#I feel like I'm contradicting everyone here

[luna-loveboop]

So one thing I like about Time is that he will talk about his life and journeys

He talks about it! He'll tell the boys stories and answer questions. (...when asked)

Obviously he tells his family- Malon knows everything

But he has also never held back from telling the boys stories or answering questions

I'm still always cackling over him telling them about gerudo town- he is way too proud to brag about being a mischievous gremlin

"I proved to be a greater thief than all of ganons tribe"- oh yeah. He's definitely the good influence. (That's sarcasm, Wars is the one good example for the younger ones.)

He just. He looks so smug to tell them about his experiences with the Gerudo- I love how often we see him just talking to them and answering questions about his life.

Even if it's clearly painful memories- he has still always told them

*sobs*

Obviously Time talks to Twilight the most about stuff- and everyone knows that (to where Sky went to him for questions about Time)

But the thing that get me the most is Wind.

Wind asked about... everything! Wind asked about his first journey and his life- and Time told him

The sheer transition from

"I was wondering... about your original journey"

To

"You told me about your original journey. Everything you said... the sages you described, the old traditions, the old stories- all of it! ...)

And this literally drives me insane because Time told him- Time told him everything! He told him about the sages, traditions- Time literally openly talked to Wind about his first Journey because he asked.

The Hero of Time's story had always been a tragedy- I mean... yikes. Trauma much? But I think people overlook this part of him- that he's older. All the hurt and scars are still there, but he has learned to talk about it to deal with it. And I think I know why- (Read)

Malon Malon Malon Malon!!! Jojo showed this set up for their marriage- Time was and is traumatized. But he and Malon worked to talk through things. I mean. Can you imagine keeping secrets from Malon? I don't want to. I feel like she would throw a cow at me. Anyways.

It takes a lot to work through trauma and learn to talk through it. Malon claimed him tho, so I don't think he had a choice. But seriously- she helped him work through things as family. Which led to a successful marriage for both of them, and got Time to where he can talk about these things with the boys :D

But

Time is a troll, so although he will share his insane life stories.... he will also say he fought the moon with no more context, and tell his wife that they have a descendant but not freaking tell her which one it is.

He's so insane I love it <3

Just don't forget this part of him... don't forget that rather it's sad or goofy or whatever- he will talk about his life. If someone simply asks

:)

.

Art and comic by Jojo @linkeduniverse au! :DDD

@adrift-in-thyme

[carry-the-sky]

.

[quiets-cradle]

the 1984 references on the whiteboards in ep 3 of genloss and the absolute lack of reaction in the live chat. i'm losing my mind.

[truecorvid]

starting to suspect that i am not very good at engaging in open/honest/non judgmental conversations on the internet actually

[sluturu]

GAG ON IT .ᐟ — N. KENTO ୨‧₊˚✩

about. the only thing you want more than anything in the world is to get your boyfriend off but… you don't know how. luckily, nanami kento is a great teacher.

pairing. nanami kento x f!reader (non-sorcerer au)

wc. 2.6k

cw. dom!nanami, sub!virgin reader, (messy) oral (m. receiving), humiliation kink (if you squint), reader has a heavy praise kink, f!masturbation, pet names, face f!cking + deepthroating, head-pusher nanamin <3, slight angst (again, if you squint), reader is kinda insecure about lack of experience, lots of praise and validation ♡

kit’s note. hi, i'm (sorta) new here so pls forgive my writing and any mistakes... i haven't written in, like, 84 years and this really wasn’t supposed to be as long as it is. nonetheless, i hope u enjoy my very first jjk fic — kit ୨ৎ

nanami kento was one sexually experienced man. 

you knew this. from the very first glance, it was undeniable. something in the way he carried himself, the gravity of his presence, told you—no, assured you—that he would unravel you, reshape you, and leave his mark in ways you couldn’t yet comprehend.

and, of course, you were correct.

you, however, were his perfect contradiction, a stark contrast that bled into everything you had built together, evident in every moment, every choice, every collision of your worlds.

nanami was your first boyfriend, and while school had offered its version of ‘sex education’ and the internet had no shortage of explicit material, none of it had ever translated into real experience—well, until him.

you’ve been turned on before, no doubt about it. you’ve given yourself a few weak orgasms with an amazon vibrator, sure. but the carnal desire you got when nanami was around was a feeling you’d never experienced before. how could a man be so hot and sweet and turn you on without even trying? he was perfect. beyond perfect. 

and he was respectful. always so respectful. he wanted your first time to be everything you’ve ever dreamed of because he knows that’s what everyone deserves– it’s what you, above all, deserve. that’s why he decided to take it slow regardless of his personal desires. 

it started with soft pecks. the teeny tiny ones that had you aching for more. those slowly led to real kisses, his tongue seeking solace in your mouth, roaming and exploring the new territory. then came the make out sessions, him leaving love bites on your neck while you rocked yourself against him subconsciously. which finally verged on him eating you out with his thick, long fingers fucking in and out of your cunt. 

he was amazing– so mind-boggling that you couldn’t make sense of it. while you knew that he knew what he was doing, it had you appalled. he could make you cum one, two, three times in one sitting and you’ve never even heard of anything like this in your friends’ sex lives. 

there was one miniscule problem with nanami, though. when you would ask if he needed help with the big… issue in his pants, he’d brush you off with a “don’t worry about me, sweetheart,” like the gentleman he is.

the more and more he refused your helping hand, the worse you felt. why should you be the only one that gets to feel good? especially when it’s at the hand of someone as compassionate and caring as nanami. 

the insecurities had been festering within you for a while now. all you wanted was for him to feel good. you wanted him to have the same toe-curling experiences that he gives you. you wanted him to cum for you, because of you.

you’d hoped that one day, he might ask you for help to get him off, yet that day never came. 

it’s why you decided to take matters into your own hands, asking him to come over to your apartment and dropping to your knees the second he entered your home. you gave him the biggest doe eyes and pout you could muster. 

he was stunned, mouth ajar and eyes widened. you’re not usually so bold with him, which was fine. admittedly, he always thought your aversion to talking about sexual things was kinda cute. 

still awestruck after a minute, he breathily asks, “sweetheart, wh-what are you…” 

“well, ken, i’ve been thinking about you and me a lot lately and i realized… you’re always so giving… ‘n you’re always taking such good care of me.” you shyly trail off him as your hands itched to touch him… to take his cock into your hands– into your mouth. “i wanna take care of you now, if you’d let me?”

“you don’t have to do that, my love. i do those things because i want to, not because i have to. you should know that.” he says, airly. a voice that you’ve only ever heard a handful of times. one that makes your cunt pulse. 

“i know. i jus’ want you to use my mouth, ken. you’re… you’re always making me feel good,” you beg with your eyes. “wanna make you feel good, too.”

“oh, baby,” he smiles softly at you, hand cupping your cheek while his finger brushes over the pout on your lips. “but you always make me feel good.” 

you slightly open your mouth allowing his thumb to enter. your lips wrap around his finger, eyes fluttering close and a broken, needy moan sounding in your throat. you suck the way you’d actually suck him off, hand coming to wrap around his wrist while your tongue swirls around him.

nanami holds back his moan at the sight of you crazed and depraved. he’s seen you needy before but never to this degree. never so eager to please.

“fuck,” he muttered to himself, slipping his thumb out of your mouth and smearing your saliva over your lips. he pulls your bottom lip down, “you want it that bad, princess?”

 you nodded, “please— so bad, kento.” 

and he could never say no to you. especially not when you’re giving him teary eyes and that voice. 

so he nods, unbuttoning his pants and pulling the zipper down. the sound alone excites you, yet you can’t help but feel the apprehension of being face to face with his cock. 

nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight before you. while you’d felt him through his pants during your messy makeout sessions, his intimidating size exceeded your expectations by a mile. you accepted the challenge, nonetheless. 

and now, here you were struggling to take his cock down your throat. and while he’d been praising you like crazy, you knew good and well he wasn’t getting off anytime soon. it’s when he suggested eating you out instead, you knew that your attempts were futile.

“you wanna try again, baby?” nanami coos softly as he strokes the top of your head. “we can stop if you wanna… i can eat that pretty pussy instead, i don’t mind at all.” the suggestion makes your heat throb but you shake your head incessantly. you can do this.

you look up at him through your wet lashes and he twitches in your dainty hand. “i wanna make you cum for once.” the words tumble out of your swollen lips in a mutter. 

he frowns, hands coming back to your cheeks, only this time, the pads of his thumbs meet the wet, heated skin, brushing away the remainder of your tears.

you might be too good for him. you don’t even know how many times the thought of you alone has gotten nanami off. you don’t know how many cold showers he’s had to take, how much self-control it takes to be around you.

he sighs, squishing your face and forces you to look up at him. “alright, sweetheart, open wide for me, yeah? i’ll guide you.” his hands force you to nod. your heart skips a beat and the kaleidoscope of butterflies swarm wildly in your stomach. 

you oblige almost immediately, parting your lips, ready to (try and) take him again. 

“‘kay, we’re gonna go slow. remember to breathe through your nose– and no teeth.” he instructs and you’re nodding, wrapping your pretty lips around his gorgeous length. “i’ll let you lead, you can move your head down a little more when you’re ready, yeah?”

nanami sharply exhales when he feels the warmth of your mouth. heat spreads through his toned body like a wildfire– you drive him crazy. 

even more crazy when you suddenly remember what you’ve seen in the pornos your friends forced you to watch. you look up at him through your lashes, letting your tongue swipe against the slit of his cock. “fuck, that’s it, sweet girl. use that tongue.”

you don’t know why, but the whispered curse that slips from his plump lips– lips that are raw from the way he can’t stop gnawing at them– has you arching into him. your cunt is begging for friction, so much so that it has you weeping. your eyes and your pussy. 

his praise spurs you on and you push your head down some more. it makes you gag, yes, but you remember what he said, breathing heavily through your nose. you’re already crying and looking back up to see his face contorted in pleasure has you taking him deeper and deeper. you need more of these reactions– you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything more, but that could be the need to please clouding your judgment. 

nanami can’t resist the urge to fuck your cute little face when you look at him like that. the tears… the big, wide eyes trying to keep contact with his eyes… the way you look like a complete, utter mess all for him. 

he moves his hands to dig into your hair before pushing you some more. the tip of his cock gets lodged in your tight throat and he loses it when he feels you attempting to swallow around him.

he throws his head back and lets out an echoing moan. “you’re suuuch a good girl. take my cock so well, pretty. ‘m so p-proud of you.” he praises. “so good f’me, aren’t you?” 

you choke, letting the tears fall without an ounce of shame, but you nod with your mouth full of cock. you could care less about the way he’s actively bruising your throat, you’re making him feel good… and that makes you feel good. so good that you’re subtly fucking the air in hopes your boyfriend doesn’t notice.

“yeaaah, you are…” he hums, looking back down at you, taking him like the good girl you are. of course he notices you, he has a keen eye for these things. “aw, look at you. so needy… ‘s sucking me off getting you hot ‘n bothered?”

you whine in agreement, vibrating him to his core. you choke at the words, spluttering all over his cock creating bubbles of saliva at the base. his hands tug on your hair, pulling you off and it leaves you heaving, soft sobs ripping from your throat. 

“tell me, sweetheart. i wanna make sure my girl is always satisfied.” he demands in a somewhat authoritative tone.

“k-ken, don’t care ‘bout that– i-i wan’ you to cum,” you practically beg to have him back in your mouth, but his hands in your hair hold you still. 

he shakes his head, “uh-uh, none of that. go ahead and play with yourself for me, just like i taught you. you remember that, don’t you, my love?” 

he makes your head nod again, his cock throbbing at the sight of your drool covering the entirety of your chin. 

you let out a shaky breath as your hand moves from his muscular thigh to the waistband of your shorts. as you slip inside, your fingers find your desperate clit, rubbing it in circles the way he taught you. “k-ken, pl-please,” you moan.

he shudders, stomach flipping and cock twitching eagerly like he’s some teenager who’s never been touched. “please what, pretty girl?” he asks, his attempts to mask his neediness were vain and it was starting to show. 

“please, fuck my face, kento. ple–” your words are muffled by nanami shoving his cock back into your mouth. 

he lets his composure fly out the window, the guttural groan he’s been keeping down comes out loud– loud enough to make your eyes widen. “g-god, sweetheart– you’re… you’re gonna drive me–” he pushes your head down, squeezing his eyes shut as you swallow around him again. “insane. fuck, you’re so good, so good for me– fuck, baby, you’re making me feel so good.” 

nanami knows he’ll probably regret rambling like this later, but, unbeknownst to him, it has you rubbing your clit like your life depends on it. messy circles over the unduly sensitive bud while he thrusts into your mouth with just as much vigor. 

you gag and gag and the only thing it does is make nanami whine. he will definitely hate himself later for losing his self control, but right now? he’s madly in love with you and he’s showing it by giving you exactly what you want. pounding his cock into your mouth, using your face just like you asked. 

your eyes roll and brows furrow in ecstasy, the now-familiar knot in your tummy forms with zeal. 

“sweetheart– ugh, forgive me.” he moans, voice cracking handsomely. “fuck, baby. ‘m gonna cum– y-you’re making it so hard to hold back.” 

why would you want him to? that’s the exact opposite of what you want. you try to relay that by snaking your free hand to the back of his thigh and pulling him towards you. 

he hears your actions loud and clear and, before you know it, you feel the ribbons of seed painting your throat as his cock twitches uncontrollably. 

the groans that leave his mouth are sinful. you’ve never heard him sound like this in the entirety of your time together— so unhinged and feral. you find that what’s coming out of his mouth might be your favorite sound ever and it’s definitely become your favorite side of him. the side of nanami where he’s the complete opposite of his otherworldly, chivalrous self. the gentleman you’ve grown to know and love is a hungry, filthy, masked freak and you fear that you’ve just released a beast upon you. not that you mind in the slightest. the thought only excites you further.

“god, you’re such a good fucking girl,” he says through gritted teeth. “so pretty and perfect, all for me. my good girl.” 

your fingers work faster at the praise and your muffled whimpers grow louder. all the while, your mouth overflows with his heavy load and you feel it beginning to leak from the corners of your lips. 

once nanami notices, he pulls himself out of your mouth and you cough, choking over the exorbitant amounts of cum in attempts to swallow all of it. 

“k-ken,” you heave, your voice hoarse. your fingers are still rubbing at your clit, uncoordinated, yet it’s getting the job done. “did i do okay?” 

nanami’s still coming down from his mind blowing orgasm, chest huffing and puffing, but when he hears you seeking validation, he’s on his knees before you in an instant. 

his hand slips in your panties and finds yours, your nimble fingers toying with your bud. 

“so well. now c’mere,” he mutters. his fingers guide yours— he’s simply moving yours for you— and his other hand comes to cup your cheek. hungry for a taste, he slams his lips against yours, tongue invading your mouth despite the fact that he just came in it. 

his fingers move yours faster and faster and you don’t even realize he’s pushing yours aside to take over. 

you’re so weak when it comes to him. with him tonguing your mouth and his fingers working you, it’s no wonder you're coming undone in less than a minute.

you moan a mantra of his name into his, your body going taut as the knot in your tummy unravels. 

he lets you ride it out, playing with your cunt till your shaky hands wrap around his wrist and you pull his hand away. 

he moves his lips to your cheek, trailing wet pecks all the way to your ear. he whispers in your ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth.

“i might be addicted to your pretty little mouth, sweetheart.”

© all works belong to SLUTURU 2025. do not copy or repost.

[transmutationisms]

I love your takes, but I feel super, super lost with what you were trying to say about the natalism one. I feel like you're saying that there is no contradiction on wanting more babies, a higher population number and punishing mothers, but can you elaborate on that a bit more, because it does seems contradictory. I'm not disagreeing with you, I just want to understand it better.

alright there's a perennial debate (on here but also in a wider cultural sense) that goes on where people start noticing that some of the ways in which we socially and economically de/value children, parenthood, and specifically motherhood are internally contradictory. how can it be that there is immense social and economic pressure to heterosexually partner and reproduce, and yet most public and social infrastructure is also profoundly hostile to children and their guardians? why is it that this person couldn't find a doctor to perform a voluntary hysterectomy because their bodily preferences were subordinated to the medical valorisation of their fertility, and yet this other person was forcibly sterilised or coerced into using contraception because the prospect of them reproducing is framed as socially destabilising and degenerative? how are 'family values' touted by politicians who openly and explicitly also hate real existing families? do they want people to have more children or fewer? is it more counterculture and rebellious to have children or to not have children? to have sex or to not have sex? to partner off? to be polyam or monogamous?

the answer broadly speaking is that the oppositions people see here are only surface-level. the bourgeois state's interest is in biopower, and this produces competing demands: for some people to partner off and reproduce, and for others to be exterminated. the valorisation of the white middle-class nuclear family is the same as the devalorisation of its negations: racialised people, disabled people, family arrangements other than nuclear and heterosexual, etc. you can't understand the demand that people reproduce if you don't understand it is necessarily also accompanied by the demand that other people don't. these aren't actually contradictory once you understand that what the bourgeois state wants has nothing to do with your individual behaviours and everything to do with how many 'desirable' bodies it has at its disposal. that economic consideration is what creates both the natalist policy meant to encourage [some people's] reproduction, and the exterminatory policy meant to suppress and eradicate [other people's] reproduction.

usually this kind of conversation very quickly devolves into a privilege framework argument, where people are trying to find some kind of social hierarchy that is hegemonically applied top-down and that rewards, universally, certain behaviour choices over others. again, the "people who marry and reproduce are privileged and socially rewarded over me #childfree" versus "actually some people still have to fight tooth and nail to even get medical support / approval to have children, let alone actually get access to the kind of economic and social support necessary to raise them" debate. it's smoke and mirrors because there is no universal privileging of the choice to have children or not have children. what there is, is a privileging of certain people on the basis of the economic assessment of them as biological assets, and the inverse (and mutually constitutive) devaluations of everyone else. really over-discussed examples here but to give them anyway: this is why, for example, french natalist policy and the USA's constant efforts to strip back welfare-net policies in order to harm (primarily) black families are both arising from the same basic impulses of two imperialist nation-states. obviously there are different histories and contextual factors that have resulted in france and the US trying to skin the same cat in different ways. but what they share is an underlying interest in trying to shore up their population in both size and 'fitness', understood here in its full racialised and eugenic meaning.

[yuukiiqwq]

Our Blue Spring: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Time stopped for you that day. That day where all four of you are laughing together, the sun brightly shining, the wind gently blowing, the sky a beautiful blue, where all of you believed everything was going to be alright.

Tags/Warning: Fem!reader, Teen!Gojo, Reader is a jujutsu sorcerer, Fluff, Gojo in love, Gojo in denial, One-Shot

˚✧˚. Wc: 2.5k ˚✧˚.

"Shoko! I need help!" Satoru burst through Shoko's door. "I think I'm dying!"

Shoko turned around to face Satoru. She did not want to deal with his childish antics right now. It was 8am in the morning, and she was surviving on less than 2 hours of sleep.

"Gojo Satoru. I haven't had my morning coffee yet. Do not talk to me until I have my coffee. I am not ready for whatever thing you have to say."

Satoru put his hand on his chest and whined dramatically– "You wound me Shoko! I could be dying right now, and all you care about is coffee!"

"Please do. It would save everyone from your annoyance," Shoko sighs.

"I am not annoyi–"

"Just tell me why you think your dying when you're perfectly fine."

"Well–" Satoru quickly plopped down on Shoko's chair and leaned his head back. "Lately, my heart had been beating super fast and–"

"Out of nowhere?" Shoko interrupted.

"Well, no but–"

"So around someone?"

"Technically, yes, but will you–"

"Around who?"

Satoru huffed angrily and crossed his arm. "Will you let me finish first! It's like I'm being ignored here!"

Shoko ignored his comment and continued– "Around wh–"

"Nuh, uh! Let me finish talking first!" Satoru immediately interrupted. "So, as I was saying before, I was rudely interrupted."

Shoko rolled her eyes at his comment because Satoru always rudely interrupted people when they're talking.

"Lately, my heart always beat super fast around her, and my eyes always follow her around. I always want to see her smile and see her happy. Whenever I see her sad or hurt–" Satoru grasped his shirt tightly where his heart was and looked down– "My chest hurts. It feels like someone ripped my heart out, which is impossible since I'm the strongest!"

Shoko had an expression of shock before it turned into amusement.

"And who is this girl?"

"Y/N! She must have cursed me, right? She must be envious of how strong I am despite her always denying it! Shoko! Diagnose me! I'm sure I'm dying!"

Shoko couldn't help but laugh at this predicament.

"Why are you laughing?" Satoru pouted. "I'm dying, and you're laughing at me."

Shoko eyes sparkled in amusement and mischief.

"You're diagnosed with love."

"What?"

"Suguruuuuu!"

"No, Satoru. I don't want to listen to you complain about your crush for the 50th time today."

"I don't like her! I just–you know!" Satoru whined and made some weird hand gestures.

"Satoru. I swear to God, I will summon a curse right now to eat you. Ever since that day where Shoko diagnose you with love, you only talked about her, complained about how much you like her, how she doesn't pay enough attention to you and then denies it the very next second." Suguru sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He can already feel an upcoming headache from this conversation.

"I don't like her!" Satoru whines again. "I don't like her just because my eyes follow wherever she goes. I just want to be close to her at all time! It's not my fault my heart and soul desires hers. It's not like I want her to be mine or anything! I don't like her like that."

"Satoru. You're contradicting yourself in every sentence."

"Excuse me? I am not!" He crosses his arms and starts to sulk.

"Are you guys fighting again?"

They both turned around to see you and Shoko carrying drinks.

"They're probably were being the idiot they are. Always fighting about the stupidest things." Shoko sighs and puts down the drinks on the table. "And they're the ones who made us go out and buy them drinks. I should be the one beating them up."

"Satoru was complaining about his crush again. This is like the 50th time today." Suguru grabs the newly brought coffee from the table. "Even coffee won't save me from this catastrophe."

"Geez Satoru, poor Suguru having to go through all that," you laughed. "When are you going to tell us who got you all whipped up?"

All three of them stared at you. Like stared at you.

"Why are you guys staring at me? I'm sure all three of us want to know who he likes since all he talks about is her."

"It's nothing to worry your pretty head about," Satoru says as he grabs his coma-inducing drink.

"You wouldn't understand since you're so oblivious to such obvious hints," Shoko said as she sat down and grabbed her coffee. "He's absolutely smitten by her, and the girl is completely oblivious."

This immediately causes Satoru to complain – "Excuse you! I do not give out obvious hints, and I absolutely am not smitten! I do not like her like that!"

What you didn’t notice during this time was how he kept sneaking quick glances at you. It's not like he can help it! You obviously had some dust on you, and it was bothering him!

"Why is she with Nanami!? I'm so much cooler than Nanami!" Satoru glares at you who is busy talking to Nanami. "Why isn't she spending time with me!"

At this moment, all Suguru wanted to do was to dump Satoru into the trash can. Shut the lid and hope that the garbage man takes him far away. Not that it will help since Satoru could teleport.

"For the love of everything nice, Satoru just confesses that you're in love with her. Stop being in denial. I'm going to lose my mind listening to you complain every day about the same thing."

Satoru huffed– "It's not love!"

"Satoru, listen. What if someone comes up to her and takes her away from you? What are you going to do?"

"That's such an easy question!" Satoru laughed. "I can use reversal red on them, duh! Even their ashes won't remain!"

"What if she likes them too? Or what happens when we lose her all together? You know being a sorcerer is dangerous," Suguru sighed.

That immediately stopped Satoru from laughing. The smile immediately wiped away from his face, and the light in his eyes dimmed. The expression on Satoru's face was fear? Uneasiness? For once, Suguru couldn't tell what expression was on Satoru's face. He couldn't figure out what he was feeling.

"Satoru?"

No response.

"Satoru," Suguru shaked his shoulder. "Satoru."

Saroru snapped out of his daze. A smile immediately reappeared on his face, and his eyes light up once more.

"Hm? What did you say, Suguru? You bored me so much with your rambling that I dazed off~"

"Satoru–"

Before Suguru can reply– "Satoru! Suguru!"

Both of them look toward the sound of your voice. You were dragging Nanami toward them.

"Ah, finally bored of just talking to Nanami?" Satoru laughed as he walked up to meet you halfway. He then put his arms around Nanami. "Nanami is quite boring compared to me after all~"

You stared at him and then frowned. "Satoru."

"Hm?" He hummed as he tilt his head to face you.

"What's wrong? You're acting stran–"

"Nothing is wrong," he immediately interrupted you, smiling brightly. "You're imagining things. Everything is fine, right Suguru?"

Your frown deepen. Something wasn't right.

Satoru felt like using reverse red. For all he knows, all he can see is red. Today was the day of the goodwill event, and there was this guy from Kyoto Tech who's putting his hands all over you. He felt like something was clawing his chest open. Sure, there is a rule of no killing, but surely they'll understand that his hand slipped, right? He just wanted to get rid of that weird feeling in his chest.

He then felt someone's hand on his shoulder.

"Jealousy is an ugly look, Satoru. You're going to stare a hole into that guy."

"I'm not jealous, Suguru. That guy just looks so annoying! He's annoying me by existing! I just think my hand is slipping, which might cause me to accidently use reversal red."

Suguru shakes his head in amusement.

"Whatever you say, Satoru. But she doesn't need rescuing Satoru," Suguru said as he pointed toward your direction. "Look."

They watched you as you elbowed the guy in the guts. The guy crumbled onto the floor, and you leaned down and said something to him before you noticed both of them. You immediately smiled and came up to them.

Suguru laughed as he ruffled your hair– "Ouch. That looks like it hurts a lot."

"He deserved it," you huffed. "He was annoying and being a disgusting pervert."

"Surely I can reverse red him, right? I mean, it's not like anyone will notice him gone–"

"Absolutely not, Satoru!" You quickly turned to look at him. "The rule of this event is absolutely no killing even if he's a creep!"

Satoru looked you in the eyes and then whined– "Fineeeee. No killing! Maybe a few broken bones or–"

"Satoru!"

The sun was setting, and when the goodwill event ended, the guy from earlier has seen much better days. He was covered in bruises, broken bones, and a few fractures. But it's ok! He's just an NPC that no one would care about, as Satoru claimed.

"See, I didn't kill him!" Satoru exclaimed as he waited for you to compliment him.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. "Good job, I guess."

"You guess?? How rude! I defended your honor!" Satoru complained.

"You saw me elbowing his gut this morning, Satoru," you replied, which led to Satoru to look away and sulk.

You laughed at his behavior before saying– "The sunset is beautiful today."

Satoru looked back up but not at the sunset. He looked at you. The way the light kissed your skin made you look beautiful. He felt his breath get taken away by your beauty. You were always beautiful to him. His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest.

"Yeah. Absolutely beautiful."

After the goodwill event passed, Satoru was acting weird. Yeah, he's normally weird, but this was a whole different weird. Lately, he always seems to be in a daze thinking about something.

Today, you guys decided to go to the park to hang out, but Satoru was even more unusually quiet.

"Satoru! Earth to Satoru!" You called as you wave your hand over his face.

"Huh?" Satoru snapped out of his daze. "What's happening?"

"Shoko and Suguru went to buy some popsicles. You didn't answer them, so they said they'll make sure not to get you anything," you shaked your head and sighed. "We called you multiple times, but you didn't answer. What's on your mind lately? I'm worried about you."

Satoru bit the bottom of his lips and got up from the swing. He pushed you to sit down on the swing and held the chain with his hands.

"Satoru?" You tilted your head to the side in confusion.

He took a deep breath and looked you in the eyes.

"I have something to say. I think I'm in love."

You were about to open your mouth to say something, but Satoru quickly continued.

"Don't say anything until I finish."

You closed your mouth and nodded. Satoru's cheek was dusted in a shade of light pink. You couldn't help but think about how cute he looked in this moment.

"You remember asking who I was 'whipped' up for? The one I always complain to Suguru about?"

You slowly nodded your head.

"It's you. It's always been you. My heart always beat uncontrollably fast around you. All my thoughts are consumed by you and only you. I want you to be happy. I want you to smile. I never want to see you hurt. I don't ever want to see you sad. Lately, I’ve been thinking about what life would be like without you and... it's hard to imagine. I feel like there's this hole in my chest when I imagine what life would have been like without you. Maybe I have been denying my feelings for a long time despite knowing that I was in love."

You notice how Satoru was trembling. He was scared.

"I'm scared. I'm scared of these new and weird feelings in my chest. I'm scared of love. I'm scared of the changes it will bring. I'm scared of the pain of losing you because I love you. I'm scared to lose you. I'm scared to imagine my life without you. But I want you to be mine. I love you. I love you so much that I feel like dying without you. Will you please date me? Go on a date with me? Let me court you? Be my girlfriend? Let me call you mine? Please?"

You were beyond surprised. You didn’t expect him to confess to you out of everyone. You definitely didn’t expect him to pour out all his feelings either. But it was a pleasant surprise. You couldn’t help but smile gently at Satoru.

"Satoru." You said as you cupped his face.

He looks at you, eyes gleaming with anticipation and fear.

"I'll date you."

The second you said those three words, Satoru eyes light up with happiness.

"Really?" He asked as he took your hands off his cheek and into his own.

"Really."

Satoru immediately pulled you up from the swing, lifted you up, and spinned you around. He couldn't help but feel relieved that you agreed to date him. He felt extremely happy. He felt like he had the world in his hands, and in a way, he did. Because you are his world.

"Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you," he laughed.

You couldn't help but laugh along with him. After all, he had the brightest smile on his face right now. He was radiating pure happiness. He gently put you back down onto the ground and leaned down towards you.

"I want to kiss you. May I? Or am I moving too fast?"

You smiled, leaned in, and wrapped your arms around his neck– "You may."

He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer. When he leaned down and your lips gently connected, you felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach. A feeling of warmth spread across your body. It was like everything was perfect. Like it was meant to be. It felt just right.

When your lips parted, both of your cheeks were dusted with a shade of pink. You stared in each other's eyes for a moment before both of you crack a smile.

"About flipping time."

Both of you jumped and turned around to see Shoko and Suguru. Their eyes were sparkling, and they had a smirk on their face.

"You guys–" you started as you carried a massive blush on your face. "How long have you been there?"

"The whole time," Shoko laughed as she shook her head.

You looked down and then noticed that they hadn't brought any popsicles like they said they were going to.

"Man," Satoru whined and nuzzled against you. "You guys totally set this up, didn't you?"

A moment of silence passed before you let out a laugh. Your laugh caused Satoru to start laughing as well. Which ended up with all four of you standing there laughing.

In your mind right now, time stopped. All four of you together, the sun brightly shining, the wind gently blowing, the sky a beautiful blue, where all of you believed everything was going to be alright.

Author's note: I struggled a lot with deciding the ending... I wanted it to be a happy ending, but I also originally planned for a sad ending. After going back and forth for a while, I decided a happy ending with a tiny hint of angst. 🩵

[embracing-the-ineffable]

Beware clickbait accusations

Hi fandom, here's what happened yesterday: A reporter named Rachel Johnson, who is the sister to Boris Johnson and a big terfy supporter of JK Rowling, released a 4-part true crime podcast featuring two women accusing Neil Gaiman of SA. Yesterday. The day before the UK elections. This post explores the possible political links in more detail.

CW: this post is free of graphic details, but if you follow these links, there may be explicit descriptions of sex, kink, and bdsm, plus mentions of mental illness and suicidal thoughts.

I want to believe and support survivors, and I also want to base my thoughts and actions on facts. I thought the xitter livestream commentary from Not Becky for all 4 episodes was very insightful. There's also a first episode transcript without extra commentary. (Edit: released after I wrote this post: the full audio plus transcripts for all four episodes of the podcast are now available to download here, or you can read all four transcripts in your browser.) I have since concluded (pending more time to think and read and learn, or any new information, of course):

This seems like the worst kind of clickbait, an unjustified mess that will hurt everyone involved (except possibly a few politicians who might benefit somehow, we'll see). The evidence the "reporters" present directly contradicts their accusations. They're counting on people reading headlines and not digging any deeper.

They tried to make something sinister where there was apparently consent and a caring relationship. Have they exploited one or both of these women? S, in particular, is described as vulnerable and with a history of unspecified mental illness. They have all of the message history between S and Neil, and her messages make the sexy stuff between the two of them sound enthusiastically consensual. There are even messages (multiple!) where she specifically says everything was consensual. Here's one:

They're playing horror music in the background to try to make us feel horrified, even as S reassures us that things were consensual. It's emotional manipulation by the reporters.

The times S sounds upset during the interview are the times she talks about Neil leaving her behind or not paying attention to her. Not the times she talks about consent violations. Her stories during the interview are inconsistent, and they contradict her messages with Neil and with others. Maybe we'll get better information from a more reputable news source, or maybe not, I don't know. I also don't know why anyone who cares about her would have advised her to do this interview.

Then they tracked down lots of other women who know/have dated Neil and they all had glowing things to say, except one other lover from 20 years ago, K. She described some bad sex, and then pointed to a time in their 2-year relationship when she felt something wasn't consensual and he thought it was. And after their breakup, they continued to text and flirt, for decades.

This podcast "exposé" feels like explosive clickbait with political ramifications. The evidence here doesn't support a pattern of poor conduct so much as establish Neil as a fellow well-meaning human with imperfect judgement. That doesn't mean the accusations are all made up; intimate partner violence is complicated, and the responsibility for checking in and getting regular enthusiastic consent from partners is very real, especially when kink or bdsm are involved.

I don't know what the right balance is here between supporting survivors, thinking critically, assuming good intentions, and waiting for better information, but I feel confident that this podcast alone is not enough to condemn anyone aside from the irresponsible journalists who inflicted it on the rest of us.

PS/edit: I'm tagging my relevant posts (mostly reblogs) with #ineffable grief, and you can see all of them here.

[pbaz7]

CROSSING THE LINE — PART NINE ♡

paige x azzi

warnings: panic attack

word count: 5k

A/N: This chapter was a little sad to write but I liked detailed I was able to get with Paige's feelings . If you didn't see my post earlier I'm not sure where I'm going from here yet with this story. This might be one of the last chapters with like an epilogue or something but idk fully yet. Please let me know what you think and leave live reactions and comments if you can! Hope everyone had a nice holiday 😊

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

Mid February 2024

Paige stared at her reflection in the mirror, her face pale, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. The weight of it all felt unbearable. Her mind churned with a constant noise—comments, critiques, expectations, all bouncing off the walls of her head. No matter how hard she worked, it was never enough. Each day was a new round of judgment, and she was so tired no matter how much she tried to hide it. 

It was February, and UConn had only lost two games this season, but both had come with a heavy cost. The media storm that followed each loss made it feel like the world was spinning just a little bit too fast, dragging her along with it. Geno’s contradicting criticisms were always looming. She was too passive one game, too aggressive the next, but always too something. She shot too much, didn’t shoot enough, forced too many shots. Every mistake, every misstep, every decision, was held under a microscope, dissected and discussed endlessly.

Paige’s breath came in shallow gasps as she stared at herself in the mirror, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. The scoreboard in her mind was relentless. If she didn’t get at least 25, if she didn’t clearly dominate the game, she wasn’t good enough. It didn’t matter that she was impacting the game in other ways—her assists, her defense, her leadership, her mere gravity on the court. None of that seemed to matter. Only the numbers in the point column.

The pressure was suffocating. No matter how many hours she spent perfecting her game, it was never enough.

Every morning, the first thought in her head wasn’t about the game ahead—it was about the headlines, the tweets, the messages people were sending. Every night, she lay awake replaying her mistakes, wondering how she could have done more. What if she’d pushed harder, passed differently, shot better? What if she had been more aggressive? The question haunted her like a shadow, chasing her down until she couldn’t tell where the doubt ended and she began.

The whispers were always there—people talking about her, criticizing her, claiming she wasn’t the player they thought she should be, the player she used to be. Even her own coach had joined the chorus of voices pointing out her flaws. She could feel the eyes on her during every practice, every game. Everyone was waiting for her to fall, to break under the pressure.

And sometimes, Paige felt like she might.

Azzi slowly noticed it over time. Paige had been quieter than usual during practice, a little more withdrawn in her celebrations, a little more distant. When they were on the court together, Azzi could see the way Paige was moving—slower, as if every step took more energy than the last. She was still putting in the work everyday, but it wasn’t the same. Her confidence, her usual fire, seemed dimmed. Azzi knew Paige well enough to recognize the signs.

So after a seemingly difficult practice for Paige one day, when the gym was nearly empty and the others were gathering their things, Azzi caught up with Paige. She stood in front of her, blocking her path to the locker room, her eyes soft but insistent.

"Paige," Azzi said, her voice gentle but firm. "What’s going on?"

"I’m fine Az," Paige muttered, her tone a little flat.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, especially considering her girlfriend's tone with her. She took a step closer, closing the distance between them.

"You’re not fine," she said quietly, her voice threaded with concern. "You’re putting on a mask, but you know I can see through it."

Paige hesitated for a moment, her gaze dropping to the floor as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She could feel Azzi’s eyes on her, the concern there in the way she was looking at her, but for some reason, the words felt stuck in her throat. She didn’t want to admit how bad it was lately, how much it was all eating away at her.

"I don’t know," Paige said quietly, her voice laced with frustration, a vulnerability she wasn’t used to showing. "It’s just... everything’s too much right now. The pressure. The expectations. I feel like I’m drowning, Azzi. I can’t keep up."

Azzi's heart twisted as she took a step closer, her hand reaching out to gently grasp Paige's arm. "Talk to me, baby," Azzi said softly, her voice full of warmth and care. "You know you’re not in this alone. Whatever you’re feeling, you can share it with me."

Paige let out a shaky breath, the tears she’d been holding back threatening to spill over. She could feel the walls she’d built around herself start to crack, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she wanted to let them fall. She wanted everyone to see everything—the weight of it all, the suffocating pressure she couldn’t escape. She wanted everyone to see just how bad they had made her feel. 

"I just... I don’t know how to do this anymore Az," Paige admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "No matter how hard I try, I’m never enough. The media’s on me, Geno’s on me, even our own damn fans are on me, everyone has something to say, and I feel like I’m constantly failing. If I don’t score 25, if I’m not the one carrying the team every game, it’s like I’m invisible. Like I’m not good enough."

Azzi’s gaze softened even more as she took Paige’s hands in her own, her thumbs brushing over her skin with a soothing touch. "Paige, baby" she said gently, lifting Paige’s chin to meet her eyes. "You are always more than enough. I see everything you’re doing on the court—how you’re leading, how you’re supporting your teammates. You’re making an impact in ways that go beyond just points on the board. And I know how hard you’re working. Don’t let anyone—including yourself—tell you otherwise."

The emotion in Paige’s chest bubbled up, the weight of Azzi’s words landing on her like a balm. She wanted to believe it, wanted to trust that the things her girlfriend said were true. But it was hard to let go of all the voices in her head. It was hard to not think Azzi was just being a supportive girlfriend. 

"I don’t know how to quiet my head," Paige said softly, a tear slipping down her cheek. "How do I keep going when it feels like nothing’s ever enough?"

Azzi pulled her into a gentle hug then, holding her close, her arms wrapping around Paige like a safe haven. "You don’t have to do it alone baby," Azzi murmured into her ear, her voice steady and reassuring. "I’m right here, every step of the way.”

Paige buried her face in Azzi’s shoulder, letting the tears fall freely now with no one else in the gym, no longer holding them back. She didn’t have it in here to be strong right now. She didn’t have it in her to be Uconn’s golden girl right now.

…

But then Uconn almost lost another game. Keyword being almost. 

The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in around Paige as the weight of everything pressed down on her. She had been here a few times before, locked in this dark space, trying to silence the voices in her head, but today felt different. It was harder to breathe, harder to push through.

The game had ended with a win. UConn had won by 11 points, but it wasn’t enough. It never was. Not when you were the star. Not when everyone expected perfection. Geno had praised her performance, sure, but there was always that hint of disappointment in his voice—more could have been done. More passes. More assists. Fewer contested shots because that won’t help in March.

Paige felt like she could feel the media’s eyes on her the entire game, their cameras flashing with judgment as they pounced on every flaw, no matter how small. The fans, too, had their say—complaining that she should have dropped 30 points on an unranked team, that she was being passive and deferring too much to other players. She knew they didn’t understand. They couldn’t see what was really happening on the court, the way she was trying to balance it all, the way she was doing everything she could to make her teammates shine, to get everyone involved.

But none of that mattered. Not to them.

Paige sat on the floor of the suite, back against the wall, feeling like she was shrinking into herself. She knew better than to get sucked into social media. Azzi had told her, warned her to delete it all, to stop looking at the constant stream of opinions from strangers. But here she was, scrolling through her feed, eyes filling with tears as she read each comment, each demand for more, as if she wasn’t already giving everything she had even if it was slowly killing her. 

She let out a shaky breath, biting down on her lip, trying to hold the tears at bay. But it wasn’t enough. The pressure kept building, the anxiety squeezing around her chest, making it harder to breathe. Paige put her phone down with trembling hands, the weight of it all sinking in, her head pounding with the noise in her mind.

Unable to stop herself, she softly banged the back of her head against the wall a few times, willing the thoughts to stop swirling. 

Why wasn’t it enough? Why couldn’t she just be allowed to have a good game, a solid performance, without the world tearing it apart? Why did every win feel like a loss when the criticism outweighed the praise? 

The tears finally came then, falling freely down her face as she sat there, trying to get a grip on her spiraling thoughts. The walls felt like they were slowly closing in, and she couldn’t stop the fear that was creeping into her chest. The fear that no matter how hard she tried, she would never be enough. That one day, the pressure would break her. That she would fall off the face of the Earth and everything for everyone else would keep spinning. 

She hated feeling weak, hated how powerless she felt in this moment. Not being in control. But she just tried to hold onto the thought of Azzi still in her mind, a small thread of comfort in the chaos. Azzi would understand. Azzi always did.

The room felt so empty without her. The silence was suffocating, the isolation almost too much to bear. Each breath Paige tried to take felt shallow, and the harder she focused on her breathing, the more it seemed to slip away. The more difficult it became. Panic was creeping in, like a hand pressing down on her chest, squeezing the air out of her lungs.

She could physically feel all of it—the weight of the expectations, the constant pressure to be perfect. Each thought, each criticism, each word from the media felt like it was wrapping itself around her throat, making it harder to breathe.

She knew she should call Azzi, to try to force some words out so her girlfriend knew how much she needed her. But her phone lay discarded beside her and Paige couldn’t bring herself to look at it. She knew the messages, the comments, that she would unlock her phone to would only make it worse. Her head was spinning, and she couldn’t stop it. Every time she tried to focus her thoughts, to breathe deeply, to imagine Azzi the panic only tightened its grip.

Then the door clicked open, pulling her back from the edge for just a moment. Paige’s heart tried to catch up knowing who it was, but the breath still wouldn’t come.

Azzi froze when she saw Paige, sitting on the floor, her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking. It only took a second for Azzi to drop her bag and throw her phone on the bed before rushing over. She didn’t hesitate, kneeling in front of Paige, taking her face in her hands. Paige couldn’t look at her, her breathing coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

"Paige," Azzi’s voice was gentle, but firm. "Look at me."

But Paige couldn’t. She was shaking, struggling, trapped in the chaos of her mind. Azzi saw it instantly—this wasn’t just sadness this time. This was another panic attack.

"Hey, hey, listen to me," Azzi said softly, her fingers brushing along Paige’s cheek, trying to steady her. "Breathe, baby. You’re okay."

Azzi’s own breaths were deep, slow, as she began to count, trying to guide Paige through the chaos. "In... one, two, three..." she counted, her voice low but steady. "Exhale... one, two, three..."

Paige’s chest heaved, her breaths sharp and ragged. She tried to focus on Azzi’s voice, but everything felt distant, blurry and out of reach.

"Come on, breathe with me," Azzi whispered, gently urging her. "In... one, two, three..." She let the air out slowly, counting as she did. "Exhale... one, two, three."

Paige’s body trembled, and Azzi could feel the weight of her distress, her panic. But she kept her voice calm, breaking each sentence into short, steady breaths.

"You’re safe," Azzi said, her thumb gently tracing over Paige’s skin. "I’m here. Breathe with me baby."

Paige’s breaths came in short, gasping bursts, still out of rhythm. She tried to follow Azzi’s lead, but each time she focused on her breath, it slipped further away.

"In... two, three," Azzi counted, her voice never wavering. "Exhale... two, three. You’re okay. I love you. I’m here."

Paige’s hands shook as she clutched at her chest, fighting for air. "I can’t... Azzi..." she gasped, her voice barely audible. She was drowning in the overwhelming pressure, feeling like she was finally losing the battle.

"You can," Azzi whispered, her own breath deepening as she counted. "In... one, two, three... Exhale... one, two, three." She leaned closer, her forehead gently resting against Paige’s. "Focus on me. You’re doing great. In, out. In, out."

The air in the room seemed to thicken, but slowly, Paige’s breathing began to soften. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. The frantic gasps slowed, her chest rising and falling with each breath, steadier now.

Azzi didn’t stop. She kept her hand on Paige’s face, gently coaxing her. "You’re so amazing, baby. You’re so strong. You’re so perfect."

Each breath they took together was a small step, and with every inhale, Paige felt the panic loosen its grip, just a little. Her hands stopped shaking as much, her body less rigid. Azzi’s voice was still steady, counting each breath, reassuring her.

"Good," Azzi said, her voice soft but filled with warmth. "That’s it. You’re okay now. Just breathe with me."

Paige’s breath was slower now, the panic starting to fade, replaced with exhaustion. She looked up at Azzi, her eyes filled with gratitude, but there was still a trace of vulnerability in her gaze.

Azzi smiled softly, her thumb brushing across Paige’s cheek. "I’m here," she whispered again, as though to remind Paige that she wasn’t alone. "I promise you’re never alone."

The storm hadn’t completely passed, but in that moment, with Azzi’s arms around her and her steady presence grounding her, Paige felt like she could breathe again.

After a few minutes of quiet, Azzi didn’t speak. She simply stood up and took Paige’s hand, gently guiding her towards the bathroom. Paige let herself be led, her body feeling light but exhausted, her mind still clouded and heavy. She felt empty, drained, but Azzi was there—her steady hand, her calm presence, like a lifeline in the chaos.

Azzi helped Paige undress. Paige didn’t protest, too worn out to resist, too overwhelmed to think about anything beyond the comfort Azzi was offering. When Azzi took off her own clothes and stepped into the shower with Paige, there was no rush, no urgency, just a quiet understanding between them as they sat in silence for a little bit.

Azzi began undoing Paige’s two braids softly as she kissed her girlfriends cheek or neck now and then. She then reached for the shampoo, squeezing a generous amount into her palm before gently massaging it into Paige’s wet hair. The warm water cascaded down over them, mingling with the steam, but all Paige could focus on was the soothing pressure of Azzi’s fingers against her scalp. Slowly, the tension in her body began to melt away. She leaned into Azzi, letting her eyes close as she rested her head on her shoulders, the simple act of being cared for grounding her even further.

Azzi didn’t say anything, her hands working methodically, rinsing the shampoo from Paige’s hair before applying conditioner. The quiet was comforting, the sound of water and Azzi’s soft hum in Paige’s ear were the only things filling the space.

When Azzi finished rinsing the conditioner out of her hair, Paige finally opened her eyes, meeting Azzi’s gaze. Azzi’s eyes softened, filled with a tenderness Paige couldn’t quite put into words. Her love for Paige was clear in the way she looked at her—gentle, unwavering, and so full of admiration.

Paige’s throat tightened, but she whispered, “Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse, but full of gratitude.

Azzi smiled, her thumb lightly grazing Paige’s cheek as she leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “You don’t have to thank me, baby. I told you, no matter what, I’m always in your corner and I’m going to help you get through this.” 

The words settled into Paige’s chest. She wasn’t alone. Azzi was there, always there.

Without thinking, Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi, pulling her close. The water hit them both, but neither of them cared. They stood there, their bodies pressed together, holding each other in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

…

Steam lingered in the air as Paige stepped out of the bathroom dressed in a hoodie and sweats, her damp hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders. The soft shuffle of Azzi’s movements drew her attention to the bed, where Azzi had just sat cross-legged, a comb in one hand and two hair ties in the other.

"Come here," Azzi said softly, patting the space in front of her.

Paige raised an eyebrow, but the gentle look in Azzi’s eyes pulled her forward. She settled on the floor, her back to Azzi, who immediately began threading her fingers through Paige’s damp hair.

For a while, the room was quiet except for the faint sound of the comb gliding through Paige’s hair. Azzi broke the silence, her voice gentle. "You wanna tell me what’s been on your mind tonight?"

Paige was silent, staring at her hands clasped in her lap. She bit her bottom lip, her mind racing as she tried to find the words. "I just... I don’t know what people want from me anymore," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi paused briefly, her hands stilling before resuming their steady rhythm. "What do you mean?"

"It’s like..." Paige hesitated, trying to find the words. "It’s not about basketball anymore. Every game, every move—it’s a story for someone else to tell. I can’t stop thinking about what people are gonna say after every game, and it’s exhausting."

Azzi hummed softly as she began parting Paige’s hair for the braids. "Do you think about that while you’re playing?"

Paige nodded, her voice small. "Sometimes. It’s like... the game isn’t just the game anymore. There’s so much pressure to live up to everyone’s expectations, and it makes it hard to just... enjoy it. To be in the moment."

Azzi gently tugged one section of hair, starting the first braid. "Paige, baby, you’ve been playing basketball your whole life. You didn’t fall in love with it because of what other people thought. You fell in love with it because it made you happy.”

"I know," Paige said, her voice wavering slightly. "But it’s hard not to care when there’s so many expectations. It’s like... no matter what I do, it’s never enough for me to just get one day of silence. And I just don’t want to let anyone down."

Azzi’s hands worked steadily as she braided, her voice calm but firm. "You can’t control what people think or say, no matter how hard you try so we gotta let that part go. But you can control remembering why you play. You don’t owe anyone anything, Paige—not the fans, not the critics, not even me baby. You play this game for you and only you. 

Paige was quiet for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweats. "It’s just hard to block it all out sometimes."

"I know it is," Azzi said softly, tying off the first braid and starting on the second. "But you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. You’ve handled so much already, you’ve been through so much already and you’re still here, still fighting. That’s what matters."

Paige glanced over her shoulder, a small smile breaking through her thoughtful expression. "When did you get so wise?"

Azzi grinned, focused on finishing the second braid. "I’ve always been this wise. You’re just quiet enough for the first time to actually pay attention."

Paige chuckled, leaning into Azzi’s touch as she tied off the braid. Azzi ran her fingers over the finished work, smoothing down stray hairs before giving Paige’s shoulder a light squeeze.

"There," Azzi said, standing up and heading to the corner of the room to grab her basketball shoes. "Now, let’s go."

Paige blinked, looking at her with clear confusion on her face. "What? Go where?"

"The gym," Azzi said matter-of-factly, sliding her feet into some slides

Paige stared at her in disbelief. "Az, we just played an entire game and just got out of the shower. You’re crazy." 

Azzi smirked, tossing Paige’s shoes onto the floor beside her. "Come on, Superstar. I’m not asking."

Paige groaned, flopping back onto the carpet. "I picked a crazy person to be my girlfriend," she muttered, though a small grin tugged at her lips.

Azzi stepped closer, brushing a playful kiss against Paige’s temple. "Definitely, thought that was in the fine print though."

With a dramatic sigh, Paige sat up, slipping on her shoes and tying them lazily. "You’re lucky you’re cute," she grumbled as she followed Azzi out the door to her car. 

…

The gym was eerily quiet, the faint hum of the overhead lights the only sound as Paige and Azzi switched into their basketball shoes. Paige stood near the baseline, watching Azzi lace up her sneakers with an amused expression.

Azzi grabbed a basketball from the rack, dribbling it once before tossing it to Paige. "Check."

Paige caught the ball, raising an eyebrow at Azzi. "What are we doing?"

Azzi, already standing at the three point line, grinned. "We’re playing one-on-one."

Paige scoffed, spinning the ball lazily in her hands. "No, we’re not."

Azzi tilted her head, feigning innocence. "What, scared you’ll lose?"

Paige rolled her eyes, her competitive spirit sparking lightly at Azzi’s accusation. "First of all, I don’t lose one-on-one. Second, I definitely wouldn’t lose to my girlfriend."

Azzi smirked. "Then prove it. Play me. Otherwise I’ll just tell everyone you were scared."

Paige muttered something incoherent under her breath before lazily checking the ball back to Azzi.

Azzi immediately took advantage of Paige’s relaxed posture, going into a quick jumper from behind the arc. The ball arching beautifully through the air and swishing through the net.

"2-0," Azzi announced, her smirk widening.

Paige groaned, grabbing the ball. "Alright, that’s real cute."

When Paige checked the ball this time, she pressed a hand firmly against Azzi’s hip, cutting off her space. Azzi tried to drive left, but Paige stuck with her, their bodies brushing as they collided. Azzi pivoted, stepping back into a mid-range jumper that kissed the front of the rim before bouncing in.

"3-0," Azzi teased, grinning. "You’re looking a little slow tonight, P. You tired?"

"Yeah?" Paige’s voice dripped with mock sweetness as she checked the ball again. Azzi tried to hit another step back but it bounded off the rim. 

They checked the ball and Paige jab-stepped to her left, forcing Azzi to shift her weight, then crossed over and exploded to the basket with a quick step. Azzi stayed close, but Paige used her body to shield the ball, finishing with a layup off the glass. 

"3-1," Paige said, flashing a smug grin.

Azzi grabbed the ball, her competitive spirit ignited even though this was supposed to be about Paige. As they continued to play, their movements grew sharper and more physical. Paige backed Azzi down on one possession, bumping her with her shoulder before spinning for a fadeaway jumper. Azzi countered by cutting through the lane with a quick first step, using her speed to slip past Paige for an easy floater.

The teasing never stopped.

"Didn’t know I signed up for wrestling practice," Azzi quipped after Paige body-checked her on a drive.

"Yeah yeah," Paige shot back. "You’re not getting past me again."

Azzi grinned. "Oh, I’m passing you right now." She immediately drove left, brushing past Paige’s hip as she hooked her slightly and finishing with a reverse layup that left Paige shaking her head.

The game became more intense with each possession. Azzi swatted one of Paige’s layup attempts, the ball flying out of bounds. Paige groaned.

"You’ve never done that in your life" Paige said, narrowing her eyes as she retrieved the ball.

"First time for everything," Azzi replied, standing tall and grinning.

Paige responded by hitting a deep three-pointer, holding her follow-through for much longer than necessary as the ball sailed through the hoop. "9-8," Paige said, her smirk confident.

On the next possession, she used a quick hesitation move to fake Azzi out of position, draining another jumper.

As the score climbed, so did the tension. The gym felt warmer, their breaths coming faster, their earlier shower completely undone by the sweat dripping down their faces. Every drive and every block brought them closer, their bodies brushing and colliding in ways that blurred the lines between competition and something more.

At one point, Azzi’s hand lingered on Paige’s waist as she pivoted for a shot, and Paige didn’t pull away. Instead, she smirked, leaning in slightly as she jab-stepped.

"You getting distracted on me?" Paige teased, her voice low.

" Nope," Azzi fired back, though her flushed cheeks suggested otherwise.

Eventually they were tied at 17, both breathing heavily as they sized each other up. Paige had the ball tucked against her hip, her gaze locked on Azzi.

"What do I get when I win?" Paige asked, her tone playful but laced with a hint of something more.

Azzi’s eyes narrowed, her lips curving into a smile. "You’re not going to win."

Paige chuckled, her confidence unshaken. "Guess we’ll see."

She dribbled slowly, luring Azzi to sleep on defense before hitting her with a fast combo move before she drove hard to the basket, finishing with a finger roll that danced around the rim before dropping in.

"18-17," Paige said, smirking as she checked the ball. "Told you, I don’t lose."

It was Azzi’s ball again and once she caught the ball back from Paige, she stepped back, shooting a quick three-pointer that hit nothing but the bottom of the net.

"19-18," Azzi said, mimicking Paige’s earlier tone. She smirked, stepping closer. "What am I getting when I win?"

Paige grinned, walking up to Azzi until they were nearly nose to nose. “A little something to remind you how giving I can be.”

Azzi shook her head, laughing. "You’re full of it."

The game continued, both of them refusing to give an inch to the other but finally Paige ended it with a three that rattled in after she hit Azzi with a hesi pullup. 

"That’s game," Paige said, her voice triumphant as she grabbed her water bottle.

Azzi was smiling as she sipped from her own bottle, her grin unusually big. Paige noticed and raised an eyebrow. "You do know you just lost, right?"

Azzi kept smiling, stepping closer until they were chest to chest. "Yeah," she said softly. "But you weren’t thinking about anything else besides this game, were you?"

Paige blinked, her grin softening as realization hit her. For the first time in a while, she hadn’t been consumed by the weight of everyone’s expectations and opinions of how she was playing. She’d just been... playing.

"Huh," Paige said, her voice quieter. "I guess not."

Azzi smirked, leaning in close, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "See? I told you I’d help."

Paige leaned in, her lips brushing against Azzi’s, but before she could close the gap, Azzi stepped back with a mischievous grin.

"Nah," Azzi said, grabbing her water bottle and bag. "I’m a sore loser. You don’t get a kiss after beating me."

Paige laughed. "The winner’s supposed to get something."

Azzi tilted her head, her voice dipping into a sultry tone. "Oh? Is that what you want from me baby?"

Paige nodded, her smile growing as she stepped closer, but Azzi turned on her heel, heading for the door.

"You gotta work for it," Azzi called over her shoulder, her voice dripping with playful challenge as she walked away.

Paige stood there, dumbfounded, watching her girlfriend’s retreating figure. Despite everything she’d been feeling earlier, all the negativity and doubt, Azzi had completely unraveled it and left nothing but the Paige who loved to play basketball more than anything.

"Wait!" Paige called after her, grinning. "So, I’m really not getting any tonight?"

Azzi turned, walking backward as her smirk deepened. "Maybe," she teased, her eyes gleaming. "But like I said you gotta work for it P."

Paige chuckled, shaking her head as she jogged after her, a lightness settling in her chest. She couldn’t stop the grin spreading across her face, her eyes fixed on Azzi.

"Thank the gods," Paige muttered under her breath, her voice laced with a mix of humor and adoration, "and every single heaven above for Azzi Fudd."

The thought made her laugh softly to herself as she caught up, ready to follow wherever Azzi led her next.

[mattybsgroupie]

i’m still obsessed with that clip from the stream where it looks like chris is jerking off on camera 🤭🤭🤭🤭

i was obsessed with that clip for DAYS omg😭 this is silly but that’s what i would do to him

chris had been squirming around for hours, matt wouldn’t turn the stream off and you kept teasing him through messages.

“you look so handsome like this” you texted him, his cheeks flushing slightly at the praise. “i wish i was there so i could get under the table and suck you off” you said and kept watching his reaction through the screen. chris bit his lower lip, adjusting himself on the chair and coughing, trying to distract himself from the tent on his pants.

“please stop teasing” he texted quickly, locking the phone screen and chatting with matt, talking about something you honestly didn’t care. “you better fucking behave chris” you sent back, and he coughed again. he loved when you were mean and ordered him around.

“how long have you been hard?” you texted and he let out a long sigh. “touch yourself”

“im not doing that on stream” he said as you watched. it was like he could feel your eyes on him, watching each and every move he made. chris couldn’t follow the comments appearing on the screen, but he decided to make good use of that.

“my hands are so fucking cold, chat” he said out loud and you let out a chuckle. you knew his hands were resting right above his covered cock, stroking himself. he didn’t ask for permission, but you noticed when he removed his cock from his pants. he sighed and stretched his back, trying to play it off. “really, im freezing here”

he did it so well. no one would even notice that his knuckles were wrapped around his aching cock, slowly pumping his own shaft. chris could stay like that for the entire night.

but after a while, it became too much. he had already been hard for hours, and your texts weren't helping him at all. “close?” you texted and he nodded to the camera. “yeah? gonna cum for me?”

“sorry chat, i gotta warm my hands” chris said, the flush on his cheeks contradicting his words. he brought his chest close to his legs to make sure no one could see what he was about to do. chris tightened the grip on his cock and started mindlessly pumping his length with the excuse he was warming his hands. he let out a loud groan as he came, but everyone thought it was just a silly reaction from whatever him and matt were supposed to be watching.

he stood like that for a while as you spammed his phone with texts “are you serious?” “chris you just came on stream?” “thats so fucking pathetic” “such a desperate, needy boy”.

he couldn't help but chuckle at the messages, realizing the mess he had made. “matt, can you turn my camera off for a second? it's too cold, i'm gonna change clothes”

[nobody-nexus]

EP 5 Prediction/Theory

Just wanted to make this idea public cause I think it's cool, but I could be 100% wrong on it. It IS just a theory after all

So, I was thinking about how it's most likely that the stadium we got teased with in the season announcement is probably Ragatha's episode. Especially now since we know she at least knows how to play it and probably enjoys the sport as well

But then that got me to thinking about what Gooseworx said in terms of shadow Ragatha. Well, the two things. "This attachment to Ragatha is going to be EP 5 a lot funnier" and the "No one has correctly guessed shadow Ragatha". So, here's me rolling the dice at this prediction:

So. Baseball is a team sport. I'm sure everyone knows this. Of course, Ragatha being all about codependency, she would like to play this sport. But there's always two teams. ESPECIALLY if it's in a stadium. Because that means it's the bigger leagues. So... What if the opposite team are the shadow characters?

Like the ones from EP 2

Caine has already shown that he has access to the player models with both the EP 3 mounted heads as well as the outfits from EP 4 fitting perfectly (And let's be honest: The VHS tape Gangle most likely is NOT Gangle). so modified player models are already something that Caine can clearly do

Plus, this wouldn't contradict another thing Gooseworx said about no more major NPCs being shown. Because it's not an NPC because they're not completely new characters. They're just clones of the OG characters. And for extra benefit- I'd think that they'd be the worst parts of the characters but exaggerated and harmful

Why this?

Because if this is true, I wish for shadow Ragatha to be every flaw that Ragatha is. Her hidden thoughts and feelings, her need for companionship, and her nasty temper. Ragatha clearly doesn't like her own flaws- only being (impulsively) honest when LITERALLY HIGH OFF HER ASS- so of course this would get under her skin

I think the best way to have that work too is if the torment is emotional. The shadow team does better than the OGs, and Ragatha gets more frustrated with everyone else for not listening to her, when in reality she's her own downfall. I don't wish for a scene where she blows up at her ACTUAL friends... But maybe at the shadows instead

She manages to be alone with them and she just- lets her anger out on them. Pinning THEM as the reason they're losing. But instead... The shadows begin to berate her. Dig into HER own insecurities and troubles and maybe even trauma, shadow Ragatha being the main person to do it

I dunno how it would get resolved, but yeah :D Just a lil food for thought

[primrosebow]

Do you draw or write for the girls? Because I would love seeing any type of Lute, Charlie or Vaggie art in your style

Also I would eat your art 20/10

Short answer: yahhh xoxo💞

Long answer:

_-->Various hazbin hotel women x reader // art

//

!Content warnings!:the usual nsfw, this has the gals listed in the ask🫡 a few headcannons added for flavor, gn reader cause I never specified literally anything, more words than usual.

We are SO BACK 💪💪💪 request things ‼️ My activities would get me perma banned from the vatican, I'm afraid.

Charlie //

I, unlike most other people here, believe that charlie most often tries to take the role of a dom! She's used to trying to fix everyone else's problems, but, she'll crumble if she ever gets treated like the perfect princess that she is. Call her beautiful, praise her, give her that affection she desperately needs. She's been helping her citizens for so long, she deserves to get taken care of!

Honestly, when you slowly push that vibrator inside her after what felt like an agonizing ammount of time for prepping, she was ready to cry on the spot. She can barely believe you even talked her into being in the receiving end of this -she's the one supposed to be pleasing you!- Getting this much attention and love made her brain go all fuzzy and tears well up in her eyes as her limbs felt weak; she was trembling far too much from the overwhelming pleasure she felt right then to truly care about what this whole situation did to her ego.

She doesn't realize her horns have made an appearence as she pleads with you: come on! You were giving her so much attention just a minute ago! Please! Being as close to you as possible is her only wish right now. Her pitiful tone and cries for you directly contradict how her tail is shaking at it's tip, much like that of an excited cat -she's enjoying this far more than she expected-.

If you do decide to give in and finally rub on her already overstimulated clit just as you had been doing before, she'll cling onto you for dear life- practically sobbing as you give her precisely what she needs. Maybe she can get used to being treated nicely by you. (She learns that she cannot get enough of the overwhelming passionate act of letting you be in control, it's far too good for her to only experience it once.

She'll soon get a little cocky though... she isn't the daughter of the king of pride just because of her name, if you catch what I'm throwing)

// //

Vaggie //

Vaggie has placed quite a notorious quantity of expectations on herself. She's always been this way, and, continues to be despite your affirmations of her worth. Your constant and relentless words of praise to her: how beautiful she is, how strong, how perfect, how brave, how hot- it all got to her head very quickly. Your words contradicted her thoughts on herself but the way you kiss along her neck makes any thought melt away from her brain and be replaced with pure emotion.

// //

"Mh.. please, darling- I-" she tried to form a sentence, eventually getting cut off by her own moans. Her nightgown was pushed up as she laid with her back against your bed, squirming slightly as she feels your fingers rub against her insides. She clenches around you as you drag your thumb over her swolen clit, which was begging for your attention since the very start of this. Her hips stutter as she can't pick between indulging the stimulation and running away from the pleasure.

Her eyes struggle to keep themselves open, but you had told her to look at you during this. She couldn't let you down. Not when you were saying she was "doing so good f'me". Those are some of the few words that can pierce through the thick veil of the ecstasy-like feeling of your attention and carve themselves into her very soul. She was good. Good for you. She couldn't ask for anything better, and, won't- can't be letting you down.

You.. leave her easy tasks such as looking at you and being a little quieter just so she feels like she's still, in some way, being useful to you. Slow and steady wins the race, and, soon enough you hope to remove the constant anxiety of servicing you from the act of love you want to give her.

Lute //

Lute is quite interesting because she has this weird duality between wanting approval and not being able to take said approval. Sometimes, she'll activelly attempt to rile you up enough that you'll punish her (something you have already told her is not necessary, since you can be harsher on her if she simply asks) but please don't blame her! She's just used to being treated roughly, it's "safer" for her to stay in her comfort zone of thorns and cruel words at first.

But only at first. Like I said, she really does want to feel loved. One of the first times you attempted to give her the affection she craves, after having learned that she can't deal with the purely lovey, sappy affection yet, you had to get resourceful with bringing her the love she needs.

"Awh sweetheart, you can't handle this?" You dig your fingers even deeper into her, a squelching noise arises from the action because of just how wet she already is. She groans at your words, and, if you didn't know any better, she'd have sounded like any other cheap sinner from lust with how aroused she was at your teasing. But you do know better. Your comment- it was slightly mocking, it was maddening; it was a challenge. For her to keep her composure for as long as she can. Lute grabs onto you even harder so she can regain some sense of stability, finally locking eyes with you. She moves her hips slightly against your fingers. Despite it being her own action, she groans. She says in a shaky tone

"Do your worst."

Ah, you can't deny such a request, now, can you?

// //

BONUSSSSSSSSS‼️

Velvette //

"Agh- fuck you! H-ah-" she tried to act mad, don't get her wrong. She really did. But that's astoundingly hard to do when your lover has their hand in your panties and is currently relentlessly and harshly rubbing against your clit like it was the last thing they'll ever touch.

You really could not have picked a worse time to do this; right before one of her new collection showcases? Did you want her to die? You forcefully push her thighs apart when she pressed them toguether, not letting her even attempt to get back a semblance of composure. As if that wasn't enough, you had locked her bracelets toguether behind her back, and, even if she wouldn't admit it to a single soul, it really turned her on.

She tried to think as hard as she could, try to offend you, try to play her own pleasure down, but she really couldn't. Empty remarks about your incompetence or appearence or literally anything she could get her mind around slowly melted away into moans and whines, the much too familiar shame from getting overwhelmed so easily by you also pushed aside by a desperate search for her own release.

When she finally did cum, she doesn't hold back on how loud her moan of your name was, her thighs trembled as she leaned on your body for support. She intentionally turns her head away from the mirror so she won't be faced by her own overstimulated self, and much less your self-satisfied grin as you watch her panting against you.

Oh gods... what was she doing again? Hmm.. OH YOU BASTARD YOU RUINED HER PANTIES! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW EXPENSIVE THAT FABRIC WAS? FUCK YOU.

Let's just hope that the fashion gossip blogs don't catch onto how uncharacteristically out of breath she was during that showcase!

I love piracy so much RAHHHHHH‼️‼️ if buying ain't ownin, piracy ain't stealin, but I wish it were. IMAGINE‼️ you download idk ratatouille and they just don't have it anymore. "Guys they took ratatouille again..." I wish. I wish watching media through torrent sites was like taking various items from ikea.

I WOULD download a car.

@bigfatbimbo cause of the little bonus of velvette

[ghoulfriends-and-tin-cans]

Howdy Partner - Part 1

I...yep. This fic finally broke out of the cage in my brain and found its way into the world. Careful. It bites.

If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know!

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Pre-War!Cooper Howard (Fallout Show) x fem!Reader

[A/N: This is just fluff with some suggestive language, because as sinfully hot as he is as a Ghoul, he looks like an absolute cinnamon roll as an actor.]

Warnings: Fluff, mild angst, mutual pining, idiots in love, they both think their feelings are unrequited, Cooper is already divorced, flirty friends to lovers, they both wanna kiss so bad, drinking but not heavy, mentions of alcohol, they're not tipsy but they have had a couple of glasses of champagne.

~*~

"Cut! That's a wrap for this week," the director called, and everyone on set began to disperse. Beginning to corral the various props so they could be stored until Monday, I breathed a sigh of relief that the week was over. Halfway through winding up one of the ropes, someone cleared their throat behind me.

"Pardon me, ma'am. Any chance an ole cowboy could int'rest you in a celebratory drink?" The faux western accent drew a smile across my lips before I could school my expression. When I turned, Cooper Howard stood in full costume with his cowboy hat held respectfully over his chest. Always such a gentleman.

"Surely there's some gorgeous starlet who you'd rather be drinking with, Mr. Howard," I teased as I laid the looped rope onto its hook. Clasping my hands behind my back, I blinked innocently up at the man who'd been my friend for years and had quickly carved a spot for himself in my heart.

"Now, why would I want to take another woman out on the town when the most gorgeous one in all of Hollywood is standin' right in front of me?" He murmured, and despite the pang it sent through my heart, I gave a sly smile as I grasped his arm.

"One of these days, Coop, you'll regret being so flirty with me," I said as he plunked his hat on top of my head instead of his own. I couldn't imagine it looked as good on me as it did on him.

"Oh? And why's that?"

"Because, one of these days, the woman destined to be your next wife might overhear you, think you're taken, and give up before she's even met you." We walked toward his trailer, dodging busy workers as we talked. "Or worse...I might actually think you mean those sweet little things you say to me."

Keeping my head forward as we walked, I caught him looking at me out of the corner of my eye, his expression inscrutable.

"Wouldn't that just be a shame," he muttered, but his tone contradicted his statement entirely. A large grin stretched Cooper's lips as we stepped inside his trailer. I knew the drill by now. We left the door open, and I took a seat as he ducked behind a privacy screen at the other end. His accent fell away as he changed out of his costume. "That hat's yours now, by the way."

For a moment, all I could hear was the gentle sound of cloth as I tried to force my tongue to work.

"What?"

"They had about ten of those hats for this movie, and I snagged a couple. One for me, and one for you. That one's yours," he called, and butterflies swarmed in my stomach. "Assuming you want an old actor's hand-me-down, of course. You could always just leave it in my trailer today when we go for drinks and the costume people will find it. I just remember you saying you liked the way the one from this particular movie looked, so I figured..."

He trailed off as he walked out from behind the privacy screen in a white button-down shirt and some dark brown slacks. My breath hitched in my throat, but I shook my head quietly.

"No, I do love it. I'm not leaving it here," I said as I got to my feet. "Thank you, Cooper."

Pink dusted his cheeks, and I couldn't help but wonder how I got this lucky. He didn't feel the same as I did, but it was enough that he considered me one of his close friends. Or, at least, that's what I told myself on those lonely evenings when I wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms.

I'd been lost in thought for a moment, snapping back to reality when he waved a hand in front of my eyes.

"You in there?" He asked, a mix of amusement and concern coloring his features as I blinked up at him. "You looked like you were a thousand miles away."

"Only about fifteen," I muttered, and before he could ask what I meant, I plastered what I hoped was an enthusiastic smile on my lips. "Well, what are we waiting for? You wanted a celebratory drink, so let's go get it, shall we?"

Cooper had known me for too long to be fooled by that. Like always, I could see his jaw clench for a second as he tucked the information away in the back of his mind for later, then smiled back at me.

"Lead on, ma'am." His faux western accent was back, and he gave me a little wink as I slipped past him out of his trailer.

--

I'd expected to find myself in a bar with him, but Coop had different plans. He'd driven me to his place - a much smaller house than the one he'd previously shared with his daughter and his ex-wife. He'd downsized after the divorce, choosing a more rustic place that was closer to nature than his cushy almost-mansion had been. Modern conveniences were still present, but he was no longer surrounded by the stifling side of city life.

Kicking our shoes off and wandering out onto the upstairs balcony, we raised our champagne flutes and toasted the success of the new movie. I tried not to watch the bob of his Adam's apple too closely as he swallowed.

Looking out at the dark expanse of the night and the bright lights of the city several hours later, we'd barely finished more than a couple of glasses each. It was so incredibly easy with him. We'd talked the whole evening away, focusing on everything and nothing, paying no mind to the fact that the world kept spinning without us.

Eventually, a cold breeze whirled through the air, and we retreated inside. Cooper grabbed an oversized blanket and we cuddled up together in his living room in front of the fireplace. Setting the hat he'd given me on the coffee table, he wrapped his arms around me and let me rest my head on his chest.

This wasn't the first time we'd curled up like this, but it felt more weighted this time. His chin touched the top of my head just as I noted how fast his heart was beating.

Adrenaline. That's all it was. We'd both been startled by how quickly the temperature had dropped. There was no way it could be anything else.

"It looks better on you," he murmured against the top of my head, and my own heart thudded faster in my chest. "The hat, I mean."

A huff of laughter escaped me.

"Somehow, I think your fans might disagree, Mr. Howard. Hell, even I disagree," I admitted as I toyed with one of the buttons on his shirt.

"That's too bad. All of you are wrong. You look so damn good in it," Cooper said as one of his hands skimmed up my back. He sounded more serious than any of his other silly little flirtatious statements ever had - a feat I hadn't thought possible. I could never tell if he was joking when we were alone like this.

"Careful, now. I might end up thinking you're serious–"

"I am," he blurted as his grip around me tightened by a fraction. "I'm serious."

When I lifted my head to look up at him, Cooper was already looking at me; his gaze was soft and vulnerable as he lifted a hand. The backs of his knuckles brushed down the side of my face so gently that the breath was stolen from my lungs.

"Cooper..." I tried to tell him what I was feeling - tried to force all of the words I'd been holding back to the tip of my tongue - but they got stuck somewhere in my throat.

"It's okay," he breathed, his voice was low and rough as he spoke. "You don't have to say anything. I know this probably isn't... I'm divorced, older, and I have a kid. I'm not under any delusions about how undesirable my situation is, but I just wanted to say it once...before I lost my nerve."

I must've fallen asleep. I was dreaming, I had to be.

"I don't expect you to feel the same. You're so beautiful, so kind...you must have men beating down your door for a chance to be with you, and you're stuck here drinking with a washed up old man," he murmured, guilt winding around every word. "When I drive you home in the morning...if it would make you more comfortable, we can forget I ever said anything...blame it on the champagne."

Alarm rocketed through me. I didn't want that. I didn't want to forget. I didn't want to blame it on the alcohol.

Dream or not, I just wanted Cooper.

Leaning upward, I took a chance and pressed my lips against his. They'd always looked soft. I never thought I'd get the chance to find out what they felt like on anything but the back of my hand.

When he kissed me back, I'd never been so glad to be wrong.

Giving in to my desires, I braced one hand on his chest and buried the other in his soft, dark hair. He grabbed the back of my neck, pulling me closer as we drowned in each other.

When we finally broke apart, Cooper nuzzled my nose drawing a breathless, joyful giggle from some dazed part of my mind.

"Stay with me tonight," he whispered, and I nodded my head.

"I did assume I would be when you stated that you'd be driving me home in the morning," I teased, and he gave me a gorgeous smile, his eyes twinkling in the low light.

"Beautiful smart-ass. I meant...stay in my room with me. Not the guest room," he murmured even as his gaze dropped to my lips again. "I promise I'll be good - keep my hands to myself."

"You don't have to." The words whispered against his lips prompted a hungry hum from his throat, but he shook his head.

"I want to wine and dine you first. You deserve that...deserve to be treated like a princess," he said, "that way, when the time comes, and I finally have you all to myself, you'll know how much you mean to me."

A desperate whimper escaped me, and he smirked like the cat that got the canary.

"Now, can you be a good, patient girl for me tonight, sweetheart?"

I agreed, muttering under my breath that he was a damn tease, but my protests were silenced by the look Cooper gave me as he led me to his bedroom. Longing looked good on him.

~*~

Taglist:

@live-logs-and-proper

[haza8877]

Where will this decision lead you?

Hello everyone!🤗 How have you been these past few days? I'm back with a new pick a pile reading. I hope this reading can offer you some insight or guidance. But remember, the cards don’t make decisions for you or guarantee any outcomes—everything is relative and for reference only. Enjoy and have fun with this pick a pile reading!❤️🙏🏻

Pile 1 -> Pile 2 -> Pile 3

Pile 1

(The sun, The hierophant, 10 of wands / Oracle card - Saturn)

For pile 1, I sense a very serious energy surrounding this decision. This is undoubtedly an important choice for you, in every sense of the word. I feel that this decision not only impacts you personally but also carries significance in terms of reputation and tradition. It seems like some of you may be choosing to carry on a family or cultural tradition (perhaps continuing a family business or a local craft). For others, it feels like you have just completed an important phase of your journey and are now looking to level up (such as pursuing a master’s degree or advancing your expertise in a specialized field). Regardless of your specific situation, this is a decision of great importance and long-term impact.

I sense that this choice carries both a deep sense of pride and significant pressure, and you may already be aware of that. The pressure comes from discipline and structure. With The Hierophant and the Saturn oracle card appearing in this reading, both emphasize tradition, stability, discipline, and structure. Meanwhile, 10 of Wands highlights the burden and responsibilities you will face when choosing this path. I won’t say whether this decision is right or wrong because I don’t know your exact circumstances. However, what I can feel is that this choice will demand serious dedication and discipline. There will be many challenges and pressures, but if you fully commit, these challenges will only make you stronger and more resilient.

Overall, pile 1 reminds me of a saying:

"If you want to sit where no one else can, you have to endure what no one else will."

Pile 2

(8 of swords, 9 of wands, 9 of cups, The chariot/ Oracle card - Aries)

I feel that the direction of your choice is not entirely clear in this reading, so I won’t specify what kind of decision this is or what area it relates to. However, what I do sense is hesitation—you're hesitating before making this decision. It feels like you're stuck in a situation that frustrates you, one that you desperately want to escape from. Deep inside, there’s a fire burning, urging you to break free from this stuck energy. Yet, at the same time, fear holds you back, making you hesitant to take that step forward.

There’s a contradiction here—I feel that you know your own capabilities, yet at the same time, you don’t fully trust yourself. You might fear failure or worry that you won’t achieve the outcome you desire. And this inner conflict keeps you in a state of self-doubt and frustration. For example, you may be working in an environment where your skills and efforts are not being recognized as they should be. Deep down, you know you deserve more, but fear stops you from looking for new opportunities because you're afraid of failure.

Looking at the cards in this reading, if you choose to make this decision, I strongly feel that you will achieve what you’ve been dreaming of. I won’t say that the outcome will be something grand or unrealistic, but I can say with confidence that this decision will not lead to a negative result. Right now, it feels like you’re in a situation where you can’t fully express yourself—you can’t be who you truly are. You are talented, and you know it. Yet, in your current environment, you’re holding yourself back, unable to show your full potential. There is something restricting you, something keeping you trapped. If you take this step, you will likely find the freedom to be yourself, to feel more confident and independent. This decision may bring you a sense of fulfillment and satisfaction.

With the Aries Oracle card, the message is even stronger—you must be courageous enough to break free from this situation. I don’t feel like you are in a "comfort zone"; instead, it feels like a restrictive zone that is holding you back. Have you ever looked at someone else’s success and thought, "I could achieve that too because I know how to, I have the ability", yet you still feel stuck and powerless? If so, then if your decision involves breaking free from this limitation, don’t be afraid. Don’t hesitate any longer—what truly belongs to you is waiting for you ahead.

Pile 3

(The lovers, 7 of pentacles, King of wands/ Oracle card - Capricorn)

For pile three, I feel that you are torn between following your heart or listening to your mind when making this decision. Since I don’t fully understand the specific situation you are facing, I can only interpret the energy from the cards. And what I sense is hesitation—you are unsure whether to go with your emotions or to make a rational choice.

However, since this reading is about where your decision will lead you, I see that once you have made your choice, it will require you to invest a lot of time and perseverance, whether in work or relationships. But if you stay committed and patient with your choice, it will bring you well-deserved results—stability and security (if this decision is about work, it may lead you to a higher position, such as a managerial role or a promotion. If it’s about a relationship, it suggests a serious and stable connection.) I don’t see this as a decision that will yield quick results; rather, it will be a slow but steady journey.

For some of you in pile three, I sense that when you start seeing the initial results of your decision, you may feel a bit unsatisfied. However, this isn’t because the results are bad but because they might not fully match your expectations. It’s like planting an apple tree and hoping it will bear an abundance of fruit. The tree does produce apples, just not as many as you imagined, or perhaps they aren’t as big as you expected. There are many possible outcomes, but the key takeaway is that you will reap the rewards—you just need to avoid setting expectations so high that you can’t appreciate what you have achieved.

With the Capricorn Oracle card, the message strongly emphasizes perseverance, discipline, and dedication in order to reach your goals. Based on this reading, I truly believe that you will achieve well-deserved, solid, and lasting success.

This reading reminds me of a quote that I believe is the perfect advice for you:

"Choose with your heart, but execute with your mind."

Thank you all for following and supporting my readings. I have more readings and activities coming up, and I hope to continue receiving your support. Sending you love and light!❤️🙏🏻🪷💐🌸🫂

[peppertoastuniverse]

more than a late night snack: – gojo satoru chapter 2: pocari sweat

contents: geto suguru & reader, gojo satoru x reader, tw!ptsd, suguru being a good friend, shoko cameo, satoru being down bad and not knowing it yet, you and geto basically bully gojo lol summary:  sparring with geto is always difficult, but with gojo’s new found interest in you, it’s proving to be a different challenge all together.

wc: 3.2K

“here, for beating this animal.” he offers the bottle of pocari sweat to you, ignoring geto’s eye roll behind him. gojo shakes the bottle slightly when you hesitate. “c’mon take it.” “… uh thanks, gojo,” suspiciously eying him. that was strangely… thoughtful of him. what’s his deal?

previous chapter ll master list ll next chapter

once again you were lying on your back, panting, his wide frame leaning over you with a small taunting grin on his face.

god, he was good. so fucking good – it almost infuriated you. he always knew what to do to get you into this position. geto was undoubtably strong and skilled, you couldn't help but call on him every chance you got – embarrassingly sometimes even twice a day. at first he was too gentle and hesitant with you until you practically had to beg him to show you no mercy – which is how you landed on your back for the millionth time that day. you groaned, feeling little annoyed, humbled and sweaty. a part of you thought he liked the extra cardio, but deep down you knew that there was a competitive part of him that just liked to win.

“ready to go again?” he asks slightly out of breath. geto gracefully unties his long hair from his messy bun, before combing his fingers roughly through his hair to redo the knot. a few months ago you shyly asked geto if he could help you improve your hand-to-hand combat and you were grateful when graciously he agreed. you needed the practice. so a few times a week you met geto at the school gym. he was a good teacher, giving you pointers here and there, encouragingly suggesting adjustments to your technique. you were improving, slowly but surely. you winced still on the ground, a frustrated hand passing over your face. “i know i pinned you last time, but today it seems impossible.”

“well, you’re more distracted today and a little more .. impulsive,” he thoughtfully hums, hand over his mouth. “what’s been on your mind?” “I.. uh..just – ” you exhale, hollow eyes looking to the ceiling of the gym. a part of yourself was still back in shirakawa were you could hear the distant screaming, smell the mutilated bodies and the blood pooled at your feet – “…hm?” geto prompts you patiently, crouching down to lay beside you on the gym mats, still looking into your eyes. geto was two opposites at once, a soft contradiction. he had an intense stare but a gentle way about him that made you feel heard and reassured but simultaneously you knew that if he really wanted to, geto would be able to coax absolutely anything from you without any real effort. his domineering strength matched his silent resilience and you weren’t sure what to fully make of him just yet. you stared into his amethyst eyes hesitantly, debating on if you trusted him enough for this yet. it’s not that you didn’t like geto, you were probably the closest to him in your year – but that wasn’t really saying that much –  like everyone else you kept him at a safe distance. but you weren't sure if you were ready yet.

sensing your reluctance, geto joins you in looking up in at the ceiling, hiding his almost clairvoyant stare ".. i'm only asking because i've been a little worried.” you hummed quietly in acknowledgement fiddling with your fingers that rested on your stomach, unsure of what to say or where he was going with this.

“…you've be more quiet, like in your head a bit more, you know? shoko asked about you the other day and even satoru noticed." he continues thoughtfully. geto wasn’t sure what was going on with you, but he felt as if you were slowly slipping away. retreating into some cruel sanctuary where no one could follow. he could almost see through you, a shell his words would go through, disappearing into the void that occupied your seat. you weren’t joining them in the kitchen for meals anymore and you seemed to be even more reserved than before, even skipping sparring practice with him using a thinly veiled excuse of fatigue. your eyes were clouded and were weighed down by the dark rings that hung around them.

you sighed unsteadily, focusing on specific a beam on the ceiling.

you were growing more and more aware of the weight that you were carrying for two weeks. the burden almost suffocating you pressing against your lungs, squeezing so deeply that you were nearly drowning from the inside out.  you were certain there was deep scarring left behind. the scars of regret, guilt and fear that reverberated in your cavity, in the voice of the little grandma that made you udon, the young girl you let braid your hair, the man who gave you some daikon just because, the woman with the short hair who- dead. all dead.

geto’s honeyed tone calls your name, tethering you back to reality. throwing you a buoy to keep your struggling mind above the rapids. geto’s presence was calming, and his smooth voice was helping chase away your racing thoughts. with him you felt comfortable, safe even … maybe he had the potential to be someone that you could fully trust. you reluctantly rolled over on your side to finally look directly at him, making a decision.

“i’ve been.. having these dreams.” “...dreams?” “mhm… of shirakawa.” voice trembling, hands curling into fists, voice shaking slightly.

a pregnant pause of realization. geto’s eyes widen in understanding. he chastises himself – that would make sense, why didn’t he see it earlier? your strange behaviour started after that mission, your face paled when ieri casually asked about it the other day. nightmares were an unspoken byproduct of the job of being a sorcerer. even geto had lingering thoughts of certain missions that have gone astray and was often disgusted with what he saw on the battlefield. overtime he was starting to grow saddened with how other sorcerers – his friends– were being affected by the horrors of the job. duty. a choice to suffer for the greater good – a necessary sacrifice. it was a sobering realization.

his hand taps antsily on his stomach he turns his head to you feeling your shy stare.  geto rolls over to his side, mirroring you, studying your struggling expression. gently he inches closer to you and reaches over. he engulfs your shaking fist in his larger warm hand. lightly squeezing, geto successfully easing your shaking. the rough waves of guilt within you calmed to the rhythm of his slow breathing. his quiet reassurance and acknowledgement of your struggles simultaneously squeezes your chest, protecting you from your intrusive thoughts. you shut your eyes as you feel his thumb moving back and forth  – a sympathetic reminder of his understanding. after some time, you open your eyes. "...thanks geto," you say faintly, not trusting your voice for much more, you already felt too vulnerable.

“hm? for what?”

“for.. for this.”

withdrawing his hand, his violet eyes soften as you see the beginnings of a small smile forming, "y'know you can call me suguru, right?"

“…I can?” “yeah! ‘course you can. we’ve known each other for like – what like almost 6 months now?”

“yeah, something like that...”

“yeah so, we’re friends right?”

friends.

“i.. yeah. yes. i guess we are friends.”

“so, my friends call me suguru –” he says easily, like being kind was the simplest thing in the world. he amazed you. "hmm, i dunno because gojo calls you baby. so… i wanted to be sure," you tease. "oh? you can call me baby too if that's what you're comfortable with." geto says amused, elbow upright to support his head, his bangs falling over his eyes. your surprised face carves out a chuckle, a rusty sound to even your own ears. pleased with himself, geto grins wider. he hasn’t heard that sound in at least a week or two but he had a strong suspicion that there a certain person was dying to hear it. geto liked that you were smiling again. “careful,” you warn eyebrow quirked, “gojo might get jealous,” eyes looking livelier, body bending into a seated position with a stretch.

geto snorts. “i’m sure satoru can deal.” “I think you overestimate gojo's maturity. just don’t blame me if he starts moaning and groaning for the next year about this…” “alright, just say he’s a little shit..,” you grin at his honestly, feeling lighter than you had in the last week.

“hey… c’mon let’s see if you can get me this time,” geto says rising to his feet challengingly. “oh, don’t worry – I definitely will.”

footsteps echoing, gojo walked through the halls. he carded his long fingers through his hair mindlessly, sighing. it was a rare day when he didn’t have a mission or class and he was bored beyond reason. he was restless - the accumulation of bottled energy within him swirling, brewing dangerously, threatening to bubble over any minute now.

he had already been kicked out of ieri’s room for complaining too much.

“ – but listen, i don’t really understand what the big deal is. suguru goes on and on about it like god’s greatest gift to man but it’s literally just soba and you dip that shit in a sauce. you even have to dip it yourself – like if im paying for that shit I’d want someone to dip it for me. why do I have to put in the effort when im paying to have an experience, y’know? and don’t get me started on the temperature, why the fuck is it col–“ “holy shit, gojo. give it a rest oh my god.” yikes. last name. “but shokooooo,” his voice going up in pitch gratingly, “these are very important thoughts from a very important person!” “and who would that be? you’ve been talking about zaru soba for like 20 minutes!” ieri counters, head leaning on her closed fist, not even bothering to look at gojo as she flipped through a magazine at her desk. gojo huffs, lip jutted out. “no one appreciates me here.” “dude, i told you, im in the middle of something!” “you’ve been reading for hours! you said you’d be done a billion years ago.” gojo whines lying on floor of ieri’s bedroom, foot tapping out an impatient rhythm on the leg of the chair that she was currently sitting on. she scoffs, half amused and half annoyed, light brown eyes flickering to blue. “go bug the others, then! they’re probably still sparring in the gym.” “ehhh? sparring, what now?” “mm?  yeah. suguru’s helping with their hand to hand combat. they’ve been meeting up pretty frequently.” not bothering to look up at what she knew was gojo’s dramatic pout.

he scoffed at the memory. they could’ve asked me to help them with sparring. why didn’t they ask me?

subconsciously he found himself at your door, his feet carrying him without his mind even realizing it. gojo found that his mind wandered to you a lot more than usual after that night. he couldn’t get your hollow expression out of his head, or your soft, gravelly voice when you were about 2 seconds away from slumber, or the way your warm body felt when he carried you back to your room, or how you would rock back and forth while waiting for the udon to cook. there was just something about you, he just couldn't help it. he was starting to see parts of you in places where he least expected it and it always bewildered him.

halting suddenly, chuckling as he decides to stop by the gym just to see if geto would want to go with him to the arcade and if you happened to there too, so what? but maybe he could convince you both to go… turning around with a new plan and a mischievous smile, gojo hesitantly stops by the vending machine.

you definitely couldn’t get him. once again you were on your back, sweating but this time panting heavily. geto’s figure towering over you. “this time was better. but you gotta remember to watch your left – “ before he could even finish that thought, you sweep his legs from under him with your left leg. geto lands on the mats beneath with a surprised grunt as you quickly pin him, throwing your legs on either side of his abdomen, sitting on him triumphantly.

“how’s that for my left leg?” leaning your face slightly down to his, grinning cheekily.

geto groans, shifting slightly “…this doesn’t count you know.” annoyed at the injustice.

you giggle breaks your annoyed facade, “what?! how does this no-“

you’re interrupted by an echoing thud. two cautious heads whip to the source of the intrusion. a cold bottle of pocari sweat curiously rolls towards you, the explanation following behind: a mop of unruly white hair. gojo runs his hand through his hair messily. a flicker of an indescribable expression flashes on gojo’s faltering face at the position he finds you and geto in. a mask of a grin paints his pale face – it doesn’t suit him. “ooOOOooooh fun! sparring looks like fun. can I join?” eyebrows wriggling suggestively. “ugh. grow up gojo” you say with a frown. gojo starts making his way to you both while picking up the abandoned bottle and placing it upright on the mat. “what? if you wanted to straddle someone as a friend you could’ve just asked me, babe. sugu never lets me straddle him and i’ve even ask-” “satoru. ” geto’s eyes narrow in warning.  

“fine baby, fine. our little secret then.” gojo grins widely, smile not reaching his frosty eyes. geto scoffs shaking his head, no doubt mentally running through his arsenal of curses trying to decide which one to unleash on gojo first. geto delicately pats your upper thigh to motion you to get up, easily taking the hint you rise to your feet. geto doesn’t miss blue eyes narrowing at the contact, fist tightening slightly, causing an amused smile to break on geto’s face. you stick your tongue out at gojo, already annoyed. geto had an increasing suspicion that gojo was interested in you regardless of what the blue eye boy said. he saw how gojo’s body would unconsciously angle towards you whenever you were around or the way gojo would stare when you’d talk to ieri with a small smile on your face during class or how gojo would act even more insufferable when you were within a 500 foot radius. “they got you again, eh suguru? looks like you’re losing your touch!”

geto exhales through his nose, smile gone, “i didn’t think that they would play dirty,” shaking his head.

“a pin is a pin, regardless of the situation. you said that you always have to be ready, right?” you say pointedly as you reach down to offer geto a hand to help him up. but before geto could accept, gojo rushes towards him effectively knocking your hand out of the way roughly. you tsked, annoyed at gojo’s brazenness.

“oh no, suguuuu! are you hurt? did they – what did they do to my baby?!” gojo wails dramatically, clutching geto’s arm before moving behind him to fuss his shoulders.

“what the hell, dude? mmpffffff get off of me, you–“ gojo’s two hands squishing geto’s face from behind attempting to climb onto the dark haired boy’s back in a makeshift piggy back. geto tries to shake his best friend off by grabbing gojo’s arms and attempting to pull him into a headlock, knocking off the dark glasses of his pale face in the process.

“what do you mean? last night you didn’t say that – “ gojo whines beneath the rough housing, grabbing at geto’s torso, barking out a cackling laugh.  

“you were the one who – “ geto counters, efficiently grasping gojo’s arms. gojo lets out dramatic high pitch squeal. gojo tackles the dark haired boy roughly causing geto to brightly burst out laughing. the two boys roll on the mat with fierce energy, a chaotic tangle of long limbs, grunts and mocking shouts. “babeee, help! suguru’s bullying m-“ he shouts at you, his lanky legs twisting to wrap around geto’s frame.

the assault stalls when gojo hears your bright laughter – the first sighting of water in the desert of his heart, unknown yet if it was a mirage. sensing gojo’s hesitation, geto slowly eases his hold on gojo, eyebrows raised, head turning to see the cause.

ah. of course.

panting, geto dusts himself off while watching gojo. his blue eyes watch your head thrown back, laugher etched even in your eyes. the smallest spark, the soft sunrise after two weeks of rain.

“you’re ridiculous,” you comment, head shaking.

“i’m ridiculous? you didn’t help me at all!” gojo counters childishly. you bend over to pick up gojo's dark glasses – a casualty from the boys’ recklessness. geto smacks gojo’s arm as he notices the obvious gawking at your backside. geto cocks an eyebrow judgementally, dude. gojo rolls his eyes exasperatedly in response, his palms splayed out, what?! I wasn’t looking!! gojo smacks him back.

obliviously, you open up gojo’s dark shades, inching closer to put them onto gojo’s surprised face, fingers grazing his flushing ears. he could smell the slight vanilla and lavender scent that he remembered lingered on your skin when he carried you from the kitchen table to your room two weeks ago. his mind drifted to the memory of how you felt against him that night. soft and warm. so close that if he dared he would be able feel your steady heartbeat against his skin contrasting against the fluttering of his. you were so close and yet not close enough. holding you, he wasn't sure who was dreaming.

hiding his uncharacteristically bashfulness, he makes no mention of your singeing touch as he bends down and picks up the energy drink, condensation building on the outside of the plastic bottle.

“here, for beating this animal.” gojo jerks his head in geto’s direction while offering the bottle of pocari sweat to you, ignoring geto’s eye roll behind him. he shakes the bottle slightly when you hesitate. “c’mon take it.”

“… uh thanks, gojo,” suspiciously eying him.

that was strangely… thoughtful of him. what’s his deal? you untwist the cap and take a small sip. cool and refreshing, slightly sweet but smooth and hydrating.

“seeee? aren’t you glad I thought about you? huh, huh?” he tapping at your cheek, cheeky grin on his face. you slap his hands away from your face with an exasperated sigh. “this is when you say, thank you satoru! you’re so thoughtful and wonderful and handsome and kind and so, so sexy–“

nevermind, he’s an idiot.

“hm, suguru, you want some?” you call out to geto, turning away from the white haired menace to offer the bottle over to him.

gojo whips his head to your face, narrowed stormy blue eyes darting between you and geto. he felt a foreign feeling take over his chest. it surges within him, breathing hard to burrow its claws along the bottom of his tense stomach, green eyed, hot tempered and absolutely ravenous.

he mentally makes a note to stop by ieri’s room again, he wasn’t feeling like himself –  must be some strange after effect from that last curse back in Osaka the other day.

..wait were you looking at.. suguru like that? why are you always thinking about him when he was right her– wait one fucking second. suguru? why’s he called suguru when i’m – 

he whines your name “since when do you call him suguru?” furrowing his white brows.

“… isn’t that his name?" you question, moving slightly closer to geto as he takes the bottle from your outstretched arm thankfully before taking a swing.

“yeah but you call me gojo!!” you and geto exchange a look.

“oh here we go…” you hear geto mutter under his breath, recapping the bottle before handing back to you. “uhh…. isn’t that your name?” “i thought we were closer than that, babe.”  gojo eyes you, glasses down his slender nose, crystal eyes theatrically watery.

“well the difference is that I actually like suguru,” you deadpan, stretching out your back.

“hey, don’t joke like that!” he pouts as he moves closer to you. hand over his chest like you’ve gravely wounded him. and you have.

“it’s only what you deserve, gojo,” you say lightly patting his shoulder before walking past him to go address geto.

"you’re so mean to me, babe!" gojo yells at your retreating figure. “anyway, same time next week?” you say glancing at geto, swiftly walking across the gym, holding the half full energy drink in your hand. geto chuckles, waving to you, ignoring gojo's annoyed mutters, cursed energy dangerously swirling.

"thanks for today, baby." you say over your shoulder, eyes bright. before crossing the threshold of the gym. you hear an incredulous shout:

“BABY!?!”

a/n: my love language is bullying gojo this chapter was very geto-centric but i can't help but love a princess -- head image credit: unknown! credit goes to the rightful artists dividers from: @/adornedwithlight

[hanamukes]

Uika in Ave Mujica episode 4

For episodes 1-3 of the Ave Mujica anime, I felt like while there was definitely stuff going on with Uika that's worth unpacking, the scenes were straightforward enough in what they wished to convey that I didn't feel like they warranted explanation. Episode 4 has completely turned my view of this character on its head though. It feels as if her every word and action in this episode completely contradicts what we knew of her prior. What is going on with her?

I wanted to talk about her in a longform post, so here I am. This is maybe half analysis, half just me rambling my thoughts on what's happening on screen.

DISCLAIMER: If you're not familiar with the way I discuss this character, let me make it clear now that I absolutely love her! This post is essentially a love poem dedicated to how fantastic I think her writing is. That said my tone here might come off a bit sharp, because of how contradictory she is (which I say as a compliment) and how I want to grab her by the scruff and shake her until she tells me what's going on inside that head of hers. Just wanted to mention something before anyone gets the impression I'm criticizing her or the writing when I'm doing nothing of the sort.

Her first moment happens and immediately a lot stands out to me

First: the models in this anime fall under two specifications, girls who always have a blush programmed in and girls who don't. For instance, Sakiko has one so she's always blushing no matter her mood. Uika doesn't. But throughout this entire episode, she does. Why? Why is she so... eerily happy, in a way we have never seen her before?

Secondly, what is her aim here? Sakiko expressed her discomfort with everyone's attitudes, and rather than just being "Sakiko's second voice" as she has been up until now (take the episode 3 fight as an example), she's taking everyone else's side. Her actions are already in total contradiction with the Uika we've seen up until now, who didn't care about anything except easing Sakiko's feelings

Then this happens. Uika is basically in la-la land daydreaming about having her destiny tied to Sakiko's forever (especially because Nyamu points out that sounds like something Sakiko would say), yet she's ignoring her beloved who sits on the other side of the table

Uika, do you really love Mujica as it is when Sakiko's expressing to you directly that she's unhappy?

Ironically, when she does acknowledge Sakiko directly, it only leads to further frustration for Sakiko

Because she's focusing on the wrong thing. She's more worried about Sakiko's exhaustion from writing songs (which is something she can physically see, thus easily pick up on) rather than Sakiko's concerns with the band (which is something she'd have to actually stop to think about). It really feels like she doesn't understand Sakiko at all. How much does she actually stop to think about her feelings? How surface leveled, rose-colored lens does she view her?

Her actions here scream, "well, so long as I get to stay with Sakiko, I don't actually care if she's happy," regardless of if that's her intent. Sometimes your inner feelings aren't enough, Uika. Sakiko is actively looking miserable in front of you and what are you doing about it?

Are you really just going to leave without saying anything to her? You express concern when halfway out the door, yet when face to face with Sakiko, you act like nothing is wrong?

Again, yes, Sakiko is exhausted, but that's not all there is to it Uika. And she hasn't exactly been subtle about what she's worried about!

Mortis keeps the focus of the conversation to Sakiko having to write all the scripts (thus prompting Uika to point out that she's been pulling all-nighters and maybe that's the problem), but I quite like this line, as there's a lot to unpack here

前はそういうの絶対見せなかったのに

The translation gets the idea across fine to be clear, but in Japanese, there's an emphasis on the "never" part. It feels unthinkable to Uika that Sakiko would perhaps lash out, or show her exhaustion to the others. Kind of putting a mental pin in this because that's not the impression we, the viewers, have seen from prior episodes (Sakiko in this episode was acting incredibly in line with what we've seen of her already in this anime), so I wonder where Uika got this idea from. It makes you wonder just what Uika's impression of "normal" or "prior" Sakiko is

This line is genuinely sweet of her, if not a bit ironic because Uika's already absolutely overworking herself for Sakiko, which Sakiko pointed out in episode 1 (a lot of the officially published interviews have been pointing this out over and over too, just as a side note). They really want to ease each other's burdens...

Yeah, we're not even being subtle about Uika having to "borrow" ways to cheer people up anymore

I actually noticed this about her even back in It's MyGO. When Uika comforted Tomori in episode 10, it was eerily close to what Sakiko did in episode 3. Tomori even associated Uika's actions as being reminiscent of Sakiko's behavior. I had no evidence about Uika copying what Sakiko did then (I don't... think? know? that Uika saw Sakiko's meeting with Tomori and thus could copy it), but now? There's evidence that perhaps her acts of generosity are in fact just things she's imitating from others. If you're curious about the It's MyGO example of this, I highly recommend watching this for yourself

Oh, I'll also mention that in my pre-anime analysis post for Uika, I mentioned she probably doesn't "shine" at all as an idol without Mana, and she more or less just confirmed that for us

Again there's a lot to unpack with this part

Hoo boy. Let's go back an episode. In episode 3, Uika was feeling insecure about the fact Sakiko "knew" Mutsumi "very well since they were kids." She looked visibly bothered by it before changing the topic. So hearing from "Mutsumi" herself that "Actually, you're the one closest to Sakiko, not me" must be making her day. Mortis is actively using Uika's affection for Sakiko against her (well, for the sake of the band, but she's still manipulating (for lack of a better word) her regardless). It's a bit harrowing when you realize that Uika's happy that her "competition" for being close with Sakiko is dead, despite her not realizing Mutsumi more or less is dead at this point...

Moving on to the scene in her apartment, my only addition here is... well, it sure is something how the only things she said to Sakiko were what Mortis told her to say. She has no lines here that weren't just parroting advice. Is that really all you have to say to your beloved?

This is an interesting comment from her

Because there's a couple ways you could interpret this. Is Uika referring to the "stiff" expression, or the close proximity? We know for Sumimi, she views herself as having a "terrible expression" (when Mana's not around to change her energy), but it's also not lost on me that it could also be referring to "my image of Sumimi [where we take photos together in close proximity]"

Sakiko's reaction to this is what makes it so meaningful to me

Nyamu and the photographers are saying "this doesn't look like Mujica at all, but that's a good thing," which Sakiko is obviously displeased about. Why would going against Mujica's worldview be a good thing? And yet... even Uika, who founded the band with her and who writes all their songs, is saying she likes the photo. Once again, Uika is completely disregarding Sakiko's feelings despite how close she is to her. Physically, they're almost close enough to brush shoulders, but emotionally, I don't think Sakiko's ever felt further from her. The betrayal in her face and voice feels so obvious, yet Uika's still in la-la land like she was earlier in the episode and doesn't acknowledge it at all... we really can put ourselves in Sakiko's shoes throughout the whole episode, because truly, what is going through Uika's head?

Uika doing sweet gestures for Sakiko. This is the character I recognize!

It's not lost on me that 1. she has two umbrellas like she does in her apartment, and 2. there's this almost eerie focus on Uika making coffee for people. I say this because the opening itself has a shot of her mugs, there's that weirdly placed clip of coffee dripping in episode 2 (it's also in one of the trailers), the donut scene in episode 3, and now this. I'll be interested in seeing why this is so important to her

I do wish we had gotten to see the conversation Uika and Sakiko had here. Sakiko has a habit of brushing Uika off, but she was finally able to open up to her about something. They finally talked together amidst all of this miscommunication and not understanding one another, but we didn't get to see it... (which may be a sign they didn't really talk about much, but hey, I like my Uisaki crumbs where I can get them)

Thank you for the confirmation that Uika would be the first victim in a slasher film. Moving on

I love the way this comment is framed. If Sakiko left the band, who would be most hurt? Sakiko or Uika?

Uh oh. She's having her words used against her

What she said in episode 3 was honestly a bit careless* (she said it in front of Sakiko, who famously broke up Crychic by leaving it)... but she did have a point. She just wanted to articulate that Ave Mujica should be the 5 of them, and that surely they have a strong enough bond that if one of them left, they wouldn't be able to carry on and just "find a replacement," right? She's our kindhearted front of the band who loves everyone equally, right?

Well

(To clarify the translation, it's not super clear whether Uika said this directly to her, or if Mortis just hit the nail on the head)

Oops! Now that's an awkward position to be in, especially in front of Sakiko herself! Zero denial either...

(*I'll just tack this thought on here, but there's potential Uika's "Please don't hate me" line from the trailer could be because she feels guilt for having said the "if one member quits it's over" line (and thus bringing about the downfall of the band))

Last thing for this episode...

Same, Mortis. What? Why does she have no fight in her? Why doesn't she care? Why is she not saying anything? Are her feelings of guilt, embarrassment and self-hatred actually overpowering her drive to be with Sakiko? Is it over for her, now that the cat's out of the bag regarding the fact she only ever cared about the band to be with Sakiko?

I noticed she acted like a kicked puppy in episode 3 as well. When someone points out how selfish she actually is, she loses all her edge and goes quiet. She wants to escape the situation. She can't fight against what's true about her (the ugliness in her heart), after all, lest she drives herself into a corner as a hypocrite even more than she already has. But her reactions are fascinating to me, because you'd think the front of the band, and someone who swore her life to Sakiko out of profound love for her, would put up more of a fight to keep the band together so she can stay with her. She's not doing damage control at all, she's just taking the hits and all the impact that comes with it. Maybe it's some form of self harm...

(I'm also incredibly curious to know what Sakiko thought of all of this, but maybe that was the least of her concerns...)

Anyway, we'll see what happens next week. I wonder if and when we'll get closure on why she's been so apathetic to Sakiko, despite her claimed devotion for her. I get the impression Sakiko will be moving out (next episode?), so we'll have to see how she reacts to that...