#but like. I dunno if I know things well enough to say definitively 'that character is a mod and that one's a rocker' and if they even FIT s

[peppertoastuniverse]

something good – gojo satoru x reader

contents: gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru mention, ieri shoko mention, light angst with LOTS OF FLUFF, mentally strugging softboy!satoru gojo, lots of yearning, 2 pages of making out, slightly suggestive summary: gojo uncovers hidden memories and realises that all he needs is you wc: 3.6k a/n: thank you to the anon who sent this sweet request!

spring time, second year.  “.. it looks like me and you haven’t really changed that much, hey?” he says softly, the fondness for you showing in his younger face all those years before.   even when he didn’t ask, he knew that you would always be there. you were his constant. he didn’t know when he started seeing you in everything he did, if you could see his thoughts, you’d be able to see your smile reflecting back at you.

“satoru?” still concentrating on his nintendo DS, he sighs. he recognizes suguru’s tone, it either going to be a deep question or a fucking stupid one. he rolls over with a groan on suguru’s bed to face his best friend, his book that he was reading lay forgotten on his desk. “yeah?” satoru asks lazily, eyes darting back to his flashing screen. “who do you see yourself as in the future?” oh, here we go. satoru fights the need to roll his eyes. “what do you want for your life?”  “pff, I want to just fucking beat this level.” he says aggravatingly, groaning dramatically as his character dies again. suguru laughs seeing his flashing screen, previous annoyance disappearing instantly, satoru can’t help but grin back – he always liked suguru’s laugh. 

“...don’t you ever think about it though? the future?” the future?

he blinks. blessed with great strength and power, he knew from a young age that that choice wasn’t something that he was lucky enough to have. satoru never had to worry about the future, he had his whole life planned out for him. the thought never saddened him, and why should it? he wasn’t a fool and believed that all things were equal in this world. he was the chosen one, the future of jujutsu society – that was just how life was –  another consequence of being the honoured he supposed. but glancing at suguru’s thoughtful expression, the flicker of hope and despair in his violet eyes, his rough hands winding through his dark hair, it was clear to see that this obviously mattered to suguru. satoru didn’t understand where suguru was going with this but it was just like him to worry about things that didn’t matter. satoru sighs, attention back to his game,  “i dunno, it’s hard to say when we’re already the strongest. what else could you want?” suguru scoffs, shaking his head “you won’t be a teenager forever – you’d better wake up sooner or later, satoru.” satoru jolts awake, moving his blindfold up to rub his eyes irritatedly. 

shit, for once he didnt mean to fall asleep.

still feeling slightly disoriented, he hastily slides off of the couch, moving quickly to his room down the hall. groaning as he glances at the clock in the hall, he sighs hoping to ignore his slightly teary eyes. he was going to be late – you were going to kill him. 

satoru hasn’t been sleeping well lately – not that it was from a lack of effort. he’s tried melatonin pills, exercising before bed, even those sleepy girlie time party mocktails – or whatever you called them – but nothing helped. it definitely wasn’t the endless missions that the irritating higher ups were making him go on, he was used to the workload. maybe he was worried about something. walking quickly through his room, satoru wondered if you were getting enough sleep. did you have dreams too? sleep never seemed to be there when he wanted it. rubbing his face, to fully pull himself into reality, satoru could still feel the remnants of the quiet comfort produced by his unexpected dream. he felt shame at the feeling. guilt in the comfort. 

satoru didnt get a lot of sleep to begin with, but there were times where the extra hours awake weren’t all bad. he might as well be useful, which is how satoru started learning how to cook in the early hours of the morning, proudly surprising tsumiki and megumi with cute bento boxes. he would binge watch a whole tv series at once, determined to tell nanami all about it at jujutsu tech. but he thinks the best use of his time awake was when he was simply seated on the couch with you, listening to you talk about your day until the drowsiness would overtake you and he could just hold you for a little bit. he liked when you came over, tsumiki and megumi liked it too. just last week, when he saw your expression melt when tsumiki begged you to stay for dinner, giving into her like you always have. satoru remembers your grin as you sat next to silently pleased megumi, picking out the tender pieces of chicken from your plate to give him more of his favourite. when you were around satoru noticed that fushiguros were more at ease, and he couldn’t help but think that maybe it would be better if you moved in. but this was uncharted territory – a necessary boundary– protecting you from the rise and fall of his storm. his greed would have to lay dormant in his dreams. 

but the lines were getting blurrier throughout the years. satoru couldnt deny how his face would light up when you’d call him while he was on a lengthy overnight mission. concern smothering the delight in your voice that he was still awake (“satoru! what the fuck, did you even sleep today?”), he’d easy dodge your concerns, covering the fatigue in his voice with teasing remarks and crude jokes to your obvious frown.  “tell me something good, satoru” you’d say, seeing right through him like you always did, voice still laced with sweetness, wanting nothing more than to listen to him talk. 

taking wide strides across his room to throw something on, satoru rustles quickly into his closet grabbing whatever looked clean and appropriate. if he showed up in his crinkled pajamas again to a meeting again, you’d surely cuss him out. his eyebrows crease at the thought of disappointing you, he was supposed to make you smile not stress you out – he made a promise to himself to always look out for you and there you go again worrying about him. 

hastily grabbing the folded dark blue sweater at the back of his closet, blue eyes widen at a box toppling to the floor. its contents dramatically spilling across the cold hardwood floors. 

great. he didn’t have time for this. groaning, he quickly kneels down to right the box, his breathing hitches. 

strewn across his floor, he sees scenes of his missing dreams. photographs of his time at jujutsu tech as a student, his eyes taking in the many photographs that shoko had taken, moments of a simpler past. gathering the pile of photos, he slowly rifles through them – a photo of shoko and him with matching peace signs, a photo of you doing shoko’s hair, blurry photos of suguru chasing after you when you’d steal his cigarettes, snickering photos of him trying to climb suguru like a tree, a photo of you and kento sharing sandwiches. 

another lifetime ago. he picks up the slightly faded photo of himself and you, a reminder of a well loved memory. satoru shakes his head softly at the way you sat on his back while he was sprawled out on the gym mats, his glasses perched at the top of your head acting as a crown on your shit eating face.  satoru cant help but grin at his own small pout in the grainy photo. shoko always had the best timing. you had a bet with suguru that if you could get gojo’s glasses, he would treat you to unlimited free ramen from that nice place in shibuya with the fresh noodles for two months. 

satoru remembered how you’d excitedly roll off him ignoring his grumbling, “toru, you know i had to win! it’s suguru! have you seen how much sugu eats? that fucker would run me dry! but don’t worry, i’ll get him to pay for you too.” 

he never told you that he had let you win of course, not putting up much of a fight, distracted by the smile on your face – so bright that he couldn’t bear to diminish it. you must have had some sort of curse in your smile, even convincing a begrudging suguru into paying for satoru everytime, “sugu, you have to! he’s going to whine and cry, do you really want to deal with that?” 

after that month, satoru never went to back that ramen place again– too sick of it to go back. he could hear the creaking floors when the three of you would arrive,  the smell of the rich broth and the sound of suguru’s laughter when he teased you.   satoru knows you havent had shio ramen since then – you insisted on have ramen for every meal for a month to suguru’s annoyance. perhaps he’d invite you to go eat there again if it was still there. 

somewhere in his mind he thinks he hears the warm sound of your arrival, the jingling of the key that he gave you when the fushiguros first moved in. your usual light steps, heavy now with annoyance. 

“really, satoru?” you yell, annoyance dripping from your sharp tongue. “i’ve been calling you a billion times, this is an important meeting – we can’t be late again. you fucking said you’d be ready by the time i –” you see his still figure hunched at his closet. your eyes narrow in confusion, your tightened fist unclenching at the sight of his still broad back. 

“... satoru?” you call, voice softening as you notice the tension in his shoulders and the unnatural stillness of his too tall body. curiously you creep up behind him, your  slow hands feel his shoulders, the tension cold and heavy in his muscles, your hesitant hands leaving a trail of fire behind them. arms weaving their way around his slender neck, a place that you’ve been before. your eyes take in the photos strewn on the floor, visions of a past life swirling in his cluttered mind. your eyes widen. 

“..’toru?” you try again – more gently – calling him from the abyss, a light in a rough storm. eventually, you feel his large cold hand reach up to gently hold your right hand in response, his blue eyes tear away from the photographs, tousled white hair leaning against your abdomen, his tired eyes looking up at your concerned face. 

“hey.” he greets you, trying to mask his fallen expression with a hollow smile, a carefully practiced defense, something that he developed in childhood but perfected in suguru’s absence. but you knew him well. you knew how his eyebrows would crease or how his lip twitched when he was on the verge of crying.  

the dark rings around his eyes echoes you concern – were they darker than usual? you sigh as you take into account his far away stare, his icy watery eyes. crouching down, all anger forgotten, you look over his shoulder to take a closer look at the photo he’s holding. apologetically you let go of his hand in exchange for the photograph, sitting down beside him instead. you miss his eyebrows furrow slightly missing the comforting squeeze of your hand. a bittersweet smile dancing on your face, you stare at the photo, all words dying on your suddenly too heavy tongue. a photo of a past life, a happier time:  suguru’s exasperated expression contrasting his bright amethyst eyes, face fashioned in a pout as he was sandwiched obnoxiously in between you and satoru. a wild grin decorating your face, mischievous eyes closed in mid laughter at suguru’s grumbling, while satoru pulled bunny ears behind suguru.

“oh god, look at him.” you whisper pointing out suguru’s dark shorter hair when he first arrived at jujutsu tech. you almost forgot what he looked like before he – 

your eyes blink, you didn’t want to think about it. 

satoru scoffs, “i know, doesn’t he look like an idiot?” 

“remember how you’d make fun of him all the time? you were such a bully to him – he really hated you when we started.” you laugh sadly.  

“that’s not my fault, he was fucking asking for it! he kept calling me q-tip! or nepobaby!” he counters, betraying tenderness in his tone. “shut up, i know you liked it when he called you anything close to baby!” you quip back, face denouncing you in a soft grin. a heavy silence invades the intimate space between you two, his absence sitting in between you, his rightful spot now vacant.  suguru. you lean your head on satoru’s shoulder, his arm moving around you to settle at your waist instinctively. you look into his eyes reading him easily: i miss him too. 

suguru’s defection was still a sore spot in your mind. satoru still hasnt been able to say his name out loud, suguru’s name carrying too much weight. you suspected that satoru wanted to carry his best friend with him despite the heaviness, a sense of masochistic comfort. you hoped that he knew that you were always there for him when the time came, you still felt the hurt too. 

but there was a strange sort of solace that still lingered in his name. suguru’s memory was still soft if you focused but the pain caused by his name was still sharp and rough around the edges. when was the last time you and satoru spoke this openly about him?

the memory still hurt. a wound that would reopen at any given movement, unable to heal, cutting deeper as time went by. 

mercifully sensing the pounding of your heavy heart, satoru clears his throat and fishes out another photo in the messy pile. a photo of shoko and himself, a cigarette dancing on shoko’s lips, gojo looking at her in mid conversation. 

“ewww – look at you here.” you point out, wrinkling your nose, “this really wasnt your best haircut...” 

he scoffs, the twinkle in his eyes showing you his amusement.  “you’re the one who did it – ”

“oh fuck, right!” you laugh, thinking about the very first time satoru begged you to cut his hair – shoko was away on a rare mission–  yelping at you when you closed your eyes in nervousness, resulting in an uneven cut. you both remembered how shoko laughed so hard she cried when she saw him. you definitely didn’t cut his hair this time, admiring his soft locks and even trim. you move your generous hands to comb through his soft hair gently, enjoying the feeling of his undercut under your slow hands. he closes his eyes, a please sigh escaping his lips, tension immediately easing from his body.

“it’s better now though, hey? makes me even more handsome,” he teases, his eyes still closed. 

“nah, still ugly. brings out your buggy eyes. ‘m so glad you started wearing the blind fold.” you mutter, still playing with his hair absentmindedly. 

ignoring his whine, you laugh, “wow, shoko still looks amazing though.. look at her cute little cheeks! I forgot how she used to put pins in her hair like that.” previous annoyance disappearing instantly, satoru can’t help but grin back – he always liked your laugh. 

he watches while a strange far away expression infiltrates your face, picking up a photo, edges creased contrasting the vividness of his memory. shoko and suguru smiling at the camera, while you and satoru were in mid conversation smiling at each other. spring time, second year. 

“.. it looks like me and you haven’t really changed that much, hey?” he says softly, the fondness for you showing in his younger face all those years before.  

even when he didn’t ask, he knew that you would always be there. you were his constant. he didn’t know when he started seeing you in everything he did, if you could see his thoughts, you’d be able to see your smile reflecting back at you. your presence somehow simultaneously exciting him and putting him at ease. maybe it started when you stole his glasses in first year, or the countless detentions you both got in. surely, it must have been the night that suguru left. in the darkness he wasn’t sure who was holding who, your tears mixing with his as you clung to him in your sleep.

maybe it was when you showed up at megumi’s school when he first got into a fight even though you were in the middle of a mission last month, a fire in your eyes. or maybe it was when you comforted tsumiki when she came home upset over a fight with one of her friends. maybe it was in the way you talked her through it, rubbing her back gently while you listened to her through her teary words. or when you ate all his mochi yesterday, cheekily claiming “you said you’d share, satoru!” whenever it started, he knew that something different was blossoming into maturity in the past few months – something that he never knew could be a possibility –  let alone for someone like him. 

“we should take an updated photo, we never have photos of just us,” you decide, turning to face him fully. “my phone or yours?” he asks, eyes still the photo, breathing in the way you smiled at him all those years ago. unchanged. 

“mhm, yours.” you say as he digs his phone out of his back pocket. “i want a good one, ‘kay toru?? i dont need any more photos of you sticking your tongue out..” you mutter, scooching closer to him. “oy, come closer – you’re so far,” you whine, grabbing his forearm urging him to get closer for a better photo. 

“c’mere then..” he mutters, gently shuffling you so that you’re sitting in his lap, as you hum in content at the warmth of his skin against yours. he easily drowned you, this familiar place, his familiar embrace. yet this time you felt the tide shift, something softer, vulnerable – the calm waters after a storm.  you lean your head to his as you both smile for the camera as the shutter echoes through the room. 

moving impossibly closer to you, he turns his head towards you, his phone lay forgotten on the floor. sensing his stare you turn your head to his, eyes questioning his soft gaze. as the air grows thicker bursting with the weight of years of fondness and poorly hidden desires, your eyes flicker to the curve of his lips. breathing the same air as him, you feel light headed, drunk off the very presence of him.   

inching closer he feels his soft lips meet yours, a fluttering feeling, hesitant and foreign but firm and sure. you easily wind your arms around his neck, sighing as you pull him closer, jumping into the deep end when you’ve been wading in the shallows for years. he effortlessly maneuvers you to straddle his lap, large hands pressing against your back, pulling you closer to meld his heart to yours, his hands begging to memorize the feeling of you. 

too preoccupied drowning in him, you hesitantly break away from him to breathe, only to rest your forehead on his. grounding yourself in the feeling of his warm breath on your cheek, uneven and heavy, your erratic heartbeat threatens to break the fragile silence. the air grew hot and heavy, buzzing with anticipation and nerves.  satoru bumps his slender nose with your playfully, causing you to grin. a relieved smile dancing on his face in reply, a silent conversation dancing in his eyes, a celebration of his love, a proclamation of his devotion to you, an apology for waiting this long, an admission of forever. 

needing to feel more of him, you move your hand to cup his flushed cheek, the sweetness in his skin grounds you once more – satoru was always the question and the solution wound tightly into one. confessions of the past and future swirling in his blue, you meet the weight of his tender gaze like you were carrying the strongest’s life in your very hands. his skin burning with your touch, you greedily move to kiss him to soothe the ache, swallowing his smile in your greed. 

melting with the reassurance of his lips to yours like a signature on a previously forgotten love letter, you wonder how you lasted this long without his lips on yours. you bite back a pleased smile as he reciprocates eagerly, deepening the kiss, tongues dancing, his soft lips moving in tandem with a bruising promise to always be yours if you let him. when your hands weave through his hair, a dark purr escaping his throat, reverberating through your core. his arm grips you tightly as his other hand moves to settle at the nape of your neck, feeling your heart beat in sync through his flushed skin. 

breathlessly, with great effort two magnets part, your hands loosening your grip on his soft t shirt. breaths tangling together, drinking in each other. 

still intoxicated by the feeling of you, satoru can’t help but nuzzle into your warmth, his forehead finding yours once more. his eyes still on your swollen lips, evidence of his want, his mind already on the thought of kissing you again, like he would die without the feeling. “y’okay?” you mumble, heaving chest enjoying his touch. 

he chuckles at the absurdity of your question, you should know by now that he was always okay as long as you were with him – the only time that he feels he would get better is when you were there. 

“hey – don’t laugh…” you mutter suddenly embarrassed by his stare, a deeper blush finding a way onto your cheeks emphasizing your growing pout. laughing fully now, his strong arms bring you closer as they wind around your waist sweetly.

unable to resist, you lightly kiss his jawline as his wandering hands brush some hair out of your face. “hmph, you’re such a dick and after everything i do for you too…” you playfully whisper without malice, leaning into his broad chest, rolling your eyes.

“mm.. how should i make it up to you?” he mumbles, slender hand tilting your chin up to force your gaze to look at him. as you bravely meet his tender gaze, you notice that something different was in his eyes.

“damn, i gotta help you with that one too?” you tease, giggle blooming in your throat as he kisses your nose gently. “well… i have a few ideas.” he hums, moving to kiss you fully, slow and sweet savouring you. “you always do…” you mutter, eyes on his grinning lips. 

perhaps now he could answer suguru’s question he thought as you move to rest your head on his shoulder. satoru knew he wanted you. holding you in his arms now, feeling your shy smile on his neck –  he knew that you were something good.

requests are open a/n: they did not make it to the meeting lol ngl this request was tough, but i loved the challenge of writing my first smoochie smoochie scene. reposting this as a stand alone piece for maintenance.

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[jazzyoranges]

Saw you take requests!! Can you do a fluffy Wednesday x Shape shifter!Reader (no smut please) where it's Wednesday's writing time but she can't think of ideas so reader turns into a cat and curls up on Wednesday's lap? Basically helping Wednesday by making sure Wednesday can't get up until she writes a chapter. Thanks!

Orange kitty - drabble

Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Words: 0.8k

A/n: i feel like we as a fandom haven’t been putting the orange cat x black cat trope in enough fics. this is me advocating for orange cat!r

“I feel your eyes on me, (Y/n).”

“I’m not allowed to look at my friend anymore?”

“It’s distracting. You’re inhibiting me from writing.” Wednesday isn’t fully lying. She just doesn’t add how you give her an odd feeling. An odd feeling she doesn’t like.

“Aww, do I make you nervous, Wens?” You laugh, deciding to ignore the glare she sends your way

“Keep talking and I’ll remove your voice box.”

“Please, I think you’d miss me too much” You roll your eyes, stretching on Wednesday’s bed

You turn into a cat as per Thing’s request, and you two start to play tag around Wednesday and Enid’s shared room. Thing happily bragged that you and him were better friends once. His hubris only resulted in Wednesday taking away his favorite lotions for an entire week.

The Addams girl huffs when she, yet again, makes a mistake on her typewriter. This was unlike her. The tiny trash can under her desk was nearing being full only after one or two hours of her failed attempts at writing. Wednesday put her hands in her lap after she realized her words only became futile

The abrupt stop of clacking keys makes you turn your head, giving Thing the perfect opportunity to tag you back on Enid’s bed. You quickly turn human again with almost a cartoon-ish pop, and ask Thing if Wednesday was allergic to cats

“She’s not, why do you ask?” He signs

“Do you think she’d kill me if I sat on her lap?” You sign back, not wanting Wednesday to hear

“As a human, most definitely. But if you were a cat maybe she’d tolerate you. No promises, though” Thing somehow shrugs using his thumb and pinkie finger as arms. God, you loved the weird appendage

“I can hear you two talking. I’d prefer if you’d leave me in silence.”

“Writers block?”

“No, I’m merely thinking of the correct words to use.”

“Maybe you should ask Enid for help. The woman can reach over the Twitter character limit in like… three seconds. Two if she’s really excited”

“Recommend such a horrid idea again and I’ll release you in my pen of hellhounds.”

“We both know I’d win” You cockily smirk, again ignoring what looks to be annoyance on Wednesday’s face. Then again, she always looked annoyed

“Your hubris is laughable. Let’s see how you suffice when your digestive system is ripped open.”

“Tempting, but I’d rather stay here with you”

You can only assume Thing listens with watchful… fingers? You execute your plan to him, and a quick pinkie-promise indicates he gets to bury you if Wednesday decides to kill you after the stunt you’re about to pull

“Hey, Wens?” The Addams doesn’t show any form of talking but you decide to keep going

“Did you know people say cats can lessen anxiety?”

The Addams hums in acknowledgement, so you continue

“Well, I don’t exactly believe it”

“And why is that.” Wednesday sighs. Sometimes she wonders why she indulges in you

“I dunno, just seems fake. I was wondering if you’d do an experiment with me?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Great! Thanks, Wens” You give Thing a quick wink after turning into a cat and hopping up onto her desk. Turning your head to the side as if you were asking a question, you looked at Wednesday for an answer

You were crazy, but not crazy enough to do something to make Wednesday hate you

For some reason, the Addams girl doesn’t even have a second chance to think before scooting back her chair. You’re about to jump into her lap with a paw over the edge of her desk, but you glance up to make sure Wednesday was sure. You receive a small nod

The action is enough to make you whisper a small “thank you” but it only comes out as a small meow

You circle around her lap for a good area to lay, and you quickly take your spot with a tiny smile that makes your eyes close. Wednesday scoots her chair back in, and she has absolutely no idea what to do.

Only when you start to purr a shiver goes up her spine. The vibrations are light, and something about you happily laying on her lap makes you chip away at Wednesday’s walls the tiniest bit. She contemplates where to put her hands before Thing scurries on top of you to scratch behind your ear. Wednesday shoots him a deathly glare in return, but your favorite Addams (don’t tell Wednesday) stays put

As if showing Wednesday how to pet a cat, Thing gets off of your back and points a finger in your direction. Hesitantly, the Addams girl copies the actions Thing showed her

And you? You were having an amazing time. Wednesday’s fingers were cold but every stroke of her hand was calculated. She took note of which spots you purred louder, and continued her movements

Fuck you and your ability to get what you want, Wednesday thinks. Of course your smug ass knew cats lessened anxiety. Of course.

But Wednesday can’t help being addicted to your tiny purrs and vibrations

With her left hand fondling your ear and her right on her typewriter, she decides maybe a cat could be arranged in her novel.

[o-sachi]

Nose Boops - Drabble for WinBre Week!

ᯓ something's suspicious about sakura... time to find out why ᯓ character; sakura haruka (wind breaker) ᯓ tags; fluff, tsundere sakura, afab reader, no y/n

[🐟]: for day 4 - accidental pet acquisition prompt! @windbreakerweek

Sakura's been acting strange.

Like reaaaaaally strange.

He was supposed to walk with you back home today, but somehow he suddenly has to patrol at that exact time. You knew his patrol schedule like the back of your own hand and you were certain that he didn't have to patrol. Besides, you knew Hiragi wasn't the type of guy to stray from fixed routines.

Anyway, you didn't like doubting him, so you asked Nirei. One text message and you confirmed that... Sakura was lying to you.

At first, you didn't know what to feel. Sakura was the most honest person that you knew and even if he did lie—he was way too obvious. But then again, it's always the person that you least expect to do you wrong.

Instead of walking straight back home later that day, you decided to investigate a bit. You checked out the usual streets that their team would roam around in. But nothing. You saw a couple of Furin boys, but none of them were familiar to you.

You even checked the cafe and asked Kotoha if he had been there. But still no luck. It was then you figured that maybe he was already at home. If he wasn't there either... well, that's definitely a cause for concern.

Part of you was incredibly nervous with what was waiting for you at his place, but all that worry dissipated in an instant at the sight that greeted you: Sakura walking the little puppy that you two found on the side of the street a week ago.

He had a small smile on his face, one that he reserved only for you (sometimes for his friends too, but he won't admit it). Sakura even bought the little thing a new collar and leash. You weren't exaggerating when you thought it was the most adorable thing ever.

Soon enough, he noticed your presence. His smile shifted into a flustered frown. "W-what are you doing here?" he asks, pointing at you.

You walk over to them, a toothy grin on your face. "Oh, I dunno... maybe I just wanted to see what my boyfriend was so busy with. But it's definitely not because of patrolling."

"Shaddap..."

He turns to look away, hoping to hide the rosiness of his cheeks. But as he looks away, the puppy takes notice of you and rubs her tiny head against your leg.

Crouching down, you pat her softly. "Aww, hey there. Is he taking good care of you hm?"

The dog can't really speak, but with the way it's wagging its tail—tells you that she loves her new owner.

"He can be a bit scary sometimes, but he's the biggest sweetheart. Don't you think so?"

Sakura clicks his tongue. "Stop talking about me with Momo."

"Momo?"

His cheeks turn into a deeper shade of scarlet. He was biting down on his lower lip so hard that you wouldn't be surprised if it just started bleeding.

"T-the dog... Momo," he replies. As much as he tried to keep his cool, he was certainly failing at it. Even though you two have been going out for a few months now, it still wasn't that difficult to render him into a blushing mess.

"You named her?"

"How would I talk to her if I didn't?"

Point. You turned to look back at the dog, smiling warmly at her. "Your name's Momo huh? That's cute," you say before booping her nose.

You stand back up and face Sakura who was struggling to look you in the eye. He opens his mouth to speak only to stop. But he tries again.

"Don't even start and tease m—"

Boop. You just booped his nose—the same way you did with Momo.

It left his jaw hanging, unsure if you really just did what you did. With his brows furrowed, he picks up the dog in his arms. You wanted to be serious just like him, but you found it hard to maintain your composure at such an unusual (but lovely) sight.

"Keep teasing me and I won't let you go near her. No petting... defintiely no booping."

He says all that with a straight face. And off he goes—back inside his humble abode with his little friend in his clutches.

For a guy that refused to take in that dog a week ago... he sure has taken quite a liking for her.

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Would you mind talking more about Ghost? I dig your interpretation on him so i'm curious if you'd share your thoughts; since i know how COD in general writes these characters and we know romance isn't on the table for them, ESP for someone like Ghost (even confimred by his voice actor too!)

So all that aside, in your opinion, what would it take to win Ghost's heart (or well, Simon's)? :)

It's great to hear you like my interpretation of Ghost! I'll gladly share my thoughts on this, the supposed love life of Simon Riley is one of my favorite subjects 🧐

Thoughts on what would it take to win Simon's heart under the cut ->

To be honest I see it highly unlikely that Ghost would date. I think Samuel Roukin's opinion on this matter was spot on. Simon's traumatic background, trust issues, the need to stay anonymous and his profession as a special ops soldier is just too heavy a combo. His family's murder and multiple betrayals have pushed him on a path of extreme independence and made him evade any kind of attachment.

That being said... I'm a hopeless romantic and love to imagine scenarios just like every other little simp here 🩷💋, and I've pictured (and occasionally written) him to be drawn to someone who is principally the opposite of himself, but who also has a dash of angst in their heart and firsthand experience or at least some basic understanding of complex trauma.

A positive vibes only/sunshine type of person would not resonate well with his darkness, and a carefree joker would only annoy him. Then again, there's Soap – but the thing with John MacTavish is that he shares the same profession and in that way, is not a stranger to the Underworld. Their banter is also evidence enough that Soap is not afraid of Ghost's madness and even looks up to him – actually a perfect way to make someone like Ghost enjoy your company. This man has a terrible praise kink but he can't stand spineless bootlickers. So the adoration should happen in a "I trust you and would follow you to hell & back" kind of way.

However, due to the shit he's been through, I'd say (contrary to popular headcanon, I dunno?) that Simon would likely fall for someone outside the military world. First of all, he's very uncomfortable with the fact that his partner has to fear for his safety. But the fear of losing his partner to the dangers of this profession would be a little too much. It would only trigger a shitload of PTSD stuff. The fear of losing a loved one again would override the mutual experience and bonding through warfare, all the elements which otherwise might be pull factors in a military love interest. On the other hand, people with traumatic backgrounds tend to repeat the pattern, no matter how horrific or unsafe, simply because it's familiar. Still, I'd say someone from the base personnel would be a more alluring option for him. The shared hell, so to say, could make the foundations of this relationship quite dark. Not that it's necessarily a bad thing!

Deep down, Simon would be attracted to softness. Not innocence, per se, just something different from the realm in which he operates. This is why I think he could definitely fall for "a normie". He would appreciate dark humor and a certain kind of fearlessness, however. What ultimately would win his heart is someone who can stand, even cherish, his melancholy and cynicism and life choices and who is not on a quest to change or "fix" him.

I think Simon's ultimate wish is to find a home because he has lost it (or hasn't really had one in the first place). He's a leader and has to provide safety and support on a daily basis to the people under his command. But who offers support and safety to him? He knows how to protect people but doesn't know how to create a safe space, so he would appreciate someone who makes him feel he's finally found his way home. I think he yearns for a small measure of peace and a slice of normal life to wash away the adrenaline and blood and filth, he wants a small corner free from the demons that haunt him, even if he would reluctantly (if ever) admit that he does.

[suzukiblu]

👉👈 do you have any more of the dubcon ( ;3c dubKON lol) tim//kon thing with the pining kon?

. . . I actually am not even sure what fic you're referencing so maaaaaybe I have written too many fics, lol.

But like, here's an excerpt from something that at least fits that definition?

Superboy fucking hates Gotham.

Well, not necessarily Gotham, but definitely the Riddler and probably Poison Ivy and, like . . . whoever the fuck else decided to set up a goddamn murder-box puzzle room and lock him in it with a drugged-out-of-his-mind Robin and the worst set of instructions ever.

And especially he hates the fact that apparently the whole damn mess was fucking livestreamed.

"This sucks," he mutters under his breath. Robin stares at him from the other side of the briefing table in the middle of the Batcave, because of course Superboy's first time in the Batcave would only happen because he'd fucked up. Like–of course it would.

"I sexually assaulted you in a supervillain deathtrap in front of the entire internet," Robin says very, very carefully. "And we only survived the experience because said deathtrap had faulty wiring. And that . . . 'sucks'?"

"I mean, very much so, yes," Superboy says. Honestly he's more annoyed about the deathtrap than anything else. Like, he tried really hard to solve that stupid puzzle of Riddler's and it's really annoying that he apparently got it wrong. Which–okay, he was pretty distracted at the time because drugged-up Robin had refused to settle for a handy and had basically bullied him into going down on him, but still. That asshole Riddler and his lame-ass bowler hat had been very fucking clear about how said drugs weren't gonna wear off without Robin getting off and how they'd had very limited time to solve his stupid puzzle in, so Superboy had just kinda tried to . . . multitask it, basically. He'd let out-of-his-mind Robin shove him down and fuck his mouth and just kept his hands on the floor so he could use his TTK a little easier and tried to solve the stupid puzzle with it, just in case Robin wasn't gonna snap out of it fast enough.

It'd very literally been a puzzle, for whatever reason–like one of those weird abstract-looking 3D ones–and probably would've been a lot easier to figure out if he'd actually been able to see it as opposed to having to rely on his TTK feeling it out while the whole thing was all wired up to the table on the opposite side of the deathtrap room, but apparently it hadn't even fucking mattered anyway because of whatever that one fucked up bit in the wiring had been. So like . . . Superboy basically violated a guy he barely knows and already had weird feelings about for no fucking reason whatsoever.

So yeah. This definitely sucks.

"I called you a whore," Robin says, his face absolutely expressionless. Superboy makes a face at him more to be contrary than anything else. "Multiple times. You asked me to stop yanking your hair so hard and I called you a mouthy bitch. And then I yanked your hair harder."

"I mean, I know, I was there," Superboy says, raising an eyebrow at him. And also, like, those are accurate assessments of his character, so . . .

"I made you get down on your knees and shoved my dick in your mouth," Robin stresses, his jaw going tight. "Which was livestreamed and is now on the internet. Where it will never go away. Ever. And anyone who feels like it can just go and google it."

"They probably shouldn't, I'm assuming that'd count as underage porn," Superboy says with a shrug. "At least, I'm not eighteen yet, dunno about you. Actually I'm like . . . two, max. Probably not even that. Although I dunno, I was sixteen-ish when I got out of Cadmus, maybe I do count as eighteen by now? Technically?"

Robin gets up and goes over to the trash can by the computer and throws up in it. Superboy . . . blinks.

"Uh," he says. "You okay, man?"

"No," Robin says. Then he throws up in the trash can again.

Awkward, Superboy thinks, trying not to wince.

[kopivie]

trick-or-treat.

# — pairing: spidey!kazuha x gn!reader

# — characters: gender neutral reader, spider-man!kazuha

# — warnings: a little suggestive.

# — tags: fluff, kisses (bc who am i if not a madman for kisses), mild hurt/comfort, BANTER YIPPEE!!, this is zuzu's way of making up for the fact that he all but forgot kazuha's birthday, apology fic

# — notes: (PLEASE READ!!) this is... not at all what i intended to do. it's 1:30 am and i just came down from a much needed high. as my head cleared, i noticed that this fic was like, riddled with flaws, but i feel too good about this to second guess it and feel bad. anyways, this is heavily inspired by this fic that 🎻 anon sent in my asks, as well as a follow-up to this fic i wrote on @awlumii last year on kazuha's birthday. i hope you enjoy and please do let me know what you think! i could really use some feedback.

✦ — 🎃 — ✦

There's a knock on your door. You stare at the entry to your apartment and think: "How mean would it be if I ignored them right now?"

In your defense, you've been giving out candy all day. All. Day. You figured that there would at least have been a lull in the early afternoon since children had school to attend, but no — you've been giving out candy to all ages from as early as 10:30 this morning. It's a good thing you stocked up on candy late last month, otherwise you would've had to ruin the days of some very enthusiastic trick-or-treaters. So after setting aside a bucket full of your favorites and giving out the leftovers until about 10 at night, you finally thought yourself ready to curl up on your bed with your softest blanket. You were halfway to dreamland when some monster started pounding on your door.

(So maybe you're exaggerating a little. But who could blame you? You're tired and you want to sleep.)

And so, here you sit, your legs half-tangled in your weighted fleece blanket as you glare at your door and hope that your unwanted visitor is telepathic and gets the message that you want them to leave. Scram! you think. You raise your voice in your head. Get out of here. Shoo! Begone!

…They knock again. (Kind of a dick move if they can read minds.)

The groan you let out is obnoxiously loud and is most definitely heard by whoever is on the other side of the door. You hoist yourself to your feet and trudge to the door, but you don't open it quite yet. Judging by the fact that this person has yet to say anything, you figure that they're old enough to know when their presence is not welcome and left.

Wrong. You're too optimistic. They knock again.

You sigh and once again, hope that the sound carries through the door. "Who is it?" You try to make yourself sound as unfriendly as possible. Considering how cranky you are, you don't have to try very hard.

"Trick-or-treat..?" The voice on the other side is muffled by the door, but also by something else. Fabric, probably. All you know is that their voice is deep enough to be an adult's.

You click your tongue. "Trick." You almost snicker. It's a little refreshing not doling out treats for once. "Go home."

"Can I at least give you a treat?" The person asks.

You blink. They didn't leave? "Pretty sure that's not how it works," you reply. "I give you treats and you… I dunno, TP my house or something."

"Yeah, well," the person at the door chuckles, "I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to say 'trick', either. Since you're breaking the rules, it's only fair that it's my turn, right?"

Well… Shit. They have a point.

Impressed by the stranger's reasoning, you hum. "Fine. Let me find my costume." You turn to gather your costume and notice that you can't find the full thing. You were so eager to get to bed that you didn't hesitate to drop the thing in the wash. Not wanting to make the stranger wait too long, you improvise. You blindly grab the mask and the blue throw blanket you have folded up on your couch and tie it around your shoulder like a cape. It's a shitty excuse for a costume, but you reason that your exhaustion is a good excuse. You swing open the door and cross your arms over your chest. "Alright, what do you got for-- Oh."

Standing on the other side of your door is none other than Spider-Man himself. The two of you stand in silence as you take in each other's appearances. Then, after what feels like forever, he speaks. "So… a cape, huh?"

You don't hesitate — you grab your door and swing the thing shut as fast as you can, but Spider-Man is faster, catching the door in his gloved hand. You turn your back to him. The mask is obscuring his face, but you already know what expression he has underneath. "Don't say a word." You warn him.

Spider-Man pays you no mind. You can feel him lifting your 'cape' as he inspects it. "Hmm… capes are kinda aerodynamic, but considering how dirty my enemies fight, I don't think that's a very good design choice." You can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice. "I'll give it a five out of ten."

"I said shut it!" You snatch your blanket out of his hands and march further into your apartment with Spider-Man's laughter following at your back. He walks inside and the door shuts behind the two of you. "Get the fuck out, webhead," you seethe. Your voice trembles with shame. "I didn't invite you in."

Spider-Man just walks around you to look you in the eye. "Come now, lovebug," he tilts your chin up with a finger, "you look cute wearing my mask."

You grumble and push his hand away as you struggle for words. You want to say something like, "this isn't what it looks like!" to try and save face, but there's no point in trying. This is exactly what it looks like.

Because the mask you'd been wearing for Halloween -- and the mask you haphazardly thrown on moments ago -- was none other than Spider-Man's mask.

To be fair, these things were a dime a dozen. The people of this city adore the vigilante. It was only natural that kids and adults alike would want to pretend to be him for a day, even if they had no powers like him. You're not exactly one of those people — you've seen firsthand just how brutal Spider-Man's job can be. You wouldn't trade your life for his even if you were offered money. But as you stared at the costume while shopping, you couldn't help yourself. There were obviously cooler, much more interesting costumes to choose from but this one just… called to you.

Hindsight is 20/20, after all. You should've ignored that calling.

Spider-Man takes your chin in his fingers and shakes your head side to side. "I never knew you liked me so much, lovebug. I'm touched."

You scoff. "Don't be."

"Y'know, if you wanted to wear my mask so badly, you could've just asked." Spider-Man leans in and presses a clothed kiss to your cheek. You consider yourself lucky; he can't possibly feel the burn of your cheeks through all that fabric.

You stammer. "Ha-ha. Very funny."

"What? I'm sure I have a back up somewhere." He eyes you for a moment. "You'd look good in it."

Against your will, you wonder if he's saying that he wants you to wear his clothes. Would he ever actually loan you clothes that he's worn? The thought makes your face burn hotter. "Why are you here?" You ask. Anything to change the topic.

Spider-Man chuckles, but plays along. "I haven't swung by in a few days," he says, "so I figured I'd try and surprise you as a trick-or-treater." He shrugs. "I wanted to do some reverse psychology thing where I could trick you into thinking I was just some guy in a costume so you would give me candy."

You process his words for a second. "Okay, first of all, you already are a guy in a costume."

He visibly deflates and places a hand over his chest. "Ouch, lovebug. What if you hurt my feelings?"

"Second of all," you continue, "do you have any idea how many Spider-Men I've seen today?"

"...Is that a serious question?"

"Don't be a smart ass."

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess twelve."

You pause. You actually aren't even sure if that's the right number or not. You lost count after three hours of giving out candy to cute kids.

"Am I right?" He asks.

"Who knows?"

Spider-Man huffs. "If there's that many of us around, then what am I even here for?" You giggle at his petulant behavior, and he makes another breathy sound, reminiscent of a stifled laugh. "Did you treat them the same way you treat me?"

"What?" His question takes you off-guard for a moment. You chortle. "Oh, definitely."

"You gave them band-aids and kicked them out, too?"

"Mhm." You cross your arms. "Just slapped a few on some pretend wounds and told them to get the fuck off my property."

The two of you laugh together for a moment. Once the laughter dies down, Spider-Man tugs at your cheek for a brief second. You let him get away with it for now. "You're so cute." He sighs and you can hear something somber enter his tone. "I was worried about you. It's been a week since I've seen you."

It has been a week, hasn't it? You may have been swamped with work at the hospital, but there was never a night that you didn't find yourself waiting on your balcony like an idiot in this chilly weather. You had faith that he was okay — the Daily Bugle printed something new about the "masked menace" every day this past week — but that didn't stop you from longing for his presence. Stories can't compare to the real thing, after all. You're far more taken with the masked vigilante than you'd care to admit to yourself.

You hum. "About time someone else did the worrying for once," you mumble jokingly. "It gets tiring worrying all by myself."

Spider-Man stays quiet. "I've been okay. A little worse for the wear for the past two days, but okay otherwise."

You reach for him instinctively. "Lingering pain isn't like you," you say, already in doctor-mode, "did something happen?"

"No, not like that. I've just been… sad. I guess." His confession is soft as he takes your outstretched hands in his own. He's been more vulnerable around you lately and you're not sure if that's good or bad. "It's been a rough couple of days, that's all."

You rack your brain. What could possibly be paining him that you don't know of? He's already told you that he tells you everything (within reason), so maybe it's something that you already know of? You furrow your brows as you dive deeper into your memory. Deeper, deeper… until you happen across a memory from just about a year ago.

The kiss you shared on your balcony close to midnight.

"Oh my God." You voice your incredulity aloud. "Oh my God! I missed your birthday!"

Spider-Man straightens his posture as he inhales sharply.

How could you have forgotten? He confessed to you on his birthday last year that you were the only person he had left in his life since he hated his birthday so much. October 29th was such a painful day for him — to think that you didn't stop for a second to wonder if he was okay that day. It's not like you would've been able to contact him of course, but what if he swung by after you'd fallen asleep? You should've at least left him a note or something.

"Don't beat yourself up over it, lovebug." The confidence is starting to bleed out of him, you notice. Spider-Man walks over to your couch and sits on the floor in front of it. "I'll be okay. It's not like I was going to celebrate or anything."

You move to the couch and adjust yourself so that the vigilante is between your legs. You two often assume this position when you're finished patching him up and too tired to goof around until he leaves. You would place your hands on his head and press your fingers into the fabric of his mask. Spider-Man told you once that the action was soothing, but you have yet to admit to him that it's your way of trying to conjure up an image of what his hair must look like underneath.

Like always, he gets himself into position, draping his arms across your legs. This time, however, he's looking up at you. You're not sure what expression he might be wearing.

"I wasn't saying that we should've celebrated," you say softly. "I'm just upset that you had to be alone. Are you sure you're okay?" You ask as you massage your fingers across the crown of his head.

He hums. "I am now. I promise."

"If you're ever feeling down, you know you can come and see me." Your words surprise the both of you, but you don't regret them at all. He always seems to be around when you need his company the most, so why shouldn't you do the same for him? Who else would? your mind unhelpfully supplies. "I may not be the best company in the world, but at least you won't be alone, right?"

Spider-Man moves so that he's on his knees facing you. He's so close to your face like this; you inch backwards to preserve your sanity. "You're the only company I need." He says it with so much conviction that you shiver. "But does this mean I'm getting special treatment?"

"What--? You mean from the other Spider-Men?" When he nods, you snort. "Yeah, I guess you do get V.I.P privileges. You get extra treats unlike everyone else."

"Extra?" He tilts his head. "But you haven't given me any candy at all."

You raise a brow. "All that's left is the candy I'm hoarding for myself. And before you ask, no, I'm not sharing any. Why don't you try actually trick-or-treating? People would probably give the city hero the best of the best."

He sinks a little lower, seeming defeated. "...Would you believe me if I said I tried that already?"

"Did it work?"

He's silent.

"...It didn't work, did it?"

"...No. They thought I was just some superfan."

Peals of laughter burst out of you at his admission. "So this is how they repay you, huh?" You say between giggles. "No faith and no candy? That's rough, buddy." You get the distinct impression that he's glaring at you, but that only makes you laugh harder.

Fed up with your insistence on laughing at his misfortune, Spider-Man taps your leg. "Since I get special treatment from you, can I ask for a few wishes?"

You wipe a stray tear from your eye. "I'm dressed as a superhero, not a magic genie."

"Please?"

"Fine, fine." You finally catch your breath. "You get two wishes.

"Not three?"

"I'm not a genie. Don't push it."

Spider-Man puts his hands up in defense. "Alright, two it is. The first is… let me stay with you for the rest of the night."

You shrug. Wouldn't be the first time. He's usually gone by the time you wake up, anyhow. "Granted. Next one's your last — make it count, bug boy."

Spider-Man doesn't react to your nickname. Instead, he just stares at you. A familiar sensation tickles up your spine. He's watching you; you know that stare all too well. "I think you know what I'm going to ask for next." His voice is deeper, smoother than it was mere moments ago.

You nod and he eases himself closer to you. You feel your heart pick up an unsteady rhythm and rather than kiss him normally, you lean in close and press your masked lips to his. He makes a surprised noise before he laughs and melts into the "kiss" all the same. When you pull away, he's still laughing. A very welcome change from the bitter smile you're sure he was wearing when talking about his birthday. "Consider that a freebie," you mutter.

"You're too kind," he chuckles.

Soon, your fingers come to the base of his mask to raise it just above his lips when he suddenly stops you. He reaches for your face and you feel something tug at the base of your neck. Somehow, you completely forgot you were wearing that stupid mask. "It's kinda funny," he half-laughs, "having to unmask you for once."

"You... You can't tell anyone about my identity, okay?" You tease.

Spider-Man rolls your mask up just enough to expose your lips and you do the same to him. Neither of you are sure who leaned in first, but you meet in the middle in a kiss that has fireworks bursting behind your lids. The two of you are greedy, pouring a week's worth of longing into the kiss. The mutual yearning is palpable, so much so that you can hear his breath hitch when you sigh. He rises to the couch slowly and without breaking the kiss, doing his best not to part from you for even a second.

You missed him. Oh, how you missed him — you missed how he would wrap a strong arm around your waist and pull you closer like it was nothing; how he would whisper his adoration for you between breaths; how he would chase after your lips whenever you would tease him with barely-there kisses. You missed the exhilaration, the thrill of knowing that you were the only one Spider-Man would ever treat this way. That you were his and he was yours.

He moves from your lips to your jaw, trailing kisses up to your ear and down to your neck. His pace is unhurried, though he seems eager to pull a reaction out of you. You give him what he wants whether you intend to or not. You press yourself closer to him in a silent request for more and he indulges you; his kisses become little nips, and the nips turn to bites as he starts to leave marks on your neck. He eases you back so that you're laying on your couch and he's hovering over you. The two of you stare at each other for a moment.

"Can I use my next wish?" His voice is rough. When you nod, he leans in once more. His uncovered lips brush against your ear as he whispers. "Let me give you a treat."

Something foreign yet familiar makes you shudder as you nod.

Spider-Man attacks your neck once again. Clearly he was holding himself back earlier, because every mark he leaves stings. He makes them dark and obvious, completely disregarding any warnings you may have given him on other days. You normally would tell him to ease up, to hide the marks that he so desperately wanted to leave on you. But now you let him do as he pleases. You gave him an inch and as expected, he took the mile. He soothes each one with a kiss and muffles your whimpers with his lips.

It takes a while before he's satisfied with his handiwork. Kazuha raises himself up with a shaky breath. Your wrists are in his hands and pinned against the couch. Looking down at you now, all flushed absolutely covered in his marks, he feels something uncontrollable stir within him. He has half a mind to tell you to close your eyes so he can take his mask off, but he refrains.

That's all he ever does when it comes to you. You, the greatest test of his endurance that he will ever encounter in his lifetime. No supervillain with any amount of underground connections or otherworldly technology will ever test his patience and restraint quite like you. For years, Kazuha has weighed the pros and cons of telling you who he is. He always wonders if you would still allow this, if you would still treat him like a lover if you knew who he was — if you knew that he's been lying to you. Though your reaction may not be guaranteed, it's a risk he's more than willing to take.

But he doesn't. Not tonight. Maybe another day when the time is right.

For now, Kazuha releases your wrists and sits himself up. He fixes his mask while you take yours off. You sit up and he watches as you ghost your fingers over each of your fresh hickies. You wince a little when you brush the one on the left side of your collarbone, above your heart. The silence that hangs in the air is evident, but not uncomfortable.

Then, you mutter. "I was supposed to give you a treat."

Kazuha reaches out and touches a hickey left on your pulse point. A sensitive spot for you – you shudder in response. He admires the lingering haze in your eyss. "You did. Thank you, lovebug."

✧ my goodness. @perpetualcynicism look at what you've done. you've reawakened a monster in me.

✧ edit: btw, the dividers belong to @cafekitsune!! thanks so much for making such beautiful dividers!

[quinloki]

Hi!! Could i get your opinion on the kinks marks, Face sitting and somnophilia with buggy, croco and mihawk?

Thx you <3

Oooooh, the polycule of the decade (I kid, kind of. Maybe. Talk about an interesting dynamic though >.>). AHEM - Sure, sure, I am going to say that I've been denying my love for Buggy for months, so I guess this is one way to help me admit my truth.

Also hey, I get to make Mihawk head canon on the fly, Let's Do This \o/

Lets do this one by Character - Alphabetically as you have already so thoughtfully provided <3 xD

Buggy:

Marks - Buggy doesn't strike me as an overly possessive type. He's certainly passionate enough to leave marks and get marked, but I don't think he's the kind of person that does it with intent. He rates a Sure for this, as in, he's not against it, but he's not giving it much thought either. At some point he does some serious introspection when you offer to get a tattoo somewhere that's his jolly roger. He doesn't know why the suggestion is hot as hell, he's never cared when anyone else on his crew got tattooed before, but you two go quite a few rounds that night.

Face Sitting - (Okay but that nose is like a wand bulb and I just... ) Ah, Buggy likes to give pleasure. He likes the praise that's won from your lips when he's making you feel good, and if his nose gives him an advantage then who is he to complain? This is a FUCK Yes, and he'll even detach his tongue (what a wonderful devil fruit) to push deeper inside you.

Somnophilia - Yes - Yes, but, he doesn't know it's a thing. So this poor man spends a few sleepless nights watching you sleep, getting riled up without knowing why, and probably worrying there's something wrong with him. He doesn't hide or handle stress well, so I'm sure it won't be long before you're asking him what's wrong and shortly after that when you're talking about it. With your consent in place the experimenting begins. He likes the soft moans and response in your sleepy body, but he's a flashy guy and it's a little too subtle.

Sir Crocodile:

Marks - Oh god you don't even know - I head canon Croco as very possessive. Bruises, marks, lines and splotches of rough pleasure, things he's pushed into your body. He loves it. You might not ever hear him say it directly, but it is fuel for him. A more Toxic Croc may brand or tattoo you against your will, but a more stable Crocodile will eventually ask if he could design a tattoo for you, or (depending on your kinks that he'd know so well) actually scar you.

Toxic or stable, a crocodile never lets go of what it catches.

Face Sitting - FUCK Yes - I just... I mean, I wrote 628 words inside of a multi-chapter fic that was sitting on this man's face while he just devoured you orgasm after orgasm. I don't know what more I could say other than he lives up to his name sake, because you are not going to be free of his jaws unless he's decided to let you go.

Somnophilia - I dunno - I don't think this is really Croco's vibe. I mean, I think he enjoys watching you sleep in a "they feel safe sleeping soundly around me, and I love that" kind of way. I'm sure watching over you while you sleep you'll move or moan or do something that also reminds him that there's attraction there, but I don't think he'd leave you sleeping at that point. He doesn't want to hear half-sleepy mumbled moans, he wants you to squirm and thrash under him, crying out pleasure and his name clearly.

Mihawk:

Marks - Sure/Yes - He's not against marking you, and he's definitely passionate enough to leave loving bites and bruises. But he's a legendary swordsman, and that means will and control. Almost unparalleled control, so I feel like he'd be sure and strong and incomprehensibly gentle. You wouldn't ever call his touch soft, or weak or anything like that. It's certain you're in the arms of someone who isn't letting you squirm away, but he will hold you in place with unyielding skill, and if you want him to leave traces of that skill on you, then he most certainly will.

Face Sitting - Yes - he's here for it, and has nothing against it, but I think he has a preference of having you on your back while he eats you out. It's a better view/angle for him, and there's a lot more options that way. Though, your back against the wall, him standing, holding your core against his face - that position for face sitting might just be his vibe.

Somnophilia - Yes - He would never admit to such recklessness, but Mihawk is enamored with you, there's simply no two ways about it. For him to focus on anything that isn't his swordsmanship means you've carved (heh) a place in his heart and life that's undeniable. It's complete and sometimes it's almost overbearing to him. He's not surprised to find himself turned on by your sleeping form, though he may grumble about needing more training (to himself). He does take some time to admit it to you and talk about it, and is certainly happy to have your blessing to do whatever he needs to help him take care of that desire.

And this unnaturally gentle and skilled man can have his way with you while you sleep and have you cleaned up and back in bed without disturbing a moment of your precious rest. Usually the only reason you even know anything happened is because your hair's damp in the morning from the bath.

Kinky One Piece Head Canon

[skruttet]

I recently watched "Sniff's Cave" and admittedly, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. One thing I've noticed, though, is that the episode's pacing is on the rails. Things happen way too fast and that also occurs in other episodes from the same season.

I dunno, I'd like to comment with someone about what they think about Sniff, he is one of my favorite characters and not a lot of people seem to comment about it. I see a lot of posts about Moomintroll, Snufkin, Joxter, but not enough about Sniff. His characterization in the 2019 series is a mess, like out of all characters in the main cast, he is limited to being a comic relief, and when he isn't, he wants to find some riches to prove his worth. How could that simple premise be so limiting?

In the cave episode, Sniff does seem to be self-aware of being a joke, and he strives to be more than that, to be seen as important and you know what? I wish there was more than that, but I suppose going existential or being introspective is the contrary of what Sniff is, and always will be. What do you think?

Firstly, the pacing thing is a common issue with this series as a whole, because 13x22' episodes are just too limiting for some of the Moomin stories (sometimes the writers did the best they could, sometimes I think they could've made different decisions to avoid pacing problems. This is something I've been dyinggg to talk about in an episode ranking video which I'll totally definitely film one day lol). Though honestly I don't think the pacing was too bad with this ep in particular?

I think the reason people don't comment on Sniff much, at least in relation to this show, is because there's only one thing to say and that is that he's done very poorly :')

One night in September I couldn't sleep and ended up ranting about his characterisation on Twitter which I didn't even post properly but I was basically mad about how he's portrayed as a homeless child (a home is never mentioned and in The Strange Case of Mrs Fillyjonk he is sleeping on a tree branch IN THE MIDDLE OF A STORM!) and whilst in the novels he's adopted by the Moomins, in Moominvalley Moominpappa even forgets his name and sometimes acts as if he's a stranger! He can be quite mean to him and even Moominmamma joined in on it at the start of season 3.

And, like you said, he's just reduced to the comic relief character who's played for laughs. I then went into how this makes him being the cross-dresser interesting but I don't think that is actually done in a malicious way so I kinda talked my way out of my rant then lol (although him wearing the hair in The Trial is certainly comedic so arguably a "man in dress" joke??)

I wish I was able to give more insight on his character and how they could've improved him but he's never been a favourite of mine unfortunately. I think maybe they shouldn't have made him SO stupid it gets a little ridiculous (I mean it's pretty much 'lol random' humour). I really enjoyed Clare Corbett's performance as him in the Comet audio drama; she made him sound like, well, a little boy, and it was very sweet. His meanness felt more like cheekiness.

I've ranted about The Trial and how much I hate it many times before, but it's unfair to many characters, including Sniff. He isn't even allowed to gain character development naturally; the Hobgoblin just, like, magically gives him empathy? And then Sniff goes round giving unsolicited therapy to everyone and bringing up their traumas in front of others???? And then even that artificial development doesn't seem to stick because he's still quite selfish in future episodes.

I do like that Night of the Groke and Sniff's Cave focused more on his fear, I think that's an interesting angle to explore with him, and it's nice he's able to overcome his fears eventually - in his own way!

[ficandkaboodle]

Okay but after making my whole summary of Gonst character breakdowns, it’s got me wondering more than before: Would Copia have turned out any better if Sister had kept him and raised him herself?? (Warning: This post is long by way of me meandering)

I’m just talking rubber duck debugging-style here, I’m not expecting to or even necessarily hoping to come to any kind of fixed conclusion. But Cardi’s current tendencies are absolutely a product of how he grew up: He craves attention, he depends heavily on more decidedly childish activities and comforts, he is socially awkward as balls.

So obviously things would be different if he’d been brought up by Sister. But how different? And would that have been any better for Copia’s sense of self-worth or how he interacts with the world?

Personally, I think no. If anything, in a really sad and arguably disturbing way, how things turned out might’ve been the lesser of two evils. Still a fucked up evil, but the somewhat more survivable one.

In spite of everything she’s said and done, Sister Imperator did love Copia. She just expressed it in a way that wasn’t exactly conducive to his anxieties or just overall respect for him as an adult with needs, sensitivities, and the complexities that come with having the life he’d had. She loved him, but she loved him in a way that aligned with her mannerisms.

We don’t know Sister’s story. We likely never will, at least not in full. But it’s safe to assume that if Sister wasn’t born into the Church, she was definitely brought to it at a defining age and was either bred to or was deemed competent enough to lead it as Imperator. As a result, the Church and its goals became her mission. She might not have started it, but it was her first baby. The irony being that by dedicating herself as staunchly and one-track-minded as she did, she neglected to celebrate it as humanely as she could beyond perhaps just the lust-indulgence.

I will be the first to admit I know virtually nothing about Satanism. But…I dunno, most of the Emeriti (save Primo) seem to be on a similar page on how to interact with their faith: Secondo celebrates indulgence, Terzo embraces the importance of the self and being your own ruler while also being kind to others, and Copia would end rituals reminding people to do both. Sister stands out in that she’s more focused on all work, very little play. As a result, most of what we see of her comes off as very bureaucratic. Business-minded. She’s always thinking of how to keep the Church from fading into obscurity.

As a result of how many of her decisions seem to always have a thread tying back to the Church's well-being, I'd dare say this means more personal decisions tend to be a bit more . . . I wouldn't say "impulsive", but they certainly aren't running on all cylinders if you get what I'm saying.

At any rate, I wouldn't necessarily say the business-mindedness disrupts any maternal instinct in her per se. It could be. But honestly, I don’t think Sister is necessarily cut out for motherhood by nature. And that’s okay! Not every person is meant to be a parent, and AFAB women especially bear the brunt of criticism when they don’t display motherly affection or instinct. Even if she wanted to be more present, I don’t think her mindset would have allowed it to be as easy. And y’all, motherhood is hard enough on its own and under normal circumstances.

Bureaucracy suits Sister because she wants to be there.

What I find interesting is that Sister carried Copia and his twin to term when she didn't have to. So some part of her probably did want to have children. Or maybe she went into it recognizing the importance of having heirs: Legacy is a recurring theme in Ghost's characterization, even if some characters wind up misusing or misunderstanding it.

Ultimately, though, she gave them up and kept her distance except for in the one way she understood how to interact with people: Bureaucratically. And Copia responded to it well (probably because, I dunno, he didn't even know they were blood-related).

Regardless, I think that in a way, the fact this was met positively assured Sister that this was a proper way to go in a sense.

In a way, her giving Cardi the antipapacy is her trying to be a good mother and give him a gift. Yeah, it's a gift coming 50-something years late but the intention was there, I guess. However, it comes at the cost of having his brothers offed to assure no radicalism. Copia doesn’t seem to mind (or at least isn’t written to) but the fact still stands: That’s fucked up, Sister, you can’t go around killing your child’s half-brothers to get him the job.

So now this leads me back to the question I posited earlier: How would things have been different if Sister had decided to keep Copia? Well . . .

I think, had Sister raised Copia herself, Copia would've turned out . . . worse.

He would have likely been more ���confident”, but it would’ve been horrifically twisted in and of itself. He’d grow up knowing he was part of the Imperator line (or simply known as Sister Imperator's son at the very least) and that would probably make him feel entitled. He’s essentially a little satanic prince, nobody can tell him no. Nobody who wants to live, anyway.

But he’d also be incredibly lonely. Like, more so than he already is. He may not have friends in the canon but he does have admirers who are drawn to him for his kindness and his willingness to be a bit of a goof. He'd probably be much more depressed than Canon Copia is implied to have familiarity with, and probably sucks even harder at dealing with it. He doesn't have anyone to confide in, and I think he'd never want anyone to know his vulnerabilities because he's the goddamn Imperator's son.

I think in the Copia Imperator timeline, he’d have “friends” but it’s mostly just for clout and/or fear. They're Yes Men he has orgies with essentially and carts around on the Ministry Black Card. He doesn’t have much appeal because he’s a manchild but in an extremely bratty way.

The charm we get from Canon Copia's childish tendencies are completely gone because Canon Copia's antics are the result of coping mechanisms mixed with a mother that coddles him because she doesn't trust him as an adult or see him as much beyond the baby she gave up. In the Copia Imperator timeline, he'd be enabled and probably not given very much reason to be a better person or mature.

Also, he’d probably be more down to kill. I know it's easy to assume this because bratty manchild with power frequently equals a lack of respect for life, but I also think him watching Mommy have people killed off for convenience would have put into his head that he can do the same. Only when Sister does it, it's for the "good" of the Church. If Copia does it, it's probably because he feels that person wronged him. Even if he still had some goofy traits, he’d be reluctant to display them and take anyone witnessing them as slights.

And given Sister’s penchant for putting work above all else, yeah, I think she’d hire nannies. Which wouldn’t likely be conducive to their relationship, so he becomes desperate for her attention and tries to be more like her. He still has Cardi’s mindset that if he does this thing right, he’ll be loved but I think in a weird way, he’d be more cutthroat about it. Probably because he witnessed his mother do the same up close (or as close as he can get from an emotionally and sometimes physically distant mother).

Which means there's probably a huge possibility that, in this timeline, he's more likely to be directly responsible for Papas 1-3s' deaths.

But I dunno, that's just my onion.

We don't know why Copia is as decent as he is, though. We can't say for sure if it's a nature vs nurture thing because as much as we can try and piece things together, we ultimately know nothing of his life growing up. We don't know if he'd been raised by or had a very kind adult in his life, or if he tried being mean and just frankly didn't like it. We don't know if anything from being raised as an orphan impacted his empathy or sympathy.

So obviously, this is all just what I puzzled together from traits of Sister's and how they might translate into motherhood as done by her, and what traits could therefore emerge in her child. How close to the mark I hit is subjective because that's fanon/speculation, baby.

(Though I think there's quite a few of you out there who would've probably loved to have seen Copia acting in this manner.)

Would Sister "raising" Copia have made for a more interesting storyline? Possibly. But as a person, Copia's probably better off this way. Which is depressing considering it's still left him spending most of his life not knowing who his parents were; likely developing a conviction that he's only as good as what he can succeed at; developing thanatophobia in connection to his need to be successful; and also having to recognize that his mother had his half-brothers killed off both to assure his ascendancy and to turn a profit.

Suffice it to say, no one is well. But at least he turned out cute, right?

TL;DR: Sister's focus on the Church and probable incompatibility with a particularly affectionate motherhood affects her relationship in the canon timeline. If she'd kept Copia, he might've turned out worse as a person -- and probably have left him to nannies anyway. This was probably the best possible outcome that could be made based on her poor communication and decision-making when it comes to things outside of her faith.

But that's just my opinion, I could very well be wrong lol

[peppertoastuniverse]

Hi pepper!

I have a request for a one shot Gojo x reader. that’s fluffy based off of this song called “memory lane” by aqualina

I do have a scene based off of it but do whatever you’d like. Imagine this, either reader or Gojo finds some old footage of Him, reader, Shoko and Geto hanging out in their high school years. Reader and Gojo reminisce on old memories.

omg thank you for your sweet request ! hope this one was worth the wait ✨

something good – gojo satoru x reader

contents: gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru mention, ieri shoko mention, light angst with LOTS OF FLUFF, mentally strugging softboy!satoru gojo, lots of yearning, 2 pages of making out, slightly suggestive summary: gojo uncovers hidden memories and realises that all he needs is you wc: 3.6k

spring time, second year.  “.. it looks like me and you haven’t really changed that much, hey?” he says softly, the fondness for you showing in his younger face all those years before.   even when he didn’t ask, he knew that you would always be there. you were his constant. he didn’t know when he started seeing you in everything he did, if you could see his thoughts, you’d be able to see your smile reflecting back at you.

“satoru?” still concentrating on his nintendo DS, he sighs. he recognizes suguru’s tone, it either going to be a deep question or a fucking stupid one. he rolls over with a groan on suguru’s bed to face his best friend, his book that he was reading lay forgotten on his desk. “yeah?” satoru asks lazily, eyes darting back to his flashing screen. “who do you see yourself as in the future?” oh, here we go. satoru fights the need to roll his eyes. “what do you want for your life?”  “pff, I want to just fucking beat this level.” he says aggravatingly, groaning dramatically as his character dies again. suguru laughs seeing his flashing screen, previous annoyance disappearing instantly, satoru can’t help but grin back – he always liked suguru’s laugh. 

“...don’t you ever think about it though? the future?” the future?

he blinks. blessed with great strength and power, he knew from a young age that that choice wasn’t something that he was lucky enough to have. satoru never had to worry about the future, he had his whole life planned out for him. the thought never saddened him, and why should it? he wasn’t a fool and believed that all things were equal in this world. he was the chosen one, the future of jujutsu society – that was just how life was –  another consequence of being the honoured he supposed. but glancing at suguru’s thoughtful expression, the flicker of hope and despair in his violet eyes, his rough hands winding through his dark hair, it was clear to see that this obviously mattered to suguru. satoru didn’t understand where suguru was going with this but it was just like him to worry about things that didn’t matter. satoru sighs, attention back to his game,  “i dunno, it’s hard to say when we’re already the strongest. what else could you want?” suguru scoffs, shaking his head “you won’t be a teenager forever – you’d better wake up sooner or later, satoru.” satoru jolts awake, moving his blindfold up to rub his eyes irritatedly. 

shit, for once he didnt mean to fall asleep. still feeling slightly disoriented, he hastily slides off of the couch, moving quickly to his room down the hall. groaning as he glances at the clock in the hall, he sighs hoping to ignore his slightly teary eyes. he was going to be late – you were going to kill him. 

satoru hasn’t been sleeping well lately – not that it was from a lack of effort. he’s tried melatonin pills, exercising before bed, even those sleepy girlie time party mocktails – or whatever you called them – but nothing helped. it definitely wasn’t the endless missions that the irritating higher ups were making him go on, he was used to the workload. maybe he was worried about something. walking quickly through his room, satoru wondered if you were getting enough sleep. did you have dreams too? sleep never seemed to be there when he wanted it. rubbing his face, to fully pull himself into reality, satoru could still feel the remnants of the quiet comfort produced by his unexpected dream. he felt shame at the feeling. guilt in the comfort. 

satoru didnt get a lot of sleep to begin with, but there were times where the extra hours awake weren’t all bad. he might as well be useful, which is how satoru started learning how to cook in the early hours of the morning, proudly surprising tsumiki and megumi with cute bento boxes. he would binge watch a whole tv series at once, determined to tell nanami all about it at jujutsu tech. but he thinks the best use of his time awake was when he was simply seated on the couch with you, listening to you talk about your day until the drowsiness would overtake you and he could just hold you for a little bit. he liked when you came over, tsumiki and megumi liked it too. just last week, when he saw your expression melt when tsumiki begged you to stay for dinner, giving into her like you always have. satoru remembers your grin as you sat next to silently pleased megumi, picking out the tender pieces of chicken from your plate to give him more of his favourite. when you were around satoru noticed that fushiguros were more at ease, and he couldn’t help but think that maybe it would be better if you moved in. but this was uncharted territory – a necessary boundary– protecting you from the rise and fall of his storm. his greed would have to lay dormant in his dreams. 

but the lines were getting blurrier throughout the years. satoru couldnt deny how his face would light up when you’d call him while he was on a lengthy overnight mission. concern smothering the delight in your voice that he was still awake (“satoru! what the fuck, did you even sleep today?”), he’d easy dodge your concerns, covering the fatigue in his voice with teasing remarks and crude jokes to your obvious frown.  “tell me something good, satoru” you’d say, seeing right through him like you always did, voice still laced with sweetness, wanting nothing more than to listen to him talk. 

taking wide strides across his room to throw something on, satoru rustles quickly into his closet grabbing whatever looked clean and appropriate. if he showed up in his crinkled pajamas again to a meeting again, you’d surely cuss him out. his eyebrows crease at the thought of disappointing you, he was supposed to make you smile not stress you out – he made a promise to himself to always look out for you and there you go again worrying about him. 

hastily grabbing the folded dark blue sweater at the back of his closet, blue eyes widen at a box toppling to the floor. its contents dramatically spilling across the cold hardwood floors. 

great. he didn’t have time for this. groaning, he quickly kneels down to right the box, his breathing hitches. 

strewn across his floor, he sees scenes of his missing dreams. photographs of his time at jujutsu tech as a student, his eyes taking in the many photographs that shoko had taken, moments of a simpler past. gathering the pile of photos, he slowly rifles through them – a photo of shoko and him with matching peace signs, a photo of you doing shoko’s hair, blurry photos of suguru chasing after you when you’d steal his cigarettes, snickering photos of him trying to climb suguru like a tree, a photo of you and kento sharing sandwiches. 

another lifetime ago. he picks up the slightly faded photo of himself and you, a reminder of a well loved memory. satoru shakes his head softly at the way you sat on his back while he was sprawled out on the gym mats, his glasses perched at the top of your head acting as a crown on your shit eating face.  satoru cant help but grin at his own small pout in the grainy photo. shoko always had the best timing. you had a bet with suguru that if you could get gojo’s glasses, he would treat you to unlimited free ramen from that nice place in shibuya with the fresh noodles for two months. 

satoru remembered how you’d excitedly roll off him ignoring his grumbling, “toru, you know i had to win! it’s suguru! have you seen how much sugu eats? that fucker would run me dry! but don’t worry, i’ll get him to pay for you too.” 

he never told you that he had let you win of course, not putting up much of a fight, distracted by the smile on your face – so bright that he couldn’t bear to diminish it. you must have had some sort of curse in your smile, even convincing a begrudging suguru into paying for satoru everytime, “sugu, you have to! he’s going to whine and cry, do you really want to deal with that?” 

after that month, satoru never went to back that ramen place again– too sick of it to go back. he could hear the creaking floors when the three of you would arrive,  the smell of the rich broth and the sound of suguru’s laughter when he teased you.   satoru knows you havent had shio ramen since then – you insisted on have ramen for every meal for a month to suguru’s annoyance. perhaps he’d invite you to go eat there again if it was still there. 

somewhere in his mind he thinks he hears the warm sound of your arrival, the jingling of the key that he gave you when the fushiguros first moved in. your usual light steps, heavy now with annoyance. 

“really, satoru?” you yell, annoyance dripping from your sharp tongue. “i’ve been calling you a billion times, this is an important meeting – we can’t be late again. you fucking said you’d be ready by the time i –” you see his still figure hunched at his closet. your eyes narrow in confusion, your tightened fist unclenching at the sight of his still broad back. 

“... satoru?” you call, voice softening as you notice the tension in his shoulders and the unnatural stillness of his too tall body. curiously you creep up behind him, your  slow hands feel his shoulders, the tension cold and heavy in his muscles, your hesitant hands leaving a trail of fire behind them. arms weaving their way around his slender neck, a place that you’ve been before. your eyes take in the photos strewn on the floor, visions of a past life swirling in his cluttered mind. your eyes widen. 

“..’toru?” you try again – more gently – calling him from the abyss, a light in a rough storm. eventually, you feel his large cold hand reach up to gently hold your right hand in response, his blue eyes tear away from the photographs, tousled white hair leaning against your abdomen, his tired eyes looking up at your concerned face. 

“hey.” he greets you, trying to mask his fallen expression with a hollow smile, a carefully practiced defense, something that he developed in childhood but perfected in suguru’s absence. but you knew him well. you knew how his eyebrows would crease or how his lip twitched when he was on the verge of crying.  

the dark rings around his eyes echoes you concern – were they darker than usual? you sigh as you take into account his far away stare, his icy watery eyes. crouching down, all anger forgotten, you look over his shoulder to take a closer look at the photo he’s holding. apologetically you let go of his hand in exchange for the photograph, sitting down beside him instead. you miss his eyebrows furrow slightly missing the comforting squeeze of your hand. a bittersweet smile dancing on your face, you stare at the photo, all words dying on your suddenly too heavy tongue. a photo of a past life, a happier time:  suguru’s exasperated expression contrasting his bright amethyst eyes, face fashioned in a pout as he was sandwiched obnoxiously in between you and satoru. a wild grin decorating your face, mischievous eyes closed in mid laughter at suguru’s grumbling, while satoru pulled bunny ears behind suguru.

“oh god, look at him.” you whisper pointing out suguru’s dark shorter hair when he first arrived at jujutsu tech. you almost forgot what he looked like before he – 

your eyes blink, you didn’t want to think about it. 

satoru scoffs, “i know, doesn’t he look like an idiot?” 

“remember how you’d make fun of him all the time? you were such a bully to him – he really hated you when we started.” you laugh sadly.  

“that’s not my fault, he was fucking asking for it! he kept calling me q-tip! or nepobaby!” he counters, betraying tenderness in his tone. “shut up, i know you liked it when he called you anything close to baby!” you quip back, face denouncing you in a soft grin. a heavy silence invades the intimate space between you two, his absence sitting in between you, his rightful spot now vacant.  suguru. you lean your head on satoru’s shoulder, his arm moving around you to settle at your waist instinctively. you look into his eyes reading him easily: i miss him too. 

suguru’s defection was still a sore spot in your mind. satoru still hasnt been able to say his name out loud, suguru’s name carrying too much weight. you suspected that satoru wanted to carry his best friend with him despite the heaviness, a sense of masochistic comfort. you hoped that he knew that you were always there for him when the time came, you still felt the hurt too. 

but there was a strange sort of solace that still lingered in his name. suguru’s memory was still soft if you focused but the pain caused by his name was still sharp and rough around the edges. when was the last time you and satoru spoke this openly about him?

the memory still hurt. a wound that would reopen at any given movement, unable to heal, cutting deeper as time went by. 

mercifully sensing the pounding of your heavy heart, satoru clears his throat and fishes out another photo in the messy pile. a photo of shoko and himself, a cigarette dancing on shoko’s lips, gojo looking at her in mid conversation. 

“ewww – look at you here.” you point out, wrinkling your nose, “this really wasnt your best haircut...” 

he scoffs, the twinkle in his eyes showing you his amusement.  “you’re the one who did it – ”

“oh fuck, right!” you laugh, thinking about the very first time satoru begged you to cut his hair – shoko was away on a rare mission–  yelping at you when you closed your eyes in nervousness, resulting in an uneven cut. you both remembered how shoko laughed so hard she cried when she saw him. you definitely didn’t cut his hair this time, admiring his soft locks and even trim. you move your generous hands to comb through his soft hair gently, enjoying the feeling of his undercut under your slow hands. he closes his eyes, a please sigh escaping his lips, tension immediately easing from his body.

“it’s better now though, hey? makes me even more handsome,” he teases, his eyes still closed. 

“nah, still ugly. brings out your buggy eyes. ‘m so glad you started wearing the blind fold.” you mutter, still playing with his hair absentmindedly. 

ignoring his whine, you laugh, “wow, shoko still looks amazing though.. look at her cute little cheeks! I forgot how she used to put pins in her hair like that.” previous annoyance disappearing instantly, satoru can’t help but grin back – he always liked your laugh. 

he watches while a strange far away expression infiltrates your face, picking up a photo, edges creased contrasting the vividness of his memory. shoko and suguru smiling at the camera, while you and satoru were in mid conversation smiling at each other. spring time, second year. 

“.. it looks like me and you haven’t really changed that much, hey?” he says softly, the fondness for you showing in his younger face all those years before.  

even when he didn’t ask, he knew that you would always be there. you were his constant. he didn’t know when he started seeing you in everything he did, if you could see his thoughts, you’d be able to see your smile reflecting back at you. your presence somehow simultaneously exciting him and putting him at ease. maybe it started when you stole his glasses in first year, or the countless detentions you both got in. surely, it must have been the night that suguru left. in the darkness he wasn’t sure who was holding who, your tears mixing with his as you clung to him in your sleep.

maybe it was when you showed up at megumi’s school when he first got into a fight even though you were in the middle of a mission last month, a fire in your eyes. or maybe it was when you comforted tsumiki when she came home upset over a fight with one of her friends. maybe it was in the way you talked her through it, rubbing her back gently while you listened to her through her teary words. or when you ate all his mochi yesterday, cheekily claiming “you said you’d share, satoru!” whenever it started, he knew that something different was blossoming into maturity in the past few months – something that he never knew could be a possibility –  let alone for someone like him. 

“we should take an updated photo, we never have photos of just us,” you decide, turning to face him fully. “my phone or yours?” he asks, eyes still the photo, breathing in the way you smiled at him all those years ago. unchanged. 

“mhm, yours.” you say as he digs his phone out of his back pocket. “i want a good one, ‘kay toru?? i dont need any more photos of you sticking your tongue out..” you mutter, scooching closer to him. “oy, come closer – you’re so far,” you whine, grabbing his forearm urging him to get closer for a better photo. 

“c’mere then..” he mutters, gently shuffling you so that you’re sitting in his lap, as you hum in content at the warmth of his skin against yours. he easily drowned you, this familiar place, his familiar embrace. yet this time you felt the tide shift, something softer, vulnerable – the calm waters after a storm.  you lean your head to his as you both smile for the camera as the shutter echoes through the room. 

moving impossibly closer to you, he turns his head towards you, his phone lay forgotten on the floor. sensing his stare you turn your head to his, eyes questioning his soft gaze. as the air grows thicker bursting with the weight of years of fondness and poorly hidden desires, your eyes flicker to the curve of his lips. breathing the same air as him, you feel light headed, drunk off the very presence of him.   

inching closer he feels his soft lips meet yours, a fluttering feeling, hesitant and foreign but firm and sure. you easily wind your arms around his neck, sighing as you pull him closer, jumping into the deep end when you’ve been wading in the shallows for years. he effortlessly maneuvers you to straddle his lap, large hands pressing against your back, pulling you closer to meld his heart to yours, his hands begging to memorize the feeling of you. 

too preoccupied drowning in him, you hesitantly break away from him to breathe, only to rest your forehead on his. grounding yourself in the feeling of his warm breath on your cheek, uneven and heavy, your erratic heartbeat threatens to break the fragile silence. the air grew hot and heavy, buzzing with anticipation and nerves.  satoru bumps his slender nose with your playfully, causing you to grin. a relieved smile dancing on his face in reply, a silent conversation dancing in his eyes, a celebration of his love, a proclamation of his devotion to you, an apology for waiting this long, an admission of forever. 

needing to feel more of him, you move your hand to cup his flushed cheek, the sweetness in his skin grounds you once more – satoru was always the question and the solution wound tightly into one. confessions of the past and future swirling in his blue, you meet the weight of his tender gaze like you were carrying the strongest’s life in your very hands. his skin burning with your touch, you greedily move to kiss him to soothe the ache, swallowing his smile in your greed. 

melting with the reassurance of his lips to yours like a signature on a previously forgotten love letter, you wonder how you lasted this long without his lips on yours. you bite back a pleased smile as he reciprocates eagerly, deepening the kiss, tongues dancing, his soft lips moving in tandem with a bruising promise to always be yours if you let him. when your hands weave through his hair, a dark purr escaping his throat, reverberating through your core. his arm grips you tightly as his other hand moves to settle at the nape of your neck, feeling your heart beat in sync through his flushed skin. 

breathlessly, with great effort two magnets part, your hands loosening your grip on his soft t shirt. breaths tangling together, drinking in each other. 

still intoxicated by the feeling of you, satoru can’t help but nuzzle into your warmth, his forehead finding yours once more. his eyes still on your swollen lips, evidence of his want, his mind already on the thought of kissing you again, like he would die without the feeling. “y’okay?” you mumble, heaving chest enjoying his touch. 

he chuckles at the absurdity of your question, you should know by now that he was always okay as long as you were with him – the only time that he feels he would get better is when you were there. 

“hey – don’t laugh…” you mutter suddenly embarrassed by his stare, a deeper blush finding a way onto your cheeks emphasizing your growing pout. laughing fully now, his strong arms bring you closer as they wind around your waist sweetly.

unable to resist, you lightly kiss his jawline as his wandering hands brush some hair out of your face. “hmph, you’re such a dick and after everything i do for you too…” you playfully whisper without malice, leaning into his broad chest, rolling your eyes.

“mm.. how should i make it up to you?” he mumbles, slender hand tilting your chin up to force your gaze to look at him. as you bravely meet his tender gaze, you notice that something different was in his eyes.

“damn, i gotta help you with that one too?” you tease, giggle blooming in your throat as he kisses our nose gently. “well… i have a few ideas.” he hums, moving to kiss you fully, slow and sweet savouring you. “you always do…” you mutter, eyes on his grinning lips. 

perhaps now he could answer suguru’s question he thought as you move to rest your head on his shoulder. satoru knew he wanted you. holding you in his arms now, feeling your shy smile on his neck –  he knew that you were something good.

requests are open a/n: they did not make it to the meeting lol ngl this request was tough, but i loved the challenge of writing my first smoochie smoochie scene.

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[your-unfriendlyghost]

4, 5, 7, 14

(Okay I really liked these ones fyi)

4. Rank the main 7.

  Ooh tough one. I guess right now, in order of favorite to least favorite, I’d have to go Sodapop, Two-Bit, Steve, Johnny, Ponyboy, Dally, and then finally Darry. But it’s pretty close, and the order changes day by day honestly- I like all of them a lot, y’know? I guess the only one I don’t think about too often is Darry. I still like him and think he’s a really well-written character- I just don’t have a lotta original thoughts about him, is all, whereas I do about all the others. 

5. What are your fave ships?

  In a truly shocking turn of events, I, a frequent draw-er and writer of Stevepop, am going to say Stevepop. I dunno, something about them just makes me happy. Reminds me of like…daydreams I had when I was twelve and crushing on my best friend, and trying to get her attention by doing stupid things and whatever…god I don’t really know how to explain why I like it. Before this fandom I didn’t usually ship things, to be honest. But I guess when I did it’d be stuff like Jesslake in Infinity Train, where it’s the sorta thing that can be seen as platonic or romantic. I reckon Stevepop scratches a similar itch in my brain lol

  But I also really like Marcia x Two-Bit, which I haven’t really talked about here much- They had good chemistry, y’know? I oughta draw something about them sometime

  And then finally there’s my DIY crack-ish ship Soda x Steve x Evie. I like them! It’s all the things I like about Stevepop, plus there’s a cool girl in the mix! I love cool girls! More folks should think about them i think

  I do like other ships okay too- like the Tarry crowd has dragged me in, and sometimes the Jally crowd does too, along with Purly and occasionally Johnnyboy. I’m not an active participant, but when I come across it, I sorta mentally nod and say “nice”, you dig? They’re like…my ship-in-laws. Or like…milk duds and hershey bars- candy I still enjoy, but reach for only after I’m out of milky ways and twizzlers.

7. What are your fave non-romantic relationships? (This can be close friends, familial, enemies or even just acquaintances)

  Two-Bit and Pony! I like them a lot. Their interactions in the book were some of my favorite parts. That line when Two-Bit was worried about Ponyboy using that broken bottle on the Socs…ugh that part was great. I remember reading it for the first time and just sitting there thinking about how much I liked that detail.

  Then on the opposite side of the coin, Steve and Pony lol. I LOVE how Pony doesn’t initially like Dally or Steve, and yet Dally’s chill with Pony…but with Steve the disdain is mutual. Jk I don’t think Steve really hates Pony- but he definitely thinks Pony’s kinda annoying. I like the idea of him watching out for Pony anyways though, like at school especially now that Soda’s not going.

14. Tell us five of your headcanons you basically see as canon

Sodapop has ADHD and maybe (?) dyslexia, but it’s the 60s so he won’t find out till he’s well into adulthood

Marcia gave Two-Bit her real number, and was disappointed when he didn’t call it. I like to imagine they end up remeeting at some point and going out together- even if that’s kinda unrealistic lol

Steve hated Dally when he first rolled into town, because Dally was everything he really wanted to be- tough, cool, and street-smart. And he was also scared of losing Soda, who thought Dally rocked- because Dally’s from New York and rides in rodeos! Eventually they became buddies though when Dally gave Steve a compliment or something. Not even a particularly good one- something like “Hey you ain’t bad at fighting”- just barely enough for Steve to feel like Dally’s earned a little bit of his loyalty. Might write fic/make a comic for this- it’s kinda niche but I think the idea is funny

Steve and Soda secretly listen to the Beach Boys at the DX. They can’t tell anyone because it’s not tuff to like a dumb California band. And Ponyboy would like the Beatles if he listened to them, but he doesn’t, so he won’t realize that until years after Beatlemania has died down

Steve is not just a Ponyboy hater but also a horses-in-general hater. He thinks horses are scary and unpredictable and that cars were invented for a reason. He was secretly relieved when Mr. Curtis stopped Soda from riding rodeos, because seeing Soda on a crazy horse gave him mad anxiety. Pretended he was sad though for Soda’s sake

Thanks so much for asking!! I loved answering these so much lol, definitely let me know your thoughts too on ‘em!

[sparklepirate]

Alright, final thoughts on Inheritance.

;-;

Eragon continues to be the guy of all time. I love him. He really displayed a maturity in this book that I think supersedes anything we've seen of him in all the previous books, and just like... His strength really is that he is compassionate and thoughtful towards everyone. Even Murtagh, now, too. He had the realization of how close he was to sharing his fate, sought to understand him, and that was ultimately what led him to realizing his true name had changed, tearing down Galbatorix's wards, etc etc. I don't know that I could properly articulate everything about him here, but Eragon definitely became the hero he needed to be by the end of the series, 100%. He is the only person who could've possibly thought of the final piece of magic to defeat Galbatorix. Even the dreams of starlings are equal to the worries of a king. Ahhh, it's so good. ❤️ I'm so proud of him.

On the other hand, Barst was some bullshit. Bro. Like, on the one hand, it was a very good climactic battle for Roran to participate in, and his triumph was the perfect culmination of his character- cunning in battle, cunning in strategy, the intelligence and charisma to sway everyone around him into cooperating and working together, sheer determination so intensely strong that he was able to crush and Eldunarí with his bare hands. His role was perfect! But Barst as a villain was kinda... Well, first of all, he came completely the fuck out of nowhere. He wasn't mentioned at all until they were already on their way to Uru'baen, and then he was only MENTIONED. They didn't hype him up enough before the actual battle in my opinion. And ONE human and one Eldunarí being enough to beat the QUEEN OF THE ELVES in hand to hand combat...? I mean, I guess that could work but... Ehhh... I dunno. It kind of felt like an excuse for Islanzadí to die, and Roran to triumph more than anything. It was cool, but it was probably the weakest part of the plot in my opinion.

That said though I think it's pretty safe to say this was my favorite book of the series. I'm having trouble recalling all the iconic shit (I took a pretty long break from reading about halfway through the book) but there was soooo much cool stuff in here. The Nasuada being kidnapped and being helped by Murtagh arc is GOLD, Vroengard was amazing, and all the battles were SO well written??? I need to study these books more closely just to learn how to write compelling fight scenes. Honestly, it's gripping stuff. I was on the edge of my seat, despite knowing how everything turns out.

Nasuada is amazing, Arya is amazing, Saphira is amazing, Roran is amazing, MURTAGH is amazing... I think I already liked basically every character in this series going in, but I somehow like them even more now that I've read it again. Everyone is so good, and interesting, and I want to be everyone's friend. I think the only character I liked less this go around was Orrin (sorry to my Orrin stan friend out there). That said, though, I don't dislike him, I think I just went from positive to neutral about him.

Orrin honestly just didn't get nearly as much screen time as I remembered? We only see him a handful of times throughout the book and each time the only thing he's doing is getting drunk and making an ass of himself, though... Idk, he also has a point? He has his own unique point of view, and his own unique experiences that lead him to his own ideas of how to conduct things, and it is definitely kind of true that like no one ever really listens to him or takes him seriously, despite being the King of Surda for w while at that point. I don't think there was a more graceful solution to the division of power/territory after Galbatorix was killed than what was decided upon, because like... Realistically, Orrin was never gonna be high king. He had good reason to assert for the throne, sure, but actually ascending to the throne? That is SUCH a far reach for power, unless the aim was to assimilate Surda in and have all of the humans under one crown. Nah, Nasuada giving up territory and ascending to the throne was the better choice, even if I do empathize with Orrin's point of view. It seems like Nasuada did as well, because even though she was persistent, she seemed to be gentle and sympathetic with him. He even had his line about like... "Why do you even want to do this?" "None of you would understand." Idk. Very interesting, but not tremendously notable compared to others, and he definitely was a bit of an asshole at times.

Murtagh my beloved my BELOVED I'm honestly just gonna make a whole separate essay post about him because his shit is Complicated™️ but one little note it was such a small detail at the end but I love that he said to Eragon "Hey check in on Arya about killing Shruikan. It couldn't have been easy for an elf to kill a dragon." And Eragon hadn't even THOUGHT of that and Arya probably would've been the last thing on his mind but he still was just so thoughtful. He is thoughtful like his brother and he cares so deeply and AHHH!!! And actually I want to see him and Arya be buds. I think they would have a cool dynamic. And also I love that he never once hesitated to acknowledge Eragon as his brother and just wanted to be with him and finally Eragon also acknowledged him as a brother too that last scene with them was just so good 🥹

Also I love how Thorn's like only spoken line in the whole series (until November) is to boop Eragon on the forehead and say "Hi. Thank you for not killing my rider. :)" and Murtagh is just like "Yeah thanks for that. 😒"

Love how quick Saphira and Fírnen hit it off lol. They really played tag and wrestled for like five minutes and then were like "Alright we're gonna go fuck like now see y'all later ✌️" And Eragon's like "Is this??? Okay???" And Saphira's like "Pfft dragon's don't mate for life 🤷‍♀️" Their little romance was so cute.

CAN WE FUCKING TALK ABOUT QUEEN AND RIDER ARYA??? That shit is by FAR the wildest endgame decision Chris made because like. That. That's so fucking. Oh my god??? Like, one, poor Arya!! She just wanted to be a rider and have adventures! She probably would've either spent her time happy herrying eggs across Alegaësia, or she would've gone with Eragon to Mount Arngor, but you can NOT convince me that she would be particularly happy as queen. She's grieving the loss of her mother that she barely had a relationship with, and denied the other eleven leaders for a full week before they convinced her to do it!!! Girlie!!! You deserve to be happy!!! And, two, the obvious point of holy shit that is such an enormous power imbalance in favor of the elves. Like, there is a REASON the riders were separate in the first place!! And, you know, Galbatorix JUST died and now there is another rider/monarch and it's the ELVES who have historically been both the most powerful race, and the race with the best relationship with the dragons. And Arya is the ONLY RIDER LEFT IN ALEGAËSIA!!! Because Eragon is gone (and stubbornly convinced that He Shall Never Again Return Oh Woe Is Him) and Murtagh is... Also gone to an extent. He at the very least holds no political power. Basically everyone hates him, and those that don't can't do more than, like, pardon him, for whatever that's worth. I just can't see this not rubbing people the wrong way, and not coming to an eventual head. Nasuada and Arya are both great, but I just get the feeling there is going to eventually be some sort of conflict between them, no matter how much neither of them want it. I do think Arya is perhaps the least corruptible person, other than maybe Eragon but... I don't knowwww maaaan it's complicated!!

Also I regret to inform everyone that rereading the last little bit did make me ship Eragon and Arya a teensy tinsy itty little bit. Just a liiiiittle bit. Like idk the last fairth and the telling each other their true names and calling each other their true names and Eragon's grief at leaving and his vow to love her forever and her insinuation of maybe one day just got to me alright???

There were a lot of cool magic things in this book! Like the pocket space that the Eldunarí were kept in? Cuaroc's body? More shit that I'm forgetting? God I would just love, like, a magical encyclopedia or something idk. Lots of cool shit. And artifacts!! I want to learn about more magical artifacts.

Also at my Galbatorix stan mutual? I'm a certified Murtagh Girlie™️ and therefore obligated to hold a grudge but like. I do get it. He is a... Very competent villain.

Alright I think that's it for now but. Wow. Man oh man. There is a reason I love this series. I'll probably think of some more things to talk about later, and I'm gonna be participating in the Big Bang, and I'll probably post about The Fork, The Witch, and The Worm as I reread that but yeah!!! Can't wait for November!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Special Interest 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, age gap, creep behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You find a seat at the cafe with your vanilla chai latte. You place the paper bag with the wire handles on the table and pull out your phone. You love this cafe, it’s like a little home away from home. A much-needed escape from your parents.

You love your mom and dad but they can be a bit much. You’re barely into your twenties and they’re already talking about big things. Like a husband and grandbabies. Hullo, you’re a young entrepreneur, you’ve got a business to run.

Your mother’s text greets you. She wants to know when you’ll be home. You hate to leave her on read so you send ‘dunno’ and flick away the chat. A few items sold! Score. You put some stuff on clearance and knocked a few bucks off. May as well just get rid of it.

As you reach for your tea, you sense something. Like a shift in the earth. There’s a disturbance in the force. Be calm, Jedi.

You peek up over your phone and meet two sparkling eyes. Oh clam shells, it can’t be. It’s that guy from the bookstore. Again! Charles? You can’t remember, you want to forget as quickly as you can. 

You slide the bag in front of you and slouch down, trying to hide behind it. Too late. He’s coming closer. He looks down at you as you try to ignore him, thumbing through old emails to look busy.

He sits one table away. Nice. Very subtle. Or maybe you’re being paranoid. Either way, this coincidence seems less than serendipitous.

You do your best to form a bubble around yourself. You take out the book you bought and flip through the patterns. Those sunflowers are adorable. You could do one for your mom. Oh, what about little bees to go with the flowers? 

There’s a scuff on the ground but you don’t look over. You lower the book slightly, pretending to read the description of tulip as you peek from the corner of your eye. This guy is the definition of manspreading. You shouldn’t care so much but you can see his boot as he has his knees open like a Madonna music video.

You raise your eyebrows as you argue with yourself. You should just go home. Your mom will be happy to see you. Well, happy to have help with dinner. The biggest reason, you’ll be less annoyed.

You sigh and tuck your phone into your purse. You get up and pull on your jacket,sliding the books back in the bag as you swipe up your latte. You sidle around the table and that man clears his throat. Keep your eyes on the prize; escape.

Even if you’re overthinking it, he’s ruined your day. He tainted the haven of the bookstore then infested the cafe. You sip your drink as you pass by the windows of the cafe, refusing to look inside. You hear the door as you brush by the next facade, a hobby shop with dice and cards. Still, you keep your sights ahead of you.

You reach into your pocket and close your hand around your earbud case. You hear footsteps, some ways back, but near enough to track. He wouldn’t follow you… You think better of putting them in and pull out your phone instead, holding it out before you as you pretend to check a notification.

You swipe your thumb up and drag the camera open. You try to angle it so you can see over your shoulder through the front lens. Whoever it is, you can’t see them without being too obvious. Damn.

You drop your phone and black the screen. You move to the other side of the sidewalk as you come to fourway light. You turn, hands in your pocket, and stare at the light across from you, waiting for it to change. Casually, you take the opportunity to glance to your side. You see a blur disappear into the insurance broker but nothing else.

Maybe you are getting in your head.

🧶

You get a strange request on your Etsy. Several purchases with a message from the buyer. You check as you sit in the kitchen, laptop open as you try to wake up. Your mother grumbles as she cradles her own mug and mulls over the day ahead of her. She works from home too but she doesn’t consider your work a real job.

You lean your chin in your hand and squint. You’re stomach squirms as you make sure you understand the message. You feel a shadow looming above the screen and you look up at your mother as she gives you a goofy face.

“Doing calculus?” She teases as you sit back and rub the tension from your forehead.

“N-no, I just… I got a big order but the customer wants to do a pick-up,” you grab your coffee and take a sip, hoping to find sanity somewhere in the brew.

“A pick-up. Here?”

“Well, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t get it, they paid the shipping.”

“Maybe they want the money back.”

“They didn’t mention it but yeah,” you stare at their name.

Most people have their first and last displayed but this one is just Farmer’s Delight. They said they're local but live out in the country so the mail often gets lost. How odd. Sounds like a boomer.

“I mean, you could do a public meetup? Customer is always right.”

“Mom, this isn’t the 90s anymore. The customer is wrong,” you huff. 

“How big is the order?” She wonders, “I mean, your little crafts are so cute but it can’t be that much work.”

“That’s not the issue,” you sniff and take another deep gulp. You go back to their order and teethe your lip. “It’s over three hundred dollars.”

“Holy moly,” your mother gasps, “little crafts my tush!”

“Mom,” you warn her, “I’ll just tell them delivery is the only option.”

Your mother is quiet. She slurps her coffee, bringing your ire to dart at her over the top of your screen. You hate that noise.

“I’ll go with you, honey,” she offers, “how about… you can meet at a Starbucks or something? That’s what they say these days, meet in public.”

“Is that what they say? And who are you trying to meet up with?”

“No one… I’m in this trade and sell group for Royal Doulton figures and the ladies there, I would only meet them with mace in my purse.”

You chortle. Your mom can be silly even when she’s nagging you. You’re just happy it’s not her usual spiel.

“Who knows, hon, this could be your meet-cute,” she spoils your moment of gratitude. You sigh and roll your eyes.

“You don’t even know if it’s a guy.”

“Ugh, okay, crush my dreams,” she pouts, “I’m just saying… sounds like a big spender.”

[chaifootsteps]

Armchair Psychology Anon (not a real Psych just notice patterns)

I dunno if you've seen the new poster for Brandon's new show, Class Acts? It's actually pretty melancholic and depressing.

The tag line is "its never too late to dig up dead dreams".

"Announcing my next series: He's been teaching how to achieve the dreams he can't, since 2009"

But the tombstones on the poster all reflect his inner fears as an artist/actor.

"Be taken seriously" "act better" "teach theater" "be a star" "be respected" "win an oscar" "make money" "find fame" "inspire someone" "be on TV" "find love" "make a difference" and so on

He's talked about having these feelings when Seeing Stars came out. Blitz breaking down about being on a show and not taken seriously as an entertainer as a child and an adult are definitely derived from Brandon's real feelings. I think that's why he was uncomfortable with Stolas (didn't he say he based him off his ex at one point?) being in a relationship with his character.

I've also noticed his social media posts aren't very lively. I'm not sure if they used to be, but he just seems very drained/depressed. The only happy posts I've come across are about his dog or family.

Hell, he just wished his friend Trevor Wallace, a happy birthday online. And this is what he said:

"Trevor it is your birthday."

And under the post, someone was kind enough to say: "Still love that you two are buds makes me hope for Trevor to have a guest spot on Helluva Boss"

This made me cringe. I'm sure it makes Brandon cringe as well.

He can never get away from these shows now.

The low views on his og content vs. his HB content must be depressing for him. I don't think he's particularly excited to be voicing Katie either. I think he's just taking a paycheck for it and hopes he can continue to stay relevant.

Viv probably had him do it to get away with saying misogynistic things. I'm very worried about it.

I think he used to do comedy shows around the US, too. I don't think he's done them in awhile? I really think Viv is sucking the life out of him.

I don't know how to feel about Brandon as I obviously don't know him, but his socials do say a lot to me. I can't help but feel like he could also potentially be a bad person (as you never really know anyone through social media), but as an artist myself, I can relate to his struggles.

If his depression is Viv related, then I hope he can find the strength to cut ties with her.

Jesus...that's absolutely fucking heartbreaking.

Whatever's behind Brandon seeming so down lately, people need to let him -- let everyone associated with this show -- breathe and stop treating them like gumball machines that dispense content. I don't care if HH/HB is your favorite thing in life and you think Vivzie is the second coming, let Brandon have a life and a career outside of Helluva Boss.

[alea-says]

H50 season 10, episode 7 thoughts...

Well, that was a trainwreck of an episode.

Like, seriously, what were they thinking? I mean, the plots aren't always the best in H50 (I know, I love it anyway), but what were they trying to accomplish there?

First, you've got Steve heading off to do the CIA's dirty work - again. They're determined to make all the US agencies out to be complete bastards, aren't they?

Then, they say that no-one can go with him.

And there's questions about Doris' loyalty (ah, Doris, how I hate what you do to Steve).

Only to end with it not being clear what she was actually up to. Like... they're saying, hey, she planted listening devices and trackers, she was doing her job.

But when she was talking to Steve she was like, hey, I just wanted some money. But also to make my entire life worthwhile. And also, I was doing something good.

Make up your mind Doris! Did you want a payday? Or to do your job? Were you trying to do both?

Am I supposed to think Steve now blames himself for his mother's death because she was doing her job? Or am I supposed to think he's okay with his decision (not the outcome, but the decision he made) because she was aiming for a payday?

And why was Doris so certain if he didn't leave that he'd end up dead or whatever, worse, something (their less than 2min convo earlier in the ep).

And why - WHY? After Steve has taken out all 50 of the cartel people with help from Junior and their SEAL buddies, are you standing there arguing with Steve and refusing to say where the cartel lady is? Huh?

Because seriously? It's not like she's a civilian - she's smart enough to know that things be serious now. Does Steve get his control issues from her? (other than the fact his trauma, which she definitely gives him, feeds his need for control)? Can she just not cope with someone else calling the shots for once?

Uh.

I dunno - I feel like the episode was kinda rushed, and a plotline around Doris that could have been interesting, etc was compressed so much it didn't end up making too much sense.

It's not like she's a once-off character. As a recurring character, I felt there wasn't enough development of what was going on.

And now poor Steve is mourning yet another parental figure.

Somebody give that man some hugs.

I am, however, very pleased that the knock on the door of his motel room was Danny (I was sitting here going, please let that be Danny - and it was!)

Also - there was only one bed!!!

I don't care that Steve told Danny to sleep on the couch, we all know he slept in the bed.

[saytrrose]

Someone reblogged your Kinger and Queenie comic and I saw your reblog on curious anons, so here I am.

Anyways, dunno if ya have done this before but ya got headcanons on Kinger's relationships with everyone on TADC?

Like, besties with someone in specific, we get along even if he doesn't know we get along, that kind of stuff.

Ooh!! I really love this question eee

Kinger Headcanons! With.. EVERYONE! (Im including the abstracted characters, they are so so silly in my brain rn and i have a strong perception of them)

—————

Queenie:

- Queenie and him started out with a mutual.. dislike? Dislike from Queenies side, and general uncomfort from Kingers side.

- From the start their relationship was more so small bickering, mutual pining even, They both possess a sarcastic side to them, (I personally believe before Kinger went crazy that he used to be rather analytical and in control, a lot smarter yk.)

- They both were constantly compared for their likeness, which of course gave them a sense of need to.. prove themselves better? To stand out? Saw eachother as an obstacle until FINALLY they tried actually having a conversation.

- Their relationship dynamic is very much golden retriever x black cat.

- Once they actually were in a relationship, Queenie definitely keeps her sassy personality but she’s very soft spoken around Kinger.

- Kinger also changes, they act more differently around eachother than anyone else. Their general idea of “we are different” changes to “we are the only ones that truly understand one another”

- Oh they bickered SO MUCH it’s so silly, Queenie loves to tease, seem like she has a large ego but in private around just him she’s very very vulnerable and relies on him for comfort. She doesn’t feel like she needs to act a specific way around him or ever get really defensive.

- Kingers personality doesn’t change as much as Queenies does around people, however he does lean into feeling more vulnerable around her as well. He tries to seem calm and mostly friendly, but in private with just her he feels like he can actually rant and get emotional.

—————

Wriggle:

- Kinger and Wriggle have a very funny dynamic, as Wriggle is Queenies “best friend is the whole wide world” (quoted by Wriggle, not Queenie)

-They often like to wriggle in between Kinger and Queenie, (hahaha look at me I’m so funny I love puns please don’t unfollow me) they are bit clingy towards Queenie which Kinger doesn’t particularly mind in the slightest.

- Putting Queenie aside, those two I’d say are good friends too. Wriggle loves to ramble on and on to Kinger about things they enjoy or made or did- the list is endless and it’s usually Kinger when it comes to this because atleast Kinger looks like he’s paying attention, whereas Queenie has that.. blank stare.. (autism, your honor)

- Think of Wriggle as a wingman also, They know Queenie well, and things she wouldn’t tell Kinger? Thats Wriggles job. For example, Queenie talks about how it’d be cute to receive flowers but doesn’t want to outright ask for them, Wriggle goes to Kinger and keeps jabbing him in the side with their tail until his attention is gained, and tells him “you know what you should do!!” you get what happens fr

- The wingman job was specifically asked of by Kinger, to which Wriggle, being the snooty little “hmmm idk if I like you enough” worm they are.. obviously decides not to share Queenies private words. (I’m still deciding if Kinger persuaded Wriggle into the idea that it’d make Queenie happier in the long run or if he just dropped to his knees like PLEASEPLEASEOLEAZEPLEASE-)

—————

Slinky:

- Slinky and Kinger have a good relationship, they aren’t really friends that hang out on their own time, but if they are ever in a group then they’d interact.

- Slinky loves to knit and crochet, and she made a task to knit everyone a tiny plush to have. She gave Kinger a tiny stag beetle plush, and he adores it so much, it’s right on his bed. ☠️ (perhaps I could make another post listing all the plushies Slinky made for everyone but idkkk only if it’s inquired about)

- They are the two shyest? Of the whole group, not inherently shy but the most quiet unless spoken to and definitely most anxiety filled. They have an unspoken code of certain looks they give eachother that they can instantly understand.

- In Kingers full honesty, if he was given the chance to choose a person to be in his team for an adventure and Queenie was taken, he’d choose Slinky. She’s just a very patient individual and he thinks he goes well with someone like that.

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Kaufmo:

- Their friendship is like trying to combine oil and water.. they don’t mix easily… They have respect for one another, an extent of it and Kinger probably has more than Kaufmo but they have very different conflicting personalities.

- Kaufmo is prickly and pessimistic most of the time, however I do want to think around Kinger he hold back a little. These two ended up being the last of the old cast, they’ve been through alot together…

- Kaufmo hates lovey dovey stuff, god forbid Kinger even rests a hand on Queenies side or something- he WILL point it out like a toddler grossed out by seeing their parents kiss.

- I think after Queenie abstracts it really changes. I want to assume that is when Kinger finally fully lost every marble he was hanging onto and Kaufmo.. well he realized how much he really missed those two together.

- Post Queenie, I think their relationship evolves from annoyance to much more understanding, not knowing eachother too personally as one would hope, given their circumstances but they would still go out of their way for a quick “are you okay?”

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Peepo:

- Peepo is a super sweet guy, and I’d say he was a good acquaintance of Kingers just for the fact there wasn’t too many guys and they were both very friendly.

- Peepo was the first to arrive of this old group, so he was much like in Kingers place with the current crew. However he’s not crazy because this is likely to beginning of when people started to get trapped in the game still, and not too much time had even passed. Aka, more people were entering than abstracting most definitely.

- Anyway, to touch up on the above one, because of this he has a sort of natural leadership over everyone, people seem to seek him out on information about the world just because he’s been there the longest. This includes Kinger! To Peepo, if he needed a right hand man he actually really relied on Kinger.

- There’s a small place by the digital lake that no one knows about except Peepo. When the sun starts to set he almost always likes to just.. go outside the tent and walk to it, and the only person he ended up showing was Kinger. It became sort of a spot for just them to talk, which is likely what made them closer. Kinger later would use this exact spot to ask Queenie out…Jumping to canon, the only person who knows of the spot now is Kinger, and he often goes there to seclude himself.

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Moppsy:

- Even though I put her here, I can’t really come up with anything! I use Moppsy as the first abstraction Kinger would witness, and likely didn’t really know her or have a relationship with her. Putting her here to include this though!

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Pomni:

- Woo!! Og cast now!! I think Pomni and Kinger will get along well given time. While Kinger is certainly.. eclectic in his personality at this point in his stay in the circus, I think Pomni would be comfortable talking to him about things more than Jax or Zooble, who knows! Just based on what I know from the pilot.

- Kinger used to invite anyone and everyone into the pillow forts he made, but once majority of the old cast abstracted I’d assume he stopped completely, instead using it as his own safe haven. However, Pomni is the first one that he very awkwardly asks if she would like to come inside, which leads to him feeling more inclined and comfortable to invite the others.

- Kinger notices and thinks Pomni is very different than the others, anyone he’s known so far infact and he probably outright tells her this because he lacks the ability to really filter his thoughts anymore. She doesn’t quite understand the nonsense he babbles out about it, but in the series if Pomni finds the exit or changes the circus for the better or WHATEVER goes on as she’s the protagonist, I’m just gonna say Kinger had a gut feeling from the start.

- Pomni seems to care the most when Kinger wants to show someone a bug, and that can be left up to the interpretation that the others just got tired of him doing it all the time and Pomnis not used to it yet, or she genuinely just tries to nod along and it makes him very happy to get a response.

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Ragatha:

- I think during the whole old cast abstracting and being replaced, if we look at the lineup of how everyone entered, I think Ragatha was the only one to actually know Queenie. Atleast see in person for a while, perhaps.

- I think those two would have gotten along SOOO well but!! This is about Kinger,, and I think Kinger and Ragatha also get along very well. She reminds him of Slinky…

- They both know they don’t talk or vent about their own problems at all, atleast anymore for Kinger. They are both bad at keeping it bottled up inside and while they both understand this about eachother, they don’t pry.

- If anything they have tea together often, and only they know alot about tea and really really enjoy it so it’s like their own bonding thing in a way.

- Ragatha came out to him first as a lesbian for some interesting strange reason, though if we follow my beloved trans Queenie hc I like to apply to things sometimes then she likely did it because she knows Kinger isn’t judgmental on lgbt topics.

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Zooble:

- I enjoy thinking of Zooble as an angsty teenage child compared to Kingers senile old dad energy

- I think in Kingers eyes they seem to get along a little bit but he’s just a tad intimidated. In Zoobles eyes they wouldn’t let anyone know how much they really like Kinger, afterall he’s nothing but sweet when being spoken with. It’s a nice break from.. Jax or Caine, even the others who are very emotional. Yes they can be kind too, but it’s like you don’t have to try with Kinger because he’s so finicky that he doesn’t remember every detail of your interaction to judge you on it anymore.

- I like to think whenever Kinger needs help with something Zooble lets out a dramatic sigh and goes to help him (no one asked them to and anyone else could’ve volunteered but okay Zoob we know you just genuinely like his company)

- Zooble gave him a weighted blanket as a gift to include in his pillow forts once and he had a panic attack while under it once because he couldn’t move (he loves it so so much I promise)

- Again hhh Dad Daughter vibe I really enjoy it I think Queenie would’ve adored Zooble like a mother too plsplsplsolsolsols

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Jax:

- Jax would call Kinger a boomer a lot and it stresses Kinger out so much because he doesn’t know what it means and when he asked Zooble to explain it to him they convinced him it was slur and so Kinger got Caine to censor the word boomer

- Kinger is like genuinely terrified of Jax and how much of a menace he is, he’s never known anyone that acts like this mf its insane

- Kinger does infact has some pet bugs in a large terrarium in his room and because Jax has keys to everyone’s rooms he with steal Kingers bugs (an example, the centipede he put in Ragathas room? Probably Kingers..)

- Kinger honestly tries his best to avoid Jax hhshs

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Gangle:

- Kinger is probably the closest to Gangle of everyone in the current cast.

- Gangle likes to draw and write and ramble and everything to Kinger, even when she has her tragedy mask on, he seems to cheer her up a little just by hanging out near her. Kinger really enjoys it.

- When Gangle does have her happy mask on, it irks something inside Kinger. She really reminds him of Wriggle. And he was much closer to Wriggle than Slinky so.. it bothers him a bit unlike Ragatha being similar to Slinky in few ways.

- She introduced him to anime and while she has a giant ass list of ones she enjoys he’s.. just quite fixated on ghibli movies… he finds them neat.

- They are.. autism buddies.. More so it’s well aware with everyone that Kinger is diagnosed with Autism but Gangle isn’t diagnosed, and Kinger is the only one staring HARD like “hhh ik what you are” fr fr anyway because I hc them both as autistic that’s another reason they tend to group together and get along more.