#I went for more of a like… built from a reflection of who he is and how he sees himself angle 🥴💕

[dekuboya]

Some John as a human sketching 🥴

[elytrafemme]

i think its funny that im still really shy about the fact that i think romantic quackcicle is reductive to c!quackity's character in a way that personally grates me and not in the common discourse interpretation of "u only hate the /r because you dont think c!slime can be romantic " (not a question of c!slime its entirely abt what i personall think makes c!q's arc satisfying which is trope subversion bla bla bla).

bc like first of all i dont think abt dsmp as much second of all who gives a shit its been like two years. i am like busy in life people have jobs this is not on anyones minds but i still fear the almighty discourse God bless. anyway i put stuff in tags i really hurt my hands somehow so i cant type w as mjuch dextertiy so work w me and the typos

[marvelsmostwanted]

There are people – some in my own Party – who think that if you just give Donald Trump everything he wants, he’ll make an exception and spare you some of the harm. I’ll ignore the moral abdication of that position for just a second to say — almost none of those people have the experience with this President that I do. I once swallowed my pride to offer him what he values most — public praise on the Sunday news shows — in return for ventilators and N95 masks during the worst of the pandemic. We made a deal. And it turns out his promises were as broken as the BIPAP machines he sent us instead of ventilators. Going along to get along does not work – just ask the Trump-fearing red state Governors who are dealing with the same cuts that we are. I won’t be fooled twice.

I’ve been reflecting, these past four weeks, on two important parts of my life: my work helping to build the Illinois Holocaust Museum and the two times I’ve had the privilege of reciting the oath of office for Illinois Governor.

As some of you know, Skokie, Illinois once had one of the largest populations of Holocaust survivors anywhere in the world. In 1978, Nazis decided they wanted to march there.

The leaders of that march knew that the images of Swastika clad young men goose stepping down a peaceful suburban street would terrorize the local Jewish population – so many of whom had never recovered from their time in German concentration camps.

The prospect of that march sparked a legal fight that went all the way to the Supreme Court. It was a Jewish lawyer from the ACLU who argued the case for the Nazis – contending that even the most hateful of speech was protected under the first amendment.

As an American and a Jew, I find it difficult to resolve my feelings around that Supreme Court case – but I am grateful that the prospect of Nazis marching in their streets spurred the survivors and other Skokie residents to act. They joined together to form the Holocaust Memorial Foundation and built the first Illinois Holocaust Museum in a storefront in 1981 – a small but important forerunner to the one I helped build thirty years later.

I do not invoke the specter of Nazis lightly. But I know the history intimately — and have spent more time than probably anyone in this room with people who survived the Holocaust. Here’s what I’ve learned – the root that tears apart your house’s foundation begins as a seed – a seed of distrust and hate and blame.

The seed that grew into a dictatorship in Europe a lifetime ago didn’t arrive overnight. It started with everyday Germans mad about inflation and looking for someone to blame.

I’m watching with a foreboding dread what is happening in our country right now. A president who watches a plane go down in the Potomac – and suggests — without facts or findings — that a diversity hire is responsible for the crash. Or the Missouri Attorney General who just sued Starbucks – arguing that consumers pay higher prices for their coffee because the baristas are too “female” and “nonwhite.” The authoritarian playbook is laid bare here: They point to a group of people who don’t look like you and tell you to blame them for your problems.

I just have one question: What comes next? After we’ve discriminated against, deported or disparaged all the immigrants and the gay and lesbian and transgender people, the developmentally disabled, the women and the minorities – once we’ve ostracized our neighbors and betrayed our friends – After that, when the problems we started with are still there staring us in the face – what comes next.

All the atrocities of human history lurk in the answer to that question. And if we don’t want to repeat history – then for God’s sake in this moment we better be strong enough to learn from it.

I swore the following oath on Abraham Lincoln’s Bible: “I do solemnly swear that I will support the constitution of the United States, and the constitution of the state of Illinois, and that I will faithfully discharge the duties of the office of Governor .... according to the best of my ability.

My oath is to the Constitution of our state and of our country. We don’t have kings in America – and I don’t intend to bend the knee to one. I am not speaking up in service to my ambitions — but in deference to my obligations.

If you think I’m overreacting and sounding the alarm too soon, consider this:

It took the Nazis one month, three weeks, two days, eight hours and 40 minutes to dismantle a constitutional republic. All I’m saying is when the five-alarm fire starts to burn, every good person better be ready to man a post with a bucket of water if you want to stop it from raging out of control.

Those Illinois Nazis did end up holding their march in 1978 – just not in Skokie. After all the blowback from the case, they decided to march in Chicago instead. Only twenty of them showed up. But 2000 people came to counter protest. The Chicago Tribune reported that day that the “rally sputtered to an unspectacular end after ten minutes.” It was Illinoisans who smothered those embers before they could burn into a flame.

Tyranny requires your fear and your silence and your compliance. Democracy requires your courage. So gather your justice and humanity, Illinois, and do not let the “tragic spirit of despair” overcome us when our country needs us the most.

Sources:

• NBC Chicago & J.B. Pritzker, Democratic governor of Illinois, State of the State address 2025: Watch speech here | Full text

• Betches News on Instagram (screencaps)

[kateschi]

where pride meets love

synopsis: in a u.a. highschool reunion, your husband is up next in introducing his family.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: inspired by @call-memissbrightside

the gymnasium at u.a. is alive with activity, filled with faculty, students, and heroes from all walks of life.

katsuki’s standing near the back, holding your baby girl in his arms, her tiny hands clutching at the fabric of his hero uniform, her eyes wide as she takes in everything around her.

his expression is a mix of annoyance—because honestly, this whole “family introduction” thing is a bit much—and tenderness, which only those closest to him will ever notice.

you stand beside him, your hand resting on his arm, and for a split second, you catch a glimpse of something different in his usual scowl—something soft.

you’ve seen it before, but only in moments like this, when he’s looking at the little life in his arms or the family he’s built.

principal nezu steps forward with a polite clap of his paws.

“thank you all for coming! we’re glad to have so many wonderful alumni here today. if anyone with families would like to introduce them, now’s your chance.”

the crowd goes quiet, waiting for someone to step up. katsuki glares around, crossing his arms over his chest, but it’s obvious he’s trying to look disinterested in the attention he’s about to receive.

it doesn’t work, though. he feels all eyes on him, even before nezu directs them that way.

you give him a small smile, teasing him with a gentle nudge to his side. “you ready to show your family off?”

he scoffs but doesn’t pull away. instead, his gaze softens just a little when he looks down at your daughter, who smiles up at him with those same bright eyes you both adore so much.

his chest swells, and despite his usual gruffness, his pride is impossible to hide.

you feel it too—the silent understanding between the two of you, the knowledge that this moment, in front of everyone, is just another reflection of how far your life together has come.

with a sigh, katsuki straightens his back, shoulders broadening as he stands a little taller. “alright, fine. let’s get this over with,” he mutters under his breath. but then he clears his throat, lifting his chin just a bit.

he shifts his daughter against his shoulder, gently adjusting her so she’s more comfortable in his arms, and with a look at you that says, here we go, he raises his voice for everyone to hear.

“this—” he gestures to your baby, her tiny hands reaching for him in her usual, curious way—“this is my kickass baby.”

he flashes a rare smile down at her, the kind that could melt the hardest of hearts, before pulling you into him with his free arm, draping it over your shoulders.

“and this here,” he says, puffing his chest out slightly, “this is my kickass wife, y/n. the best damn woman in the world.”

you catch his eye, and for a brief moment, it feels like the whole room has faded away. there’s only the two of you, standing side by side, as he proudly introduces you to everyone in his own way.

a few of the students near the front start whispering to each other, smiles on their faces. kirishima, always the supportive friend, claps katsuki on the back, his grin wide.

"man, you really went all out with the family introduction, huh?" kirishima laughs, his voice loud enough for katsuki to hear.

katsuki looks over at him, narrowing his eyes, but there’s no malice in his gaze.

instead, it’s just the usual katsuki way of pretending to be annoyed. “shut it,” he growls, but his hand tightens around yours.

kirishima raises his hands in mock surrender, still chuckling. “I’m just saying, you’re looking like a proud family man.”

“damn right I am,” katsuki mutters, his gaze falling back on your daughter, who is now gripping his finger as she babbles in her own little way.

his eyes soften again, a rare, unguarded moment that no one else seems to notice, but you do.

you always do.

as the buzz in the room continues around them, katsuki’s gaze remains fixed on your daughter, his lips pulling into the smallest of smiles as he watches her reach for his hand.

she’s talking—if you can call it that—her baby words tumbling out like she’s already got something important to say.

you can hear the quiet adoration in katsuki’s voice when he responds to her, low and soft, “yeah, yeah, I hear ya, kid.”

you lean into his side, the warmth of his arm around your shoulders feeling like home. it’s one of those moments where everything feels right.

amid the chaos, in front of so many people, katsuki looks just like the dad you always knew he’d be—strong, protective, and completely head over heels for the tiny person in his arms.

the crowd slowly starts to disperse, some students moving towards the refreshment table, others chatting amongst themselves.

katsuki stays still, barely noticing the shift in the room. his eyes stay locked on your baby, a tiny, content smile playing at the edges of his lips.

“want me to take her?” you ask, nudging him gently with your elbow. “you look like you could use a break.”

katsuki looks down at your daughter, his arms tightening ever so slightly around her. she stares up at him, her big eyes soft and trusting, and for a brief second, it seems like time stands still.

then, just as quickly, he shakes his head, but the fondness in his gaze remains.

“nah,” he mutters gruffly. “she’s good here. I’m fine.”

you let out a small chuckle and settle against him, your hand resting gently on his arm as you watch your daughter settle down against his chest, a soft yawn escaping her lips.

katsuki pulls her a little closer, his other arm winding around you, bringing you both in.

the way his grip tightens around both of you, the way his hand moves just a little bit to the back of your neck, drawing you in closer.

you rest your cheek against his shoulder, and the sound of the crowd fades to the background.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 there'll be happiness after you

paring: remus lupin x f!reader x secret marauder

➥ in which, remus breaks up with you and one of his friends (who secretly liked you before you and remus had even gotten together) helps you move on with the break up.

warnings: angst, happy ending, prolly tons of errors..oops, semi rushed, idk what else:3

2.5k words

It was a chilly evening at Hogwarts. The grounds had begun to fall silent as the last few students trickled inside for dinner. You were supposed to be in the Great Hall with your friends, but something had pulled you to the lake instead. The stillness of the water reflected the state of your mind—unsettled, confused, and too tangled to make sense of.

You perched at the edge of the lake, your feet dangling just above the surface. The cool breeze tugged at your hair, but you barely noticed. The ache in your chest was louder than the wind, and every time you tried to distract yourself, your thoughts would return to him: Remus Lupin.

You used to feel so certain about him, about the future the two of you could build together. But now? Now it all seemed so far away, as though it had never really existed. You closed your eyes, allowing the tears to pool behind your eyelids before they fell. Remus had walked away, and in doing so, he had taken with him a part of you. His words echoed in your mind, sharp and bitter: “I’m not good enough for you. You deserve someone who can give you a future.”

You had argued, of course. You’d told him you didn’t care about his past or the darkness that followed him, that you loved him for him—for all of him. But his fears had won, as they always had.

You hadn’t expected to feel so empty.

The day Remus had told you it was over, you felt like you were watching the most beautiful thing you’d ever known slip away in slow motion. The setting sun cast long shadows in the Gryffindor common room as you sat together on the couch, the space between you palpable.

“Y/N, please understand,” Remus had pleaded, his voice soft but firm. “I love you more than I can say, but I can’t keep asking you to love someone like me.”

His words had struck you like a blow to the chest. Your heart had started racing, and your hands had trembled in your lap. “Remus, what do you mean? I want this—us—so badly.”

He had sighed, running a hand through his disheveled brown hair. “I can’t be what you need. I won’t let you waste your life with someone who’s broken.”

You hadn’t been able to stop the tears from falling. “You’re not broken. You’re just... you. I don’t need someone perfect.”

But he had only shaken his head, his eyes filled with regret. “I can’t be the person you deserve. You deserve someone who can be with you, without fear, without secrets. You deserve someone who can love you without hurting you.”

In that moment, something in you had shattered. The love you had felt so sure of—the love you had given him so completely—wasn’t enough to keep him from running. And as you watched him walk away, you felt something break inside you, something that hadn’t been fixed since.

The next few weeks were a blur. You still went to classes, you still spent time with your friends, but everything felt off. Every time you saw Remus, your heart would flutter, only to crash when you remembered that things were different now. He no longer looked at you like he used to, with the warmth and affection you had once seen in his eyes.

And you? You were pretending, trying to fit in with a world that felt too bright, too loud. Your thoughts kept drifting to the past, to all the memories you had built with him, and every time, the hollow ache in your chest grew stronger.

One evening, as you found yourself alone on the grounds again, your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Y/N?”

You glanced up to see James Potter walking toward you. His usual confidence was tempered by the concern in his eyes. “Hey, what’s going on? You’ve been... off lately.”

You offered a faint smile, shrugging. “Just tired, I guess. A lot on my mind.”

James sat beside you, his long legs extending in front of him as he stared at the lake, not pressing you for an answer. It wasn’t that James didn’t know what had happened—it was obvious to everyone—but he never pushed. He just was there.

“You know,” James said casually, breaking the silence, “there’s this little thing called ‘talking about it.’” His tone was teasing, but there was a softness underneath that made your heart ache a little.

“I don’t really know where to start,” you admitted, looking at your hands. “I... I just feel like I gave everything, and now I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

James turned his head to look at you, his brow furrowing. “You’re still you. You’re just a little lost right now.”

You blinked, surprised at his insight. “How do you know?”

James shrugged, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t know. You just have that look about you. Like you’re carrying something heavy. But you don’t have to carry it alone, Y/N.”

You swallowed, unsure of how to respond. His words, his kindness, made something stir inside of you. It wasn’t love—not yet—but it was something else. Something that felt safe.

“I think I’ve been pretending a little too much,” you said softly. “I’ve been trying to act like I’m fine, but I’m really not.”

James met your gaze, his expression genuine. “It’s okay to not be fine, you know? You don’t have to put on a brave face all the time.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt the tears you’d been holding back threaten to spill over. But James didn’t pull away. He didn’t rush to comfort you, either. He just stayed beside you, steady and calm.

The days passed, and you spent more time with James. It wasn’t romantic at first, not in the way you’d imagined falling for someone. It wasn’t instant sparks and overwhelming chemistry—it was easy, familiar, and comforting.

James never pushed. He let you come to him when you were ready. He’d show up with a cup of tea when you were studying late in the library, or crack a joke when you looked like you were spiraling into your own head. Slowly, you began to feel the tightness in your chest loosen. It wasn’t a fix—it wasn’t a cure—but it was a start.

One evening, as the two of you sat outside on the Quidditch pitch, the cool breeze whipping through your hair, James spoke up.

“You know, I think you’re allowed to feel angry about it all. About Remus.”

You stiffened, surprised. “I don’t want to be angry.”

“I’m not saying you should stay angry forever,” James replied gently. “But you’ve been through a lot. And sometimes, it’s okay to be angry before you can move on.”

You looked at him, his expression open and understanding. It was a rare thing—someone who didn’t shy away from your pain, someone who let you feel what you needed to feel. “I guess you’re right.”

James reaches over and nudges you with his elbow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “You know, you don’t have to do this alone. I’m here, even if you just need someone to listen.”

There was a warmth in his words that made something stir inside of you, something both comforting and unfamiliar. You weren’t sure if it was love yet—but it was a quiet understanding. A connection.

The crisp evening air was filled with the sound of cheers as Gryffindor’s Quidditch team celebrated their victory. James was at the center of the group, his eyes sparkling with excitement, but you found yourself watching him from the sidelines. You hadn’t realized how much time had passed since you last looked at him like this—really looked at him.

The glow of the setting sun reflected off the Quidditch pitch, casting long shadows across the field, and in that moment, something inside you stirred. It wasn’t love—not yet—but it was something more than what you’d ever expected.

James had always been there for you—since the breakup with Remus, since the pain that had felt endless. He never pushed, never tried to fill the empty space that Remus had left. Instead, he simply stayed by your side, offering comfort in small, quiet ways. And over time, you had come to realize that the man standing before you was someone you could trust. Someone you didn’t have to try so hard to impress. Someone who understood without words.

When the last of the cheering died down, James broke away from his teammates, scanning the crowd for you. As his eyes found yours, a smile spread across his face. It was an effortless, warm smile—the kind that made your heart flutter without warning.

"Hey," he said as he jogged up to you, his cheeks flushed from the game, his dark hair sticking out in all directions. "We did it! Did you see that last goal?"

You laughed softly, standing up from where you had been sitting on the stone bench. "I saw it. You were brilliant as always."

He grinned, brushing a hand through his messy hair. "What can I say? I'm a natural." Then his expression softened slightly, and he looked at you more seriously. "But seriously, I’m glad you were here to watch. Means a lot to me."

Something about his words—simple, genuine—struck a chord in you. Your heart swelled, and for the first time in months, the pain you’d carried around seemed to subside, just for a moment.

"I’m glad to be here too, James," you replied, your voice quieter than usual.

James tilted his head slightly, studying you with those warm, brown eyes of his. The playfulness of earlier had faded, replaced by something softer. "Are you okay? You’ve been distant lately. More than usual."

You hesitated. It was easy to say you were fine, but lately, you had begun to realize just how much you had been holding back. The grief. The confusion. The old feelings for Remus that you were still trying to untangle.

"I think... I think I’m starting to be," you said slowly. "Not all the way there, but I’m getting there."

James gave you a half-smile, the kind that showed he wasn’t quite buying it, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he stepped a little closer, his presence warm and steady beside you.

"I’m glad," he said, his voice low. "I’m really glad."

You looked up at him then, and there was something about the way he was looking at you—his face open, without any pretense—that made something inside you click. You didn’t have to force yourself to feel something. With James, you simply were. No expectations, no pressure.

"I didn’t expect this," you murmured, feeling a little embarrassed but also strangely relieved. "You’ve always been there for me, James. Even when I didn’t think I deserved it."

He shook his head, smiling as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "You don’t have to deserve it, Y/N. You’re my friend. And I... I care about you more than you know."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. There was no fanfare, no grand gestures, but in that moment, his honesty was enough.

"You’ve been so patient with me," you whispered, almost to yourself, "and I don’t know what I’d have done without you."

James didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer, his shoulder brushing yours as he gazed at the distant horizon. The silence between you felt comfortable, not awkward. And when he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"I’ve always had a soft spot for you, Y/N," he confessed, his tone lighter but carrying an honesty you hadn’t expected. "I know you’ve been through a lot. And I’m not trying to replace Remus or anything. I just..." He paused, his voice growing more serious. "I just want you to know that I’m here for you. Whatever that means."

The sincerity in his words made your chest tighten. You didn’t know exactly what it meant either, but something was shifting. And for the first time in a long time, you felt a glimmer of hope that maybe—just maybe—you could start something new. A chapter you hadn’t anticipated, but one that felt right all the same.

Before you could say anything more, James turned to face you, his hand moving as though to catch your eye. "I don’t know what the future holds, Y/N," he said, his voice softer now, "but I want to find out with you. Even if it’s just one step at a time."

You swallowed, feeling an unexpected surge of emotion. All the walls you’d built up in your heart were starting to crumble, piece by piece, and in their place was something both terrifying and beautiful.

"I think I’m ready to take that step," you whispered, meeting his gaze.

James’ face broke into a smile that felt brighter than any Quidditch victory. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you replied, the word tasting like a promise. Not just to him, but to yourself as well.

In the weeks that followed, things changed between you and James—but in the way that felt comfortable, not rushed. There was no sudden confession of love, no dramatic gesture that marked the shift. It was a slow burn, built on late-night conversations, stolen glances, and quiet moments spent together.

James continued to be your rock, but now, there was something else there too—an undercurrent of something more. You caught him looking at you a little longer than before, his smile lingering in a way that made your heartbeat a little faster. And though you still carried the remnants of your past with Remus, you began to see James in a new light, as someone who could help you heal, someone who wasn’t afraid to be patient with you as you learned to love yourself again.

One evening, after studying late in the library, James walked you back to the common room. The firelight flickered from the hearth, casting warm shadows on the stone walls.

"I’m proud of you, you know," he said suddenly, his voice low. "For how far you’ve come."

You looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his words. "Proud of me?" you repeated, a small smile forming on your lips. "For what?"

"For letting go of the past," he said, meeting your eyes. "For letting yourself heal. It’s not easy, Y/N. But you’ve been strong through it all."

Your heart swelled at his words. No one had ever said anything like that to you before—not like that. It wasn’t pity or sympathy, but admiration. And it made you feel... seen.

"Thank you, James," you whispered, your voice catching in your throat.

James didn’t say anything for a moment, just gazing at you with an expression that made your stomach flutter. And then, without another word, he took your hand in his. It wasn’t grand or overdramatic, but it felt significant—like the first step toward something new. Something you hadn’t even known you needed until now.

"Let’s keep walking," he said softly, squeezing your hand gently.

And you did. One step at a time.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Baby You're Perfect

LADS Men handling their plus size MC who is feeling insecure about her body. A/N: Let me preface this by saying The LADS Men love YOU no matter what you look like(and so do I). Remember MC is YOUUUUU. You are the main character yes you reading this. You're a baddie flash me a titty bitch. (There's love behind that 'bitch') [Requested by: kookieluvs]

Zayne

"Don't you think you'd be happy with someone ... Skinnier?" Zayne looks at you with a puzzled expression. He couldn't understand where this was coming from. "What do you mean?"

"Well you know...." Your voice trailed off not knowing how to word what you were saying without making it sound like you were trying to break up. "I don't please tell me"

You wrung your hands in front of you trying to calm your scattered brain. "I just think I'd be prettier if I was skinny ... what do you think?" Zayne stares back at you taking in your features which only caused you to become even more nervous. "Is that what you want?"

"Don't answer my question with a question" You narrowed your eyes at him. He simply chuckled before pinching your cheek. "So cute." You slapped his hand away rolling your eyes. You were quickly becoming annoyed at how it seemed like he was avoiding answering your question. You were three seconds away from storming out of the room in embarrassment when he spoke again. "I love you just the way you are MC have I ever made you feel as though I don't?"

"Well no..."

"I think if you want to lose weight because it would make you happy I will gladly attend gym sessions with you" He gently grabs your hand bringing it to his mouth and placing a soft kiss on your knuckles.

Butterflies.

He quickly followed up his gentle kiss with a soft kiss to your neck before leaning in and whispering in your ear. "However, if you want to lose weight because you think that's what I'd like then maybe I'm not worshipping you enough"

Rafayel

"What are you doing?" You jumped at Rafayel sneaking up behind you. He had caught you red handed squeezing your love handles while twisting and turning looking at yourself in the mirror. "Why are you moving in silence like that?"

"You answer my question first" He crossed his arms over his chest; leaning against the doorframe. "I'm just ... not feeling confident today..." You said turning back to face the full length mirror. Your reflection stared back at you as you stood there in nothing but a matching bra and panty set. "I wanted to surprise you with this new set, but-"

"But what?" Rafayel approached you wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. "I feel like I'm built like a bus driver" Rafayel couldn't hold back his laughter. He pfffft all in your ear hunching over squealing with laughter. "Its not funny!"

"I'm not laughing at you cutie I'm laughing at the way you described it" He collected himself and went back to hugging you from behind swaying you from side to side as he kissed your temple. "Believe me" He locked eyes with you in the mirror "You are art personified beloved I could stare at you for hours and never get tired of what I'm looking at"

Xavier

You were sat up leaning against the headboard in Xaviers bed as he laid between your legs with his arms wrapped around your waist. "Stop that" You met his blue eyes with confusion in yours. "Stop what?" Xavier tilted his chin towards your restless hands that kept smoothing up and down your thighs. "You do that every time you start overthinking"

"I'm not overthinking ... I'm just thinking" You replied defensively. "About?" The words were caught in your throat as Xavier stared with narrowed eyes awaiting your response. "I think I need to lose weight..."

"You don't need to do anything except breathe and die" You rolled your eyes at his response before tugging on the hem of your shirt. "You honestly believe I wouldn't be prettier if I was skinny?"

"Baby you're perfect ... I know I would love you no matter what" Before you could respond with another remark about yourself he gently started rubbing circles on your back with his thumb and continued "You care too much about what others think all that matters is what you think ... you have to spend the rest of your life with yourself ... why not fall in love with you? ... I fell in love with you and I will never regret it"

Sylus

Sylus grabbed your hand spinning you around so fast you didn't even have time to catch yourself. He pinned your arms behind you and pressed his chest into yours. "What do you think you're doing?" You stared back at him with your heart beating out of your chest. You didn't hear him come into your shared bedroom on the Onychinus base. "I- I w-was just"

"Take your time" He said with a softness in his eyes, but his iron grip never wavered. "I was just trying to suck in my stomach to see if I would look better you know...."

"I don't"

"Skinny! If I was skinny or at least a little thinner" Finally he released your hands as he crossed his arms over his chest eyeing you. On the outside you stood tall under his scrutinizing stare, but inside your nerves were going haywire. "And why do you want to lose weight?"

"Nothing fits me-"

"That's what tailoring is for" He cut you off with a matter of fact tone.

"Well what if people see us and think-"

Cutting you off again "Once you realize the you are a background character in ninety-nine percent of the worlds lives your life will get much easier." Your mouth snapped shut as he continued "You can't worry about what others think of you or you will stunt your own growth in life." Your eyes fell as you tried to soak up his words. He grabbed you by the chin as he tilted your head up and leaned down to make eye contact.

"Once you find those you care about and those who care about you that's all that matters" He poked your forehead before standing back to his full height. "And don't worry until you learn to fully love yourself I will love you enough for the both of us ... there's no love purer than mine."

[mageofspace924]

i was casually thinking about fiyero's costumes and how he went from musical red to movie blue bc fiyero is associated w blue in the books, and then i thought: why give the dancing-through-life-flirty-i-dont-really-care-but-i-do guy a full uniform suit when he arrives at school versus in the musical he's just wearing rolled up sleeves and a vest? its a reflection of his vulnerability. ofc its a well-known very much used symbol of vulnerability but still one nonetheless.

1) first outfit change: when movie fiyero meets elphaba, he's wearing the blue vest and the white sleeved shirt, the coat isnt in sight. when he's alone he allows some honesty/truth to himself, hence the uncovered sleeves. and when he does interact w elphaba, the exchange is quick fire yet subtly genuine (as much as one can get from meeting someone for the first time) not from his rehearsed lines as he does when he meets glinda for the first time (a crowd he knows how to charm, act around, fall into line with).

2) 2nd outfit change: arrives at shiz in full garment uniform wear, coat, vest, everything. he's fully prepared to play the role he's been uptaking: rich vinkun playboy prince looking to have a good time. the glimpse we had when he met elphaba is gone, no more trying to banter, moreso rehearsed flirting both glinda and fiyero know well. no one gets to see a crack in that armor.

3) 3rd outfit change: his shiz coat is open and we see his white garment underneath, a hint that yes, he's loosening up at shiz, but also matches the disagreeing expressions when dr. dillamond is taken away and the cub is kept in a cage. it's a bit of the genuine caring fiyero coming thru, who feels a bit of injustice esp bc his friend is a horse.

4) 4th outfit change: the coat is taken off and we get fiyero at his most vulnerable so far. his sleeves are rolled up as opposed to the first outfit with billowing sleeves to his wrists. and here is the most vulnerable scene between him and elphaba bc she saw right through his existentialism in dancing through life (could argue she saw a bit of him when she met him first bc she had a small smirk). he's laid completely bare and like the scene went, he had no clue how to deal w it.

5) 5th outfit change: at the train station, hes back in full uniform, bc that vulnerable moment shocked him and shook his foundations of his image/front. he maybe didnt know he had the capacity for that vulnerability until it happened and thats why hes so off kilter and shaken, starting to rethink his everything bc of elphaba. that vulnerability now persists through that uniform, his self-proclaimed image he's built up between countless schools and several dates etc. could be said that crack in the armor is visibly represented through the flower he gives to her bc it's tucked in his collar first VERSUS the musical when he runs up w a bouquet already in hand.

ALL IN ALL the move has the opportunity to tell REALLY AMAZING STORIES through the clothes/fashion, and they've really stepped up to the challenge and are making the most of it AHDJDJS so good + itches my brain

i didnt add in the dance uniform bc i forgot lmao but that plus the uniform he wears in thank goodness are also more decked out than the other stuff he wears, the cpatain uniform WAY more decorated and thats when he hides the most (dance scene he is fully in his element, he can hide safely in that playboy persona). cant wait to see all of that disappear in as long as youre mine HAHDJDJSS

[a-substantial-trash-pile]

mouthwashing responsibility au rambles below cut 🫡

(spoiler warning for the actual game obviously)

- even though jimmy got deservedly knocked out by anya and thrown into the cryopod early on, the crash still does happen. it's a freak accident this time, like maybe a piece of space debris just happened to hurtle right into them without time to dodge. it's like the tulpar is destined to crash. but this time it's a story about a group of people finding hope and strength in each other and finding what they themselves can be capable of in a time of crisis. btw i just mean curly, anya, swansea, and daisuke. i am NOT repenting jimmy. he ain't "fixing" shit.

- i'm sorry for frying curly again even though this is supposed to be an au with a happier ending 😭 the way his loss of autonomy reflects anya's own loss of it, making him feel firsthand the suffering she went through in a way, felt too important to just remove. curly's injuries aren't as terrible as in the original timeline since swansea rescued him earlier. and by "not as terrible" i mean he only loses a leg and not all of his limbs. he will get some function in his hands eventually and anya teaches him sign language to help him communicate (she teaches the others too).

- speaking of anya, she really shows her stuff as a nurse (even in the original timeline she does, managing to keep curly alive like that). she treats curly and swansea and is much more of a pillar of strength for the crew than she herself realizes. pre-crash and post-jimmy-getting-fired, she was able to relax and open up more with everyone, building a stronger bond. when the crash happens, anya is of course terrified and hella stressed, but now she knows she has people who have her back, and it helps. she can be more confident in herself without a certain someone being there to belittle and hurt her. this time when she has to deal with something difficult, something traumatizing, she has people to support her. in this au, she is not pregnant because if she was, i don't see how keeping the baby would be a good thing for her. and i don't want her to have to deal with that situation without the proper medical supplies on top of everything else. she's been through enough.

- btw there is no shipping in this au. i personally really don't see how it could happen between anyone on the crew. if there was some sort of spark between anya and curly, it's definitely gone now and won't happen again. the most they'll be are friends (although the friendship/trust will have to be built from the ground up again after everything that's happened with jimmy). the only ship here is the tulpar.

- i know daisuke is seen as a "dumb kid" but i really don't think that's the case. we are seeing him thru jimmy's perspective mostly after all and jimmy is the definition of an unreliable narrator. i headcanon daisuke as having adhd like me who tends to lose focus on tasks easily because your brain is just going 102929 miles a minute and wandering to all sorts of places like me. he feels like someone who doesn't exactly know where they want to go in life like me. also he's definitely a hawaii kid born and raised and talks pidgin sometimes like me except i lost the pidgin :(. i'm totally not projecting my asian ass on the asian boy or anything. BUT ANYWAY i wanted to give daisuke more stuff to do and a chance to prove to himself that he can do these things, he can step up. so that's partially why i made swansea burn his hands rescuing curly. daisuke can now be filled with Determination and be swansea's hands in repairing things as he heals. it's going to be hard and it's going to be frustrating for both parties and sometimes they'll get upset at each other. but it will inevitably be a great bonding experience for the two. i cannot resist the call for more father-son moments.

- swansea my beloved. i am so sorry for burning your beautiful hands please forgive 😔🙏 i have to make my faves suffer a little. swansea's hands will heal up eventually and he'll be able to use them again, but there will be scars. i think him having to guide daisuke with doing repairs n stuff on the ship as his hands recover gives him a mission. something to distract him from completely falling into despair and alcoholism. that man is hanging on by a thread but by god he's going to help get these kids through this. they've all grown closer since jimmy was sacked and swansea feels a sort of responsibility towards protecting anya, daisuke and curly as the oldest one there. it's the dad instincts y'know? on the real hard days, sometimes swansea thinks about cracking open a bottle of mouthwash, but he holds back because he feels he needs to stay strong for the crew. however he does have to learn that he can't shoulder everything and that he can rely on others. him having no choice but to have daisuke take over his tasks is a good way for him to learn that, i think. swansea is definitely a pillar of strength in this and the rest of the crew have a lot of affection for him (and vice versa even if swansea won't admit it). can you tell i really like swansea. he is such a foil to jimmy—a guy who has fucked up a lot in his life but actually acknowledges his mistakes and is trying his hardest to be a better person. aghh swansea i love you 💛💛

- after the crash happens, the cryopod room becomes inaccessible, so nobody is able to check on the state of jimmy in there. so they don't see that the crypod he's in eventually fails from damage and he escapes. this happens a couple weeks into the crash. jimmy is still pissed about everything and still can't see how he's done anything wrong (this is because he is a delusional asshole). in fact, he feels like he's the one who's been wronged and betrayed by everyone on the crew and he wants revenge. there will be a final confrontation between jimmy and the crew. spoilers: jimmy loses. i'm just undecided on who finishes it. it would be fitting if anya shot him, but i'm not sure that's something she'd necessarily want to do. she chose to be in the medical field after all. don't get me wrong, i think she would pull the trigger if it meant protecting the others. but i'd hate to have her kill, because even if jimmy deserves it, anya is a healer and would still probably feel guilty about it. i don't want to put even more shit on her plate. so i think swansea is the one to put jimmy down in the end. with the axe of course. i think he'd feel less guilty about doing it because it's something he's wanted to do since anya first told him about jimmy. oooh what if jimmy gets his hands on the gun, but daisuke tackles him, making him drop it, and anya gets it and shoots jimmy in the shoulder or leg or something to get him off of daisuke, and then swansea comes in with the axe to finish him off. that could be fun. that way anya won't have to actually kill but she'll still get to shoot jimmy. bless.

- the crew gets rescued eventually, but it's going to be a few months because pony express is a nightmare company. i'm honestly still not sure if pony express is even the one who will rescue them or even bother to look. i'm tempted to just have another ship happen across them by some miracle and help. real tempted to make that ship The Unreliable and turn this into a Mouthwashing x The Outer Worlds crossover quite honestly since both settings share similarities (megacorporations, cryosleep, etc). but idk. it's not like i can just write a fanfic or anything since writing is harder for me and who knows how long it will be before i even draw the idea. it's just yet another self-indulgent daydream for now.

[its-avalon-08]

hi !! can you do headcanons max verstappen X senna’s daugther!reader?

thank uuuu

hii !!! if i were to imagine senna's daughter!reader she would be so talented. she isn't a driver because of her built up trauma. (im fully aware that the timelines don't add up, don't add logic into it <3) she is an aerodynamic engineer, mainly responsible for making the car. she is secretly in love with speed and racing.

max and y/n met when they were just kids. max was a menace on track and y/n was terrified of racing. she saw speeding cars as a reminder of her father's passing. being good friends, y/n has a tradition of kissing max's helmet as a feeble attempt to keep him safe.

they started dating in 2019, and have been together ever since. y/n being the absolute genius she is, continues to work in redbull and delivers top of the line car designs leading to the dominance as seen on track.

max leaves a single, perfect red tulip on y/n's desk every race weekend, a silent promise to return safely.

y/n hides little notes in max's helmet before qualifying, each one a technical insight phrased like a love letter.

max, despite his aversion to early mornings, wakes up before y/n on important presentations to make her breakfast, his way of calming her pre-work jitters.

y/n, who finds airplanes stressful, uses a calming app max downloaded for her whenever they travel together.

max, after a particularly grueling race weekend, finds y/n curled up on the couch with a book about aerodynamics. he joins her, listening intently as she explains a new concept she's been working on, his full attention the sweetest victory lap.

max knows how deeply the lack of a father figure affected her, causing under-confidence and a constant need of validation. max knows this and never stops giving her words of affirmations.

everyone of the grid adores y/n. they see her spirit and her beautiful face reflect senna's in so many ways. max is fiercely protective of y/n, often defending her from questions about her father and his death.

y/n hates jos verstappen from the bottom of her heart. she is not scared of yelling at him when he berates max. she whispers affirmations into max's ears after a bad race (which was rare but not impossible)

when max crashes, y/n is the first to suffer from the highest intensity of a panic attack. she shivers and trembles until max gets out safely. after the crash in 2021 with hamilton which caused max to fall over in the medical center, y/n angirly stormed towards the cheerful hamilton, shouting angrily.

here's what happened ↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓

the smile evaporated as y/n marched towards him. it wasn't a walk, it was a storm surge. "congratulations? you call pushing max off the track at 200 mph congratulations?" her voice, usually calm and collected, was a tightly leashed fury. lewis blinked, his smile morphing into something defensive. "it was a racing incident, y/n. we both went for the corner." her voice cracked. "racing incident? you call leaving him stranded on the gravel, risking his life, a racing incident? do you have any idea what it's like to watch someone you love walk away from a fireball?" the room held its breath. lewis's face paled. "y/n, i…" "no, you don't," she cut him off, her voice thick with emotion. "you don't get to pretend you know what it's like to see your dreams vanish in a cloud of smoke. you don't get to understand the terror of every single corner, every single race because you haven't lost anyone on this damn track!" tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the accusing stare she fixed on him. "max is more than a rival, lewis. he's a friend, a teammate, a human being. and today, you gambled with his life for a trophy." the silence stretched, suffocating. finally, lewis spoke, his voice devoid of its usual bravado. "y/n, i… i didn't…" "you didn't think," she finished the sentence for him, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "just like some people never think about the consequences of their actions." turning on her heel, she stormed out of the room, leaving behind a stunned silence and a champion stripped of his celebratory air. as y/n reached the red bull garage, she found max emerging from the medical center, a sheepish grin on his face. relief washed over her, so strong it brought her to her knees. max rushed to her side, his concern a warm balm on her raw emotions. he held her close, whispering reassurances into her hair.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

well i hope you liked it! thank you for sending in your request and do send more <3 happy reading!

leave a like! leave a note!

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

[elysianightsss]

ANAESTHESIA | PART TWO

Simon had short circuited. He was sure someone would need to rewire him to work again. He was frozen. You, his Bonnie. The Bonnie to his Clyde, stood there all made up like you had been born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You hadn’t. Was your hair always that colour? He’d pushed you so far into the back of his head to forget his precious Bonnie that he couldn’t remember. Fuck, how could he not remember? But then again, he didn’t think he needed to remember. He never thought he’d see you again.

Yet here you were.

John was the first out of his seat, the quickest any of the guys had seen him move as he sped after you. You had shyly thanked everyone for the lovely welcome and basically jogged over to the neurology department, stepping inside the lift. As you went to press the button for level five John had slipped in right next to you.

You blinked, a stutter on the tip of your tongue that never seemed to make it out of your mouth as John began to speak, “Well isn’t this a lovely coincidence.” He grinned around his mutton chops and you took note of how much he hadn’t changed. Years it had been and yet you couldn’t find a single difference like he hadn’t aged one bit. Like how Hugh Jackman always looked the same whenever he played Wolverine.

“John. I,” you paused thinking what to say, it was a shock to see him here. When you had slept with him you didn’t know he was a doctor let alone what hospital he worked at but then again you didn’t even know his last name. “Have you been well?” Good, simple and nice. Not stupid like, ‘you’re still smoking hot.’

The well built man had his body angled toward you, a smile on his lips, the crows feet around his eyes wrinkled a little as he smiled at you, something you cursed as it made him that much more attractive. “Are you married?” He asks completely ignoring your question.

“No.” You frown.

“A boyfriend then?” His ocean eyes don’t move from yours, hands slipping into his trouser pockets.

“No.” You answer honestly but can’t help but be confused, even more so when he nods, moving towards the doors that have just opened, stepping out and turning towards you.

“Okay then.” He winks at you just before the lift doors shut leaving you staring at your own reflection. Your cheeks were flushed and your heart pulsing quickly.

You didn’t even press a button for a level to get off on.

You made it to your office, 5B on the door in silver block letters as you walked in. The room had two desks opposite each other and a bunk bed right at the back, standard for those quick five minute naps on sixteen or more hour shifts.

The top bunk looked used, the blanket all tousled and the pillow with a dent where someone’s head definitely was. The desk to the right had a mini hulk action figure with a kilt on it. The sight made you freeze a little. You remember a similar one from way back when you first started medical school.

Now what was his name again?

“Never thought I’d see you again, lass.” You whipped around, shocked eyes locking with his. He didn’t look amused the way John did, he looked a little cold and accusing something you certainly didn’t like.

“Johnny, you work here too?” You gulp at the thought of both your one night stand and your old friends with benefits being around you on a day to day basis.

“Too?” His eyes narrowed even more if that were even possible, he definitely managed to do it.

“Nevermind.” You stand there awkward. It was awkward. Johnny used to be your closest confidant. He was your best friend who you started having sex with when medical school got too stressful. You were drunk when you first brought the idea up, you had no idea he’d remember the conversation let alone agree to it.

The first night you did it, it was just as awkward as the position you were in now. The air was tight and your bodies were taut. Slowly after a few weeks you both found your rhythm, a few months and you had both memorized everything about one another. Especially Johnny, he made it his mission to commit every little moan, jolt, whimper to his memory. A stain on his brain that he loved.

And he did love it, loved going from roommates to best friends to, in his mind, lovers.

Though when he shared that with you, a drunken confession just like yours, your heart stopped in your chest. You hadn’t loved anyone since your high school sweetheart and you didn’t think you’d ever love anyone ever again after he shattered your heart into a million pieces. You even tried with Kyle but it didn’t work out and you ended up losing your friend.

So when Johnny confessed his love for you and practically begged you to come home with him for the holidays to meet his parents you freaked. Told him no and that whatever was between you clearly had to stop if that’s the way he felt. He cried, you felt awful, holding him while he sobbed in your arms. Silent tears slipping down your cheeks while you planned your next steps.

After a distraught and exhausted Johnny fell asleep you rushed to pack your things. Calling a friend to help you get everything out fast and quiet. You’d had enough sad goodbyes and horrible fights, you didn’t need another one.

When Johnny woke up you were gone.

“I guess this is your office too then.” You mustered up all the confidence you could and placed it on your face pushing away the feelings of embarrassment. Moving over to the desk you had been assigned according to the welcome pack with your name on, on it.

Johnny didn’t reply, walking into the room with a scowl and sitting down at his desk. He began typing away ignoring you. Sighing you opened the pack, sitting down yourself, begging your eyes not to look over at him but they were desperate to. Instead you forced them to roam over the words of the booklet in your hands, until they started blurring together.

Simon sat down in his office chair, Kyle across the desk from him sat crossed legged in one of the two chairs for guests. They looked so welcoming but anyone in the hospital knew whoever sat in that chair was due for a bollocking. Not Kyle though.

With his head in his hands, Simon sighed. “I suppose this is where I give you some advice, but honestly I’m stumped.” Kyle says, choking out a little nervous laugh.

“I don’t need advice,” Simon spat, “I need a fuckin’ miracle.” Looking up with a miserable face even when Kyle laughs. “You’re no better off!” Simon spits again suddenly defensive at how laid back Kyle seemed at the situation.

“Our split was mutual,” Kyle shrugged, “and honestly I think I was more hurt than she was. Yours on the other hand…” Kyle trails off pointing at his friend casually and then sliding his finger along his neck mimicking a throat being sliced.

“It was almost eight years ago now,” Simon pauses thinking wow, it was almost eight years since he’d last seen you, “You really think she’s still upset?”

Kyle hums in thought before answering genuinely, “Knowing how fucked up she was after finding you with that girl, I wouldn’t put it past her if she was still the same way now.” Hearing that, Simon cringes his nose scrunching up. Kyle told him all about how you had been affected by his actions. He almost took pride in watching Simon’s reaction to the news.

Kyle had to play the caring best friend for years, always by your side whenever you and Simon had a fight, always knowing he could treat you better. Simon never appreciated what he had with you, how you worshipped the ground he walked on, how you made so many compromises for him, sacrificing your happiness for him and never receiving anything in return.

And no matter how many times Kyle told you to leave him, you didn’t. You gave Simon the benefit of the doubt until you walked in on him fucking the girl he told you not to worry about. No remorse in his eyes as they locked onto your tear filled ones.

You told Kyle all about the giggle of the girl as you fled from the scene. You sobbed, just like Johnny had, in Kyle’s arms with a broken heart. Simon never tried to contact you after, he just accepted what he had done and didn’t beg for your forgiveness knowing you wouldn’t give it.

Kyle was the one who encouraged you to ask for your stuff back, which Kyle also offered to be the one that went and picked it up. You were so grateful to him, he was such a sweetheart. In Kyle’s eyes he finally had his chance to be with you and he wasn’t going to fuck it up.

But after Simon you couldn’t trust him. Tried to but didn’t love him. Your heart was broken in a way that even now it was put back together, it was crooked. A crack still scarred there. Right down the middle.

A few months into Kyle’s RNDA he was asked to come to Infinity Hospital to continue his apprenticeship. Being the best hospital in the country he immediately accepted only to see Simon there. Simon was training to become a surgeon at that point, he was shocked to say the least when he say Kyle, a blast from the past. They pretty much ignored each other until a work night out a few months after.

Tipsy, they both talked things out. Kyle point blank said he couldn’t forget what Simon had done to you but he could try and forgive him as they worked together. The more time they spent together the closer they became. Now known as the closest friends in the hospital.

“Fuck this is gonna be awkward.” Simon groaned realising he had asked you to come to his office last night. “Shit okay.” He shook his head trying to get himself into the right headspace, if there even was a right one.

You’d basically ran away from your joint office with Johnny to your meeting with Simon. If that’s what you’d even call it. Out of the frying pan and into the volcano. And just as Simon and Kyle had joked, it was very awkward. You stared at him the way Johnny had stared at you, though there was a certain type of numbness on your face where Johnny’s had been openly emotional.

“Please have a seat.” Simon gestured to the chairs opposite his desk.

“No.” You reply.

Simon fought against his mouth for a moment so the old nickname he used to have for you didn’t slip out. “Doctor-“

“Before you spout a bunch of nonsense, I couldn’t wait. You’ll know that when you see the record.”

Simon smirked, “So you didn’t just do it because you wanted to show off on your first day of work?”

“Don’t pretend you know me.” You snap, harsh and unforgiving. It had Simon straightening up in his chair. “You’ll find out at the conference that the patient needed an emergency surgery.”

“We’ll see.” His face drops, a seriousness taking over, “If you performed the surgery when there was enough time to wait-“

“Wait for the emergency on-call doctor to actually be on site?” You tilt your head, the corner of your lips curving up a little when he sighs.

“You’ll have to take responsibility for your actions.” Simon continues as though you never spoke.

“Oh don’t worry,” you laugh, “I always take responsibility for my actions.” His mouth opens, eyes blinking, an unsteady air building around him. “And when it gets proven that the emergency surgery was necessary, you’ll need to apologise to me.” You give him the fakest smile you can muster up.

“Apologise to you?” He frowns.

“I’m not under your guidance and you weren’t on site at the time of the emergency. Personally I think you’re out of line.” You scoff. “I guess you’ll just have to find out tomorrow.” You turn around and pull the door open before throwing over your shoulder, “You haven’t changed a bit Si.” Before walking out.

Simon lets out a deep breath. You were cold, rude and had you always been that beautiful?

To be continued…

Tags | @6jack6rabbit6 @misscaller06 @daydreamsareallineed @tabbslouuformer

[f1cflcfic]

The Prophecy (SMAU ft. Lando Norris): Epilogue

pairing: lando norris x singer!reader (fem!y/n)

summary: what happens after the break-up that noone saw coming? as Y/N L/N gears up to release her next album, each song reveals a little bit of the past, present and future of her relationship with Lando Norris. Inspired by a curated playlist built around "The Prophecy".

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons. also, this chapter contains some (implicit) references to sex.

genre: social media au (with written parts), angst, exes to lovers, happy ending

[A/N: hehe it's never really over, this is for my bff who just got engaged over the weekend <3]

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥

June, 2027

[Excerpt from Y/N L/N's Buzzfeed Playing with Puppies Interview]

Y/N is sitting down on the floor, enthusiastically chatting to someone off camera. “Listen Roz I’m so serious, you’re going to have to physically incapacitate me when I want to take them all home. It will happen, and you will need to stop me.”

Someone from the crew giggles, as they instruct Y/N to readjust her lavalier microphone.

“Alright, so it’s super easy – you just sit there, and we bring the pups to you!”

“Oh my god. This is my dream. I always say to my friends that I’d just really love to be in a puppy pile, and it’s finally happening. The pinnacle of my career. This is why I became a singer,” she chatters, then gasps as the first puppies are brought out.

“Oh hiiii,” she almost whimpers at the sight of them, some a little more active, others a little sleepy. One immediately snuggles into her lap, and Y/N looks off-camera to someone meaningfully. “I am taking him home.” Someone can be heard laughing and saying “no, you can’t” in response, to which Y/N sighs in defeat.

“So, can you tell us who you are, and what you do”

“My name’s Y/N L/N, and I’m a singer-songwriter. But today I’m a professional puppy cuddle buddy.”

“Here’s your first question – you mentioned recording a song in Taylor Swift’s studio for the Prophecy. What does it look like?”

“Oh my – oh they smell so good I swear, I’m so sorry I didn’t hear a word you said.” The interviewer repeats the question, as Y/N tries really hard to maintain eye contact with them instead of the puppies roaming around her.

“It’s a really beautiful space, a sanctuary, really. And it’s just amazing to think that so many iconic songs and albums have been partially written and recorded there as well. Taylor is a wonderful friend to have in this industry, and – oh just look at this little guy. He’s so cute!!!”

“Second question: You’re in the middle of a world tour right now. What was your own first tour that you remember going to?”

“Oh look at this one, he’s just playing around, such a little goofball. Sorry, sorry – the question. My first concert? You know it was probably some type of children’s act? My parents aren’t super into music, so the first time I went to see someone and paid for the ticket myself, it was probably Taylor actually.”

“Third question: You said you’re into reading. What’s your latest recommendation?”

“I try to read, yeah! It’s so easy to get sucked into my phone, but I always bring books and an e-reader. Oof, careful little guy, those tiny teeth are sharp,” she disentangles her finger from a puppy’s mouth, then hugs him close to her chest and kisses his head. “I love you, don’t worry. So, yeah, what was I saying? I think with reading I’m always in two minds about it. I enjoy literary fiction, but I also love fantasy. So I recently started There Are Rivers in the Sky from Elif Shafak, and then I’ve been re-reading the Fourth Wing series by Rebecca Yarros. Love that dragon. Maybe we should name you Tairn, or Xaden,” Y/N points at a puppy with dark fur and brown eyes.

“Do they all have names already? All of them are up for adoption, right? But surely these personalities – ah okay. His name’s Lewis?” She smiles cheekily, but doesn't comment further.

One of the dogs lets out a pitiful little whine, and Y/N immediately looks down. “What’s up little pup? Are you unhappy? Can we get them some water, some snacks?”

Someone steps in with a bowl of water, then asks the next question. “What’s something you do to relax on your days off?”

“Hmm aside from reading? Honestly, I love to just hang out with my family. Go do minigolf, something fun together.”

“Not actual golf?”

Y/N snorts, her fingers absentmindedly petting the puppies that have since fallen asleep in her lap. “My partner has tried to get me into it, and I love how much he enjoys it, but it’s not for me. So I’ll happily drive the golf cart and cheer him on instead.”

“Are you not competitive?”

You scrunch your nose at the word. “I think I am, but I’m more scared of others thinking I’m not good enough – so then I abandon serious pursuit of victory. If it’s just a laugh, then it’s fine if you’re not great at something. It’s something I’m working on!”

She kisses one of the pups that’s woken up from its nap on his tiny nose. “I love you, you, you’re such a tiny little angel aren’t you?”

“Alright, next question: If you were in an emergency situation, who would you call to bail you out?”

“Probably Lando. He’d be fast, you know?” Y/N smiles at the camera. “By the way, he’s going to be SO jealous of me for getting to hang out with pups all day.”

“If you weren’t a singer-songwriter, what do you think you’d be doing?”

“Hmm, I’d probably have gone to university – maybe literature, or maybe political science. Then I’d go work for an NGO? I’d love to know I was making a difference in people’s lives I think.”

“Last question – what are you most looking forward to?”

“Aside from the new, upgraded tour? I can’t believe I’ll be playing stadiums. That feels very surreal. Apart from that, we’re getting some renovations done on the house right now and I’m super excited to see my library fantasy come to life. I want to have a ladder on wheels.”

You quietly stroke the fur of a red and white puppy that’s been curled up in your lap since the beginning. “I’m going to cry having to give these back. But I’m going to, I will. It’d be irresponsible to adopt a dog right now, maybe next year we’ll get on that. Please, if you are able and willing, adopt these sweet little puppies – and I will personally come by and hangout with your pup and you.”

The screen fades to black, and then there’s a shaky camera that follows Y/N as she laughs while talking on the phone. “I know! I said you would,” she’s overheard saying. “There’s one in particular, I just – ” she trails off, listening to whatever’s being said on the other end of the line. “Do you really think so?” Her smile widens. “I love you so much, you have no idea,” she nods excitedly at her assistant and starts walking towards the animal shelter representative. “Yeah I’ll keep you posted, say hi from me to your brother and Sav please. Ok, see you. Bye.”  

August 14th, 2027

December 8th, 2027

June 18th, 2028

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥

You can read the previous parts & access various bonus content by going here

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[thorns-and-rosewings]

(Behold what happens when I have ideas that far surpass my skill level... ^^; Here we have tall-ish Lunar, roughly Bloodmoon height, only taller if his hat gets counted. And this universes versions of the Gemini twins)

Okay so this needs some explaining; this here is Asylum AU's version of Lunar and the Gemini twins. I didn't put their information on my last post about this AU because:

A. I genuinely enjoy these guys little side tale so much I wanted to attempt to give a good visual to go along with their bit.

B. I thought it was long enough already.

So I'm gonna write their whole little bit below, as with everything I write it's gonna be LONG, but hopefully a fun read.

Enjoy ^_^

.

Lunar: As with all this universe's characters, he started off life built by Eclipse to assist him... But the main difference was that this Lunar was treated infinitely better than our Canon Lunar was right from the get go. Not to mention that he had his Star Power right from the beginning as well...

How did he have that you may ask?

Simple... Doc Eclipse acquired some meteorites that contained an unknown alloy. And he genuinely went 'What the hell, why not?' and used it to build Lunar's body. Which apparently contained some residual Star Power and thus, this Lunar has his powers.

Right from the beginning, Lunar didn't want to fight with Sun and Moon and he began trying desperately to get everyone to stop fighting. So to make a very long story short, eventually, he was successful in getting the fighting to actually stop because Sun and Moon grew to care about Lunar like a brother. Although the fighting didn't stop until there was significant damage done to the motor control of Eclipse's left leg... There's an uneasy peace between the two halves of Lunar's family as the result of this.

Free to choose what he wanted to do with his life, Lunar took his love for games to the next level and started a gaming company. (But also made Beanbag chairs as well) Lunar's commitment and genuine love of the games that the company made reflected in their products and it didn't take long before Lunar's company not only became successful, but a MAJOR name in gaming.

By the time Asylum AU starts, Lunar's gaming company, Starfall Games, (The logo being the blue star emblem Lunar is creating and has on his clothes) is considered the number one gaming company in the world. Their claim to fame is their games quality. As they have never once released a game with any major bugs. Lunar is a very good boss and although he demands a great deal from his employees, but he is never unreasonable. And he regularly rewards his staff who go above and beyond.

He's a tough, but fair boss.

Lunar owns a huge tower in the middle of the city, which he lives in. It's so advanced it would make Tony Stark jealous. He lives in the penthouse on the upper stories while the lower stories contain the main headquarters for his gaming company. His tower is seemingly crafted from obsidian, with neon blue lights running throughout it. The dress code for the staff actually follows a similar theme, with everyone wearing bright seemingly neon colors. Or have some sort of celestial, space or star theming.

Lunar's powers in this area also 98% mastered, with the problem 2% to be addressed in a bit. Like Canon Lunar, he has electricity. But this version, rather than weather powers, his focuses on electricity, lightning and electro plasma. He actually powers his entire tower with his abilities and is in negotiations with the city to possibly power the entirety of that as well in the near future. His lightning powers are incredibly deadly if used in combat, but fortunately he next to never needs to use them offensively. In the rare instances he does need to fight, he is skilled enough to actually manipulate the electrical currents in a human body and essentially short-circuit a human temporarily. It's even more potent against animatronics.

But it's his plasma powers that he is actually the most fond of, as he's so skilled with wielding them that he can literally craft various things out of the plasma and then dissolve them on a whim. He can literally create tiles or stairs that allow him to walk in the sky. It's not uncommon to see him stroll across the sky near his tower at any given time...

But his favorite thing by far to create is his Plasma Cycle. Essentially a futuristic Tron-esque motorcycle that can reach nearly unfathomable speeds and drive over every type of terrain and even drive in the sky with him creating a plasma road below and in front of the bike to drive on.

(Essentially like this but in a brilliant blue)

Ultimately this Lunar has a very good grasp on things, but there are still some... Drawbacks...

Lunar didn't get to where he is in life without having to deal with A LOT of shit. With the one thing he has grown to value THE MOST in people is loyalty and honesty. He has endured many betrayals and been in the midst of liars and he finds people who partake in these negative things to be the lowest of the low.

He's not crazy and understands small lies and fibs can be understandable, even necessary. As he regularly lies about how good his Suns homemade 'Mint Sugar Cookies' are... They're damn near inedible, have the texture of a mix of toothpaste and sand, but nobody has the heart to tell Sun.

Aaaand then there's his family and that often deeply uncomfortable situation...

The thing Lunar loves the most, more than his company or anything else, is his family. His deepest wish and desire is for them all to stop hating each other and get along. Which is the one thing he wishes for every year on his birthday, when he invites everyone to either his home, or another location to spend the day together...

And every year without fail...

It's a total disaster...

It would seem Moon and Eclipse, in spite of their love of Lunar... They can't not fight for even a single frickin hour. They will fight, Sun will cry, Solar Flare will try to make peace, Bloodmoon stays the hell out of it, aaaand things proceed to fall apart before they can even have dinner. Let alone cake...

Every year Lunar just endures this. His heart breaking a little more each time... A tiny part of him wondering if he means so little to his siblings that they can't just get along for him for just a few hours. But, he just buries it and smiles and says that next year will be different. The stress of his family fighting is the only thing that can cause him to lose a grip on his powers. Sometimes leading him to short out an area and have to pay a hefty bill to repair the place he accidentally wrecks.

...fortunately he has his best friends, Castor and Pollux, by his side whenever these nightmares happen...

...the two people he trusts most of all...

...yeaaaah...

.

Castor and Pollux: In this dimension, the Gemini twins were drawn to the bizarre Star Power usage on this planet, eventually tracking it to Lunar when he was at his company. And they came with literal perfect timing, as Lunar had just started wandering through some of the floors of his company and they just appeared there.

One thing about this Lunar is that he is more than a little... Oblivious...

So oblivious in fact that he didn't notice the two clearly inhuman beings in his presence. But, to be fair, his companies dress code could have allowed a normal person to make such a mistake for maybe the first time... Not consistently every day for several years.

Now Lunar was in work mode, so he was wandering through the halls and checking in while being flanked by these two who were trying to talk to him. All while he initially thought they were just trying to pitch an idea to him, something that happens a lot. But as they continued to dog him, (And growing more frustrated at Lunar brushing them off) It finally occurred to Lunar that their behavior wasn't like someone trying to pitch a game idea... And then it dawned on him...

They had to be the new assistant the agency sent over...

Although why would the agency send two people and not just one?

Castor, decently annoyed by everything going on and seeing the opportunity to at least get the information that they need, doesn't exactly lie pre say... he merely says that they are there to 'Observe and offer help as need be.' And how they were a two-for-one deal.

Lunar just shrugged and went with it...

So over the course of the next few years, Castor and Pollux are by Lunar's side nearly constantly. They had to learn a fair bit about games and paperwork, but fortunately they are incredibly fast at learning and adapting. So they went from just being the assistants that Lunar admittedly went through fairly quickly... As a lot of them got too comfortable and got a bit powermad having access to the bosses attention. The two Astrals not only became invaluable in helping Lunar with his day to day responsibilities, but also became his closest companions and friends. To the point that they literally moved into his penthouse with him, updated their respective wardrobes with more human-esque clothes (Lunar actually crocheted them their scarves and added the star logos) and they are even so joined at the hip to him that he now instinctively manifests a pair of sidecars onto his Plasma Cycle which allows his companions to join him on his fun high speed insanity.

...at first they were just doing their jobs, observing Lunar and assessing if he was a threat or not...

But after a while things drastically began to change...

Lunar had a very good handle on his abilities. Had the good sense of when to use them. But more than that... He was giving, kind and just overall a nice guy who did everything he could to bring joy and happiness to the people around him.

And he succeeded in ways he couldn't imagine...

Lunar had somehow, made Castor and Pollux feel overwhelming joy and happiness. Given that Astrals don't feel emotions like mere mortals can... It was a jarring experience when Lunar somehow brought these emotions out in them and it made them realize that they actually, genuinely, cared about Lunar. A LOT...

But given everything...

They were now stuck in a bad spot...

While they never 'technically' lied to Lunar, they sure as hell know that they haven't been honest. Telling him the truth about themselves, about the Astrals in general, star power, his powers, everything... Given how Lunar values honesty and loyalty...

Oh yeah, they know they are in deep shit...

Not just with Lunar either. As they have been deliberately misleading what involvement is required of them to the other Astrals. While stating the situation is under control, but being extremely vague about what it even is. Aaaand even doing a few things to keep their fellow Astrals distracted from asking too many questions...

...like sending Scorpio an entire industrial roll of bubble wrap for them to stab with their tail...

...Giving Aries multiple wool pillows for them to rest comfortably on while meditating and using their dream powers...

...and last but certainly not least, sending Leo a beanbag chair completely packed full of catnip...

Courtesy of these little distractions, they have managed to avert deeper questions regarding what they have been up too. Except for Taurus who is getting suspicious about what exactly is going on down on earth. The only thing that has prevented him from heading down there to see for himself is with how busy he's been trying to track Rez.

But back to things on earth; given the closeness that the siblings have with Lunar it is now understood that in the company, they now wield as much power as Lunar himself. Referred to as Lunar's right and left hands respectively. They do, subtly, lead Lunar to occasionally have days where he takes some time off to just trains his powers. Pointing out one can never have too much control over such powerful abilities... They usually convince him to do this with the promise of having a picnic and just having a day to chill and unplug from everything. They have made an effort to do this every few months ever since they witnessed one of the hellish fiascos that Lunar's birthday turned into...

That was a horror show...

Made worse by how having his whole family together for a day was the only thing Lunar could talk about for a whole week...

Pollux: (Her hands clamped over her mouth as everything just spiraled out of control. So completely stunned still)

Castor: (In disbelief and his eye twitching) What is happening here?

Bloodmoon: (Surprisingly staying out of it) Not sure. But we're about a minute away from stuffing our pockets full of shrimp and getting the hell outta here...

Everything was over in under an hour, leaving Lunar heartbroken and usually a venue wrecked. The Bloodtwins at least making sure that Lunar got home alright, to which the Gemini twins then took it upon themselves to cheer Lunar up, always being sure to have a little 'Backup Party' ready to cheer him up.

And this has just become a solemn tradition...

Lunar gets his hopes up for a happy time with all the people he loves the most, it gets ruined, the twins take him back home. They handle the incoming apologetic phone calls that follow, Castor swears at them... a lot... Then they watch movies, play games and have some ice cream cake.

And Lunar asks how he got so lucky to have them in his life...

And they feel that knife of deception twist in their proverbial hearts...

[the-reader-insert-gazette]

A Lifelong Contract - F!Reader x Zhongli

Request Column - Genshin Impact (Geo Archon Quest)

Zhongli has spent lifetimes watching the world change, bound by duty and the weight of eternity. But when Reader speaks of growing old together, he realizes—for the first time in thousands of years—that he wants to walk the same path. To be bound, not by time, but by choice.

Editor's Note: This was made as a request from a peer who wished to remain anonymous. Thank you for this lovely prompt and giving me creative freedom with it, sorry it took me so long! I hope you enjoy!

Liyue Harbor was a city of rhythm. It moved with the tide, with the clatter of ships unloading at the docks, with the rise and fall of market voices offering their wares. It was a city that hummed with life, never truly stopping, only changing pace with the time of day. But in the quieter hours, when the crowds thinned and the lanterns cast long reflections on the water, it was also a city of patience. It was a city that waited.

[Name] had learned to keep pace with it, though not in the way most people did. She didn’t rush through the streets like merchants anxious to make their coin before nightfall, nor did she wander aimlessly like a traveler marveling at the sights. She found her own rhythm—steady, deliberate. She worked, she bartered, she built.

And somehow, Zhongli had become part of that rhythm.

It had started as most things did, small and insignificant. The kind of moments that go unnoticed if one isn't paying attention. He had been a customer in her shop, another face among the many who admired the delicate craftsmanship of her glasswork. Unlike the others, though, he had not simply glanced at her wares and made a purchase. He had lingered, tracing the smooth curve of a finished piece with careful fingers, his golden eyes studying the details as though committing them to memory.

“These are well-made,” he had said, turning a small glass dragon ornament in his hand. “Your work captures the element of Geo quite well—solid, enduring, yet not without elegance.”

She had tilted her head at him then, amused. “You always talk like that?”

His gaze had lifted to meet hers, and for the briefest moment, she thought she saw a flicker of surprise—like he hadn’t expected the question. Then, he smiled.

“I suppose I do.”

From that day on, he had returned.

At first, it had seemed purely out of interest in her craft. He would stop by, ask thoughtful questions about her techniques, listen attentively as she explained the process. He had an appreciation for craftsmanship, that much was clear—an understanding that went beyond polite admiration. He noticed details that others overlooked, traced patterns in the glass with a reverence that felt almost personal.

Then, somewhere along the way, the visits became less about her work and more about… her.

She had noticed it in the way he would linger even after their conversations about glassmaking had ended. In the way he always seemed to find her when she was taking a break outside, leaning against the wooden beams of her shop with a cup of tea in hand. In the way he would appear in the market when she was there, always at ease, always ready with some quiet, insightful comment about the world around them.

It was never grand. Never obvious.

It was simply him, existing along with her.

She had once told him that she never stayed in one place for too long, that she wasn’t the kind of person who set down roots. Liyue, though, had a way of making people stay.

It had started with the city itself, with its warmth, its beauty, the way it seemed to hold its history in every stone and street. Then it had become about the people—about the familiarity of the shopkeepers she bartered with, the regulars who stopped by her workshop, the feeling of belonging that had crept up on her when she wasn’t looking.

And then, at some point, it had become about him.

She wasn’t sure when, exactly.

Maybe it was one of those quiet afternoons when they had found themselves sitting at a tea house, the world slowing around them. Or maybe it was the way he always seemed to know what to say, his words careful, deliberate, never rushed. Maybe it was the way he listened—not just to the things she said, but to the things she didn’t.

Maybe it was the way he had laughed that one time—really laughed, not just the polite chuckle she had heard before. It had been after she told him about a particularly disastrous attempt to negotiate with a merchant in Fontaine, one that had ended with her leaving empty-handed but with an entire street’s worth of people cheering her on for standing her ground.

“You are… quite remarkable,” he had said, still smiling, and something about the way he had looked at her then had made her stomach flip in a way she hadn’t been prepared for.

She hadn’t known what to do with that feeling, so she had shoved it aside, pushed forward as she always did.

But it hadn’t gone away.

It had settled there, in the spaces between them, waiting.

And slowly, steadily, it had begun to grow.

She didn’t think much about the future. She never had. It had always seemed like something distant, something that would happen when it happened. But then the thought came to her one evening during a small festival, as they walked along the harbor, watching the lanterns flicker against the darkening sky.

She thought about what it would be like to still be here, years from now. To walk these same streets, to keep working, to keep building. To have him beside her, just as he was now.

And that thought didn’t unsettle her the way it once might have.

She glanced at him, watching the way the light caught in his golden eyes, the way he seemed at peace in the stillness of the evening.

“You know,” she mused, nudging him lightly, “for someone who always talks about the past, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about the future.”

He turned his gaze toward her, thoughtful. “No, I suppose you haven’t.”

She tilted her head. “Do you ever think about it?”

A long pause. Then, finally—

“…I do.”

Something about the way he said it made her heartbeat quicken.

She opened her mouth to say something more, but before she could, the first firework of the evening went off in the distance, its golden light bursting above the harbor. She turned her head to watch it, but not before catching a glimpse of him, watching her instead of the sky.

She didn’t ask why.

And he didn’t offer.

The firework faded, its golden light swallowed by the vast stretch of the evening sky, but the hush it left behind seemed to linger between them. [Name] didn’t break it, content to let the warmth of the festival surround them as they stood by the harbor, the voices of the city carrying on without them. For a while, neither of them spoke, and yet, nothing about the silence felt uneasy.

Zhongli’s gaze remained on her a moment longer before he, too, turned toward the horizon. His hands were still folded neatly behind his back, his expression as unreadable as ever, but something about his posture felt different—thoughtful in a way that went beyond his usual musings.

She had seen that look before.

It was the same one he wore when he traced his fingers over old inscriptions on stone tablets or when he spoke of Liyue’s past with the kind of familiarity that only came from lived experience. She had always chalked it up to the way his mind worked, how he seemed to carry an endless well of knowledge that even he couldn’t quite put into words sometimes.

But now, with the golden glow of lanterns flickering in his eyes, she wondered if it was something more.

She let the thought drift away.

Instead, she nudged him lightly with her shoulder. “Come on, let’s get something to drink. All this standing around is making me feel like I should be making a toast or something.”

He blinked, as if pulled from some distant thought, before letting out a quiet chuckle. “A toast, you say?”

“Well, yeah,” she said, already starting toward the tea house at the edge of the harbor. “It’s a festival, isn’t it? If you’re not eating or drinking, you’re doing it wrong.”

He followed, and though his smile was small, it lingered.

It became a habit, after that.

She wasn’t sure when exactly it started—maybe it had been that night, or maybe it had been happening all along without her noticing—but Zhongli became an unspoken fixture in her life. Their walks through the harbor grew longer, their conversations stretching into the night until the streets grew quiet. When she worked late into the evening, she’d sometimes find him waiting outside her shop, two cups of tea in hand, as though he had known without asking that she would need a break.

He never lingered past his welcome, never overstepped, and yet he was always there, as steady as the tides.

And she… she found herself gravitating toward him in turn.

It was never something they talked about, never something they put a name to, but it was there, woven into the spaces between their words, into the brush of hands reaching for the same teacup, into the way he always seemed to instinctively fall into step beside her, no matter where they were.

And yet, despite all of it, Zhongli remained careful.

[Name] noticed it in the way he would hesitate just a fraction of a second before touching her, the way he would sometimes look at her as though he were about to say something but would instead let the words settle unsaid. He was never cold—far from it—but there was a certain deliberateness to his every action, as though he was holding himself at the edge of something neither of them had spoken aloud.

She didn’t press.

Whatever this was—whatever it had become—she was content to let it be.

But Zhongli… Zhongli was thinking.

It was not something he could ignore, not when it sat at the forefront of his mind with each passing day.

He had lived for thousands of years, watched the world shift and change in ways mortals could never comprehend. He had stood where mountains had yet to rise, had spoken with those whose names had long since been swallowed by time. Mortality was something he understood, something he had always respected, but never something he had felt bound by.

But now, it was different.

Now, it was standing beside him, laughing at his old stories, pulling him through crowded streets with an easy familiarity, tucking her feet beneath her on the tea house bench and humming absentmindedly as he spoke.

Now, it had a name.

[Name] did not know the weight of the years that stretched behind him, did not know the things he had seen, the battles he had fought, the gods he had called his peers. To her, he was simply Zhongli, a man with an old soul and a tendency to over-explain things.

And for the first time in a long, long while, he found himself reluctant to correct that assumption.

But that did not change the truth.

She would live, and she would age.

And he would remain.

There would come a day—sooner than he wished, far sooner than he was prepared for—when time would begin to take its toll. He would watch as the years softened her movements, as the lines on her face grew deeper, as the vibrance of youth gave way to something slower, something more fragile.

And when that day came, when she looked at him with eyes that had grown old while his remained unchanged, what would he say?

Would he tell her then? Would he wait until she had begun to notice the difference, until she began to wonder why he never changed, why he never spoke of his past beyond vague recollections? Would he let her live her life never knowing?

Would it be a kindness? Or a cruelty?

He did not know.

All he knew was that for the first time, the passing of time felt like something looming, rather than something distant.

And for the first time, he was afraid of what it might take from him.

The tea house was quiet, tucked away from the bustling streets of Liyue Harbor, its warm lantern light flickering against dark wood. The scent of osmanthus lingered in the air, curling in delicate wisps from the cups between them.

[Name] swirled the tea in her cup absentmindedly, watching as Zhongli poured himself another, his movements practiced, careful. It had been a year since they met—since he first stepped into her workshop and admired her glasswork. She hadn’t thought much of it then, just another customer, another passerby, but now, sitting across from him in their quiet corner of the world, she knew better.

He had remembered today. She hadn’t. Not at first. It had only dawned on her when he had arrived at her shop earlier that evening, a bouquet of Glaze Lilies in hand. He hadn’t said anything about them outright—just placed them on her workbench with a soft, “I thought you might like these,” before suggesting tea.

She had smiled, taken them without questioning, but now, watching him across the table, she found herself turning the thought over.

"You really remembered the day we met?" she asked, breaking the comfortable quiet between them.

Zhongli glanced up from his tea. "Of course."

"Not exactly a holiday," she teased, smirking. "You keep track of the first time you meet everyone?"

His lips curved slightly. "Mostly, yes, but especially of those who leave a lasting impression."

Her teasing smile softened as she rested her chin on her palm, tilting her head as she studied him. "What else do you remember?"

Zhongli set his teacup down, fingers curling lightly around the rim. "You were skeptical of me," he said, voice tinged with amusement.

[Name] laughed. "Yeah, you acted like you’d never seen glass before. You held onto that dragon sculpture for so long I thought you were about to recite poetry to it."

He exhaled a quiet chuckle. "It was… an impressive piece of craftsmanship. It still is."

She smirked, but her voice was softer when she spoke again. "That was a good day."

Zhongli nodded. "Yes, it was."

The quiet settled between them again, but this time, it carried something heavier. [Name] let the weight of it sit for a moment before finally exhaling, setting her cup down and leaning forward.

"Alright, I think that's enough reminiscing," she said, her tone light but her gaze steady. "There's been something on my mind that I want to talk about."

Zhongli tilted his head slightly, waiting.

"You," she started, fingers tapping against the table, "are a hard man to read."

His lips twitched, almost amused. "Am I?"

"Don’t act so surprised." She narrowed her eyes playfully. "We’ve been—" she gestured vaguely between them, "—this for a while now, and yet, I still feel like you’re always holding something back."

His fingers stilled against his cup.

She wasn’t angry, nor was she demanding answers from him. Her voice was steady, as was her gaze. But there was a quiet honesty to her words, the kind that left no room for him to dance around the subject.

"[Name]," he started, his tone careful.

But she cut him off with a shake of her head. "Look, I’m not asking for some grand declaration, alright? I just—I think about the future. A lot more than I used to."

His brows furrowed slightly, but he said nothing.

She exhaled slowly. "I think about growing old. About the things I’ll do, the places I’ll see. And when I picture it, you’re always there." She let out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head. "You, sitting across from me at some teahouse just like this, telling me stories I’ve already heard a hundred times but still pretending they’re new just to humor you."

Zhongli’s chest tightened.

She continued, her voice growing softer. "I think about you being the last person I see when my time’s up. About hearing your voice at the end of it all and thinking, yeah, I did alright." She huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. "That’s a bit much, isn’t it?"

He should have expected this from her. She had always been forward, never one to leave things unsaid. But still, the weight of her words pressed into him, settling into the deepest parts of his thoughts, into the place where he had been avoiding this very conversation.

She spoke of years. Decades. A life measured in time she would experience fully, while he—

He swallowed, his fingers tightening around his cup.

[Name] studied him, waiting, watching, and when he still didn’t speak, she sighed, leaning back. "I guess what I’m saying is, I want you there," she admitted. "For all of it. If I’m being honest, I just assumed you did too."

Zhongli exhaled quietly, setting his cup down with deliberate care.

Her words—simple, spoken without hesitation—settled in his mind like stone against earth. It was not just a passing thought for her, not just something she wished for in the abstract. She had already placed him in her future, had already imagined a life where he was beside her, watching time unfold together.

She had spoken of it so naturally, without fear, without hesitation.

And in that moment, he realized he wanted that future too.

For the first time, he allowed himself to truly picture it. A life measured not by eternity, but by the years they would share. Mornings spent with quiet conversation, the scent of tea in the air. Evenings filled with laughter, with arguments over things that did not matter, with the warmth of knowing someone was waiting for him at the end of the day.

It was something he had never let himself consider before.

Now, he did.

He wanted to grow old with her.

He wanted to be there.

And for the first time in thousands of years, he understood what had to be done to make that a reality.

Their walk home was quiet. The city had settled into its nighttime hush, the streets dappled in the glow of lanterns overhead. [Name] walked with her hands tucked behind her head, casting glances his way now and then, as if waiting for him to say something.

But he did not, not yet.

When they reached the edge of her street, she stopped, turning toward him with an easy smile. “See you tomorrow?”

Zhongli met her gaze, something deep and steady settling within him. “Yes,” he said, “tomorrow.”

She lingered a moment longer before nodding, stepping back toward her home. He watched until she was gone, until the door closed behind her, before finally allowing himself to exhale.

Standing beneath the lantern light, he let the weight of the evening settle fully upon him.

There was no uncertainty now. No hesitation.

For the first time in his long existence, he knew what he wanted.

He would not simply watch time pass this time. He would choose.

But to do that…

To truly be with her, to share her years, to grow old as she would—he had to let go.

He had to step away from the life he had always known.

Morax had ruled Liyue for thousands of years.

Zhongli, however, was ready to live.

The city of Liyue was alive with celebration, its streets overflowing with eager voices, the scent of incense thick in the air. Lanterns swayed gently overhead, their warm glow illuminating the vast crowds gathered before the Jade Chamber. The people waited with bated breath, eyes fixed skyward, anticipation woven into every hushed whisper.

The Rite of Descension was a ceremony of great reverence. It was tradition, the foundation upon which Liyue had been built—an affirmation that their god, their protector, still watched over them. And for the last time, Rex Lapis would appear before his people.

Zhongli, taking the form of a dragon, stood at the highest point of the chamber, gazing down at the city that had flourished under his hand. For thousands of years, he had guided them, shaped their fate with careful precision, carved their future from the stone of the land itself. But now, it was time to step away.

He had prepared for this.

He had spent centuries watching over them, ensuring they could stand on their own. He had forged contracts not just between rulers, but between the land and the people, so that even in his absence, Liyue would remain strong. They no longer needed a god to oversee every transaction, to pass judgment over every decision.

And yet, even as he told himself this, there was an ache deep within him, a weight that pressed against his very being.

To let go of divinity was one thing. To let go of the people he had watched over for millennia, the land he had shaped with his own hands—that was another entirely.

Still, the decision had been made.

There could be no hesitation.

The moment arrived. A final breath. A final glance at the world he had built.

And then, he fell.

The sensation was strange—weightless and yet crushing, as though time itself stretched between moments. He felt the air rush past him, the stunned cries of the people below, the way the city seemed to recoil in horror as their god—their unshakable, eternal protector—crashed into the earth, lifeless and unmoving.

The murmurs turned to cries. Chaos rippled outward like cracks in stone.

"The Geo Archon is dead!"

From the depths of his consciousness, from the fading remnants of the form he had left behind, Zhongli listened.

He listened as the voices of the people he had watched over for so long trembled with uncertainty.

He listened as fear gripped them, as leaders stepped forward to bring order to the moment, as merchants and elders alike whispered prayers for guidance.

He had known they would react this way. He had prepared them for it. And yet, for all the logic in his decision, something in him wavered.

He had always been an observer, but this was the first time he had truly felt what it meant to be left behind.

He had prepared Liyue for this. But had he prepared himself?

Days passed.

The city did not sleep in the wake of the Archon’s passing. Vigil after vigil was held, offerings stacked high at the shrines, speculation spreading like wildfire. The harbor was thick with rumor—who had done it, why, what this meant for the future. But no one truly knew what had happened.

And somewhere, beyond the reach of the mourning city, Zhongli sat alone.

He had wandered the outskirts of Liyue, away from the lanterns and the sorrow, away from the weight of the decision he had made. Once he found the opportunity, had left the city as a mortal, leaving his vessel behind, and yet the weight of divinity still clung to him on any thread it could.

For the first time in thousands of years, he had no direction. No contract to uphold. No war to wage.

Only silence.

And he did not know what to do with it.

It was [Name] who found him.

She had been searching for days, asking vendors, dock workers, anyone who might have seen him. He hadn’t been at the tea house. Hadn’t stopped by her shop. He had vanished—and in the wake of the god’s passing, that absence had begun to gnaw at her.

And then, just as the sun began to dip behind the mountains, she saw him.

He was standing at the edge of the harbor, facing the open sea, his posture still but not at ease.

Something in her chest tightened.

He looked tired. Not physically—there was no slump to his shoulders, no telltale exhaustion in his stance—but something deeper. A weariness that did not belong to a man who had simply had a long day.

She approached quietly, though she doubted he hadn’t already noticed her. Still, she didn’t say anything at first, simply stepping up beside him and letting the sea breeze wash over them both.

"You disappeared," she finally said, her voice softer than she intended.

A long pause. Then, quietly—

"I know."

[Name] studied him out of the corner of her eye. His face was unreadable, as it often was, but there was something about him that felt… distant.

She crossed her arms. "Alright. You wanna tell me what that was all about?"

He exhaled slowly. "It was… necessary."

She frowned. "Disappearing for days was necessary?"

He turned his gaze toward her then, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "I have spent much of my life fulfilling expectations, upholding traditions. And now, for the first time, I find myself free of them."

[Name] tilted her head, studying him. There was something in his voice that made her hesitate—something deep, something old.

"You say that like you don’t know what to do with it," she said carefully.

He huffed a quiet chuckle, but there was no humor in it. "Perhaps I don’t."

That alone made her chest tighten. Zhongli had always been so steady, so sure of himself. He always had an answer, always spoke as if he already knew the outcome of every path.

To hear him admit uncertainty now was… unsettling.

She nudged his arm lightly. "You could’ve at least told me you were gonna go off and contemplate life for three days. I wouldn’t have worried."

His lips quirked slightly. "That is a lie."

[Name] sighed dramatically. "Alright, fine, I would have worried. But you still should’ve told me."

Zhongli glanced back toward the water, his expression unreadable once more. "I will keep that in mind."

She studied him again, biting her lip before finally stepping closer. "Look, I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours," she admitted, "but I know you. And I know that whatever this is, you’re probably making it more complicated than it needs to be."

Zhongli said nothing.

[Name] sighed, softer this time. "Just… don’t disappear again, alright? You’re allowed to figure things out without shutting everyone out."

Another long pause.

Then, finally, he nodded. "I understand."

She gave him one last look before stepping away, heading back toward the city. "Good. Now come on, I’m starving, and you owe me dinner for the stress."

For the first time in days, something in him settled.

He turned, following her without question.

The seasons passed, and life in Liyue carried on. The city adapted, as it always had. Though the loss of Rex Lapis had shaken its people, the foundation of Liyue remained strong. Trade continued, merchants prospered, and the world did not end without its god. The people learned to stand on their own, just as he had always intended.

And Zhongli continued living as one of them.

It had been a slow process at first. He had spent lifetimes watching from a distance, unbound by time, unshaken by change. But now, for the first time, he was a part of it. No longer just an observer, but a participant.

And [Name] was there, as she always was.

Their walks through the harbor continued to be part of their rhythm, their evening tea an unspoken tradition. When she worked late into the night, he would often be waiting outside her shop, two cups of tea in hand. When he found himself wandering the marketplace, he would hear her voice calling to him before he even had the chance to seek her out.

Nothing had changed, and yet everything had changed.

They never named what they were, never spoke about it outright.

But one evening, as the lanterns swayed overhead and the scent of the sea drifted through the air, Zhongli decided it was time to change that.

Their usual tea house was quieter than normal tonight, the hum of conversation a distant murmur beneath the rustling leaves. The summer breeze carried the scent of flowers and salt, the lantern light flickering against the polished table between them.

[Name] sat with one leg crossed over the other, absently swirling the tea in her cup, her other hand resting against her cheek as she watched the people pass by. She looked content. At ease in a way she hadn’t been when he had first met her.

Zhongli watched her, as he often did.

But tonight, for the first time, he was ready to speak.

“I have been thinking,” he began, setting his cup down with deliberate care.

[Name] let out a quiet chuckle. “Uh-Oh.”

He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “I have come to a conclusion.”

That caught her attention. She tilted her head slightly, her teasing demeanor softening just enough for curiosity to take its place.

Zhongli met her gaze, steady and sure. “I would like to grow old with you.”

Her breath hitched.

He continued, his voice even but warm. “You spoke of this once, of wanting me there when your final day comes. And at the time, I was hesitant, uncertain.” He shook his head slightly, as if at himself. “Not because I did not wish for it, but because I had spent so long resisting the idea of permanence, believing that it was not mine to have.”

[Name] didn’t speak. She didn’t even breathe.

Zhongli reached for his cup again, fingers brushing along the porcelain as he considered his next words. “But I no longer wish to stand at the edge of life and watch from afar. I no longer wish to count time while ignoring the days right before me.” He looked at her again, something deep and unwavering in his gaze.

“I wish to spend those days with you.”

[Name] exhaled, setting her tea down with a quiet clink. For once, she didn’t have a quip, a teasing remark to cut through the moment. She simply nodded. “Good,” she murmured. “I was starting to think you’d never say it.”

His lips quirked slightly, a faint, knowing smile. “You always did have patience.”

“Mm, debatable.” She smirked, leaning back. “But I like hearing you say it, so I’ll take it.”

Zhongli chuckled softly, then let the moment settle before adding, “There is something else I have been considering.”

[Name] raised a brow. “Oh? More big revelations?”

He exhaled, resting his hand against the table. “We should have names for one another.”

That made her pause. She blinked, tilting her head. “Names?”

“Titles,” he corrected. “A way to define what we are to each other.”

[Name] furrowed her brows slightly, searching his expression. “You really do make everything sound complicated.”

Zhongli merely inclined his head, waiting.

She let the silence sit for a moment, then hummed, tapping her fingers against the table. “Alright. If that’s the case, what do you want these titles to be?”

Zhongli studied her, his gaze unwavering.

“I believe we are bound,” he said simply, not answering her question.

[Name]'s breath caught, though she quickly masked it with a half-smile. “Bound, huh? That’s one way of saying we’re stuck with each other.”

“Let me finish, but first, let me clarity. We are not not stuck with each other,” he corrected. “We have chosen each other.”

Something flickered in her expression—something hesitant, something hopeful. She didn’t respond immediately, letting his words settle.

Zhongli allowed a small smile before continuing. “I have always valued certainty, and you once told me that if we were to move forward, it would require commitment.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. “I mean, yeah. I think that goes without saying.”

He inclined his head. “And as you know, I place great value in contracts.”

[Name] stared at him, blinking once. Then again.

A slow, dawning realization flickered across her face, her eyes widening just slightly.

Zhongli did not elaborate.

“…Hold on,” she said suddenly, sitting up straighter. “You—did you just—” She squinted at him. “Did you just propose to me by calling it a contract?”

He did not correct her.

[Name] gawked. “Oh my god—you totally did.”

Zhongli took a calm sip of his tea. “That is in my nature.”

She groaned, running a hand down her face before letting out a breathless laugh. “You absolute—”

She shook her head, exasperated but undeniably happy. And despite her teasing, despite her laughter, despite all of it, there was something warm and real settling between them.

Because he hadn’t corrected her.

Because, in his own strange way, he had meant it.

[Name] exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. “Alright, fine. You wanna call this a contract? Let’s call it a contract.” She leaned forward, her smirk curling at the edges. “Just know—if we’re doing this, I expect fair compensation.”

Zhongli lifted his brow. “And what would that entail?”

She reached for his hand across the table, lacing her fingers with his. “Every day. Every month. Every year ahead of us.” She squeezed his hand. “That’s the price.”

Zhongli’s grip tightened around hers, his golden eyes steady.

“Then consider it signed.”

And, for just a fleeting moment, he felt a quiet sense of relief—not just in the certainty of her words, not just in the weight of the choice they had made together, but in the fact that this was a contract he could uphold... without financial strain. No expensive fees, no costly tributes—just time, shared freely, something he could give in abundance until the end of their days.

[catiuskaa]

SAUVAGE.

jupiter, you’re hard (to get).

sum. jupiter may not smell like woody ambery trails or smoky accents, and he may seem like just a really big planet who’s really far away, but juno will always find him.

wc. 3.2k

cw. spacecrafts, stars, and planets, roman mythology, kudos to sabrina carpenter’s juno, producer!reader x idol!han, friends2lovers, a beer (if i must content warn you, i will) smut! car! heavy on kisses with a side of unprotected piv sex (don’t!) switch!jisung x switch!reader (undefined tbh)

scent. (♡) the perfume saga.

[🔺☆ 🚀 ☆🔺]

Jupiter is the fifth planet from the Sun and the largest in the Solar System.

It is a gas giant with a mass more than two times that of all the other planets in the Solar System combined, and slightly less than one-thousandth the mass of the Sun. Its diameter is eleven times that of Earth, and a tenth that of the Sun. Its name derives from that of Jupiter, the chief deity of ancient Roman religion. Jupiter orbits the Sun at a distance of 5.20 AU (778.5 Gm), with an orbital period of 11.86 years.

However, Han Jisung isn’t quite as big or gaseous. He likes to believe he isn’t made up of metallic hydrogen, but rather stardust, he had said once —and you remembered, of course, because how couldn’t you—. He isn’t the oldest planet in the Solar System. He doesn’t run hotter than the Sun. He doesn’t have many many moons (95!) that spend ages to rotate around him.

Well. Not moons, anyways.

Juno is a NASA space probe orbiting the planet Jupiter.

It was built by Lockheed Martin and is operated by NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory. Juno entered a polar orbit of Jupiter in 2016 to begin a scientific investigation of the planet. After completing its mission, Juno was originally planned to be intentionally deorbited into Jupiter's atmosphere, but has since been approved to continue orbiting until contact is lost with the spacecraft.

Thing is. You’re not a spacecraft either. You weren’t built by whoever Lockheed Martin is. You can’t orbit around planets. And most definitely, you don’t keep in contact with NASA. Nevertheless, a part of you can’t help but relate, because, somehow, even after your mission was ultimately done, you couldn’t stop orbiting around Jupiter.

Well. Not Jupiter, anyways.

you: let’s do some cardio next day

jisungie🎀💫: cardio, you say? 😏

jisungie🎀💫: not even a coffee before taking me to your place? 🤨📸

Jupiter couldn’t even reach to make you feel the giddiness that Han somehow could trigger and make it overcome you. You kicked your feet, but when you entered and found your reflection in the elevator mirror, you clicked your tongue.

“Don’t be such a schoolgirl”, you mumbled to yourself, pressing the button, and heading up back home.

you: tsk tsk, you’re always thinking about food

And you’re always thinking about him, a mean voice in your head snapped back at you. You cursed, damning your own mind for betraying you. But, to spare you, it wasn’t that serious, you thought. You two interacted just the right amount.

He was an idol, for god’s sake. You weren’t catching feelings. That would be dumb on your side, the least.

So of course, when your phone chimes in the specific ringtone that, of course, you hadn’t set just for his contact, of course, you didn’t almost drop your purse when you read what he replied.

jisungie🎀💫: as if, silly

jisungie🎀💫: i ain’t eating no one for free

The text made you dizzy, so you forced yourself to back off from replying the first thing that came to mind.

Hungry? Eat me.

“Think straight for once,” you cursed out loud, passing your hands through your hair. Closing the door to your apartment and knocking your shoes off while your mind went off to other, far more interesting places and memories.

You clearly remembered the moment you met quirky, loveable Han Jisung. How inevitable it had been to just start orbiting around him with the excuse of your mission— producing one of his solos for an upcoming skz-record.

Headphones. It had been such a silly first encounter, yet so fitting for you two that you couldn’t help but cherish it dearly.

Lost in thought, you hadn’t been paying attention to where you were headed. Neither had he, and, which had ended with a little crash against each other. A meteor, not quite as devastating as so to kill a couple dinosaurs, but to leave a crater in your heart and create a small moon out of the pieces that scattered away shyly.

“Sorry!” You bowed your head, then stared at him.

“Hi,” he had said in a sheepish tone, hints of panting that you attributed to how he must’ve run back in hopes of catching you. “Guess you like wave to Earth too?”

And while he giggled, you told yourself you weren’t going to fall, but both Jupiter and Juno knew.

They had said the same thing about Rome.

jisungie🎀💫: entering jyp

you: at 21:43? jeez

jisungie🎀💫: what? i ain’t afraid of success bbg 💪

jisungie🎀💫: come over if you want

What would happen with any other person was that they’d smile and turn off their phone.

Well. Not Juno.

Not you, no.

[🔺☆ 🚀 ☆🔺]

The studio smelled like bubble tea, and that’s how you knew he was still there.

“Oh, hey! I wasn’t sure if you were coming in.” Han smiled.

Sleepiness oozed off of him, and you grinned, cleaning the table from leftover crumbles as you set your bag down. Your heart twirled imaginary hairs when Jisung’s hands —hands with several rings, something that could sometimes be a lot to manage— left the keyboard and settled on his thighs, softly stroking them as he turned the chair to face you.

“Yeah. Wanted to work on a demo I owe to the girls,” you mentioned, taking your jacket and your mask off.

“Actually,” he started, and your hands tingled with the feeling that you’d help him in whatever he needed. Damnit, hands. Damn you, heart. “Could you help me with this demo? Jeonginnie asked me to go over it.”

You sipped from your own drink, as if to fake giving it a bit of a thought. You were going to say yes, of course. But instead, you scratched your arm, frowning lightly.

“Innie asked you?”

“It’s for his solo stage.” He clarified, turning back to face the computer. “We all have them for our tour.”

The way he entered the recording booth seemed distant, and a part of you couldn’t help but wonder why as you fidgeted with your necklace and settled everything on the desk comfortably. Ji turned the light off, something slightly weird. He never did that with you, after all these years, and considering you two were the only ones there, you asked.

“Is it a high register?” You wondered, pressing the button on your left so he could hear you in his headphones. You blinked when you saw his figure slightly jolt in something like surprise.

“Uh, no. It’s just the… style of the song,” he giggled, putting his beanie on and tucking in the hairs that fell over his eyes.

Oh. That’s the one you gifted him.

“Sure. Mind if I give it a listen first?”

“Go ahead,” he replied without looking at you through the window.

Helping him came off naturally. The track for the girls was an excuse, one you had already forgotten. And as he started singing, you weren’t sure you’d remember any time soon.

“T-those are some bold lyrics, huh?”

Hallucination.

Jisung covered his eyes with his beanie, giggling.

“It’s Innie’s fault. He gets it from Chan.”

“What’s Chan’s solo about?” You asked with a laugh.

You didn’t expect Jisung to stare at you and swallow dry.

“He says it’s about trains.” He shrugged, as if he had remembered suddenly that he was supposed to answer your question.

When you both were done, it was late. Really late. He insisted you two grabbed a beer in the convenience store nearby, but you took a juice, claiming you had to drive.

“I’ll uh, I’ll get the bus, seriously,” he raised his hands as you both exited the store, beer in hand.

“Ji,” you deadpanned, finishing your juice. Thank God you liked him, because sometimes you wanted to hit him. Softly. With a pillow. “Shut up. I’m taking you.”

[🔺☆ 🚀 ☆🔺]

“How come I didn’t remember you have a driver's license?” Han smiles sheepishly.

The drive to his apartment is silent, as if you two were submerged in a no-conversation. No words, no nothing, just the sound of the tires against the asphalt and the yellow lights from the streetlights that lightened your way.

It’s late enough that there are little to no cars on the driveway. But weirdly, Jisung sips from his beer and sighs.

“Actually, could to take a left here?” He says softly, his voice surprisingly low.

“That’s not the way to your apartment, is it?” You ask, as softly as him, turning anyways.

“Nah, it’s this place I found and I wanted to show you.”

Alcohol doesn’t get easy to him —not from a beer, at least—, but he’s smiling like silly, and you can’t help but smile too.

You park where he tells you, and surely enough, there’s no one there. It’s a secluded, empty area, far from the center and high enough so that the city can be seen clearly.

“Think I left my jacket here last time I came.” He snickers, and you can’t help but chuckle. His hand travels to your knee and he squeezes it gently. “I’ll come back in just a second.”

One blink. Two blinks.

Hot fucking damn.

Your head falls against the steering wheel as soon as he closes the door.

Get your shit together.

Looking up, the car tells you it’s way past midnight. Your head tells you you’re crazy, your heart giggles at the fact, guilty as charged. Sighing, you raise your face enough to look at the stars. Only to find Jisung’s silhouette, now with a dark jacket on, waving at you as he stands in front of the car.

You’re blushing, but you wave haphazardly, smiling, and still frown when instead of getting back to his seat, Jisung goes and opens your door instead.

“Hey,” he giggles, and your grin matches with his.

“What are you doing?”

Jupiter can sometimes be seen from Earth, when the Sun’s light hits it just right and the night is dark. Still, its shimmer doesn’t compare to that of Jisung’s eyes when he rests his forearms on the car’s roof and bends down to your height. You haven’t moved, your own eyes fixated on how he licks his lips.

“I think I’m being stupid,” he chuckles. You’re a goner, not even noticing how his hand slides in for a moment and turns the headlights off, leaving you two only illuminated by the shy light in the car that indicates that the door is open and by the moonlight, who cheekily shines at the both of you.

Instead, you blink. Normally you just get him, just as he gets you, but you’re almost as lost as how you feel when you stare into his dark brown eyes.

“Stupid?” You smile lightly. “Why?”

At your tender tone, Jisung lets his head fall down, shyness getting the best of him. And yet the little alcohol he’s had boosts him back.

“I, uh, had a dream. Been having these dreams for like, a bit over a month,” he swallows dry, much like he did at the studio, and his eyes suddenly feel darker than before, maybe because his gaze stops avoiding yours for longer than a minute.

A meteor shower threatens to fall over your heart.

“You were there. And I was there, too.”

For someone who composes and uses words for a living, he was struggling a lot to piece together what he wanted to say.

“This… there was… this… feeling, like, inside of me. Here.”

Not only does he not use his hand, but he takes yours from the steering wheel and settles it over his chest. His heart.

You’re frozen. Completely out of it. Is it possible that maybe you fell asleep in the studio and that none of this is real? Could that be it, you wonder, until Jisung groans and leans his forehead against the roof of the car with a thud.

“I’m being an idiot, am I?” He snickers, with an undertone that lingers in something that resembles resignation. “I just- I saw you the other day, and I was… you were with Hyunjin, and I…” he clenches his fist, and he tries to back off, rubbing his face and passing them through his hair.

“No, Ji, wait.”

He chuckles breathlessly. “I made it awkward, right?”

“Ji.”

Your hand pulls him back closer by the zipper of his jacket, and only the crunchy-like sound of the gravel beneath him as he walks echoes through the night and follows how you move your hands toward his wrists. Towards his own hands, stopping him from picking on his nails further.

“Tell me, Ji,” you mumble. “What were you saying?”

His voice threatens to tremble before he speaks. His eyes don’t move from yours, and you think you’re completely out of your mind, just as much as he thinks of himself too.

“I keep having these dreams where I see you and the ache of wanting you swells up in me, like I’m on a raft that’s sinking and I just can’t even escape thinking about you when I sleep because I-”

He’s rambling, but with a sudden move from your side, he’s not anymore.

The cold of November doesn’t hit you when you stand up bluntly and you link your arms behind his neck and kiss him like you have been wanting to do for years.

His lips crash against yours like the sea crashes against the sharp rocks against the shore, even if the coast is much further away than you think, but you don’t mind, because you can’t think.

You’re kissing him. Finally.

You’re kissing Han Jisung.

And then, just a beat after what you’ve done —what you’re doing— sinks in, he reacts. His hands travel underneath your jacket and in the blink of an eye, he’s letting you push him against the car. No words, no nothing, only the scent of his cologne that suddenly fills you.

You tremble beneath him, and he pants.

He’s not blinking, his eyes glued to you. He can’t think either.

You should say something. What should you say? ‘Me too’? That’s lame. How come your brain can’t work when you most need it?

As if to answer your question, Han kisses you this time. Of course you can’t think, not when his hands travel underneath your clothes and he twists you in a way that somehow it’s your back against the car now. He’s not breathing, and neither are you, because you’re not kissing anymore, not when your lips can feel the teasing dent of his teeth nibbling on them and when the only thing you can taste is his tongue.

You’re not against the car anymore, because he closes the driver’s door with a kick and he opens the one to the backseats while he keeps kissing you.

Crazy. You’ve gotta be, because dreaming something as wild as this and for it to feel real, as real as it gets, as real as it could ever be, it has to mean you’re crazy. And you’d die on that hill if it means you get to keep dreaming how Jisung takes his newly-found jacket off and throws it to the front seat, in the same foreign path as where he throws his shirt, or how you two barely fit in the car and so he settles his knee between your legs to help you move back enough so that he can close the door.

And now you’re there. Alone together.

He gasps against your neck, as if he remembered that he had to keep breathing to live, and you don’t lose your opportunity, taking your sweater off and throwing it towards the trunk.

You lean your head back, the car feeling heavy with only the sounds of both him and you panting.

“I… fuck, I need you to tell me you want this.” Han swallows dry. “I need you to say it. Please. I want this too much.”

A meteor shower? Scratch that. This is a meteor storm.

“I think this is a dream, but still, I want you. Please.”

No words, no nothing, just the sound of the leather against your sweaty skin when you sit up straight and kiss Jisung like you mean it. It’s all nasty, teeth and tongue and a string of saliva that lingers when you break the kiss to fumble with his zipper.

“What if it is a dream,” you gasp, out of breath, out of control, completely and irrevocably out of it as your eyes stare at his. “I want you. Even if I wake up right now.”

Your shirt is discarded as fast —if not faster— than the rest of your clothes before.

“So if it is a dream, let’s keep going until we wake up.” You swallow dry too. “Until the stars can’t be seen.”

The kiss is like a heroin kick, although it is one that seems familiar. Or maybe it’s that your lips have become used to kissing his, considering that breathing has become a second priority with how raw is the need to consume him. A wave of pleasure takes claim inside of you with each caress of his tongue, with every touch of his fingers on your back, with every eager breath next to your jaw. He pulls you closer and moans with his mouth buried in your skin unfinished phrases that drive you crazy little by little —more than you already were.

“It may end right away,” Jisung says in a hoarse voice, clinging to one of the headrests that are closest to him. “But I’ll make it up to you. With my mouth. Or with my fingers. Or both. Yes, fuck...”

It’s a mix of quick and ruthless kisses, mouths open. Wet and urgent, almost in bites, as if you’d want to eat the other alive as he takes his pants off and helps you with yours, going down to kiss your neck.

“You’re so... f-fuck, ah...” he mumbles while he runs his tongue down your throat and to your collarbone. “I never want to wake up.”

His lips taste like the feeling that overcomes you when you look at the sky on a starry night. Emotion. Ecstasy. You want to drink it whole until there’s not a single drop left. Drink him.

Jisunh squeezes your ass, while your mouths are a mess, while he bites your lip and pulls it, smiling like a cheeky bitch, while your mouths fight for the control of the kiss and your tongue caresses his, and before you can piece together that the windows are foggy because of the two of you, he’s sliding inside, his hand lacing with yours.

God, you want to moan. Moan so loud. And so you do, because there’s nothing in this dream that could stop you.

And he moans, too, because you are like a dream come true.

Juno and Jupiter.

[🔺☆ 🚀 ☆🔺]

~kats, who accidentaly went full autism, space and mythology on the meaning of ‘juno’ by Sabrina Carpenter.

catiuskaa, november 2024 ©

[linkspooky]

I WANT YOU TO UNDERSTAND ME

It's not surprising to me that Gojo's dying monologue he spent more time talking about his fight with Sukuna than any of his students. Gojo's priority from the beginning isn't to save Megumi but to fight all-out against a strong opponent, the line is: ""The Absolute Strong. The loneliness that follows. The one who will teach you about love is..."

This fight is basically the climax of Gojo's identity crisis which has been a long running issue for him throughout the manga. He's simultaneously a self-confident individualist with an overpowering sense of "ego" and a person with little idea of who he is outside of the role in society that was given to him. Gojo went into the fight looking for someone capable of understanding him, the fight is about Gojo seeking an answer to who he is, that's why he fights and that's why he loses.

Gojo is Not Normal

Nanami's statement is misinterpreted I think.

"You live for Jujutsu. You don't wield it to protect something. You use it solely for the sake of satisfying yourself."

A lot of people took this to mean that Goo didn't care about anyone but himself, even though Gojo directly contradicts this earlier.

"I love everyone and don't feel lonely snow, but somewhere along the way there was a line I drew, not as a human but as a living creature."

He states he does love other people, if only from afar, he just doesn't understand them. Gojo can't make other people his reason to fight, because he only understands himself. He only sees himself. He can only fight for what's inside himself.

"You can make a flower bloom, you can admire it, but you can't tell that flower 'I want you to understand me'

Gojo's students are the flowers. Itadori, Fushiguro and Nobara are all named after flowers. He's raising them up to be as strong as him, he's fond of them, but he doesn't think they relate to him because he exists in a different category of other people.

A lot of people want Gojo to be a more traditional caring mentor figure like Kakashi or Aizawa they're missing what's really interesting about his character. When Nanami says "Gojo only cares about being the strongest" it's true because his entire character is written around the statement "I am the strongest". He is conceptually about what it is like to be the strongest man in existence. That is the character concept, and Gojo's entire identity crisis revolves around that he's built up his personality around being the strongest at Jujutsu and nothing else.

Gojo can only fight for his own ego and self satisfaction as Nanami says, because he has nothing else, he has no identity outside of that.

However, before I get into why I want to point out that Gojo is not normal. It's not because someone on his power level is fundamentally incapable of relating to other people, but Gojo himself...is not right in the head. He's making an active decision to choose not to empathize with people whatsoever, it's not just that it's hard to understand him, it's that they can't understand him.

Gojo talks about his students like they're members of another species. They're flowers. They can't relate to him on a human level because he's something other than human. A friend had an interesting reading on why specifically it's flowers Gojo chose for his metaphor.

Plants are less sentient than insects, they don't contemplate anything they are just taken care of by their gardener and grow towards the sun. That's how differently he sees himself from others.

I wanted to include this take from @kaibutsushidousha as well.

Gojo's not from the planet mars he's a human who has human emotions and human psychology like everyone else, so that's simply not true, but Gojo believes it is and that belief influences how he interacts with everyone.

Gojo can't see himself reflected back in other people for some reasons that aren't his fault and some reasons that are. Gojo has been from birth, treated as different from everyone around him, not for anything he really did but because he was born with a really strong jujutsu ability. He's a literal chosen one. He always seen as the six eyes user, the strongest, before he was seen as a person. His entire life has been defined entirely by the abilities he was born with, he was born to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer so of course that's what he builds his entire identity around.

Not only is he told that he's categorically different from others, but he also believes it. We know little about his early childhood besides Gege's statements that he was spoiled, but we do see later on in childhood there are people who are willing to treat Gojo normally despite the position he has as the strongest. This is when it starts being Gojo's fault that he continues to see himself as different from other people.

Shoko, Gojo's closest confidante in his schooldays after Geto's days basically tells him that. She's been with him for years and yet he still has the audacity to act like he's all alone in the world. Even when people try to treat Gojo normally and relate to him on a personal level, Gojo actively ignores their presence in his life like he did Shoko because he's not only been told he's different from other people because he's stronger, but he believes it and he's built his entire world view around it.

This is why the only person that Gojo ever let in was Geto, because Gojo believed that Geto was someone who could stand on top with others. THe only person who could believe the strongest, or teach them about love was someone equally as strong. Gojo just happening to meet another sorcerer who was special class as a teenager not only allowed him to have a friend, but fit perfectly into his narrative that he was separate from others and only someone as strong as him could understand. There are people like Shoko and Nanami who treat Gojo normally despite the fact he's the strongest, but Geto was the only one Gojo met in because he met the qualifiaction of being someone equally as strong.

This isn't really the case for Geto. Geto comes to see weak people as inferior yes in the sense he sees Non-Jujutsu Sorcerers as inferior, but Geto is capable of making connections to other Jujutsu Sorcerer. Geto has his family, he has Nanako and Mimiko and the rest of his followers who he all cares about equally. Geto met all of them and chose to relate to them, he even tells Gojo after killing his biological parents that he's choosing who his real family is now.

"It wouldn't be fair if I made an exception for my parents, now would it? Besides my family now consists of more than just them."

Geto demonstrates someone as powerful as Geto can make a choice to relate to other people. It's shown in the way that Geto treats Nanako and Mimiko, he is their father and he raised them as his daughters. Compared to how Megumi is just a student to Gojo. Gojo's only invested in making Megumi into a strong Jujutsu Sorcerer, because Gojo doesn't fathom connecting to someone weaker than him. He's only their to raise up a strong sorcerer, whereas Geto who's capable of connecting with people in other ways is raising up Nanako and Mimiko and they're connected as parent and child.

Geto and Gojo are similiar in a lot of ways, same level of strength comapred to the rest of humanity, same god complex (and yes it is a god coplex, there's a reason the two people Gojo relates to are Geto who has constant religious imagery associated with him and Sukuna who's literally satan) and yet Geto shows someone roughly Gojo's power level can make connections to others Gojo just chooses not to.

This is where I'm stealing from a friend's post a bit. @theanimepsychologist points out that Geto notices the beginnings of Gojo's identity complex soon after it started with Toji.

I always thought of the panel above as Geto being jealous of Gojo surpassing him in strength but, in retrospect, I think Geto’s disappointment had more to do with Gojo’s sense of self over-identifying with the title “the strongest” and how that made him harder to relate to, which is one of the main themes in this chapter. I’ll come back to this in a sec. But first… Quick depth psych segway. I think I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating again that an overwhelming sense of self is all ego. There’s nothing wrong with ego per se. The problem is that an over-identification with ego means inherent separateness because, as an organ of the psyche, the ego sense of self is what gives us a separate identity from the collective.

Geto notices that Gojo is drawing a line between himself and other people, and pulling away because of that because people in the second category of weak can't possibly understand the strong and he's reacting to it. Geto is also the only person to underline to Gojo himself that he's unsure about his own identity.

Gojo knows he's the strongest, but he doesn't know anything about himself besides that, or even what being the strongest entails in his relation to other people. He's never constructed an identity outside of it in part because he's never had to, nobody has ever challenged him for his title as the strongest, and he also fits jujutsu society's mould perfectly. He's perfect at what he does, why would he need to change? Why would a person who reached enlightenment at seventeen need to reflect upon himself or figure out who he is? You can't really become more enlightened.

The other reason he's never constructed an identity is he's never interacted with anyone on equal terms. Metaphorically Gojo exists in a vacuum of human interaction. How appropriate is it in a way that he was sealed in a box where time didn't move completely alone for who knows how long, because that's kind of just how Gojo sees himself in relation to the rest of the world.

As Psycho points out an unregulated ego results in an inherent separateness from the collective. People don't exist in a vacuum however. We wouldn't know who we are if we were entirely alone. We are defined just as much as ourselves, as we are by our interaction with others.

Ich and Du, translated as I and Thou is a book by philosopher Martin Buber. His two main porositions is that we may address existence in two ways:

The attitude of the "I" towards "it" towards an object that is separate in itself, which we either use or experience.

The attitude of "I" towards "Thou" in a relationship in which the other is not separated by discrete bounds.

I -> It is the world of sensations. If I am looking at a chair, I say "This is a chair. This chair is an eyesore." I am seeing the chair. I don't relate to the chair.

I -> Thou can be used to refer to a relationship between human beings. You don't experience the human being., you can only relate to them and what that relationship means to you. He goes on further to say that love requires a subject -> subject relationship. To love someone means you have to relate to them as if they are another being, you can't love an object.

He's a philosopher to put forward that it's human's connections with each other and their ability to relate to each other that brings meaning to life. Gojo in Buber's terms is only experiencing the world around him, not relating to it. How appropriate of someone with the six-eyes, an ability that gives him sight far better than anyone else to see himself as only an observer to the outside world, like a floating pair of eyes.

The choice that Gojo makes not to relate to other human beings on an equal level, not only isolates him, it affects his sense of self. People cannot exist within a background. Gojo's like a vampire who can't see his own reflection. ? It's all because of this caveat that Gojo himself has set up that no one can possibly relate to him unless they were equally as powerful as him that he can't see himself in others. He can't see himself in others, he can't find anyone to help him understand himself, and therefore his identity crisis goes unresolved.

Twitter user @ det_critics pointed this out that the question: "Take away his strength and what is he?" isn't one Gojo has an answer for, and one he's actively been running from.

As I said Gojo literally doesn't have a reflection, we see that in story when the prison realm opens its eye and it's just a void where Gojo's face is supposed to be. Gojo choosing not to think of himself as the strongest is also a choice not to think about who he'd be if he wasn't. A question he evades over and over again by telling himself that he can't be understood by people who are weak b/c he categorically exists on a different plane of reality.

When he does look for an answer it's telling just how not normal Gojo is in who he chooses to empathize with: which is Sukuna.

This is who Gojo as chosen to be the only other person besides Gojo he felt he could relate to. The same person who monologues about weak people like this.

The same person who monologues that weak people shouldn't even be alive, they should be culled. Sukuna sees weak people as insects. Gojo sees them as plants.

The first person that Gojo relates to as a subject rather than an object Geto is cut short, the next person he relates to as a subject is Sukuna of all people. He chooses to see himself in Sukuna, because Sukuna validates that incorrect idea Gojo has that someone as powerful as him could never possibly be understood by other people. After all, Sukuna the strongest sorcerer of all time isn't even really human anymore, he's a curse a calamity. For Gojo who doesn't see himself as relatable to other human beings this is validation of that mistaken notion.

It's also telling of how much Gojo's own identity issues have warped him that he finds a curse personally relatable, and even pitiable because it's lonely. Sukuna, who's main problem is that he's bored because a life of killing people is unfulfilling and it's turned him into an adrenline junkie. This is who Gojo's personally chosen to relate to because they both only see the world in the category of "the strong" and "the weak."

Gojo's viewpoint of other people is mistaken for several reasons, but one interesting one was pointed out for me by Psycho. He refers to his students as flowers, but they're lotus flowers. Lotus flowers mean many things, but they're seen as symbols of purity because they rise up from the mud. Gojo is only looking at the flowers, not the mud they rise from .

"No mud, no lotus. The mud is what makes us who we are, and no one can 100% understand what wading through the mud feels like. I think people see oh shiny lotus, the outcome of wading through the mud but they overlook the self because we live in an outcome oriented society.

Gojo is someone who doesn't see the mud and therefore doesn't relate to the personal struggles of others. Which sabotages a lot of his personal relationships. Which like, to bring Megumi into this, Megumi is proof that Gojo IS NOT NORMAL.

Megumi is the kind of special genius that Gojo is, he's born with the strongest technique one capable of killing Gojo, but he doesn't become a special class at seventeen like Gojo, nor is he interested in doing that because Megumi is an entirely different person with differnt personal struggles than Gojo. He has all the raw potenital that Gojo does, but they have wildly different upbringings. Gojo was primed for success by being the spoiled child of his clan, while Megumi is an abandoned child. It proves again Gojo's maxim of people who have that much power are inhuman and don't follow human psychology is wrong because Megumi has all the potential to be as strong as Gojo, but he's just a normal kid. Megumi is still wading through the mud and Gojo doesn't see that.

GOJO IS NORMAL

Jujutsu Kaisen seems to be following Buber's logic on how identity is defined by the interactions we have with other people, because there was a period in Gojo's life where he did create an identity outside of being a sorcerer and that's when he was Geto's friend.

In the afterlife we even see him regressing to that previous state of being. There was a period for three years in his life that Gojo was something besides being the strongest, and that was when he was Geto's friend too. If Jujutsu Kaisen is about how identity and meaning are both constructed from the interactions we have with other people (subject -> subject) interactions then it's telling that Gojo reverts to his seventeen year old self because that was the first and only time in his life he was capable of relating to another person, and acted like a fully developed person outside of the role of sorcerer he was born to play.

If identities are constructed though that means they're not inherent. Gojo is not inherently the strongest, just as he's not inherently different from other people. This is different from what Gojo's been told his entire life. He was born the strongest. It's inherent to his identity, a fundamental part of who he is. Therefore people who are strong are inherently different from those who are weak, it's something internally different about them which makes it impossible for Gojo to comprehend the motivations of weak people.

Rather than just strong and weak being constructed categories. Gojo's the strongest at Jujutsu but if you took him outside of Jujutsu and asked him to work any other job he'd no longer be the strongest. He's only the strongest as long as he remains in his fish bowl that is Jujutsu Society. However, Gojo believes differently, he believes being the strongest is what he is, it's something inside of him, and something that makes him fundamentally different from others. This is the line that Gojo has been told due to being born with the six-eyes and this is what Gojo has bought.

This is also what his ability the limitless symbolizes, no one in this world can touch him or reach him, he exists somewhere else. However, the limitless can be breached and Gojo has been shown before there are others capable of touching him.

Toji is the first and only living human being to challenge him, until Sukuna comes along. However, Toji does arguably more in story than just give Gojo a good fight. Toji full on traumatized him, soemthing which Gojo refuses to acknowledge. Toji is the beginning of the end of Geto's friendship, the death of Amanai Riko sends Geto on a spiral for an entire years, and drives a wedge between Geto and Gojo's friendship when Geto self isolates and Gojo doesn't know what's wrong with his friend.

Gojo also experiences what it's like to be defeated for the first time in his life, and his response is to perfect the limitless so he runs it constantly all the time. Remember, before that he was exhausting it doing it for three days in a row, and when Geto told him to take a break Gojo reassured him he wasn't worried because he knew Geto had his back. Gojo was someone who could let down the limitless before that, but afterwards Gojo always insists on fighting alone with his shields up all the time. All to deny that feeling of vulnerability that Toji inflicted on him for the first time in his life, something he remembers years later, you know like trauma.

There are times when Gojo is reminded that it's possible he's the same as anyone else, he can experience human weakness. Geto's fall is another time, one post says it's particularly challenging for Gojo to comprehend why Geto would defect because he saw Gojo and himself as above others and therefore immune to human weakness.

gojou 100% has a god complex and thats why getous downfall hit him harder than anyone else. he saw himself and getou as above everyone else and exempt from ‘regular’ peoples flaws, he never thought either of them could be led astray and when getou finally snaps hes bewildered that something like that could ever happen to either of them. hes not just heartbroken over his best friend becoming an enemy, hes thrown for a loop because getou, the one person he thinks of as just as above everyone else and incapable of failing as he is, could ever do something wrong, could ever be wrong. hes finally put into a position where he has to face the fact that hes just as capable of screwing up as anyone else and he can’t make sense of it. gojous hesitance in killing getou isn’t just a byproduct of their friendship, it’s also him realizing that it could have easily been him on the other side of the conflict, which breaks the illusion of him being better than everyone for a second. and like that’s still not enough for him to reject this idea, personally i think that his comment about him and getou being 'the strongest’ in volume 0 is indicative of the fact that despite everything he still hasn’t grown out of this delusion.

Gojo has trauma, because he's a human being with human psychology. He makes mistakes, he has terrible past regrets like his friendship with Geto gone wrong, but he doesn't acknowledge those things because as stated above Gojo thinks he's immune to having regular people flaws. Gojo seeing himself in another category from regular human beings also allows himself to deny an vulnerability, because the strongest isn't supposed to have weaknesses. Seeing yourself as too distant to ever be touched by others also means they can never hurt you, emotionally or otherwise, an extreme form of the hedgehog's dilemna which is explored an Neon Gengesis Evangelion, an existentialist piece Gege takes obvious inspiration from.

The fact that he avoids other human beings, not because he's fundamentally incapable of understanding them but because he's distancing himself from human feelings like loss, pain, suffering these weaknesses that are part of the human experience just proves he's the same as everyone else. If he wasn't capable of feeling those things he wouldn't avoid it, he wouldn't spend ten years mourning Suguru but not killing him directly until he was forced to on December 24th, he wouldn't be trapped by the box because seeing Geto alive made him have a three minute long trauma flashback.

Gojo is a normal human, with normal human emotions and human psychology, albeit twisted from the power he was born with and his unique viewpoint of the world but he doesn't believe that he is. He uses that as an excuse not to interact with others and because of this his identity suffers. Gojo is someone defined by how limited he is in the story despite having limited power.

Gojo fails as much in the story as he succeeds. As my friend @justapanda put it.

"But, it loos like being strong isn't enough..." Another point could also be made here that, regardless of being the strongest at this point, Gojo was incapable of stopping his closest friend from straying down a dark path, which is perhaps Gojo’s greatest failing in the series. This failure also comes back to bite him much later on as Kenjaku’s ace in the hole to finally checkmate Gojo involved surprising him with the now possessed body of Geto, which distracted Gojo long enough for him to be successfully sealed by the prison realm. Once again, the vast amount of power that Gojo had attained turned out to be completely useless in preventing his own sealing, which has now placed him in an inactive role for over half of Jujutsu Kaisen’s duration. Earlier in the story, Gojo once said: “Ironic, isn’t it? Given everything, but unable to do anything.” when referring to the function of his own domain. This was another intentional use of foreshadowing to describe the dilemma that Gojo was inevitably going to face himself. Satoru Gojo is no limitless man, for no one man is without his limits." Another point could also be made here that, regardless of being the strongest at this point, Gojo was incapable of stopping his closest friend from straying down a dark path, which is perhaps Gojo’s greatest failing in the series. This failure also comes back to bite him much later on as Kenjaku’s ace in the hole to finally checkmate Gojo involved surprising him with the now possessed body of Geto, which distracted Gojo long enough for him to be successfully sealed by the prison realm. Once again, the vast amount of power that Gojo had attained turned out to be completely useless in preventing his own sealing, which has now placed him in an inactive role for over half of Jujutsu Kaisen’s duration. Earlier in the story, Gojo once said: “Ironic, isn’t it? Given everything, but unable to do anything.” when referring to the function of his own domain. This was another intentional use of foreshadowing to describe the dilemma that Gojo was inevitably going to face himself. Satoru Gojo is no limitless man, for no one man is without his limits.

Gojo has moments where he brushes up against the idea that he's not capable of doing everything, that he has faults and fails like every other human being. However, that feeling never really lasts for long. He always tends to double down on his belief that he's the strongest rather than facing his faults because that's where he's comfortable. Gojo can't see himself reflected in other people and therefore is not capable of reflecting and critically evaluating his faults. Not only that but avoiding looking too critically at those losses, he also stops himself from feeling the pain of those losses and denies that vulnerability.

Gojo exists on another plane from other human beings, and therefore why would he experience human sadness and pain? All he feels is a vague sense of loneliness and unfulfillment because he's been so alienated from his own emotions and in Gojo's mind that's better than struggling with weakness. Who would deliberately choose to be just like everyone else when you can be special? Why get close to others when the hedgehog's spines are just going to stab you? However, people form connections because of their weaknesses. Humans cooperate with each other because they are a social species. All of society exists because people divide labor and help each other out. Even Gojo can't say there's no point in his life where he was weak, because he was cared for as a child and raised in a family. He didn't come out of the womb a fully formed individual. The darwinian survival of the fittest, and the black and white strong vs. weak way that Gojo sees the world just doesn't exist, especially in modern society. There's nothing wrong with individualism, but the extreme end of individualism is wrong because no one exists in this world alone you share it with everyone else.

Gojo doesn't even see that though, because he's not living in the same world as everyone else. In his mind the limitless makes it so he basically exists on another plane of reality, but again the limitless can be breached.

Detective critics basically said that Gojo's delusion was always a false one, he always existed in the same world as everyone else, he simply deluded himself into believing otherwise. There are reasons for this, his upbringing, trauma and not wanting to face the pain of that trauma, but it's still a choice he made. Gojo didn't want to live for other people, he didn't want to relate for them, so he lived for himself pursuing his own strength. Ironically, it reflects Toji's own decision to take pride in neither himself or others and live only for the sake of showing that the Jujutsu World that rejected him was wrong.

Toji chose to live a life where he only lived to fight and prove he was stronger than the sorcerers who rejected him. He chose it over his own son Megumi, abandoning him in order to continue his lifestyle as a mercenary. He even chose it over continuing to live because he stayed and fought against Gojo to prove he was stronger than the pinnacle of Jujutsu. Toji lives for strength, and he is someone even Gojo respected the strength of, but what else does he have?

Toji's identity is unstable, he doesn't really live for any purpose, he kills people then blows the money gambling, he jumps from women to women to mooch off of them, he's also mentally unstable as well he shoots a little girl in the back of the head and feels nothing. The instability comes from his isolation, Toji is rejected by everyone the same way that Gojo is lauded by everyone. But Toji goes on step further in that he fails to construct any identity outside of being rejected and his entire life is spent rejecting the people who rejected him. Why does Toji want to be strong, he doesn't know. Purpose is something you have to construct for yourself, because there's no inherent meaning to life. Identity is something that's constructed by both yourself and your interactions with others because people aren't born inherently one thing or the other.

Gojo and Toji just refuse to do this, and only focus on themselves and the goal of being stronger. In Gojo's case I'd argue he doesn't fight for other people because he doesn't feel that connection with other people or rather he doesn't let himself. Hedgehog's dilemna to the extreme. Gojo only fighting for himself isn't Nanami calling him a selfish person who doesn't care about others, it's sad because Gojo never found any other reason to fight or meaning to his life but by getting stronger for its own sake.

Gojo only fights for the sake of satisfying himself, but here's the clincher, he's unsatisfied. Not only did he fail in his goal of giving Sukuna the fight of his life, because he knew Sukuna was holding back on him, but also admits to Geto that what would have really been satisfying is if Geto was there with him to pat him on the back.

He's failed on both fronts, he's failed at being the strongest and he's failed at making a connection to the people in his life. Gojo and Toji die in pretty much the same way, they die standing up in the middle of battle, but their last thoughts aren't of disappointment that they lost but their loved ones.

They spent their entire lives believing they were stronger and therefore different than others, and fighting to satisfy their ego and what does it amount to? Toji lived a life of hedonism and then died abandoning the one person he genuinely loved. Gojo has failed his stated goal of revolutionizing Jujutsu Society and dies before he can see whether or not his dream of a reset Jujutsu World will even come to fruition.

They belived they were someone stronger and therefore inherently better, and are put in their place when someone stronger comes along. They die just like all the other mortals. They believed they were alone so they died alone. It's sad and it goes to show how destructive being "the strongest" was to Gojo's identity in the end. Gojo thinks he's Sukuna but Gojo doesn't want to be Sukuna, because Sukuna's alone, and unlike Gojo you could make the point that Sukuna's not a human being who has human emotions because he's a curse. If Gojo was truly someone who could understand Sukuna he would have been truly alone the same way Sukuna is, and that's not what he wanted.

It's too bad Gojo never thought seriously about what he wanted, and therefore learned his lesson too late. He was always looking for someone he could relate to, except for in the people who were right in front of him.

[ryuzakistoe]

Conflicted (Michael Kaiser x Fem!reader)

angst, fem!reader, arguing, and uhhh basically all angst, childhood friends, swearing

a/n: after this I honestly have no idea who to do next. I'm kinda in between Isagi again or someone else🤷‍♀️

I also got this as inspiration

BTW IM SO SORRY FOR BEING LATE

(omg I finally got it to work omg)

——

Experiencing someone you love deeply suddenly transform into a stranger can feel like the ground has fallen away beneath you. The trust you placed in them, the cherished memories, the laughter shared—all of it can vanish in an instant, leaving you grappling with an unbearable emptiness.

In the face of such devastation, some cling desperately to hope, convinced that the past can be reclaimed. They construct fragile illusions to shield themselves from the harsh truth, believing that everything will somehow return to the way it was. But these comforting lies only deepen the wounds, which lie temporarily closed, waiting to reopen with even more agony.

How long could you endure this torment? Some carry this weight for a lifetime, while others crumble under the pressure far too soon. For you, how long will you hold on, waiting for that moment when you perhaps see him again? How long until the heaviness of his “explanation” crushes you? In the end, when the truth finally pierces through the lies you've built around your heart, how will you cope with the devastation and lies?

Thats up to you.

…🥀…

Frequent moves were a normal part of your life, given that your father, a businessman, was always busy either supporting or establishing new companies. Over time, you became accustomed to the constant change, no longer feeling as upset or frustrated about leaving behind new memories and friends.

With your mother having sadly passed away, your father was the only family you had. However, his demanding schedule often kept him away, leaving you with too much free time. You would often wander aimlessly, your father always worrying since you were still so young.

One day, during one of these aimless walks, you noticed a boy around your age dressed in dusty, worn clothes, playing with an old, worn out soccer ball. You found yourself standing there, captivated, as he skillfully shifted the ball from one foot to the other. The fluid motion of his dribbling drew you in, sparking a sense of fascination.

Eventually, the boy noticed your quiet admiration.

"Can I help you, gnädige Frau?" he asked, his thick German accent coloring his voice as he stopped the ball under his foot.

Since arriving in Germany a few months ago, you had made steady progress with the language. Your father insisted you familiarize yourself with the formalities and learn a good number of words, as speaking German would be essential for getting by.

"I was just watching you play," you replied, mirroring his language and matching the casual energy in his tone.

He regarded you for a moment, as though sizing you up, before speaking again. "Do you know how to play? Fußball, meine ich," he said, his expression unreadable.

You hesitated briefly. While you were familiar with the basics and rules of football, you'd never actually played it. Your most significant experience with the sport had been attending a game with your cousin—an exciting memory, but that was as far as it went.

"I'm not sure how to play, but I understand the basics and the rules," you admitted, glancing briefly at the soccer ball.

"Only the basics, huh?" he murmured, flicking the ball up with the same foot that had held it steady. It flew in the air before dropping neatly into his arms.

The blonde boy began to walk toward you, his gaze fixed on you the entire time. Stopping just a few feet away, he asked, "What's your name?"

"Y/n L/n," you answered softly.

"Y/n L/n…" he echoed, as if testing the sound of your name on his tongue. His eyes drifted to the side, and he repeated your name again, his tone thoughtful, as though trying to commit it to memory or decipher some hidden meaning within it.

“And what's your name?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at his peculiar behavior.

The blonde boy seemed to snap out of his thoughts, his eyes meeting yours again. "Michael Kaiser," he replied.

Without warning, he tossed the ball toward you, giving you no time to react. It landed between your feet, and you glanced down at it slowly.

"Kick the ball," he instructed.

You looked back up at Kaiser, processing his words. Kick the ball? That sounded simple enough. You positioned your foot carefully, recalling how professional players did it, and swung your leg forward.

The ball rolled back to Kaiser with surprising smoothness, considering you had little experience with football.

Catching it effortlessly with his foot, Kaiser smirked. "Not bad for someone who doesn't know how to play," he remarked.

You weren’t sure if he was being genuine or just mocking you. "Thanks," you mumbled quietly, watching as he shuffled the ball between his feet.

He suddenly paused, then said something that caught you off guard. "Play with me."

You raised an eyebrow. "But I told you, I don’t really know how to play."

"I'll teach you," he responded almost instantly, his tone carrying a hint of urgency. There was a longing in his voice, and you could understand why. It had clearly been a while since he'd had anyone to play with.

Kaiser was always alone. The other kids avoided him, seeing him as an oddball because of his scruffy clothes, unkempt hair, and the bruises that covered him—marks left by his father. They treated him like an outcast, believing there was something wrong with him.

While they ignored him, Kaiser watched from a distance, wishing he could join in, longing for the kind of companionship they took for granted.

He would often imagine himself in the place of one of the other kids, letting his mind create a vivid scene of joining in and having fun. It was as if his consciousness played alongside them while his real body stayed behind, observing from a distance.

But now, he had a real chance to play with someone, no longer just imagining the experience.

Kaiser began teaching you everything he knew about football. You didn’t become an instant expert, but you quickly gained a better understanding of the sport. It started simply, with the two of you passing the ball back and forth while he explained the basics. Gradually, he introduced more advanced moves, each one more challenging than the last.

Before long, you had learned almost everything he had to teach, and Kaiser was genuinely pleased. Finally, he had someone to share the game with—a real companion, not just a daydream.

Day after day, whenever your father was busy with work, you met up with Kaiser. The two of you would play quick soccer matches, though Kaiser usually came out on top. It didn’t matter to him who won; having someone to share his favorite pastime with was all he had ever wanted as of right now.

You found yourself enjoying his company too. Since moving here, you hadn’t had anyone to talk to, spending most of your free time wandering aimlessly through unfamiliar places. Meeting Kaiser changed that. He had become an important part of your life, and you could tell that he felt the same.

The time you spent together brought you happiness, and the bond you shared grew stronger with each passing day. But then, a few years later, everything began to change.

…🥀…

Kaiser was well aware of his growing feelings for you. He wasn’t oblivious; he knew all too well the risks of letting them show. But that didn't stop them from deepening. It only made it harder to ignore.

After years of hard work, he finally secured a spot on Bastard München’s football team—a dream realized, and you had been there through it all. You were always by his side, ready to support him whenever he needed it. You were the person he could lean on, and that meant everything to him.

Over time, he came to depend on you. There were days when it felt like you were the only one who truly understood him, when he found himself seeking you out for solace. Your presence brought him a sense of calm that no one else could.

He began to rely on you.

It was inevitable, really. Being around someone as steadfast and caring as you, his feelings naturally began to shift and grow into something more.

He started to notice the way his gaze lingered on you whenever you spoke, how his cheeks would flush at the sight of your smile. He noticed how much weight your words carried with him, how the sun seemed to light up your skin in a way that drew him in. He couldn’t ignore the warmth that bloomed inside him just from seeing you.

He began to notice everything. And as much as he loved these feelings, he hated them just as much.

This was exactly what he was afraid of—this so-called "love" that threatened to unravel him. The thought of being vulnerable, of exposing that side of himself, terrified him. As his reputation as the "Emperor" grew, so did his fear of appearing weak.

His skills, his ego, and you—they had all shaped who he was and brought him to this point. He couldn’t afford to risk that. It was only natural that he didn’t want to gamble away everything he had worked for. Throwing it all away over a feeling seemed like the height of foolishness.

But was all the arguing and shared anger really worth it?

No, not at all.

…

"Y/n, is it really that hard for you to just listen to me?”

"But why…? Why now?"

The look Kaiser gave you was unfamiliar, his eyes now cold and distant. It was a side of him you had never seen before.

How did it come to this?

…

In the past few days, something had changed in him. The warmth that once lit up his face whenever he saw you had vanished, replaced by a faint scowl. The way he looked at you now—like you were just another bothersome fan—stung in a way you couldn’t understand. Sometimes he would just ignore your presence entirely, leaving you in silence.

"Y/n, I won't say it again. Please, for once, just listen and go. I don’t want to see you right now."

"But Michael! You still haven't told me why!" The desperation in your voice hung in the air, unanswered.

But It was as if Kaiser had just… snapped. Was it your endless questions? Your desperate pleas? Or maybe it was the look in your eyes each time he tried to brush you off.

"You want the truth, Y/n? Fine. Just looking at you makes me sick!"

His words hit like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. What did he mean? Had he always felt this way? If so, for how long? Were you too much for him?

A storm of thoughts swirled in your mind, each one cutting deeper than the last, as you felt the sting of tears welling up.

"Michael… what…?" you whispered, your voice trembling and barely audible.

"You make me feel sick, Y/n. Nauseous." His tone was sharp, laced with irritation, as if the very act of saying it exhausted him.

A couple of tears managed to form in your eye sockets as you quietly murmured, “Michael…but why? Why do I make you feel like this? Was it something I did..—”

Kaiser clenched his jaw, frustration and bitterness seething beneath his words. How could you be so clueless?

“Yes, Y/N, you did do something—no, you did everything!” he burst out. “Every time you smile, I can’t look away. Your stupid hair falls just right and it’s distracting. Your annoying voice—it calms me, like some kind of spell. And your eyes, the way they look at me… I feel sick because of the warmth you put in my stomach. I hate that I look forward to your presence, that you’re all I think about, that I’ve developed these feelings for you—I hate it all!” His fists tightened, a mix of embarrassment and anger rising to his face.

Your eyes widened. Was this a confession? Were these compliments or just veiled insults? What was he trying to say?

You stared at him, speechless, before managing to whisper, “Michael… you… you have feelings for me?”

Kaiser glanced away, reluctant to admit it. But there was no denying it—this was, in its own way, almost a confession.

Mind you, Almost, a confession.

"I wish I didn’t." His voice was low, almost resigned, and you couldn't help the frown that tugged at your lips. Why would he want to bury something as powerful as this? It didn’t make sense.

"Michael… " you spoke, your voice barely a whisper. "Why would you wish these feelings away? I… I could feel the same way about you, you know…"

He shook his head slowly, as if each movement was a struggle. When he spoke, his tone was firm but tinged with something that resembled sorrow. "It doesn't matter, Y/n. Even if you do, I can't accept it. I can’t accept us."

His words hit you like a cold gust of wind. "You mean… you wouldn't be able to return my feelings?" Your chest tightened as you forced out the question, though deep down, you already knew the answer.

Michael's silence was answer enough, but still, you couldn’t let it end there. "Well," you began, the words stumbling out before you could stop them, "I guess that’s just too bad because… I really do have feelings for you." Your voice wavered slightly, betraying how hard it was to admit, but the truth had taken root too deeply to be ignored.

You had begun to realize it months ago, maybe even longer. The symptoms of love crept in slowly, almost imperceptibly at first—the way his presence made you feel more alive, the longing to hear his voice even when he wasn’t around, the flutter in your chest with every small gesture. Now, standing in front of him, all those little moments coalesced into something undeniable. Yet, here you were, offering your heart to someone who refused to hold it.

You found yourself looking forward to every visit with him, craving the moments you could be near. Even though you saw each other regularly, it never felt like enough. You often caught yourself inventing excuses just to stay a little longer, clinging to each second as if it might be your last chance to be close.

Your gaze drifted toward him, hoping to catch his eye and find some sign of understanding there. But instead of meeting your gaze, he looked away, his expression guarded.

"As I said before, Y/n, I can't," he repeated, his voice steady but distant.

Frustration surged within you, a knot tightening in your chest. Why couldn’t he just explain? Why was he so determined to keep you at arm's length? "Michael, for heaven’s sake, just tell me why!" you demanded, your voice rising with a mix of irritation and desperation. "Why can’t you? We could figure this out… it doesn’t have to be this way."

You were exhausted—tired of the same vague answer, the same unyielding response. "I can’t" wasn’t good enough anymore. You needed the truth, a real reason to justify the wall he kept building between you.

Kaiser noticed the edge in your voice, and frustration flared in his eyes as he responded, his tone sharper than before. "Because I can't risk everything I’ve worked so hard for, Y/n! I’ve fought so hard to get where I am now, and I can't afford any distractions—not even love."

Distraction?

You blinked, his words hitting you like a slap. He thought this—whatever was between you—was just a distraction?

"H-huh…?" you breathed, the word barely audible as it slipped from your lips.

Kaiser tilted his head back, a bitter sigh escaping him as his jaw clenched in obvious irritation. "Did you not understand what I just said?" His voice dripped with exasperation, as though explaining himself was an exhausting chore.

You felt your brows draw together in a scowl, his words twisting in your mind. Of course, you heard him loud and clear, but all you could focus on was how cruel and dismissive he sounded. This whole "distraction" excuse felt like nothing but bullshit—a convenient shield to hide behind, rather than an honest reason.

"Is that what I am to you?" you said, your voice quivering with anger. It seems as if this was just another excuse of his.

His answer left you both hurt and furious, a bitter mix of emotions twisting inside you. Sure, you finally got the explanation you’d been pushing for, but this? This was what he had to say?

"Love… a distraction?" you echoed, your voice strained as you struggled to keep your composure. "Michael, are you serious right now?" You could barely recognize the man standing before you; this wasn’t the Michael Kaiser you thought you knew.

"Do I look like I'm making this up, Y/n?" he shot back, his tone icy and unyielding. "I can’t let anything interfere. I've worked too hard for what I have, and I won't risk losing it all just to chase after some fantasy. I can’t afford to be blinded by ‘love.’ I can’t afford to be weak. Not now." He took a step closer, his gaze piercing into yours.

You stared into those familiar blue eyes—eyes that once looked at you with warmth and admiration. Now, they were cold and hollow, carrying only frustration and something far more unsettling: emptiness. It was like staring into the eyes of a stranger, someone who had shed any trace of the person you thought you cared for.

"I want to be the best, and I can’t do that with emotions weighing me down," he said, his tone harsh and unyielding. "I need a clear path, free from distractions. Do you even realize how much I stand to lose if I let the smallest thing pull my focus? I could lose everything. I could end up weak… and that’s something I refuse to accept."

His words felt like a cold slap, each one slicing through you. "I’ve sacrificed so much just to get where I am today. So there it is, Y/n. I won’t let these emotions derail me. Not even for you."

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it, a silent testament to the heartbreak squeezing your chest. Was this really it? Was he just going to leave you behind because you didn’t fit into his perfect, distraction-free life? It felt like the ground had fallen out from beneath you.

"This is bullshit, Michael," you snapped, your voice shaking with anger. "You’re just going to drop me like that? After everything? After all the times I’ve been there for you, stood by your side, supported you through every step of your soccer career—this is how you repay me? Do you even realize how messed up that is?"

Your voice rose, trembling with the frustration and betrayal burning inside you. "You can’t just cut me out because I don’t fit neatly into your plans. Do you even hear yourself right now?"

Anger flared in his eyes, and his voice rose, laced with frustration. "Yes, Y/n, I’m going to leave you! Didn’t you hear a word I just said? I can’t risk everything I’ve worked for. I’ve come too far to let ‘love’ make me weak—I’ll lose it all!"

"Why can’t you see that love won’t make you weak?" you cried out, your voice cracking with desperation.

"Tch. I already told you—it’s a distraction," he shot back, his tone cold and dismissive.

Each word felt like a dagger, piercing deeper as he repeated the same relentless argument, as if mocking the very idea of you. He was unyielding, his walls built so high that nothing you said could seem to reach him.

"So that’s it, then?" you murmured, your voice trembling as tears stung your eyes. "All of it? All of this—even me—it’s just a distraction?"

For a split second, something in his expression wavered. The guilt in his eyes betrayed him as he saw the hurt etched across your face. But just as quickly, he masked it, his pride and stubbornness locking him in place. He stayed silent, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach out but refused to let himself.

The truth was, when you first told him how you felt, a spark of joy had flickered inside him—something he hadn’t felt in a long time. But now, with every pained word that left your lips, he buried that feeling deeper, forcing it down beneath the weight of his ambition. He couldn’t afford to let you see it. He couldn’t afford to let himself feel it.

It pained him to see you like this, knowing he was the cause. He never intended to hurt you like this—never imagined he’d be the one to break your heart.

Of course, his ambitions meant more to him than his "best friend." That was the cruel truth—his future outweighed everything, even you.

The silence stretched between you until you finally broke it, your voice trembling. "Is that a yes or a no, Michael? Please… just answer me."

His gaze softened at the sight of you, your face etched with desperation and pain. He truly felt bad—guilt clawed at him—but he couldn’t let it sway him. He believed this was necessary. He believed it was for the best.

"Yes," he said quietly.

The word hit you like a blow, and your head dropped, a broken breath escaping your lips. You never thought it would come to this—never imagined this was how the two of you would part ways.

Quiet sobs began to slip from you, growing louder with each passing second as tears streamed down your cheeks. Soon, the dam broke, and you were wailing into your hands, trying in vain to wipe away the endless flow of tears. Your heart ached with a hollow emptiness that spread through your chest—the same emptiness that Michael once filled, now torn wide open.

It felt as though a piece of you had been ripped away. You and Michael had been through hell and back together, always supporting and lifting each other up. Now, there was a cold, hollow place in your heart where he used to be, a void that felt unbearable.

After a moment, you forced yourself to look up, only to see him walking away, the distance between you growing with every step.

"Michael… mein Schatz… come back… please…" you whispered, your voice breaking. "I can't do this without you…" But he was already too far to hear, your pleas swallowed up by the empty space between you.

Kaiser kept his eyes on the ground, watching his own feet carry him further away. He didn’t dare look back. "Goodbye, meine Liebe…" he murmured softly, the words escaping like a breath.

a/n: so I actually kinda took my time with this so I hope its better 😐

Also I just rewatched aot, tell me why I forgot how FINE jean was in s4🤧😫 (and Levi)

ANDDD IM ROCKING WITH BLLK S2🤤

I'm going to lick his tattoos bro