift down over his tense frame.

There were a myriad of the tiniest slashes running across nearly every inch of him. Even more striking though, was the thick, jagged scar circling the entire circumference of his waist. The lump in the back of your throat made it nearly impossible to swallow down the tears threatening to spill out. Still, you did so for his sake, because the cautionary glint in his eyes told you he was waiting for your disapproval.

The tips of your fingers reached out to graze the area carefully, knowing that despite how much the RCT must have sped along the healing process, it likely still felt fresh. He shivered under the featherlight touch of your fingertips. Your glistening body drew closer to him, and he wasn’t sure whether his insecurity would be stronger than his lust for you as your breasts grazed his chest.

With a fond hum, your hands drifted up his chest to circle around his neck. He tried to conceal his grunt of effort as he leaned down to your level in order to kiss you properly. Nearly slipping as you lifted yourself on your tiptoes to help him, his hands immediately shot forward to steady you shakily.

With all the doubts running through his mind, he expected you to huff in frustration, to pull away from him as he certainly wouldn’t blame you for doing. You only smiled witsfully against his dewy lips though, the bridge of your nose brushing against his as you whispered sincerely.

“I missed you.”

Still, Satoru wasn’t sure that his long awaited presence would ever be enough.

After some time, you agreed to go back to work at the school, especially since Gojo was nowhere near prepared to get back into the swing of things. Though no one dared speak it into existence, everyone had already silently accepted the fact that he’d likely never be able to take on missions like he once did. More hands off teaching— sure, though it felt like a slap in the face compared to what he once was capable of.

It wasn’t as though this was something new you were needing to jump into now. No, you had begun working as soon as you graduated just as he had. The difference was, you worked with the understanding that you really didn’t need to be doing it, and your partner always made sure you knew that you could quit at any time under the safety of his sizable wealth. Now though, there was a significant need for more help with the students in Gojo’s absence, and it was eating him alive that you now felt responsible for picking up that slack despite your insistence that you wanted to help.

Satoru had no clue anymore just what it was that he was providing you in this relationship.

“Baby, they’ll be fine.” He pleaded for the upteenth time, unable to bear the thought of you breaking your own back while he stays at home— utterly useless. “They can wait a little longer until I come back.”

You smiled with a shake of your head, slathering on some of that lotion you always wore before bed that never failed to drive him crazy.

“I’ve been home for the past week. You’re not sick of seeing me?”

He scoffed as though personally offended by your accusation. Shifting forward to replace your hands with his own, he kissed your shoulder as his hands continued to work the cream into your thighs from behind. The tiniest sparks of hope ignited in him when you sighed quietly under your breath, your head gently falling back against his bare chest at the sensation of the devastatingly familiar ridges on his fingertips against your skin.

Being intimate with you again was something he was pointedly avoiding— too ashamed of his own body to feel remotely confident enough to engage in it, and far too worried the new stress on this body would make for a comparably disappointing experience than what you were used to. Even so, he could see it on your face and feel it in your wanton sighs just how much you had missed him, and it was becoming harder and harder for him to act as though he didn’t miss it too.

“I’ll never get sick of you.” Satoru breathed sincerely against your cheek, his thumbs digging desolately into the fat of your inner thighs. They parted in anticipation at his languid motions, allowing his hand to slip up the loose leg of your silken sleep shorts.

“Promise?” You teased breathlessly, fisting the fabric of his sweatpants as his fingers creeped up your fluttering core.

“With everything in me.” Though he wasn’t sure just how much that entailed anymore.

Maybe, he thought as he dipped two fingers into your awaiting heat, if he could at least make love to you he wouldn’t feel like a complete waste of space— like there was still something he could give you even if it meant pushing the limits of his already fragile body. His arm began to ache in tandem with his steady rhythm, but you were whimpering so sweetly into his ear as though he still deserved to hear it.

Leaning down, Satoru captured your lips in a frenzied attempt to swallow up all the pent up energy spilling from your plush lips. In his lust-clouded mind, he thought maybe it would heal him, breathe life back into his sore muscles and tingling nerve endings that taunted him with every curl of his fingers against your sweet walls. Your mouth parted involuntarily against his in a blissed cry, and it was enough to convince him that— maybe he did still have it in him.

Offering a forlorn moan of his own, your fiancé frantically parted from you to push you back down against the mattress, each scarred over stitch across his torso screaming in protest, but he had something to prove now as he allowed his sweatpants to fall to the floor.

Your half lidded eyes drank him in greedily, relieved to see that despite his carefully calculated restraint throughout the past few days, he still wanted you just as much as you had been craving him. Slipping your shorts down easily, neither of you seemed patient enough to waste anymore time after so long without one another.

Satoru climbed back onto the bed, hoping you didn’t notice his wince of effort on the way. It seemed he was in the clear though, and your graceful fingers slipped up his nape and tangled into his freshly cut hair. Though he wasn’t too keen on the idea of going to a barbershop just yet— what with the peculiar scar running across his forehead, he had agreed to sit on the closed toilet lid just a few nights prior as you stood between his spread legs and carefully trimmed the wisps of white hair that had grown past his wide eyes.

You were so grateful that you did, because now your view of those messianic eyes was unobstructed and knocking the air straight from your lungs as they always had the unique power of doing. With a heart that felt as though it was turning to mush under his zealous gaze, your impatient hands circled his hips carefully to pull his already lined up length into you.

“God— I missed you so much.” He gasped, though he could barely get his words out through the desperate kisses he was pressing against any inch of you he could reach. You moaned in relief, tears threatening to pool in your eyes at the intensity of the long-awaited connection. “I’ll never leave you again— I swear. I’m sorry, I love you. Fuck, you feel—”

You cut him off with a sloppily aimed kiss, a fond smile breaking through your lips as you realized that of course, if his near death was going to leave him with one thing, it was going to be his rapid-fire tongue. Satoru only whined against your mouth, forgoing his previous caution and shifting his hips forward to roll into you. His stamina was already dwindling by the second, emphasized by the growing tenderness in his torso, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t see you through your much deserved climax.

“You okay, Toru?” You panted against his lips, taking note of the way his fist trembled against the sheets beside your head.

“‘M perfect— don’t worry about me.” He lied, dipping down to nip at your collarbone in hopes of distracting you from the clear discomfort racing through his bones. “You’re perfect, keep making those pretty noises for me, yeah?”

It was enough to placate you for just a second longer, unable to deny him as the pitched moans continued flowing from your lips. Your pliancy spurred him on, making him feel far more confident than he should have in his current state as he ran a heated hand down your body to hook it behind your thigh. It wasn’t until he lifted it over his shoulder to snap his hips up in that way he was so used to making you melt, that a strangled curse fell through his gritted teeth.

“Satoru—”

“I’m fine, please.” Your fiance quickly implored even through the pained scrunch of his striking features. His hand fell from your thigh to cup your face, squishing your cheeks between his frenzied fingers as it was clear the once blissed expression on your face was falling in place of frantic concern.

“You’re not—”

“I am. C’mon, let me take care of you—”

“Satoru, get off.”

The continued plea that was preparing to escape him got caught unceremoniously in his throat at your command. Gulping down the bile that threatened to rise up his throat, his blown out eyes searched your face while he slowly inched away from you. Shuffling up onto your elbows, you carefully pushed him onto his back, falling safely against the mountain of feathery pillows.

His face remained solemn as you crawled over him, and though he had never been one to deny the sight of you on top of him, with the silken skin of your thighs glistening in the moonlight that flowed in through the windows and the flimsy sleeves of your tank top slid halfway down your arm— the fact still remained that it was because he couldn’t do it. The very body hindering him betrayed him as his jaw dropped at the bittersweet feeling of you sinking down onto him.

It shouldn’t have mattered. Your face still mirrored the very bliss it reflected when he had you beneath him, but every roll of your supple hips that inched him closer to his release felt like a slash to his already mutilated chest. How could you still look at him with such admiration, and who the fuck was he if not the strongest anymore?

That night, you slept soundly beside him, curled carefully into his side with all the peace of someone who’d just made love to a partner they’d long believed dead. It drew a smooth tranquility over each crease and furrow that once dared to disturb your delicate face, your lips parted crookedly due to your cheek’s positioning against his chest.

Dawn creeped closer and closer with the looming threat of what he’d soon be forced to accept while sleep drifted farther from his reach. His eyes burned as they stared down at your slumbering figure for hours on end, willing himself to be able to see every atom that worked in angelic harmony to make up his love the way his six eyes once allowed him the privilege of. He only grew more restless as the mundanity of his pupils only graced him with the surface level of your fathomless allure.

Blinking away the haze that had glazed over his tired eyes, Satoru looked away from you for the first time in hours to glance at the time on the clock. It wouldn’t be long before your wretched alarm would be waking you to get ready and shoulder the burden that was once his alone. With a huff of vexation, he carefully maneuvered himself out from under you, replacing himself with the body pillow you always used in his absence.

A strained wince escaped him as he stood quietly from the bed, yet no amount of stretching seemed to soothe what he feared would be an everpresent ache. Willing himself through it, he used his foot to scoop his discarded sweatpants up in order to avoid bending down and reminding himself of his deficits.

The lights of the kitchen nearly blinded his sleepless irises when he flicked them on, and he groaned while attempting to adjust to the sudden onslaught. His shoulders fell slowly as he looked around the kitchen in uncertainty, opening up various cabinets until he found the small collection of bento boxes the two of you had accumulated over the years.

Gojo chewed at his bottom lip in concentration, rummaging through nearly every utensil drawer and refrigerator shelf in his pursuit. It was actually a damn miracle he didn’t wake you up in his chaotic gathering of tools and ingredients— what with each grunt of effort as he squatted and reached above his head in search of a specific pot or seasoning.

Despite his best efforts to take it easy, his mounting frustration only grew with each tremor of his hand as he attempted to cut up the leftover salmon you two had eatent the night before into tiny chunks. With a shake of his head, he tightened his grip around the base of the knife in determination, praying to whichever god had forsaken him that he could just do this one thing for you.

In typical Gojo fashion, there was a trail of chaos being left in his wake— bonito flakes spilled about the counter and used utensils strewn all around him by the time he was finally finishing up what would have been a simple project if at the hands of anyone else. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of your alarm going off in the next room, and it had him speeding up his movements in a frantic attempt to get everything organized before you stepped out.

“Toru?” Your voice was still laced with sleep by the time your gentle footsteps were making their way out into the kitchen.

Washing off the remaining bits of sticky rice clinging to his fingers, he swiveled around to face you. Your eyes widened a bit upon seeing the flush of effort still staining his face, but he smiled tiredly at you nonetheless, a subtle timidness behind his eyes that you hadn’t seen on him in so long. Stepping forward slowly, you eyed him carefully as he wiped his trembling hands on his already stained sweatpants.

“You sleep okay?” He mumbled into the crown of your head as he pulled you into his chest, careful not to mess up the style you had placed it in for work.

“Yeah,” You answered hesitantly, pressing a kiss to his chest before pulling away from him and adjusting your bag over your shoulder. “What are you doing up so early?”

Averting his gaze from you bashfully, he turned around to grab the neatly folded bag to present to you, weighed down by the brim-stuffed bento box he had placed in it. Staring down at it to avoid looking in your eyes, he pursed his lips awkwardly as though embarrassed by his attempt at packing you a lunch.

“They’ll probably be up your ass all day since they’ve been short.” Satoru began, his fingers drumming quietly against the bag with a small shrug of his shoulders. “Don’t need you passing out on me.”

His attempted chuckle at his half-hearted joke came out hesitantly as he watched you blink owlishly down at the bag outstretched to you in offering. You slowly took the bag from him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your glossed lips. He reached up to scratch at the nape of his neck in uncertainty.

“It’s just some rice balls, but I can probably go out today and get some—”

You cut him off, reaching up onto your tip-toes to press an appreciative kiss to his jaw.

“What would I do without you?” Your love-sick smile caught him by surprise, a dumb-struck expression falling onto his flushed face.

Before he could stammer out a response (not that his short-circuiting mind would be capable of coherent speech right now), you pressed one more, longing kiss to his lips before promising to see him later that night and rushing out the door.

Satoru stared absently at the door that had just closed behind you as a gradual understanding flooded his consciousness. Perhaps it was just because it had been so long since he felt the need to fight for your approval, or maybe it was that he simply never learned his lesson, no matter how much you had worked to engrain it into him over all these years. It was hardly fair to blame him though, given that all the love he’d ever been shown had those six eyes of his trailing not too far behind.

But you— you had never batted an eye at his status, or his money, and certainly not his powers. All those years ago it had only taken some horribly disfigured rice balls for you to fall for him, stubbornly never too impressed by his technique or silver tongue.

It was a few, lovingly crafted onigiri that helped you recognize his place in your life, and it was the very thing that, even all these years later, was helping him recognize it as well.

a/n: inner theater kid effectively placated thank u

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

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leafyeyes417 · 2 days ago

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Added to the chat

So I’ve seen this done in BNHA fandom quite often but never for DPxDC so lets do it

—————————————————————————

Danny and Tucker were tinkering with their gear, trying to make things easier for themselves. Currently they were making their phones run on ecto so they would both be untraceable and never run out of energy.

Danny, his tongue sticking out, said “I think… I’m finished.” There was a beep and he closed up the back and started making sure it all worked. “Alright Tuck, time for your stuff while I do your phone.” Swapping phones Tuck began adding in all the info from their old phones and added a ghost firewall. Wouldn’t hold Technus if he was determined but made it so he couldn’t just possess the tech immediately.

Later, Danny is lying in his bed when he notices a new chat on his phone. It confused him because he already had his friend chat, who else would he have a chat with?

————

The Batfam were in their family chat just speaking about their day when there was an alert.

New member added: Phantom

Coffee-not-sleep: Uh? Did we get a new family member?

UnDead: Seriously?! Again?!

Bendy_Pretzel: No? B said nothing about any adoptions when I saw him today.

SilentShadow: New sibling!

I-See-All: Not sure how but they were not added to the chat the normal way.

BloodSon: Tt. So they are an intruder then? Can you not remove them?

PurpleGlitter: I mean, could be fun? Just need to make a new chat for the private things!

Daylight: Maybe they are a meta? Could be nice to not be the only one.

I-See-All: Unable to remove them. Not sure how but the code is almost alive and I would probably pass out before I could get through it.

Phantom: Uh? How did I get added to some chat? I mean I was fixing my phone today but it shouldn’t have added me anywhere?

BloodSon: Speak Intruder. Who are you and what do you want? *sword drawn*

Bendy_Pretzel: Dami that isn’t going to make them want to talk to us.

Phantom: Nah it’s fine. Name’s Danny. I do gotta ask though, you want me to leave? I can probably delete my chat or get my hacker friend to do it if you want.

PurpleGlitter: No way! This will be fun! Need to get an outside perspective. Gotham is weird so we need someone normal!

UnDead: As long as we don’t tell B I’m game.

SilentShadow: ❤️❤️❤️

Coffee-not-sleep: Stay. I will figure out this living firewall. How the hell do you even do this?

Phantom: yeah first of all if you wanted a normal outside perspective that is not me. Second, the firewall isn’t living. But I’m not saying any more than that.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom #batfam #Some of the things Danny texts them about confuse them because they have no context #Trying to find his location is impossible much to Tim’s increasing frustration #Danny would probably traumatize them #They all wonder how they found someone with a town even weirder than them #Even if the GIW try a blackout on Amity the signal can get through because ectoplasm is everywhere #Sometime after the whole Pariah Dark event Danny asks them for help because things are getting bad #Does he find out they are the bats? idk but even if he doesn’t they aren’t under the lockdown so that helps

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alphajocklover · 21 hours ago

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So I’m at my best friend’s house and something weird happened. He just told me how much he knew I love muscular guys with strong facial hair and said he had a really early birthday gift. He took a selfie then took a picture of me and now, I feel all weird and foggy in my head. I think I can see his big fat…dick through his briefs. I rubbed my face and, do I have mutton chops growing in? I just, please help me I’m not sure what’s going on, I don’t think I like it

First off, I’d like to wish you a happy early birthday! Turning 22 isn’t the most exciting thing ever, certainly not as fun as turning 21, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy it! And before you correct me and say that it's not your actual birthday yet, or that’s you’re not turning 22, let me just say this: give it a moment.

You feel that tingling across your body? The strange sensation that’s like a sunburn that somehow underneath got underneath your skin, or static electricity dancing across your muscles. That’s the app your friend downloaded doing its job. I’ve talked before about InstaJock, the app that turns people who use it into a jock, and how there seem to be people making knockoffs of it as well, but as the app has grown in popularity, some of the knockoffs have gained traction too. I’d even venture to call a few of them legitimate competitors. Most have done so by finding a gimmick and carving themselves out a place in the digital tf world. Fratbook, for example, is an app that works a lot like this InstaJock, except every more of a frat boy lean. SnapBack does internet fuckboys, Redsky does conservative men, etcetera. There are even some more far out ones, like Polygraph, which is kind of like Twitter (or X or whatever) except everything you post becomes true. But I’m getting way off track, we should get back to you.

I can’t be entirely sure what app your friend used on you, but I doubt the specifics matter anymore. By this point the burning in your muscles and the itch of hair growing across your face and body is unbearable, but it doesn’t remotely compare to the dull warmth that's spread through your head. You said that you didn’t think you liked the change at first, but right now it’s hard to think at all, especially with your friend's fat dick swinging in your face. You weren’t sure when he took out his cock, or when you got on your knees, but as the heat in your muscles calmed to a dull throb, and your new thick black hair has settled across your body, you find yourself just going with the flow. Why wouldn’t you bro? Everything just feels so fucking good!

Now I have good news, better news, and even better news! The good news is that whatever your friend has done is probably temporary. It was a gift after all, and he also transformed himself, so you’re probably both going to just enjoy being hairy hunks for a while. The better news is that you probably have a boyfriend now, if that's what you want. Your friend probably knew you would hook up, and this might have been your way of seeing if you’re also into him, while living out his fantasy. The better news is that, if you want, it doesn’t have to be temporary. Once you’ve turned back to normal, and you and your ‘best friend’ have had a little talk, reach out. If you guys want to spend more time in your dumb, beefy, hair forms, I might be able to help. ---------- Hey guys! So, I know most people skip over the little out of character updates I sometimes put at the bottom of my stories, but I'm hoping you guys take a second to look at this one because I have a bit of an announcement. I realized yesterday that on February 17th, in just five days, this blog will be a year old! I know I'm only just getting back into doing this, but I'm so proud that I've actually stuck with this for a full year! So I want to celebrate! So, I'm going to be temporarily reopening my ask for...

An Alphaversary QNA!

What makes this QNA special is that you won't just be asking me questions. You can ask a question to me, my character, or any of the characters I've written about in any of my stories! The answers will probably be shorter than my usual work, but will give you guys the chance to ask about anything thats confused you, dig deeper into the world building, or even check up on a character or concept that you're curious about. This will go until February 24th, the day I posted my first original story! Don't be afraid to ask away! Thanks for coming on this journey with me you guys! I can't wait for another badass year!

#muscle growth tf #muscle tf #jock tf #jock transformation #jockification #nerd to jock #instajock tf #1 year Alphaversary!

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ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit · 2 days ago

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You break down into tears and tell them: "It’s been so long since I’ve felt this happy, I think I just got overwhelmed. You make me happy.”

Heartslabyul dorm; Savanaclaw dorm; Octavinelle dorm; Scarabia dorm; Pomefiore Dorm (here); Ignihyde Dorm; Diasomnia Dorm

Rook Hunt – He delights in seeing your reactions. You, of course, never grew up with any of their classic stories or theater shows. You get to experience all of them for the first time! That’s basically how you became Rook’s theater buddy, going with his to small local shows to bigger productions with him and Vil.

Tonight was no different, the two of you going to a show in the park and talking about it with a walk around. It's not the first time he has jumped into playing out his favorite parts, complete with belting into song and changing characters left and right.

When your laughter hick ups into something different, he twists around, seeing the diamonds drop from your eyes. As you explain, he feels so many things. Protective. Joyous. Angry. Overwhelmed?

He collects you in his arms, kissing your cheeks and forehead.

“Thank you for allowing me to feel something so beautiful,” he whispers. “And thank you, for allowing me into your heart. I promise to not abuse it.”

Vil Schoenheit – Surrounded by stone cold walls, the warmth of the fire underneath the cauldron, and a handful of experimental ingredients for his next batch. This is where Vil gets to thrive, calling out different measurements for you to write done, explaining purpose and mixtures, this is where he gets to dive into his intellect and science.

As he cleans up from the last batch, his question about packaging goes unanswered. He looks at you to see you trying to quietly staunch the tears.

The explanation only seems to make them flow faster, and he removes his gloves before wiping them away.

“How are you going to handle the rest of our lives together if something so domestic can shake you?”

He huffs with a smile, kissing your forehead and cheeks. It’s break time, clearly, with some tea for you both.

Epel Felheimer – Spelldrive isn’t normally played on the ground, but he enjoys that he gets to play with you at least, and it still works on his reflexes!

When you slide into his goal, he tackles you to the ground, the laughter echoing off the tombstones as you tussle on the ground with him.

When he pins you to the ground and sees the tears in your eyes, he thinks he hurt you something awful. Once you explain though, his smile goes soft before he shakes himself, that boyish charm turning into a cocky grin.

“Of course I do!” He declares, helping you up before yanking you into a hug before he can second guess himself. "One day though, you’ll see, it’s 10 times better out there, and I want to be the one to show it all to you!”

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst #Vil Schoenheit #Rook Hunt #epel felmier #twst Vil #twst Rook #twst Epel #twst Yuu #twst x reader #twst x Yuu

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kimmi-never-dies · 2 days ago

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Yandere!Hyun-Ju x fem!reader head canons

(A/N): I know the poll is still up and is likely gonna change when I'm in the process of finishing this up but I had time now and this prompt was in the lead so I just decided this is what I'm writing.

TW: yandere, obsessive behavior, mentions of but never graphic violence, mentions of stalking and implied kidnapping, drugging.

Her behavior:

Again, she’s definitely a hopeless romantic, Hyun-Ju seems like the type to crave intimacy, affection, and all the other cheesy romance things, but never knows how to ask for it.

And adding that, along with the fact that society practically turned its back on her the second she wanted to openly be the woman she was on the inside, kinda turned her into an obsessive, clingy person.

She doesn’t mean to be this way, she’s just scared of being abandoned again.

Hyun-Ju never thought she’d end up becoming so infatuated with someone, but when you entered her life, everything changed.

You were so different from everyone else, you accepted her, you were so understanding and gentle…

She needed you more than life itself…you were a lifeline for her.

I kinda see Hyun-Ju being two sub-types of yandere, delusional and dependent.

She’d definitely disguise most of her delusions as jokes, for example:

“What do you mean you’re going on a date? But you’re my wife! You can’t be unfaithful!”

But her dependency is very clear, but dependency can be easily explained by abandonment issues, so you’d never guess it was really because she was practically addicted to you.

But she really can’t help it! After the games…after all the people she’d lost…she needed to keep you safe, she needed you to stay.

Dealing with rivals:

Definitely a jealous type, literally wants to scream, cry, and physically rip you away from anyone who’s not her.

Hyun-Ju doesn’t wanna share your attention, you should only focus on her!

HYUN-JU WAS A SARGENT IN THE SPECIAL FORCES

She is SCARY.

If she did happen to somehow gain a romantic rival she’d first stalk them online until she’s figured out everything about them.

She’s gotten a lot of people cut off from your life by digging up old tweets…

But if that doesn’t work, she isn’t above getting her hands dirty…

I don’t think Hyun-Ju could actually bring herself to just straight up murder someone, I know she went crazy on those guards but ACTUAL murder I don’t think so.

But she’s definitely not afraid to follow someone home and beat the ever-loving shit out of them as a warning.

Confessing to her darling:

There’s two ways this could go, and it really depends on you: Tonight was *finally* the night, Hyun-Ju was gonna tell (Y/n) how she felt about her! Everything was prepped and ready, she decorated her apartment with fairy lights, lit a couple of (Y/n)’s favorite scented candles, and made dinner. Hyun-Ju was now just getting dressed and awaiting her sweet-girls arrival.

She was dressed up in a beautiful forest-green dress with a gold necklace with an (your first initial) shaped pendent, which she got a while ago, playing it off as “there were no H’s and it made me think of you.” Her makeup was also simple, her signature brown winged liner, some mascara, and a bit of red tinted-gloss

The silence of Hyun-Ju’s apartment was suddenly interrupted by a knocking at the door.

‘She’s here!’ Hyun-Ju thought to herself excitedly as she rushed to open the door.

She could’ve fallen to her knee and proposed right then and there…

(Y/n) was stunning…her dress/suit hugging her body in all the right ways, and her hair was done perfectly, just like always…

-a few hours later-

After a while of eating dinner and watching some stupid comedy movie, Hyun-Ju finally worked up her courage and turned to face (Y/n). Her hands were shaking as she paused the tv, looking into her (e/c) eyes with nothing but love and a small twinge go something…darker…

“Sweet girl…I know we’ve been good friends for such a long time but…over these past few years I’ve wanted something more, I love you, and I wanna be your wife one day…so with that being said, please…will you be my girlfriend…?”

You sat shocked for a few minutes before responding to her, you couldn’t help but notice the desperate yet hopeful look on her face.

“Oh Hyun-Ju…”

Yes

"I'd love to..."

did she hear that right?

yes??

she would grin from ear to ear, pull you close as gently as she could, and kiss you.

this first kiss and every kiss after that would be full of love, passion, and happiness, masking the obsessive and violent feelings that got here to this moment, here with you...

And she was never letting you go...

"I'm sorry...I don't feel the same...but I'd love to still be your friend."

friend?

FRIEND??

all of this, following you everywhere, taking all those pictures of you, fighting off rivals left and right, only for you to wanna be FRIENDS!?

Hyun-Ju was NOT accepting this, but luckily she already had a backup plan.

struggling didn't help much when she lunged at you, pinning you to the ground effortlessly as she pulled something out of her dress pocket.

and once you felt that prick in your neck, and the sedative hit, you didn't struggle at all.

don't be scared sweet girl, she won't hurt you.

she'll make sure no one can hurt you...or even find you again...

#squid game #cho hyunju #hyun ju x reader #yandere x reader #yandere

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utilitycaster · 3 days ago

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(I’m sure you’re getting a lot of asks right now, so if this isn’t a fun avenue for you, feel free to pass on over.)

So, the Vax of it all.

As a person who really loved Vax’s portrayal and his arc, the end of C1 was powerful and poignant. Dalen’s Closet was the perfect cherry on top of a truly bittersweet ending - a really touching way to give the characters some final interactions and show that he didn’t feel trapped or tortured by his duties as a champion. It gave a lovely sense of closure - with the button put on it that Scanlan couldn’t even cast the spell again, so it really reinforced the idea that magic had natural rules and consequences to big asks.

And then C3.

Obviously Vax was always going to factor into this campaign (one of the cast described this as their Avengers Assemble plot, after all), but with the way Matt had him appear and knowing how the rest of the cast was going to react to it, it really seemed like this ending was inevitable.

Considering that she was the bait in the first place, Keyleth was always going to realize where Vax was, always going to draw in the de Rolos to save him, and being familiar with Matt’s DM style (as well as any of us can be) I have a hard time believing he was going to do all that and then steer them towards an ending that would just have left Vax back as a champion - or even dead. Possible, but seemed pretty unlikely. (forgive my ignorance, I’m sure this is exactly what people were saying about Molly’s resurrection too, I wasn’t in the fandom then, but that at least was a DICE roll that concluded on camera, no way around that)

But now I’m just… so confused by so many choices. When did Matt decide this? Did Liam agree? If this was going to be the ending, why did he have the Raven Queen explicitly say ’you have one more night on Exand-- JK, hang out as long as you like, go look up that girlfriend of yours!” Was it JUST so the Vaxleth reunion would be the last scene of the campaign? W h y a n y o f t h i s ? But-- none of those are things we can really know the answers to, of course.

So my REAL question is, how would you have liked to have seen Vax brought into this story? A defender of the Raven Queen, going as far as to oppose Bell’s Hells (gods, can you imagine what the fandom would have done)? Would you have liked him to appear at all?

Btw, I’ve loved following your blog through this campaign - these last handful of episodes, I’ve been checking in daily like it’s my morning paper. Even on the rare occasion I do find my opinion differs, I find your analysis so thorough, so thoughtful and always entertaining. Excited (and maybe a little wary…) to see what we’ll get in C4! I, uh... sorry for the ask-wall-of-text.

So I will admit, I thought, until early in the finale when it became clear this was just the equivalent of the flavorless pure sugar drink they give pregnant people to test glucose tolerance, that Vax would be freed from his duties and laid to rest. The part with champions serving as protectors of the gods' realms honestly hadn't occurred to me but you could have done it with Morrighan (still physically alive) taking on the mantle and Vax passing on to the afterlife. Because the thing was, Vax was dead, the Raven Queen said "you can be alive temporarily as a revenant," and then once his mission was over, he died. He was literally already dead. I also maintain it was not an inevitability from the Orb situation; obviously I have no fucking idea what Matt had in mind, clearly, but in a case where Predathos remains sealed, then the Vax situation remains as it was; and in a case where Predathos is freed and devours the gods I think he dies more horribly vs. a gentle and kind passing (or perhaps some hail Mary scenario where after Predathos has glutted itself and left, he can perform the rites of ascension himself).

I guess the short answer is I really don't think this was inevitable because I think the vast majority of the finale and no small part of the campaign was again just. things happening because they needed to happen to get to the ending where Bells Hells were ostensibly happy (it's not very fulfilling to have everything given to you without it meaning anything), but I can think of a number of ways to run any final scenario re: Predathos and the Raven Queen where Vax doesn't come back. That was a very specific choice, and it was, as many of us have pointed, an immensely stupid one that was utterly unnecessary.

#cr spoilers #answered

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giantmonsterpolls · 2 days ago

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Some paintings of kaiju that I’ve done since falling head-over-heels for the genre! Some of them have been posted to Tumblr before, but not most of them.

The first one here is a painting of Titanus Tiamat’s comic design I did for a friend’s birthday back in September 2022! One of the first pieces of kaiju fanart I ever did.

A Rodan from October or November of the same year, drawn from vague memory and without reference.

My MonsterVerse OC, Titanus Renanin, while under Ghidorah’s control during the Mass Awakening. April 2023.

A chalk painting of MonsterVerse Rodan. Also April 2023.

The graphic novel version of Nimona’s kaiju form, done to commemorate the movie’s release. I’ve shared this one here on Tumblr before. June 2023.

Redraw of the GxK “handprint” poster with my fangoji, Ascended!Goji. November 2023.

A scene of the Frost-Vark from Monarch: Legacy of Monsters. I looked at a star chart to get the constellations right. December 2023/January 2024.

My “Ten Years of the MonsterVerse” piece which has already been shared here, inspired by cave paintings, plus the concept/technique-testing art for it which I dubbed “Feeding Frenzy”. May and March 2024, respectively.

A redraw of the “moonrise” scene from Gamera 3: Awakening of Iris, featuring my redesign of her for Godzilla: Ascension. The sketch for this one sat in my files for a year or so, before I finally got around to finishing it in under a day in June 2024.

A skyscape featuring Jean Jacket from Nope. While I haven’t seen the movie, I’ve heard nothing but good things about it and her. Titled this one “The Hills Have Eyes”. July 2024.

A “still frame” from my Ultra Series project, Ultrawyrm Mira. I believe I was inspired by that ad for an Ultraman card game? October 2024.

A painting of Otachi to celebrate Double Event Day, also previously shared here. January 2025.

And lastly, my fan-version of Ghidorah (right) and a friend’s (left) mutually enjoying some ionospheric lightning. This is my first painting explicitly tied to the community roleplay that my friendgroup in the community has (while this scene specifically isn’t in it, these two Ghidorahs spend a lot of time together and have… something approaching a friendly relationship.) February 2025.

#my art #kaiju fanart #digital painting #godzilla #ghidorah #jean jacket nope #otachi pacific rim #iris gamera #ultrawyrm mira #ultra series #monsterverse #nimona #rodan #titanus tiamat #titanus renanin #fangoji #fankaiju #long post #no alt text

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voidspiraling · 3 days ago

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I gotta get this done before Valentine’s Day

Omg omg guys r u ready for pain an heartbreak this Valentines!!!?!?! I’m not. I just saw the teaser and I’m freaking out!!!!!!!!

I’ll keep this short cuz we’re gonna get the full video anyways I just wanted to point out a few things.

The first scene is MiziSua!!! They’re in a class it seems talking to each other and looking cute. It seems to show a mundane everyday scene from the garden. The thing that stood out to me is the shadow cast against Sua. It’s overall a bright scene but the shadow cast on Sua hints at the darker aspects of Alien Stage. It could also show how Sua is in a dark place, and how she sees Mizi as her sole light. You can tell because of how bright Mizi’s hair is at the right part of the image. Sua is turned facing the right direction and away from the shadow. Like Mizi is the light at the end of the tunnel. Tunnel vision on a single person isn’t healthy but you can see from this picture that this where MiziSua is the happiest.

The second scene we are shown after this first image is the twins!! This shot is more closer in fact you can barely see the background. This to me shows an intimate scene between family where you just focus on your time together. They’re both shadowed by the bright light behind them showing how ephemeral this moment is. It reminds me of a flashback in a movie to show innocence and purity of a character. But overall generally cute and wholesome.

The next scene tho….

Oh man this scene is so eerie. So what my eye was drawn to was the corner of the room. Now whenever we see images of the garden it seems more open and almost warm. We usually see them from the perspective of the other characters so the garden looks big and comforting even though we know that everything is fake. The trees are fake, the fish are fake, the fake flowers have cameras in them. So we know the garden isn’t a safe place. But this shot of baby Luka shows that the garden really is just another cage made to look pretty. It felt like my safe space transformed into a horror scene XD.

Another thing that’s scary is baby Luka himself. Now normally Luka looks angelic and elegant. He looks so beautiful and soft in all the other videos. But even though he’s a baby here I can’t find him cute. The sweaty and dirty face paired with his purple fingertips looks creepy. But what really scared me were his eyes. This is the most emotion I’ve seen on him his wide pale eyes and his outstretched hands and his flushed face, it feels like he’s about to do something with dire consequences. Maybe this is before he gets into that accident with hyunwoo? Whatever it is it’s so unsettling.

Alternatively it could be that what he’s reaching for is shown in the next and final scene I wanna talk about.

IvanTill my babies!!!!!!! We only see the back of their head tho 💔 but it’s ok I can still feel the cuteness coming from them! Look at how small Till is he has to stand on his tip toes to draw ;-; I love him so much. And man the really upped the colors in this teaser his hair almost looks cyan :0 it feels almost fairytale like.

Anyways let’s talk abt what this could potentially mean. So here we see Ivan looking intently at Till drawing on a white wall with a pencil. Till is reaching as high as he can to draw on the wall. And he moves from the left to right, this scene has the most movement and is also the only scene where we don’t see their faces. They’re also farther away from the viewer it feels like an outsider looking in.

Considering that Till is drawing on the wall I think this ties into my earlier post where I compared Tills wall mural to freedom. In this scene we don’t see any part of the fake garden instead we see art of a real garden, a garden created from Till’s imagination.

I think this is what Luka wanted to reach for, freedom and creativity. IvanTill have always been distinct in this way as they show how escape is possible and how humanity thrives even when outside forces tries to removes it from you. Till shows this be always rebelling and always staying true to himself in his art and music. Meanwhile Ivan is always so human in the way he loves Till. Even though he knows how to thrive in the system he still risks his safety to comfort Till when he’s passed out. He throws the match to save the one he loves even though he knows it’s futile. They’re both so tragic and human it makes me cry every time I see them together sigssisbjssbjabxhxgcgdjsis.

Last thing I wanted to mention was that there’s a lot of motion from left to right in the teaser. I think this conveys moving forward into a hopefully brighter future. Maybe there will be a happy ending after all?

#alien stage #alnst till #alnst #alnst ivan #ivantill #alnst mizi #alnst sua #alsnt luka #alnst hyuna #mizisua #hyunluka

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blazinginsquids · 14 hours ago

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“I’ll make her be the prince for the rest of her life”

I was rewatching The Adolescence of Utena, a movie I watch so often I’ve practically memorized it. What I love about the movie the most is that every time I watch it, I notice something new. This time was no different.

In the scene where Shiori is explaining the river story, she explains how it was the prince, Juri’s, fault that Touga died, since he wanted to save her. She then says that she forces Juri to be the prince for the rest of her life, as a way to make her repent for what she had done (ie, kill Touga)

When Shiori says this, we see a painting of Anthy in her rose bride dress. This is the first time I’ve seen a parallel drawn between Juri and Anthy as opposed to Juri and Utena, or Shiori and Anthy. Because of it, I had an epiphany, and forgive me if this is an obvious observation.

The Prince, like the rose bride, or more precisely like the witch, is forced to take on a role to punish them.

I don’t think the Prince is a role that appears to be a form of punishment, which is seems to be more of a complement than a foil to the rose bride/the witch, a role that exists solely to oppress and overpower the other.

But Juri isn’t our main example of a Prince throughout the series, that would go to both Dios (Not Akio), and Touga.

Anthy kept Dios away from the world to protect him, something she was punished for because it stopped him from saving all the girls in the world, who needed a Prince to protect them.

Touga and his role in the river story in this iteration is a parallel to Dios, and more specifically a what if. What if he hadn’t been protected? What if he continued to save all the girls in the world? We have our answer. Eventually, he would die saving a girl.

A prince is someone expected to save the world until it kills them. This is why Shiori forcing Juri to be her prince is a punishment, and why Juri’s obsession with Shiori is “dangerous”. Because one day, if nothing saves her, she will die in her efforts to save her.

I think this observation is important because it shows us that everyone is a victim of some kind, a victim to the system, a victim to the world around them, a victim to their circumstances.

I once read a quote, its origin I can’t remember. This isn’t a direct quote, but more so what I gathered from it, “To be truly free is to understand the ways in which you are caged. When you’re under the impression you are free, you will be oblivious to the ways in which you cannot act, and therefore when you need to, you think you will have more options than you do. By understanding the ways in which you’re oppressed, and the ways in which you cannot act, you will understand how to work around it, and therefore be more free.”

Again, not a direct quote at all, but what I understood through it. I think this is something that Revolutionary Girl Utena explains as well. It’s not until the characters realize how they are part of the system, and the harm they do to others, that they can begin to understand how to escape that system, and stop acting through it. But again, this is something they can only understand once they acknowledge they are trapped.

This is something already clear enough through Utena through its other methods of storytelling and usage of symbolism, but I thought it was interesting how it also appeared here! I haven’t noticed anyone else point it out, hence why I decided to, so forgive me if this was obvious.

#revolutionary girl utena analysis #revolutionary girl utena #adolescence of utena #juri arisugawa #shiori takatsuki #utena tenjou #anthy himemiya #touga kiryuu #rgu analysis #akio ohtori

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aambearr · 19 hours ago

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Mr. Forgetful ❦

Summary- Soldier Boy isn’t one for valentines. SoldierBoyxfem!reader

Warnings- none <3

Notes- first time writing something so please be mindful 🙈

Dividers @strangergraphics @chaeneuu @roseraris

You’d been off with him all day, quiet and seemingly mulling something over in your brain. At first he had brushed it off, in true Ben fashion, as you ‘being a hormonal woman’. His words not yours. Usually he’d leave it at that not wanting to be on the receiving end of your ‘nagging’, however, Ben couldn’t cease the idea that someone more was brewing.

As he sat, legs spread on the couch, a joint precariously resting between his fingers, he seemed to study you intently for any kind of giveaway.

“Alright, tell me what’s up. ‘Been ignoring it all day but I’ve missed that pretty smile of yours”Throwing in a bit of charm in hopes it would warm you up, but, to his avail a scoff is what he got.

“I’m fine, nothings wrong”

The response was curt and disinterested, instantly making his curious frown deepen into one of slight impatience and worry. Whilst he portrayed himself as some big Marlboro man, Ben did care. Ben wasn’t Soldier Boy as much as he liked to tell you that there was no matter of indifference.

“Don’t give me that crap, c’mon, what have I done?” His tone was a little agitated as he huffed out a plume of thin smoke, the stench of weed permeating the air. The only flaw he would ever admit to having was impatience.

This time however you dont say anything, instead your gaze is now deciding that, wow that rug you’d dragged in from the street is actually really nice.

And that evade of your eyes tells him that he’s clear-cut. He had done something. Though what was still a mystery.

A grunt left his lips at your choleric behaviour, but it worked in getting the man to start racking his brain for something.

Had he taken the trash out? Yes. Had he picked up his dirty laundry? Most likely answer would be no. Had he left dishes in the sink? Probably.

Though these were everyday Ben behaviours as he slowly adjusted to the fact that you, as a woman, weren’t in fact his personal maid. An eye roll was what you gave at most in those moments. So he files through other things any man would do to piss off their woman.

Birthday? No. Anniversary? Didn’t think so. Valentines Day? Oh fuck.

What did Ben think of Valentine’s Day? Well not much, in his opinion the so called ‘holiday’ was just a hallmark way to get couples spending more and more money, which to be fair to him, he wasn’t at all wrong. Then again, it was a tradition, and who wouldn’t want to be spoilt by their partner for a whole day?

You briefly raise your head to him when he states he’s going out and he’ll be back soon. You roll your eyes.

“Women” he grumbled, and when he turns away he too rolls his eyes. Then you roll your eyes again, at the fact, he most definitely was rolling his eyes now. It was one of those little things the two of you had, it was your thing. As much as you would irk each other, something as simple as eye rolling only made you both run deeper into that pit of yearning.

✫.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・✭

Bens eyes glimmer fondly when he returns home to see you splayed peacefully on the couch. And boy he was proud, he was convinced he’d outdone himself, no way you could still be sulking after this.

“Look, I got you something darlin’”

Curious to what he had, your head snaps round like a little owl. A smile embellishing your lips.

“What? Didn’t think I’d forget did you?” Voice a gentle scoff. Oh how rich of him to say.

“Well…. Maybe I did think you’d forgotten” your brow jerks up “did you buy these just now, on your ‘beer run’.”

“Fucking Christ you think nothing of m-“

“Ben… the tags still on them” a slight giggle escaping you. As much as you wanted to be mad at him, as much as you probably should, you couldn’t. He did care, just in his own, special way. When your friends would say he was bad for you, you’d shut them down *he was trying and that’s what mattered*.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever I still remember didn’t I? Or does that not matter nowadays?” to anyone else he might seem serious but you could tell his tone was one of banter.

With a grumble, he sat himself beside you after placing the floweret of roses down. Rough hands pulled out a black velvet box from his pocket. He wasn’t one for formalities, instead he opened it up for you. A dainty necklace lay resting on the soft pillow within. The delicate golden chain mirrored the light of the room. The colour was rich, like the ichor that pumped through the gods. It was simple, yet opulent, aristocratic even. It had that ‘old money’ feel as you so put it to him.

“Put it on for me?”

His tainted hands become so featherlight as he clasped it shut around your neck.

“What so I don’t even get a thanks these days? Just a demand? Christ on a cross, back in-“

You silenced him from a rant with a caress of your lips against his.

“Happy Valentine’s Day Mr. Forgetful, I love you”

A look of gratification etched into your face. And you swear you can see the vines of his grassy eyes lustre at your affection.

“Happy Valentines sweetheart”

Feel free to let me know that this was absolute ass but if you like it please feel free to interact <33

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atsadi-shenanigans · 1 day ago

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FSBE 13 - Gods Ain't Shit

You learn some things.

On AO3.

“Oh my gods!” Karlach all but squeals. “The Jaheira! Like, the actual Jaheira!”

Good news: y’all found the harper hideout.

Bad news: they almost shot you’uns.

Thank fuck for Wyll and his buckets of charm. He’d been out front as an older lady came out to meet y’all. So he’d been the first up when the old lady pulled a Poison Ivy and lifted vines outta the ground to grab y’all. He was able to stall her long enough for one of the druid grove tiefling kids to run out and recognize y’all.

“Who’s Jaheira?” you say as Astarion fusses and pinches bits of vine out of his armor.

“You never heard of Jaheira?” Karlach says. Girl ain’t modulating her voice down at all. Couple of people look over. Then she blinks. “Right. You’re…she’s a hero. A real, proper one. Fought down a Bhaalspawn back in the day…oh. You don’t know about those either. Bhaal is the god of murder, you get me? And he apparently likes sprouting out kids—don’t ask, I don’t want to think about it. But they’re wicked dangerous. Whole ‘god of murder’ as your dad, yeah?”

You blink. “Y’all got a god of murder?”

Hope the what the fuck ain’t showing.

“You don’t?” Karlach says.

So there’s a whole readjustment of everything you ever known. A sharp ache chisels in behind your right eye.

“We don’t got gods,” you say. “Not real ones, anyway.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” Shadowheart says.

Gale already made a beeline over to a woman standing in front of what looks like a ramshackle merchant stall at a ren faire. Wyll is already heading towards the inn, pausing to talk to a group of harpers gathered around a bone-dry fountain.

Lae’zel…she’s just standing there looking bored.

Shit.

You put on your best polite-interest (and not at all judging) face. “Yeah?”

“You’ve said you have no gods several times,” Shadowheart says. Behind her, Karlach makes a yikes face and tiptoes her way outta the conversation. Goddamnit. At least Astarion lingers. “Yet the concept isn’t foreign to you. How is that?”

She’s a cleric. Which means she’s some sort of, what you done put together, a battle nun for her god. Who sounds like a dick. And this one heals y’all.

You really don’t wanna get into it. Astarion knows about your background, and you told Wyll enough he might be suspecting some stuff.

“Some people,” you start. Pause to try to find safe footing. “Some people where I come from do.”

“And you think them, what. False? Liars?”

Fuckshit. She’s way too damn perceptive.

“Ain’t nobody ever seen one. Different civilizations had different pantheons, hundreds of them, and ain’t no physical evidence of any of it being real.”

Shadowheart arches an eyebrow. “So you think your entire people wrong?”

The anger rises hot and fierce like a steam explosion. Pressure spikes up the sides of your neck. You hold your breath a second to keep from saying nothing. Gotta keep calm. Breathe out. Snapping at her ain’t gonna solve shit. Biting somebody’s head off don’t change their mind and usually makes them dig in deeper, like a starving tick.

You ain’t her mama. And though her goddess sounds like she sucks, you ain’t gonna change her mind. She’s a grown ass woman who can make grown ass choices with her grown ass life.

You suck in another deep breath. “I cannot speak for nobody but myself. I don’t know much about y’all’s world; we don’t got magic in mine. But y’all very clearly do. So hell, I might have everything ass backwards. I’m just trying to figure everything out.”

Shadowheart presses her lips thin. Nods once. Don’t seem satisfied, but she don’t seem all huffy, neither. Thus go all shitty compromises.

(Part of you chafes at that, as it always does. You ain’t never been sure if that’s a reflex against your upbringing, or that upbringing manifesting itself into a new variety of self-righteousness. You wonder if you’ll ever know.)

“Do you think they have bathing facilities?” Astarion says. “I, for one, am tired of this filth.”

You should kiss him. But Shadowheart rolls her eyes and disengages, and you don’t want her staring you down any more than she already is.

Gale still talks to the trader or merchant or whoever. Pulls something outta his bag while Karlach pokes around a couple of shields propped against the booth. Lae’zel follows after Shadowheart as the two start across the courtyard. You assume she’s done some Jason Bourne surveying in her head. And Wyll…

Wyll stands at the door of the inn, arm lifted, waving y’all over.

“Oh, what now,” Astarion says.

“Maybe we got rooms?” you say.

“Ugh, I hope so. But with so many vagabonds—”

Who even says that?

“—traipsing about, I doubt they have any room to spare. Still. An honest bed would do wonders.”

He ain’t wrong.

The other people—harpers, you assume—all carry weapons and that light armor. Not metal; maybe leather. Must be more used to ambush attacks than full on assaults. Those kinda tactics tend to work pretty good against armored or heavy ass baggage trains. Ask the French what they thought about the English-allied Cherokee during that war. Before the English fucked over the Cherokees, as they did everybody, eventually.

These guys look fucking tired. Scared. It’s in the way their gazes don’t settle. One man shakes his hand, but when he grips the handle of his spear, fine tremors shiver up and down his fingers.

There’s some kinda low building to the right. A stable, you think. You catch the sound of metal clanging from that way. But then y’all are at the inn doors and ducking into what should be light and warmth. A plush rug and maybe a fish tank. Marble counter tops and a receptionist with a Karen haircut and a shiny name tag.

Instead, wood creaks underfoot and you look deeper into the building to what’s clearly a bar. Several people slump over it. One’s red, another blue. More tieflings.

“Hey, you! You look an enterprising sort!”

A small voice from down low. Tucked up into the corner is a red tiefling kid. He’s scrawny as hell, clothes patched and frayed, and…weirdly familiar.

“Oh no, not this little deviant,” says the biggest deviant you know. To the kid, Astarion says, “You’re lucky we’re not in any civilized place. They tend to punish thieves.”

Right. Kid from the grove. The one hawking stuff while his friend picked your pocket.

You still give Astarion a look. “How’d you get all them pillows outside your tent?”

“Through charm and wit.”

“Aw, it’s you,” the kid whines. “Don’t suppose you got more coin than pocket lint this time?”

“Nope,” you say.

The kid runs a clawed hand through his hair. Mutters something in a raspy language.

“Excuse me?” Astarion says.

The kid blinks, but don’t look any kind of mollified. Just tired. “Move along. If you can’t pay, you’re taking up room for someone who can. Where’s the funny man with the purple robe?”

Gale, who probably just dumped all y’all’s group money on a pile of sausages.

“You can speak his language?” you say to Astarion, still glaring like a kicked cat.

“That wasn’t his language, unless our tiny friend here is very good at shape changing. Though I am curious as to how he might have learned the language of the Abyss.”

“Oh.” The kid smirks. “You get called that enough to recognize it, then?”

Okay, fuck no.

You step between the two. That’s a nice thing about your size. If you wanna make yourself a problem, you are hard as fuck to ignore.

“Y’all made it this far, huh?” you say. And win, when the kid looks away from Astarion to you.

But his face goes eerily blank for a second before he smiles. Or tries to.

And you seen that before. The younger kids on the farmstead looked like that sometimes after a worship session. After a holy cleansing. Because being loud brought the Aunts, and crying brought the other kids, and it was hard sometimes to tell which was worse.

“Some of us,” the kids says. Give a one-shouldered shrug. Acting all cool and unbothered.

Being very, very bothered.

“What happened?” you say. You almost kneel down to his (her?) level, but you’ve cracked their armor now, and calling attention to it like that, reminding them how small they are is just gonna crack that deeper.

“What always happens,” the kid says. “We got attacked. Lost some people. The lucky ones made it here.”

The inn is awfully empty. Some of them tieflings looked ready to fight. Might just be outside with the harpers. Or up in rooms somewhere. But this place—trapped beneath a glowing, silver dome—ain’t that big.

“So are you gonna buy something or not?” the kid says. “Cause my crew is still looking to set up a business once we reach the city, and we need to start a principal.”

It takes a second for that one to translate. Principal, as in…chief? Top? School?

Astarion leans in. “He means an investment fund.”

Right. Sure thing, dirt potion.

“What’cha selling?” you say.

And that pipsqueak gives you the most incredulous once-over you ever did see. “You said you didn’t have any money.”

“I don’t.” You turn. Find Astarion glaring over your shoulder. Give him your most wide-eyed smile. “But he does.”

“Don’t you dare,” he says.

“You heard him. It’s an investment. Wouldn’t hurt to get on the ground floor of a promising new venture, huh?”

The worm in your head shudders. Shivers. Reaches out so you can press into him the ice-cold iron of “not abandoning a traumatized child.”

His worm shies away. His frown twists into a narrow-eyed scowl. And then he lifts up a coin—copper. You look at it. Look at him. Hold that gaze.

He sighs. “Suit yourself. But I expect repayment in full, darling.”

And pulls a gold coin out of thin air to toss at you.

You manage to catch it. Just. Sigh yourself as he pivots and heads over towards Wyll, standing further in.

You thought you was getting into him a little. He’s eased up around you, just a bit. Hasn’t threatened to eat either Scratch or Sweetums in a while. But asking him to show the tiniest sliver of empathy towards anyone but you—and even that’s pushing it—and it’s like trying to get a cat to swallow a pill. A cat who don’t like you all that much.

You press your lips tight as you watch him go. Finally turn back to the kid. Hold up the coin. “Let’s see your wares, huh?”

#fsbe #these two shitheads #bg3 #astarion #astarion x tav #tavstarion

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whalesongsblog · 2 days ago

Note

I beg you

Use all your whale knowledge and make a nerdy little marine biologist au with omi and Mira please I beg

I want all the whale facts, cute fluffy sweetness

okay. omg, first of all- this was the sweetest, loveliest thing to ask. I’m so genuinely flattered like you have no idea.

that being said- did I go overboard (ha) on this one? Maybe. but marine science is my greatest passion in life and I got carried away 😭✋🏾

I hope you like it!!!!

Megaptera novaeangliae

“We should have low swell for the rest of the day. Wind speed isn’t supposed to kick up over 12 knots, and hopefully the conditions can be classified at level 5.” Sweeping her wild mess of ink-black hair into a ponytail, Dr. Miradevi Lakshmi tucked a baseball cap sporting the letters ‘NOAA’ over her unruly locks. “Sound good?”

“Sure.” Her intern, Isaac, was a bright eyed fellow whose work lived up to the usual starry credentials. Bless his heart, the boy got things done.

He nodded and scribbled quick notes into a battered notebook, brows furrowed slightly. “The hydrophones are on deck- yes, they are covered with towels. We have the GPS in the equipment cooler, and the first data sheet is ready to go.”

A gentle, cool breeze swept through the port, the pale blue waters of the Pacific coast lapping against the docked research vessel. The RV Davidson was a beautiful ship, just her speed. Not large enough to get lost on, but not small enough that one breaching whale would send the crew overboard- which had happened once, surprisingly.

“And-“ the intern’s lips curled into a grin. He opened up the bulky clipboard storage box, readjusting the mess of papers and pencils in it with a knowing air. “You have a data transcriber with you .”

“Please tell me they’re not saddling me with one of those university kids again.” Mira said, wary. “Much love to them, but their eardrums are atrocious. I’ve had to go back and re-write so much data.” She leaned closer, her voice lowering conspiratorially. “One of them heard a B- call clear as day and logged it as as ship noise.”

“It’s because we listen to music so loud, it blows our eardrums out of whack.” Isaac said sagely. “But you don’t have to worry about that. You’re getting a pretty good guy from what I know.” He gestured, and Miradevi turned around.

The telltale rattle of a roller against wood instantly gave the ‘pretty good guy’ away.

Shit.

Her gaze caught the figure strolling towards her, White Cane in hand. Mira took a shaky inhale, willing down the tidal wave of emotion the swept through her.

Say something. Don’t stand there and gape like a fish. Say something-  “Well, look who it is.”

… Idiot.

“I’m quite unable to do that, darling.” Dr. Ominis Gaunt stood before her, and the air between them simmered.

“Hello, Mira.”

Miradevi stiffened at hearing her name on his lips, his lilting voice washing up a slew of memories that were best kept locked away in a tiny little box in her head.

“Ominis.” She returned, reaching out for a handshake. She could be cordial. She could be professional. “It’s wonderful to have you with us again.”

Ominis gave her a slow smile as his hand dwarfed hers, the familiarity of the gesture almost crumbling her resolve. To make matter worse, his touch wandered to her shoulder, down her hip. The soft fabric of her t- shirt snagged under his touch, a trail of sparks left in the wake of his roaming fingertips.

“Taking advantage of California’s sunny weather?”

Mira pulled away, needing quite a lot of effort to do so. “I’m not the only one. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wearing cargo before.”

“A necessary evil.” Ominis flashed her a grin, adjusting the black sunglasses that perched on his nose. “But I daresay I’m doing it justice.”

Mira tried not to let her gaze catch on the open top buttons of his cotton shirt, or the way the sunlight illuminated every handsome angle of his face.

Despite being in the United States for a decent amount of time now, Ominis had not lost an ounce of his refined British accent- another thing she tried to push away from her mind.

“Come on.” Mira managed. “We’re leaving port soon, and I can’t leave my precious equipment in my intern’s grubby little paws.”

“Hey!”   “I’m joking, Isaac. You’re doing great.” Miradevi offered him a quick smile. Her arm almost raised to loop with Ominis’ as he readjusted the grip on his cane. Almost.

She lowered it the second she realized what she was doing, and awkwardly gestured for him to follow her onto the vessel. It seemed the universe was out to get her in one way or the other- perhaps this was payment for the weather conditions being miraculously perfect.

“I read your paper, Dr. Lakshmi.” Ominis’ voice lowered to a murmur. Seagulls cried overhead and the clamor of fishermen, researchers, and tourists bustling around the ports muted to a dull echo. “On climate change influencing poleward shifts in the migration patterns of Grey whales. It was.. fascinating.”

Her response was less than enthused.

“…Yeah.” Her words were quiet, heavy with bitter dissapointment. “It was- it was fun to write.”

Ominis paused just short of the gangplank, gripping Mira’s upper arm. “Don’t do that.” His voice was quiet, but firm. “Not this again. Look-“ Ominis tilted his head slightly. “Is anyone around?”

Mira darted her gaze over the deck, before shaking her head.  “No. But-“

Ominis cut her off, his voice low.

“You are making an impact, Mira. I promise. No legislative action can be taken without data, and without the work we do, policy has no legs to stand on. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, but it doesn’t seem to register with you how important the works we do is-“

Mira turned to face him, the wind sweeping pieces of her hair out of her ponytail. She fought the urge to snap back, old emotions returning full force at the familiar dance they were falling into. He seemed to know it too, his shoulder stiffening as she began to talk, his lips setting in a thin line.

“The Atlantic is exploding in boundary conflicts over who gets to plunder Tuna stocks before they move into some other countries’ geographic jurisdiction.” She turned away at the look on Ominis’ face, not wanting to see the irritation in his eyes. “Trade wars over who gets to decimate commercial- and highly endangered, mind you- fish populations first, and here I am writing another goddamn paper that’ll sit somewhere collecting digital dust.”

“Is that really what you think you’re doing?” Ominis snapped as he followed her into the ship, his cane feeling for obstacles in his path. “What we’re doing? That it’s useless to do the sort of research we do?”   “No, of course n- that’s not what I’m saying.” Mira pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m just saying that the things we do need to go further. We can’t stop at producing the data and hoping someone in Congress will do something about it. Gods know they barely read the memos we send them-“

“I know. Trust me, I know. But- gods, we’ve talked about this, Rara. You’d be giving up everything you’ve worked for to do what? Play kindergarden teacher for a bunch of legislators that need to be walked through the reasons that climate change is real? It’s a waste of your intelligence.”

“Thankfully you don’t really have any ground to give me life advice, Ominis.” Mira hissed, stung. “What I do with my career is my business. Not yours.”

Her mild surprise at his silence was short lived because the next thing she knew, he had pushed her into one of the cabins, slamming the door shut behind them. A table stood in the corner by the porthole, a chunky laptop sprouting wires firmly attached to it.  Ominis snatched the sunglasses off his face, folding them and tossing them onto the table where they fell with a clatter. Mira took a step back, faltering at the glint in his star- streaked eyes.  

“Not my business?” He growled, stalking forwards. “I think you’ll find that what you do is, in fact, very much my business.”

“Is that why you turned and left the second we got back on land after the Antarctica mission?” Miradevi asked drily. “Also, you’re not exactly giving off intimidating vibes right now, Mr. Cargo Pants.”

“You were the one telling me that you weren’t interested-“

“I- I was interested! I was very much interested, I didn’t know you needed more proof on top of all the things we did on that ship!”

“You- frustrating, aggravating woman.” Ominis snarled, striding forwards. “You were scared. You were scared and it threw me off, and I was stupid enough to believe that you preferred me out of your life. But I know that’s not true anymore.”

“Presumtuous of you. And things have changed, clearly.”

Ominis gave a low, derisive laugh.

“Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me the truth, and say that you’re scared to go all in and explore what we have.” He took another step closer. His hand reached up and brushed her face, tentative.

Miradevi fought not to lean into his touch, her lashes fluttering slightly.

“Mira.”

He spoke her name like a caress. “Tell me.” Ominis repeated, voice softer. “And I’ll walk away.”

“I-“ Mira paused, head spinning wildly. The fact that she was here to do research was quickly taking a back bench, which was unnacceptable. “Ominis. Not now, alright? Please. Let’s just talk about this later.”

Dr. Ominis Gaunt listened as the woman he was madly in love with gathered her things and swept from the small cabin room, the iron door slamming behind her.

“Fuck.” He hissed, frustration lacing his voice as he dragged a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

xxxxxxxxxxxx

“The UAVs are picking up Humpback whales about a hundred meters at our three o’clock.” Captain Sharp of the RS Davidson pointed out the drone footage on their screens. The ship pitched slightly from a rolling wave and Mira gripped the edge of a desk, squinting at the computer.

“That’s a pod, with two potential Young of the Years. Can we head for their direction? We’ll kill the engines when we reach within a few yards, and I’ll deploy the hydrophones.”

“Are they travelling?” Ominis leaned back, arms crossed. His mind still hung on the heated words he’d exchanged with the other marine biologist- the way her breathing hitched as his hands brushed over her face.  “No, they’re- ah, that’s cute.” Mira’s voice softened, taking on that tone he knew so well. The soft, reverent lilt in her voice that one might use when speaking to a baby. “They’re spyhopping.”

There was a reason Mira had a bit of a reputation in the cetacean research community. Tagging whales was notoriously difficult, and collecting acoustic data was a hit or miss. Unless you had Dr. Lakshmi on board. Then, somehow, the gentle giants would behave beautifully, the spectograms thrumming with their songs echoing through the vast ocean. Mira brushed the praise off with a blush and a muttered excuse, but Ominis knew better.

She loved whales, beyond anything. They were her pride and joy, the sole focus of her career, her life. She’d told him that they were just returning the adoration she had for them.

Once, one of the many occasions they’d ended up tangled in bed together, he’d pulled her closer and joked that she’d go and live in the ocean with a pod of whales if she could.

“Endlessly swimming the vast oceans, singing to each other.” He’d murmured, tracing his fingertips along the curve of her hip, along her upper thigh. “You’d love that, I bet.”

Her eyes had unfocused slightly, gazing off as she thought about it.

“…Yeah.” She agreed, voice quiet. “I really would.”

“Isaac, get Dr. Gaunt a pair of headphones, please.”

“Oh, yeah- of course.” Isaac darted off, balancing against the swell of waves gently rocking the ship as he rustled in the equipment cooler for an extra pair. Jogging back, he handed it to Ominis and quickly plugged it into the hydrophone equipment.

“Thank you.” Ominis murmured, clicker at the ready. Another scientist sat on a low bench, pen poised over paper. Ominis pressed the headphones over his ears, waiting for the telltale crackle of the equipment turning on.

“There.” Mira brushed her hands off, pulling back from where she had leaned almost dangerouly close over the ships railing, deploying the mic underwater and dialing up the volume on the connected radio. Ominis’ headphones washed to life with a burst of static, then-

He closed his eyes, not that it made a difference. But his shoulders relaxed as the sound of the ocean filled his most trusted sense. Rapid clicks, snaps, and pops- the distant thrum of the engine, the occasional thump of some geological shift in the cracked volcanoes and rifts far beneath the surface. And-

there. The sound he’d been waiting for.

Ominis pressed the clicker once. “Upsweep.” He murmured, as his words were hastily recorded. “Repeating phrases- it’s a pod of mostly males. They’re not too far, and are possibly feeding.”

Miradevi snuck a glance through her binoculars, catching sight of the pod of whales. She whistled softly, impressed. “And they call me the whale whisperer. The title should go to you, Dr. Gaunt. You’re practically speaking their language.”

Ominis laughed softly, barely hearing her words over the sounds of the ocean through the headphones. “High praise, Dr. Lakshmi.” He murmured softly. He wanted to take her wrist and tug her down to sit beside him, to kiss every inch of her exposed neck and draw those soft gasps of his name from her lips-

He shook his head, blinking. His thumb snapped down on the clicker again. “Social call. Possibly a whup or a growl, I didn’t quite get it.”

“Did it have an upsweep?”

“I’ll have to go back and listen to it again.”

Focus.

Ominis shifted slightly, brows furrowed. Focus.

There was a sharp huff, accompanied by the splash of water- and a Humpback surfaced beside the ship, exhaling a puff of water vapor before slipping back down beneath the waves.

And Mira’s delighted laugh carried over his headphones, burrowing into his heart.

xxxxxxxxxx

Miradevi scrubbed her eyes slightly, her vision blurring. The jagged, colorful graphs of the spectogram were hurting her eyes at this point, the peaks melting together in a headache-inducing mess. She slipped off her glasses and winced at the sharp pain in her head, the uncomfortable throb behind her ears from wearing the headset for so long.

She groaned softly at the knock on her cabin door, massaing her temples.  “I’m sleeping. Unless you have a cup of hot chocolate and an Advil, then I’ll tolerate the disturbance.”

“Hot chocolate, yes. Advil, no.” Ominis nudged open her door, letting it shut behind him as he took a seat beside her. “Looking over the data?”

“Mm.” Miradevi gratefully accepted the warm cup, the scent of chocolate soothing her frayed neurons. “They were chatty today.” She took a sip, leaning back in her chair. The silence stretched for a moment, before she hazarded an attempt at breaking it.

“You’ve recorded everything beautifully, as usual. I don’t know how you manage to hear every little thing, but-“

“Makes up for not being able to see, I suppose.”

“Ha.”

The faint roar of the engine droned in the background, accompanied by the rush of water cleaving around the ship.

“I thought you wanted nothing to do with me after Antarctica.” Mira’s voice was quiet. “And even if I was wrong- Ominis, we’d never work. I’m thinking about restructuring my career, your job at Duke is going great- what if we mess it all up?”

Ominis was silent for a moment.  “Whale songs can travel 10,000 miles underwater.” He finally said, without preamble. His voice was quiet, his gaze fixed slightly to the left of the port window. “They used to be able to hear each other across entire oceans, before humans came in with our… noise. Our drilling, our military equipment testing, our SONAR. Now, they probably can’t hear across those vast distances anymore.”

“… Right.” Mira said, brows furrowed. “Anthropogenic noise pollution. It’s a pretty big conservation concern.”

“I feel like- I’m saying things but you’re not hearing me, Rara.” Ominis finally turned to face her. “And there’s no noise between us. There never has been. What are you not hearing, my love?”

A lump tightened her throat, a sudden burn of tears in her eyes as Ominis took her hands, leaning closer. “Listen to me. I- you are- everything, to me. Do what you want with your career, Mira. I’ll be the wind under your wings, I swear it. I just- I can’t do this.” He laughed, but it wavered slightly. “I’d be another 52 Hertz without you, love.”

“Oh, don’t you dare.” Mira whispered, her voice cracking. A mix of amusement and emotion caught her voice as she tried to speak. “You can’t get me in my feelings by using the 52 Hertz whale, that’s unfair.”

“Ah, well- what can I say? That’s what I am without you, my heart.” Ominis pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. “As I said before- say no, and I swear I’ll walk away. But I have to ask, Mira. Please.” He stood, gently tugging her to her feet.

“Let me ask.”

The terrifying part was that she knew her answer. Since the moment he’d kissed her in a flurry of joy at capturing precious data on elusive Fin whales in Antarctica. She knew.

“Take a chance.” Ominis murmured. “Let us try. I won’t let it crash and burn, I promise.”

His heart slammed against his ribs as her breathing wavered, her fingers reaching up to fist in the fabric of his shirt.  “Mira-“

“Ominis.”

She surged forwards, her lips capturing his. A breathless gasp escaped him, his hands falling to her hips, tugging her closer.   “That’s it.” He breathed, kissing her again, again, again- “My stunning, incredible girl-“

“Promise me it won’t go bad. Promise me we’ll be happy.” It felt like a childish question- a juvenile request in the face of something they couldn’t control. But Ominis nodded, his forehead resting against hers, barely able to hold himself back as he felt her soft huffs of air against his lips.

She tasted like chocolate.

“I promise we’ll be happy. And if- if anything ever happens-“ he kissed her again, relishing in her sharp intake of breath. “We’re scientists. Problem solving is our forte.”

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Mira gestured at the slideshow, the meticulously arranged graphs laid out before her. Ominis stood beside her at the head of the conference table, head tilted slightly as he heard her speak.

“Data that we have collected through our research cruises show that Blue whales are moving further towards busy shipping channels as the waters get warmer. They seek out colder, nutrient- rich water closer to the coasts and run the risk of entanglement with fishing gear, or getting struck by ships. We have an easy fix here-“

“Dr. Lakshmi, the global economy is run on maritime trade. We cannot compromise the income generated from the smooth running of our commercial vessles for- whales.”

Ominis bristled, lips curling slightly into a snarl. “Then it is a good thing we are not suggesting bringing shipping activity to a screeching halt, sir.”

Laying a gentle hand on his shoulder, Mira gave what she hoped was a winning smile to the man who’d spoken up. Getting a group of business executives and government officials to do anything was like herding cats. Bespoke-suit- wearing, very uncooperative cats. And it didn’t help that Ominis was rapidly losing his patience with them.

“What my colleague-“

“Fiance.”

Miradevi nudged him slightly, but couldn’t do anything about the grin on her face or the heat on her neck.

“Right. My fiance. What he means, what we are trying to say- is that there is a solution. We establish Traffic Separation Schemes, and keep ships away from known whale migration paths. It would also increase maritime safety, and reduce risk of ship collision.”

Silence, from the men in the room.

“How much will this cost us, Dr. Lakshmi?” Congressman- well, she hoped his name would not come up because she’d forgotten it already- spoke up, folding his arms across his chest. “Rerouting ships, establishing new routes? Do you have approval from the IMO?”

“Yes, sir. And from NOAA, as well as the National Marine Sanctuaries. A few shipping companies are also on board, based on preliminary surveys. We just need your cooperation.”

Please. Mira crossed her fingers behind her back. Please, please-

With a snap of the black folders before them and a rustle of fabric, the assembled members in the conference room stood. The congressman whose name she still did not remember nodded slightly wearily, and shook her hand. “Very well, Dr. Lakshmi. Dr. Gaunt.” He nodded at Ominis, who gave him a wry smile. “We look forward to your cooperation on this endeavour.”

“Wh- thank you. And- yes, we- we’ll be in touch.” Mira tried to calm the slam of her heart against her ribs, the ecstasy pounding through her veins.

Ominis shook the congressman’s hand, practically feeling Mira’s waves of hyperactive energy, her joy at getting something done. As soon as everyone had filed from the room, she laughed, breathless, and he lifted her into his arms as a grin curled his lips.

“Congratualations, my love.” He murmured, peppering kisses along her neck. “What shall we do to celebrate your first big win?”   “Maybe my future husband can take me to the aquarium?”

He heard the smile in her voice, and fell in love with her all over again.

 “He certainly can. And a long walk on the beach afterwards?”

“While looking for weirdly shaped seashells?”

Ominis laughed, almost dizzy from how much he adored her.

“Of course, my love. Of course.”

xxxxxxxx

The sun burned a brilliant orange as it dipped over the sky. Mira was a few paces ahead of Ominis as she examined the wet sand, digging for little creatures and shells to bring back to him.

As stars began to shine in the darkening sky, and the promise of returning to their shared flat together hung in the horizon, Mira allowed herself a moment to relish in the peace of what she feared she’d never have.

But Ominis was her peace. A song, reaching across an expanse of ocean to find her, and draw her back home.

Somewhere, the boundless ocean echoed with the haunting melodies of the largest animals in the world- songs of their love, joy, and fear resonant in their undecipherable music. A hidden testimony of a world so far beyond our own, wrapped in a language only the vast sea will ever know.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

AN: AAAAA I HOPE I DID YOUR ASK JUSTICE! Its my first writing ask omg

Anyways uhhh whales make me SO emotional I love them so much. If anyone wants to yap about the ocean or marine animals, feel free.

Marine biologist Ominis my BELOVED. I feel like he’d be an incredible acoustician

#ominis gaunt x oc #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x f!mc #marine biologist!Ominis gaunt #I bet that’s the first time THAT tag was used #desi oc #ominis gaunt x poc! mc

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quillquiver · 22 hours ago

Text

Just hopping in on air quality stuff, here!

I always thought that, when the Grey was released in the deeper fissures, it caused an epidemic in Zaun itself but largely stayed there; because of its geographic location, it makes sense to me that a dense gas would remain in the Underground. And I think that @sorceressofthesky is definitely onto something with the rise of industry in the fissures alerting Piltover to the Grey as an issue—and while I don’t doubt Cassandra’s young, wide-eyed enthusiasm to help, I also think that the likelihood that Piltover decided to assist to save people is probably a smaller piece of the overall puzzle of protecting their source of cheap labour. With the Grey, people get sick and die. By filtering the air of the worst of its toxins, you get a healthier workforce (no need to send your people down to do a dangerous job that will likely make them sick/kill them) and can keep industry out of sight and out of mind. This to me was an allegory for globalized western industry! The same way Canada outsources most of its mining to South America, Piltover outsources to Zaun.

From there, it isn’t a huge leap to assume that the filtering system is adequate but not good; you’d want something fast, cheap, and would really be looking to get rid of one problem—the Grey—without considering the long-term effects of living in a fissure and the other gases and pollutants that come with that landscape (especially when you’re dealing with the by-products of industry). I’m sure Cassandra meant well, but I’m also sure that no one consulted with Zaun; the entire project brought to mind the idea of the white saviour, with Piltover going in to clean the air they ruined in the first place and then patting themselves on the back for a job well done. I feel like, to actually create a system that properly filters Zaunish air, you need a ton of different filters of various thicknesses and materials—but to get rid of the worst stuff, all you need is to create a vent system to suck the toxic stuff away.

Which brings me to air quality. I’m in the Pacific Northwest of Canada and I’ve lived through like 6 really bad fire seasons now - and I mask, but every year it gets easier to breathe smoke in summer. Without the Grey making people sick, I think it’s likely that Zaunites have just become used to the air within a generation or two. This is also probably why Silco can handle the Grey; he was working when and where it ran rampant, and his body adapted. Can he breathe it indefinitely? Probably not, but he can for a time.

The Grey is a different beast, but humans live in cities with poor air quality all over the world without masking or falling sick—though they’re at an increased risk for illness. I think that this is more the comparison between the Piltover and Zaun in the series: the air is bad in Zaun but not toxic, which means that it’s more comfortable to use a mask/filter if you’re used to the “good air” from Piltover. I also think it’s likely that propaganda has over exaggerated the risks of breathing in Zaunish air… which is why by the end of the series, nobody’s really wearing a mask in Zaun. And I really do think it’s propaganda: the Piltover council is a mercantile guild, and those merchants either rely on trade or industry… if any part of that industry is happening in Zaun, it’s in their best interests to keep the status quo across the bridge. If Pilties started crossing and banded together with Zaun to demand better living conditions, that would be a problem.

Which is also why I think Silco’s interactions with the council were brief at best. I totally agree with the points already made, but I’ll take it a step further: if you were on a council and quashed a small uprising from your poorest citizens, would you not immediately figure out the names of the uprising leaders? And then keep tabs on them? I think that this is the most likely chain of events: Vander and Silco are upstart revolutionaries that plan and execute an uprising that fails horribly. The council needs to react but keeps things quiet; it cannot be a big deal in Piltover that half of city is primed for revolt, they need to diffuse the situation immediately. They ask for to parley with Vander and Silco at a neutral location. After seeing his friends die and being thrust into fatherhood, Vander is desperate for a peaceful solution to this—Silco, however, is out for blood. The diplomatic solution presented is what we see at the beginning of the show, which Silco sees right though and is disgusted with. He makes it very clear to Vander that with or without him, he will not stop fighting for Zaun, even if he has to kill them both to do it—at this point, all Vander can think about are Vi and Powder. He is responsible for them and if they’re gearing up for war it’s more than likely that everyone will die. In an effort to prevent more bloodshed, he tries to kill the person he loves. Vander is now working with enforcers and Silco is being constantly looked into to ensure he doesn’t try anything again.

I dunno if all of this made sense, but after reading all y’all’s awesome meta, just wanted to add my two cents!

@sorceressofthesky

I hope it's okay that I pull this out as the threads can have a tendency to get very long :)

Personally, I find it super hard to buy that that Silco was the one who talked Caitlyn's mom into building the ventilation systems after he took over from Vander.

Part of it is: if Silco was that good at talking to the council and getting them to do pro-Zaun things, why would he stop talking to them? Especially since season 1 shows how easily the council can be swayed into granting Zaun independence. I always read it as Silco not being interested in the council and not paying much attention to it, maybe because he has a low opinion of it. If he was already that involved with the council in the past, it just seems like big events from Jayce becoming a councilor, Heimerdinger being ousted or the Piltover reaction to the bridge massacre would be something he would show more interest in then he does.

The other part of it is that the Kiramman vents just … feel older? From the pathos of Caitlyn being handed the Kiramman key like it's a family tradition to the picture that presumably show the vents being opened. Either by a young Cassandra or by some even older ancestor. It just seems like if the vents were being built not just within Caitlyn's lifetime but also while Caitlyn is already pretty grown, it just seems like that would have come up?

The women is opening the vents together with miners in the background, evoking more the young Silco and Vander era.

And she's wearing the same or a very similar outfit to the portrait in the middle which is why people think either very young Cassandra or Cassandra's mother.

I'm not sure if I find the idea that Cassandra wouldn't know about the plight of the undercity just because tha very sheltered girl like Caitlyn didn't know all that plausible. We know she is sheltered because Cassandra even ordered for her to do boring prestige guard duty than even encounter just crime in Piltover. So if she has never been to the undercity and the papers don't write about it, how would she know?

And while the Pilties maybe are unlikely to casually care about the plight of the Zaunites, árguably them caring if it impacts their business is well in character (there's this really cool WIP by @out-there-tmblr that is just doing a plot about how the mines dug to deep, the Gray is getting worse so miners are start refusing to work those particular shafts so the Piltie engineers are coming in to install vents that imo feels plausible in "that's what Pilties would do" way).

And again, if Silco was responsible for it, why wouldn't he show up in those pictures compared to the Kiramman woman posing with miners? (it doesn't help that modern Zaun feels like it's more about factories than about mines)

So yes, I definitely leaning towards the vents being older based on the look of the Kiramman woman. But it being done within Vander and Silco's youth I think is an interesting idea.

I personally find it generally confusing how bad the air situation is. Yes the enforcers wear masks in Act 1, but none of the locals do. Then we have the sumps. The implications are that the sumps are low and "the bad parts" right?

So a headcanon could be something like:

Silco and Vander and some of the chem barons are young => The Gray is bad.

Cassandra installs the vents => air quality gets better. Maybe sections that weren't livable before are livable now.

Silco and Vander take their mining knowledge and maybe carve a middle section, somewhere between the upper levels that are already lived in by people and maybe too expensive and the sump that is still dark and shitty to live in.

There being more air systems in Silco's time could be advances in technology or it could be the factories causing a new, different type of pollution?

(an interesting facette here is the AU where the air is clearly much better but the implication is that it's done with more plant/nature based technology rather than more chemtechy one)

[complete side note, due to the 3 years Heimer has been there my head canon for the AU is that Silco and Vander reunited over Vi's death, together they made political advacements and that after a while in Heimer arrives and gave them a boost in regards to technology]

Silco saying to the chem barons he brought them up and gave them "a taste of topside" could also be explained by

the literally moved them from the lower levels to the higher levels (either by moving them to the lanes or by making them so rich that they can live even in the areas above the Lanes, just like their meeting tower is very high up even while Silco is the one who stil lives far down) after Vander was killed because they for some reason were stuck down there

or all people that lived lower moved to the Lanes when Silco and Vander "built the lanes".

or maybe a young Silco was among the miners that convinced the Kiramann's to build the vents

Finn's line is interesting, because it doesn't sound like Silco pulled him from the mines/depths. It sounds more like he was around during Vander's time watching from the sidelines and not liking how Vander was doign things. As opposed to he lived elsewhere and was lifted up.

But he also looks a bit younger, so he has a different backstory than the others (but there's generally the problem that I think the Caitlyn files said that at least one chembaron is actually a Piltie, so wouldn't at least that guy have a different backstory than the other chem barons? so when he's giving his speech to the chem barons there's at least two people in the room to whom that speech doesn't really apply?) . After all we have the "You're too young to remember what the undercity was before it became an "enterprise"."

So this exchange suggests:

there was a time where the Undercity was a lot more primitive and Vander does remember it but Finn is too young

but already under Vander the undercity became more like an enterprise (maybe because Vander and Silco turned the Lanes into a more smuggling/trade based economy rather than a mining/producing based one, or maybe also because of the protection money) at least in Finn's eyes, or at least he thought it had the potential to be one if run better

Another thing I find confusing is okay, so there's the region where the shimmer addicts live, right? And the implication to me was that is the bad part of Zaun? The part where the air is bad, where the lowest of the low live, that's why Jesus!Viktor goes there to make his commune.

But according to season 1, this is where Vi, Powder, Connel and Felicia lived. Ie the place where presumably all the fluffy Powder and Vi as kids memories from the Remember Me flashback take place. At first I thought maybe that place was like just a shack where maybe they just played and Felicia made the height charts, but it looks like a comparatively nice house with a staircase and ornaments?

Again, if this the shitty place of the Undercity, why would Vander and Silco's cherished friend live there when the Last Drop was available?

Benzo talks to Vander about "rounding up the collections",

Yes, just like Sevika talks about doing the same for Silco in season 2.

IMO both Silco and Vander were taking protection money. I personally think that they both can be seen as as a system of proto-taxes and it's more a question whether people got anything back from it. Maybe that's a reason why Vander seemed to be more popular with the people, if people saw it more as Vander building up infrastructure/houses for them while with Silco the money goes more towards building up factories or making weapons. (with factories likely being useful infrastructure as well, but maybe people don't see it because it's more indirect).

But that's kind of an interesting question in itself: What does Vander spend his money on? He seems to be living a well enough maybe "middle-class-y" lifestyle with his kids, but Vi certainly doesn't feel rich, hence her rants about how they have nothing compared to Pilties.

I would presume he has an income from the bar. So if he the bar money and the collection money, was is the money being spent on? Paying the guys who do the collections? Maybe they serve as guards/police against those unwanted elements that according to Jinx's season 2 line started fighting as soon as Vander was gone? But if Vander has like organized supporters, why on earth did Vi think it was a good idea to collect her kid brothers as support to spring Vander free from Silco rather than fetch whatever remaining allies Vander might have had? Or at the "guys" Benzo speaks off more like loose contractors, maybe not even particularly powerful people and people pay their taxes just out of fear of Vander?

(I have played around with the idea that maybe Vander spends the and Silco is more the "I will build a factory that gives you employment so you can make your own money" guy) collections on more charitable things like families in need () and that's why people remember him fondly. But with the whole "build the lanes" thing, maybe there's a chance that there are still building projects/they are still expanding? I think a big thing with the whole "building the lanes" in an engineering way that I just don't pictured neither Vander not Silco as that much of a construction/engineering guy, but who knows. Maybe just Zaunite ingenuity again)

#arcane #meta

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