#also I'm going on a pretty long trip so I might be stuck in this semi-hiatus state until like. next year

[serenanymph]

find the word tag

tagged by @space-writes over here, with the words gentle, subtle, ample, and substantial. gonna tag uhhh @halfbit, @faytelumos, @writingamongther0ses, @lyssa-ink and @reneesbooks with the words silence, section, shallow and shatter!

gentle

Iri drops the man back onto the ground, and Beatriz stares at the spike dissolving into the soil with a hiss, turning it black and gooey. There’s a layer of dust hovering above the ground, kicked up from all of the commotion, and she barely has the presence of mind to guide in a gentle breeze, clearing the area so they won’t launch into a coughing fit mid-battle. Any moment now, the Noxx will be coming, but all she can do is stare at the man. The man who had just used the same kind of magic Noxx possess.

subtle (surprisingly this came from the most recent paragraph, though written when I was half-asleep so it makes less sense than usual. does this count as a last line tag I have way too many of those in my drafts)

She plunks the sole chunk of lirstone they have left in the center. The light throws stretching, malformed shadows onto the surrounding walls, paints everyone’s faces in pale, washed-out grey that almost makes them look ghostly. The tunnel stretches before them, winding and dark and no different from every other tunnel they’d passed through. They’d been sticking to the larger ones, the ones that sloped upwards, in the hopes of finding another exit, but she can barely notice any change. She hopes it’s just because of how subtle the transition had been; not because they’ve been going in circles.

no ample, but I did find one instance of plenty

“He’s a kid,” Icarus says. “He’s the same age as us,” she retorts. “That’s plenty old enough to make a decision like this, especially when you’re half Beast. Hell, look at Crys – he’s had anti-Beast values drilled into him since he was a kid. Didn’t stop him from seeing you like an actual person and helping you,” Rhyme points out, though her expression is a little sour. “But the Witchhunter’s Mutt? You saw what went down just now. He hates your bloody guts.”

substantial

Around her, magic flares – Icarus – tugging at the wind, too panicked to actually do anything substantial save for generate a weak breeze, grip dulled by his scattered focus and the fact that he’s currently struggling not to start flipping head over heels.

taglist (lmk if you want to be +/-): @deer-in-headlights-stare, @allianaavelinjackson, @arctic-oceans, @space-writes, @reneesbooks

[literaila]

house rules (roommate au)

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary:

"satoru keeps an infinite amount of space between him and everyone else."

warnings: mentions of alcohol and drinking, slight angst, mentions of tampons (terrifying), suggestive comments, absurdly long, alternate universe characters

a/n: to all of my frequent readers--i have never claimed to be sane :)

*

in the broad spectrum of things, opening the door in nothing but your bathrobe and a ridiculously bright orange clay mask is not the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you. 

oh no, puking on your first ever date at seventeen definitely takes the cake. finding your seventh-grade friends bent over a table reading your diary--in which you wrote many explicit things about them, not to mention, yourself--might be even worse. riding your bike into the pond by your house in front of all of your--much older, much cooler--neighbors, even. picking up your coffee in your favorite cafe and spilling it, which was not only devastating but humiliating because you managed to spill your mocha on every other drink waiting there (effectively banning you from returning) still haunts your dreams. even walking down the street and trying to pretend like you didn't just trip over air in front of every single one of your peers still lingers in your mind, waiting for a moment of peace before it attacks.

you're used to the feeling of dread in your stomach and the nights spent thinking about all of these moments, like a scrapbook in your mind--just there to make your skin itch. 

but, it does get a little bit worse when you realize the man you've opened the door to is none other than a potential roommate; and when you remember that you forgot he was coming. 

or when you have to pull your robe tighter around your abdomen just to make sure that you don't give this man a show before you even shake his hand. 

"is this apartment 214?" he asks, looking right at you--and your legs, naturally--with a confused grin on his face, but grin nonetheless. 

so immediately you slam the door. 

you turn around, with wide eyes, face crackling from the movement, and check your phone frantically. yes, it is the 18th, and yes it is 11:32, which means he was supposed to be here over a half-an-hour ago. 

and also you've just slammed the door in his--satoru gojo, the only person who's even bothered to respond to your ad about an available room--face. 

oh, fuck. 

so you groan, refraining from knocking your head against the door just in case he can still hear, and open it again. a little bit less this time. 

"gojo?" you ask, voice rough and slightly irritated. 

"the one and only. i'm pretty sure this is the right apartment," he says, and you don't fail to notice his tone of voice as he continues, "but if it's not, then fate must've brought us together."

you narrow your eyes, hoping that he doesn't notice the specks of dust that ebb from your skin. "you're late." 

"and you're less than dressed." 

"i thought you stood me up." 

he snorts. "so you started an impromptu spa day? or was this supposed to be another perk of the apartment?" 

you glower, opening the door a bit more just so he can see the fury in your eyes. "i don't think someone who doesn't even text to cancel has any right to judge my self-care practices." 

"i didn't cancel. i'm here." 

"you're late." 

"so i've heard..." he drawls. 

you blink at him, and he blinks back--or at least, you're assuming. because he's wearing sunglasses even though it's cloudy outside. 

and he's aggressively taller than you. he might not even fit through the door. 

you don't look away, waiting for him to break. which he does because you're well-practiced in men of his standard. "so, are you going to let me in?" he asks. 

"are you going to apologize for being late?" 

"i'm sorry that i'm late," he says, immediately, with an air of fake sincerity. "i got stuck in traffic. i would've called, but my phone died." 

"really?" 

the smile reappears, as if from magic. "no, but did it make you want to let me in?" 

you glare even harder--which is tough, honestly--and begin to shut the door. until your plan is interrupted by a foot. "excuse you," you say, to this man, who you already hate. and his stupid chelsea boots.

"look, i'm sorry. i'm trying to ease the tension--because honestly i wasn't expecting to get an eyeful this early in the morning, and you seem uncomfortable--" 

you slam the door against his foot again. 

gojo doesn't even wince. "and also, you're, like, the only person with a room in the middle of october. and i... could really use a place to put my bed. so, can i look around, at least? i'll keep my eyes closed every time i'm facing your direction. i can even give you my rent money today if it works out."  

something in his voice already implies that it will. 

and, well. despite your very short robe and your very dry face mask, he is the only person who's even inquired about the room. and you desperately need a roommate; someone to clean up with, someone to make coffee for, someone to argue about toilet paper direction with, and, most importantly, someone who has money and can keep you from getting evicted from the only place you've lived since high school. 

so you sigh. think about moving back home and suffering at the will of your parents. 

it takes about three seconds to say, "will you wait out here while i get dressed?" 

an eyebrow peeks out from behind the sunglasses, as white as his hair. "how long?" 

"ten minutes. maybe twenty." 

"do you have a chair?" he asks and moves his foot from the door. 

and so you close it without answering and rush to your room to find something that's still clean. 

there's nothing that you'll actually wear, but satoru gojo doesn't deserve your fresh appearance anyway. he can have day-old wrinkled jeans and a t-shirt you got when you were twelve. 

as slow as humanly possible, you remove the face mask, trying to keep your hair out of the way, and think about putting on makeup--which you probably would have done, had you remembered he was even coming--but decide not to. 

in reality, it only takes about seven minutes for you to look mostly presentable and get rid of the mugs you left cluttered around the dining room table. 

but you wait an extra four, just to mess with him. 

and then, eleven minutes later, you open the door again to the man leaning against the wall, playing what looks like candy crush on his phone. 

you attempt a fake smile. 

"hey," he says, with that same grin, "you have clothes." 

you drop your face. "i will close this." 

he isn't phased, just pockets his phone and leans in to look behind you at the entryway. 

you roll your eyes, but open the door anyway, and usher him in. he rubs his feet against your welcome mat and toys with a keychain you have hanging from a coat rack, then looks to you, like he's waiting for a tour. which, you guess, he is.

"there's only two rooms, one bath. it's not very big, so if you need a lot of space..." 

"i can manage," he says, and follows you as you walk into the kitchen. "did you decorate?" 

"um... sort of." 

"sort of?" 

"i, uh, had a roommate before and he bought most of the decorations before i moved in. but i've added a few things. i'm not picky about aesthetics." 

gojo hums. "why'd he move out?" 

"we were together and he cheated on me," you say, flatly, as you have been for the past month and a half. "and then told me i couldn't use his netflix account anymore after i broke up with him." 

gojo merely blinks and gestures toward the wall behind you. "so you didn't buy that dancing frog thing?" 

you turn around, rolling your eyes. "no. i forgot that was there." 

"okay, good, 'cause that's hideous." 

you snort, but nod your head and walk down the hallway. gojo's footsteps follow you as you open the door to his potential bedroom. "it's the bigger of the two," you tell him, "but the bathroom is next to mine." 

"did you change rooms?" 

"what?" 

"when your ex moved out. why take the smaller one?" 

"oh," you rub a finger against the wall, rubbing dust off of it. "it was his room before we got together. and then we shared my current room. this was his man... den?" you try, shaking your head. "gaming room? slaughterhouse?" 

gojo snorts. 

"what?" 

"oh, nothing," he says, airy like he's teasing you. "just curious."

you step back so he can walk around, check the carpets for stains, or look for drywall you could've hidden a body behind. but he doesn't, only watches you as you furrow your brows. 

"you're not going to look around?" 

"it looks like the pictures." 

"yeah, but what if there are, like, bugs in the carpet? blood on the walls?" 

"are there bugs in the carpet?" he asks. "blood on the walls?" 

"not that i know of..." 

"great, then it's perfect," he says, and steps out of the room again, whistling as he goes. 

this time, you follow him, like he's the one giving the tour. 

he pauses at the door a couple of feet down. "this your room?" 

"yes." 

"can i see?" 

you scowl. "no. what do you mean 'it's perfect?'"

"i mean, i'd like to live here. it's nice. besides the frog." 

you lean against the wall, trying to inspect him for any mechanical parts. is this a ploy? some joke? "you've barely been here five minutes." 

"twenty with all the time i waited outside..." 

"you can't just take one look and say 'yup, this is good.'" 

"can't you?" he asks, challenging. 

"no." 

gojo's grin seems to widen, impossibly. "well, i'm not picky." 

and somehow you doubt that. 

but you don't get the chance to tell him that, or anything else, because he leans against the wall, still smiling at you, and asks, "so, are we roommates now?" 

"you haven't even seen the lease. or heard about the house rules." 

"house rules?" he repeats, dubiously. like you're making this up (which you are). 

"yes." 

"such as?" 

"no..." you pause, 'cause this is a fickle argument. something about his stupid smile makes you want to argue with him. or maybe it's the hair. or the sunglasses. "murdering anyone in the apartment." 

he laughs, unexpectedly, and sighs. "well, i guess i'll take my murdering someplace else." 

"and... you can't leave any utensils in the sink." 

"okay." 

"and i'm not cleaning up any beard shavings, or sharing my tampons with you, or any people you have over." 

"these are very extensive," he says, unserious. "anything else?" 

"i..." your brows furrow. "no hogging the bathroom. hot water is fickle. and you have to recycle." 

"it might be challenging, but we'll figure it out." 

"these are not negotiable." 

he only continues to smile at you. 

eventually, after staring back with a frown that feels slightly permanent for more than a minute, you sigh again. at least you won't have to worry about moving out. 

"fine. you still want to live here?" 

"mmhmm." 

"okay," and you stick your hand out for him to shake like this is a business transaction. 

and it seems that you'll be seeing a lot more of that grin in the future. 

*

living with satoru gojo is not... well, it's not hard. he's a normal enough roommate. 

he pays his rent on time and doesn't touch the coffee you make in the morning most days--coughing when he does. he man spreads on the couch and watches movies way too loud and doesn't hang his bag up at the door, preferring to, instead, set it on the counter like a maniac. he whistles when he walks, and wears his stupid sunglasses 80% of the time, and grins at you when you're irritated, and, honestly, he's not really half bad. 

he doesn't leave any huge messes for you to clean up (mostly because he doesn't use the kitchen or the dining table ever). he doesn't invite people over that keep you up all night (because he's gone most nights). and, actually, he keeps the bathroom quite clean (even if he takes up well more than half of the shower space with his weird face creams and deep conditioning treatments). 

but satoru gojo is hard. 

it's not what he does, but rather who he is. with his infuriating good looks--taking up most of the fair share for the rest of the population--and his subtle charm, which, if you didn't know who he was, might actually work on you, and his morning voice and his messy hair and just the way he lives. 

like breathing is just what he's supposed to be doing. like he doesn't need to worry about a thing because nothing should matter if he decides he doesn't want it to. 

so easygoing and naturally intuitive and far too exhausting for you. 

because, as a fatal flaw of your own, you love to mess with him. somedays you'll hope he shows up just so you have someone to fight with. just so you'll be irritated instead of stressed, frustrated instead of exhausted. 

it's kind of addicting, in a way. and masochistic, but you've never claimed to be completely sane. 

and honestly, gojo's just asking for it. 

after a mere month of living with his aura around, you come to expect his cockiness. you live to take him down a notch.

so when he's up this early in the morning, whistling like it's his god-given right, you scowl at him just as he enters the room. 

"woah," he says, sliding on a bar stool in front of you. "starting early this morning?" 

"you're banned from talking to me until noon." 

"is this about the ice cream i ate? cause there was only a little left..." 

"no it's--" you pause, frowning at him. "you ate my ice cream?" 

he lays his entire torso on the counter, pathetically. "i was dying, okay? low blood sugar was going to kill me, and i couldn't see anything else but that ice cream and it wasn't even very good anyway, so, really, i was saving you from having to endure the rest of it." 

"you ate my ice cream?" you repeat. 

"i'll buy you more. a better kind. and then you'll understand that i was doing you a favor." 

"i might kill you." 

"i thought we banned homicide from the apartment." 

"i was going to eat that," you whine, shoving his hands away from trying to grab your mug. 

he smiles, too bright for so early in the morning. "yesterday you told me sweets weren't an appropriate breakfast." 

you scoff. "yeah, cause that's all you eat. you need a green smoothie or something in the morning just to keep your heart beating for the rest of the day."

"my heart beats very well, thank you. wanna feel?" 

you roll your eyes and sigh into your mug. "i'll be expecting three pints of ice cream as an apology later tonight." 

gojo has already moved on, typing away on his phone, probably to some groupies he manipulated into loving him. "i can't. it's flip night at laurent's tonight, and suguru has already threatened me into coming." 

"why did you say laurent's like i'm supposed to know what you mean?" 

"laurent's," he repeats, looking at you.

you blink. 

"the bar?" he questions, like you're crazy. 

"okay, sorry, i don't exclusively hang out at bars filled with frat boys." 

"it's very sophisticated,” he corrects, his frat boy nature very obvious. “i mean, i frequent there." 

you laugh. 

"clearly you've never been." 

"i'm still expecting ice cream." 

he sits back in his chair. "i have class all day." 

"like you've never skipped a class." 

"encouraging ditching?" he asks, mock appalled. "what kind of roommate are you?" 

"the kind that doesn't steal her roommate's food. just get one of your servants to pick it up.”

gojo waves a hand at you, and that statement, apparently. and then he types another thing into his phone—to said servants you assume—and grins again. his face must’ve missed the feeling. "how about i buy you a drink instead? you can come with me tonight. meet my friends. maybe make some of your own." 

"haha," you cross your arms. "if they're as bad as you, then i'm good." 

"you'd probably love them. they also like to torment me, even though i'm pretty and perfectly nice to them." 

"i seriously doubt that." 

his eyes--oh, yes, this early in the morning he skips the sunglasses--sparkle like gems. "i have to play wingman for suguru, but it probably won't take long. you can mingle. meet someone. i think you could use a way to relieve some of that stress." 

"oh, you mean the stress that you cause?" 

gojo grins and you realize that you've fallen into his trap. "i'm willing to help out whenever you like," he says, deviously, "you just haven't asked yet, sweetheart." 

"nor ever will," you grind out.

gojo hums and taps his fingers against the countertop. the two of you stare at each other, grin matching scowl, and eventually, he loses the contest. "so, can i plan to steal you away from eternal solitude at six?" he asks.

and just because he's right--in his weird, satoru gojo way--you nod. it might be nice to get out of the house; and meet people other than the lost freshman at work. and because you know that gojo will continue to bother you about it otherwise. he’s a very difficult person.

as if proving it, he grins all pleased with himself, so you add, "but you're buying all of my drinks." before he can get too ahead of himself. 

*

it's not nearly loud enough in this bar. as soon as you walk in, you're sure of it. 

because even with a band up on the stage, singing about loving someone or money or drugs, you can still hear gojo as he flirts with every single living thing in his twenty-foot vicinity. 

he's got his grin on, styled his hair all fancy, and his clothes are signature in the way that you've probably seen him wear the same thing fifty times. maybe in a row. 

but the people in this bar don't care. no, they flirt back like they already know who satoru gojo is. and maybe they do. 

you don't really care, but you do have to drag him along so he can show you where you're supposed to sit and tell you the names of his friends before you get drunk enough to forget. 

it takes three minutes of trailing after gojo like a lost puppy to remember that you hate going out. that you hate everything about your so-called roommate and you should've shoved his invitation down the drain along with him. 

as if gojo can hear this thought, he peeks over his shoulder, smirking at you. "enjoying the view?" he asks, and you try to trip him by stepping on his heel. 

unfortunately, he only swings around, walking backward through the crowd like it's going to part for him. 

oh, wait. it does. 

you frown at him. 

"what? you don't like the music?" he pouts because that would personally offend him, of course. 

"where are we going? i think we've passed that table four times already." 

"i have to say hi," he says like this is obvious. "it's rude to just walk into some place without greeting everyone." 

"do you own this bar?" 

"what? no." 

"then find your friends so we can sit down," you grumble, trying not to lose him in the sea of people. it's unlikely that you've ever seen a bar this packed. more like a club, honestly, but you wouldn't put it past gojo to lie. 

eventually, he does lead you to a table, announcing, with a flourish. "don't worry, everyone, i'm here," while he bows--because of course he does. "and," he adds, "i brought a stowaway." 

you peek around his shoulder to meet three people, all staring at him with the same unamused expression. one, suguru--from the many photo albums and 'trips down memory lane' gojo has bombarded you with--gives you a little wave. the other two just continue to stare at gojo. 

"everyone, this is y/n, my favorite roommate. y/n, that one is suguru," he says, pointing towards him, "which you already know. the short one is shoko, and the blonde one is--" 

"nanami," you cut in, "hey." 

gojo frowns, looking between the two of you. "you know each other?" 

"we have analytics together," you answer, sliding in to sit across them, next to gojo, naturally. "i usually cheat off of his notes." 

"she gets me coffee," nanami adds, like this information is imperative. 

gojo grins again. "why didn't you say anything nanamin?" 

"because i didn't realize." 

"who else could i have been talking about? do you know several pretty girls named y/n? you a player?" 

nanami has a very familiar frown on his face, and is about to say something when suguru seems to kick gojo under the table. "satoru, i told you to stop referring to other people as 'players.'"

gojo merely rolls his eyes. "can't fight the truth," he says.

you almost smile. almost. but your eyes drift over to shoko, who sighs. "how'd you get stuck with this one?" she asks, not harsh, but not quite soft. 

"he promised me alcohol." 

she nods knowingly. 

speaking of, you turn towards him. "you and i both know there's only one reason i'm here." 

gojo flicks your forehead, but stands up. "i'll be right back," he says, "don't miss me too much." 

and you all watch as he walks away, conveniently stopping at least four times to talk to several different people. 

you groan. "he's not coming back is he?" 

"he will," suguru says, not quite reassuringly. "probably. in an hour or so." 

you cover your eyes with your hands and listen as the three of them laugh at you. 

*

it probably is an hour or two later that you see gojo again. 

you'd fallen into smooth conversation with his friends, talking about classes, and dancing, and the fact that you all shared a common enemy. it was easy enough, talking to them, like ripples in a pond. but surely if gojo had stuck around, it would've been more of a tsunami. you could see the appeal--at least for someone like your roommate. they all seemed responsible enough. 

but shoko, after a twenty-second lull in conversation, decided she was better off drinking at home, and nanami quickly agreed. watching them, compared to gojo, disappear into the crowd was a different experience. 

you bite your cheek unnervingly, wondering if it made you a bad roommate to want to let gojo suffer here alone and walk home by himself. 

suguru pats you on the shoulder when he stands up a moment later, brushing his pants. "i'll go find satoru," he says, softly. you feel that same irritation when you realize that gojo had probably lied to you about coming here for suguru. it was almost infinitely more times likely that suguru had come here for him. "do you want me to tell him you went home?" 

"how likely is it that he'll go home with someone else and it won't matter if i wait for him anyway?" 

the dark-haired man considers this with a sly grin on his face. "if i tell him you left, he'll find someone to cling to. but if you're here he'll go home with you. probably drunk, though." 

you run a hand through your hair, waving him off. "it's fine. i'll wait, then. but tell him that the homicide clause doesn't apply to outside the apartment." 

suguru laughs, not questioning this, and walks away. 

you sit there, toying with a glass someone had left behind, watching the people around you dance like it really was a club. with absolutely no one watching. not even god, evidently.

as usual, gojo lied--even though you hadn't really believed him when he said this place was sophisticated. the clear air of stale beer and vomit is enough to prove that.

you almost laugh bitterly, but then a mop of white hair appears in the chair next to you, and his grin is wider, larger than you'd remembered. 

how long had that taken? 

"hello hello, roomie," he sings, leaning close to you. he moves his chair, shuffling across the floor so that he's near enough to touch. "i heard you were threatening me again." 

"you could hear that over the sighs of your fan club?" 

gojo giggles, like he's in on the joke. his breath falls on your face. "i like it when you tell me you're going to murder me, you know." 

"of course you do. how much did you drink?" 

"it's not the quantity," he whispers, "it's the quality." 

"your friends told me you could get drunk off of hand sanitizer." 

gojo leans back, his long legs knocking against yours. "are they spreading those rumors again?"

you kick his foot away from yours but don't say anything. his eyes seem somehow wider right now, even behind his dark shades. almost like you could see them. 

you blink, and gojo does it back. his lashes fluttering just enough to tell.

it almost makes you smile. laugh a little bit at his innocence--especially right now, when he's clearly not himself--some more unperturbed version of who he normally is (if that's even possible). he probably wouldn't even remember if you did laugh at him. but you refrain anyway. 

gojo gasps suddenly. "oh! let's go to the store. you want ice cream, right?" his elbow slides onto the table as he rests his chin on a hand. 

you kick his foot again. "i wanted a drink," you correct, "but apparently you got distracted." 

"'s not my fault," he almost slurs, sadly. 

"are you ready to go home?" 

"i'm ready to leave. so we can get your ice cream. want to share a spoon?" his grin is unabashed. you could tell him that he is a vile, disgusting creature right now and he would probably agree. 

you don't, for whatever reason. 

"i don't think anywhere's open, and i don't want to drag you around while you're this drunk." 

he taps your thigh with a finger. "hey. i'll have you know that i am a very proficient walker." 

"oh, really?" 

"learned when i was a kid and everything." 

"wow, gojo, i'm very impressed," you deadpan, and look around. "do you need to say goodbye to suguru?" 

he frowns. then points to himself. "gojo," he repeats, and into the crowd, "suguru." 

like he's an actual toddler.

you shake your head and stand up, still looking. "can you text him?" 

"i guess," he mumbles, getting out his phone and almost dropping it. he frowns like this is deeply upsetting. 

so you grab it from him. "what's your passcode?" 

"one one one one." you look at him with a brow raised. "cause i'm number one," he answers, pridefully. 

you scoff, but look through his texts anyway, and tell suguru that you're taking him home--and never ever coming out with him again--and then hand it back to gojo. 

he smiles at you. you roll your eyes. 

then he grabs your hand, and begins to pull. "c'mon before they find us," he says, and it doesn't make any sense. 

but were you really expecting it to? 

*

perhaps the aftermath of drunk gojo is even more entertaining than the actual thing. 

shoko hadn't been kidding when she said he was the worst drunk--and even worse when hungover. 

how do you know this? oh, because you woke up at one in the afternoon--perfectly respectable for a saturday--and as soon as you dared to even open your door gojo was already groaning about the noise. so you slam it a little as you leave. 

there's a grunt, like a dying cat, and two minutes later he is walking into the kitchen with slits for eyes and cotton for hair. you're not sure what he's wearing--some video game shirt--but it's wrinkled enough to match your roommate's appearance. disheveled and slightly peeved, he's almost glaring at you--like he's capable of such a thing.

you try not to laugh. 

"where's the bacon?" he asks, almost slipping off of the counter as he leans on it. his hands rubbing at his eyes. 

"sorry?" 

"wheres the bacon?" he repeats, his voice a different register this morning. "i need emergency bacon." 

"so make some. there's a pan and probably a package in the fridge." 

he whines, falling against the counter again. his natural habitat. "i can't make it, i'm dying. you really want your terminally ill roommate to cook for himself?" 

"i want my overdramatic roommate to act like an adult for a change." 

he blows a raspberry, and his face is hidden beneath the tile of your table. you can only see his hair, which looks surprisingly soft for his state. 

"did you lose some pigment in your hair?" 

gojo snaps up, immediately, gasping. he pulls a strand so he can look at it, blinking rapidly. his panic quickly fades, and he blows the strand out of his eyes. "it's just dirty." 

"from what?" 

"i forgot to buy new bedsheets," he grumbles, once again hiding his face. 

"your bedsheets are dying your hair?" you ask, with a raised brow. 

"they're dirty," he repeats, rolling his eyes as he sits up. "i need to go to the store." 

"um..." you look at him as he slumps against his own body, feeling greatly concerned for his survival abilities. "you buy new bedsheets?" you confirm, "instead of washing them?" 

he waves a hand, blowing you, and your clearly audaious sentence away. "bacon," he says, flatly. 

you roll your eyes. "pan," you point, "stove." 

gojo looks like he might start crying.

and it might be his state or the fact that you don't think you've ever seen him like this--in the month you've known him--all lost and confused and a little bit ruffled at the edges. gojo's snark is usually in its top form when you see him in the morning. 

so, just this once, you grab a pan, and turn on the burner. 

"i'll be expecting payment for my time," you say, as you grab the bacon from the fridge. 

and maybe you get your first real smile from your roommate. 

*

you're lying on the couch reading a book when he appears, swarming like a fly. 

"hello, roommate," he says, uncharacteristically pleasant, and then he sits on your legs. you try to kick him, but it proves futile because apparently he's a giant, so you wiggle your way out from under him and sit up, frowning. 

"don't you have a room?" you ask. 

"i could ask you the same thing," gojo tries to tickle your feet, but you move them away before he can. your frown turns into more of a glare. "what?" he asks, "we can't hang out?" 

"no." 

gojo pouts. "but we're roommates," he says as if it's an explanation. like being roommates binds your souls and forever intertwines the two of you. 

"we are roommates because i had an extra room and you had money. that doesn't seem like thrilling grounds for friendship." 

"well, how about the fact that i let you use my hair dryer the other day?" he lays down on the other side of the couch, smirking at you. "that's a friendly thing to do." 

"that's the polite thing to do. i'm trying to train you. speaking of which..." you point towards the floor, "down boy." 

he takes off his sunglasses, throwing them on the coffee table--which probably explains the broken mug pieces you found in the trash the other day--and lays back with his arms behind his head. his eyes are closed. "i can't be trained." 

"clearly." 

you sigh and relax in your corner of the couch, picking up your book again. his presence lurks like a nightmare, but, you figure, eventually, he'll get bored. 

you just can't entertain him. it's like the advice you'd give to a kid being bullied: they only care about your reaction... 

as if proving your point, after twenty-seven seconds of silence, he opens one eye, peeking at you. "whatcha reading?" 

"a book." 

he plucks it right out of your hands, inspecting the cover. how he got across the couch in 0.2 seconds, you don't know. 

"what is this?" he asks, snickering a little. "word porn?" 

you take it back. "it's called romance, gojo. not that i'd expect you to be familiar with anything of the sort." 

he smirks, laying back down. "i have references if you need proof." 

you shake your head, flipping him off, and continue to scan the words on your page without retaining any information. 

seriously, his presence is impending doom itself. 

"it's okay," he whispers, "you don't need to be embarrassed. everyone craves intimacy." 

"i crave my fist on your face." 

he snorts. "that's not very friendly." 

you sigh, dropping the book again so you can look at him and his obnoxious eyes. "look, i'm tired, it's been a long week, and if you don't leave me alone i'll probably lock you outside." 

"probably?" 

"it's that or throwing you out the window." 

gojo laughs once again, but mimes zipping his mouth shut. you roll your eyes and open your book again. your feet are entwined, but you don't mock this--if only because you're sure that gojo will start an argument about it.

the quiet lasts for two minutes and then he turns on the tv. 

you groan and he laughs at you.

*

you're getting used to having him around, at least. and in turn, his friends. because they seem to be a package deal. 

after that night at the bar, gojo--apparently--feels much more comfortable having them over. trying to bake cookies with shoko or interrupting what's supposed to be a study session between the four of them. 

at least, you think, watching this happen, that you're not the only person forced to endure him. 

but it's kind of... nice to see him act like a normal person, for once. to get teased by someone other than you and pout like a begrudged younger brother. the person who invites his friends over for game night (getting aggressively angry every time he loses) isn't satoru gojo, the man whom everyone is drawn to. he isn't some drunk guy charming everyone around him or a roommate that you just happened upon. 

he's just another college student, laughing along with people who aren't nearly as bad as him. 

and, naturally, you find yourself intertwined with these 'hang-outs' because the apartment is small, and you don't want to be left out--no, you choose not to think about how pathetic it is that satoru gojo has more friends than you do, so please don't bring it up. 

and it's on this night when you're not playing uno with the four of them, but rather, watching behind all of their backs and trying to mess with gojo as much as possible. 

you pretend to be idly cleaning in the kitchen, when really you're standing behind him, mouthing to suguru what color he has whenever he's about to win. 

"hmm," the sly-mouthed man says this time, "green." 

shoko puts down a seven, and gojo groans again. "seriously?" he asks, but begins drawing cards. 

you try--and fail--not to giggle behind him. to which, of course, he turns around with an obvious glare in his eyes. "what are you doing?" 

the sink isn't on, and there are no dishes to be seen in the kitchen. nonetheless, you point uselessly to the roll of paper towels on the counter. "cleaning." 

"you're cleaning air?" 

"sorry, i didn't realize i was banned from loitering in my own home." 

he turns back around, looking at suguru for a moment, then back at you. it's very hard to keep the smile off of your face, especially when nanami looks like he's about to break and shoko is pretending to rifle through her cards again. 

how many times have you done this to him? oh, just a mere eight. 

to be fair, it would've ended a long time ago if gojo wasn't such a sore loser. 

he looks back and forth once more. then he frowns. "what are you doing?" 

"do you want me to go hide in my room, gojo?" you ask, trying to scowl. "because i will. i was just trying to be hospitable--" 

"nanamin," he interrupts. "go." 

so another round of cards is placed, and this time suguru plays normally, keeping his face straight to not draw any suspicion. you lean against the wall, enjoying yourself. 

(don't tell anyone, but this is the most fun you've had in a while). 

and then, after a couple of rounds go by, you finally clear your throat. gojo turns to glare at you through his sunglasses and says "go stand behind suguru if you're going to watch. i don't trust you." 

you raise your brows but do as he says. 

and when shoko has to draw the next time, you smile and tap a couple of times on your thigh. 

suguru does his best impression of gojo's grin, and says, "draw four," to shoko. 

she smiles back. turns to gojo. "draw four," she repeats. 

and he stares at the two of them, then the cards stacked on top of each other, and then to you, right across him. "what are you doing? i know you're doing something." 

"satoru, she's just watching--" 

"no, she's smiling." he looks back to you, "you're smiling. you don't do that unless i'm in pain." 

"so you just assume that you're losing cause i'm... what? drawing your cards for you? shuffling the stack so only you get the bad hands?" you cock a brow at him, willing yourself not to look at anyone else at the table. it would only end in disaster. 

"i--" gojo runs a hand through his hair. then he sighs and begins drawing his eight cards. 

and several rounds later--with gojo losing once again--you've begun moving around the table like you're inspecting each player. gojo doesn't let you look at his cards though. 

and it takes a while before he notices anything. particularly after suguru wins for the third time in a row. 

he looks at everyone--brows pulled together, irritated eyes hiding behind his sunglasses, and his cheeks are flushed from how frustrated he is--and as soon as you start laughing at his face, everyone else does too. suguru throws his cards down and shakes his head. nanami shuffles the deck while trying to keep his laugh muffled--but it's there. and shoko is outwardly laughing at him, pointing at gojo and then at you. 

"are you guys stealing the cards?" he asks, almost disbelieving, his voice so childlike that you start laughing even harder. "look at the deck! it's half the size that it was." 

and then he's standing up and inspecting you, sticking his hands up your sleeves and finding dozens of cards hiding there, falling onto the floor. 

gojo gasps in outrage, but it doesn't even matter to you. 

everyone else is clutching their stomachs and gojo begins to pout. "you're all traitors," he's saying, and "how long have you been doing that?" and you almost can't breathe-- 

so yeah. you don't really mind these kinds of nights. and you don't complain about the messes gojo and his friends leave behind. 

*

you shouldn't have given suguru your number. this much is obvious. 

but, to be fair, you weren't exactly thinking when you were talking to him about a self-help book you'd picked up, and he was mentioning a podcast, and then he was taking your phone and putting himself in it--which, in itself, should not be dangerous--telling you that he'd send you a link and that you should let him know if you liked it, and that was that. 

and really, there shouldn't be any repercussions to this. suguru is your sort of friend, and sort of friends can text on occasion. 

except for the fact that he's also satoru gojo's friend. so when you wake up at ten--silently thanking yourself for taking a day off before a week of back-to-back classes and work--he's already texted you, and it's obvious that you failed somewhere in life. 

maybe when you accidentally invited a demon into your house and allowed him to stay. 

from suguru :p : 

hey satoru is supposed to be in class right now and he won't answer me 

can you please kick him awake? 

but maybe it wasn't a mistake. because at least you have a good excuse to give gojo a bruise. 

so you creep down the hall, reluctantly knocking on his door even though it ruins the element of surprise (you're not a monster) and listening as there's no response. 

gojo must be asleep. or dead. honestly, you might've killed him in your sleep--wouldn't be the first time. 

so you peek the door open, realizing now that you haven't been in his room since he moved in, and watch as a figure slithers under the covers almost before you notice. gojo is completely covered except for the foot he's left hanging off of the side of the bed. 

"get up," you tell him, looking around at the sparse decorations he's put up. there are books, candy wrappers, and socks all over the floor, but it's not the messiest room you've ever seen. which is slightly surprising, considering all that you know about gojo. 

he whines from under the cover, turning so you get a view of exposed skin on his back. "sleeping," he says as if you might believe him. 

so you creep over trash and textbooks and pull the blanket right off of him. 

gojo is already looking at you, pouting. his hair is in his eyes and his mouth is puffy--probably from kissing his pillow in his sleep. "what if i was naked under here?" he asks you, very seriously. "i don't let just anyone see that, you know?" 

"you're wearing the same silk pajamas you wear every night." 

he tries to pull the blanket away from you, his fingers peeling yours away. he huffs. "it's the principle. you don't just wake a man up from slumber." 

you snort. "did you travel a century in your sleep?" 

"yes, now go away." and then he falls back into the blankets, his words muffled. 

"you have class, your highness. i've been sent to fetch you." 

one eye appears from under the blanket. "how do you know my schedule?" 

"telepathy. now get up." 

"i can't," gojo fake coughs. "i'm sick." 

"suguru said you'd say that." 

he groans, turning over and muffling a few explicit words that sound like a curse upon his best friend. 

you poke his back. "did you sleep through your alarm?" 

he doesn't answer. his body has gone limp like you might not notice that he's there if he stays still for long enough. so you pull his hair, turning his head towards you. "you're not usually this whiny in the morning," you tell him. 

"why are you so mean to me?" 

you hum, pretending to consider it. "i think it's the hair. i find it pretentious." 

"i could sue you. discrimination is very serious. i've got a good lawyer, too."

"i'll sue back for mental damages." 

he laughs, and wiggles from your grasp. 

you sigh and finally sit down at the edge of his bed, observing the lollipops he's left lying on his bedside table. gojo's bones seem to crack as he sits up with you, moaning the whole way. 

you're silently observing him--with his slightly red eyes and heinous mouth. you're not used to seeing him like this in the morning; usually, he's chipper and annoying. when he walks into the kitchen in the morning you half expect him to start singing. 

but this gojo is tired. he rubs at his eyes. "did suguru text you?" 

"yup." 

"he's a terrible friend." 

you nudge him, almost like an agreement. "why aren't you in class?" 

"what's even the point of going? it's not like i get a reward."

"i think the reward is graduating, but you might have to fact-check that one." 

he nudges you back and then takes your hand. his fingertips are soft as they trace the tendons and veins he can see on your skin. his hands are softer than you'd have expected. his eyes are wary as they look towards the floor, his mouth twisting in displeasure. but he doesn't stop touching you, he does so idly that you almost don't notice. "i have an a in the class," he tells you, "and i already know most of the material so why would i go to every lecture?" 

maybe it's the way he says it; so sure and nonchalant, in his typical over-dramatic fashion. maybe it's just that he's never mentioned any of his classes to you, or the fact that he's taking any. maybe he's just crazy--that's the most likely option--but you're suddenly curious. 

"what class is it?" 

"theoretical physics." 

you whistle, shaking your head. "and you already know most of it?" 

gojo drops your hand and looks at you. his eyes are wide. maybe he's just realized that he's been talking to you this whole time. "when i was a kid my, uh, my dad had a bunch of textbooks in his office that i used to read through every time i got in trouble," he grins, "which was a lot." 

"i can imagine." 

"well, it turns out you can only read something so many times before it becomes ingrained in your brain." 

you pull at his bedsheet. "do you have a test today, or something?" 

"no, suguru just thinks i'm lazy." 

you laugh, because he is. gojo rolls his eyes at you so you don't say it. you're a little bit surprised, actually. you knew that gojo wasn't stupid (or at least, you might've known) but there's something about the proof of it. like you can't just read right through him. like maybe there's still more to learn about your roommate and maybe there always has been. 

or maybe you're just tired, and he's always had the strange ability to draw irrationality out of you. and also he's an idiot.

"i just..." he starts and his smile fades, but only a little bit. he keeps a layer on while he peels a layer off. "i mean, i like the class. math is cool. but i just don't feel like it today, you know?" 

and there's something about his voice as he says it. steady and true, as always, but softer. but compeltely honest. 

and you've heard him complain about a million things, like every time you and suguru talk about something he doesn't understand or when the door isn't unlocked when he gets home, or when you won't add his one shirt to your laundry. you've heard every whine and every groan come from his lips. 

but he's not complaining about this. just confiding. 

and there's such a drastic difference that it takes you a moment to respond. 

but you do eventually. "yeah, i know," you tell him and rest a hand on his thigh to squeeze. 

and the way that gojo looks at you after--like you might just be saying it to make him feel better--is perplexing. his eyes are blue and maybe you've just noticed this--just started to realize that you're actually sitting with him like a normal person. and that he actually looks grateful. 

you shake your head, willing yourself to look away, because maybe there is something sort of magnetic about your roommate. and it feels impossible to only have noticed this now. to realize how warm he is next to you, and how your muscles tense up when he shifts. gojo is looking at you, and it might be the first time.

so you stand up, flicking his chin. "i'll tell suguru that you're puking your guts up." 

"really?" 

"yup. but next time you sleep through a class i'm going to wake you up by pouring ice water on your face." 

he grins. "cruel." 

"and i'll record it." 

you step over candy wrappers and dirty socks as you leave his room, and as soon as the door is closed you sigh in relief. you're probably better off never opening that door again.

*

it's a ridiculously cold night when he shows up. 

you're sitting at the front desk in the library, pretending to study for a mid-term, and trying to smile at the fifth lost library card you've heard about tonight. you got this job at the beginning of the year, and it pays horribly. but at least you can sit around and study, most weekends it's quiet enough to take a nap, and no one tends to bother you when you're drooling all over the reception desk. 

most weekends, that is, because as soon as he walks in through the door--letting in air so brisk that it has the potential to kill you--it gets significantly louder. 

because satoru gojo is not affected by trivial things such as snow, or blizzards, or the fact that the library is supposed to close in less than ten minutes... 

still, you don't really notice him--a rare circumstance that you will question later that night--until he's right next to you, breathing in your ear. 

"slacking on the clock?" he asks, and just for a moment, you almost disembowel him with the pen you're holding in your hand. 

but then you grunt, used to this sort of intrusion from your roommate, and push his head away. "how did you find me?" you ask him, because, honestly, this job is just an escape from his neverending antics at your house (no, it doesn't matter that you got the job before you knew that such an annoying person could possibly exist). 

"i microchipped you in your sleep," gojo says, smoothly, sitting in the chair right next to yours, swiveling around. "i thought i told you about that?" 

you blatantly look at the clock and ignore him. "you know that the library closes in seven minutes?" 

"...and?" 

"so go torment someone else," you answer, standing up with a stack of fileable papers, "i'm busy until eight." 

"i'll help," gojo says, eager as always, and takes half of your stack. "where to?" 

it is from two months of experience that you know he will not leave you alone. even if you chew off his fingernails and keep them to make into necklaces, gojo will follow you around as long as you make it clear you don't want him to. 

so you walk towards the copying room, smiling at all of the sleep-deprived students you pass by and rolling your eyes when gojo does the same. 

"how did you even find the library?" 

gojo walks like he has absolutely no equilibrium; knocking into you every couple of steps, and then falling in the other direction. it must be a consequence of all of his strenuous leaning. 

so he bumps into you as he replies, "tracker," like it's obvious. 

you snort. "no, seriously. i didn't think you knew that libraries existed. aren't you allergic to reading?" 

"hey!" he tries to trip you. "i'll have you know that i am very studious. top of my class." 

"that's why you pay suguru to write your papers for you, right?" 

gojo makes a small noise in the back of his throat. "he doesn't write them," he grumbles. "well, not all of them." 

you snort and open a door for him to follow through.

"my study group meets here on wednesdays," gojo answers, finally. 

"you're a part of a study group?" 

"where do you think i go all of the time?" 

you briefly consider this, setting the papers down. "cemeteries to mourn all of the people you've annoyed to death, probably. or your girlfriend's house." you shrug.

gojo sets his stack on top of yours, diligently lining them up. "i don't do that every night," he drawls, rolling his eyes. and then he winks at you. "and i don't have a girlfriend. thanks for asking." 

you mess up his stack and turn away from him. "sorry, i meant girlfriends as in plural. girlfriends." 

"nope, again." 

gojo follows closely behind you as you begin to lock up all of the spare rooms, turning off lights and looking for any lost items. "commitment issues?" you ask, fake sympathy clouding your voice. 

"sweetheart, if you want me, then just say that. you don't need to pretend to worry about anyone else." his cockiness is infuriating, but you don't even bother to scold him for it. you turn towards him with sharp eyes.

"do i seem worried to you?" 

"no, but you're a bad actor," gojo hums, fingertips grazing along your skin as he inspects your face. "denial is serious. you might want to see a doctor." 

"you would know," you answer, glaring and pulling away from him. the two of you walk as people begin to trek out of the library, no longer held captive by the idea of studying. 

gojo is much too close, as usual, his sweater brushing against yours. 

"how'd you even know i was here?" you ask him, after a minute of silence. 

"please," he answers, grinning down at you. "i got a PI as soon as you gave me my key." 

you squint. "did you actually?" 

he laughs. "no. you told shoko, and shoko told me..." 

you nod, clearing the desk of your things, tossing your bag at gojo for him to carry. "so why are you here?" 

he clears his throat, unplugging the cord to your computer and wrapping it around his hand. "i was walking by, and i thought i'd see if you wanted to come with me for drinks after your shift."

"drinks?" you repeat, taking the cord from his hands. 

"flip night." 

you groan. "i am never participating in that again after what happened last time." 

"it wasn't that bad." 

"i had to drag you home and you almost threw up in my hair." 

gojo smiles. "consider yourself lucky." 

you push him out of the way and put your coat on. then you turn off the lights and push in all of the chairs, gojo not helping at all. "i didn't even get my drink," you remind him. 

"okay, so let me make it up to you."

and his voice is a bit different. still arrogant, naturally, still smiling and easy--but maybe he means it? maybe beneath his, frankly, soft exterior, he feels bad for getting drunk before you could? maybe he's not actually a complete monster? 

you laugh that thought away as soon as it comes.

you sigh. "are your friends going to be there?" 

"yes, our friends are. they suggested i invite you." 

you sigh--again, because the air is quite thin when gojo is around--and consider it. for just four seconds. but eventually, you shake your head. "i can't," you tell him, looping your arm around his so you can drag him out of the building. 

"why not?" 

"i'm tired, and i still need to study for a test on monday..." 

"do it in the morning." 

you give him a blank look. "i won't want to study if i'm hungover." 

"then don't study." 

you let go of his arm, shivering from the cold. gojo, of course, is not wearing a jacket, or even a little bit bothered by the air. "you're a terrible influence." 

he grins. "i get it from you." 

you shake your head, keeping the smile off of your face. "maybe some other time? when it's not freezing, and i don't have a big test?" 

gojo looks like he wants to argue with you some more--which he usually does--but eventually, his grin ebbs into something simple and he nods. "okay, but you have to come next time i ask." 

"no. what if i'm sick, or something?" you definitely would not put it past him to ask you as a method of torture. 

"that's what alcohol is for." he sticks out his hand, too big and too sly. 

but you relent, shaking with him, and rolling your eyes.

"okay, gojo. have fun. do not wake me up when you get home." 

and you turn to walk away, but his hand catches your wrist. "what are you doing?" he asks, brow furrowed. 

"...going home?" 

he lets go of you and flicks your forehead. "you're not walking back by yourself," he says, like it's a crime. "c'mon." 

and he falls into pace with you, even with his longer legs and fervent energy. 

"this is stupid--" you start to complain, but gojo reaches for the strap of your bag, sliding it off of your shoulder. he then slings it on his own, and pulls you in a bit closer by the hem of your jacket. 

he doesn't say anything, just shoves your hand in his pocket, and whistles as he walks you home. 

*

its a couple of weeks later when you're standing at the door again, trying not to open it more than necessary. 

but, really, how wide is too wide? will a half-opened door signal any longing? will he think that you want him back if you open it more than three inches to pass him his box of stuff that he'd left behind and take your key back? 

how do you navigate the trade-off of a frog statue that will probably haunt your dreams till the end of time? 

"key," you say, without any pleasantries, not bothering to even really look at him. 

even though he looks just the same, your ex. still the lying cheater you'd almost fallen in love with. 

is it wrong to miss his netflix password more than him? 

"thanks," he says, and you've probably been standing there with him for thirty seconds when a head appears on your shoulder. 

white hair gets in your eyes, and you try to push gojo away, but he's already intruded on this exchange and you know he's not going to leave. 

"go away," you tell him, not very softly. 

"hello," gojo holds his hand out over your shoulder, because, again, he is ridiculously tall. "i'm--" 

"key," you say again, swatting his hand away. 

your ex looks at your new roommate--with all of his charm and irritating sunglasses and perfectly shaped teeth--with obvious disdain. you want to push both of them out the door and live here by yourself forever, but unfortunately, living prices disagree. 

so you grab the key from his hand, give him a bland smile, and slam the door with gojo's fingers still in between. 

he pulls them back just in time, still almost on top of you, and smiles when you turn around with a scowl. "a friend of yours?" he asks, slyly. he's about as subtle as a third-grader.

"no." 

he messes with your hair idly, pretending to fix it. "i noticed an obvious absence where our dancing frog used to be." 

"i told you, that's not mine." 

"so you gave it away?" 

you cross your arms. he is far too close to you. "you told me it was hideous." 

"it was," he nods, vehemently, and you know his eyes are grinning at you behind those dark shades. "but now there's an empty spot on that shelf." 

"we can put your tongue there when i cut it out," you give him an innocent smile and walk past him to sit on the couch. your pocket burns with the key you put there, metal like an obvious stain on your skin. 

it's not that you care about him anymore, really. you don't, not even when you lay alone at night and think about him. it's more that... he doesn't think about you. he didn't, and he wouldn't have, even if you were still together. 

is it wrong to be wanted by someone whose opinion is worth about as much to you as a penny you could or could not pick up on the street? should you crave being cared about by someone as awful as him?

you want to throw his key in bleach. maybe take a dip yourself.

gojo follows you, throwing himself down on the couch, and brushing you as he does so. he is very used to this kind of proximity, and the annoyed look you give him. "so that was your ex?" 

"yes." 

there's a brief pause, and a nice person might leave it like that. might try to console you, tell you better off. but satoru gojo is not nice, and he probably never has been. "really?" he asks. then clicks his tongue. 

you interrupt whatever obnoxious statement is supposed to follow: "if you're about to say that there are a lot of more eligible bachelors, including yourself, then i'm going to say that you should probably make a zillow account." 

gojo pinches your thigh. "i would never say something like that." 

you look at him, just barely able to make out the shape of his eyes when he's this close. "you told me that last week when i was complaining about dating apps." 

"well, it was true then." 

you roll your eyes. 

"i wasn't going to say that anyway." 

you hum, relaxing into the hold his legs begin to have on yours. despite his abrupt and terrible personality, gojo is very warm. and he's already intruded into so much of your space--your home, your head--that it almost feels normal. 

with his thighs pushing against yours and his fingertips trailing up the back of your neck. 

you should slap him away, but you don't. 

the last person you cuddled with was the same man who gave you the greasy key in your pocket. 

you look at gojo with inquisitive eyes. "really? no bad pickup line? you were going to say something meaningful?" 

"would've blown your mind, but you interrupted..." he teases, and pulls on a strand of baby hair. 

"whatever will i do now?" 

his hand falls from your neck, and if you weren't as comfortable as you are currently, you might think about what he's doing. 

like the fact that you haven't even questioned this, or his following you around, or the fact that he knew you needed someone to pull you away from that door. 

you don't think about that, but maybe you should. 

still, his hand wraps around your shoulder, and you slump against him without question. 

"i was..." his voice is softer, calmer than you've maybe ever heard it. it should jolt you away from him. it should do anything but keep you planted on the couch right next to him. "i was just going to say that i'm glad he's an idiot." 

"getting turned on by my pain?" 

he laughs. "no, but, i mean, your pain my gain." 

you don't even notice it when he slips off his glasses, his fingers curling around your forearm. 

"where else would i find a roommate that threatens me with bodily harm?" he asks, right in your ear. 

it's true enough, you guess. and at least for a moment, you don't want to rip off his arms. 

and gojo mutters something that sounds like "stupid," but you aren't listening.

*

gojo has called in your agreement; that is the only reason you're sitting at the bar, watching him dance around with shoko--purposefully stepping on her toes--and sipping on some drink he ordered for you.

it's terribly sweet and reminds you of lotion but you drink it anyway. it's not like you bought it, and you're sure that gojo wont buy you anything else until finish it. plus it's giving you a light buzz, just enough to feel comfortable sitting there, and not like you want to run away.

it's not as busy as it was last time, the music slightly quieter, the air in the room less stiff. gojo seems less energized tonight--considering that he hasn't abandoned any of you to talk to the houseplant in the corner--even with the dancing. 

which he is terrible at. it's like watching an eight-month-old learn how to stand. or a man trying to impress absolutely no one. his limbs move like they aren't even attached to his body.

"is he drunk?" you're asking suguru and nanami--who have been sitting there longer than you have. "i didn't see him order anything." 

nanami laughs and suguru ruffles your hair. "that's satoru completely sober." 

"...are you sure?" 

"yeah, he doesn't usually drink. even that," he nods to your drink which you're sipping with a wince, "is too bitter for him." 

you raise a brow, watching shoko frown at him, and then nudge him away. "he drank last time i came, though?" 

suguru nods, looking away like he knows something you don't and nanami snorts.

"what?" 

"he was nervous last time," nanami answers. he's got less than a smile on, but it's better than the frowns you've observed sitting next to him in class. 

your brow furrows. "about what?" 

suguru is about to answer, nudging nanami not very subtly, when the very topic of conversation pops up, bumping into you as he squeezes himself in between you and suguru. his presence is an interruption in itself, but he's smiling like he always does, acting like he's been there the whole time. 

you might've pushed him away a week or two ago. now you just sigh and move a little so he can fit.

"did you miss me, sweetheart?" he asks you, leaning against suguru. "don't worry, i'll dance with you next."

"no, and i don't dance." 

gojo rolls his eyes. "everyone dances." 

you look pointedly between him and the group of people dancing in the middle of the room. an image of him almost tripping over shoko makes you smile. "well some people shouldn't." 

suguru laughs and gojo grins even wider at you--his hair is slightly sweaty and his eyes are peering at you over the glasses sitting on the edge of his nose. "let's test that theory," he says, taking a step back. his tone is nothing less than suggestive. and his fingers wiggle towards you, beckoning for you to follow.

there's a twinge in your stomach and you adjust in your seat, frowning at him. "i told you that i don't dance." 

"well, i do. and you owe me for last time." 

you balk. "owe you for what? making sure you didn't get murdered on the street?" 

gojo pouts, his face so unserious and completely genuine at the same time. "you made me dance all alone. you didn't even come watch." 

"you left me--" 

"just one dance?" he asks, leaning in towards you. his eyes are sparkling. "i'll get you another drink." 

"you'll get me that anyway." 

"i'll let you pick it this time." 

"that's usually expected, you know?" 

he ignores that, "c'mon," he pleads, "you know that you want to." 

"i don't know that, actually." 

and then someone coughs behind gojo and you realize that your friends have been listening to this entire interaction and that you'd completely forgotten they were there. how long has he been standing like that? just two inches away from your face? 

"just go, y/n," shoko says, "put the rest of us out of our misery. i've been listening to him whine all night." 

"hey--" gojo turns, his voice defensive. 

but you take another sip of your drink, sighing as you stand up. "fine," you tell him, rolling your eyes when he turns to you with a smile. "one dance, and you can't ask me for anything else tonight." 

his teeth are like rows of knives. sharp and inviting. "okay." 

he holds his hand out for you again, and you take it, feeling that strange pull in the pit of your stomach. 

it's probably just the alcohol, though. 

*

you don't know how long you've been dancing with gojo. 

it started with one dance where he didn't do anything except twirl you around and sway with you, like he'd accepted the fact that you weren't exactly light on your feet, singing along to the music in your ear, making snide remarks about where you'd placed your hands. moving them like pieces on a chess board.

his breath was hot on your ear. condensation on a glass. 

and then you'd gradually moved to letting him lead you, after who knows how many songs, following his steps and not apologizing when your foot slammed against his, or when you bumped shoulders with him, probably creating marks on your skin. 

and then his hands were on your hips, his chin resting against your shoulder, and it felt almost nice to be dancing with him. almost relaxing to forget momentarily about where you were and who you were with. it shouldn't surprise you that you're comfortable with him, but it does. there's no worry about the way you're looking at him or if anyone is watching the two of you--but then again, you might be slightly drunk. 

gojo hasn't commented on how long the two of you have been dancing, and evidently, you've let the alcohol sway you into staying for more than just another song. 

so now, with his lips on your ear, you're almost smiling into him. your heart is fast, and the adrenaline rush you're experiencing is a pleasant thing; if someone ripped out your heart right you wouldn't even notice.

"see?" gojo says, his voice just a murmur with all of the music swimming in your ears. "you're not so bad." 

it sounds like something else to you.

"you won't be saying that in the morning," you tell him, stepping on his toes, but he doesn't pull back or move too quickly. if you thought rationally about his movements you might notice that everything he's doing is slow; like you're an animal he's trying not to scare. 

"i'm used to it," he pulls back a little bit. "shoko does that too." 

"'cause you deserve it." 

he laughs and leans in, so you follow him. 

are you just swaying now? or is he leading you in something more complex? a dance you've never heard of, or a simple in and out? 

you don't know, and you really don't care. 

after a moment, you sigh. "i've never danced with anyone before," you whisper to him, almost like not saying the words at all. it might be a lie, you're not quite sure. 

your words are just thoughts now with no sort of intervention between your brain and your mouth. intoxication fills your lungs. 

"really?" 

"mhm," you hum, "no one's ever asked me." 

"i don't believe you," his voice might be teasing, or serious, or he might be barking at you.

you laugh anyway. gojo's hands are firm against your skin. he feels kind of hazy, like a dream. so you laugh again. 

"you okay?" 

"i think i might be a little drunk." 

he snorts, his breath short. "really? i didn't think you'd be a lightweight." 

"you're a lightweight." 

"yeah, but you already knew that. i only drink when we come here, anyway. nanami doesn't like having to drag me home." 

"you're heavy," you agree, looking up at him. you can see his eyelashes from under his glasses. you can see his tongue as he moves it, and the tip of his nose. you can almost feel it when he swallows.

"sorry," he teases. his face looks different under these lights. it looks different when you're looking at him this close. 

"you're kinda pretty," the words fall from your mouth as you think them, and you grin. "huh." 

it shouldn't be an odd realization, but it is. his skin is almost translucent, and his mouth is sinful. his eyes are wide and bright and satoru gojo could be a sculpture if he wasn't a man.

gojo looks down at you, his brows raised. "you just noticed?" 

"i don't look at you a lot." 

"oh, please," he shakes his head. "i've caught you staring." 

"i only stare when i'm worried that you're a robot planted by aliens or something. you say weird things." 

he laughs, and his hands squeeze your waist. he could stab you in the back right now and it wouldn't even matter. you're not even worried about it. he could flirt with you all night and you don't think you'd quite mind.

you giggle at the thought, heart beating fast with every breath that comes from him. 

"what?" 

"you're not a bad roommate, you know?" you ask him, but maybe you're asking yourself.

"i'm not?" 

"no. you're actually... kinda considerate. my old roommate--my ex--he never wanted to go anywhere with me. he wouldn't have asked me to dance." 

"why not?" 

"i think he thought i was stuck up. or embarassing. or not worth it," you breathe, almost airly, the words are true but they don't matter to you. not like this, pressed up against him. "i don't know." 

gojo's brow furrows. "how?" 

your brows furrow. "how what?" 

"how could he think you're not worth it?" he repeats, and you laugh back. because it's a joke.

"you'd have to ask him." 

"i don't think i'll ever be talking to him," he answers, voice rough. "it wouldn't be good for either of us. and i don't trust people with such terrible taste." 

you giggle at the thought of the frog sculpture, the disgusted look on gojo's face. you can almost see through him.

"you shouldn't," you answer, not even thinking.  

there's a moment where the room is quiet, everyone inhaling at the same time, and then exhaling. you feel like you fit here, somehow. like everything is moving at just the right place. this silence is a comforting feeling, the bubbles bursting in your stomach reiterating it. 

"hey," gojo says, interrupting that feeling. 

"what?" 

"you're a good roommate, too. you're not stuck up. or embarassing." 

"i'm not?" 

he smiles at you. "well, you're a little mean." 

you smile back. "only to you, satoru." 

his face drops, but you don't notice. you lean against his chest again, your eyes fluttering shut. if you were focused enough, you could feel his heartbeat. but you don't. and you don't watch as he swallows. as his voice falters, for only a single second.

but you do look at him when he says, "my friends like you." 

"they do?" 

he laughs, pushing his sunglasses back up on his face. "wasn't it obvious?" 

you shake your head. you're not sure how long you've been standing with him, or if it even matters. you're not even sure if you're still in the bar, or your bed, being covered with your blanket, tucked in by gentle hands. 

how long has it been now? 

"i like you too," gojo whispers, "just so you know." 

and you could be at home, with your roommate. you could be right next to him. it doesn't matter, because you only whisper, "good," and then it's all gone. 

*

when you wake up the next morning, gojo is already laughing at you. 

your headache is a curse. your mind is in shambles. and your body aches with the manipulation of only one person. 

you hate your roommate and his terrible taste in drinks and that he doesn't even say anything when you slump against the counter, not even bothering to make fun of you or complain about how terrible you are when you're drunk. 

he just smiles easily, ruffling your hair.  

and when he starts to cook some bacon in the pan, you don't say anything, but you go and stand next to him, letting him hold you up. 

there are no words. only the popping of oil in a pan. 

and that feeling, of course. because it wasn't the alcohol. 

*

so maybe satoru gojo is your friend. you will not admit this to anyone aloud, but you concede a little bit in your head, because it's a fragile place there, and you're a terrible liar. 

and so maybe you hang out with him sometimes. 

it's not just the game nights or study sessions anymore. you sit on the couch and play with your phone and he sits down next to you. he'll rub your feet, or massage your legs and you let him. 

only because he's kinda good at it, of course. 

and sometimes you'll turn on a movie and he'll appear out of nowhere, complaining about whatever you picked, but laying down nonetheless. and after several minutes he'll move closer to you, resting his head on your thigh. and you might play with his hair, but only because it's unreasonably soft. 

and some mornings when you wake up and make yourself breakfast, not even trying to be quiet, you'll make a little extra. but it's not for him, it's just a coincidence. 

and he stops by the library on his way home from suguru's, or some girl's house, and the two of you will walk home together, talking about class, or the weather, or whatever gojo wants. you let him do this, because it's usually dark outside, and you don't like walking home alone. 

and if he barges into your room sometimes--obviously not knocking--you only complain a little bit. and then you let him lay in your bed and mess with your things. 

but only because it's the easier option, of course. 

and you've missed the feeling of having someone near. and satoru gojo is easy to be around. 

*

"gojo," you gasp, as soon as the door opens in your face. and then you scowl. "don't you knock?" 

he pushes you so he can move past, raising a brow at you. "i live here." his hands are empty, and he's not wearing a coat again. just a weird button-up probably more expensive than your share of the rent. how he's survived over two decades, you're not sure. 

your brows furrow at him. "well, you could give some warning if you're going to kick open the door. what if you broke my nose?" 

"well, why were you standing right in front of the door when i kicked it?" gojo mimics, flicking you away, then looking down to your hands where your wallet and keys are piled up. "you going somewhere?" 

"to the store." 

"it's eleven." 

"why thank you for that update, gojo. i really appreciate it," and then you move beside him to open the door. 

but gojo grabs your hand, making sure to roll his eyes at you where you can see it, and pulls you away so he can step in front of the door. "what could you need from the store right now?" 

"i need stuff." 

he crosses his arms, uncharacteristically stern. "like what?" 

"stuff. girl stuff. you wouldn't get it." 

he gasps, mouth dropping. "oh no, did i steal too many of your tampons again?" 

"first of all, that's against the apartment rules, so you better hope not. second of all, please move," you glare at him. "i need to hurry." 

"you can't leave right now." 

"i believe there's such a thing as free will..." you try and push him away, but he doesn't budge. "and you're not the boss of me." 

"it's too late for you to walk to the store. go tomorrow." 

you cross your arms. "when have i ever listened to you?" you ask him, feeling that familiar irritation crawl up your skin. 

but then gojo is pulling your arms apart and resting them at your sides and saying "stop that," as a gentle chide. and that irritation molds. you push his hands away. 

you want to push his hands off of the edge of the earth just so that he'll never touch you again.

"seriously, gojo, i need to go. they close at midnight." 

"you can't walk to the store by yourself in the dark." 

"i can do whatever i want." 

"then i'm locking you in your room until tomorrow. you're grounded." 

you poke his shoulder. you can't decide if he's serious or not. his voice is always teasing, and you can't see enough of his eyes. and you can't trust a single thing he says. "when did you become so overbearing?" you ask him, trying not to grind your teeth. 

"when i realized how weak you are." 

"weak?" you balk at him. "i'm not weak. please retract that sentence before i accidentally punch you." 

"you can't even push me away from the door. i'll take my chances with your fists." 

"that's because you're irritating me," you tell him, as you try to do it again. "anger distracts me." 

he laughs at you, leaning even further against the door. 

"gojo," you whine, trying to pinch him away instead. "stop being an ass. just get out of the way." 

he holds a hand to his chest, offended. "i am showing concern about your safety," he claims, shaking his head at you. 

"you are ruining my mood." 

"oh, good." 

you scowl. "move. right now." 

"that was very intimidating," he grins at you, "but maybe try again." 

you groan and try to stab him with your key, which he pushes away, still smiling, still completely the worst. 

"i--" you sigh, "i don't like you very much." 

he snorts. 

then you pout at him, fluttering your eyelashes. "please, gojo. i'll be back in fifteen minutes." 

"what is that?" 

you frown. "what?" 

"what's wrong with your face?" 

you throw your arms up, shaking your head. then you mutter another thing about hating him under your breath and finally turn away. you set your keys and your wallet on the counter, pouting as you sit down on the couch. 

gojo is there a moment later, laughing at you. "was that supposed to be convincing?" 

"don't talk to me. ever again." 

you shake your head, fed up with him and everything about this living situation. how are you locked in your apartment right now?

gojo tilts his head back, and then pauses for a moment.  

"then how am i supposed to ask if you want to come with me to the store?" he asks, nonchalantly. "i need some stuff." 

and you should be angry at him--you should probably break one of his fingers or cut his hair off in his sleep. you should tell him that you hate his company and that if he ever tells you what to do again-- 

but instead, you jump up from the couch, smiling at him. "let's go," you say, quickly, before you change your mind. 

and you don't get to see it when gojo smiles back at you, softly. 

*

"hey," he whispers, "you shouldn't sleep here." 

gojo is shaking your shoulder gently, his breath on your face, his voice soft--even in the haze of disrupted sleep. there's a warm feeling in your belly as he speaks to you, an unknowing smile on your face.

"hmm?" you answer, trying to remember who you are and why you're here. who he is.

"it's almost midnight. what are you doing on the couch?" gojo is helping you sit up. his hands are ridiculously warm, and you don't think about how nice they feel on the bare skin of your back. 

"gojo?" 

he laughs. "the one and only. c'mon, i'll tuck you in." 

"did you just get home?" you must still be sleeping, because his hands are so soft right now. and his voice is so quiet--like the creaking of an old house. 

"yeah. are you going to get up?" he's kneeling in front of you, and his face is bare. you almost want to laugh at how bright his hair is even in the dark. 

"where were you?" 

he shakes his head, smiling up at you, and moves from the floor. "c'mon, sit up," he beckons, trying to get you to move your head from its place. you wince. eventually, he gives up and your heart almost disappears when he picks you up, tapping your legs so that you'll wrap them around his waist. 

you do it, but only because you don't want to fall. 

"why are you so tall?" you complain as he carries you to your room, feeling much more awake when you're this high in the air. 

gojo snorts. "i'll take that as a thank you," he whispers in your ear and sets you on your bed. then he sits on the edge and takes your socks off, pulling the covers out from under you. his movements are slow as he covers every inch of skin he can see, his breath the only sound between the two of you. 

it's colder when his hands move, and he looks at you for a moment as if trying to make sure he's satisfied with his job. 

"are you going to make fun of me for this in the morning?" 

gojo grins, squeezing your leg as he stands up. "probably. but only a little." 

"okay," you yawn, blinking as he backs up towards the door. 

"night, sweetheart," he whispers to you, and then a flash of hair is all you see before your door is closed and you drift back to sleep. 

and in the morning you wake up and can't remember how you got in bed. gojo doesn't say a thing. 

*

satoru gojo can say so much without saying a single thing. 

when he burst into your room--surprising you because you hadn't realized he was home--throwing himself on your bed and mumbling something about hating his life, you didn't say a word. 

and he'd sat there for ten minutes while you typed out a paper on your laptop, glancing over to him every couple of minutes, slightly worried because he hadn't moved an inch. 

you've seen a lot of his moods recently. you've seen him excited about some movie you didn't understand, exhausted after a long day of classes, angry when suguru and you leave him out of a joke. but most of that, you assume, is just him being himself. every feeling he has is probably seven times larger than the average person's.

but now that he's groaning into your bed, you can tell, just from the way his body deflates, that there's something wrong. you could see it when he walked in the room, and felt it because he'd told you he was getting dinner with his parents tonight. 

but if you know one thing about him, it's that he won't talk about it if you ask. 

because after a couple of weeks of spending more and more time with him, you'd quickly realized that you didn't actually know much about his life. he doesn't tell any stories about his childhood, or high school years--minus the ones that he tried to suffocate suguru for letting slip. he doesn't mention his parents much, and when he does, it's nothing but the bare minimum. he mentions classes so offhandedly that you hadn't even known how extensive his studies were until suguru was teasing him about an award he'd gotten a couple of years ago. 

he could talk to you for hours on end, but he wouldn't say anything. 

so after realizing this, you'd resorted to asking suguru about it.

that night, gojo was asleep on the floor between your feet. his hand was under his head, and he was snoring loud enough for you to notice. you'd sat down to watch a movie with him after he'd claimed that you and suguru were losers for being tired at this hour and that he was the youngest of you all. 

suguru only smiled a little bit at your question.

"satoru keeps an infinite amount of space between him and everyone else," he'd said softly, into the warm air of your apartment. "even with me, and i've known him since we were kids. his family..." he trailed off, shaking his head.

you'd frowned. "what?" 

"he's always been too much for them, in a way. i mean, you know, he is too much most of the time. but he does all of it purposefully; the arrogance, the bravado. i don't know... i think he just wants to control whatever image everyone has of him. to the extent that his personality is based on pushing people away, just so he can figure out who's actually going to stick around." 

you'd watched him then, with his fluttering eyelashes--his sunglasses lying on the ground next to him--and his bright hair. the gentle movement of his lips as he dreamt. he was softer like this, less forceful, less of a burden, and more of a boy.

and beautiful, of course, but that's an offhanded thought you wouldn't acknowledge.

"so, he doesn't talk to you about--" the words felt wrong, and you almost felt guilty for talking about him like this, with his best friend. but still. "--important stuff?" 

"he talks to me about a lot of things. but, no, not really. i get a long-winded rant sometimes, but not often." 

"then how are you supposed to know anything about him?"

suguru smiled at you, looking between you and gojo like there was a secret he didn't want to tell. he sighed. "satoru doesn't really tell me any of the important stuff because we've known each other for so long. i understand how his family is because i've watched him deal with them. i can guess how he's feeling based on his expression. but for people he hasn't known as long, like you, getting to know him is like i-spy." 

suguru didn’t need to elaborate. you got it.

like trying to find little hints of him hidden between all of the mess. you'd snorted and agreed. 

and it feels even more true now, with him cowering in your blankets. but still, you say nothing. 

you get it, to a certain degree. vulnerability was one of the feelings you liked to push away; secrets were only supposed to be coveted by you. getting close to people was a dangerous thing, risky in its own way. 

but, thinking that gojo doesn't trust you--couldn't trust you... it's more irritating than it should be. and maybe that's just because you're arrogant, and think yourself to be trustworthy. or maybe it's because you trust him, in your own unique way, even with all of his too much and extremeness. 

you don't say that to him though, just like he doesn't say anything to you. 

"hey," you push him with a foot. "are you drooling on my comforter?" 

there's a moment of silence, then gojo rolls over. "not a lot." 

you roll your eyes at him and type another sentence--a collection of words that have nothing to do with the actual essay you're writing, naturally--waiting for him to say something else. 

and, predictably, he does. "why aren't you paying attention to me?" 

"i'm busy, gojo." 

"no, you're not." 

"i am doing homework." 

he looks up at you. his sunglasses are somewhere on your floor. "well, then you're definitely not busy," he grins. 

you swat away a hand that tries to steal your computer. 

"aren't you supposed to be at dinner?" you ask him, trying to seem like you don't care about the answer. 

he sighs again. "canceled." 

"why?" 

"my dad had a meeting or something." 

"oh." 

you let the silence wade for a minute or two, trying to be discreet when you watch his face for any signs of discontent. but gojo just has his eyes closed. his hands above his head. 

eventually, you nudge him again. "did you eat anything?" 

he shakes his head. 

"do you want me to make you something?" 

an eye opens. he turns over and rests his head on his hands, squinting at you. "are you being nice to me?" 

"not intentionally." 

he snorts, poking you, almost in awe. "you are." 

"i'm just trying to make sure you don't die, okay? who knows what you've eaten today." 

he crawls up your bed, sitting right next to you so he can rest his head on your shoulder. and you should push him off, but you don't. "it's okay. i'm not very hungry." 

"that's not what i asked." 

gojo laughs against you, his hair brushing against your neck. 

you shouldn't say anything more. you shouldn't even entertain him and his antics, and you shouldn't even care (but you do. for some, stupid, infuriating reason). 

so you look at him, and your voice is soft when you ask, "you okay?" to him, hoping that it doesn't seem too intrusive. wishing that you didn't actually care if he was or not.

gojo's eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, you get that feeling again. 

that feeling in your stomach that makes you want to jump away from him. that makes your hands want to shake, and your voice fade. that feeling that you know--too well, too much--but can't get rid of. 

like an itch you're not really supposed to scratch. 

gojo swallows. "yeah," he answers, with no grin, no conceit. "i'm okay." 

and it shouldn't feel like a relief to hear, but it does. you nod, look away, and go back to your computer. back to your actual life, which shouldn't have any satoru gojo in it. 

but a minute later he adds: "i'd be better if you made me dinner, though." 

and you pull on his hair a little. you try to pretend like his smile doesn't fill you with butterflies. 

*

this shouldn't be happening. 

it's the only reasonable thought running through your brain at the moment. the only echo you can discern, the only words you can make out in the jumble of anxiety and horror running through your mind. 

he should not be this close. 

gojo had only picked you up from work once again, his easy smile meeting yours as soon as he walked through the door--you'd been waiting, wondering when he was going to show up. 

at seven-thirty he was there, letting in the cold air and sitting in the seat next to yours, complaining about the fact that you had a job that diverted your attention away from him while you rolled your eyes. 

he sat there for the half an hour remaining in your shift, distracting you. 

two months ago you would've kicked him out. would've called some make-believe security. 

but you just listened while he talked to you about space theories that didn't make any sense. 

and then he'd grabbed your bag for you, turning off the lights before you could, pushing in chairs while you organized the reception desk. 

and his hand grabbed yours before you thought to notice--swinging along while the two of you began the walk home. 

and halfway there, gojo stopped, looking up at something. "hey," he'd poked you. "look at the stars." 

you'd done it, begrudgingly, squinting. "i can count, like, three." 

"there's at least five." 

"why did you stop me to do this? it's cold." 

"because they look nice," he argues, looking down at you. "you have no eye for beauty." 

and, really, you might've agreed with him. you might've pushed him away from you and told him to hurry up and you might've not cared at all. 

but you could see his eyes, just a little bit, behind his sunglasses. and his smile was alabaster, and that feeling--that gasping for breath, trying to hold on to anything feeling--was there again. 

and it was poking you. like a push in some direction. like a laugh telling you that you were too afraid to do anything. 

you were looking at him. right at his face and the only thing you wanted to say was that he was wrong. 

he was wrong because at least you knew that he looked beautiful. 

but those words wouldn't leave your lips--that thought couldn't leave your head--so you were only staring at him. wishing that you'd never let him into your apartment and that he hadn't started becoming a person to you. 

it wasn't fair like this. 

"what?" he whispered, his smile dropping, like he could tell there was something wrong with you. like he knew you that well. 

if he'd kept on smiling, you wouldn't have done it. you wouldn't have pushed up on your toes and leaned into him, and you wouldn't have kissed him like you did. 

like you're doing. 

and it would've been fine because you never would've started this knowing that it would eventually have to stop. 

and even though it takes him less than a second to kiss you back--his lips molding to yours like an automatic reaction--you know that you shouldn't be doing this. 

that you can't be doing this. not with him. not like this. 

so when gojo's hands move to your waist, his breath even in your mouth, you push at his chest. and you want to run away. 

"i'm--" you swallow, trying not to taste him, the bubblegum flavor of him, and almost flinch away. "i'm sorry." 

gojo's mouth is frozen from where he stands two feet away. his hands are in the air like he doesn't know what to do with them. "you..." 

and you've never heard him speechless before. just the idea of it makes you blurt out whatever comes to mind. "i shouldn't have done that," you tell him, and, "i didn't mean to--i don't--" you shake your head. "sorry. i'm sorry. can we forget about this? can we get home because i'm really cold?" 

"you kissed me," gojo says, so simply. 

the words are another blow to your heart. you were hoping that he wouldn't have noticed. 

and wince and watch him, his face as it shifts, moving with each thought in his head. 

"gojo, i'm really--" 

"no," he interrupts, taking a step towards you. 

"what?" 

"that's not my name." 

you frown. "yes it is?" 

he shakes his head. "no, it's satoru. you've said it before, you know. you should keep saying it." 

"when have i said it?" you ask, momentarily blinded by how he demands this. who is he to demand anything? 

"when you were drunk." 

you scoff. "i'm not just going to call you by your first name cause you want me to," you tell him, "who do you think i am?" 

and then satoru laughs, shaking his head at you, his grin full-force on his face. "are you serious? you kissed me and now you don't want to call me by my first name?" 

you freeze. "i said i was sorry about that," you say, weakly. 

you feel like who you've always felt around him. not as easy, not as cool, never as smooth. you feel like a child caught doing something they're not supposed to. you want to run away from him, but he knows where you live. 

"you're sorry?" 

"i didn't mean to." 

he quirks a brow. "you didn't mean to?" 

"it was an accident?" 

he takes another step closer. "it was an accident?" 

"are you just going to keep repeating everything i say?" you ask, voice hard. this must be a dream. 

satoru shakes his head at you. "no, but i have a question." 

"...okay." 

"if i try to kiss you right now, are you going to try and murder me? i know that we're away from the apartment right now, but it would really ruin the mood." 

you stare at him. 

it must be answer enough because he steps forward and he kisses you again. but this time, it feels less mechanical. his lips are soft and smooth as they push against yours--and he pushes like he's demanding something from you. like he knows more about what you can give than you do. 

and he grins against you like he's doing everything exactly right. 

but when satoru pulls back, your eyes stay shut. you try and banish the feeling in your stomach from your body, but it doesn't respond to idle threats. 

"we shouldn't do this," you whisper to him. you don't open your eyes. you don't want to see his face and fall victim to another one of his schemes. 

"why not?" 

"the last time i kissed one of my roommates..." you imply, hoping that you don't have to tell him that you're scared. 

"oh, right," he brushes some hair from your face. he has not moved an inch away from you. "i forgot that you're experienced." 

"wasn't it obvious?" 

he laughs, and then nudges your cheek with a finger. "look at me." 

you shake your head. 

"c'mon, just a little." 

his voice is so soft. satoru is whispering like it's just for you. and you've never heard him like this and you don't think you want to see him. 

"please, sweetheart?" he asks, one last time, and you have to. if only to put yourself out of your own misery. "good. now listen--" 

"don't tell me what to do." 

he rolls his eyes. "listen," he repeats. "i know you don't like me very much. and i know that you only keep me around for my rent money and my pretty face--" 

you kinda want to hit him. 

"--but i've wanted to kiss you for weeks. and i'm not good at the..." he swallows, blinking just briefly. "all of the telling stuff, but i want to be. with you. for you." 

you're not sure if that's the end, or if it's the beginning. your eyes are stuck on his smile, and you're not listening to anything he said. 

he's very close right now. so accessible. and it's just another reason to want to push him away. 

satoru clears his throat, nudging your head with his nose. "and i'm tired of shoko and suguru calling me a coward, so it'd be great if you'd mention that you kissed me first." 

your brows furrow. "you told shoko and suguru?" 

"i didn't say anything," he almost swears. "they tricked me into admitting it." 

"when?" 

"...the day after i introduced you to them." 

you pull away to observe his face. "really?" 

he groans. "stop looking at me like that," he says, "it's mean." 

you almost smile at him again. then close your eyes. "okay."

"havent you listened to anything i've said to you?" he asks, rhetorically. "i flirt with you every day." 

"you flirt with everything." 

"mmm, true," he leans his chin against your head, breathing you in. "now that i've poured my heart out for you, can we go home? it's cold out here, and i'd rather make out on our couch than that bench over there." 

"who said anything about making out?" 

"please," he wraps an arm around your shoulder, and smiles down at you--with all of the typical swagger--and maybe this time you let him. 

*

[macsimagines]

Hello again dearest! I hope you’ve been doing well and that life has been treating you kindly ♡

With my second and third Uni midterms looming over me, I would like to request Yan! Izana, Ran, & Shin with a foreign darling~ One who is an international university student in Japan on a student visa

And if it’s not too long, I’d like a follow up of their darling taking them to visit their home country for the holidays since the Yan’s can’t bear to be apart from their darling especially when they would be overseas alone without them ♡♡

I've actually had foreign japanese students at my old school and uni though we weren't' close wish i couldve interacted more and maybe learned something from them hah

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, MINORS DNI, BABY TRAPPING, SCUM BAG BEHAVIOR

Yandere! Izana Kurokawa

He was attracted to you right away, not even romantically or physically, just having been of mixed decent and then seeing someone who might relate to his own experiences interested him.

Became very romantically interested after a few interactions however, you had such a fresh perspective as a foreigner and some of the things he's had to live through seemed to resonate with you.

"Your step-mom was straightup evil. No kid should have to go through that, and I hope your kingdom is as beautiful as you make it out to be."

Hooked for life right away. And also distraught at the thought of you leaving, would constantly try to convince you to get a citizenship and just live here forever with him.

"Why even go back if I'm here?" Is one thousand percent serious, you've become such a huge part of his entire being so it must be the same for you right?

When you convince him to come with you on holiday home to meet your family though, something changes. You don't have to stay in Japan, you just have to stay with him.

As long as you're together than everything will work out. It wasn't like you could so much as leave his place without him being glued to your hip, good luck getting out of the country without him tagging along.

Yandere! Ran Haitani

He is sooo enamored by you. Fetishizing people because of their race is so goddamn gross but the fact that you're foreign definitely is what attracts him to you to begin with.

Ran is so toxic with it to. Calls you exotic like its some kind of compliment, tells you you're accent is soooo cute when you're doing your best to sound natural, makes fun of you for every mispronunciation.

But you don't know anyone in Japan and he's 6'1 so you put up with it. He's just so tall and pretty and he knows all the best spots in roppongi so of course you choose to suck it up.

Afterall, its not like it's forever. He's just your heavy and hot fling that you can go home and brag to your friends about, right? Wrong. He's sprung bitch and you're stuck with him.

"Hey, when are we going to your neck of the woods for this holiday?" "...We?" "Ya, I gotta pack and get my ticket soon, right?"

Hope you're ready to disappoint your folks now that you're bringing home this freak show. Don't forget his dream is to become a foreign celebrity so he wants to experience it all when he visits with you.

"Man, this trip is so much fun. I can't wait for next year."

Yandere!Shinichiro Sano

Worships you. He can't spit game for shit, but thankfully you don't understand him too well to begin with. It's a match made in heaven!

He doesn't make fun of you when you get your words wrong or fumble a sentence, but he does think its so cute. Shinichiro doesn't try to infantilize you but it does come off like that.

God the fact that you want him and you stick with him even though he's such a dork makes him love you so much, he doesn't even think he deserves you.

Hates it when you go home the first time. He can't even talk to you on the phone because of service issues, and trust me this dude was ready to take out loans for collect call just to hear your voice.

Bombards you with all kinds of questions like "Who did you see? Who were you with? Are you going back!?"

So my big headcanon is that he's a baby trapper. So when you talk about going next season he's already trying to figure out how knock you up.

Ends up fucking you with busted condoms (he poked holes) a few weeks before your trip because he needed to give you a VERY good reason to come back.

Just tells you "It's cause I'm going to miss you so much baby, I gotta get as much of you as I can. :)"

You end up surprising him with a ticket for him to come with you. He honestly could cry tears of joy, but he'll save it for when you discover his own little surprise.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 86 (Family Drama)

The next evening, before Heather and Conrad left for their date, her youngest sister, Hazel, arrived in Brindleton Bay to watch her niece and nephew.

Ash excitedly called to her from the computer as soon as she walked in the door. "Aunt Hazel, Aunt Hazel, come check out my new game!"

"Thanks for driving out here so Conrad and I can have a night out," Heather said. "The security cameras are working and Conrad's getting the kids fed before we go, so just get them to bed at a decent hour and no horror movies."

"It's just food colouring," she protested, but with Heather's stern glance she nodded obediently. "Sorry, Ashy. No Moonlight Massacre tonight, after all."

Heather changed the subject before Ash could complain. "I'm sad you won't be in town when we're in Henford this weekend to meet River and Cass' new baby boy. Dad says you don't call home enough."

Hazel laughed. "Dad tells me you don't call enough! None of us could ever call home enough. River still lives there and Dad probably thinks he doesn't get to see enough of him, either."

"Missing out on Dad guilt tripping us to visit for a political conference in San Myshuno's pretty cool, though. Ash, that's enough game time. Conrad's almost finished making your dinner."

Ash moaned, but he turned off the computer and headed for the kitchen as Hazel picked up her niece for a cuddle in her unicorn onesie. "I'm kind of glad to be out of Henford for the night to get in time with Ashy and Lava. Has that weird old dude been a problem lately?"

Heather made sure Ash was out of earshot. "Not since the restraining order," she said, the relief on her face more than evident. "And you're stuck on those nicknames, huh? I thought nicknames were too corny for you."

"It's not my fault your kids are just as cool as volcanoes, big sis."

Heather grinned. Hazel, the baby of their family, could get away with anything and dripped charm to spare, but Heather could tell something was weighing on her mind. "Are you doing okay?"

Hazel took a deep breath, setting Lavender down before she moved to the sofa. "What made you realize you wanted to be single when we were in high school?"

Heather laughed. "It was just easier than having feelings. It's still easier than having feelings, but finding the right person is better. What's wrong?"

She frowned. "What if Nicola and I got married too young? We're different people than we were as teens. When her dad died of a heart attack a few months ago, it felt like I wasn't married to the same person anymore. I know she's grieving, but what if we didn't wait long enough into young adulthood to figure it all out?"

Heather could empathize with her sister's confusion over love and relationships. Not too long ago, Heather would have found it unthinkable to offer her siblings, of all people, relationship advice, but Conrad had shown her what great love could be.

"You know I've never been very flirty or romantic, and I held on to my relationship with Malcolm too long because I didn't think I deserved any better. I'd never recommend it, but I also know Nicola's not Malcolm Landgraab. If you trust her, you can tell her the truth."

Hazel nodded. "No, she's definitely not like Malcolm."

"If you're truly unhappy, don't force it because you think you're supposed to. But if you're asking me, I think it means there's still some fight in you to keep it together."

(Lovestruck's new relationship and chemistry features went after Hazel and her new wife, and I'm rolling with it to see what happens. I cheated their relationship back up a bit - as if what Heather said encouraged her to fight a little more - and we'll see how it goes with them.

The way I said that probably gave away what might happen but pfft you don't know!)

Grateful for her eldest sister's advice, Hazel turned her attention back to Lavender, while Heather joined Ash and Conrad in the kitchen.

"Tomorrow night we'll pack some things into your backpack for your weekend at your dad's," Heather said to her son. "He'll pick you up after school on Friday and take you to his place for the weekend."

"He'll probably send their driver like usual," he shrugged. "But Ray's cool."

"What do you mean, 'like usual?'"

Ash looked at her with confusion etched on his face. "Daddy's reporting til seven on the news every weeknight, Mommy!"

Heather stared at Conrad, wide-eyed. "He told me he does those hits pre-recorded."

"He always sends Ray, and Ray always takes me to get ice cream before we get to Daddy's penthouse. Why do you look pretend happy, Mommy? I love ice cream!"

"Your mom just hasn't met Ray, buddy."

"But Mommy, he's not a stranger. He's Ray!"

Heather plastered a smile, and Conrad reached under the table to caress her clenched fist. "I'll be at school on Friday afternoon when Ray's there to pick you up at three," she said. "If he's as nice as you say, I don't want him to be a stranger to me."

Ash smiled. "Okay, Mommy, that's a good a idea."

Heather felt constantly undermined by the Landgraabs. But there was little she could say without disappointing her son, and she didn't want bitterness to affect her night with Conrad. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: Their date continues Monday but tomorrow there will be a bonus post inspired by @purplesimmer455! 👀

NOTE 2: Also noting, since this is an episode where nothing much seems to be happening, there are a few subtle hints in here, too, about how Conrad is on a pedestal, especially when Heather compares him to Malcolm, even though we all know he's keeping this massive secret from her, too.

[lilywastaken]

First of all I hope this is the request section second of all love your writings you’ve done so far <3 now to my request, I’ve been seeing way to many edits about dream in mr beast Antartica video. What if fem/reader went along with them and slept with in dream,sapnap, jimmy tent. It would be a dream x reader, friends to lovers or already a couple your choice :). Can’t wait to read more from you <3

⇝ARTIC COLD.

CC! DreamWasTaken x FEM!Reader.

SUMMARY: Spending 50 hours in Antarctica wasn't on your list of things to do this month, but neither was sharing a sleeping bag with your crush.

WARNINGS: Fluff, mentions of blood, illness (Dream's ill the whole time ☠️.), a lot of swearing!

A/N: My first request!! Thank you so much for it! <3 I chose the friends to lovers route with it, and kind of got carried away cause I love this idea (as you'll see)!! I'm actually really proud of this one, it might be my favourite piece of writing yet LMAO. Requests are still open!! Please don't forget to reblog/comment if you enjoy the post, it helps a lot!! Thank you all for the support! &lt;33

WORD COUNT: 5.8K

MASTERLIST.

Also on ao3!

You were used to travelling at this point.

Living with some of the biggest content creators of the year and creating content yourself meant that you were always being invited to places, whether it be conventions or get-togethers with internet friends.

And although you were well acquainted with Karl and knew who he worked for, you had never expected to be invited to be part of one of Mr Beast's survival challenges alongside your roommates and his crew, and you would've been crazy to even imagine you'd be invited to travel to Antarctica of all places.

After living for half a year in one of the warmer states in the U.S., you didn't know how you were meant to survive below 0 degrees when all you had to wear were tank tops and the occasional long sleeved shirt.

Which meant you were stuck borrowing your roommates' big chunky jackets and sweaters that they had brought alongside them for the trip.

It wasn't as if you weren't used to borrowing clothes from them, hell, you were pretty sure most of your closet consisted of Dream's clothes that were too small to fit him anymore.

But that didn't make it any less embarrassing.

"You look like a penguin."

George snorted as soon as you stumbled out of the jet's tiny bathroom, sporting one of the many jackets you were required to wear before exiting the aircraft and stepping onto Antarctica.

"Go fuck yourself." You sneered back, zipping your coat up to your chin and shoving your hands into the pockets, somehow already feeling the chill from the outside despite not having landed yet. "I'm afraid I won't be able to look as stylish as you wish me to during our stay in fucking Antarctica."

"I think you look stylish enough." Clay teased cheekily as he walked up from behind you, large hands landing on your shoulders to manoeuvre you out of his way, causing you to roll your eyes long enough to cause a headache at the cockiness he was exhibiting simply because you had chosen to wear his clothes instead of anyone else's.

"You're just saying that because it's your jacket she's wearing." Nolan commented as Karl helped him zip up the last of the many coats he was wearing, a teasing tone in his voice.

"And she looks good in it, what's the issue?" Dream didn't seem to want to back down from their back and forth, as usually happened with those. When Nolan didn't respond, the blond turned his head around and shot you a grin along with a thumbs up, his silent way of boasting after one of his so-called wins.

"You're such an idiot." You muttered under your breath as Sapnap handed you one of the many scarves that were littered across the floor, and you for one were glad that you had something to cover your face, not wanting anyone to notice the warmth that had risen to your cheeks after your small interaction with Dream.

Despite you living with him for almost a full year, he had somehow never gotten the memo about your true feelings towards him, unlike both Sapnap and George and half of the goddamn internet, who were full-on convinced that you were head over heels for the previously faceless YouTuber, and to be fair, they weren't far off.

He'd been the first one to reach out after lurking around in your streams, the first one to invite you into their server and make an effort to include you into the ongoing lore, to add you to streams with his internet friends and therefore introduce you to the people who you now considered to be your best friends.

It was inevitable, really. After countless hours spent listening to each other's voices through your speakers and being one of the first people to see his face despite his initial fear of rejection, how could you not fall in love with him? He was perfect, from the way his nose crinkled when he smiled to the countless moles adorning his body, he was perfect.

It was stupid, really, how hard you'd fallen for someone who had started out as a simple stranger on the internet who happened to also play Minecraft to one of the people you loved the most.

And you were going to make sure that he'd never know how much you truly loved him, the chances of your confession ruining the friendship you both had built too high to even consider.

"Why are you guys just standing around, we're about to land!" Jimmy came out of the cockpit, clapping his hands together and ushering everyone towards their luggage in an effort to get you to get ready quicker. "Come on! I don't want any of you catching frostbite and dying on me!"

"Wait, that's possible!?"

Despite all the layers of clothing Dream was currently sporting, he somehow managed to feel your hand wrap around his elbow, shuffling closer to his taller build as you readied to exit the aircraft.

"You okay?" He pulled his ski mask down below his lips so he could send you a reassuring smile, his juniper eyes obscured by the ski goggles that sat snuggly on his face.

"Yep. Totally okay. Totally not freaking out because we're about to spend 50 hours in the coldest place on earth. Totally fine, Clay." Your words came out of your mouth almost at the speed of light as your gloved hands fumbled with the scarf around your neck, receiving a laugh from the blond in response.

"Calm down. I doubt Jimmy will actually let us die, okay?" He moved your hands away from your face and fixed your problem himself, the smile on his lips only growing as his fingers brushed against your warming cheeks, a huge contrast to the cold air swirling outside.

"And if you do, just make sure to tell everyone to like and subscribe, okay?" A small 'oof!' left you as Chandler slammed his hands on your shoulders from behind, getting a slightly angered glare from Dream and a few giggles from the others at his action.

"Fuck you, man." You smiled, the sweet yet very brief encouragement you'd received lifting your spirits almost immediately.

But they were swiftly dampened as the doors opened, and holy fucking shit, you'd underestimated how cold it was going to be.

The sun was shining onto your small group, but not a single trace of warmth was felt on your skin, and oh god what you'd give to be back home curled underneath your bed covers holding Patches in your arms.

Jimmy didn't spare a single second to start the challenge, already heading over to the spot he'd claimed would be perfect for the makeshift camp that would be your home for the next two days.

Luckily, you'd been tasked with carrying one of the lighter pieces of luggage, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't almost busted a lung laughing whenever you saw one of the boys slip or trip and fall flat on their faces, but you did stop every time Dream stopped to cough, knowing he had caught a chill right before boarding the plane and the freezing temperatures you were being forced to travel through would likely do him no good.

After surviving a surprise blizzard and almost slipping a few times, you finally reached the spot Jimmy had marked in his mental map. You were almost ready to collapse into the soft looking snow, but of course, you were forced to put up the tents you'd be staying in, which proved even more difficult than propping up a normal tent in the woods, thanks to the never ending wind and slippy snow.

But as soon as you were allowed into the safety of the main tent, you curled into a ball in the corner and fought with your gloves to turn on your phone, which barely worked due to the cold.

"What the fuck are you trying to do with that?" Sapnap groaned as he fell to the ground in front of you, spying at the device in your hands as if he were some sort of prehistoric man and this was his first contact with fire. "You're an actual imbecile if you think there's going to be even a sliver of reception here."

You stuck your tongue out to him and moved to kick his side with your snow boots, snickering in victory as he finally moved away from you, leaving an empty spot at your side as Jimmy started to take out the strange contraptions that were required to make food in such extreme weather, but you were too tired to listen in to his explanation.

"Made you something." You visibly cringed at the sound of Dream's groggy voice before he came into view, ski mask and goggles abandoned so you could see clearly how red and runny his nose was, gloves off so he could hand you the warm packet of food he claimed to have made.

"Didn't know you were a Rudolph cosplayer.", You commented on his appearance with a sly smile, almost dropping the food as you felt him curl into your side, head falling onto your shoulder with a shaky moan of pain, clearly not amused by your attempt at a joke. "You okay?"

"No. Not okay." He whined, his warm breath hitting your neck from where his head was situated and causing goosebumps to form, your body still not used to this much proximity with him. "I feel like shit. Like… worse than shit."

You'd normally roll your eyes at such a statement, but you knew now that he was telling the truth, you'd seen the blood he coughed up the day before during your stay in Chile, and you knew that a cold could quickly turn into something way worse given the time.

You were ready to offer him help with whatever he needed, but you were cut off before you could even begin as you saw his mouth open wide from the corner of your eye.

"Wh-"

"Feed me." He attempted to say without closing his mouth, soft eyes looking up at you through his long eyelashes with a pleasing look. "C'mon. Hungry."

You tried to ignore the head creeping up your neck as you reached into the bag with the plastic spoon to scoop up some of the now lukewarm food out and into his mouth, watching as he closed his mouth around the spoon and gulped, moaning softly at the taste.

"Holy shit that might actually be the best thing I've ever tasted." He opened his mouth again, waiting for you to shovel a bit more food into his mouth.

"Oh, so what you said about my pesto was a lie?" You said, pouting in mock sadness as you repeated your action, shoving the spoon into his mouth a bit too hard and making him choke, but before you could apologise, he shook his head, answering your previous accusation.

"Okay, second best. Your cooking skills put this delicious cold goop to shame." He joked between a few chews, nudging you slightly with his shoulder. "You know that."

"Ah, so you're comparing my food to this?" You raised the bag in question and shook it a bit to further your point, trying your best to not burst out laughing at how panicked he looked as he tried to explain himself; a frown etching onto his face as you finally broke and let out a soft giggle.

"You're making fun of me." He finally seemed to realise as you nodded in response, about to shove some snow in your face if it weren't for the spoon that was shoved into his mouth and the puppy eyes you shot in his direction.

"Truce?"

The gulp he made was enough of a response for you.

Once the spoon you had used for Dream was well disposed of (you didn't want to risk getting ill yourself), you started eating some of the food yourself, Dream's head still snugly resting on your shoulder as he watched your every movement, making small talk every now and then and joining in on the conversations the others were having.

"Okay, it's like… almost midnight." Jimmy commented as he stared down at his watch, everyone staring back at him with the same bewildered expression, since the sun was still shining down onto your small camp. "We gotta get to bed."

"But it's still sunny outside!" Karl whined, pulling back the entrance slap to stare outside for a split moment, everyone immediately shouting at him for letting the cold in.

"And it's going to stay like that! Did the American school system fail you this badly!? Haven't you lot learnt about Antarctica? The sun is always up here!" George exclaimed in frustration, already zipping up his jacket, urging everyone else to abandon their food and do the same.

"Exactly! So let's get into our tents and try to get some rest, okay?" Jimmy encouraged, trying his best to keep everyone's morale up, picking up his sleeping bag and waiting for everyone to be ready before opening the tent.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You heard Sapnap curse as he followed his group into the tent with their sleeping bags, your own pressed to your chest for extra warmth until you reached the tent you'd be staying in, quickly making yourself at home on the right side.

"Dibs!" You didn't even try to hide the amusement in your voice as you slammed your bag and belongings onto the plastic ground, immediately starting to zip down the giant coat you'd been wearing.

"Yeah, yeah." Jimmy rolled his eyes with a smile as he and Nolan claimed the left side, leaving Dream standing at the entrance in confusion, staring at the empty spot beside your sleeping bag as if it was an abomination of nature.

His brain hadn't seemed to comprehend that he'd be sleeping next to you when you confessed you'd feel safer sleeping in the same tent as him, he had simply assumed you'd be sleeping next to Nolan or Jimmy, not him.

"You okay, dude? You're letting in all the cold." Your voice snapped him out of the daze he had been in, rapidly nodding instead of answering since he really didn't trust his voice to work right then.

Once the tent was zipped up tight, he awkwardly shuffled towards you, watching intently as you pushed your jackets off, which left you in the tight shirt all of you wore beneath the heaps of coats.

His hands shook as he undid his sleeping bag, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the cold or because of how close to you he was going to be in a few minutes.

And he didn't know why this was affecting him so much, he'd been cuddled up into your side less than an hour ago, and he wouldn't be able to count the times you'd crawled into his bed back home after a nightmare or if you were being too lazy to make the few steps that it took from his room to yours. He'd had you in his arms, hell, he'd felt the warm skin of your waist beneath his open palms that one time he helped you decorate the Christmas tree, so why was this different?

Maybe he was deluded.

That's probably right, his cold had gotten so bad that it was affecting his senses, which meant he was now super fucking awkward around you and wanted nothing more than to hide his face in the crook of your neck and feel once again your warm skin bene-

What?

What the fuck?

What the actual fuck?

He froze in his tracks as he stopped his train of thought from going any further, his face heating up as he reviewed the thoughts about you that seemed to have infiltrated his mind.

Well…. it wasn't like he hadn't ever thought about you like that, it was sort of inevitable. You were one of his closest friends, (maybe his closest, but don't tell George that.) and yeah, maybe once in a while he had thought about kissing you, about threading his fingers through your hair and tracing every feature on your pretty face while you laid in his arms.

And… and maybe he had told himself that all those times you had come to him at night for comfort or had stayed in his arms while watching a movie, were nothing but platonic, that you would probably do the same with Sapnap or George (despite the absolute fucking jealousy he felt brewing inside of him at the thought of you lying in their arms instead of his.) and the moments you spent talking about everything and anything at the same time weren't reminiscent to all of his past relationships, because this wasn't a relationship! He was your best friend! Not some creep that was in love with the girl who trusted him the most! Nope! No way.

He nodded to himself in confirmation as he finally finished setting up his sleeping bag, flopping down onto it with an angered huff, ignoring the amused look you sent in his direction.

"You're going to sleep like that?" You questioned, poking his side teasingly, causing him to yelp and move away from your touch as if it was poison as quickly as he could, snapping his head down to look at his outfit.

His cheeks went even redder (if humanly possible) as he realised he had been this close to falling asleep in full Antarctica tactical gear, quickly shoving all of his layers off so he was in the tight shirt your two other tent-mates were also wearing.

"You're so stupid." You snorted at him with a fond smile, turning around on top of your makeshift bed to pick up your phone and some earphones you'd been smart enough to bring. "Downloaded some anime Karl recommended, you want to watch an episode before we sleep?" You offered, making sure your voice was low enough that it didn't disturb Jimmy or Nolan, who were busy talking to the cameraman; lifting an earbud in one hand and waving it around enticingly.

"Y-Yeah, why not?" He smiled back at you, awkwardly shuffling towards you and keeping his distance because he was your friend who respected your boundaries and definitely did not like you.

He sputtered out a whine as you rolled your eyes and pulled his sleeping bag flush against yours, forcing him to sit right next to you, arm to arm, leg to leg and foot to foot. He raised a shaking hand to pop in the earbud you handed to him and tried his best to focus on the screen and not on how fucking warm your skin felt against his, how cute you sounded when you let out a short snort or a low giggle, how pretty you looked from the side with the glow of your phone reflecting your features.

Fuck.

You, for one, were actually enjoying the show at hand (despite only having one earbud, but that didn't matter.), and not focusing on how close Dream was to you, something you were learning to do after all the times you'd spent curled into his side at his bed back home.

You hadn't really thought about how the sleeping arrangements would work back on the plane, you were more concerned about the plastic device Jimmy had shoved into your hand and tried his best to explain how it was supposed to help you use the restroom.

But now that you were given the time to breathe, you finally realised how close you'd be to him, the thought enough to make you want to shove your face into a pillow and scream into it like a schoolgirl, just like every time you ended up in his arms.

Before the episode could finish, the cameraman left after filming a bit of Jimmy and Nolan, the latter escorting him out and turning back around, his gaze flicking down to your sleeping bag.

"Ah, shit, your bag's ripped."

"What?" You let your phone fall onto your lap and leaned over your legs to grab at the end of what would've been your bed if it weren't for the giant gash that had split the bottom in half, exposing your socks to the outside. "Fuck! Jimmy!"

The man in question popped his head up from where he was lying down, surveying the damage before biting the inside of his cheek in thought, scratching his chin.

"Uh… I don't think we've got any spares. Are… Are you okay with sharing or something? I mean, you know Karl, he'll probably be up all night so you can probably take his or share…?"

Dream didn't want to admit how horrible the thought of you leaving his tent to share with Karl was and how disgusting he felt as the jealousy grew in a pit of his stomach as he kept on thinking about it.

"Uh-" You looked down at the threads hanging out of the tear, shrugging your shoulders as you silently agreed. "I mean… as long as Karl's okay with it…? I don't mind."

"Great! Here, let me hel-"

"You can just share with me."

Dream's groggy voice cut off Jimmy's enthusiastic one, causing all of the tent to snap their head into his direction, as if you had forgotten he was there.

"That's fine, right?"

"Yeah!" You cried out a bit too eager, quickly coughing and changing your tone of voice to a more mellow one. "Yeah, that's fine."

"Oookay! That's actually better. A lot of people huddle close for heat here so let's see if you help Dream with that cold of his, eh?" Jimmy nodded, slipping his sleep mask back down his face and lying down, leaving you and Dream wide awake and staring at each other, Nolan having slipped into his bag during your awkward conversation.

"Here." Dream got up and tried his best to pull the sleeping bag open to make more space, waiting patiently for you to unzip your snow boots and put on some fuzzy socks you'd manage to snag in Chile before taking the plane.

"Thanks," You mumbled quietly, awkwardly moving to a side of the bag so Dream would be able to fit in next to you. "For holding it open. And uhm, for offering. I really didn't want to leave the tent, plus, with Karl, Sapnap and George I doubt I'd get any sleep."

Dream snorted in affirmation, aware of how dangerous they were when put together, and he couldn't even imagine how powerful they'd be when contained in such a small space. It was his turn to throw off his boots (not even bothering to unzip them first), and quickly shove himself into the bag next to you in hopes of keeping the warmth his feet had previously been in.

After a bit of shifting and moving limbs, you finally got into a comfortable position, your body draped over his side to preserve warmth with an arm wrapped around you waist with the other tracing random shapes into the arm that was sprawled across his chest, something he subconsciously did every time you were in his arms in such a position.

"This is nice." He mumbled, half joking, half serious.

"Mhm." You hummed, not trusting yourself enough to form proper sentences, carefully resting your head onto his shoulder and tickling his cheek with your hair.

A few moments passed in the same position, Dream's warm hand rubbing circles onto your waist in an attempt to soothe your nerves, knowing how stressed you probably felt without having to ask. You almost melted in his touch as he moved his head to rub his nose into your hair, closing his eyes with a sigh.

"It's impossible to sleep." He finally broke the silence with the muttered sentence, making you giggle and hide your face further into his shoulder.

"Don't you have an eye mask?" You mumbled from your spot, voice muffled by his shirt, feeling him shift beneath you until his hands left you to pull what you assumed was the eye mask down to his face.

"Forgot about it." He grumbled, warm hands finding their spot back onto your body and continuing their ministrations on your skin, lulling you quickly to sleep, feeling as if your head had been stuffed with cotton, tired enough to ignore everything around you, especially the quiet confession that came from Dream's lips and the soft kiss that was pressed to your forehead, leaving it to be a secret of the night.

You were woken up rather abruptly, the tent opening and Karl's high pitched laugh coming in along with the cold air, making everyone in the tent groan in discomfort and move beneath the covers to preserve the warmth, including you two, who during the night seemed to have moved into a different position, your face pressed right into Dream's chest with his chin resting on the crown of your head, his hands cupping the pudge of your thighs as they wrapped around his waist, thumb rubbing in circles like he had done last night with your waist, quickly soothing you back to sleep.

"I'm going to kill you, Karl!" Nolan shouted from his bag as the boy rolled into the tent, Sapnap following close behind with a disposable camera, not trusting his phone enough in such a weather.

"You got it?"

"Yep."

Sapnap made sure the flash was off, not wanting either of you to fully wake up and ruin the moment, before snapping a few pictures of Dream and you cuddled beneath the top layer of his sleeping bag, keeping their giggles and snickers to a low before leaving the tent with a nice reminder of what had happened beneath you.

"Told you it was smart to bring a knife." Sapnap pointed to your discarded sleeping bag with a grin before fully exiting the tent, not without letting in a gust of cold wind.

That seemed to finally snap you out of your sleep, groaning softly as you wriggled in Dream's arms, stopping in your tracks as he let out an incoherent grumble and brought you closer into his arms, as if you were a simple teddy bear and not his best friend who had totally overstepped a line by actually fucking wrapping her legs around his waist as if he were your boyfriend!

"Clay." You whispered as you faced him, moving a hand to push a few of his curls out of the way of his closed eyes and observe the freckles splattered across his skin like stars in the night sky, your finger tracing the short invisible lines between all of them. "Wake up…"

"Hmng…" His hold on you tightened for a moment before returning back to normal, his way of pleading for you to give up and slip back into his arms.

"Claaayy~" you said a bit louder, pressing your finger into the tip of his nose in hopes of getting him to wake faster. "Come on, we've still got a whole day left."

"Do you think I'm actually well enough to do something?" He finally spoke, and you almost jumped at how much worse his voice sounded than last night, but that was a given due to the cold and the mix between his already muzzy voice and the deep tone his morning voice normally took. "Just stay here with me for a while…"

"But I'm well enough to do something, Clay." You mumbled, letting your arm fall by your side and attempting once again to escape his grip, smiling softly as he didn't fight this time and let you slip out easily.

You didn't make any further effort to wake him up again, giving him the luxury of sleeping in a bit longer and getting yourself ready to leave the tent, despite how warm his hold had been and how you truly wanted nothing more than to slip right into his hold and wrap your arms around him.

But you fought the urge to, exiting the warmth of your tent and rushing towards where Karl and George were building a snowman (although it wasn't much of a snowman due to Karl slipping and falling onto it every few minutes.), and offering to assist them.

Ignoring the cold and the fact you didn't have anything to decorate the so-called snowmen with, you actually had fun with them, having said goodbye to Nolan and Jimmy before they left to "claim a mountain" a few hours ago; and you were now left with four snowmen without features, so they really couldn't be called snowmen at all.

"I think it looks pretty good!" Karl hummed as he finished rolling one of the bigger parts of his snowman.

"It's just three balls of snow on top of each other, Karl." George deadpanned as he moved his goggles to see the abominations you three had made.

"I think it looks a bit like you." You stuck your tongue out at George, who returned the gesture before the both of you realised how cold it was to be doing it and quickly returned your tongues back into your mouths.

After making some food and welcoming Jimmy and Nolan back, you spent some time with Dream outside (despite how much your body was screaming at you to get somewhere warm.), and threw a few snowballs at each other, last night's events never discussed or mentioned during your conversations.

You finally realised how much time you had spent outside when Chandler announced the plane would be here in almost two hours, the fact you'd spent almost a day in the freezing snow enough to frighten you into getting frostbite.

"If my fingers fall off I want you to have them, Dream." You confessed to him as you both worked on taking down your tent, giddiness filling you at the loud laugh he let out, nodding his head with a smile beneath his ski mask.

"Yes ma'am, I'll make sure to cherish them until I die." He teased back, shoving whatever remained of the tent into a bag and wrapping some of the rope around it, letting you admire for a moment how strong he truly was before Sapnap called you over to help him with the rubbish.

You didn't have much time to talk as Jimmy hurried you all back to where you had started, where the plane was waiting in all its glory, and holy shit you couldn't wait to be back inside.

You almost tripped on the stairs from how desperate you were to get inside if it weren't for Dream's hands holding you up from behind, knowing how excited you were to get back into the warm safety of the aircraft.

You collapsed into one of the window seats with a loud dramatic exhale, closing your eyes for a moment to enjoy the warmth of the leather chairs and the exaggerated smell of the air freshener that was wafting along the main cabin.

"Fucking finally, right?" Dream laughed after shoving both your luggage into the upper compartments, knowing you'd probably be too exhausted to do it yourself after barely catching any sleep in the last 24 hours, and falling into the empty seat next to you.

"I never thought I'd say this, but…" you turned to look at him dramatically, his heart beating rapidly at your serious expression and words until you spoke. "I actually miss Florida."

He breathed out a sigh of relief along with a laugh, nodding his head in agreement as he moved his hand to wrap around yours, heart fluttering as you didn't even stop him from doing so.

"I can't wait to wear some shorts and a tank top and still be hot." You mumbled with a smile, turning your head to a side to make eye contact with him. "Although it'll probably be a bit too cold for that."

"Yeah, you never know with Floridan winters." He snorted, interlacing your fingers with his and moving to look out the window. "As long as I'm out of this coat, I'll be fine."

It was your turn to laugh, nodding your head in affirmation, and shifting on the seat to rest your head on his shoulder, much like he had done when you had first entered the tent.

Silence filled your little corner of the plane until he finally spoke, turning to you completely and making you lose the balance you previously had.

"You uh… did you hear what I said? Last… uh, last last night?"

You cocked your head to a side like a confused puppy would, shaking your head, a no.

"Uh… well… Shit I'm really going to regret this." He breathed out as a laugh, raising his free hand to pull off his ski mask and ruffle up his curls. "I… I kind of, well… kissed your forehead. And said I- I love you."

Your brain short circuited at his words, blankly staring into his eyes as if your body had stopped just so your mind could make any sense of what he was saying.

"In a non-platonic way."

"In a non-platonic way." You parroted, blinking like a fool as you watched him panic underneath your gaze.

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"Oh."

Silence once again filled your little corner, both of your hands still intertwined and both your gazes locked together, Dream's whole body ready to give out if you didn't give him an answer soon.

"Please say somet-"

"I love you too." Your confession cut him off, his mouth hanging open with unsaid words ready to come out, looking something akin to a fish out of water gasping for air.

"O-Oh!" He breathed out, his body finally catching up to his brain as he nodded at your confession, cheeks pink from both embarrassment and illness. "Holy shit."

"Holy shit." You echoed once again, although this time you ended it with a small breathless giggle, raising your free hand to cup his cheek, stubble pricking your palm and cold skin meeting warm.

"I really want to kiss you right now." He confessed, half closed eyes searching for your gaze as his hand came up to cover yours over his cheek. "But I don't want to get you sick."

You smiled at his pout, shrugging your shoulders as you nodded down towards your fingers. "There's no way I'm not getting sick after that, Clay. It's fine. I want to kiss you too."

He nodded faster than the speed of light as you started to pull him down, pressing your lips to his for a moment that felt like eternity, and oh god, it was better than you imagined. It felt as if fireworks were going off in your head, sending shivers down your spine and lighting every nerve within you on fire, his breath against your lips as he pulled back from them almost burning your skin from how much you wanted to press them back onto his.

"Holy shit."

And by the sounds of it, you hadn't been the only one affected ridiculously by the kiss.

"Can we do that more often?" Dream basically vibrated in his seat at the prospect of being able to repeat that experience, his smile only growing when you nodded your head, a matching one pulling at your lips.

"Yes. Yes please."

[bokettochild]

if i may ask, for febuwump if u don’t mind, day 15 twilight asking “who did this to you” to a whumped legend? and then protective big brother mode activate

Oh boy, I had SO many ideas for this one! Apologies for it being (checks wrist only to realize I'm not wearing a watch) late? By....time? Anyways, here's some brotherly bonding! (And copious amounts of Twilight having friends because I can!)

Rating: Teen

Wordcount: 5,792

Summary: Being a big brotehr is stressful, and sometimes, Twilight just needs a break to go and be a person. When one of his brothers needs him most though, he's willing to drop everything. Although, in the end, it's not all bad.

(Warnings: References to alcohol and social drinking)

-

As a rule, Twilight loves his little brothers. 

No matter who it is or what they’ve done, or even how much they might drive him up the wall on any given day, he loves them all the same and will always be there for them. Still, he’s only a man. Sometimes, as much as he loves those who he’s found as family, he also wants to get away for a bit and be not just a big brother, but more. 

At Telma’s, he’s the hero, but he’s also the country boy who doesn’t know the city well yet. He’s the daredevil, because they've never met Wild or Warriors and they don’t know how much worse it really could be. To his friends, he’s the wild one, and for once, he’s not responsible for watching out for any of them. In fact, if he didn’t know any better, he’d guess they all feel the need to keep an eye on him. Ashei definitely does, all things considered, and Auru likely does as well. Considering he’s the youngest of the group though, son to one and young enough to be the child or grandchild of two others, it makes sense. 

So, naturally, after a long day on the road with the other heroes, one where Wild has been not quite a pain in his ass but definitely a challenge, no one can blame him from wanting to get away from the champion a bit. 

“It’s not that I don’t love the kid,” he tells the others, “But Ordonia’s Horns, does he try my patience some days.” 

“What did he do?” Ashei’s dark stare flicks over him, lips twitching in what, for her, is a greatly amused smile. “Climb up a freezing mountain without proper gear and nearly get killed?” 

His tankard hits the table harder than is really necessary, and he’s definitely not pouting as he stares back at her. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” 

She just blinks at him, face unchanging. 

Twilight sighs, running his free hand over his face and shaking his head at the same time. “No. He’s a smart kid, amazing at survival an’ he’d never make that kind of mistake. Well, not now.” Brows raise, but he quickly explains. “I’m sure near the start of his adventure he had to learn somehow, but as young as he is, he’s pretty exceptional in all things survival.” 

The familiar clucking of Shad’s tongue announces the arrival of the scholar, who drops without a care into the free seat beside him, smile loose and, to anyone else, haughty. Twilight knows that smile though, knows it means mischief, and he’s not wrong. “And yet we got stuck with you, when we could have had someone so capable!” 

Maybe, in the earlier days, he would have smacked the other for those words. In the early days he certainly would have wanted to, and he would have meant it too. Now, the urge to jostle him like he does with Warriors when the other teases him is still very much there, but he resists it. Shad may be close in height to the captain, but he’s not accustomed to taking blows, and a smack from the ranch hand may or may not actually leave him still sitting in his chair.  

Instead, he settles for knocking his boot against the man’s ankles, staring at him pointedly. “Yeah, I’d love to see him launch yer skinny ass up to the sky islands. Don’t know if you’d survive the trip though.” 

“But he’s a hero, saved a princess didn’t he? You expect me to believe he doesn’t know how to handle other living people?” 

He snorts. His understanding of the younger hero is filtered through uncanny dreams that, apparently, show him things that actually happen between them in the future, in the cub’s era, but even if he doesn’t hold them as memories of his own (not quite yet) he does know how Wild treats his princess. “I once saw him push his princess down a mountain, so...” 

“What?” Auru stares at him, and Twilight is abruptly reminded that their present company is not just people his own age who the shock factor works on, but also elders who might actually experience heart failure at some of the stories he could tell about his cub. “She was standin’ on a shield an’ they were doin’ this thing called shield surfin’. Worst she got was a face fulla snow when she skidded into a bank.” Somehow that doesn’t assure the elder very much. “She was laughin’ when we got her out, and she pushed herself down the next time.” He adds, watching Auru relax at least slightly at the words. 

“Well then, it’s clear they were doing it in good fun,” Shad answers. “He doesn’t sound so bad.” 

“Are you a princess?” He teases back. “Gee, Shad, I must have missed the tiara! Where you been keepin’ it?” 

Unlike himself, Shad takes no issue with smacking him for his jesting. Unfortunately for the scholar though, he can take a hit, and at worst it just feels like a slight stinging from the impact. Shad, on the other hand, cradles his hand like it’s been broken. 

Ashei shakes her head at the man, sipping from her tankard with a sigh. “You really should know better by now.” 

“I forget!” 

“You forget he’s a wall of muscle when you’re looking right at him?” Telma teases, waltzing over with a drink for Shad and offering a warm smile to all of them. 

Twilight takes the opportunity to flip the glasses of his friend’s nose. “You need a better pair of these if you’re that blind.” 

Shad squawks, fumbling for the fallen spectacles. It takes a moment, and his flailing almost ends up with them falling in his drink, but Ashei catches them neatly and offers them back. It's only when they're on the scholar’s face again that he turns to Twilight, huffing. “Why must you do that?” 

“Because I can.” 

And this is just what he means. He’s not the elder sibling here, he’s not in charge, he’s not the reliable one. To these people, he’s the young pup who beat Ganon, the country bumpkin up from Ordon who sees the city as a wonder and a giant. He’s just Link. 

Not that he resents his brothers for needing him. No, he’s glad to have a place and to know what’s expected of him, to be able to do something for them. Still, sometimes he doesn’t want to be the level-headed, well-behaved example for the younger ones to emulate. Sometimes, he wants to be as crazy as his protege. The problem is, he can’t do that with them watching, he can’t when doing so jeopardizes the trust Time has in him to help keep the younger ones in line and out of danger from their own crazy exploits. 

Here, he can be a bit crazy. Here, he can let loose. Here, no one can see him being a wild young man in his twenties. So, he enjoys it. He laughs and he teases and he and Shad go back and forth for the next hour or so with jabs and jests that have the others all rolling their eyes or sighing at them, stares heavy but not nearly as cold as they might appear to a onlooker. 

It’s a good night all told. By the time they’re all getting up to leave, Auru’s already gone home, and Telma’s getting a start on cleaning up the bar for closing. Shad’s had a bit too much, although not enough to leave him a babbling mess, just a tired one, and Twilight and Ashei are left to shoulder the scholar and haul him back to his own home. 

“I could haul him myself.”  

“I don’t doubt it,” Ashei hums from where she has Shad’s other arm around her shoulders, “but we’d never hear the end of it if he found out you princess carried him down the street like a maiden.” 

He sniffs. “If his pride’s that sens’tive, that’s his fault.” 

Her lips twitch into a little half smile. For Ashei, that’s the equivalent of a cackle. “It’s bad enough being seen with a country boy who could crush him, being treated like a woman as well hardly helps his masculinity.” 

“Again,” he chuckles, maybe slightly tipsy himself, “ain’t my fault he’s fragile.” 

Dark eyes slide to stare at him, but his friend says nothing ore on the matter. There's not much more time to say anything either, since Shad lives relatively close to the bar anyways, so getting him home is hardly a lengthily journey. Getting into his place to drop him off is a bit of a mess, as Twilight does have to support the scholar long enough for Ashei to pat him down for his keys, but once she’s got them and unlocked the door, he does take the chance to sweep the smaller man up in his rms and carry him through the door, even as the swordswoman watches while shaking her head.  

Once Shad’s laid in his bed, shoes off and tie loosened only because Ashei is a dear and not because of any kindness on Twilight’s part, they step back out into teh street together, pulling the once more locked door closed after them. 

“He’s going to be pissed.” 

He chuckles. “He can live with it.” 

A gauntleted arm nudges against his, protected against impact unlike the scholar’s hand, and much stronger too. “You say that because you’ll be gone by morning and don’t have to deal with it.” 

“You could be too,” he reminds her, “he’d never dare follow you up into the mountains.” 

This time, the rough nudge actually makes him stumble. Maybe he is tipsy. He’s about to protest at teh rough treatment, or tease, he’s not sure exactly what it is that’s on his lips because it slips away in an instant when a soft noise, a familiar sound that is his utter weakness, sounds on the flagstones of the alley not far from him.  

Ashei must see his ears prick up, face turning towards the sound, and she already knows, because one perfect brow raises with all the grace and authority of the captain. “Cat?” 

His moving feet are his only answer. 

She sighs. “Do you have to pet every one of those things that you see?” 

“Yes.” 

Despite her protests, she trails after him, watching as he peers around the alley, crouching low to find the fluffy creature. “I don’t understand why you like them so much. Aren’t you a wolf? Shouldn’t you prefer a dog’s company?” 

“I can enjoy both!” 

Ashei sniffs. “Dogs are better.”  

He turns to her, affronted and maybe, slightly offended. “They are not!” 

“You turn into a dog,” the words are flat, “shouldn’t you take that as a compliment?” 

“I’m not a dog,” he sniffs, “I turn into a wolf, and I’m still me under the fur, so it’s different anyways. Most dogs don’t act like that.” 

“You chase your tail.” 

“I had to learn to blend in so people wouldn’t suspect anything!” 

He doesn’t deign to meet the look that’s fixed on him, but he knows precisely what it is: brows raised, chin lowered, eyes flat and simply waiting for him to cave and admit she’s right. Uli pulls the same face on Rusl when he says something dumb, and he’s seen Telma do it too. He’d say it’s a woman thing, but he’s pretty sure he’s seen Warriors do it too, and Four as well, so saying that would be a very good way to get his ass kicked. Shad might be unable to do much damage, but Warriors can and has thrown his ass across the camp, and could probably do it again. 

Instead of saying anything, he keeps his eyes open, ears flickering about to catch any further hint of where the critter in the alley is hiding he thinks it’s a cat, but it was a muffled and very brief sound to begin with, so all he knows for sure is that it’s something small with paws. Crouching low and clucking his tongue softly usually draws them out, but this time there are no such results. He’s almost about to give up and accept that the sweet little thing had maybe slipped away already when Ashei’s hand catches his shoulder suddenly, grip firm. 

“What-” 

“Look,” her other hand points down at the flagstones underfoot, “blood.” 

Playfulness and excitement bleed away to a firmness he usually only takes on in battle, and he turns his attention to the spattering on the stone rather than the slight shuffling he’d thought before, although he doesn’t dismiss the noise either. “Fresh too.” 

Dark eyes meet his own, a silent question. 

Usually, he’s against using his crystal in public spaces, but it’s late eough at night, and in a seedy enough part of town that he doubts anyone’s lingering around the area to see, and if they are, they’re no good anyways. He shifts, fur and claws taking over in a now familiar twisting and aching. It doesn;t hurt anymore, no more than like stretching an unused muscle, and it only takes a moment to settle into the wolf’s body that’s as much his by this point as the hylian one he prefers. 

“I’ll follow you.” Ashei tells him, hand drifting to her hip and the sword hanging there.  

She’s ready for trouble, and he is too as he sets his nose to the ground and tries to follow the trail that is invisible to human eyes, but clear as day to him as it winds and twists around the small space they linger in. Whatever left the trail isn’t human, he knows that quickly. The scent trail springs off of walls and rubble in the streets in ways only the most skilled of fighters could achieve, and even then, likely not when injured. It’s fresh still though, like he said, so it’s not as though it fades out quickly, and it’s only a few minutes before he finds it’s end amidst some fallen crates around the corner. 

Something from within the pile of discarded containers shuffles, the same slipping of paws against stone, and rapid little breathes that sound in time with a pitter pattering heart. 

He shifts back. Wolf form is easier to use to track things, especially when his head is slightly fuzzy from alcohol, but for small animals, it’s not always the most welcome sight. A hylian with kind hands and gentle eyes is easier to accept in his experience. 

“Here?” Ashei asks, brows raised. 

He nods. “Not human.” 

She relaxes. He doesn’t. Animal death isn’t anything she worries about; she’s a warrior, a fighter, if the animals die, then they do. People are her priority. He, on the other hand, would prefer to avoid any unnecessary death if he can help it. Maybe it’s because he knows what it’s like to be on both sides of the matter, but unless strictly necessary, he doesn’t care to be a witness to or cause of death.  

Her hand slips from her sword and she stays back as he crouches low again, carefully shifting the crates and clucking softy. “Hey there, little ‘un. You okay?” 

The air seems to go still for a moment, and somehow, he knows his voice has made the creature freeze, but a moment later, as he shifts the boxes, wary lest they suddenly shift and crush the little injured thing, it seems to settle again, and the softest little questioning ‘mrrrp?’ sounds from within. 

“It’s okay,” he soothes, voice lowering, a soft rumble that rolls gently off his tongue and through his throat. Usually, it works on most animals, unless they have bad experiences with men specifically. Here, it seems to have the preferred result, and the softest brush of paws on stone touches his ears as he moves another crate. 

As the wood lifts away, he nearly drops it again at the sight that lies before him. 

“What’s wrong?” Ashei’s hand is moving to her sword again, likely as a result of the tension that’s jumped back into his shoulders, the way his ears have flicked back to press against his skull in horror. 

He doesn't answer her. Instead he’s all but throwing the crate away and reaching into the space between splintered wood. The motions are maybe too sudden, he reminds himself belatedly, for handling an injured creature, and the flinch away from his touch drives the point home. His heart wrenches somewhat at the way long ears press back and little paws stutter against stone, violet eyes squeezing shut in a wince. 

Two thoughts flicker in his head. How is Legend a rabbit, and what is he doing looking bleeding out in an alleyway as a rabbit? 

“Shhhh,” he tries to soothe, “it’s jist me, jist me, okay?” His eyes flicker over bloody pink fur to dark eyes that stare up at him, shining with a fear he’s never seen from the other before as a fluffy little chest rises and falls with breathes that would be dangerously fast for a hylian, but even for a small rodent are concerning. 

There’s a lot of blood, and he means a lot. 

“Who did this to you?” He can’t help the soft sigh in teh words, the almost coo. Small animals are most definitely his weakness, and small injured animals, even if they’re actually grouchy teenage boys, are definitely worse. His brother just looks so breakable and delicate, and the crimson matting fur together and staining the stone is just making his heart clench up even more as he reaches out. 

From behind, Ashei’s feet pad softly over, wary, but knowing her, she’d know he wouldn’t address anything threatening in that sort of voice. Still, she does recoil slightly, shock briefly flashing across her face as he manages to get a hold on his brother’s changed form, carefully lifting Legend up into his arms. “Is that a pink rabbit?” Her voice catches slightly, which is frankly impressive; she’s usually never so expressive. 

He nods, and while last time Legend had protested loudly at being picked up and handled like an actual rabbit, this time the animal form of his brotehr nestles down into his arms with a soft shudder, head resting on the crook of his arm even as wary eyes lift to stare at the swordswoman who’s likewise fixed on him.  

“What in Hylia’s-” 

“He’s hurt bad.” 

“It’s a rabbit in Castletown, are you shocked?” Reason seems to be slipping over to cover shock as she turns her eyes, flat once more, up to stare at him instead of the critter in his arms. “There’s dozens of dogs in this neighborhood, and while most have probably ever seen a rabbit before, they’re still hunters by nature.” 

The words twist in his gut. Not because he hadn’t realized; he’s changes into a wolf, he knows what sorts of urges come with the canine form, and while he might laugh it off, there’s still a part of him that, when in that form, lunges at the chance to chase small things, to get his teeth into them and shake them. He’s more man than beast of course, so he doesn’t really give into it unless he’s starving for food and a hunt is truly needed, but even then, there’s still part of him that recoils at his own actions. He’s been the one hunted before though, chased and tracked and lunged for by those who’d rather use his pelt to warm their families then let him so much as walk past them in the street. 

Still, as a wolf, he’s got teeth and claws to fight back, if he wanted to. The creature in his arms, his brother, doesn’t have that option. Legend's teeth and claws can barely draw blood, and by the time he’d gotten close enough to even try, a dog’s teeth would already be snapping around him before he could do anything. 

His arms tighten around the shivering form in his arms. In the back of his head, he can almost hear Uli, back when he was a kid still new to Ordon, still new to trees and animals and anything that wasn’t sand and swords. He shouldn't scare little things, ever, she’d told him. She’d been holding a rabbit in her arms, one she’d somehow managed to catch while they were out having a picnic in the fields with him. He’d been in wonder of the glossy fur and tiny paws, but moving too fast, too harsh, and it was hiding it’s head in her arms to avoid him. ‘They’re not made to handle scary things,” she’d murmured to himself and an equally awed Colin, who was only three at the time. ‘their little hearts might explode if you scare them too much.’ 

It’s slightly an irrational fear, considering Legend isn’t actually a rabbit, just transformed into one, but the words still ring in his head as he cradles the broken little body in his hold. 

Ashei’s stare is blank as it turns back to his little charge, lips twitching downwards briefly. “You’d be better off putting it out of its misery, Link. It can’t survive here, and you can’t take it with you.” 

The very idea makes his stomach, heart skipping up into his throat as he recoils from his friend, body shifting by instinct alone to shield his little brother from her cold stare and colder words. “No!” 

“Link...” 

“He’s not just a rabbit!” 

“How much were you drinking?” 

The implication hurts a bit. He can hold his alcohol better than that, and he hadn’t had very much at all. He knows better! He knows Sky would have words for him if he came back drunk, especially after the trouble they’ve been having with keeping certain heroes sober. “No, I’m serious! He's....” the words slip outr of his head for a moment as he turns his gaze down to dark eyes that are squeezed closed in pain. “He’s...” 

“I’m not a rabbit.” 

He’s never seen Ashei’s eyes widen that much in his life, nor her move so quickly, sword half drawn and feet scrabbling back in shock at the fact that rabbit in his arms just spoke. 

“He’s like me,” he tries, soothing one hand down blood matted fur, and realizing at the same time that he should probably do something about the damage done to the vet.  

“A shifter?” 

“A hero,” he corrects, attention now on finding the source of the blood. “And yes, he transforms when exposed to dark magic.” 

“Can he turn back on his own?” She moves closer, apparently assured by his words, even though her eyes are still fixed on the pink rabbit that can talk, likely wondering how much more insane her night is going to get. 

Twilight shakes his head. “Not without a source of light magic.” 

“But you-” 

“I have control over the crystal, and practice. He’s...different.” 

There, he’s found it, the source of the blood. His heart twists up more, somehow, when he identifies the familiar marks left by sharp teeth. It could be his own work if it was a size or two bigger, and that particular thought has his stomach lurching yet again. There’s more bites than one too, and one paw seems to have been crushed, hanging oddly and when he jostles it there’s a bitten off cry of pain from his brother’s altered form. 

“He doesn’t look good.” Ashei states grimly, ow crouched at his side and staring intently at the injuries and violet eyes that squeeze closed as rapid little breathes shake the tiny body in his hold. 

She’s right. “Is there some sorta animal doc ‘round here?” 

Raised brows. “We aren’t a country town, Link.” 

“But even city folk have horses and shit, right?” 

Ashei frowns, gaze slipping free of his own. “Horses, yes, but smaller creatures-” 

“What about Agitha?” 

A flat look. “She’s a child, and her interest is insects.” 

“Small beings that she believes are magic,” he corrects, already shifting to his feet, cradling the fluffy form in his arms with all the care he’d use with Uli’s littlest. Legend doesn’t protest the movements either, although that might just be because he’s in too much pain to do so. “A talking pink rabbit is going to make her night.” 

Following his lead, the swordswoman stands, dusting herself off with a little sigh. “It’s worth a shot, I suppose.” 

The path to the self-proclaimed princess’s house is a short one, which is the main cause of his choice to see her, that and, like he said, her love of small magical beings. A rabbit and a butterfly are very, very different, but he’s counting on the quirky nature of the girl to overrule that logic like it does with most things. Sure, putting his hopes on a twelve-year-old with questionable logic isn’t maybe the best choice he’s made in his life, but considering he took the advice of a warrior killed in battle on how to beat Gannon, no one can exactly argue that his logic is sound either. 

If anything, Agitha is awake, and when Ashei knocks at the door, it swings open quickly, revealing swinging pigtails and a bright smile that’s just slightly off-putting. “Ah, brave knight! You’ve returned!” 

The look Ashei levels him with could probably kill a lesser man. 

The bug princess swings the door open wide, smile even wider as she cocks her head on one side. “Welcome! The Princess of Bigs is happy to let you enter her kingdom!” 

“Thank you,” he bows his head slightly. The best course of action here is to play along. He’s not sure why Agitha is like this, but going along with her game doesn't hurt anyone, even if it used to drive Midna crazy. Still, she’s a kid, and he’s used to kids, good with them too. “I come seeking the princess’s help.” 

“A knight needing help from a princess? How queer!” She giggles into her hand, but then stops. It’s like her whole person stalls for a moment, eyes falling on the bundle of pink in his arms. “Oh my, what’s this you’ve brought here?” 

He exchanges a look with Ashei, and in return, she just stares. 

“This is an enchanted warrior,” he tells the girl, “he’s been cursed into this form, and injured badly. We thought, since you are princess of the creatures of the small kingdoms, that maybe you might be able to aid him, even if he isn’t one of your subjects.” 

He can feel the groan building up from his companion, but she doesn’t release it, thankfully. Agitha probably wouldn’t notice if she had though, gliding forwards slowly with features pinched up into an honestly adorable pout. “Oh, the poor, poor little warrior!” She coos. “Yes, I am not princess of the mammal world, but I do not have a heart of stone. Here,” her arms are thrust out, open and waiting, “allow the Princess to help him!” 

He’s more hesitant than he’d like when handing over the vet’s beaten form, but Agitha handles him with surprising care, shushing and cooing as she strokes back long ears, whisking around to head off deeper into the room. Twilight trails after, leaving Ashei at the door, as the woman does not appear to be at all interested in plunging further into the insect castle. He’s cautious with where he puts his feet and keeps his distance, also wary of his surroundings. Meanwhile, Agitha lays the vet’s rabbit form on a tabletop and, with quick kiss to the brow that would be very ill advised considering the blood there, she darts off to grab something from one of the many nooks and crannies about the room. 

It’s honestly impressive, considering her age and the general doubts he has for her sanity, how efficient the insect princess handles the injuries presented to her. She shows little worry for the blood that gets on her dress and many accessories, humming softly to herself as she set bones with ease that’s almost scary and binds up wounds with care that he’d almost mistake for the skill of an actual healer. Once she’s done though, she’s scooping up Legend’s little body and settling him back in Twilight’s arms, a smile on her face as she winks up at him, one finger pressed to her cheek with a coy little smile 

 “Lucky for you, Mister Captain Hero taught me a thing or two on treating wounds! He’s all fixed now! Make sure to let him rest and give him lots too eat, okay? And lots of pets!” She claps her now blood stained hands, smile still shining. “He’s such a darling thing! He deserves all the pets in the world! Oh, I wish you could pet bugs, but there’s so little of them to pet, and butterflies die if you pet them...” 

His smile is stilted, but he manages to bob his head in thanks all the same. “Thank you, princess.” 

“Of course, brave knight,” he’s answered with a charming smile and a little curtsy, one that leaves bloody fingerprints on pink skirts. “If ever you find another such wounded warrior of the magical world, do bring them here. Princess Agitha will take care of them!” 

Ashei hurries them out the door before ‘Princess Agitha’ can say much more than that. Honestly, he’s thankful. She’s not a bd kid, but she’s kind of off-putting if he’s being honest. Legend’s face buried in his arms indicates that he too finds the girl somewhat off-putting, even if he hadn’t spoken at all since they alley. 

“That child is insane.” Ashei pronounces once they’re safely away again. 

It’s strained, but he finds himself laughing slightly, hand dragging over long ears as he walks and resisting, strongly, the urge to rub his face into long fur. “Yeah, prob’bly.” 

A side glance is fixed on him, feet not stopping on the well known path back past the bar. “Will you be going back to your inn now?” 

He nods, glancing down to find Legend is staring up at him as well, gaze hazy from either pain or exhaustion, he’s not sure. “Yeah. It’s pretty late, an’ i still need to get him changed back before the others realize he’s missin’.” And then, as an after thought, he adds, “I know the way back.” 

“You had a bit to drink.” 

“Ashei,” he laughs, strained, “no one’s gonna try anything on swordsman wearing wolf’s pelt, not if they have an ounce of sense! ‘Sides, it’s not far off.” 

Her stare is heavy. 

“I’m fine. If anythin’ as the man here, I ought to be offerin’ to walk you home!” 

Weight is nothing in comparison to the sharpness in those eyes. “Watch it, Ordon.” 

“Yes, miss.” 

She shakes her head, dark hair somehow not so much as swishing with the motion. “Have a good night.” And then she’s heading off, not even bothering to wait around for his echo of her farewell and instead disappearing around a corner up ahead, pace faster than his own as he tries to keep steady and not jostle the brother in his hold. With her gone though, it’s just Legend and himself, violet eyes truned up to stare blearily up at him. 

“We are gonn talk about this later,” he warns, even as he sets off towards the inn again. 

Legend shifts, ears flicking slightly in answer, but he doesn’t talk. If anything, the rabbit in his arms curls in tighter, defensive.  

“I’m not mad,” he’s quick to assure, foddling long ears gently, “but you scared me there, vet.” 

Still no answer. He resigns himself to silence as his feet carry the two of them down the mostly quiet streets of Castletown and back to the inn, one hand still running through silky fur, careful not to catch on where it’s still matted with blood.  

“Here’s hoping Sky doesn’t have our heads for wakin’ him.” He sighs as they come to the door, and he has to stop his petting of pink fur to push it open. “Hopefully the rest are also asleep, cuz I ain’t got an answer for any of this.” 

The rabbit in his arms snorts, but th head that’s been lolling into the crook of his arm raises to butt against him gently. It startles him. 

So many years ago, Uli said that was how rabbits indicate affection, or ask for more pets. Good grief, how out of it is Legend: Mister-Don't-Touch-Me-I-Will-Bite-You? There’s no way to know though, but he doesn't look a gift bunny in the mouth, and he’s only too happy to continue his petting as he takes the stairs up to their room, nodding briefly to the wide eyed inn-keeper as he goes. 

Tomorrow, he will have to ask Legend what happened. Tomorrow, he will have to adopt being a good, responsile big brotehr who gets to the bottom of things, but for tonight, he’s simply content to try and turn his brother back to a hylian, get a potion down his throat, and head to bed, leaving the adult stuff to future Twilight. That’s easy enough too. Sky has questions, but is too tired to slur through them, and while feeding the vet a potion is hard with the other slumping against him so heavily, but they manage. They manage and then he’s slumping himself back into the bed left open for him. He sort of expects Legend to slip away after, but belatedly, he realizes that’s just impossible. Maybe it was the petting, since he’s been there and he gets how much it turns his muscles into jelly, but pink hair hits his chest the moment his back has settled into the mattress, and the hand that catches in the front of his tunic further cements that Legend isn’t going anywhere. 

Ah well, if Legend’s going to take up space in his bed, he reserves the right to keep running his hands through fluffy pink. If Legend doesn’t tell him to stop, he won’t. The vet doesn’t eitehr, just hums softly, curling in on himself and nestling into his side with a soft sigh that would almost, almost fool him into thinking his brother was still in his beast form. 

Tomorrow will be interesting. Explaining the blood on their clothes, where they’d been, and all else won’t be fun. But for tonight they can have a little more peace. The scare is over, and Twilight’s free for just a little bit more. And hey, the brief panic was worth it, especially considering he’s getting cuddles out of the deal! 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for lying to my parents about quitting pot?

So weed is legal where we live, and I (22f) started smoking it when I hit legal age. I have suffered from chronic pain for pretty much as long as I can remember (insert joke about weed worsening memory) and though it typically ranges from mild to moderate, with exertion it can get severe. I couldn't do sports as a kid, field trips and some gym classes and even intense play would often end up with me unable to go to school the next day and still feeling worse for wear for up to a month afterwards. I've been to multiple doctors and had all sorts of tests done, as much as possible being not exactly wealthy, just to find nothing. I've tried hard to manage it in various ways; mindfullness and meditation, hot water bottles and heating pads, even essential oils and herbal concoctions, and of course over the counter painkillers. I've found these things to mostly only really help when the pain is low moderate to mild. As time has gone on it seems to be getting worse, but that might just be because kids are more resilient. I missed out on mostly everything that wasn't necessary in highschool because it was too taxing, even hanging out with friends. Now I've been living on my own since I turned 18, mostly with money that my parents put aside for me for the first few years, and finishing my schooling from home. But that money is now running out, so I have to work. Thing is, work that I can do from home has been near hard to find, at least anything long term. So I'm stuck doing the kind of jobs that exacerbate my pain, I'm in worse pain more often. But I've still been seeing doctors and they still say there's nothing and my doctor won't even consider prescribing me anything until it gets way, way worse. I'm also aware that anything I could get prescribed would be above my means anyway, and my parents wouldn't pay for it. So that's around when I started smoking weed. I did research and talked to my parents beforehand about it and explained why, and my mom (43f) didn't care, while my dad (45m) made me agree to only use it once in a while when my pain gets severe, only buy it with money I earned and never go out in public stoned. And for a while, I did everything like I agreed to. Don't get me wrong, the weed doesn't make the chronic pain go away, but it helps keep it manageable. I can actually work 2 days in a row. But now I smoke daily, sometimes even when my pain is moderate. My dad found out about this and demanded I completely quit or else he'll disown me. So I promised I would, and have been pretending that I have.

What are these acronyms?

[soimcoga]

"every major baddie problem in the lmk universe is caused by SWK not dealing with his shit properly"

exept he dealt with all the shit and i'm tired of people ignoring it to paint him as an ignorant, uncaring bastard.

(very very minor s4 spoilers, so the cut)

Demon Bull King? Got his ass whooped and was sealed away for however long years it took for an entire ass megapolis to be built literally on top of him, causing absolutely no trouble to anyone whatsoever. Oh, and what sealed DBK? The staff. And if you'd care to know SWK outside of the LEGOverse, you'd realize how strong was SWK's resolve to seal DBK - keep him relatively safe, one might say - by using his trusty staff. The guy would literally die seven times over than let go of this thing.

Also people like, ignore the fact that canonically SWK stuck around the area (for the most part to stalk MK, but still), so he was literally there to deal with the DBK family if something went southwards? He didn't, because MK was able to hold the staff and the legend of the Monkie Kid then began.

(also zero antagonistic feelings towards DBK from SWK, like, whatsoever. i bet the dude actually wanted DBK to be free, cuz he felt bad abt it)

Macaque? In a morally gray manner, still very dealt with. SWK killed the dude. He was literally as dealt with as it can be. Or what, should SWK have predicted that after thousand upon thousand of years later a spirit (he dealt with too) would pull Mac out of Diyu? Yeah, I'd like to see that thought process.

SWK isn't omnipotent, he isn't even that far-thinking. Never was, actually. So holding that against him is like, very stupid. Especially because you don't do it to any other character in the show. 

Spider Queen? Wouldja look at that, also pretty much dealt with. We don't really know how exactly, but we know that she lost literally every ounce of power she had and had to resort to living in the sewers, prolly never to cause troubles ever again because, well, we never even heard of her until the special. SQ was pulled onto the scene by the Lady Bone Demon.

Which is, again, something SWK couldn't predict even if he tried.

And now into the fun part.

Lady Bone Demon? Was sealed away by Tripitaka and also didn't cause any trouble until DBK decided to use this freaky coffin he knew literally zero things about for his plans.

"But he should've killed LBD!!!"

He tried. Believe him he tried. This decision just wasn't his, and if you hold it against him and not Tripitaka, shame on you.

"He should have told the crew about LBD!"

He really couldn't have.

And people thinking that are blatantly ignoring SWK's character. Not that obnoxious fan favorite uncaring bastard one.

SWK deals with things on his own. That is just how he is, how he always was and he never learned to do it the other way around. If that's a fight, he'll do it, because he's damn strong. If it's to scout the mountain, he'll do it, because Bajie is a lazy ass motherfucker. If it's to find food for Trip, he'll do it, cuz he's fast and his eyes are awesome.

Same applies here.

LBD? Tried to kill her and Trip didn't let me -> Basically I didn't do the job right -> WTF I always do my job right, I am Sun Wukong hello???

It was, dare I say, a question to his pride, and SWK will forever be prideful. And when he acts on his pride, he does it with style and flare, in the most stupid way possible.

Hence all of the s2 off-screen investigation arc.

"Well, he should've told about the Samadhi rings!"

It would've endangered Mei, questioned his at this point in time very shaky authority and ability to handle shit, and prolly would've fucked Mei up a very whole lot.

You don't go and say to a person that they are a part of the most dangerous seal in the world and could die and destroy everything they love because you fucked up long time ago (again, very much jabbing at his mentality of 'Sun Wukong can do no bad job, and if he does he'll better fucking die trying to make it right').

Was his plan a shitty one? Obviously. Like, no question asked, it was a shit show of a plan. Very in character, though (SWK handles all the shit because he thinks he can).

And this little character arc of SWK not learning a damn thing results in him, oh golly you would not believe it, running off to do things on his own because he thinks he can handle it, because he's THE Sun Wukong who already handled this in the past.

Who woulda thought.

MINOR S4 SPOILERS START HERE

And the new addition to the baddie group, Azure Lion. Won't be addressing all 'SWK is a betraying bitch' because the show refuses to give us SWK's perspective and I hate it.

But you already know what I will say, because you know the truth. He was dealt with. Got his ass whooped and sealed away in the inky scroll. To be pulled back onto the scene by a third party that Wukong literally couldn't have known about.

See a pattern?

SWK deals with the shit, some unknown variable meddles in it, suddenly SWK is an incapable asshole who left the problems for the poor lmk crew to deal with.

MINOR S4 SPOILERS END HERE

Wukong did his job. Someone fucked him over by undoing his job. He tried to deal with it again the only way he knows how, but the solo play doesn't fly anymore, so he made it kinda worse.

He's not an unbearable, incapable asshole because of it.

And I'm tired of people not seeing this.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk, I am Sun Wukong Apologist till the day I die.

Have a nice day!

[sapphia]

so recently, scar has gotten good at minecraft. like, really good. if you watch his old stuff, it doesn't take much to see that scar's strengths generally used to lie outside of the actual, run-around-without-dying-especially-on-a-pvp-server level of play. and that's fine, it wasn't his jig, and the people he's playing with really are very good and very experienced at this sort of play. so it never needed to be something that scar was good at because his fanbase mostly watched him for other reasons, so that just wasn't something he needed to be able to do.

but for a while now, especially noticeable over the life series, he's been rapidly improving at the sorts of particular skills that the life smp server values (and also certain skillsets involved in MCC, too). The water bucket clutches spring to mind, as well as the hot-guy stuff that make him such a lethal force with a bow. (It's honestly a shame that life smp doesn't have elytra -- he regularly one-shots people from the air on hermitcraft, and it's a fantastic bit.)

And it's just so good to see because like... he didn't have to go and do that! he went and practiced those skills, and got good at them, and then came and showed them off. and it was awesome, but also he made it so creative and entertaining, and he really didn't have to do any of it at all if he hadn't wanted to. people don't play on life smp because they're good at the technical elements of the game. more than anyone else, scar's particular shenanigans and the energy he brings to the server are what make him a great fit for the series. there are plenty of players on life smp who aren't great PVPers but who get by on politicking, or scheming, or storytelling, or just generally being a good time to be around, and each of them makes the smp tick and are valuable in their own way.

not to mention that life smp is made up of such a wonderful group of human beings that they'll do whatever it takes for you to fit in. to make your thing, and your particular energy and abilities, a part of of the series. to make it that you aren't hampered by your abilities and handicaps, whatever they may be. when skizz dies early on to some early misfortune in limited life, people are pretty clearly aware that he's one of the weaker players and it might impede his ability to have a full series. but don't worry, because half the server are tripping over themselves to give him their time and lives and totems and to swear undying oaths of fealty to protect him at all costs. grian, martyn, tango, literally every one of the ties - not to mention everyone who stood around and watched as skizz killed tango - all are working together and giving up things, valuable things, to make sure this one player gets to keep time on the server, and therefore time on the series, just because that's who they are. that's what the server is. friends, playing together.

i'm sure that's also why grain stuck with scar in the first series: to make it fair. they want everyone to have a good time. To be able to do their own thing, whatever that thing is you bring to the server, be it your insane PVP skills or trying to scam players by selling them magic crystals.

which is a long way of saying: scar was under no obligation whatsoever to get good at these player-skill-based elements of minecraft. but it's wonderful that he did! he really said, "look, i know you all think i'm a walking disaster, but i need you to know, it's not because i'm bad at the game. it's because i'm me." and then he went and got crazy good at archery (well, okay, crazy good at one very specific archery move, but also pretty damn good at shooting things overall! and at flying!) and he started parkouring around a bunch and now he's mastered waterbucket clutches (and what a fucking display he got to show off in double life, too) and just all around Got Good at the things that he wasn't previously that good at.

and the best thing was that he's still such an irreverent force of chaos that it hasn't even mattered. he's still just as lethal to himself through his own terrible decisions and random lack of awareness or foresight. or even just his own desire to fun, no matter what. the man really went into a hardcore server and said alright, i'm gonna build my base up high enough to definitely kill me, and also make it out of trap doors, and oh grians here, oops i'm sure that won't go wrong. and then he went and died to his elytra failing. that's just the most scar thing I've ever seen. you can't even fault him because grain also died on that server. only joel properly made 100 hours and there's no surprises there, joel is insanely good. so its no mark against scar that he died. but how he plays it, it's just so him.

and you wouldn't have it any other way because this is why we watch him. he's entertaining because he's totally unpredictable and also predictable and good and bad and competent and incompetent all at the same time. he will waterbucket-clutch INTO an impossible situation to save a bunch of useless pandas that were almost definitely going to die and he'll get away with it. and then also he will die by setting off a trap he's trying to very obviously lure others into. yes also he fell into a pit of zombies, what of it? it's just scar and his wacky hijinks. will he die? lets find out!

scar really said the only thing holding me back is me, and then proved it.

[mazeinthemiroh]

So I'm currently stuck in the airport due to weather delays (and have been for the last two hours L.O.L. 🙃). How would the members of Stray Kids handle this situation/help pass the time?

stray kids waiting for their plane

genre: general

warnings: not proofread

a/n: sorry ✈️ anon this should've been done first out of all your requests but hey-ho, here ya go

bangchan

you can't tell me this man is going to do anything other than sleep

like.... oh my plane has been delayed? okay then, wake me up in 3 hours ig...

that's so him

he's got his travel pillow wrapped around his neck already so he can pretty much fall asleep at any given point if he feels like it

so who's gonna stop him?? cos i ain't???

minho

he will go on a little walk around the airport

grabs a good ol' starbucks frappuccino and goes about his business, gazing around the shops for nothing in particular

might get some cute little gifts for his friends or his cats while he's at it

but overall he's just walking around like the model he is, probably stealing a few people's hearts in the process

like you can't tell me he won't be your airport crush if you saw him in that setting fr

changbin

gets a meal for himself because he's been waiting so long and he still isn't on the plane yet??

ain't no way he's paying for that overpriced stuff of the plane, nuh-uh

so he gets a takeaway and likely spends the rest of his time on his phone, texting someone and ranting about his delayed flight on the internet

but overall his mind is preoccupied. he keeps checking to see if it's finally time for his departure after waiting so long

hyunjin

might just whip out his sketchbook and start drawing the pretty people he sees when waiting in the seating area

either that or he's hititng th eshops

and it's not like he needs any new stuff, but he ends up buying new clothes and accessories for his trip just because he can

and honestly, i don't blame him. it's a bit of fun!

might also buy a book, for good measure

jisung

another sleeper

he's already done. like he doesn't wanna be there and is frustrated that he has to wait more time for his plane to arrive

so he might have a little snooze if he can

either that or he's popping his headphones on and walking around, seeing if there is anything that could possibly peak his interest while he waits for his plane

felix

plays game son his phone most of the time

i mean

he's got enough games on there to last him the whole day anyway so why not put them to good use!

but if he gets that bordd he might do a lil shopping spree, definitely getting some sort of croissant or other baked good to keep him going

i also see him buying little knick-knacks and gifts for people because my boy loves giving <3

seungmin

he's got a few books packed, so he might grab one and dig into it while he waits for the plane

but if the book isn't grabbing him, he might go for a walk around the airport, earphones in as he window-shops with no intention to buy anything

he is also a keen people-watcher, which is a great habit to have at the airport because there is so many different people from every walks of life. it's safe to say he's going to have fun observing people and lowkey judging them lmao

jeongin

hits all the shops

and the food hall of course

to pass the time, he wants to eat different types of food

1, because he's hungry. 2, because he's bored. but 3, he thinks that if he fills up on food that when he does get on the plane, he if more likely to fall asleep, making his plane ride ultimately more quicker. that's pretty smart tbh

[my-supernatural-rewatch]

Episode Five: Bloody Mary

Dean Winchester in the Supernatural episode Bloody Mary

Never one of my favorites but on this rewatch I realized it's actually pretty damn scary.

A child's game of Bloody Mary unleashes the vengeful spirit of a woman who travels through mirrors and seeks revenge on those with guilty secrets.

This one will probably not be that long either.

Right out the gate, we get concerned Dean who wants to talk about Sam and all the bad dreams he's having. Sam isn't very forthcoming. Big surprise.

I know we get a lot of "no chick flick moments" and all from Dean in the dialogue. But we also get Dean consistently saying to Sam basically "LET'S TALK ABOU THIS" so the narrative that Dean doens't like to talk about his or anyone else's feelings is already dispelled within the first five episodes of the first season yet it stuck to Dean for the entire series.

Make it make sense.

Right here is where I'm going to remind anyone who might come across this and decide to read it that I am not writing full synposes of the episodes so if you haven't actually seen the episodes there's a good chance you will be lost reading these posts if you're looking for any semblance of a plotline. This is definitely one of those posts that will completely confuse you if you don't know the episode. Sorry/not sorry.

I'm wondering if this is the only episode where we see the brothers bribe someone? It probalby isn't but at least it's the first. Sam bribes the coroner's assistant with money Dean won in a poker game.

Which gives us more of Sam trying to take the moral highground when Dean complains that it's HIS money by dismissing it becuase Dean won it playing poker. As if that isn't working for the money.

Christ, Sam.

Also on Sam: Yet another episode where he changes his voice when talking to the family of the victim so he sounds more sympathetic. How did ai never notice this before?

Cute brothers moment in the bathroom when they're both standing in front of the mirror talking about Bloody Mary and both refuse to say the words.

Okay, an important plot point: Bloody Mary only kills people with a terrible secret that they're absorbed with guilt over. Spoiler: Sam feels guility because he had dreams of Jessica on the ceiling burning for days before she died and he not only didn't warn her but he also took the fuck off with his brother to find their missing father who isn't really fucking missing. (Hey, does this mean we can pin Jessica's death on John?)

Another Dean myth dispelled in this episode is his intelligence. I mean they already pretty much have shown us Dean's no dunce, but in this ep he spends a LOT of time doing research, absorbing the material, and explaining things. And in one scene, he decides to do a national search for dead women fitting Bloody Mary's profile, against Sam's judgement...and THAT is how they figure out who she is.

Check out the big brain on Dean, motherfuckers!

They drive from Toledo, Ohio to Ft. Wayne, Indiana, and back to interview someone, and my geography knowledge is so limited that I had to Google how long that would take. In one of what I would guess is one of their shorter trips, it's only about 3 hours round-trip. (THESE are the things I'm thinking about while watching the show?)

The name of this week's damsel in distress is...Charlie. I get there were over 300 episodes of this show but it drives me nuts how often they re-use names. (Amelia anyone?) Anyway...

Using his patented compassion and soft looks Dean's the one who gets Charlie to admit the thing she's guilty about (a troubled boyfriend who threatend to kill himself if she left him and then who DID kill himself after she responded "Go ahead").

In the Impala, the brothers are discussing how to call out the spirit and Sam says he has the guilt so he'll do the summoning. Dean has had enough of his emo, fatalistic bullshit so he stops the car and tells Sam to fess up his secret for fuck's sake.

Dean's concerns are that the spirit will kill Sam, and he reminds Sam that it isn't his fault that Jessica died. Someone should tell Dean we've decided it's John's fault because what does Dean say?

"Why don't you take a swing at ME? I'm the one who dragged you away from her in the first place."

Setting up a decades-long argument among SPN fans who think Sam made his own decision because he wanted to go back to hunting and those who blame Dean for goddamn everything.

To be fair to Sam, his response is, "I don't blame you."

Thanks for that, Sammy. (That's from me, not Dean.)

Dean really doesn't want Sam to call out the spirit but Sam is damned and determined to. It feels less like he's doing it to save poor first Charlie and more like he's doing it because he feels like he shoudl be punished for what he did (or really in this case didn't) do.

And thus begins the storyline of emo Sam feels guilty about everything that isn't his fault for the next two seasons culminating in Dean going to hell...

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Inside the antique shop where Mary's mirror is supposed to be, Sam is trying to call her out while Dean goes outside to talk to the cops who have shown up since someone is mucking about in the shop. When he can't convince the cops that he is the adopted son of Mr. Yamashiro, Dean knocks both cops out.

How often has Dean (or Sam) done this? I feel like not often.

We're also on a steady stream of slowly showing how well Dean can handle himself in a fight and I'm here for it.

Hey back to smart Dean (and skipping over pretty much the rest of the story): He breaks the first mirror that Mary appears in when she seems to have Sam in his trance and it gets Sam out of his trance, but it doesn't kill her. She shows up again and Dean...not Sam, Dean, gets the idea to hold another mirror up to her...and she kills herself when she looks in it.

Dean is a smarty. Stop telling me he isn't.

But not that smart...this time he only gets a handshake from the woman he saved...not even a kiss on the cheek. Oh well, Dean. Better luck next time.

We end the episode with Dean asking Sam what it is he feels guilty about...what his secret is, and Sam says this:

"Look...you're my brother and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself."

Two things: Sam telling Dean he'd die for him is kind of huge. Up until now, he's been acting like Dean is an inconvenience. So I loved hearing that. But, again, we get Sam not opening up to Dean about his secret...and yet fandom lore is that Dean is the one who always refuses to open up.

Some notes for posterity:

The significant music from this episode comes from Def Leppard -Rock of Ages (the first but not the last time we hear this one!), Fall Out Boy - Sugar, We're Goin Down, and The Rolling Stones - Laugh, I Nearly Died.

The brothers pose as medical students from Ohio State but don’t give out their names. When they introduce themselves to the first victim's family, they give their first names and say they worked with the victim. When Dean is talking with the police he tells them he's the adopted son of Mr. Yamashiro.

This hunt takes place in Toledo, Ohio, and they take a trip to Fort Wayne, Indiana.

Dean wears John’s jacket in this episode.

[kreideprinz69]

pls talk more about nagito regretting what he did to Hajime in chapt. four I also am totally normal about that. Nagito is such an interesting rival, because he doesn't HATE Hajime, but I think what he has issue with are his own feelings.

i would absolutely love to do so!

someone else made a really good analysis about nagito showing remorse for how he treated hajime, but i for the life of me cannot find it again and i've been searching for a hot minute. </3 i'll come back and link it if i'm able to find it later!

okay, so i believe a good starting place for this is taking a trip back towards the beginning of chapter 5, where nagito visits hajime in his cottage after hearing about the plan to detain him again. now as a refresher; supposedly he's there because he want's to make sure hajime comes to the hotel so he can see the whole bombing incident. he basically tells hajime that he knows about their plan, and wants hajime to come to the hotel too because he has business with everyone.

which i would just briefly like to mention, that with the way he talks it feels like he's a bit hesitant to ask hajime to come. though i might just be reading into it a bit much, however i think it's an interesting idea to consider here. his follow up is the part of the whole scene that stuck out to me though,

i consider nagito to be a very truthful person, at least in the sense that what he says is true, just maybe not in the way you think. so with the way he's talking in the above screenshots, i think he's fully serious in telling hajime not to take him so seriously. it sort of implies that he has eased up somewhat on being angry at hajime for the reserve course drama. at this point, nagito already has his death planned out too, so he's fully aware he's not going to have any more conversations with hajime. which is why-

this line sticks out to me. it's always felt out of place to me, just sort of a random thing to reflect on. but knowing that nagito is aware of his limited time, i started to see this line as nagito reflecting on his time with hajime. which seems to be in a fond regard.

this line too, from the video after the trial. which is pretty straightforward in his regret.

so yeah, just kind of piecing all of these things together, i do feel like nagito feels remorse for the way he treated hajime in chapter 4. it's notable that he wasn't attacking hajime as much during their interactions in chapter 5, compared to chapter 4. i could be reading into these interactions a bit too much, but either way i feel like it's clear there's at the very least a little guilt on nagito's part.

also to add on to the last part of your statement; nagito 10000% has issues with his own feelings, and there's no way he hates hajime, in fact that's why he struggles with his feelings so much. because he can't hate hajime. nagito's feelings, specifically towards hajime, are very complex and it runs deep. i could explain that in depth for a while so for the sake of not making this post too long and keeping it on topic- i might make a separate post for it, if anyone wants it!

[r1ng-w0rm]

Some old WBB! Oc idea that I really wanted to show u guys (+extra info on it)

Okay soo, I had this idea a while ago when I was making WBB! Tobias- it was just a skim through concept designs and I managed to find this beauty in thy picture folders. I couldn't just delete them cause I really liked their hair. :'[

(p.s Gary the tapeworm is not my oc, it's @ewwwabug 's lil homie)

Also I forgot to put Tobias' scars, but to be fair- it looks better scarless.

🪱Bonus Stuff about them! (I don't want to take up space)🪱

[GOB] and [GAT]

🪱This was supposed to be an idea of if the lbb/wbb simulation thing absolutely screwed up and morphed Tobias and Gary(what a silly fellow) into some corrupted goopy two being thing. How did it happen? I don't know. Probably post!rbb But mid relapse of Tobias' bad acid trip. Funny hardy har har. I'm not creative enough for this-

🪱These two are not brothers, they are purely clones/an error multiplied in coding. Plus, if you try to kill them, they multiply.. So don't do it. Or do. Idc

🪱They are not good! They are parasites, therefore bad- evil- and weirdly clammy.

🪱Their hair has nerves and cartilage in it- it can move on its own like tentacles and it squirms if pulled too hard.

🪱Can and will turn you into a rug.

🪱Also, they can be found hiding out in many biker group spots. Either in two headed worm form or in the flesh. Though, as always, they like staying beside the rivals because yknow... That's kinda Tobias' main terf, but that's not to say the thingies stay with Tobias! Eyeball lickers delux 2000.

🪱If the two had some form of ending:

➬Good Ending: They give you a sliver of their weirdly fleshy hair and make you eat it. Congrats! You're the host to a new lovely baby tapeworm who's probably going to be birthed as a screwed up mix of either Varai and Gary, Varai and Tobias, orrrrrrr... Dun dun dun!!! Gary and Tobias again?!?? Now you've got an Antichrist worm baby on your hands!!!! Yippeeeeee!!!!!

➮Neutral Ending: You're kinda stuck watching sitcoms with them until either Varai gets back or until they're hungry for that sweet za (pizza).

➫Bad Ending:... The worst of it all... The absolute horrors... Something so profound and disgusting........... They spit on your shoes and call you stupid names before walking off like they're better than you. They don't want you to become the new host to a tapeworm because you obviously aren't cool enough for that. I hope you're happy. They'll make sure you're band from every good spot in town.. Except the gas station, they'll just give you the permanent bad luck of picking out expired food.

𖤐[ABOUT GOB]𖤐

🪱Lowkey might be a 'THE BLOODY CULTIST' oc. He's purely obsessed with the occult due to him 'hearing a calling' somewhere within his divided dreams where he's a seperate being with long pretty pink hair.

🪱Gobs voice is a mix of two masculine and one corrupted 'demonic sounding' one.

🪱He's allergic to fish whilst Gat isn't, so the two have little fights about that.

🪱Gob can eat rust and live off of spinal fluid

✶[ABOUT GAT]✶

🪱The one who is like the holy divinity of the two. He's not religious, but he has an insane amount of luck on his side... Legend has it that when he cries, a radiation storm happens... Hope you have your rad resistant umbrellas!!!

🪱Gat loves sticking his triple jointed fingers in people's eyes and noses :).

🪱His voice is a mix of static, a feminine voice, and something of an echoed whisper.

🪱Enjoys the sweet supple taste of stomach acid and bugs (specifically centipedes and wasps!!)

[pianocat939]

Hello I have request if you want to do it!

Yandere Rise Turtles that kidnapped the reader and the reader ignores them and stays quiet cause the reader pretty much trusted them and they broke their trust by kidnapping them.

Ah yes the "trust is broken" trope. Time to use all 6 of my braincells to write a theory that is totally impossible~

I know I shouldn't be saying this but I can't think of any ideas for rise rn so I would appreciate requests. Whenever I think of any I scrap it because I don't like how it sounds in the end haha.

Tw: trauma, anxiety, manipulation, delusions, arson (it's Mikey ok?), overprotective impulses, mentions of usage of medical drugs, unhealthy dependencies, I keep making Mikey a sociopath help

Yandere Turtles with Kidnapped MC who Doesn't Speak to them

Raph

I think he would have mixed feelings. The rational side of him perfectly understands why you would react this way; however, he also believes that you need to realize the purpose of his actions.

It's because he needs you so much! His brain can't comprehend being away from you for too long. He gets horrible anxiety if he's not able to cling onto you. So please understand! He's trying to get better but his thoughts just stab him mercilessly.

Despite his views, he doesn't try to pry too much. Sure, he might cry a little, and feel like a monster, but he doesn't talk more than needed. He wishes you answer, but if you need to go through such a state then so be it.

He'll still follow you around, as it's the bare minimum he can tolerate.

I, theoretically speaking, feel that anybody can tell he doesn't kidnap because of twisted/problematic views but rather the amount of trauma he's carried for so long. That being said, there is a way for MC to leave without having to escape.

A. Lot. Of. Therapy.

Consoling his problems is honestly the best way to go for Raph. He's willing to cooperate, and needs only help before he's back to normal. It'll take quite a bit of time, but it's better than being stuck in the lair for the rest of your life.

He apologizes a shit ton. Doesn't matter if you trust him or not, he apologizes.

"I'm sorry. I don't care whether you forgive me or not. I just want you to know that I regret everything."

Leo

Out of his brothers he's least likely to even try kidnapping.

The only case I can think of is if you lost trust for him due to his manipulation. Then he impulsively kidnaps you (it is way too fucking easy for him).

Once you go into your unresponsive state he'll pull the guilt tripping card. He believes if he continues to do so, your mind will trick you eventually. It hurts him that you don't want to answer voluntarily but it's nothing a little bit of psychology can't fix.

He acts like everything is fine while he waits. He'll talk to you, hug you, and anything else of that matter. It's not that he's delusional, rather he's trying to find ways to break you down.

There is a chance he'll lose his patience, and it can go two ways: 1. He breaks and tries to justify his actions. 2. He becomes delusional in a similar way Mikey Wazowski is.

I think there's equal chances for either possbilities.

To elaborate further for the two. When he breaks he'll go into a frenzy of sadness + frustration. He'll state that the reason why he even manipulated in the first place was because he felt useless and wanted you to rely on him for a lot of things. He's honest, and doesn't hide behind his mask. He'll interrogate why you don't depend on him. Let him take care of you, even for something as cutting up Warren Stone.

Now we get to talk about his developing of the "Mikey syndrome" we can call it.

His supposed mind games seem to backfire and work on him rather than you. Meaning, he forms a delusion that you still love and trust him after all the kidnapping and manipulation. He acts as if you guys are a normal couple. Which may be good for your case. He won't let you be independent for some things but you are able to leave the lair (with him by your side). No escaping though, he has his sword.

"I love you so much! I'm glad we understand each other so well."

D'Nello

Most likely to kidnap.

I think his reaction will result in a disaster. As I've written before he's an overprotective and controlling type; so it only makes sense that he declares your state of mind as an illness that he needs to take care of.

Try to ignore him all you want but this man can easily haul you into his lab, run through tests, and not acknowledge the obvious problem of the situation. He believes that you are in a fragile position so it'll only influence him more to "heal" you.

His methods of healing are both physical and mental. He'll check your brain's activity, find a pattern, and see if he can develop a drug that alters your mindset. On the mental counterpart, he talks on and on about psychology, and how to reset everything so that you can be "healthy" again.

If he notices you ignoring on purpose whenever he's speaking about your state of health then he'll snap at you until you listen. You don't have to talk, just be aware of the information leaking from him.

There is no chance of being totally released from his grasp. Not only does he have the advanced technology to ensure your chances of escape are nonexistent, but he is also unnegotiable. He's extremely lucid, but finds no wrong in his intentions as it is protecting someone from harm; when really it is him that is the harm.

Once you're stuck with him, you're fucked.

"Your mental state is nothing I can't fix. The brain can easily be assessed and its neurons can be altered with some drugs."

Mikey Mouse Club House

(I will never take his name seriously)

You are definitely going to be in a worse situation if you ignore Mikey. It's not that he's going to get angry or anything, he becomes more delusional.

He deludes himself into believing you're a god, so if you ignore him, it triggers him into thinking he needs to prove his worth before you give him the privilege of acknowledgment. Additionally, he'll find you even more divine.

He'll prove his worth in a multitude of ways; praising you, doing services, creating a literal book named "Ways to not Upset your God Lover <3". His chaos is terrifying, and it might be the best option to give a sentence to him occasionally otherwise he'll commit crimes far worse than you would ever think of.

If you don't, well let's just say...He'll burn people alive and leave a heart for every place he visits.

Here's one thing I want to express about Mikey. He also has a low chance of kidnapping. It may sound odd, but in my terms, I believe he thinks you're greater than him so it is his duty to follow every word you say. The reason I suppose he could kidnap you is that he wants to be closer.

If he does kidnap you, just say something like, "I want to go home" and he'll deliver you like he's a worker of Jeff Bezos. His mind is easy to figure out.

"Oh hi, baby! Don't mind the scorched-up wood here, just leaving a mark for the world to know my love for you~"

There are a few remains of the body left on the ground...

——————————————————

This was fun. I love analyses so much it's an addiction lmao

- Celina

[bootstrapparadoxed]

Happy STS! What would a road trip with your characters look like? Where are they going, who’s driving, what music do they play, who’s in charge of snacks, etc

Sorry for being late!!

So for Up the Entropic Hill, it's pretty straightforward to describe because the main plot of the book is a space hitchhike, so it's basically a road trip (on spaceships...) already. Translating it into a road trip on Earth: Amber would demand to be the driver even though she would be terrible at it, and she would kill anyone who would try to put on any music (because it would stop her from being able to drive at all). I imagine if she would commit to driving for a long time, it would need to be for a very good reason, probably to do with her history obsession (see a famous historical site, maybe? or visit a far away archive to find some information) - and then she would get carried away and make a billion extra stops and side quests. Also, she would probably come unprepared and need to buy everything she needs later on at some gas station. She would realize she needs food only after multiple hours without any meals and get grumpy as hell before finally stopping for some snacks.

Lullaby would be the best passenger ever. They would have no issues using a map and giving directions and they'd go along with whatever Amber says. And maybe, eventually, they would persuade her to have the radio on, and find some bizarre show to listen to and maybe even call the radio to take part in a quiz or a competition. I doubt Lullaby would fit into a normal car though, considering they are a 3 meters tall humanoid-ish insect... so we're talking a truck of some sort, I guess.

Now for FrankensteinWIP... that's more tricky. Considering both Kristian (the protagonist) and Leith (the love interest) are academics stuck in their research institute basically 7 days a week, probably the only thing that would get them to go on a road trip is a conference of some sort. Problem is, Leith will not get into a car under any circumstances (because of PTSD) so the only road trip they could have is on a train, I guess.

I think the two of them might enjoy it though. Leith would probably be the one to organize everything (like plan the trip, buy the tickets, make sure they switch trains at the right time, etc). Kristian would be anxious as hell about every little detail and Leith would tell him to calm down and enjoy the view. Then they would leave the actual conference in the middle of the day (Kristian would protest but Leith would persuade him) and go out to explore whatever city they were in... and then end up having another passionate philosophy discussion and ignore everything else as usual. And then they would miss their train home and have to stay the night in some airbnb on the outskirts and Kristian would probably find that strangely romantic.

And now I'm just imagining fanfiction of my own novel so I'm going to stop,,,

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F (Molloy, 2024)

Listen, I was always gonna be an easy mark for this. You could play "Axel F" over a slideshow of Eddie Murphy's career and I'd be having a good time. And this is definitely heavy on the fan service. Within the first ten minutes, you've not only gotten the classic theme, but also "The Heat is On" AND "Shakedown". I was barking like Pavlov's dog. You have not just Axel Foley, but Rosewood, Taggart, whoever Paul Reiser played, and even Serge. And aside from Murphy... time comes for us all. To be honest, Judge Reinhold and John Ashton probably look a lot worse than they actually should because of their terrible dye jobs. You know who look good in this? Reiser and Bronson Pinchot, because they let their hair go grey. They understand the winds of time cannot be reversed, only accepted. There's enough shtick from all the boys here that it surpasses the meager expectations of a long gap fan service sequel. Ashton definitely has "day trip from the retirement home" energy, but I was hooting and hollering when Reinhold picked up an AK. "You can never have too much firepower."

But those without Beverly Hills Brain Damage might appreciate the modest amount of effort that went into this. This is definitely a streaming original and doesn't play at too high an energy level, but it's usually closer to "real movie" than "SNL parody" or "commercial homage to classic film". (One exception is the Nasim Pedrad scene, which plays closer to The Other Guys than authentic Beverly Hills Cop.) While only the second film is really satisfying as an action movie, the action here is directed with some visual flair. And most importantly, Murphy might operating at no more than 50%, but the fact that he's putting in effort when he so frequently does not means that this is worth some attention for fans of one of our great comedic talents. Much better than the "no more jokes" bullshit of the third movie.

I will say that this one's release date is definitely not coincidental, as it feels designed to live on as something that autoplays after you finish one of the recent Bad Boys sequels. It's got the same digital magic hour look, and even the same composer in Lorne Balfe, this time riffing on Harold Faltemeyer instead of Mark Mancina. And it's even got the same bullshit with the younger generation. Joseph Gordon-Levitt used to headline movies, and now he's stuck playing this movie's version of AMMO. To be honest, he actually plays pretty well off Murphy, and their scenes together are a lot more enjoyable than the boring ass father-daughter bonding scenes Murphy has with Taylour Paige. I understand Murphy is big on family these days, but he has a family in real life. So keep that shit at home. If I'm watching Beverly Hills Cop, I want nonstop laffs.

And on one last note, I appreciate that this didn't try too hard to modernize the formula, although the sudden concern Foley shows for police accountability and corruption is pretty rich given how blatantly he misused department funds and straight up took a bribe in the second movie, on top all the usual rule breaking he gets up to in all of them.