#Me like 'I wonder how many worlds we will go to!'

[girlactionfigure]

Eulogy

Yarden Bibas’ eulogy for his wife Shiri, and children Ariel, and Kfir Bibas who were kidnapped by Palestinian terrorists on October 7, 2023, from their home in Kibbutz Nir Oz, southern Israel, and brutally murdered by Palestinian terrorists while in captivity in Gaza: 

"Mi Amor"

I remember the first time I said "mi amor" to you. It was at the very beginning of our relationship. You told me to only call you that if I was certain I loved you, not to say it carelessly. I didn't say it then because I didn't want you to think I was rushing to say "I love you." Shiri, I'll confess to you now that I already loved you back then when I said "mi amor."

Shiri, I love you and will always love you!

Shiri, you are everything to me!

You are the best wife and mother there could be.

Shiri, you are my best friend.

Mishmish, who will help me make decisions now? How am I supposed to make decisions without you?

Do you remember our last decision together?

In the safe room, I asked if we should "fight or surrender." You said fight, so I fought.

Shiri, I'm sorry I couldn't protect you all. If only I had known what would happen, I wouldn't have fired.

I think about everything we went through together—there are so many beautiful memories.

I remember Ariel and Kfir's births. I remember the days we would sit at home or in a café, just the two of us, talking for hours about everything under the sun. It was wonderful. I miss those times deeply.

Your presence is profoundly missed.

I want to tell you about everything that's happening in the world and here in Israel.

Shiri, everyone knows and loves us—you can't imagine how surreal all this madness is.

Shiri, people tell me they'll always be by my side, but they're not you. So please stay close to me and don't go far!

Shiri, this is the closest I've been to you since October 7th, and I can't kiss or hug you, and it's breaking me!

Shiri, please watch over me...

Protect me from bad decisions. Shield me from harmful things and protect me from myself. Guard me so I don't sink into darkness.

Mishmish, I love you!

Chuki, Ariel,

You made me a father. You transformed us into a family.

You taught me what truly matters in life and about responsibility.

The day you were born, I matured instantly because of you. You taught me so much about myself, and I want to thank you.

So thank you, my beloved.

Ariel, I hope you're not angry with me for failing to protect you properly and for not being there for you. I hope you know I thought about you every day, every minute.

I hope you're enjoying paradise. I'm sure you're making all the angels laugh with your silly jokes and impressions. I hope there are plenty of butterflies for you to watch, just like you did during our picnics.

Chuki, be careful when you climb down from your cloud not to step on Toni...

Teach Kfir all your impressions and make everyone laugh up there.

Ariel, I love you "the most in the world, always in the world," just as you used to tell us.

Poopik, Kfir,

I didn't think our family could be more perfect, and then you came and made it even more perfect...

I remember your birth. I remember during the delivery when the midwife suddenly stopped everything—we were frightened and thought something was wrong—but it was just to tell us we had another redhead. Mom and I laughed and rejoiced.

You brought more light and happiness to our little home. You came with your sweet, captivating laugh and smile, and I was instantly hooked!

It was impossible not to nibble on you all the time.

Kfir, I'm sorry I didn't protect you better, but I need you to know that I love you deeply and miss you terribly!

I miss nibbling on you and hearing your laughter.

I miss our morning games when mom would ask me to watch you before I went to work. I cherished those little moments so much, and I miss them now more than ever!

Kfir, I love you the most in the world, always in the world!

I have so many more things to tell you all, but I'll save them for when we're alone.

Via: The Hostages Families Forum Headquarters

[thatfrailsoul]

– And I don't want your pity, I just want somebody near me

Divinatory jukebox : "Nobody", by Mitski

tarot pick a pile reading → one, two, three

It really does feel like gambling. The people, the connections, the bonds between us. The search for the right moments, right ways, right rhythms… that takes all the attention, all the feelings, leaving the bits of relationships that we manage to create to be just a mirage. A fever dream we go through with so many complications, anxiety, doubts and fears. Rushing us to the ending, to those cold goodbyes full of tears. And the only thing remaining is to wonder. Did we really experience it? Was it really possible for something like this to happen to begin with? And will this fate chase us down again, forcing us to relive it?

Connections are never easy to begin with. There are too many details and requirements, too much of that complex and at times frustrating humanity in them. Too many to make it work as easily… But we don't help ourselves either. Our mind, our judgement, our anger and frustration that are so easily thrown right back at us, at our own actions and decisions. The answers and explanations that we don't want to hear. The feelings that we don't want to feel because of the fear that it will make it all too real…

This reading is that one message that you are not reading, pretending that you never received it. That truth, that motive or the explanation, that you don't want to make yours. Something that you need to accept, to keep in mind, to learn or do… Something that this world is trying to tell you, with your whole castle of walls around you, hoping that you will allow it to come through. Hoping that you will take a moment to stay in silence and breathe. Listening to your inner voice, that will guide you to that one pile that hides your message in it.

{ Follow me for more readings, reblog or let me know in the comments which pile you chose - I'm really curious.♡ }

P.s. A little question for you ♡

– Pile One,

the clouds: the queen of cups and the knight of wands

picture from → pinterest

Your way of feeling, of loving… of showing it, never was the problem. It never depended on how much you changed for someone, or how much you embraced your own true self. It never was important that you did it for them, how you did it, even if they claimed that it was everything. It never really made any difference, not when all that you did and tried was something that they expected from someone else... Yes, every single one of them.

Every person, every relationship, every connection that faded right before your eyes... They said they wanted it all from you, not realising that they needed it from themselves. Because we do project, we do confuse the things, we do misunderstand the reason behind what we feel. And we almost never admit it, never think that it is only something ours. We cry at what we don't receive from others, what we don't find, what we don't feel. But in reality is at us that we are screaming, not understanding how is it possible that someone that is supposed to genuinely and unconditionally love us, can’t simply make us feel safe and enough within, to the point that we need to seek it in others, begging for it…

But, ironically enough, this story is not about you. You were only the witness of it, again and again, so many times in all these years. You were the person that was used as a mirror, condemned to listen to so many tones in their voices, to see so many contrasting emotions on their faces, thinking that they were looking at you, but not realising that they weren't really seeing you, that they weren't talking to you.

And amidst all of it, you hid yourself. You closed up. Seeking that moment of silence and apparent calm, that space to reflect and think. You tried to understand, to really listen to all those words that are still right here in your mind, hurting you every time you thought you forgot them. You looked for that truth, for that explanation on what you really did wrong, how it could've happen so many times, in so many different situations, with so many different people across the time. But you never found it. So, in doubt, you just chose to never really come back. To not expose your apparently dangerous self to all those innocent souls. To not express your feelings, not through actions nor words, just to not burden them all. Those poor ones that might be forced to endure your wrong type of love.

But it is ridiculous. You don't have so much power over others. No one has such power, except when it is used on our own selves. You can’t be possibly the reason of every disgrace or conflict. And you know it. You are just not able to remind it to yourself, being under all the garbage of their own internal problems that they throw at you without any shame.

It is indeed a too much of a coincidence that it happened so many times with so many different people. But you are not the one that connects them. Or to be exact, not in a way that you convinced yourself you do.

Your love, your ways, just who you are, are not the ones to cause so much distress and pain, you are not the one to broke them down, to destroy their walls and stab them. You are just someone who has a gentle and tender enough way to make them all feel safe. Safe to get closer. Safe to trust. Safe to open up more and more, without realising that all that they were ignoring and bottling down up until now, will simply explode, reversing all their anger on those that are with them, on those that care and want to help them.

You are just that kind, that understanding and patient. Enough to assure others that you won't allow anyone to hurt them so much. That you won’t allow even your own hands to scratch them, always ready to correct yourself and change just to protect their heart. But you can’t always do it. You can’t heal the wounds that they themselves are opening up. You can’t find a cure for an illness that they themselves aren't aware of where it is coming from. You can’t understand it yourself, and then make them understand that you are not the one that they are resenting so much. Not when you both are so resilient in not accepting it.

It is a heavy fate, the one of making others feel so accepted and safe that they don't hold anything back, not even things that have nothing to do with you and what you can make work… But it is not a reason to hide yourself. To keep you in the shadows, never again crossing other paths. It is not your fault that you love strongly and sincerely enough to make others want to escape their traumas, their pains and fears, just for a chance to feel and see this world the same way you did. And it is not your responsibility, the fact that they don't know how to control it, how to sort all of it, once it crashes down upon them.

The only thing you do is love. In all the ways and forms. All you do is being caring, understanding, open… So why would you change it when they see it as something else, as too much or not enough, just because it is different from the love they got used to? Let them go, let them pass by, if they can’t feel satisfied, if they want more as soon as you are willing to give them what others never wanted. But don't do so convinced of the fact that there won’t be someone that will see in you enough. Someone that would feel the same and express it in the same way. Someone that will find you, as soon as you make a step out of the punishment of loneliness that you put yourself in.

P.s. I opened a newsletter! Now you can find my readings and guidance right in your inbox. And, if you enjoy my work, it is a great opportunity to create a connection and community that is not limited to tumblr, but can be able to survive any ups and downs of platforms and times. So, if you would like to subscribe, you can do so completely for free right here.↓

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– Pile Two,

the birds: the king of cups and the two of cups

picture from → pinterest

You crave them, those feelings. The understanding, the acceptance, the complicity, the intimacy… And yet you force yourself to stop before, every single time you catch a glimpse of it, of the possibility to have it.

Can it be called self sabotage? Self defence? Trauma? Perhaps. But at its core is only the uncertainty of what it will lead to. The wander about whether you will truly find someone that understands you, if they will be really so aligned with you like it seems to? If their thoughts will follow the same flow of energy… Or if their mask of appearance will come down, revealing a wolf in the sheep’s skin, ready to devour you and your every feeling.

It just seems to you like a promise of a heartbreak, long before even connecting. All the time spent together, the little moments that were created, every shy way to get to know each other better… only for them to become someone you need to escape from. It doesn't seem worth it, it doesn't seem safe. It feels just like another losing game destined to leave you feeling played.

But… what else can be a stronger protective or revealing spell than our own words? What else can really shows us who we are and who is standing in front of us? What can be powerful and intimate enough to guide us right to others people core, to their soul, overcoming every obstacle they put in front just to protect themselves from others? And how else someone could ever find us, recognise us, without never listening to the voice of our heart, without seeing what our mind hides?

It is a risk, it is a long and intimidating chess game. But it is not at all worthless, not when it gives you a chance to know your opponent. Perhaps discovering that they are not playing to make you lose in your battle, but only to have a chance to be beside you, to get close to you, through a dance of lunges and parries, until one of you loses all the armour and weapons, remaining vulnerable in front of the other… and seeing in their gaze only admiration and the desire to hold your hand to help you get up stronger.

You are protecting yourself, hiding, making silent and fast steps in the shadows, hoping that no one will notice you, no one will reach out for you and pull you right under the painfully strong and inquisitive light. But while containing your breath, feeling that you only want to come back to your own safe bubble... you also, sometimes, slow down and stutter. When you see someone so bright that it is impossible to not cling to them with your eyes. Someone with a voice so sweet, a laughter so genuinely joyful and free, that you keep hearing them inside your mind for days to come, unable to forget what it sounded like. Someone so caring, so gentle and delicate in their ways, that you can't help but observe them from your hiding spot, admiring them like an angel that somehow survived amidst these mean and angry souls. You still do it, even if you tell yourself that it doesn't matter, that it doesn't mean anything because you will never again come out and get closer to them. You still do it, even if later you tell yourself that it was probably all false, a well played role in this life’s theatre. You still admire them, the people. Their ways, their character, their interests. You still feel that desire to come closer, to see their eyes and the whole universes inside them.

So why don't you just do it? Why don't you let yourself free from this cage that you put yourself in, convinced that it would protect you? Why don't you just connect, not for the future, not for a chance, not for the outcome… but only for that single moment? Because connection is not only about the bonds we create, the relationships that we later have. It is not only about if one thing was true or a lie, a promise or a betrayal to our heart. It is also that one moment, that one second, in which you feel that admiration, that excitement, that desire for more. It is that complicity, those smiles, those bright and joyful eyes. It is that interest, or attraction, or even playfulness caused by all the outcomes that those moments can create and make possible now, make them real.

You are not only protecting yourself from the worst, the most dangerous, the most painful moments… but from those that can make you feel safe and whole too. Those that could teach you, inspire you, guide you. Those that could bring those emotions and colours to a life that is now becoming a little too silent, too heavy in the emptiness they are forcing on your heart.

Make that step forward, allow others to see you, to hear you. Allow them to get to know you as you connect with them. Not just for those relationships that you could create and that already overwhelm your mind with all the things you should fear and worry about… But for you two. Those versions of you and them in this exact moment, so innocent and genuine. That don't have any fault. That didn't yet do anything bad, if not feeling called by another soul.

P.s. I opened a newsletter! Now you can find my readings and guidance right in your inbox. And, if you enjoy my work, it is a great opportunity to create a connection and community that is not limited to tumblr, but can be able to survive any ups and downs of platforms and times. So, if you would like to subscribe, you can do so completely for free right here.↓

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– Pile Three,

the birds: the eight of coins and the seven of wands

picture from → pinterest

You welcomed them in. Every single one of them. So many souls that you courageously connected with. So many minds that you genuinely understood. So many hearts that you devotedly took care of… No matter what it took, no matter how difficult at times it was. How often you felt torn apart, consumed, by their lives and stories, remaining with so little patience, strength and courage to take care of yourself, of your days and journeys…

There wasn't anything that was too hard, too much to do for them. There wasn't anyone that didn't deserve more attention, more patience, even as you were bleeding because of them. It felt as normal and necessary as breathing, to take care of them, to defend them… even from your own self, when their voices raised in accusation of your love being too suffocating, your desire to help and care, too much.

One after another they changed their mind, their appreciation, their gratefulness for what you did for them, for your way to be and care… And from being cherished and known as someone who is just so caring and loving, one day, you became someone who no one wanted anymore, not so close to them.

They knew better, they were doing everything right, and your suggestions or worries weren't anymore so needed, they became advices no one asked and apprehension no one wanted to be the focus of. They all became mature, independent, and strong enough to face this world on their own. Forgetting thanks to whom they were able to grow and learn so much, who was there by their side every time they'd fall, even if it was difficult for your own self to stand tall as you were holding them.

And while you couldn't force yourself to be angry at their confidence and growth, you also couldn't ignore the fact that it wasn't only this, there was annoyance and resentment too… for the aspects and ways of you that they used to love, choose and look up at you for. And for a heart that is genuine as yours, who can’t and doesn't want to see the bad in those that you love… it is simply confusing. A change so sudden in their behaviour and preference for you and who you are supposed to be. And so many of their voices, of whom used to beg for you to be more closer, that now ask you with anger and frustration why you are here, so ever present?

You can't understand it unless you are in their mind. And they won't tell you what happened either… Because for them the only one to change was you, now that all that they asked for became too much and not anymore needed for them. So you took a step back. Became more silent, more reserved. Not because you wanted to, because you were shy or afraid of being more… But simply because it seemed what all of them wanted. A connection that is only superficial, without any bits of true bond in it, more distanced, more cold. And, just to be sure, you did the same with others too, those that still didn't had a chance to get to see more of you, receive your attention and love, and now will never do. Because you can’t know if they will truly appreciate you or if, apparently, they'll only use you.

But is it really the right thing to do, the right solution? The one to condemn and treat someone coldly, because of another person that actually deserved it? Is it right to ignore those that want to be closer, just because someone else once didn't stay longer? To don't help those that feel so lost and confused, even when every inch of your soul wants to hold them tightly and show them how to go through it?

You are compassionate, you are gentle, you are caring. You want and need to be this way genuinely, without any expectation for others. You are that kind of person that is healing this world, taking care of it, helping us grow with your love and knowledge and experience. And yet you are forcing yourself to become like others, colder, distanced, not interested in what someone feels or goes through. You are trying to change your character, the way you are, the things that you are devoted to and your morals… And because of what? Some people that got up so easily thanks to your support to think that they made it on their own. So naively, like a child who is rushing to show you how well they go on that bike, not seeing that hand that safely holds them.

They might not realise it now. They might continue to think like this for a really long time. But sooner or later they will look back and see all that you did for them, silently thanking you, hoping once again for your forgiveness. But in the meantime, you didn't do it only to have that back, didn't you? You were this way with them because this is who you are, not for them to appreciate it. So why stop being you because of those few? Why putting on pause who you are, not allowing yourself to be this way with anyone else, until those specific people realise their mistakes?

Be you. Be true. Be open and honest. Unlimited in the way you love and care, in the way you truly engage with others. Don't change yourself. Don't try to be someone else who you are not, don't present yourself to new souls this way, because you are much more. And there are so many people who will appreciate your ways and understand their worth.

P.s. I opened a newsletter! Now you can find my readings and guidance right in your inbox. And, if you enjoy my work, it is a great opportunity to create a connection and community that is not limited to tumblr, but can be able to survive any ups and downs of platforms and times. So, if you would like to subscribe, you can do so completely for free right here.↓

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_

[shiny-jr]

Riddle's domain is so huge! Is the small top part of Heartsyabul like a semi barren land that's dangerous and full of monsters and wild beasts? (like Grim); I can just imagine that's where the dark forest where MC would first drop in

Then if the lore is right, we'll follow downwards to Heartsyabul, then Savanaclaw, then we'll make a run for the ocean towards Octavinelle (bad choice honestly) from which we'll probably end up running away and getting washed ashore into Scarabia... From there; idk how in the Great Seven we'll get to Pomfiere - Magic carpet?? 😳 And then we'll go down down further into the land of souls (Ignihyde) and finally into hell (Diasomnia)... But I do wonder where would our way home be in the map hmmm... A hole? A well? A mirror? Would we have to run all the way back to where we first dropped into; Having to weave and avoid everyone that had surely begun to look for us..? Just a few theories and ideas :3

I really enjoy the world building you're doing, do take your time and thank you for diligently writing!!

-Old fan anon

It makes me happy to see y'all curious about the lore. I actually literally just writing some Savanaclaw lore, but that one is gonna remain hidden in the drafts for a while until I can worldbuild on Savanaclaw more. I still have to work on their map and the other parts that come with worldbuilding such as agriculture, culture, politics, history, etc.

I won't reveal too much, but just because you seem genuinely eager and I just saw how many hearts the image of the map alone got, I'll drop this for y'all. Again, none of this is definite, but here's this.

[noisytenant]

one of those things about viewing oneself as a system is that it's oftentimes just the only thing that makes sense.

like, you can go around thinking of yourself as one single person who just, inexplicably or through some divine fault, struggles to know what they want, shifts priorities on a dime, and always seems to fuck up the things they want in the last second, feeling some mix of disappointment and relief.

someone who always has the right reasons for doing things, except when they have no idea when they did something, which is always more often than they'd like.

or even someone who overtly and knowingly contradicts themself, never stopping to question how it can be so!

so you can be that one person. or you could say, without even putting a name to it: let's just look at the patterns here.

sometimes i feel this, sometimes i feel that. sometimes i value this, and other times that. in a perfect world, i might be able to integrate all these contradictions, but i'm obviously not doing that, because even when i do what i think is right, something always feels a little wrong.

when i split apart the threads, suddenly i can trace a line from past to present that tells me why i am the way i am... when i'm this. and oftentimes this story conveniently excludes many of the details that would lead me down the path to being that. things begin to untangle. you start to see what the whole was made of.

and it isn't even weird that we have these pockets of self-understanding in a world that throws so many contradictory requests upon us. follow all the rules... now know when to break them. don't fool around... now lighten up a little. be silent and listen... now talk and entertain.

so of course you have these forces inside you and of course they're opposing. when the world asks for one, they're often also asking for the absence of the other. they're forced to grow apart. but all of these pieces only have one source to draw from--your personal history, your life. so in that way they're all the same.

the point is--a lot of people are already fighting with themselves, they're just refusing to see it as a fight and to name the sides.

treating these sides as "that weird way i act sometimes" offers you no real options aside from "be less that" -- something nobody has ever fully succeeded in. and when you inevitably become that, all you can think is how you should actually be less this instead.

meanwhile, treating these opposing forces as something closer to a person means you can talk to them, get to know them, negotiate and compromise. and sometimes brawl, or fuck.

and none of this is easy! it happens slowly, confusingly, frustratingly. but once you understand it, you wonder what the hell you'd been doing the whole time. because you believe there is sense to be made, things start to make sense. and your world gets a little bigger.

[little-miss-bioweapon121]

Part 5 Welcome Home

(part 1 here)

(Part 2 here)

(Part 3 here)

(Part 4 here)

Sanguinius and baby head back home for a big party! This is longer than my usual chapters and with the plans I have going they’re likely to only get longer. This is technically a two part chapter but I think it’s just easier to call it part 5 lol

CW: none

The day Sanguinius had announced there was to be a naming ceremony for his youngest son was in and of itself a celebration. His sons wasted no time with the festivities and prepared a feast that very night. Sanguinius recalled the night fondly, a night where the gloom of the future was temporarily forgotten in favor of the joy of the occasion. With both spirits and glasses high it took very little time for the news to reach Baalfora and its inhabitants.

His home was overjoyed at the news. A blessing of course, the Son of the Son, and a second great angel. A new child to be named and brought into the ways of the blood. His people were insistent on planning the celebration themselves, a gift to him and all he had done for them. Sanguinius could hardly protest against it when he learned that Elder Morela would be cooking the food for the celebration.

Her food was a wonder on Baalfora, a master chef in all but official title, and many a blood angel would sacrifice a limb for one of her homemade meals. Sanguinius was no better—he practically dreamed of her stone snake stew.

Sanguinius brings himself back from his reverie as his son fusses from the cradle of his arms. Ah, the bottle was empty. With a wry smile he sends one of the serfs to fetch another bottle. It had taken him a few days to grow accustomed to the feeding schedule of the infant, and even more to be accustomed to the tiny portions he was to be fed. But with time—and the almighty patience of the lady serfs—Sanguinius found himself to be quite adept to his sons care.

It felt like his son was growing by the day now —both too big and far too small. His appetite, at least, had grown significantly in the few days since he arrived. But considering how little the baby had eaten when he’d first arrived it was nothing short of a relief to see the change in him now. A sigh escaped Sanguinius’ lips.

“Sometimes I wonder where in the world you’re hiding all that milk. Your stomach is the size of a walnut little one,” Sanguinius briefly tickles his sons belly for emphasis. The baby is entirely unamused. “And yet you eat enough for a child three times your size!”

Sanguinius stifles a laugh as his son responds to his lamenting with fussy little growls, his brows scrunched adorably in an attempt at a glare—oh what a fierce warrior he would be. It is as the serf returns with a second bottle that one of his older sons peaks their head past the high arch of the door way.

“Father, Captain Antagrion wished for me to tell you that we will be landing soon. Will you require any assistance before then?”

Sanguinius adjusted the baby in his arms once more as tiny hands eagerly reached for the second bottle. The baby had a silly little habit of wildly flapping his wings when excited and if caught off guard could result in a quick launching from one’s arms.

What a terrifying discovery that had been.

“Assistance no, but I seem to have misplaced my radiation shawl. Have you by chance- ah,” The astartes picks a length of fabric off of a nearby chair and hands it to him. Sanguinius hooks the shawl over the arch of his wings and takes extra care in draping it over his baby.

“Many thanks.”

The descent to the surface was smooth and uneventful. The gunship, large as it was, had to land a ways out into the desert but the caravan procession from the city had been alerted and was already waiting for them. The doors of the ship open with a steady groan of the machinery and the blistering air of the midday desert rushes past them. Sanguinius closes his eyes in nostalgic bliss as the distinct scent of ‘home’ washes over him. He may spend the majority of his time on the ship, but in every fiber of his being he knows this is where he truly belongs. The appreciative sighs from his nearest sons echo his sentiments.

Descending the ramp a line of serfs and guards in the rich embroidered Thobe of Angels Fall greets them. They stand at attention as Sanguinius and his sons pass them, occasionally handing over neatly folded radiation shawls to the other serfs descending from his ship. Two elders stand at the forefront with exquisitely embroidered clothes in the colors of the Blood Angels’ legion—two shimmering figures amidst the wide expanse of sand around them. The sight of them has Sanguinius’ wings twitching with the urge to simply fly the distance of the dune to reach them. More than the planet or the city, more even than the familiarity of the cliffs he came from, Sanguinius had missed two of the few people he could truly consider family.

“Don Tameri, Dona Sibalba, it is so good to see you two.”

With joyous relieved laughter the two elders come up to greet him with hugs. The baby in Sanguinius’ arms begins to fuss again, unhappy at being left out of the excitement. Dona Sibalba coos at the sound, peaking through the barest crack in the veil.

“Ay is this the little angel I hear so much of? Oh the little darling! Come come, it is too hot for one so small let us return to the settlement.”

Don Tameri lets out a good natured laugh as Dona Sibalba hurries ahead, gesturing at her serfs excitedly with bejeweled hands. Arms clasped behind his back Don Tameri matches Sanguinius’ more leisurely stride.

“It is good to have you back, my lord. You have been dearly missed.” The guards and serfs around them begin loading into their own sand crawlers, hurrying with all the practiced speed of desert skinks escaping the heat. A few of Sanguinius’ sons tread the sand and join them. Sanguinius turns a warm smile to the Don.

“It is good to be back. It is an honor to serve my fathers will, but my hearts will always ache for the familiarity of home.”

Ahead of them Dona Sibalba lets out a noise of mock frustration that sends her serfs skittering away with giggles. She fusses over a pillow inside of the ornate sand crawler as they catch up to her.

“You would think I was inviting a mere governor and not our lord Angel with how these women gossip! Metiches!” She ushers the men in, heedless of Tameri’s protests at the light manhandling, before closing the door and activating the radiation seals. Sanguinius takes a moment to adjust his wings in the relatively cramped compartment. Even with a full row of seats to himself he feels them twitch and bend at the confines. Once he’s settled Dona Sibalba pins Sanguinius with an expectant look.

“Aver, let us see the little blessing!”

The baby babbles its own agreement from behind the shawl and Sanguinius can only sigh fondly as he moves the corner and reveals the infant. His son blinks owlishly at the sudden change in light and Sibalba coos in delight.

“Oh look at you! You’re the spitting image of your father!”

The baby puts up no fuss as Dona Sibalba picks him up, utterly entranced by the myriad of jewels and golden hoops adorning her arms and head. He gnaws on one massive ruby ring as Sibalba dotes on him. Don Tameri hums his own consideration.

“Mmm, he is a little thin no? Babies should be rounder,” Tameri tickles one of the baby’s feet and gets a little kick in return, a tut of disapproval. “He is too small. Like the crag-lizards.”

Sanguinius doesn’t let himself express how much those words truly sting. Ever since he could remember he’d seen the elders on Baalfora always admonishing even the fattest of babies, fussing over their meals and appetites, he knows this is done out of care and familiarity. But given his sons strenuous origins it almost feels like a personal failure to hear it said out loud. Sanguinius can only smile thinly, he knows it means nothing.

It must mean nothing.

Dona Sibalba thankfully saves him from further scrutiny, her squeals of delight eliciting raucous squeaky laughter from his son.

“Oh we will fatten this one up, feed him so many good foods and little sweets. Oh yes we will, oh yes we will!”

The baby flaps his downy wings in delight as Dona Sibalba playfully coos at him. The tinkling of her jewelry has his son very firmly captivated and Sanguinius makes the executive decision to retrieve him before any sort of unfortunate pulling incidents can occur. Again. Don Tameri wiggles his fingers towards the baby while he speaks.

“The people have been planning such a gathering for you, I have not seen them so excited for an event! Every day you hear them and see them,” Tameri moves his hands as though conducting a magnificent symphony. “The bands, The music, and the dancers with their silks, oh and the food! Ah the food!”

Dona Sibalba smacks Don Tameri playfully on his shoulder.

“Always thinking with his stomach this one! No matter the event, it’s always about the food for him!”

Sanguinius feels his hearts clench with the nostalgia that floods him in the moment. Don Tameri and Dona Sibalba are some of the only people left who he grew up with. To see them now in their old age so successful and still so full of life brings a strange sort of painful warmth to his chest.

Oh how he had missed these two.

“Im excited to see what our people have planned. I remember the naming ceremonies from my younger years and how grand these events were. I can only imagine how impressive it will be to have been planned by all of them.”

The rest of the ride to the city is spent reminiscing and catching up on their lives. Sanguinius speaks of the battles he’s faced and the moments he’s shared with his fellow primarchs, and the Don and Dona share the woes of nobility and the plights of leading a stubborn people in his absence. Long before the walls of the city come into view, the sounds of celebration reach their ears. Trumpets and cheers crescendo with every second they come closer and as if on cue shimmering pieces of confetti begin to flutter past the windows.

Oceans of people line the Main Street as the caravan makes its way to the city center. The buildings are covered in glimmering banners of every shade and color and garlands of fresh flowers hang between lamp posts and roofs. The people are everywhere, waving and cheering, held a respectable distance away by stone faced city guards. The sky is a shifting rainbow of confetti both stifling and inviting. Sanguinius feels fondness bloom in his hearts, more so as his tiny son stares wide eyed at the window, but there is an undercurrent of weariness that chases the feeling. There is always a level of performance that’s required in events like this— something he’s never been overtly fond of.

The Don and Dona, as sharp and astute as they’ve ever been give him warm encouraging smiles. The sandcrawler slows to a stop as it reaches its destination and Don Tameri makes to exit.

“You’ll be just fine my Lord, there is plenty of good food and drink to be had first!”

Dona Sibalba pushes the Don out of the vehicle with a firmly planted sandal to his rear and he stumbles out with wheezing laughter. The Dona pauses at the door with a sympathetic sigh.

“I know how it is, but there will be less of the posturing here than usual. We celebrate your son tonight, and even the nobles know better than to bring politics to something like this,” She holds her hand out as one of the guardsmen comes to help her down. “Enjoy yourself, Sanguinius. There will be few celebrations like this.”

With a moment to calm himself Sanguinius tucks his son to his chest and steps out into the light of the city center. The cheers and music hit a fever pitch and Sanguinius can only smile at the excitement of it all.

The celebration has officially begun.

[amethystfairy1]

Sorry to continue adding to the backlog of asks but I wanted to inform you of last nights dream because you do not understand the amount I am affected by your tippy taps--

So we're in TTSBC, which I know exclusively because my brain said, "Oh hey, it's ttsbc!Tango!" At the start of the dream. He's, for some reason, currently topside, although it is dead night. We're in a car dealership. All of a sudden, Tango locks eyes with some random person who's vaguely wearing blue (the whole rest of the dream is in third person as a spectator except for this moment, where I'm Tango and lock eyes with this guy-- by which i mean our faces are 2 inches apart and we're staring each other down for all of 0.5 seconds-- and then I spawn in as a seperate character next to Tango). Tango looks at me and him and I start booking it down the car-dealership now turned parking garage (which is how ik it's night, it's one of those multi-story garages and the level opens to the sky and it's a deep midnight blue outside). We're running and absolutely leaving the guy in the DUST, but then he starts catching up. Dreams. Good news, Tango, apperently is a really good pickpocket because he stole BMW keys at some point! So we get in the BMW and drive the heck away. (I know nothing about cars, but upon googling, the car looked most like a BMW XM. This is irrelevant, but I remember it too well not to share. Why is it a BMW? No idea. I don't drive one, I don't think about them ever, and I only know it's a BMW because the letters BMW were plastered on the front)

We speed away like crazy in the same direction we were going (this parking garage is like over 50 miles long atp honestly) until the car breaks down, at which point we get out, completely casually as though nothing just happened, and I wake up, roll over, see it's only 5 am and I can sleep for another hour, and clonk back out, but not before vaguely going "huh. Didn't know Tango knew how to drive a BMW" which committed the dream to memory.

Fun fact about me: I very rarely remember my dreams. At all. Let alone in the VIVID detail I remember this. Now I'm wondering how many such dreams I've had about these characters loll. I know I had one involving Ren in some capacity at some point, but that's it.

Anyway, I think I got a prophetic dream about there being a Tango-based chapter today. I'm just that in tune with the world apperently loll.

I have provided reference photos of the dream. Basically:

Except imagine Tango looking sly asf holding car keys and being visible through the windshield in every shot

(Just now realizing it also involved cars, I'm so good at this /j)

Anyway, thank you for providing me with entertainment both while conscious and not apperently! I was going to send this ask when I got home from school, but the new chapter took full priority, and I forgot about it until my mother asked for her car keys back just now, so here we are!

Wait this is SO FUNNY!

HOW DID TTSBC!TANGO KNOW HOW TO DRIVE!? THEY DON'T HAVE CARS IN THE UNDER-CITY! OH MY STARS!

I'm so glad my tippy taps have so deeply wormed their way into your brain 😅

[nijigasakilove]

Another amazing episode! Safe to say at this point this isn't the game world, but another world based on the game. Pretty obvious that Grace is the actual protagonist here which explains why these routes and events seem similar, but different. Unfortunately, Grace is NOT beating the MC allegations lol.

I wish I loved anything as much as Lambert loves magical wands. Thought we might have been making some progress with he and Anna, but nah she is still very much a Grace simp. I don't even think her brain would allow her to be attracted to anyone else at this point.

You know I never even considered what Grace's original spirit must be going through. Seeing her locked up in a cage like a bird was really sad. One day she just lost consciousness and lost her entire life to some random middle aged dad. Shades of Bookworm. She had her own life and ambitions and they were kinda stolen from her.

Anna's servant trial went pretty well lol. She looked so cute in her maid outfit, but more importantly she learned a lot about what it means to be a noble and care for your community. Too bad she thinks it's too serve as Grace's servant rather than be queen herself one day lmao. What's really cool to me is how much the Auvergne family care for their community and people. Might seem absurd to have 300 people as servant staff, but employing that many people ensures a large portion of your domain have well paying jobs and can contribute to economic development/taxes. It's a reciprocal relationship that leads to prosperity at large. It's no wonder so many people look up to Grace's family.

I thought the maid who could warm up things with her hands' story was so sweet too. Not to be demeaning, but she was literally born to be a made/hairstylist. Just perfect for the job and it's great the Auvergne family never looked down on her or made her feel like she was lesser. Treated her with so much dignity!

These Anna and Grace misunderstandings will be the death of me, they really be in two different worlds when they talk lmao. Grace over here thinking she's prepped Anna well to be queen and Anna just thinking how good a servant to Grace she'll be. Yuri route supremacy

[marzipanilla]

A good pop in bruiser can be fun. Ignore them. they're punching the wall. it's their thing.

Oh wow, Jasper and Steven on a road trip would be something. Steven at the first gas station outside of Beach City filling up the tank and Jasper rolls off the highway sound barrier and into a ditch and he's just like ??? need a ride ?? and she's just like instantly NO only to keep showing up after fighting like, bears or some shit while he's trying to get set up at a park your RV campground. Steven: you SURE you don't want a ride ?? Jasper: I AM NOT FOLLOWING YOU Steven: I never said- Jasper: if anything you are following ME. they are truly a great odd couple dynamic. Steven having to bail her out of a police station, are you ready for that ride now ?

Hahaha. Nolan having to learn to use cameras on Earth specifically just to spite Spider-man is fucking hilarious. Debbie like oh ?? are you interested in holding on to the memories of our time here?? and Nolan just having to be like : /

hehe. JJ instantly trusting Omni-Man bc of his mustache and Peter having to be like ??? you know nothing about this alien man! And his MUSTACHE makes you like him ?? what has friendly neighborhood spider-man done to draw this hate ??? JJ instantly stating the truth that Omni-Man DOESN'T wear a mask, and it's clearly the lack of mask not the mustache (it's like 90% the mustache).

Seriously what are the levels of villainy in Invincible ! where are the different understandings and tiers ! where is the explanation for why the GDA doesn't just work with everyone !! is it a budget thing ??? is the reason so many ppl showed up to the GoG tryouts bc they just needed the health insurance ?? apparently even well to do hero teams like TT were fucking starving and not doing well unless someone who was independently wealthy was bankrolling them ! (rudy/Robot) LIKE. arguably The Order is the evil mirror to GoG but we are literally JUST learning they exist at all! not to mention they seem more sinister six than Injustice League ?? unless I am very unaware of what Sinister group got up to, they def seem more low level than villain team specifically teaming up to fuck w heroes. They don't even seem to give a shit about heroes !! they just are after CRIME

Debbie meeting all the Order's exes in her villain support group xD she got passed up the chain from the 'my partner robs banks when we're broke' group to the 'trying to take over the planet nonsense' group. Debbie wondering if it's ethical that Mark is getting tips on how to beat villains from their PO'd exes who just know what buttons to push and her having to be like hmm if I knew someone willing to punch Nolan would I want them to do the most emotionally damage in the process as well ??? and just going along with it xD

Her and her new friends both instantly yelling at the guy trying to rob the coffee shop they came to meet up at rather than cowering w the rest of the patrons. like OH. maybe recklessly endangering myself bc I find most villainy mundane and annoying is a learned trait. Them just enjoying some time together before Debbie just going 'do you ever wonder if you could have stopped them, and do you ever feel a rush realizing you could have asked them to do something worse and they probably would have? just for you?' and just getting nods rather than disgust. ugh. Let her admit it was the personal injury that hurt more. let her be horrendously selfish that her good thing got screwed up by some stupid evil empire. She DOES believe in doing the 'right' thing ! in helping people ! but dear god, why should she be obligated to hold up such a higher standard of it?? most other peoples' work life balance doesn't also include 'keeping the guy who can single-handedly destroy the world from doing that'. forget about placating Nolan, placate Debbie. she deserves a chance to contemplate doing horrendous shit to humanity, as a treat < 3 Maybe if the GDA and GoG hadn't SUCKED so hard my husband wouldn't have betrayed you have you thought about that Cecil (instant regret but damn I think she likes to think about other people in his life also failing to notice what was under the surface and just wanting some of the blame on the dead and not just her)

Her and Mark just stewing in different brands of guilt.

Debbie knowing Cecil is watching so she walks STRAIGHT at a generally ignored low-level problem knowing he wont risk something happening to her bc Mark would be upset and having to send agents after something he normally would leave to the cops. stop wasting tax payer dollars Debbie : / that's my tax money Cecil : )

The core mystery of what the fuck is Nolan up to just built up and paid off so well in S1, and there really hasn't been a great through line in any of the other seasons ?? Stuff For Later keeps happening.. and not.. stuff that builds up to something important. Something cool will happen Later !! the show keeps insisting. something cool could be happening NOW.

While I'm not too familiar with the DCU- your batfam meta posts are intiguing- so in transfering some of the broader strokes from them- I think you tackling a 'Mark isn't Nolan's biological son' fic would be fascinating. Sort of a step to the side of the 'what if Mark never got his powers' fic that sometimes pop up in the fandom

OOOOOO chewing on this currently, hm, the much a distinct flavor of exactly what you’re talking about, but the potential for more family drama depending on WHO knows. Does Mark know?? Is he waiting every day only to be crushed? Does he confused non-Debbie features with Nolan’s? I suppose I’m not the most enthusiastic about non-power AUs, but I think there’s something very fun to explore about Mark having to settle with, if he knows all his life, he will never have powers? I think the trajectory of his dreams will obviously shift, I can see him still having that distinct fatherly idolization, but perhaps embraces being useful to the GDA? Cecil’s number one intern—only intern—curtesy of nepotism, ha! There is something tickling me about Mark taking the Robin Route/Role for the Teen Team in terms of having no powers, just insane skills, BUT there’s something way more delicious about intern Mark when s1e01 happens and Mark tries snooping around to find out the truth about what happened to his Dad.

I wonder if, with Mark having a whole another father, if they’re more or less distant relationship, depending on WHEN Nolan entered Mark’s life? Like if Debbie met Nolan later for this, or just for fun, they dated once, separated (Mark being born during then), then they happened to stumble into each others lives again and Mark’s already been born, anywhere from tween to teenager so there’s a gap in how close they are. I feel like one important aspect of the whole Family Drama is how close they’re supposed to be, a functional, loving family turned upside down? So I wonder what more distance does. I wonder how Nolan copes when his family is entirely human and he can’t project onto Mark.

I love thinking about these, omg.

[completeoveranalysis]

[5]

You're right, that does sound bad.

Absolutely fascinating that the powers of the feathers collecting together is making Sakura glow like that, like she's evolving or transforming. Except she's not even in there really, which is still awful.

OHO HERE WE GO.

Honestly the tension behind all this is pulled off REALLY well. They really make it LOOK like there IS enough power built up here in Sakura to pull that off. Especially when it essentially comes down to a power that relies upon the cumulative experiences of everything the readers have gone through to get to this point, which is a lot, and means that it's the reader's memories themselves that make this all the more powerful of a moment.

IT'S NEAT.

AND ALSO - ELDRITCH HORROR SAKURA? THE WINGS UNFOLDING WITH SO MUCH POWER THAT SAKURA IS A FORCE WITH ENOUGH SHEER POWER TO RIP APART THE FABRIC OF THE UNIVERSE?

PEAK.

And all in the service of wanting to bring people back to life.

Which, in hindsight, makes it really really funny that the Beetrain anime did their own plot so badly that it broke the purpose of the entire story to begin with, but oh well!

ALSO I'M HAVING A MOMENT OF SUDDEN CLARITY. In the cover for Chapitre 212 I was talking about how there were 14 little water droplets causing ripples that we could see, and how that was kind of the same number of worlds we visited. I never thought about it before but SAKURA'S WINGS ALSO HAVE 14 STRANDS IN THEM.

AND LIKE it's not about the number of physical feathers, because there were a bunch more of those, but Evil Wolverine's plan hinges on travelling to a number of Worlds specifically - and we went to 14 of them. And there are 14 parts to Sakura's wings. So it was always 14! They showed it to us all along! It was a concrete plan!

At least from a planning perspective anyway! I don't think it's a solid RULE that there were only 14 worlds they went to, since it's left pretty open for them to have visited other worlds inbetween and off screen and even some of the canonical worlds we went to were 2 worlds in one, but still! I just think it's neat! 14 clear arcs, 14 main worlds, and 14 pieces of the wings that will destroy the universe as we know it.

[vaguely-concerned]

walking through lucanis' mind prison. the tam lin of it all

[machinesandman]

"?!"

The way this alternate got creative in how to dodge so effectively, using the thruster of the mounted arm missile as a way of increasing the dash to a dodge, it impressed the Ex Maverick. Enough that he had to pause and appreciate such a move, it was something he himself would have tried many, many, years ago when younger. But older versions of himself wouldn't, far too wrapped up in ego, power, and urges to use every new tool to be higher and in advantage over someone else.

"Good."

Vile was pleased. That means this one had an edge over that other alternate, not blinded like himself used to be. Vi will need that. Adaptability it what we were always good at once... Stay that way, be better than the rest of us.'

The older version of the two stood now in the indented ground, small crater of a sort, and he brought himself to his full height once more. The dust slowly settling down around him like an ominous haze in the air, leaving Vile silhouetted. That energy shield dissipating with but a thought as he began to turn, arm bending backwards, palm open. Preparing a new counter or attack- but Vile held his hand up. Making him stop in his tracks and wait. Honorable even now, with the raw honesty out in the air. That lifted hand lowering as all the energy he was gathering was depleted, put back into reserves.

Brows furrowed under the helmet as he listened intently then. Attacked...? From the sounds of things, it couldn't have been Mavericks. Extremists as he said have been deploying the virus on their own, so maybe it was those Emerald Spears bastards? If they even existed in this alternates world, or at least something similar to them. Vile was left wondering the specifics of how trying to cure it was even going, if the other worlds X was involved... Was he even still immune? Like the X of his own world? Had to be, otherwise he wouldn't be there.

"Well shit." The war machine strode out of the impact zone he had created, to stand closer to his alternate once more, enough for polite conversation, but not enough to indicate he would be standing down. "Sounds like a few are trying to find some sort of gain from causing that sort of destruction." A part was curious, almost enough so, to see if Shaska could have any input on this other worlds issue. But he sure as hell wasn't going to bring it up to her, not their circus. He had faith in Vi and the other side of reality. Or maybe faith was the wrong word... Maybe he was starting to feel that damnable Hope so many spoke about...

Wait-- that was a good question actually! Why would that other variant want involved? Vile felt his instincts suddenly flare, various possible outcomes flitting across his mind. "That is a big concern I share. I can think of two possibilities off the top of my head, and neither one are good." Even more so if a different Sigma, or some other figure head, is pulling that other Vile's strings. "For one, he could be there to try and get it to use as a weapon for himself. I can tell you for certain that most of the others of us have one hell of a grudge against X, Zero, and the Hunters as a whole. If he got hole of your version, maybe he would want to use it was a way to wipe MHHQ off the map. Strategy speaking? It would cripple any resistance."

He hummed then, shifting his weight sideways with the slight tilt of the helmet. "The grudge leads me to the second one. It could be thrill of the kill, just to try and take down you as a way to prove his superiority, or worse infect you to be like him. And then go after your worlds X and Zero. Not sure whatever ya want me callin' em'."

"Either way, he can not be suffered to remain a threat... It could be much worse than even I might be thinking." He motioned with one hand then, in a sort of offer. Something meant to let him choose to continue their fight, or keep it on a pause.

Miserable, that's how it sounds. Vi can only hazard a guess at the timeline, at how rapidly the virus advanced. How swiftly everything in his alternate's world decayed. His own experiences in a broken mirror. The spread had been slowed here, if only because of how deadly infection was. Killing the subjects so quickly was a mercy of a sort, although no one could really call it painless.

You enjoyed it? That glitch must have gone a long ways back. Although Vi couldn't deny the thrill of combat, the pride in his work, he suspected that this... reveling in the chaos, was not that.

Vile moves backwards, dodging as effectively as expected. Really, it would have been disappointing if the uppercut actually connected. What is a surprise however, is the thrusters mounted in the soles of his companions boots. It makes for a quick retreat and regrouping effort.

Shit, I can't do that. The raising of eyebrows under his visor. Getting airborne is a new trick, and one the Maverick Hunter would definitely be considering modifications for in the future. "I'm impressed." A quick scan of the other's armor is tucked away for later.

For the first time in a while, he's grateful to have teammates with flight capabilities, this at least, isn't out of the ordinary. A missile pops out of his gauntlet armor, rather than firing at Vile though... he breaks into a sprint towards his incoming opponent. The rocket's booster flares while still attached to his arm, helping him pick up speed. His dash turns into a slide just barely under the alternates path.

What he can't make up for in natural speed, he can make up with resourcefulness. He's had to use plenty of tricks when sparring with the other S-ranks. Nonlethal momentum is one thing he can handle. The weapon clicks as it disappears back into his arm, one of them is pulling punches after all. Vi gets back to his feet with a sigh, inspecting the impact zone he'd missed with a hidden grimace. Close call.

It's funny how casual this feels. It's easier to talk like this in a way. Functions split, less time to overthink the answers. More honest. Still, he isn't quick to retaliate, if only because his alternate asked a pointed question. He holds up a hand, to signal a proper pause in their skirmish.

"Xan-- X, and several other research teams have been studying it. Working on a vaccine." Slow, grim work. Comprised of mostly human scientists to avoid accidental infection. "...the primary research outpost was attacked a while back." A real dent in any progress.

"Since then, it's been deployed like a bio weapon by extremists. Completely clean areas become ground zero out of the blue." It'd only happened a few times, but even once is too many. "That's why it's still out there." Why it hadn't been fully contained. "We still don't know where it came from in the first place, or how they're getting their hands on more of it." A pause, and he's crossing his arms, thoughtful.

"...actually... now that you've got me thinking... what the hell would that other Vile gain from getting in the middle this? Our virus is lethal, and there's been no sign he's spreading anything else." So what then, is he just in it for the thrill of the kill?

[lawrence-songs]

An anon, meaning well: how does interacting with bendykins feel?

Me, attempting to restrain myself to the best of my ability: ahem. I mean. It's wonderful.

[imminent-danger-came]

Do you think that -in the inevitable MK vs. his friends confrontation- Mei will accidentally seriously hurt him with the Samadhi fire? 🤔

Since strong emotions can cause it to run haywire, and there is nothing that would make her more afraid than having to fight her best friend.

There is NO way that they are completely done with the Samadhi fire. (Unless she lost it?? Subodhi did say she 'once' wielded it. So not anymore???)

But yeah- I bet it would come back into play during the MK/Mei battle. Especially if LBD mistook MK‘s destiny for her own. (Since that one vision she showed made it look like MK was burning before the world exploded. And she wanted everything he ended up having; the staff, his own powers, the Samadhi fire -indirectly, and well, a new title that implies destruction on a reality shattering scale.)

My view is that post the Embrace Your Destiny special, they resealed the Samadhi Fire (unsure if Mei still has her piece with her or if they successfully resealed it into 3 rings this time). We at the very least know she doesn't have it in s4 (MK has to save her in 4x01, she's worried about losing her sword in 4x05 which she didn't need with the Samadhi Fire in EYD, the Subodhi quote you mentioned). But, I don't think Mei using the Samadhi Fire again is completely out of the question. There are things that have come back that I never expected to be acknowledged again (The 1x01 seal being the same as the 4x01 and 4x14 flower fruit mountain seal was a huge shocker for me).

So the Samadhi Fire coming back into play with the MK/Mei battle? That would work super well! Especially with the way characters tend to reach for power and endanger their loved ones. It's a huge risk to take again, but if they feel they don't have any other choice it's something we know they're willing to resort to.

[fluffle-writes]

I'm really curious about what might happen after we're done with all the Overblots at NRC and Yuu finds a way home

Like, will that be it? Will there be some kinda spinoff story afterwards? I wouldn't be surprised if they kept doing events - but what will become of the main story?

[rosicheeks]

.

[nanamiskentos]

SHE TOLD YOU THAT SHE CELIBATE, SHE TOLD ME I COULD NAIL HER SH*T — gojo satoru minors dni

PART I. of the new years letters, a series of fics dedicated to some of my lovely mutuals! 🎁

prologue. → you wish gojo satoru would stop trying to ask you out. not that you don't like him, but dating the one guy that you're smacked silly about would mean that he could break your heart and leave you in ruins. so it's best to keep some distance right?

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. college au, reader wears a skirt, reader is choso's twin and yuuji's older sister, but no appearance detailed. kissing, making out, óral (f) receiving, general bitchiness and fuckups 😚 ensemble cast of poor bystanders (geto, shoko, sukuna, yuki etc)

word count. 10k! song inspiration. gang baby — nle choppa

a/n. it's because of that one edit by satorupedia that's going around rn. yall know which one 😭 art by touno_stupa on twt!

dedication. yayyy decided to start my little gift series for new years with this fic inspired and dedicated to @fushitoru who was one of the first blogs i followed on here before i was super familiar with jujutsu kaisen. aashi writes thee most wonderful gojo fics that are so well characterised and heart-stoppingly adorable and HAWT. 😁 🤭 and i easily associate her with physics/college au gojo now, ever since her spiderman gojo fic that lives in my head!!!!

gojo in this fic:

ACT I. don't puck around and find out!

"i ran into gojo today," choso says, his voice as unbothered and monotone as ever, scraping the gravel lazily with the heel of his scuffed combat boots, "or he ran into me."

"gojo satoru?"

"how many gojos do we know?" your twin brother huffs, giving you a dry side-eye. but before you can retort something equally acrid, he's yanking at the sleeve of your sweatshirt, halting you midstep, "wait. car."

you blink out of your tired daze just in time to see a battered camry putter past, its engine groaning like it's on its last legs. just how you feel after a long day of seminars and lectures. the car rattles down the street with the grace of a tin can tied to a string.

"thanks," you mutter, half-heartedly as you shift your laptop case from one tired arm to the other, "could have been the end of my genius academic career."

"would have been a short one either way," choso quietly quips, earning himself a sharp elbow to the ribs.

"so?" you press on.

"so, what?"

"what did gojo say?"

"ohhh," choso drawls, in that irritating way of his that indicates he has no idea how to deliver good gossip, news or any form of tea, "he asked if i wanted to play hockey for his team tomorrow. they're down a player ever since kento went on exchange."

"hockey?" your eyebrow arches, and skepticism curls your lips for choso is hardly known for his athleticism. you mean, you're sure he has the physical ability in him somewhere but you (and the rest of the world) are yet to see it, "are you gonna join the team, then?"

not that you care about gojo's stupid, state-tournament winning team. of course not. you're just curious. and curiosity is harmless.

it has nothing to do with the fact that you woke up last night wanting to jump gojo satoru's bones. just like you did the night before, and before. and the week before that. yeah, suffice to say that this has been going on for a while.

"nah," choso says, shaking dull, greasy strands of dark hair out of his eyes, "got placements tomorrow."

right. placements. choso's all about pathology and lab medicine and test tubes, while you get queasy at the mere mention of haemoglobin. and it unsettles you mildly at how your twin brother's eyes light up at the mere mention of a blood test.

"and?" you prod when he starts to drift off again, his attention wandering like it always does.

choso is often like a calm river. slow, broad and lazy.

this time, you pull at his one of his headphone cords to reel him back, "did gojo say anything else?"

choso gives you that dull look, quiet but loaded. like he's already solved a puzzle that you didn't know you were trying to hide. it just makes your stomach twist, "why do you care what gojo satoru says?"

"i don't," you snap, far too fast, like your tongue is racing your brain to a crash site. the lie sits heavy in your throat, thick and obvious.

choso's pale and dry lips twitch, and you wondered what happened to the lip balm you threw into his christmas stocking last year, "should i have told him you could sub in for his team instead?"

"no-one likes a smartass, cho," you grumble, speeding up your steps as your twin leisurely rummages through his fraying backpack for his house keys. you roll your eyes and push ahead, jamming your own keys into the lock before you die of boredom waiting for him to dig through the trash heap that lies at the bottom of his bag, "anyway, i was just asking. you brought gojo up."

choso trails behind you, his tone infuriatingly casual, "you always get weird when someone mentions him. i thought you guys were friends."

"we are friends. and i don't get weird."

"you get so weird. even yuki said so."

"i love yuki, i do. but she has no idea what she's talking about —"

the door swings open, cutting off your false deflection. standing there is yuuji, with half a sandwich dangling from his mouth like he's some kind of feral creature. there's a smear of mayonnaise clinging to his cheek as he yanks a red, track hoodie over his tank top.

"mmph! hey, you guys!" he muffles through a mouthful of bread, waving at you with the enthusiasm that only a teenage boy could muster after inhaling half the fridge.

"where are you off to?" you peer at your younger brother, your eyes zeroing in on his mutilated sandwich. a sandwich that you're certain you made for yourself this morning, leaving it for a study session upon your return.

"track practice," yuuji says, swallowing the last bite whole, "then dinner with fushiguro and kugisaki." he's already halfway down the driveway, sneakers untied and laces flopping on the pavement behind him.

choso narrows his eyes, "got money? or a water bottle? a hat? did you wear sunscreen?"

"i'm good!" yuuji calls back without breaking stride, waving a quick hand at the two of you.

"why don't you hold his hand and walk him to school, mother?"

"shut up," choso grumbles as he brushes past you into the house, throwing you an exaggerated scowl of wounded, elder-brother pride over his shoulder, "why don't you hold gojo's hand to hockey practice?"

your bookbag swings through the air, connecting to the back of choso's oversized head and a loud thud follows.

ACT II. long overdue and lacking a spine

you had been in this library for hours, eyes blurring as the words in your textbook stubbornly refused to make sense. it was all a gross blur of terms and diagrams, and your $8.00 coffee had gone lukewarm an hour ago.

study, pass, graduate. get a good gpa. that was the plan, no distractions.

your phone, however, had other ideas as it sat innocently next to your stack of notes. you tapped the screen quickly under the guise of a 'quick break' but before long, you were deep into instagram stories. someone's dog, a flyer for a rave that you definitely weren't going to, and then, of course, him.

gojo satoru. on someone's reposted story with a classic, grainy photo of one of the campus's most darling boys. long arm draped casually over some girl. both of them lit in the neon glow of what looked like a party bus. he wasn't even looking at the camera, just flashing that effortless grin that you had seen your entire life growing up. and the girl was gorgeous, obviously. not that you cared about that.

but speak of the devil and he hath appear. a long shadow fell over the table, and you felt the chill in your bones, trying not to shift in your seat.

"go away, gojo," you muttered, not even deigning to look up.

"how'd you know it was me?" his voice is teasing, all light and airy as he's pulling out the chair next to you.

"what can i say? lucky guess," you reply dryly, keeping your eyes glued to the suspiciously-stained textbook. worried that you'll look up and your iron resolve will disappear from one glance at big, blue eyes.

but out of the corner of his eye, you try not to twitch at the sight of the soft, pale blue hoodie that swallows his broad frame whole. thick, white strands of hair that fall gently over his face. and that cloying scent of mint and something faintly sweet that leaves your ears hot and your heart sitting in your throat.

study, pass, graduate. get a good gpa. that's what you tell yourself in a now failing mantra.

"are you following me today?" you ask, flipping a page with exaggerated nonchalance, like you're not about to tear up pathetically from a stupid crush.

"caught me," gojo says, the grin audible even in his voice, "i just couldn't resist finding you. is that what you want me to say?"

you finally look up, swallowing at unfairly fine features, "saw you were at some party yesterday. i didn't think you'd be on campus today."

gojo just laughs, the sound soft and infuriating, "keeping tabs on me now?" and he's rifling through his bag for something, "or you don't think the library's a good look for me? i'm broadening my horizons. testing the waters."

you narrow your eyes, willing the heat rising in your face to stay put and not crawl into your voice, "i think you're testing my patience. i have a test tomorrow, so if you're here to waste my time..."

"maybe i just wanted to hang out with my friend," gojo says, tearing open a kitkat wrapper in an obnoxious way that echoes through the silent hall, and the crinkle of plastic grates against your nerves, "we haven't seen each other in ages."

"don't you have a lot of other people to hang out with nowadays?" you're mentally beating yourself with a bat at your question, wincing at how it sounds like you keep count of who he hangs out with, and you're pathetically down bad for him. like a 90s singer begging on his knees for a kiss.

"i mean, i could hang out with them," gojo says, breaking his kitkat horizontally like a monster, "but they're not you."

his sunglasses are gone, revealing eyes so blue they look otherworldly, and he's throwing you that smiling, lopsided grin that makes your heart run around a room and bang into the walls. but no. you were not going to let gojo satoru get to you. he probably made every girl feel like this, like they were the centre of his fast-paced universe. until the next shiny thing came along.

besides, gojo satoru dated models. or stunning cheerleaders. the kind of people who looked good under strobe lights, and in the glow of his party bus digital camera pics.

and hey, it's not like you were self-depreciating or awfully insecure. you liked who you were and you would never change it for anyone. quiet and ambitious. reserved, but down for some fun. you'd like to think you were the type of person who saw the world in a beautiful, cinematic light. but it was maddening how gojo satoru seemed to bring out the most juvenile issues in you that had your stomach turning itself into ugly knots.

"gojo," you try to sound as nonchalant as possible, "are you even here to study?"

as in why are you really here? please ask me out.

gojo looks unbothered, unshaken, "coffee. cake. maybe even some flirting, if you're up to it."

the universe hates you. it has a way of delivering what you want right into your hands, when...you don't exactly want it.

you blink at the white-haired man, disbelief bubbling under your skin, "you're not serious."

"why wouldn't i be?"

"c'mon, satoru. everyone knows you're not the actual dating type. you ever been in a relationship that wasn't pr and lasted for more than two weeks?"

absolutely bonkers at how your heart and your tongue are not on the same wavelength at all. it's like your mouth missed the memo and is just firing bullets that have gojo's grin faltering a bit, as a flicker of heated annoyance flashes in his eyes. even hurt, but it's gone too quickly for you to read into it.

"didn't realise that you thought i was that much of a joke," and you're not fond of how gojo's voice is quieter now, and a pretty sneer is dancing across his lips. you're biting your lip before you lose your stupid, petty resolve to not get involved with someone who could truly break your heart.

"if you didn't make everything a joke, it wouldn't be," you snap at him, and you're not even sure what you're angry at. there's no reason to be annoyed, or frustrated or even hurt and snippy with a friend who came and sat with you to catch up.

but you don't want to untangle whatever you're projecting onto gojo satoru, so you let bitter words spill over, "some of us don't have time for your games, gojo. we have real lives to deal with."

gojo's expression shifts completely, and that playful spark in his eyes is replaced with something colder as he stands up and shoves his hands into his pockets, "right." and his tone is clipped, pissed, "got it. no time for games."

you watch as gojo walks away, already tapping away on his phone, but his footsteps are quieter than you expect. part of you wants to call after him, to take back the teeth and claws that painted your words.

but instead, you just look away from him and grimace. you must have pulled an awful, twisted face — for the man sitting across from you leans in and asks if you need to take an aspirin, or if you're low on fibre.

ACT III. between the covers

the bookstore smells faintly of old paper and new ink. a sharp contrast to the chill lingering outside, so the warmth hits you like a welcome blanket. the air buzzes with the muted chatter of customers, and the occasional beep of a cash register.

you're winding your way through the aisles, set on two missions. find that jacket-cover book that you had been wanting for weeks, and to hunt down the manga that yuuji had begged you to pick up for him.

you dart past a couple lingering in front of a 'booktube' bestseller display, narrowing avoiding a child wielding a stuffed dragon that you can only assume is smaug the magnificent from the hobbit. straight into the quieter section of the store, tucked in the back and smack-bang right into —

thud!

your shoulder collides hard with someone else, sending you stumbling back a step.

"fuck's sake. watch it," the person snaps, his tone sharp.

"maybe you should —" you start to retort, before the words die and patter out on your tongue as your mouth goes dry.

gojo satoru, ladies and gentlemen.

he's scowling at you, with sunglasses pushed up onto his head that expose those ridiculously pale eyelashes under the glow of the overhead lights. he's layered on a crisp varsity jacket, over a thick hoodie, all shades of soft blue and grey. and he looks irritated, with thick brows furrowed at you. but you don't miss the faint surprise that flutters across his face when he takes you in.

"seriously?" gojo murmurs, though more to himself, and his voice still holds an edge that has you wilting, "out of all the aisles in this store..."

you blink, caught somewhere between an apology that dances on the edge of your lips, and a bewildered laugh at how the divine powers deliver the worst luck on you. instead, you shove your hands deep into the pockets of your aviator jacket, "sorry. didn't see you."

gojo's shoulders relax, but just barely. as though he's still caught in the heavy fog of tension from your last words to him. but to your mild credit, he doesn't quite look ready to storm out either. progress?

"so. what are you doing here?" you ask, trying to break the ice and pretend that you're not doing internal pirouettes.

"just had to pick up a textbook," gojo mutters, holding up a thin and over-priced looking book on something like...quantum mechanics, "exams are coming up. gotta keep the top spot, you know."

you blink, "you're actually studying?"

gojo raises his eyebrow, lips twitching into the faintest smile, "what? you think i roll into my classes and ace everything through sheer willpower? or i spend all day being a joke and annoying everyone, right?"

you sigh, feeling the frosty, ice-gaze settle once more over you, paralysing you from head to toe, "look, gojo. i don't know what came over me that day," and now you're being sincere, looking away from his narrowed stare, "it's like some crazy, evil monster came over me and it possessed me. i think i incarnated some demon king in me and i said all that mean shit."

he shifts slightly beside you, and you don't miss at how gojo's lower lip juts out at your apology, or how close he is to you right now. "and i was jus' being stupid. swear i don't think you're a joke." you try to pick up some random book, pretending you're very busy as you speak.

but it's very hard to look genuine when you've just picked up a glossy copy of 'stand and deliver: a hard look at fixing male erection problems.'

it earns you a small laugh, light and quick, that has you almost falling to your knees, and you can hear choso's voice in your head. muttering out a dulcet 'i told you so. you want him so bad.' but it's worth it as gojo leans against the nearest shelf, the annoyance from earlier starting to ebb.

and for a moment, gojo studies you and his expression is unreadable. for your part, you're pretending to read the back cover of 'stand and deliver' and some blurb about how this award-winning author managed to help her husband 'get it up' after twenty years of marriage.

but the tension in his posture dissolves, relaxing further and gojo hums, "noted." that's all he says, and an awkward silence hovers. it hovers so uncomfortably, leaving you floundering for a new topic until gojo's voice breaks the silence.

"choso's doing good, yeah? i heard he got a girlfriend."

you smile, "yeah. yuki, she's like really cool. i don't know how he did it."

gojo snickers, "i asked if he wanted to play hockey and i think he's been avoiding me all week."

you try to pretend its not because of how you re-enacted your little spat with gojo, demonstrating the entire thing for your twin brother. who had just called you stupid afterwards. among other not-so-flattering terms, with little consideration for your crushing, beating heart.

"you going to suguru's party next weekend?"

ah, now that's a curveball.

because, again, you are your own brand of cool. or so you'd like to think, so this isn't really a matter of pitying comparison. but geto suguru is like on another level of effortlessly vogue. at least in your eyes. you know that he's gojo's best friend and he delivered a (controversial) and killer project on gene editing last semester. you know that geto's involved with gig photography as a hobby, and thus, has personal access to some of the coolest bands in the city.

and you also know that he occasionally waves a hand to you, but it's not like you actually know the man. it's just mutual association.

"i wasn't planning on it," you hesitate, for you really had been planning to cram through a mid-term session, "but someone asked me to go as their date."

gojo's smile evaporates, "who?"

"naoya zenin," you say cautiously, watching as gojo's face twists. like he's resisting the urge to gag and tear his hair out.

"naoya? he's like a walking billboard for being an entitled cunt," gojo groans, running a hand through glossy hair that has you trailing your gaze over slender, sculpted hands.

you narrow your eyes, "he seemed...okay. smart, i think."

"oh, he's smart. i'm not questioning that," gojo crabs, "he's so arrogant though. i grew up seeing that guy everywhere. our families were like, half friends."

you cross your arms, suddenly defensive, "are you warning me? or just mad that he asked me out?"

gojo seems to flounder for half a second, quick enough that you could miss it and he could deny it, "jealous of naoya? please," and he scoffs as he leans back against the shelf, "i have taste. unlike some people."

"you can't be the one giving me a lecture on dating etiquette. i mean, how many dates do you have lined up for geto's party? two, three?"

gojo gives you a sly grin, "more than that, hah. gotta keep my options open."

"tacky," you wrinkle your nose, trying to pretend that you don't feel like you just guzzled a gallon of curdled milk, "and classless."

"yes," gojo sighs sadly, "and endlessly charming. it's so hard being me," shooting you back a quizzical look as he pulls up to the register, paying for his textbook.

as he paid, you linger near the shelves, pretending to browse while stealing glances at gojo satoru. there was something different about him today, something quieter that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

and on gojo's way out, he pauses in the doorway, turning back to look at you. his expression is still entirely unreadable, his gaze lingering for just a second longer than usual. and then he was gone.

ACT IV. blush confidential

there's a soft hum of pop music wafting from someone's phone, blending in with the rustle of fabric and the hiss of a straightener. your bedroom is a whirlwind of motion and chaos, with clothes thrown over chairs, and pre-game drinks piled up over your vanity.

"i can't believe you're not coming with us," you gripe to yuki, watching as she lounged up on your bed, denim crinkling as she shifted to adjust herself.

"tch, you know i love a good party," yuki grins with sparkling ideas, "but choso and i have a date tonight. he's been texting me about it all day."

you snicke at the thought of your hapless twin, "yeah. he was practically glued to your dm's. ran into the kitchen table twice this morning."

shoko snorts from her spot at the vanity, from where she's running a brush through cropped, chestnut hair, "choso nervous? i need to see that," she catches your eye in the mirror, "do you still have that lip gloss?"

"on it," you're digging into the vast depths of your purse, grazing your wallet and a hal-featen granola bar. stubbing your finger on an opened gel pen, before clutching a small shiny tube that you toss to shoko.

"so," shoko smacks her lips, "how's it going with naoya?"

you blink, pausing in the middle of capping all your drying pens, "what do you mean how's it going? nothing's going."

your friend swivels on her stool, raising a thin eyebrow, "he's your date at this party, right? and why him, of all people?"

"seriously. that guy's got a reputation. and not a good kind, for a very good reason," utahime chimes in from her corner, where she's yanking on a ribbon woven through her hair.

you shrug, suddenly feeling defensive under their collective scrutiny, "hey. he asked, i said yes. it's not that deep."

shoko exchanges a pointed glance with utahime, and both of them looking equally skeptical in a way that has you flushing.

"he's just annoying, you know," shoko points out, "he thinks he's better than everyone else, and half the time? it's just hot air."

"and the other half?"

"still hot air," shoko flatlines, "you can do better."

"anyone's better than gojo," utahime mutters, "you don't want to be stuck with him."

yuki's snickering, and you're doing your utter best to pretend that the mention of gojo satoru doesn't have you crawling up and down the walls like a termite on crack.

"speaking of gojo," yuki drawls, running a comb through a golden sheaf of thick hair, "is he going with anyone to this party?"

you freeze for half a second, before busying yourself with some new body mist that you picked up from a sale, all vanilla and coconut and macademia, "i ran into gojo the other day," and you keep your tone as neutral as possible, "and he said he had a few dates."

"ugh," shoko groans, wrinkling her nose, "of course he does," and utahime mutters an affirmative, exasperated sigh, echoed only by yuki, who pauses mid-brush to look at you sympathetically.

"what?" you snap, defensive, "why are you all looking at me like that?"

shoko tucks a thin strand of hair behind her ear, "well, i mean. you like gojo, right? like really like him?"

"huh?" the question catches you so off guard that you're left sputtering, as the perfume leaves a sharp and awful taste on your tongue, accidentally leaving a fresh spritz into your mouth, and not the curve of your neck.

"oh, blech. absolutely not," you say vehemently, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, "i don't like him like that. not that i think he's awful or anything —"

utahime crosses her arms, white sleeves brushing against each other, "he is awful."

"yes, thank you for that, utahime. but he's just not my type," you finish firmly, "he's loud. he's disruptive. he can't take anything seriously. i can't date that."

yuki gives you a long and knowing look, "oh, he likes you," she says lightly, as though she's telling you a casual piece of news, and not something that has you biting your tongue till iron spills, "he's been crushing on you for so long."

you feel your stomach twist uncomfortable, like little, evil goblins are dancing in your gut, "that's ridiculous," you mutter, fiddling with the clasp of your purse, "if he liked me, he would ask me out properly. and not date half the student population."

"he probably thinks it's fair, because you keep turning him down," shoko says matter-of-factly, standing up to grab her bag.

"i just don't think he's good for you. or anyone," utahime mutters, earning a pinch from you.

ACT V. stereo love

normally, gojo thrived at these parties. suguru was always able to pull a crowd that straddled the line between chic and cool, with just enough alcohol to keep things interesting. the thrum of the bass-heavy music should have been the perfect escape after a gruelling day spent staring at equations, leaving him half-convinced that his course coordinator was plotting against him and wanted him dead.

but now gojo satoru was just jittery, restless. and he hated that.

so for now, he leaned against the kitchen counter with a full cup in hand, watching people spill out of the living room and into the backyard. it seemed that other students had been aching for a party, something to take them off mid-terms and yet here he was, scowling like a storm cloud. he took another swig of his drink, ignoring how his own stomach was doing unexplained cartwheels.

"you good?"

suguru's low voice cuts through the noise, startling gojo enough that he has to tighten his fingers around his cup so sticky beer doesn't spill over pristine tiles.

gojo waves his closest friend and confidante off, "i'm fine. obviously."

suguru's frown deepens, though it's obscured by his loose, choppy dark hair. and there's skepticism painted all over his face, "you're never this quiet at any party. i thought that by now, i would have had to convince you not to jump off the roof."

"you think too little of me."

"you think too much of yourself," suguru drawls, but he's leaning against the counter beside gojo, as leather and cool metal rustle against each other, "so where's your date? or dates, i should say?"

gojo freezes, his cup halfway to his lip, "come again? what are you talkin' about?"

suguru arches a thin brow, "it's practically all over campus, man. apparently, you had several dates with lovely, young ladies lined up tonight. and i tried to defend your fragile honour, said it was too ambitious even for you. but..."

this revelation hits gojo like a punchline that he wasn't in on, and then it clicks for him. oh, he had started that rumour a few days ago. in the bookstore, to you. his brain replays the scene like a cruel, little highlight reel: the way your expression had wavered minutely, just for a moment, when he had straight up lied and claimed that he had a few dates.

truth be told, gojo had only said it to make you jealous, to see if he could ruffle you and play your game even better.

but now the joke was so clearly on him.

because gojo satoru had no dates. and you? you were here with someone who wasn't him.

suguru's following his gaze across the room, and gojo doesn't even bother to hide his petulant interest. he can see you standing near the back walls, laughing at something that naoya zenin, mayor of all things putrid, had said. naoya, with his stupid green roots and louis vuitton jacket, standing just a little bit too close to you for gojo's liking.

but before he can stew in it any linger, suguru's reaching out and pinching his ear. hard.

"ow! fuck was that for?" gojo's yelping, jerking away from his clearly evil, traitrous best friend.

"that," suguru says evenly, "was for looking like a lovesick idiot. pull yourself together, man."

"i'm not lovesick," gojo weakly protests, rubbing his bruised, throbbing ear and moving further away from suguru geto.

"you're not exactly screaming cool and collected," suguru dryly comments, "sulking like a sore loser while your crush laughs at another guy's jokes."

gojo feels his face heat up, just a little bit, because he knows that suguru's hitting close to home, "i don't sulk and do all that whiny shit. second of all, it's not my fault she went with zenin of all people. it's up to her if she wants to be stuck with someone who talks about his family's real estate portfolio as foreplay."

suguru snorts, and it's clear that he's not playing the role of sympathetic best man for life, "you know what's more obnoxious? watching you fuck around like this. you need to figure out how to ask her properly."

"i did all that!" gojo shoots back, throwing his arms up so his drink dances over the edge of the cup, "she said no. each time. you know what they call a guy who can't take a hint? she thinks i'm a loser!"

"and are you?"

gojo narrows his eyes, "am i what?"

"a loser."

"is it easier for me if i just say yes?" gojo half-heartedly gripes, "is that what you want me to say?"

"or," suguru says calmly, "you're a guy who hasn't proven he's worth saying yes to."

gojo groans, tipping his head back so he can block out the vision of his irritatingly wise best friend, "you sound like my grandmother."

"that's not even an insult. your grandmother is on some metal shit," suguru counters, unbothered, "and you sound like a twelve-year old. you can't flirt and sleaze your way through this. if you want her to take you seriously, i don't know how else to say this, you have to stop being...you."

"excuse me?"

"no. stop, don't make that face," suguru scowls, "you know what i mean. stop being a stupid flirt, and be a genuinely better person. otherwise, you're just spinning and burning out your wheels."

"did you pick up a self help book?"

suguru elbows him, sneering, "i'm trying to help you. if you don't want my help, i'm telling her you have an std."

"maybe you should just do that. end my misery," gojo downs the rest of his drink in one go, the burn of cheap beer doing nothing to ease the olympics in his alimentary canal. what's worse is that suguru is right, the bastard always is.

suguru claps him on the shoulder, "relax, satoru. you've got charm in spades. just use it...wisely."

"yeah, yeah. thanks, man," gojo mutters, brushing him off as suguru wanders away, probably to mediate some dumb argument between that big oaf, toji fushiguro and the even bigger oaf, ryomen sukuna. honestly, why were they even invited?

but gojo stays where he is, eyes flicking back to you. away from the distracting curve of your thighs in that skirt, and rather on how interested you look in naoya's stupid, animated gestures. and you look so at ease, but there's something hot and sharp twisting inside his gut.

suguru's soft, measured voice echoes in his head, "prove yourself as a person first."

oh, yeah. gojo could do that. he would absolutely do that. for you, he'd do just about anything, short of donating his vital organs (but he would definitely be considering it). but how hard could it be to be better? more mature? more grounded?

gojo satoru can handle all that. all he had to do was be a dignified, charming man. you know, someone who puts his best foot forward into the world. someone that you might actually consider taking seriously. someone calm and respectful.

if you were happy with naoya zenin, then who was he to interfere? who was he to ruin that for you? even if the guy looked like wile e. coyote when he smiled. even if naoya zenin was the most smug bastard to walk the earth.

gojo scowled at nothing in particular. but the point was that it wasn't his place to meddle. not if it meant risking your happiness. all he could do was be the best version of himself. polite, kind and above reproach. a good and respectful friend.

ACT VI. a shot of love, on the rocks.

"please, i want you so fuckin' bad."

gojo satoru is on his knees. at a party, in the middle of the living room. for you.

you feel like your mind isn't able to process all this fast enough, like your brain is on some pause. the music is still thumping in your head, but not as fast as your poor cardiac muscles as you're rendered frozen from pathetic, piercing blue eyes blinking up at you.

"please," gojo satoru repeats, and his voice vaguely warbles out like he's kinda lost his marbles and —

let's rewind.

five minutes ago, you had been standing with naoya zenin. and despite your initial reservations, you had been entertained. he's sorta witty, and definitely loaded with snarky remarks that cut through the noise of the party. it's hard not to laugh at his biting commentary, although half the time he's skewering people for fun, and the other half? just out of pure spite.

his golden eyes gleam with that edge, the kind of sharpness that makes you think of a hyena circling around its next meal. naoya is definitely full of himself, but it doesn't help that he's also ridiculously good-looking. and he knows how stunning he is, but its bothering him that you're not showering him in enough compliments for it.

still, he's here with you. he's your date. and you're doing your best to remind yourself of that. naoya is the only option you have at the moment, and he's definitely offering you more attention than anyone else tonight.

from across the room, utahime gives you an exaggerated, pained thumbs-up — while shoko shrugs in her usual blithe manner, but she gestures for you to smile more. you plaster on a wider grin, a little too obvious but naoya doesn't seem to notice.

"you know, if you're getting bored of all this, we could always find another room," naoya's low hiss slices right through the bass-thrum of the pulsing room, "do a little more than just talk."

for a moment, it's easy to imagine slipping away with him. but the sharpness in his killer-smile makes something in you bristle, like he's already envisioned you saying 'oh yes, naoya! please take me to bed!' and you shake your head, and give him an amused look.

"maybe later," you say lightly, "not now."

naoya zenin doesn't seem quite offended, but his smile grows wider as he stands up straight again, from where he had curved his tall frame into you, "i'm a patient man. fine by me, 'm gonna get some more drinks."

and you watch as his golden head of hair disappears into the crowd, leaving you all alone while the music blares around you, like a suffocating fog. you rub your temples, wondering if you should just go after naoya and tell him to go to town, something for the night's enjoyment. but before you can go any further, you hear a shout cut through the noise.

"hey!"

you whip around, blinking in surprise at gojo satoru.

but also not quite the gojo that you're used to. the one that you grew up with, and held hands with in kindergarten, one who smiled easy and laughed too loud. it seems he's ditched the oversized hoodies and varsity jackets tonight, opting for a black tee that fits him a little too well and dark cargo pants that only highlight...

you're getting distracted. but it's hard to remain focused, when he's walking towards with you. seemingly determined, as his white hair falls forward over thunderstorm-eyes. for a moment, you're not sure if you’re hearing him over the pounding music, or if it's just your own pulse making everything seem louder.

"i hate that you're here with naoya," gojo says suddenly, and his voice is low and serious, something that you've never really heard from him before.

your brow furrows, "what?"

"i lied about the dates," he continues, as words just jumble out his candy-pink mouth, "i don't have a bunch of dates. fuck, i don't even have one date. i only want to date you."

you blink, and then you blink once more, because again what?

the sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you think you might have misheard the man. his blue eyes are wide and earnest, and they're staring right at you.

and before you know, he's on his knees. muscular thighs bending so his knees hit the cool tiles with a heavy thud, hands splayed out for you.

"please," he implores, "you gotta understand. i need you to feel what i feel, because it's not even a passin' thought, i swear. it's not even a stupid crush. this is like —" and he's gesturing wildly with one hand, still kneeling like a knight about to beg for his lady's favour, "this is destiny."

"gojo," you manage, "are you on drugs?"

the white-haired man, bless his sassy heart, rolls his eyes, "no. i'm on beer and vodka. will you please let me finish?"

"yes, but what are you doing?" you hiss, exasperated and sibilant, as more eyes turn to the most ravishing man on campus, who's absolutely off his rocker. and there are phones being pulled out, god help you.

"what am i doing?" gojo smiles, and it's unnervingly wide, "i'm like laying it out all here for you. my love. because that's what you are, to me. like you're everything. and i swear everyone knows this already. should i call you my sun, my moon, my entire universe? it's like time stops when i see you, a-and trust me, i do physics. i know time shit," and he must have caught at how your mouth is flapping open because he suddenly wags a finger, "no! i'm not done. i haven't even told you how the world fades, and all that's left is you glowing. like a star that i can't reach."

he's placing a hand on his broad chest, digging into the tight top clinging to his pectorals, like he's being dramatically wounded, "i have to reach you. i have to be with you."

you're not sure what parts you've processed, or what part of this slow train-wreck has settled in your head, "are you, like, actually begging right now?"

gojo's eyes flash with the intensity of a thousand suns (well, fuck — gojo's awful poeticism is rubbing off on you already). you can hear the low snickers of two men that had been beating the living daylights out of each other half an hour ago, those fuckwits that go by toji and sukuna. you can hear sukuna's deep mutters about how no-one ever would like toji enough to do this for him. and yep, you can hear them scuffle again.

"yes!" gojo booms, and more than a few heads have turned now. you wonder if naoya zenin is watching in the background, and realising that this isn't a battle he wants to pick, "i will kneel for you. like i'd do this shit for eternity, even if my knees hurt so bad right now. but as long as you give me a chance to prove my worth. and my devotion, d-don't forget that! deep as the ocean, endless and vast. and the stars align...oh, how they align for us."

"ah, satoru," you cut in, and you realise that you're now smiling. embarrassment and mild humiliation be damned, there's a quirk tugging at your lips, "you can get up now. this is a bit dramatic."

gojo blinks, not missing a beat, "i'm dramatic because i'm in love, okay? and —" he swivels his head to the crowd, grumbling, "shut up, sukuna! i heard that, i'll beat your wonky ass. you don' know shit about love."

he's turning back to you, all sticky and soothing sugar once more, "where was i? eh, my confession. well, it's all for you. and it's me, givin' you every part of me. beggin' you to see that you're the only one who can break the walls around my heart."

you think that you've completed a full speed-run on every stage of grief that there is to experience, and if the small plink! coming from someone's phone is any indication, gojo's monologue has already made it's way onto someone's private story. and so naturally, everyone will have seen it by tomorrow.

"can you get off your knees? you look ridiculous."

gojo's grin falters for a split second before he straights up, all with a hefty groan as he runs a hand through snowy strands, "ridiculous? i'm being vulnerable as hell, and you think i look stupid?"

"a little," you admit, but you're reaching a hand out to push a strand of thick hair out of his eyes. and it's maddening at how gojo seems to tremble mildly under your touch, at the brush of your fingers against his temple, "kneeling at a frat party is crazy work."

gojo sinks his teeth into a plush lower lip, "that was me trying to show how much i care, and all that sweet shit. you make me lose all my cool, and this isn't even a joke."

"you never had cool, and now you've lost your dignity too," but you're blushing, and it's a giddy feeling at how he's now close enough that you can feel his body heat.

gojo satoru's eyes twinkle, "maybe. but i'd do all that again if it won you over."

"with your future oscar nomination?"

the man shrugs, broad muscles rippling, "he who be a fool for love is far better than he who doth never dare to try at all."

"fair point," you murmur, feeling dizzy in that familiar scent of lemon candies and mint, like the world is swirling around in a heady haze, "do you wanna kiss me to seal the deal?"

"yes please. i think i'm gonna pass out and — mmph!"

you've pulled yourself up, and thrown your arms around his warm neck, drawing gojo into you. crashing your lips into his before either of you can say anything else. it's an urgent, reckless kiss. like a dam has burst and all the pent-up emotions that you've been carrying have finally exploded.

gojo's lips are soft, but demanding, taking more and more air from you. they fit against you with an ease that feels almost too natural. and his broad arms come around your waist with a force that leaves the air punched out of you. he's holding you tightly, as though he's afraid that you'll just disappear if he doesn't keep you close enough.

you can feel the heat of his body against yours, the muscles in his arms that flex as he pulls you in, deepening the kiss. all while his mouth moves against yours with a slow and deliberate intensity, as his tongue parts your lips. all so messy.

when gojo finally pulls away, the last brush of his lips catches your quiet whimper. just as his breath goes ragged, and you're left standing there, dazed, with your forehead resting against his. you can still feel the warmth of his lips on yours, that electricity that's crackling and buzzing through your veins as you giggle.

gojo, however, doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath. he tugs your wrist with a sharp, swift motion. but his grip is firm, not harsh as you pulls you away from the living room, "c'mon. let's get outta here."

shoko's eyes are wide, her jaw practically locked in disbelief, "what the hell just happened?"

utahime's lips curl, "someone took gojo's brain out and replaced it with a clone. ah! geto, what did you do?"

suguru has been standing near the kitchen counter, absolutely floored, and he's shaking his head so hard that he feels a headache forming, "hand on my heart, ladies. i told him not to pull any stunts. swear on destiny's child that i didn't tell him to do all that."

ACT VII. i bet we'd have really good bed chem!

gojo satoru has absolutely lost his mind. but you wish that he had lost it a bit earlier, because you're practically pawing at his top now. critically working to make quick work of the tight fabric, letting your fingers run over hard planes of muscles and lower.

right until you're reaching a trail of soft white hairs that disappear into the band of his pants.

"seems like you're just as desparate as me, hah," gojo snickers, and his broad hand is trailing further up your thighs, letting your skirt bunch and crinkle under his ministrations. thick fingers brush over dewy cotton, and you moan.

"s-satoru!"

"you don't even know how long i've w-wanted this," and his hand clenches at the fabric, gripping it so tightly that you fear it may just be on the verge of tearing, but you can only buck your hips into him further.

no longer even mindful of how you must be already dripping onto the palm of his hand, "and i thought you knew. i r-really thought you knew how much i wanted you."

his middle finger is gliding through your damp and searing slit, with clinging strands latching onto his skin as you muffle a whine into his chasing, teasing lips.

it's sending deep, low curls of arousal in thick waves, settling low in your groin and you don't even care what room of the house you're now in, someone's bedroom with a dark, stylish bedspread and vinyls up on the walls.

the force of his large hands drives you down onto the bed, pressing your back onto the soft mattress.

and gojo looks so pleased, at how you're splayed and sprawled out underneath his torso, his hands tugging at your now bare thighs to spread your legs even further. pulling them far enough so they come to rest on either side of his face.

"fuck, she's so pretty. even better than i imagined," and gojo's voice is husky and low, almost strained, "and believe me. imagined her plenty." the sound of drenched cotton being torn rips through the air, slippery and resistant from your arousal.

it's even stubborn as the fabric refuses to budge, until it gives way under the force of gojo's tug, soft and tearing. leaving your pussy open to the cool, cold air. bare for gojo's eyes to rest upon and widen.

his lips brush against your thigh with an uncharacteristic gentleness, one that makes your entrance clench and wink.

but gojo is nothing if not teasing, and he feels light-headed. pressing featherlight kisses to the crevice of your thigh, and then closer to your aching mound. but even he cannot hold off for much longer, and he's pressing a flat, lazy print of his tongue against your cunt.

that first munch sends a burst of tangy sweetness dancing across gojo's tongue, and he thinks he might just bust a load right then and there. the heat of your clenching cunt is almost overwhelming, but hey.

gojo's never been a quitter, and he doesn't care if he creams his pants at this very moment, he needs to hear that sweet whimper of his name from your lips again.

his lips part, blowing a quick breath on your aching clit, right as his fingers begin to press and meld into your syrupy folds. it's got you practically jumping further into him, so wet strands are clinging to the very tip of his nose. and gojo knows that this is heaven. that he's unlocked true paradise.

"satoru, c-can't you...?"

he's too busy running his tongue over your clit, drawing small circles with the very tip of the hot muscle, "can't i what, pretty? don' want me eating you out?"

and you are so adorable, pushing your head up to scowl down at him with furrowed brows, but the flush in your cheeks paints you the most beautiful shade of cherry red. and gojo vows to spend the rest of his life ensuring that this shade never leaves your cheeks.

"can't you get to the eating part? thought that you were gonna — f-fuck! hnngh, 'toru!"

he's pulling your thighs tighter around his head, and he doesn't give a fuck if this is how he goes. suffocated in this tantalising heat, with your fingers lacing themselves into woven patterns in his white hair.

he's lowering his tongue once more into your throbbing pussy, making sure that his pleased vibrations send pleasurable rumbles right through your core.

grinning and slurring his tongue further into you, right as you buck desparate hips over and over. dragging yourself against his chin, so he's sure that the lower half of his face must be glistening with your sweetness.

gojo absolutely thinks he can get used to being like this, at having you angle and force his head further into your cunt. letting you angle and toy at him and use him for your pleasure. he snaps his teeth around glossy strands of arousal, once and then twice, before delving back in.

making sure that his spare hand finds your clit to draw quick flicks and shapes over it, pushing a finger right up against the throbbing hood.

"satoru, ah, satoru! 'toru!" it's all you can even manage right now, just chants and groans of his names, as he's practically sunken your hips into the mattress, while he's on his knees for the second time this night.

"hey, none of that, yeah?" and gojo's gently tugging at your arm. trying to get you to stop muffling your whimpers and cries, because he just needs to hear your adorable sounds. and he needs to hear your bird-like cries when you come undone.

what a joy it is for gojo. to be able to dive between your legs and run his tongue between your folds. he's losing his mind at how your body trembles under his touch, and how he makes the mistake of peering up at you. your lips are parted, open and glossy. and your brows are furrowed, as lashes flutter against your cheek. you have to cum, gojo satoru needs you to cum right now.

and so, he exerts all his effort ten fold into having you finish. it's so sloppy, and so messy. gojo lets his own eyes dip shut, letting himself feel your glossy, glistening cunt pulse around his tongue. and let there be no doubt that gojo satoru is a munch, for he's eating you out in such an ardent manner, and it basically sends you barrelling towards a heart-stopping orgasm, where tears spring to the corners of your eyes.

you needn't have even tried to warn him of your impending climax, for gojo knows in the way that your legs quiver and get sloppier over his face. stars fall over your vision as you heave and toss your head back, muscles rippling as "satoru, satoru!" falls from your lips, long and drawn out as the rest of the world goes dark around you.

you gasp, struggling to inhale as the syrupy air is stolen from your lungs, all while gojo runs his tongue through your folds, head spinning with the dizzying rush of sensation. it's as if you've been swept away, hurtling towards space, weightless and disorientated.

only to crash back into reality as gojo seemingly hasn't stopped letting himself taste all of you, with not a drop of arousal wasted. your back is further pressed into the soft mattress beneath you, and the surge of overstimulated numbness follows, all pleasurable pins and needles and ferocious need.

"look at that, 'm already addicted," gojo coos, almost to himself, scooping a finger through the translucent gloss that leaks from your cunt. bringing it up to his mouth to wrap his tongue around, "think you can handle giving me another one?"

you let out a weak, breathless laugh. your gaze lingering on gojo's face, the soft moonlight that casts an ethereal glow on his features. his chin still faintly gleams, coated in your mirror-sheen and his lips are a plump, rosy red. you part your lips, propping yourself onto your elbows, but before you can form the words, the door slams open with a force that makes your ears rattle.

"i've looked in every fuckin' room in this house, and i swear to everything holy, satoru. if you chose my bedroom, i'm gonna —"

geto suguru's voice cuts off mid-rant, his words dissolving into a strangled, pained gasp as he takes in the sight before him. gojo, kneeling between your legs, wearing a ridiculously pleased grin. just like the cat who got the cream. you let out a squeak, hastily tugging your skirt over you, but it's hard to look innocent when gojo is still unabashedly pawing at your thighs.

geto pales, his jaw going slack, and he looks like he's about to collapse, "god help me. satoru, i'll kill you tomorrow," and then he shoots you both a nasty look, "and you're both paying for new sheets."

"so you and gojo are...dating now?" choso pries, with a tone that is entirely too casual but his eyes are keen. your twin is nursing a cup of coffee while he absolutely demolishes a plate of fried eggs. he had been quiet so far, but it's clear that curiosity gave out and now he's peering at you like a big owl.

you try, or do your very best not to smile too hard. to not look giddy and ridiculously pleased, "yeah, i guess we are," you admit, keeping your voice as level as possible.

choso blinks once, before setting his fork down and shaking his head, "i knew it. it was only a matter of time," he mutters, and without further ado, he resumes shovelling eggs into his mouth, utterly unfazed.

before you can respond, sukuna appears in the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame, his tattooed arms crossed and his expression dripping with disdainful amusement, "oh, i was there," he drawls, sharp fangs flashing in a wicked grin, "that loser pulled the dumbest, most dramatic stunt of all time. got on his knees and everything."

choso freezes mid-chew, raising a thick brow as he glances at the older man with mild interest, "wish i'd seen that," he mumbles through a mouthful of toast.

to your utter astonishment, sukuna nods gravely, his face taking on an uncharacteristically serious look, "yeah. i've got a video if you wanna watch."

your jaw drops as you glance between them, "this is officially the first time that i've ever seen you two agree on anything," setting your mug down with a thud, "if i had known that dating gojo would bring about world peace, i would have done it ages ago and —"

yuuji bounds into the kitchen like an overeager puppy, his blush-pink hair still a mess from interrupted sleep. but he's clapping his hands together like he's just won the lottery, "finally! look at that! everyone's getting along for once."

sukuna doesn't even bother to hide his irritation, shooting yuuji a withering glare. but it's hard to take him seriously when his own pink hair rivals yuuji's in sheer disarray, "don't push it," sukuna warns darkly, grabbing a glass of orange juice and downing it in one morose gulp. he slams the empty, cold glass on the counter before stalking off towards the door, "i'm seriously gonna move out at this rate."

"promise?" choso quips, without missing a bit, "wish you'd stop getting our hopes up and actually do it."

yuuji is undeterred, and he elbows you with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, "you have to invite gojo over all the time now. i like him a lot. he's like super cool."

"of course," you grin, sliding a plate towards him as he eagerly digs in.

and your younger brother beams like the sun itself. right as a mocking, high-pitched voice floats from the other room, "and then we're all gonna be lovesick, and skip around town while holding hands!" right before falling back into sukuna's usual gruff tone that echoes through the kitchen, "god, you're all so insufferable."

your phone buzzes on the table, and you glance down. gojo's contact photo lights up the screen. it's a snapshot from a year or two ago, taken the summer that you both graduated high school. he's standing at the edge of the beach, with the sun dipping low enough behind to catch his white hair. turning it into a halo of glowing light. it's a photo that you never had the heart to change.

satoru 🪐

good morning princess!! my one and only!!!! my sugar plum (too much? i can tone it down but you just can't put a lid on love) hope you dreamed of me 🙂‍↔️ so what are you doing today because i've got abt eight possible things we can cover today starting with [read more.]

"ugh, gross."

sukuna's disdainful drawl cuts through behind you, as an icy finger prods at your phone, trying to scroll up and snoop through your messages. you freeze and slam your phone down on the table. whirling around to come face to face with the world's most judgemental gargoyle sneers at you, "i think i'm gonna throw up."

"get a life, holy fuck."