#and hes from ur part of the world
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quixtrix · 1 year ago
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dolph being asian means sm to me actually, im not south asian like he is but its still :]. you rarely ever see a brown queer asian lead like dolph if ever so its like teeheeeeeeee
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rubiatinctorum · 1 year ago
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I get where people are coming from when they say Diaspro in Winx lost the plot for the sake of being turned into a minor villain and that's all once Valtor enabled her to do what she did in S3, but I feel like that was a reasonable narrative choice. It's only a love potion at that point (while I could go on all day about the ethics of love potions, of course, a later season has her straight up trying to do direct murder). She's a noble, guards will do her dirty work, and I understand that she would feel like getting revenge on Bloom while getting back together with Sky. She was promised a position — romantic AND political — she nearly had and then it was taken from under her by a random fairy who wasn't even "supposed" to be in the running. I don't think what she did was nice, but it makes sense for the story and for her character for her to want to reclaim her position in the way she did. Sky's love was an accessory, in part, to her political ascension, and thus he is again rendered accessory and accomplice by the love spell. And, sending guards after threats seems to be the thing to do in the magical universe if you're a disgruntled noble, so it's probably not unfamiliar for Diaspro to have seen occur before or want to do. It's not a uniquely rotten response any more than Radius' behaviour towards the monster (who, he didn't know it, was Stella). If we fault her for this action rather than only the intention behind it, we need to examine how the worlds in Winx Club deal with threats to their monarchs in general, which sounds interesting but I frankly don't have time for tonight. Diaspro did wrong, but she didn't do uniquely wrong there, and Eraklyon has the punitive security structures in place to have enabled that.
Diaspro's later appearances seem to flatten her motives and the symbolism behind why her relationship with Sky was important and what she does about it (who cares what Diaspro's political aims are and how her status might reflect how she deals with problems, the audience needs to see Bloom thrown into fire I guess), but I feel like seasons 4-8 weren't really that good anyway, so I can't even claim this as a fault of the writers doing Diaspro specifically wrong instead of them just doing the whole show wrong at that point. It might be related, and it might be a coincidence, but a lot of the writing choices seemed to become more flat to me right around when the art shifted to that lifeless godawful Flash simulacrum of S1-3's art.
Also like... idk but if some long-haired hottie wizard in a sick coat and contemplative eyeshadow told me he could help me get my promised chance at both romantic and political success back, I'd at least hear him out, yknow, see what he had to say (<- don't trust me I simp for Valtor)
#rubia speaks#winx club#winx#diaspro#winx diaspro#not supporting women's wrongs but parsing them in context#actually you know what. love u bloom but i have a diaspro apologism streak in me#love potion BAD AWFUL ROTTEN but the guards? we need to interrogate the king about that one i think#and make ur guards pass a basic test on the obvious visual difference between a fairy and a witch idk :/#is diaspro entitled to sky's love and the political position of being his wife? no. does it narratively make sense for her to be mad? yeah#is her position of having been given the expectation of a certain status and result and having it 'undermined' a compelling one? yeah!#i think there's a lot to say about expectation vs reality and the burden of unfulfilled unsealed commitments in Diaspro's situation#and the societal structures in Eraklyon that allow her to act outside of due process because she's big mad as long as the king is cool w he#how the nobles protect their own class and interests even when Sky is acting unusual from VALTOR'S FUCKING MAGIC DAMN#now if she could just drop the magical coercion and the classism and the witch slander..........#interesting how that arc makes Bloom almost an underdog when... babe.... ur a Princess.#Sky's not out here marrying a commoner he's courting a princess of another world#.... sociopolitical views of Domino by other worlds? Bloom acting vs not acting the part of how a princess acts on Eraklyon?#Bloom as a Lesser Princess because of the condition of Domino?#Association with the Winx and Alfea in general making of her a symbolic commoner?#much to consider about Bloom's 'underdog' role compared to Diaspro in the Eraklyon Engagement Era
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imminent-danger-came · 4 months ago
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Part of me, deep deep down, wonders if we still may have a scene of MK on his knees versus his friends a la 4x07
#like maybe we WON'T. and that's totally fine#I did get ''You were locked in a corner- told to get on your knees and accept your fate! And you didn't!#You came back and chose to stand to meet your end! Together.'' Like at the very least *kisses kneeling/standing motif*#And it's like ''your friends will turn on you- seeing you for the monster you will become!'' like where did that fear come from. Wukong#Wukong & Macaque#And what are we MAYBE getting answers to next season. Wukong V Macaque#I just. *gestures* the chaos shit is so weird. the staff corruption is so weird#''When the chaos makes them who they are'' SO WEIRD#So like. Rn I feel like MK finally gets hey. You really don't have to do it alone! And it's okay it all leads to pain! Good job bestie#Like the option is it all leads to pain or there's nothing. Cool cool#But I do feel like. He needs to be okay with his role specifically? You know? Like the ''it's always my fault!'' aspect of it#''It definitely shouldn't be left up to me'' like. Well. It kinda was#This was YOUR choice#Idk man like. This is just gonna have consequences#like ''I saw my children couldn't survive the chaos'' We have lost the safety net of the cycle#We have lost the 10 kings. We've lost heaven (ish).#MK you quite literally chose your sentimentality for mortal pleasures over a lot. Over guaranteed survival#God part of me is like. U were so willing to kill yourself so you could finally make up for being you I know it#I fucking know it MK#Ur so rayla core#my god#U were like "I can finally make the world better than I found it by fucking killing myself'' like dude. dude no#this is such a weird amalgamation of getting better/worse MK like I love you#character of all time#And earlier in the season being like ''You're a beast. A monster'' and then calling nine a monster like. MK. whatever#was part of LBD's plan literally destroying chaos with the fire (''And everything beyond even that!'') like idk I'm losing it#lmk#lego monkie kid#lmk rant#lmk spoilers
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jrueships · 8 months ago
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sauce trying to befriend the popular twitch streamers and gamers is giving sheltered christian kid realizes their only hopes for friendship in school are the weird white boy reddit users who think slurs are comedy, and is just excited to have 'cool' friends so they'll do or say or get into anything their friends do to sound equally as smart just to be capable of saying (lying) that they have 'friends' to their mom when she asks about their day so their family doesn't think they poured all that money into a socially inept loser. instead, they poured all that money into a socially desperate parakeet
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acourtofquestions · 16 days ago
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Hearth to hearth, the Flame of War went.
Over snow-blasted mountains and amongst the trees of tangled forests, hiding from the enemies that prowled the skies. Through long, bitterly cold nights where the wind howled as it tried to wipe out any trace of that flame.
But the wind did not succeed, not against the flame of the queen.
So hearth to hearth, it went.
To remote villages where people screamed and scattered as a young-faced woman descended from the skies on a broom, waving her torch high.
Not to signal them, but the few women who did not run. Who walked toward the flame, the rider, as she called out, "Your queen summons you to war. Will you fly?"
Trunks hidden in attics were thrown open. Folded swaths of red cloth pulled from within. Brooms left in closets, beside doorways, tucked under beds, were brought out, bound in gold or silver or twine. And swords-ancient and beautiful—were drawn from beneath floorboards, or hauled down from haylofts, their metal shining as bright and fresh as the day they had been forged in a city now lying in ruin.
Witches, the townsfolk whispered, husbands wide-eyed and disbelieving as the women took to the skies, red cloaks billowing. Witches amongst us all this time.
Village to village, where hearths that had never once gone fully dark blazed in answer.
Always one rider going out, to find the next hearth, the next bastion of their people.
Witches, here amongst us. Witches, now going to war.
A rising tide of witches, who took to the skies in their red cloaks, swords strapped to their backs, brooms shedding years of dust with each mile northward.
Witches who bade their families farewell, offering no explanation before they kissed their sleeping babes and vanished into the starry night.
Mile after mile, across the darkening world, the call went out, ceaseless and unending as the eternal flame that passed from hearth to hearth.
"Fly, fly, fly!" they shouted. "To the queen! To war!"
Far and wide, through snow and storm and peril, the Crochans flew.
#Chapter 65#Kingdom of Ash#Sarah J. Maas#Manon Blackbeak#no spoilers please first read along with me#spoilers in post and tags with more notes reactions quotes annotations etc in tags#Dorian had gone to Morath. Had flown from the camp on wings of his own making.#He would have chosen some sort of small ordinary bird Manon knew. Something even the Thirteen would not have noted#Crunching snow told her Asterin approached. He left didn't he. She nodded unable to find words. — she knew. East not North.#She had offered him everything and had thought he'd meant to accept it. Had thought he did accept it#She had offered him everything and had thought he'd meant to accept it. Had thought he did accept it. Yet it had been farewell.#He would not cage her would not accept what she'd given. As if he knew her better than she knew herself. Do we go after him?#Today-today they would decide where to go. Today she'd dare ask the Crochans to follow. — The Last Crochan Queen The Witch-Queen#to head back into hell The sun rose full and golden as if it were the solitary note of a song filling the world. — for him she would#Terrasen calls for aid! A young Crochan's voice rang through the camp. — but for her people — THEY GOT THE CALL — GO NOW#Even if she'd needed it waited for it. The Flame of War. What say you Queen of Witches? A challenge and a dare. Manon lifted her chin to -#-the two paths before her. one to the east to Morath the other NORTHward to Terrasen and to battle. The wind sang and in it she heard the#answer. I shall answer Terrasen's call Manon said. Asterin stepped to her side fearless as she surveyed the assembled camp. As shall I.#And so it went. Until the leaders of all seven of the Great Hearths stood gathered there. — I’m not crying ur crying — fire bringer#Rhiannon Crochan rode at King Brannon's side into battle. So has her likeness been reborn so shall the old alliances be forged anew.#Light the Flame of War Queen of Witches and rally your host. — the eternal flame — darkness will not claim them#Even the wind did not jostle the flame as Manon lifted it a torch in the new day. The Crochan crowd parted revealing a straight path toward#Bronwens Hearth. ​Each step was a drumbeat of war. An answer to a question posed long ago. Your Queen summons you to war. — Hearth to Heart#Then and only then did the young scout from the final clan take her burning torch grab her broom and leap into the skies.#To find the next clan to tell them the call had gone out. — nothing but a smoldering speck against the sky then nothing at all. — Hope.#Manon offered a silent prayer on the wind that the sacred flame the young scout bore would burn steadfast over the long dangerous miles.#All the way to the killing fields of Terrasen. Hearth to hearth the Flame of War went.#Fly fly fly! they shouted. To the queen! To war! Far and wide through snow and storm and peril the Crochans flew.#Terrasen calls for aid — so they follow. — Hold on LysAedion come on Aelin — I’m not crying I’m just crying — NOW GO QUICK#The true Witch Queen child of peace and war Manon Blackbeak of the Thirteen & Rhiannon The Last Crochan Queen
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dbphantom · 1 year ago
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I can only dream of seeing a fraction of the discourse that happens on OP tumblr
#Maybe when punk records goes global#Seriously tho imagine all the Strawhat Luffy callout posts#'can't believe Luffy would become an emperor I thought he hated the WG like the rest of us#| please say sike'#'friendly reminder that u can support the revolutionaries without supporting M*nk*y D. L*ffy 🥰'#'Strawhat released thousands of bloodthirsty criminals from prison. If u support him u support their crimes. Fleet members dni 😒'#'he brought Jimbe a previous member of the sun pirates into his crew. U KNOW WHO ELSE WAS AN EX-MEMBER OF THE SUN PIRATES?#| AND LETS NOT FORGET JIMBE WAS A WARLORD. CROCODILE AND DOFLAMINGO WERE ALSO PART OF THAT SYSTEM#|| you guys are seriously saying Strawhat Luffy- the guy who declared war on the world government- supports the warlord system?#||| they're literally pirates who then aligned with the WG. Remember Kuma?? If Strawhat wanted he totally could#|||| they killed his brother?????????????#||||| also Jimbe left + got arrested when they decided to KILL ROGER'S SON#|||||| Roger's son is Luffy's brother? Great so he's also the son of the guy who caused all of these pirates?#||||||| holy shit dude.'#'see a lot of str*wh*t support on this site but they're also pirates. how many of you have been hurt by pirates? they're all scum#it's super hypocritical to support them and condemn the rest. ur either for pirates or against them you literally can't pick and choose.#marines should reblog this. pirates and pirate supporters DNI'#'alright guys I've done a lot of thinking and this is why I'm finally renouncing the Strawhat pirates... [readmore]#SIKE LOL EAT SHIT I LOVE THESE CRIMINALS AND THEIR WANTON VIOLENCE FUCK THE WORLD GOVERNMENT LONG LIVE THE FUTURE KING!!!!!!!'#cruddy rambles#I'm just having fun lol#Wait I could make one of those 'tumblr in the [blank] world' posts but for OP... I totally should XD
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lanshappycorner · 1 year ago
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Sometimes I look outside my scope of mutuals and I'm like.....I'm glad I'm not them (whole essay in the tags)
#im going to ramble about a very touchy subject here but it pertains to 🐉♠️ which i am very open about shipping#apparently its Problematic or whatever 😭😭???? according to Some People#you know ive been thinking abt this for a while now but people really like spouting rhetoric abt how this or that is problematic without-#-really considering the specifics of why things are bad. things being bad are not the same as things possibly being uncomfortable#like people have an aversion to adult/minor ships or incest ships because these are real and tangible things that happen and are disgusting#i do feel like people have freedom over what they want to consume/create in fiction although those topics are an ick to me and i avoid it#but also you have to understand people dont like it primarily because of the realistic aspect of it and how it connects to reality#not a one to one but because reality already has these preexisting issues we naturally have an aversion to it#you cannot apply the same logic to like a dragon man x human ship because a dragon man is not going to scoop you from the sky#the ramifications of shipping an immortal and human are nonexistant and do not pertain to reality and cannot be judged on the same scale💀#well beside from the logic 🐉 is old in body but his mind develops in the way a fae would. and he is described to be young in fae#so up until now i assumed the normal assumption was to say that he is around ~18 in fae yrs by how he interacts with others in his yr#🐉 is like old in the way where hes lived for a long time and understands the passage of time#but hes processed it through the lens of a young person hence why he can come off as immature despite how old he physically is💀#like are we playing the same game?? if he was a well adjusted fully developed adult with a complete understanding of the world and stuff#like idk trein. none of the events in ch 7 would be happening. its kind of like a huge part of his character that despite his physical age#he IS still learning as he IS still young#i could go into a analysis of his character but thats for another time </33#anyways i see people . primarily young people. telling their mutuals you can or cant ship this and that#and im like its okay to not like ships if you personally find it uncomfortable but to police ur friends...for ships that arent even 'bad'#its insane to me...how do u live like this?#people really need to start thinking about the nuances and why things are the way they are in regards to fiction#instead of buying into that weird pr*ship/ant*ship thing 😭 ive always hated it its so dumb. my university professors wouldve hated it#theres no nuance like...none. personally i also think its why people have low reading comprehension these days too tbh#life is about looking at various viewpoints and coming up with your own opinion#not 'picking a side'💀 learn to form your own opinions. talk to people around you about it. do not constrict your opinions to black/white#its an extremely dangerous mindset to have even outside of literature and it makes you very susceptible to dangerous ideas/propaganda#anyways what im getting at is learn to have educated discussions with others and come up with your own opinions instead of picking a side#btw there is no right/wrong side in literary discussions. there is no good/bad side either. whatever you come up w someone will disagree#thats why its important to just believe what YOU believe in (and not parrot others💀). and also be open to change
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endbeginning · 6 months ago
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and if i said.... pet.er peve.nsie.....
#i have never read the books but ive just watched the first 2 narnia movies#it was def my first time seeing prince caspian idk ab the other narnia i probs watched it as a kid#but he..... he is calling me#mr doomed blonde twink who makes poor choices but is doing his best....... welcome back all my muses#i was gonna say welcome back kurt but... tate... levi.... probably more#ive never been. Good at writing fantasy im not great w anything that requires lore#hes just. oh hes calling to me#and the. specifically the pains of living a life in narnia and being king and then having to go back to the real world and be Just A Kid#idk if hes in the third movie im ab to watch it now but the bitter sweet end of 2 where he says hes leaving narnia and he wont be coming ba#and aslan says its bc he has nothing more to learn from it like..... kinda heartbreaking and would destroy u as a person#a world where ur king and u do everything u can to make the right choices but u dont do things really right and u get people killed#and yeah narnia prevails but it doesnt prevail bc of u. its in part bc of u but ur decision cost lives it risked a lot#and then its like. well ur leaving now and thats it bc it taught u what u needed to learn#and like maybe it did but he had no chance at redemption at fixing things there like his redemption was to leave it to someone more capable#and then he has to just like. go be a person. and live a normal life#like thats wild#im gonna go watch the third movie if u have read the books sound off on if u think i should based entirely on my little rant ab peter#the issue here tho. is if i made him. u see. two muses named peter on this blog... both with a last name starting w p.... its almost like.#its almost like one would have to be a solo blog#'but quin ur literally never here anyway' but what if for a hyperfixation muse i was here#this post started w the intent of 'narnia peter solo blog' but now... i am thinking perhaps spider peter would be a better solo bc of his.#bc of the fixation i have#however he intimidates me a Lot as a solo blog bc hes such a. everyone knows him u know hes a Big muse and i fear the pressure of that#then again narnia i think is big too? and theres the talks of the new movies so thats also potentially big muse#its crazy bc i have sososo much muse for every muse i have but my brain is saying abandon this blog and make both peters solos#and i Cant do that#but at the same time................................#my issue has always been too many blogs and being stretched too thin but also. w all due respect. who cares#like i am here to have fun and most of the time my blogs dont last bc no one writes w me not bc i dont want those muses#and yeah theres no guarantee making a new blog would change that but idk. kinda vibe w the idea of starting new
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identityquest · 2 years ago
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ive been playing a lot of pokemon-like games lately to search for something new to fill the void of the desire to collect creatures... so many games show so much promise but there's always something holding them back. it's usually just like one thing and i cant get too mad bc a lot of them are either extremely inexpensive or outright free. but it sucks to be playing a game thats otherwise solid only for it to suck bc like, the writing is abysmal or the gameplay loop is miserable. the most egregious thing ive encountered in a lot of these games is the lack of a robust bestiary. like thats the main reason i played pokemon and stuck with it, when prof rowan asked me to research for him i took that seriously 😭 i want to know abt the animals please for the love of god give me a description, a habitat range some fun facts. please
#strato.txt#i got spoiled to gen IV dex w/ footprints and the height and weight scale and the cry remixer and form differences..#when they took away footprints i sobbed cried and screamed. i was like WHERE ARE THEIR LITTLE PAWS....#maybe its cause i associated footprints w/ that guy who gives you a ribbon if your friendship is maxed out#cause he reads how much ur pokemon love you by the way they leave footprints in the sand... sigh#anyways. the scale for showing u how much pokemon weighed was cool too. how it launched dawn/lucas if the pokemon was heavy enough#i just really. REALLY want to feel like a field researcher that was always so important to me as a kid. going out and learning and growing#the villainous team is just a roadblock. and obstacle in my path to learn and see the world#i feel like gamefreak has shifted from learning as a narrative to coming of age and saving the world as a narrative. im sick of it tbh#is that what kids want these days. when i was a kid i wanted to be an astronaut and a paleontologist#so many games are getting the 'whoa cool beast' thing down. theyre the tyrannosaurus lovers. they like the cool animal and its evolution#but theyre neglecting like... the nature part? the part where the animal clicks in with the world. where its part of the ecosystem#they know that trex is cool and huge but not that it lived in a subtropical climate dominated by angiosperms.#the pokemon co and gamefreak have gone to great lengths to make pokemon feel REAL#they exist in their environments and shape them and interact with each other. many prey on each other#pokemon inhabit certain regions of the world bc thats their /ecosystem/. theyre not just randomly placed...#oh my god. i have more to say but im stopping here. im stopping
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eebie · 2 years ago
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i love to see your john egbert appreciation. truly a character of all time. hes so cute and silly. hes depressed but the smallest things make him so happy. hes got the weirdest sense of humor. he's packed full to the brim with autism. even when hes being mean hes somehow still nice. i hope you continue to love him for the whole story 💙
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YEAH YYEAH EVERYTHING U JUUSR SAID !!!!!!!
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cruelsister-moved2 · 2 years ago
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did we even watch the same show
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lesbian-gnf-archive · 2 years ago
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Why do people think they know more about Dream and his sexuality more than what he has said. You are not in his brain. You are not him. You are a pathetic Twitter user trying to say someone being queer doesn't mean they are 100% homosexual so therefore they can't make gay jokes.
You sound fucking delusional and if you spent half as much effort you do invalidating and erasing a person's identity and gatekeeping you might actually graduate high school
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lcpmon · 1 year ago
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idk how other ppl learn to read characters but even when someone has very few lines, if they're not a few throwaway lines and have a smidgen of thought put into them, you can really deduct a lot of things from what they say without mountains of dialogue and array of actions they take.
cIaus, even Iucas via his few lines and interactive dialogue, is so easy to understand and learn what hes about from the dialogue you are given. it shouldnt be hard to mess him up
and even tho these are more active characters in the story with goals to achieve and story beats to hit, u rly can apply the same to lngo and 3mmet. u can make assumptions or deduct possible aspects about how they act from breaking down their dialogue and possible routine. some things might be completely speculative and pulled out of thin air but as long as it matches the characters general front its hard to go wrong
#gilly speaks#fanon can have some fun in it and sometimes its where most of ur source material might come from bc theyre not important npcs but#its important to review how they actually act if u wanna create something semi faithful#im not 100% faithful but i think about these things alot#ie i like opposites in how they present themselves vs how they actually are#lngo being viewed as always responsible whilst actually being a bit reckless <- i dont take p0kemas as canon but their event lit#proves this when he wants to get straight into action in the tunnels whilst 3mmet reigns him back in with a reminder about asking#and vice versa when 3mmet takes safety way more seriously than lngo even tho its something they both care for#i have many thoughts abt them#always and forever#another part of my not 100% faithful adaptions is taking their inaction during all bw events#u could say they had to protect the subway and its ppl but honestly...........#they could have taken a stand against ghets1s with the league#the workers are no pushovers they could have handled themselves were anything to happen in n1mbasa#so i see that as them actively protecting the subway and one another above a larger threat in hopes theyd be left alone and that someone#would deal w that problem even if it ends up being a young teenager </3#theyre just normal guys. literally standard guys who dont want to be caught up in world saving shenanigans.#theyre both justice oriented when its to do with the subway directly#otherwise its just not their problem. theyre just some guys!!!!#ignore the strength they wield dw abt it#sorry i cannot be normal abt them theyre very dear to me and them being complex instead of amazing and good guys is so much more fun#theyre not bad!! they barely scrape morally grey bc they ultimately want to do good but sometimes theyre willing to turn a blind eye to#bigger problems in order to protect whats important to them
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doors-worstenemy · 4 days ago
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Spot the difference
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I hate watching Internet horror because it results in my recommendations being filled with "analysis" videos (actually just a plot summary) with thumbnails that look like this:
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evilgwrl · 3 months ago
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ExHusband!Simon x Reader
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You Want a Divorce? (Two)
Note: I feel like this is so bad im sorry!!!!
CW: Angst, titty sucking, passionate asf sex, simon missed ur pussy and you very much and vise versa, breeding kink, PIV (no protection, pls use it irl), squirting, simon eats the FUCK out of ur pussy, multiple orgasms, praise, hint of degradation, possessive!simon, OVERSTIMULATION, slight daddy kink… sorry
Part One
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It was a quiet ride, the subtle sweeps of cars fleeting by as Simon gripped the wheel, eyes trailing off to the side to look at you briefly. Your head was leaned against the window, your knees knocking together anxiously as your daughter babbled in the back, cooing about how Mummy and Daddy were now back together.
You tried to hide the shed of tears that filtered across your iris, every small childish mumble like a stab to the gut as you listened to the genuine happiness in her tone. You would turn around occasionally with a small smile as you reached out to tickle her foot, giggles filling the car.
Simon pulled in, the car bouncing slightly as it hit the gravel carpark, his hand swerving into a spot before he turned to the back. “You excited, baby?”
Ella’s face lit up as she fumbled to take off her seatbelt, “Get me, Daddy! Get me! I wanna see the lions!” It was refreshing knowing she still viewed Simon as her hero, no matter how distant he was in their lives. You knew that even though your ex-husband was rarely around, his time with them did everything it could to mend the time apart. Toby woke up at the commotion, the toddler having slept the whole way there despite his older sister’s constant bickering about what animals she had to see first.
Everything seemed to flash past you as you walked inside, the whir of kids and noise sending your brain into overdrive as your eyes flickered to Simon with Ella swinging around on his shoulders and Toby kicking his legs in the stroller. You looked away; breath shaky as you attempted to compose yourself. This was supposed to be a happy day, for all of you, yet seeing him with your children, something that was supposed to be normal, felt so distant and unknown. Gathering yourself, you plastered a fake smile, hands reaching out to pinch your son’s cheeks as you grabbed the stroller.
Your heart hammered in your chest for the remainder of the day, fingers tingling with anxiety that bled into your veins, consuming your lungs with what seemed like everything but oxygen. It was a series of squeals and commotions from your young ones, their elation evident through the bright glow of their face, soft red resting on the apples of their cheeks. As the day quieted down, Toby slumped in the stroller as you tucked him into the car seat, his new plush crocodile cradled into his arms, mouth wide open as subtle breaths snored out.
Ella was cradled into Simon’s shoulder, her shoes half hanging off as she clutched onto him, dead asleep. You settled into the ride home yet your anxiety only seemed to heighten. You were alone with Simon, with no kiddish voices to break the tension, brown orbs glaring into the side of your face.
“Should we talk about this morning?”
You scoffed. “You have some nerve asking to talk about this morning,” you screamed into a hush, “What you did was completely disrespectful. Not only did you break into my house and kick my date out, but you left our kids in the car! What the fuck were you thinking?”
He cleared his throat, almost like he wanted to hold back how he felt. You noticed the white in his knuckles as he gripped the wheel, right eye twitching as he stared at the squiggles of tar ahead. “I don’t want our kids growing up thinking it’s normal for parents to separate. They need their mum and dad together, y/n.”
The world silenced for a second, the screams of the wind rushing past you seemed to slow as your voice cracked, seeps of emotion pouring out as you choked on your breath, “Then you should have fought for your family, Simon. There is no us anymore, it’s just them. They’re all that connects us now.”
You felt like all the ivory had been sucked out of your eyes, endless pits of your pupil consuming you whole, blurring your vision with fog as you blinked, hot streams of liquid salt spilling onto your cheeks, brimming at the cracks of your lips as you sniffled. You could feel his hesitation as he looked at you.
His words regurgitated in his throat as he stammered, tangled limbs reaching out to grip yours as you pulled away.
“Just drop us home.”
Your eyes had dried now, soft stains of bare skin caving through your foundation as you smudged your fingers against it. Simon stuttered as he pulled up to the driveway, tyres screeching to a halt as you sat in silence.
The soft strum of fingers caught your attention as you turned around, the innocent face of Toby looking back at his parents, tongue blabbing out of his mouth. “Dadda! You have dinner?”
“No, sport. Daddy’s gotta go-“
“Yeah, baby. Daddy will have dinner with us.”
You blinked at your own words, Simon’s surprised expression meeting yours. The wrench in your heart would never subside, the entirety of the beating organ still belonging to your ex-husband, but being a mother was a sacrifice. And you would sacrifice yourself in every existence you become one if it meant your children didn’t have to battle the same internal wounds.
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“They’re tucked in,” Simon said, voice soft as he noticed your withered body in the couch. Your hair was messy now, strands spitting out as you anxiously tucked them back in, smoothing them down with the dampness of your palms as you ran around all night, ushering to the demands of your children.
“Thank you.”
You felt ill, your tongue cascading down your throat as you palmed at your knees, desperate for him to leave yet desperate for him to stay. Simon stilled, keys jangling in his hand before he sat down next to you, his weight disrupting the couch as he shuffled around.
“I need you to know that I did want to fight for you, y/n. I have counted every single day since you handed me those papers, waiting by my phone every single night on deployment hoping for you to text me, call me, fuck - blow my phone up. I never wanted the temporary absence that we had apart become permanent. Everything I said,” he breathed, voice cracking slightly as he looked away, “Everything I said on October 6th, 7 years ago, I meant. You weren’t supposed to get away from me - I shouldn’t have - I shouldn’t have let you get away from me.”
It was strange. Simon was never one for feelings, the brutality of his job allowed for any harsh emotions to crack through his fingers as he pulled a trigger, any dampness of tears would sweat through his skin as he pummelled a blade into an enemies head.
But it was you. And you weren’t violent, or any enemy, you were his wife, the person he vowed his entirety too.
Your anxious cascade cracked as you whimpered out a sob, chest heaving as you buried your face, tight with tears, into the pillows of your hands. You felt warmth spread through you, the texture of Simon’s fingers burning through you like wildfire, every ember he felt scorching through your flesh as he pulled you in.
Arms tangled together, intwining like wool as he wrapped you into his chest nimbly. A zephyr ran through you, your wrists clutched in his hands as you straddled him, the weight of you feeling like the grandest treasure upon him.
It was nothing strange, nor sexual but Simon recognised that cry, the differing pitch as you shuffled your frame into his. Simon knew you like the back of his hand, every crevice, every crease, every scar. He knew your backstory, and the one you made up to impress people. He knew the hex of the colour of your eyes and the print of your thumb. No papers would take that away from him.
Soaked eyelashes clumped into one as you looked up at him, orbs resembling once of a doe, innocence seeping through every inch of a salt-stained tear. His eyes met yours, apertures of cocoa reflecting your weary frame as you gripped onto him.
“Let me come home, please.”
Simon’s voice was desperate, it was raw, any shed of arrogance erased through the lines, eyebrows knotted together as he rubbed at the small of your back.
Your nod was subtle, but he could practically hear it, calloused hands gripping at the plush of your cheek and seeping through the tip of your spine, thumb rubbing at your earlobe as he clutched onto you.
Hot, seething pricks ran through your limbs as your lips connected, saline lining your mouth as he lapped at the heat of your tongue, rough groans leaving his lips as he savoured the taste.
Any diffidence left your body as familiarity sunk back into you. Hands pawed at the globe of your ass, gripping the flesh as anguished limbs wrapped around Simon’s waist.
With an easy tug, he lifted you, your hands wrapping around his neck as he pulled you in closer, teeth kissing. You never questioned Simon’s strength, and you wouldn’t start now as you felt your back hit your mattress.
He tugged at his shirt, the black fabric pooling on the floor as you sucked in a breath. Your eyes traced every scar, lighter flesh engraved into the skin of his torso, a short trail of hair disappearing into his pants as you stared at his burly physique.
Simon gripped at your shirt, the material practically ripping before his hands were at your chest, grabbing at your flesh desperately as you tangled your fingers into your bra, sliding it off. His mouth was hot on your chest, the sound of moans and pants filling the air as he positioned himself between your legs, teeth grazing the hard nubs, sucking with fervour as you whined, your hand at the base of his head, cradling it.
“Missed these so fucking much,” he practically whined, groping your tits as he pinched your nipples, lips sucking deep marks of possession into the soft skin. Your pants were desperate, begging him for more as you pulled his hair, fingernails clawing at his scalp.
Your hands fumbled with your pants, hips raising as he slid them off, clumsy fingers chucking them across the room as you laughed, lips connecting once more in a giggly state as his thumb pushed against the wetness of your panties.
“Missed how fucking wet you got for me. Such a good fucking girl,” he groaned, fingers rubbing at your heat through the thin cloth eliciting a pained moan from you.
“Simon - I need more, been so long.”
He choked out a laugh as his fingers hooked into the fabric, lace dribbling down your leg before he mewled at the sight of you. His hands held your thighs apart, your soaking cunt on display as it throbbed, slick folds glistening in the poor lighting.
“Prettiest fucking pussy,” he choked out to himself, placing your legs over his shoulder as he knelt down. Your back arched as you felt his tongue lick a long stripe of your pussy, his body seething for a taste of you as his lips found your neglected clit.
He lapped at you mercilessly, your cries and moans moulding into one with the filthy squelches of his mouth against your heat. Long digits circled your entrance, teasing you, before they curled in.
Your eyes rolled, pools of ivory exposed as you let out a guttural moan, your thighs tightening around his ears as he smirked against your pussy. Cocky fingers rubbed at the right spot, favouring the clench of your tight hole as he pulled every noise he could get from you.
You were barely cohesive as he lapped at your slick, the throbbing of your clit edging him on as he soothed your g-spot with the pad of his fingers. The coil you had only ever felt with Simon began to build, the familiar sensation pooling in your stomach as you stuttered out a whimper.
“Si- too much - I’m gonna-“
“That’s it baby,” he cooed, pulling away from your pussy for a second to take in your expression as you came, your face contorted with pleasure as your legs jerked, pussy wrapping tighter around his abusing digits as he fucked you through it with them. You looked down at him, saliva and your slick coating his mouth and chin as he grinned.
You stammered out a groan as his mouth attached back on your pussy, slurping up your liquid gold as you attempted to push his head away in overstimulation.
“Oh my- fuck - Simon - too much,” you whimpered your words commanding him to continue as he guzzled around your clit, teeth grazing the sensitive bud as your legs shook uncontrollably.
It wasn’t long before the continuation from your previous orgasm rose again, heat swarming your lower belly as you screamed out, your hand slapping over your mouth as you felt Simon’s spare hand wrap around your thigh, squeezing tightly.
You pulled at his hair, tugging at the ashy roots before you were gushing around his fingers and tongue again, sloshing liquids soaking your sheets as he groaned at the taste, mouth lapping it up with vigour. You whined in humiliation, the overwhelming pleasure becoming too much as you heaved.
“Si - no more -“
“I’m sorry baby, too fucking good. Will never get enough of your pussy.”
His words were filthy yet only held the truth, his continuous slurps against your heat causing your body to jerk as you relentlessly bucked your hips. Simon’s abuse continued on your pussy, your pussy gushing and coming another 6 times before he was satisfied, the sheet under you drenched in both your slick and squirt as Simon milked your overwhelmed cunt, claiming he was “making up for the months lost”.
You were dry heaving, throat dry as he captured your lips in a kiss, the taste of you infiltrating into your glands as you groaned, his hands reaching to tug at your breasts as he took in your fucked out state, legs jiggling and twitching as your pussy convulsed at the number of orgasms he dragged out of you.
You felt like you had been lying here for hours, yet you weren’t satisfied. You would only be content when he was inside you, stretching you to the brim as he pumped a load inside your worn-out hole.
“Simon - please - I can’t… I need you now,” you were practically crying, tears shedding at the brim of your eyes, bottom lip jutting out as he tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, slicking back the sweat on your forehead.
“I know baby, done so well for Daddy, hm? Even after all that you still need to be plugged full of me don’t you?”
You nodded as a harsh slap landed against your clit, your body jolting as you squeaked. “Yes, please,” you cried, “Please Daddy.”
His hands were like clockwork, tearing at his jeans as they released his cock, a satisfied groan leaving his body as he gripped at the tent in his pants, a sticky wet patch soaking the material before his length throbbed out, angry tip slapping his stomach as a trail of precum glistened against the base of his cock.
His dick was flushed red, begging for release as he ran it through the squelch of your sopping folds, rubbing against your manipulated clit as you moaned.
Your hands gripped his head as he leant down to kiss you, his arm holding him up while the other positioned himself at your entrance. He stilled for a moment, cock almost pressing in before he whispered, “I love you.”
“I love you.”
The words were soft yet meaningful, your eyes interlocked as he began to push inside, your mouth gasping open as you clutched onto his shoulders. It was hard when you were together all those years to get accustomed to his frightening length, and now it had been a year and the stretch was searing through you.
“I know, sweet girl, you can take it. Such a tight cunt for me, so fucking good.”
Fingernails clawed at his back as he pushed in, your whines muffled by the palm of his hand as he held himself up his elbows. “Holy fuck,” he spluttered as he bottomed out, his lips connecting to your neck as he sucked, resting inside you for a second as you whimpered.
The burn slowly faded as you rutted against him impatiently, the tip of his cock resting against your sweet spot as you gasped.
“So fucking impatient, always been such a slut for me. Haven’t you?”
You nodded, whining as he began to move, moving his hips slowly as he rubbed inside you perfectly, your mouth wide open as your head lolled back. A series of expletives tipped from your tongue as you choked on the air, Simon’s pace picking up at your dramatic noises.
“Fuck - taking me so well-“ he grunted, hands groping at your tits as he watched your pussy absorb his length. It was an obscene sight and he loved it. Every fibre of your being belonged to him and it was something he constantly craved.
“All fucking mine - shit - my fucking pussy,” he grunted, thumb rubbing at your clit as you mewled, twitching below him as he spat, “my fucking wife - got the tightest fucking cunt just for me.”
You clenched around him at his words, knowing it was true as his balls slapped against your ass, skin spanking against each other as the sound filled the room, ecstasy roaring through both of your veins as you made love.
The squelch of your pussy was taboo as he lapped in the missed sound. His eyes took in the way your body reacted to every movement, no matter how small. He took in the way your breasts bounced with each thrust, lower stomach bulging as he pounded into you.
“Fuck - Simon - oh my God,” your words were a mere blabber, barely making sense as you clutched onto him, pulling him down to meet your lips.
“I can’t pull out, baby - fuck - gotta cum in this pretty pussy. Give you another kid, hm? - shit -“
His hips didn’t falter as his pace fastened, chasing his own high as he rubbed at your clit, your breaths growing shallow as your orgasm began to build. “Gonna fill you with my cum until it takes. Need your belly round again and your tits full - such a good fucking mum, makes me so fucking proud.”
His words were the final straw as the build up in your stomach popped, your whole body convulsing as your pussy clenched around him, a loud groan leaving his throat before you felt the hot splashes of his cum pumping inside you.
“That’s it baby, milk my cock. Such a good fucking girl for Daddy, gonna break you apart everyday on my cock until you never forget who you belong too.”
He didn’t pull out immediately, his cum plugged inside you as some seeped out, rolling down the crevice of your ass below you. Your eyes shut, gentle pants leaving your lips as you felt Simon’s absence before a soft cloth was wiped gently across your sex and masculine arms were gripping onto you, carrying you into the guest room before engulfing you into a thrill of heat, Simon’s chest against your back as you fell asleep.
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TAGLIST: @kiiwiipie @nijiru
Disclaimer: im sorry if this is disappointing im super tired :(((
4K notes · View notes
seiwas · 8 months ago
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i maxxed the tags (what did i expect) but!!
what a soft piece ari 🥺 thank you for sharing this hurt/comfort piece w us!! i think satoru will always be a figure of strength—but i think it’s in part because that’s how he brands himself to be around the people he cares about. he’ll never truly share how he thinks and feels about things, will almost always downplay it really. but he’s always worrying, always aware and cautious, overthinking 🥺 and i felt that loads here!!
there’s a shipwreck stuck between your ribs ; satoru gojo
synopsis; three times satoru sees you cry, and the understanding you gain of each other from it.
word count; 4.6k
contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, the synopsis speaks for itself i think, copious amounts of hurt/comfort, i just think he’d be so good at comforting u :ccc, also fluff!!, he’s addicted to calling u ”baby,” satoru gojo vs human emotion (he loses)
a/n; pls ignore the fact that 90% of my gojo fics are hurt/comfort ok we dont need to get into that <33 the writing in this one might be a lil rusty but im pretty fond of this gojo :’3
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dim lights, buttery popcorn, and boredom.
the senses invading his mind are mellow, coaxing, a little tedious. all he can see are the buzzing lights before him, all he can hear is the insistent chewing of the people around him, and all he can feel is just that:
boredom.
satoru stifles a yawn, resting his cheek on the heel of his palm. he’s trying to pay attention — really, he is. trying to pay attention to the movie he picked out himself, after thoughtful consideration, one he’s been looking forward to watching with you all week. he’s trying his best. but, gosh, it’s just so boring.
or maybe he just doesn’t have it in him today — with all these too-dim lights, too-loud popcorn-chewers, and the too-convoluted plot playing on the big screen in front of him. he has no idea what’s happening, anymore, what scene this is supposed to be. some sob-story? he clocked out a while ago.
so, with nothing better to do — satoru decides to savour another view.
that’s how it always goes. no matter the movie, no matter the snacks, whether you’re watching at home on the couch or a nearby movie theatre — eventually, when his eyelids begin to grow heavy, or when his attention span begins to falter, that blue-soaked gaze of his shifts. a moth to a flame, following his instincts. constantly looking over to see what kind of face you're making. 
after all, your reactions are far more entertaining than any movie could ever hope to be. little sighs of exasperation, jolts and shivers down your spine, or a laughter so bubbly he can’t resist leaning in for a kiss or ten — he loves it. adores it. lives and dies by it. 
so satoru turns his head, and looks at you, knowing you’ll save him from the boredom clutching at his subconscious. 
and something in his chest constricts.
at first, he doesn’t notice it. hungrily lapping over the expanse of your jaw, to your cheekbones, his gaze drinking in everything he can see. scanning your eyes for a hint of emotion; and he finds it. he finds it in something that glimmers in the dim lighting of the theatre, something that has his breath drawing back to the depths of his throat.
tears.
crystalline, dew-drawn, a fresh set of tears clinging to the edge of your lash line. they’ve yet to fall, but satoru sees them — he sees them and he doesn’t know what to do. 
tears. 
tears?
you’re crying.
in the depths of your glassy eyes, he sees a fractured scene — playing against the scope of your iris, as the movie reflects off your pupils. there’s a turmoil there, a sadness, one that has you covering your mouth with the front of your knuckle. and you’re crying.
satoru wants to tease you. he wants to lean over and purr against the shell of your ear, poke fun at you for being so emotional. such a little baby. what else is he supposed to do?
the tricky part is that he can’t. he can’t move, can’t shape his voice into a purr, can’t even speak. he’s frozen in place like a bug trapped in amber, stuck to his seat, unable to do anything but blink at you in what he thinks might be bewilderment.
his breath hitches — and that’s all. 
something about the sight of you makes him falter, makes him stop in his tracks. catches him off guard. he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t recognize the feeling stirred deep within his chest, something discomforting and foreign. doesn’t understand why his heart feels so itchy, all of a sudden.
then your eyes meet.
and you blink. once, then twice. eyes just a little wide, an embarrassed kind of surprise. he thinks you must be flustered, and he’s proven right when your gaze flees from his.
a mingle of words clog up at the base of his throat. say something, say something, say something. but he doesn’t know what. 
he wets his lips, preparing to part them, but before he can get the first syllable out you're leaning in. close. close enough that he feels your breath ghost against the shell of his ear, close enough that his heart starts skipping the way it always does when you press yourself against him like that’s where you belong.
a whisper. it’s small, hushed, a little frail. but there’s something else, too, laced together with the vowels — amusement. 
”you didn’t tell me this was a sad movie.”
a pout plays at your lips, as you murmur your grievances. but then there’s that amusement; it’s there when you pull back, in the crinkle of your sparkling eyes, the curve of your smile. 
and satoru’s shoulders relax. stiffened bones melting. he exhales a breath he had no idea he was holding, and his heart feels at ease. a grin finds it’s way to his lips, wide, teasing, cheshire and sweet. 
he leans a little closer, bumping his head against yours. gently. ”i think you’re just sensitive, baby.”
his teasing is rewarded with a little huff, as your elbow meets his side. soft. everything you do is soft. 
”oh, shut up,” you scoff. smiling. he’s so relieved that you’re smiling. 
a moth to a flame, following his instincts, satoru brings you closer. an arm around your waist, pulling you into his orbit, until you’re practically sharing seats. searching for your hand — and he finds it, intertwining his long fingers with yours, just to give it a little squeeze.
(for some reason, he feels more protective than usual.)
he feels your gaze. questioning, maybe. but you melt into him quickly, with your head slumped against his shoulder, and his heart settles back into a sleepy rhythm. just watching the movie pass you by.
the dim lighting of the theatre casts a hazy shadow over your face, a tender desaturation, and his eyes stay glued to it when you aren’t looking. the smell of popcorn hangs heavy in the air, salty and buttery, warm and sweet, and he’s almost grateful to feel that familiar boredom tug at his veins.
anything is fine. anything is better than that discomfort, that irritating itch. 
satoru watches the movie flicker by, scene by scene, whispering commentary into your ear and stealing your popcorn with a satisfied hum. chuckling when you whisper-shout at him to cut it out!
he tries not to think of the glittering tears at your lash line, and almost succeeds.
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rain clouds, cups of chamomile, and frustration.
it seeps out into the open air, engulfing your living room in a feverish haze. thick and suffocating; the scent of heavy rain, lukewarm tea, and that ugly, ugly feeling underneath his skin.
it pulses. it itches. and oh, how it aches.
satoru hates it. he hates feeling angry, feeling upset — hates when either of those emotions are in connection to you. hates it, hates it, hates it more than anything.
he does everything he possibly can to avoid it; his eyes are keen, always have been, and he can see when that thin line he shouldn’t cross crawls a little too close for comfort. when the rubber band of your patience just snaps. he sees all your buttons, knows which ones not to push. he knows you.
and, more importantly, more than anything — nothing you do could ever make him angry at you. 
(well, at least that’s what he thought.) 
satoru’s anger is a fickle thing, controlled, kept under wraps. it’s a slow process; it simmers, boils, a cup of chamomile brewed too long. and then it all but invades his senses. it never gets the best of him, never, but right now he can feel it — little pinpricks against his skin, a frustration that stirs his guts and has his eyes going cold.
satoru towers over you, like this. full height on display. not slouching or draping himself over furniture, but standing tall, and proud, and menacing. he isn’t smiling, and that’s all you need to know that he’s upset with you. his eyes are layered over with discontentment. 
a sigh spills from his lips, a little gruff, unmistakably annoyed. it slices the silence of the room in half, and a shiver travels down your spine. he doesn’t notice it. his voice has a rough edge to it, something firm. something that doesn’t sound like it could come out of his mouth at all.
”don’t act like such a child.”
a flinch. or maybe more like a jolt; this time, he notices, but it’s too late. he’s in too deep, boiled water licking at his ankles, pulling him down. frustration nips at his skin, and he can’t quite seem to push it away.
and you’re just so, so unaccustomed to it. unaccustomed to seeing him wear anything but a smile, unaccustomed to that cold gaze, usually nothing but warm and fond when it meets your own. this isn’t like him.
it’s not like him at all.
swallowing thickly, you do your best to calm down. but before you can make any attempt to contain it, wetness begins to gather in the corners of your eyes. pooling, little droplets yearning to fall.
satoru notices them instantly. he sees that sad glimmer, framed by the murky darkness seeping in from beyond the curtains, accompanied by the symphony of pitter patter against the windowpane. tears, much like the rain beating down outside.
and his chest goes cold.
a tiny sniffle pushes past your lips, and the dam inside you begins to break — tears tripping over your lash line, rolling down your cheeks. cascading across your pretty face. the air fills with a sense of dread, and both of you seem to be thinking the exact same thing.
(oh, fuck.)
satoru notices, belatedly, that his throat has gone dry. that his heart feels itchy, again. it itches and itches but he can’t do anything to soothe it, and your tears continue to fall. 
his heart begins to crack. right down the middle, like a gash in the reflection of a puddle, right across his chest. it hurts.
an inhale, then an exhale. you’re still trying to keep it all together, grasping for control over your emotions, but it’s not going too well. the little breaths that escape your throat are shaky at best, hands trembling as you wipe the tears away with the front of your wrists. and your voice sounds a little like it’s about to crumble away. 
”sorry,” you squeak, taking a step back. there’s a silent panic in the gesture, one that makes satoru want to get down on his knees. ”i’ll just — i’ll leave —”
he wants to stop you. he needs to stop you. but he does nothing, nothing at all, even as you stumble out. leaving the haunting echo of tiny sniffles and tear-stained cheeks behind you. 
satoru just stands there. once again, the sight of your tears seems to render him completely helpless. useless.
and he's frustrated, honestly. frustrated by the argument, by your tears, by his own guilt. he’s so frustrated he wants to claw his eyes out. he scratches at his forearm, but it does no good. all he can think of is your frightened little expression.
(he scared you.)
satoru slumps down on the couch, head in his hands, running rough fingers through his soft hair. it’s unruly by the time he’s done, and his bottom lip is bruised with teeth marks, and everything in the world feels so meaningless. so out of tune.
(he made you cry.)
a sigh. drawn out, tinged with exhaustion, bitter and battered like the swing of a baseball bat. he feels a little like he could throw up. it’s foreign, this emotion, suffocating. how long has it been since he genuinely felt this kind of shame?
the crack in his heart grows deeper, while you’re gone. more severe. every moment you spend outside of his vision makes him falter more and more, makes his desperation grow. desperate to plead for your forgiveness, to convince you not to leave. to wipe the tears away from your cheeks, delicately, the way you deserve. but he can do nothing but sit there, useless, repeating the same old phrase inside his mind.
he’ll make it up to you.
and when you finally come back, having calmed down a bit, he does just that. you’re embarrassed, he can tell, a little meek. it makes him feel that discomforting emotion, again, that ache. the crack that only ever seems to deepen.
but he covers it all up with a smile. a little sheepish, more than a little forced, but he hopes you understand. hopes you can see his remorse, see a man who loves you, because he does. 
so satoru takes you into his arms, softly, hands finding the small of your back. delicate, protective. a little whisper spilling from his lips. 
”’m sorry, baby. i didn’t mean it.”
and it’s not enough. he knows it isn’t. but he does what he can — even when it just ends up clumsy, teasing, bordering on something that most would interpret as insincere. all he can do is coddle you. shower you in hugs and kisses, gifts and praises. he hands it out like candy, eager hands finding yours, everything spilling out of his chest all at once. 
there’s a desperation to it that isn’t lost on you.
but it works. he’ll make it up to you; he swears. and he dotes on you until you’re too embarrassed to be sad anymore, apologizes until his throat runs dry. until he’s sure you believe him. 
he brews you another cup of chamomile, stirred to perfection, warm enough to make up for the shiver he sent down your spine. the rain beating down on your windows serves as a constant reminder of his failure, and satoru does his best to ignore it. swallowing what’s left of his frustration, focusing on you.
anything to see you smile again. anything to wash away the red tint to your eyes, the puffy skin beneath them. anything to hear you laugh, to get you to feel safe around him again. 
(anything to make him forget the sight of those tears rolling down your cheeks.)
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panic, panic, panic.
it’s all he can feel, all he can think, the only emotion his muddled mind can cling to. he’s in pure, sincere, genuine panic, and you aren’t saying a thing. can’t bring yourself to.
arms wrapped around his waist, tightly, you hide away in the crook of his neck. clutching the fabric of his shirt, burrowing your face deeper into his warmth — and you’re not just crying.
you’re downright sobbing.
satoru knew something was off the moment you fell into his embrace, suddenly, tackling him into a hug so desperate it left him reeling. a kind of desperation he isn’t used to, from you.
he knew something was wrong. 
he knew even before he heard it; your choking sobs, those shaky, heaving breaths. muffled into the cotton of his shirt, his uncertain arms around you.
they break his heart.
”hey, hey…” there’s a soothing lilt to his voice, awfully delicate. sweet like molten honey, almost enough to hide the panic. ”what’s wrong?”
satoru holds you to his chest, safe and secure, cradling you protectively. as if shielding you from the world — from whatever or whoever got you like this. as if you’d crumble into dust, otherwise.
he tries to calm down, but his mind is spinning like a broken clock, and your silence doesn’t help. you’re trying to respond; he knows you are, but you just can’t get the words out. any attempts only make you cry harder.
a shake of your head is all he gets — and it’s not much, but satoru’s learned to make a lot out of a little. 
so he continues to hold you, hiding his worry, tucking his anxiety away somewhere you won’t be able to see. he curses, inwardly, grasping blindly for conclusions — for some divine guidance. how is he supposed to deal with this?
(how long has it been since he felt so very useless?)
gentle. that’s the approach he takes, finally, hiding his nervosity. he rocks you back and forth, just a little, like he’s lulling you to sleep; his warm hands finding the small of your back, the back of your head. cradling you so close you hear his rapid heartbeat by your ear.
soothing whispers. murmured into your hair, so soft they seem to melt once they slip from his tongue, all honey and devotion. affection so palpable you taste it in the air, from the breaths he exhales. 
”it’s fine. i’m here, i’m here… i’ve got you.”
he doesn’t know what he’s doing, not really, but it seems to work. because you calm down, after a while, just sniffling into his neck and letting him soothe you. sobs and unstable heaves, turning into whimpers and shaky breaths. clinging to him all the while; so desperate for comfort, for him.
it makes him feel so, so desperate to protect you, to wash every single one of your worries away.
it’s unbearable, this aching desire. like a great, insatiable, unnamed something deep within the caverns of his chest, clawing at his ribcage, snarling and hissing, itching to break out so it can open its maw and devour you both.
(it’s ugly. it’s grotesque. it wants to keep you safe so badly it might kill him for it.)
a coo. sad, dripping with care, a comforting tone that he hopes you’ll find soothing. he smooths his palm down the back of your head, heavy, doting. it hurts so much to see you hurt.
”my baby….” satoru exhales, a little shaky. but he smiles, and he hopes you can hear it, hopes it’ll help mend the pain in your chest. ”what’s got you this upset, hm? you're worrying me, here…”
a broken sniffle. the guilt eats at you, gnaws at your bones, and all you can do is hide away in the crook of his neck. apologizing, your voice no more than a tremor of a breath.
”’m sorry…”
and satoru thinks his heart shatters. he can practically hear the crash, feel the broken, useless little pieces dig into his skin.
his arms travel down to your hips, steady, and he lifts you up. just for a second, just so he can plop down on the floor with you in tow — keeping you snuggled into his neck. seated on his lap with your legs around his waist, like you’re his baby koala.
”shh, it's okay,” he soothes, a grounding rumble of his chest right by your ear. he’s got you enveloped, wrapped up in his buzzing warmth, and all you can feel is him. ”you’re okay. no matter what it is, i'll take care of it, alright? you can rely on me.”
a moment passes. 
satoru clears his throat. nervous, suddenly. ”you know that, right?”
all you can give him is a shaky nod, but it’s enough. he sighs, in palpable relief, still rubbing circles into your back. ”okay,” he sneaks a hand underneath your shirt, tracing little shapes into your bare skin. ”good.”
he isn’t sure how long you spend there, on the floor, entirely focused on comforting you. washing away all your sadness, with every gentle caress, every soothing murmur of there, there… every little stutter of his heartbeat next to yours.
and when you’ve finally calmed down, melting under his touch and into his skin, arms going lax around his neck — satoru takes a breath. collecting himself, so you don’t have to. acting like his heart isn’t still a mess of crushed glass.
”you okay now?” he coos, drawing absentminded hearts into the skin of your back. his voice is teasing, but warm, spilling from his tongue and into your ear. deep and smooth. ”almost gave me a heart attack, baby.”
he feels the way your grip around him tightens, just a smidge, and he hears the weak little breath you draw in. your voice is still shaky, and it makes him want to rearrange the world, stitch those broken vowels back together. 
(he doesn’t like how irrational it is, this insatiable something. how it makes him want to bend the rules of the universe, just to see you smile. a dangerous temptation.)
”i’m sorry,” you croak, clinging to him like a shipwreck to a shore. ”it’s not — not a big deal, ’m just…” 
satoru pulls back. just a little bit, making sure your arms and legs stay in their rightful place, curled around his neck and waist. making sure the two of you stay connected.
then he pinches your cheek.
”don’t apologize,” he quips, a playful frown on his face. soft, a vague furrow of his brows. like he’s scolding you. 
it makes you wince, your eyes downcast. you look so meek. a little like a kicked puppy, glassy eyes glancing up at him in search of comfort.
satoru clicks his tongue. ”and don’t look at me like that, either.” 
he boops your nose, playful, doting, and you exhale weakly. it’s small, more breath than a real laugh, but you’re almost smiling, and —
it’s a start. it’s something.
satoru coos, voice dripping with warmth, sickeningly sweet. it seeps from his fingertips when he cradles your cheek in his palm, rubbing circles into the puffy skin beneath your eyes. there’s a mirth in his own, crinkled at the edges, tucked into that blue shade, something glazed over with pure adoration.
”there’s that smile.” 
he leans forward, closer, to press a kiss against the bridge of your nose, eyelashes fluttering. tickling your skin. you fall further into his embrace and he makes no move to resist, wouldn’t do it even if he physically could. even if he had the strength to let you go.
then he broaches the subject. hesitant. tactful, careful, delicate — he tries to remember how it works. how to handle something fragile. he thinks of those boxes you carried last week, little porcelain cups. heavy in his arms. he thinks of the way you jab his side with your elbow; gentle, always gentle, even though there’s never any need.
he thinks of you, and it all comes easy. that’s how it always goes.
”wanna talk about it?” he asks, softly. fingers treading through your hair, scratching softly at your scalp. it makes you melt, a little. clearing your throat.
”it’s nothing, really,” you mumble, tiny, seeking respite in the warmth that seeps from his body. speaking with a raspy voice, a hoarse throat, all tired out after crying. ”nothing big, anyway…” 
a moment passes, before you continue. ”i guess it's just been a rough week,” you admit, a sigh slipping from your lips, tinged with pure exhaustion. ”just little things piling up. ’m okay now.” 
a hum. satoru clears his throat.
”anything i can do?”
(please let me help.)
but you only shake your head. ”you’ve already done enough,” you assure him, leaning into his touch. ”think i just needed to get it all out, y’know?”
a beat. an itch. satoru holds you tight, a little tighter than he should. gentle, he reminds himself. but he needs you close enough to feel the flutter of your heartbeat, close enough to delude himself that you’ve merged together. closer isn’t close enough.
he gnaws at his bottom lip, teeth sinking into the flesh. pulling words out from the back of his throat, uncertain. ”i’m always here,” he settles on. ”if there’s anything you need, come straight to me. okay?”
a frown plays at your lips. you’re silent, for a while, until he hears you mumble beneath your breath.
”i don’t want to bother you so much, though…”
”— it’s not a bother.”
the words spill into the air, a little more firm than he meant to sound. but he means them.
”i’m serious. if you ever need help, with anything, come find me. i’m yours,” satoru inhales, deep, his chest moving in tune with the breath. you’re carried along with it, as if being lulled to sleep, following the steady pattern of his lungs. 
then he exhales. in, and out, and with it comes a promise. ”if anyone makes you cry, i’ll get rid of them.”
he says it casually, so casually that you assume it’s a joke, a bout of breathless giggles pushing past your lips. the sound has his own curling up, and he doesn’t have the heart to correct you. has enough tact to know that this might not be the best moment to let you know that he’s honestly a little terrified of how far he’d be willing to go to keep you safe and happy. 
but you’re smiling, finally, laughing. and that matters more than anything. when he closes his eyes, he thinks he can even feel the telltale signs that his heart is picking itself back up, gluing jagged shards into a shape that resembles you.
"that's scary!” you gasp, amusement bubbling up inside your throat. ”you’d go to jail for me?”
satoru huffs. ”bold of you to assume i’d get caught,” he tuts, a smug smile on his face. it makes you giggle, again, and he feels like a god.
”okay, okay,”  you nose at his neck, breathing him in, strawberry lotion and laundry detergent filling your senses. ”please don’t kill anyone on my behalf, though.”
”no promises.”
”satoru…”
slowly, steadily, his heart begins to stitch itself together. it helps that you’re there, he thinks. helps that you’re pressed up against him, that you’re holding him, like he’s the safest thing in the world. like you trust him.
(the word tastes like molten honey and luscious berries, sickly-sweet on his tongue. he gulps it down hungrily.)
it’s healing. the weight of your arms around him, the breaths that brush against his neck. he holds you to keep you together, intact, to keep himself together. a shipwreck and a shore — he just isn’t sure which one of you is which. but your jagged edges fit just right with his own.
”i don’t like seeing you cry.”
you blink. gazing up at him, with a contemplative look in your eyes. it melts into something a little too close to guilt for his liking. shame.
”— but i still want you to let me see you like that.” satoru smiles, with a tilt of his head. snowy tufts of hair falling across his face. ”is that weird?”
a moment passes. then you hum.
”no,” you exhale, a little breathless. smiling, somewhat weak, but still enough to have his heart skipping a beat. ”i love that about you, satoru.”
”huh?” he gapes at you — blinking dumbly. ”love what? that i want to see you sob into my chest?”
”that you try,” you stifle a yawn, sleepily nuzzling into him, all tuckered out from crying. ”even when it makes you a little uncomfortable.”
satoru stills. 
silence fills the space between you. there’s nothing more to say. his tongue isn’t really cooperating with him, anyhow — all tied up. so he leaves a kiss on the top of your head, and doesn’t say a word about the tremor running through his chest. 
he hates seeing you cry. hates how powerless it makes him feel, how useless. hates the fact that he can’t always protect you from the world, from himself.
but you let him see you like that.
he thinks of your tears, crystalline and glassy, like translucent marbles on a summer shore — and sees the trust instead of the sorrow. he thinks of your tearstained face, meek and feeble, and knows it’ll always be enough to break his heart to pieces. 
he thinks of you, and tells himself that it’s worth it; just as long as he gets to bring that pretty little smile back to life. 
#jjk#satoru#omg i am so excited i finally got to this ari 🥹🥹 and an x times kind of fic too oh my heart!!!!!!#oh he’s soooo into you 🥺 how his gaze always gravitates towards you i am sOOO my heart is SOOO#‘lives and die by it’ PLSSS reading this is like reading it thru rose tinted glasses!!! his rose tinted glasses!! like a movie in a haze 🥹#your writing is always so incredibly descriptive ari and i love love love that because it paints the scene so so well!!#it describes his emotions so well too — the part on him watching your tears is so pretty ‘crystalline & dew-drawn’ HOW PRETTY#the way the movie reflects on your irises — i love that image so much!!!! its such a vivid picture#satoru not knowing what to do when youre near; his emotions going haywire UUUGH forever a fave concept#and WHEN HE SPEAKS WKNDJEJD I THINK URE JUST SENSITIVE BABY HELLLLLOOOOOSUSJDJISJSJS#‘everything you do is soft’ MY GOSH that’s SO CUTE#anything is better than that irritating itch :((((((( GAWSH i love him#i LOOOOOVE the little descriptors at the start and how they set the mood for the scene omg love love loce#comparing his anger to a cup of chamomile??? oh my god i LOVE that how it simmers and boils omfg ari ur mind#and an angry satoru? oh my god take me tf out LOL IDK iF I CAN TAKE THAT LMAO#slicing the silence in the room into half is an AMAZING description ari omfg#‘dont act like such a child’ MY jaw DROPPED oh my god ari if he ever said that to me id actually cry#that oh fuck is so so loud and i love love love how you described that scene ari omg its so vivid and i could feel his and the readers#emotions thru it !!! i wish i could copy paste it properly but im rdg from my phone rn so 🥲#the idea that he hurts when you hurt is sooo oh my god im such a sucker for that and i think its so true!!#because as much as youre unaccustomed to him acting this way; he’s just as unaccustomed to treating you like this too :((((#oh my god him biting his lips to death :(( everything is meaningless . out of tune :(#see a man who loves you because he does :((( WAAAAH ILL SAWB RN#:(((( it makes him want to rearrange the the world & stitch those broken vowels back together HOW PRETTY#the sheer panic he feels at you sobbing bc he just doesnt know what to do#oh god :(( he thinks of you when he wants to handle you gently :(( bc thats all u rlly are :(( gentle :((#and its insane omg how kinda crazed u can feel he is abt u too. how uve managed to write in the extent of what he’d do just for y#i love the lil banter after 🥺 how he tries to keep things lighthearted still bc thats him!! thats satoru!!!#that dialogue is so tender ‘i dont like seeing u cry but i still want you to let me see u like that’ UGH i love that#:((((( and its that act of. he doesnt like it but he’ll brave it for u!! i love that line of him knowing that itll break his heart
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