#can the POC kid rest for once

[mymitochondriaforpresident]

Simon: *being treated with anything less than optimal love, happiness, care, kindness, adoration, protection*

Me: 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

@anonfromtheflight: 🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓

[random0lover]

Hi! I was wondering if u can write how simon ghost riley reacts to if u want to fem!reader being all dolled up for an event or sumn. you imagine the rest 😭😭😭😭😭. love ur writing btw 🙏

A Day for First’s and Adding a Second

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x wife fem!reader

Summary: It’s your and Simon’s son’s kindergarten graduation so you have to dress nicely and Simon loves it. Also a little surprise at the end.

Word Count: 1,686

Warnings: slightly NSFW (grinding while fully clothed) so 18+, established relationship, fluff at the end, reader is called love once, Simon being all hot and bothered, Price is your dad 🫣, pregnancy mentioned towards the end, is fem!reader and should be POC friendly! If you notice anything that makes you feel otherwise please let me know! I never want anyone to feel excluded with/in my work ♡

Notes: This is my first Simon fic and I honestly don’t know how to feel about it. Part of me adores it and the other thinks it’s trash, either way I wanted to respond to this request as it’s so sweet and the idea is adorable. I hope I was able to do your request justice my love! Also flashback are in italics.

You don’t often dress fancy but today your and Simon’s son was going to be graduating kindergarten. He goes to a private school at the moment so there were certain expectations and dress codes that you had to follow whether you wanted to or not.

The kids were all to wear navy blues and the parents were all to wear white or black. Everyone dressing formally.

You were currently getting ready in yours and Simons shared bathroom while Simon was helping your son finish getting ready.

You decided pretty quickly that while you would’ve loved to wear a white dress, being around children for up to three hours did not go well with the color white.

So you went with a black dress that reached right above your knees with loose sleeves that went down your arms to help make sure that you wouldn’t be cold with a neckline that was set right above your chest. The dress wasn’t to form fitting so that you would be able to sit for an hour or two without being uncomfortable or feeling constricted.

You were just finishing up your preferred makeup look when there was a light tap at the bathroom door.

You call out a small come in but start digging through the jewelry box on the counter that Simon had slowly been filling up over the years that you had been together no matter how much you protested against it.

You heard the door click open but didn’t hear Simon come in but you could feel his presence there, you always could.

“Hey Si, which necklace do you think I should wear?” You’re holding a necklace in each hand. The one in your right hand was the first necklace he had ever gotten you for your 6 month anniversary. It had two pear-shaped diamonds at the center surrounded by round-cut diamonds on a sterling silver chain.

The one in your left was a necklace that had been passed down through your family line and not too long ago your dad gifted it to you as a birthday present. It has 20 round shaped diamonds and in the center sits an oval shaped diamond with a white gold setting on a Singapore chain.

You usually didn’t have a hard time choosing a piece of jewelry but today you were slightly conflicted and his silence wasn’t helping.

You finally look up from the jewelry in your hand to look into the mirror and find Simon leaning against the bathroom door frame in an all black suit with gloves to match. He usually wears a black face mask out in public but he doesn’t have it on yet leaving it off until you were all ready to leave.

You feel his gaze slide along your body leaving a hot trail in its wake and you patiently wait until his eyes connect with yours in the mirror. Once they do you can’t help the sharp breath that escapes your mouth from the intense look he is holding in his dark brown hues.

A hum starts in your core when he steps towards you in three large steps and slightly leans his weight into you causing you to lean over the counter slightly.

You squeeze your eyes shut relishing in the heat surrounding you. Your lips part in a silent gasp when he slides his hand down your spine leaving it to settle on your hip and in the same moment runs his mouth along the arch of your neck and up to your ear.

“If we didn’t have somewhere to be I would take my time ravishing you against this sink.” His deep voice wraps around your body making goosebumps trail the lengths of your arms.

The impact of his words on your hazy brain makes you grind back against him, he lets out a small groan and rocks his hips into you while tightening his grip on your hip and pulling you back against him causing the perfect amount of friction.

You’re both lost in the moment trying to keep your moans and his grunts as quiet as possible so that your son didn’t hear.

Your body is getting hotter the longer you both claw at each other. It has been too long since the last time you’ve had the chance to feel each other's skin without being interrupted. You can tell that he’s getting close from the way his breath is puffing at your ear and he’s pulling you into him harder and harder, almost lifting your feet up off the ground.

Your ears are starting to ring from the pleasure and the rope in your stomach that is pulling taut when you hear little feet running across the house combined with giggling when you yank yourself away from Simon and open your eyes for the first time since this whole ordeal started.

You're busy trying to fix your dress and Simon is adjusting the bugle in his slacks when you hear the running stop outside yours and Simon's shared room before picking up again and the giggling sounding farther away.

He’s staring at you again when you look up at him making the fire in your body that was slowly sizzling out to start up again.

“The one your dad gave you.” You look at him confused for a moment and he smirks lightly, “the necklace.”

You look over at the two necklaces that had been carelessly tossed onto the counter during your moment. You pick up the necklace he said and offer it to him while moving your hair out of the way making your neck available for him.

You face the mirror and once he’s behind you you look into his eyes in the mirror, “Speaking of my dad,” you let out a sigh,”he offered to babysit tonight.”

He pauses mid wrapping the chain around your neck, his eyebrows lifting, “Price actually offered to watch him?”

You roll your eyes, “How many years have we been together and how old is our son now? I’m pretty sure my dad being mad at you is gone by now.”

He latches the necklace and slides his hand around you to grip your chin making sure your eyes stay connected in the mirror, “I don’t know,” he moves his mouth right up against your ear making you shiver, “I can still hear how mad he was when he found out his lieutenant was doing more than helping his captain's daughter move into her new flat.”

You sigh, mind flashing back to the day that all the tension between you and Simon finally snapped.

You had found a flat to finally move into and your dad was supposed to help you but something came up at work that was a bit more important so he sent over a man he knew he could rely on. What he didn’t know is that you and Simon had been fighting the urge to give into one another and you two being alone all day? It was bound to happen.

Price had walked in when Simon was helping you put the last of the furniture in which was your couch. You weren’t in a compromising position or anything but your neck was littered with love bites. You had a glow to you that you didn’t have that morning when you saw Price, and you were wearing Simon’s shirt leaving him with just a black wife beater on.

The man flew into a rage slamming his fist into Simon's face and a shocked Soap was left gawking until he kicked into gear yanking his captain up off of his lieutenant which was not an easy feat.

Simon didn’t fight back one bit as he knew that this was the reaction he was going to get. The captain had made one rule with his team, “Don’t touch my fucking daughter.”

It took months for your dad to even be okay with seeing you together at all. He could see how in love with each other you were and so the day Simon asked for his blessing he of course said yes.

You're pulled out of your thoughts from Simon sighing into your neck and gently kissing a sensitive spot. “Was thinking we could maybe make your favorite dinner and watch a movie?”

He nods, stepping away from you, “sounds good to me love.”

You give him a smirk in the mirror, “I also have a surprise for you.”

His eyes glide over you again focusing on how the dress hugs you in all the right places, “oh really? I’m going to hold you to that so no getting all cuddled up in my lap and falling asleep early.”

You know he’s teasing so you snort and roll your eyes before shooing him out of the bathroom trying to keep a knowing smile hidden, “I’m almost ready so why don’t you go get our little energy ball in his car seat.”

He gives you a quick kiss before walking out of the room and you hear him calling for your son. You listen for a moment to make sure he won’t be coming back and once you're sure you pull out a little key to unlock a part of the jewelry box.

You dig your hand into the open drawer and pull out a light blue rectangle box with a pink ribbon tied around it. Inside the box were three positive pregnancy tests. You wanted to be sure and didn’t want to get your hopes up so you wanted to take more than one.

You were so excited to tell him about the pregnancy as a few weeks ago he came to you asking if you would ever want another baby. You were hoping for a little girl this time around, the perfect addition to your family of three. Adding a second bundle of joy to your lives.

You hear Simon calling into the house for you and you yell back that you were coming. You put the little box back into the drawer and grab your purse and leave the room thinking about how your life is so different than what you thought it would be and honestly you couldn’t be happier.

Hi my lovelies, I hope you liked this little fic! I wasn’t sure how to go about the ending so personally don’t know how to feel about it and would love some feed back. Anyways I hope you all have amazing days <3

Requests are open! I can not promise when or if I will write them but I do prefer requests that are slightly more specific as I find them a little bit easier to write but it’s not required. Thanks for reading my darlings ♡

[thelilylav]

Y'know what? Fuck it (gives u guys a list of poc artists to listen to cause the white ppl on the music side of tumblr have been embarassing me)

List is under the cut, and warning bc I made it very long

Rock:

Los Abuelos De La Nada

Gesu No Kiwami Otobe

Chuck Berry

Ben E. King

Los Prisoneros

Ahmed Fakroun (ok this one's french art rock but in my book it still counts)

Burnout Syndromes (been fucking w them since I got into Haikyuu lmao)

Infinity Song (their hater song genuinely gets me every time LMAO)

People in the Box

N.E.R.D (my god if u don't know them.. idk dude my brother has been obsessed w them for forever so i just was not getting away regardless lol)

Punk/Punk Rock (& other punk subgenres):

Nova Twins (u must listen to them it's just the way it's gotta be guys)

Rina Sawayama (her hatred of Matty Healy is so attractive. i cannot believe i found her two years ago cause i still remember i would not shut up when i first heard her music it was so good)

BABYMETAL (the way their band name just straight up screams at people gets me every time lmaooo)

Indie:

The Younger Lovers

Mashrou Leila

Stella Jang

Shak SYrn (Jenni is on repeat in my room at any given moment)

Steve Lacy (if u listen to more than just Bad Habit u will find an actuall amazing discography)

Jenny Nuo (i have been OBSESSED w her music since like 2021 ish and it is a crime she hasn't blown up more imo)

Nujabes

Hemlocke Springs (oooo i hate that she does not get more love!!! synth pop and alt indie is such a fun niche like!!!)

Lyn Lapid (in my head she's huge but i have recently learned that artists i think r super popular may be unknown to an entire genre of ppl soo)

Megagonefree (found them on ig and omg!! PLS go check them out genuinely)

boa (i am once again shaming u if u don't know them)

Wallice

JAZZ (in all caps bc I fucking LOVE jazz no it's not dead go listen to jazz rn motherfuckers):

Idris Muhammad

Esperanza Spalding

Joanna Wang (ok she does pop and folk music too but idk she felt most appropriate here)

SAMARA JOY (put. some. respect. on. her. name. i would actually go to war for her i am not kidding. also this is in all caps bc MY MOM GOT TO SEE HER LIVE??? AND SHE DIDN'T EVEN KNOW WHO SHE WAS PLS I WAS SO MAD OMGGG but i've been promised tickets next time so we're good)

Sade (my og one and only)

Funk:

Fadoul

George Clinton (i mean he's just a classic yknow)

Parliament (Give Up the Funk can make me dance like no other i swear)

Stevie Wonder (i mean.. like if we're on the topic of classics anyway then...)

Michael Jackson/The Jackson 5 (moreso his earlier stuff if my memory isn't lying to me.. look it's been a second since i listened to mj IM SORRY i am a busy person ok TT)

R&B:

Valerie June

Maxine Nightingale (if u don't listen to her... how do u have fun? actual question i put her on every time i need to feel happy atp)

Boney. M (technically they're reggae but they also count as R&B so idk.. i'm just putting them here if anyone wants me to move them later i will)

Amahla (Ca Suffit was so good and got me to check out the rest of her music, YOU SHOULD TOO!!)

Mary J Blige (not to judge but like... if u don't know THE queen then idk how to help you tbh)

SZA (wouldn't be a list without her in it tbh. i'm in love w her not even joking abt that)

Kali Uchis (to this day i cannot believe i saw her live i'm truly never getting a better moment than that omggg i have such a big crush on her anyway)

Aupinard (if ever u need to just vibe, this is the man u go to.)

Wejdene (TU PARLES AVEC UNE ANISSA MA MOI J'APPELLE WEJDENE- she's been my day 1 since i was like thirteen i can't even lie)

Annisse (just found out she only has like ~500 listeners on spotify??? apparently i'm one of them tho lmao so yeah go get that number up guys i love her too much for this disrespect)

Sister Sledge

Cheryl Lynn

Reggae:

Daddy Yankee (he's an honourable mention cause i couldn't not lmao)

Skindred (they're a reggae/metal fusion band and i will shut up abt them when i'm dead bc Nobody rewired my brain chemistry!!)

Manu Chao

Toquinho (i was so convinced this man was bossa nova but apparently he is reggae and i need to do some music theory review)

Folk:

Sushi Soucy (oh the things I Deserve to Bleed had me going thru in 2020/2021)

Miriam Makeba (Pata Pata should be enough to get anyone listening to her, just saying)

Lead Belly (do urself a favour and do some research on this man, i'm not kidding even if u don't like folk music u should know abt him- ESPECIALLY if u like Nirvana that'll make sense later trust)

Pop:

Corinne Bailey Rae (she has so much good music that gets ignored bc of Put Your Records On so.. yeah go listen to Black Rainbows she's only gotten better as time goes on lol)

Dru (he is for any person who likes ke$ha. i'm so serious he is early 2000s in a bottle and i love his music ur rlly missing out if u ignore him)

Monique Hasbun (found her recently! she's a Palestinian, Mexican and Salvadorian artist who plays around with Latin pop and does a lot of fusion music. she's dope go listen to her fr)

Mohammad Assaf (he made the Palestine song that's been going around ig a lot, but his other stuff is great as well. he's another Palestinian artist, so once again, go check him out!!)

Pinkpanthress (i LOVE her she's so much fun to just vibe to and idk how anyone couldn't have heard of her atp but then again this is the sight that didn't know who drake was so... sigh. go listen to her if u don't already!!)

Aliyah's Interlude (BROOO if u haven't heard of her actually go listen rn i'm so serious she is so good i can'ttttt ok bye)

Veondre (had a collab w Aliyah on It Girl and is gonna be releasing her own music very soon! she's trans too so go give her some love)

Shalco (wasn't sure whether to put him here or in hip hop, but his stuff is very very good either way)

Ado (she's j-pop but it's a form of pop so into the pop category she goes)

Moon (she's got two songs out rn, Moonlight and Seoul City Drift, and both r going on loop in my head at all times)

Jay Chou (call me a basic bitch idc he's good ok)

Atarashii Gakko! (i wouldn't say they're j-pop, but google did, so i'm just going w it lol)

flowerovlove (just trust me on this one)

El Tio Gamboin (Los Gatitos is such a cute song)

Grace Chang (see note for Jay Chou)

King Gnu (for all my j-pop lovers... come get ur man)

Salsa:

Lalo Rodriguez (included this genre specifically so i could mention him)

Adalberto Santiago

Roberto Roena (he's a classic i can't lie)

Hector Lavoe (i think he might be the most popular one in this genre lol)

City Pop (this is its own genre bc i literally did a presentation in high school abt it and i'll be damned if i don't flex my knowledge now):

Mariya Takeuchi

Miki Matsubara (my QUEEN my everything my-)

Anri

Taeko Onuki (one of my most listened to artists last yr for a Reason)

Kaoru Akimoto

Kingo Hamada

Jun Togawa

Bossa Nova:

Joao Gilberto (ooo he gets me every time i fucking love this man)

Elizeth Cardoso

Johnny Alf (forgot this man the first time around my bad BUT he's called the father of bossa nova for a reason so)

Hip Hop:

Flyana Boss (they're sooooo good i actually can't gush enough i have never felt so girlypop listening to music before go listen to them!! found the duo through ig so yeah if u want go follow them on there too to show support)

Lil Uzi Vert (for any emo lovers, go check out his song Werewolf with Bring Me the Horizon it is SO GOOD)

Samyra (she's slowly curing my body dysmorphia lol)

Yame (there's an accent on the e but idk how to do that on tumblr. anyway my ass loves french rap and before him i was stuck with klub des loosers so he saved my faith in the genre i can't even lie)

Lay Bankz (u cannot be chronically online and not have heard Ick yet, but i'm repping her regardless bc SHE'S SO GOOD)

A Boogie Wit Da Hoodie (HEAR ME OUT-)

Kaliii (Area Codes was one of my most listened to songs last year... as it should be tbh)

Miguel (he does R&B too i just first listened to him bc of his collab w J.Cole sooo)

Tyler the Creator (putting him on here just to brag abt getting to see him in concert lmao)

XXXTentacion (he has been mourned and talked abt an insane amount, but he deserves it i'm not even gonna joke on this one. his artistry is insane and he deserves some love if u haven't listened to him yet)

Kendrick Lamar (i mean i've been reblogging stuff abt him enough. Mr. Morale was actually the album that made me start Listening listening to him and i'm honestly glad it was bc that album is still my favourite to this day if i'm being totally honest)

Renaissauce (criminally and i do mean CRIMINALLY underrated)

[randomishnickname]

Thinking about Amma Crellin and her actions as reflections of the social hierarchy she grew up in. (spoilers under the cut)

Amma is pretty much Windgap royalty. Not only is her family extremely wealthy, her mother holds power over the livelihoods of big parts of the population. Her family history is deeply tied to that of Windgap. The sheriff and other officials are at Adora's beck and call. Everyone knows Adora and deferes to her, and this status transfers to Amma:

She plays the star part in the school play as a matter of course. She can get away with everything, from shoplifting to breaking curfew, from taking drugs to insulting and taunting a police officer. She's hot shit and very good at being a hot girl to boot, on the way to being prom queen like Camille once was. Her friends do everything she wants. Boys, she feels, are hers to control. Others are her playthings. At home, she's at the mercy of her mother. In the rest of Windgap, she's invicible.

Then, Ann and Natalie. Both outsiders who moved to Windgap only recently, their family without social capital worth speaking of. Both freaks, misfits - tomboys and late bloomers, still running through the woods instead of following the norms of girlhood and femininity. Still lacking self-control, prone to tantrums and biting. In the social hierarchy both of the school and the town, they're near the bottom - it's interesting Amma was friends with them once at all, but then this keen sense for social status often becomes more prominent once puberty hits. I think it's a safe bet they were bullied. They were not cool girls. And so Amma, who never faces consequences for everything, who's royalty, who has friends entirely devoted to her - she's safe killing them, in her good right almost, they're nobodies, and Windgap, that she knows so well, proves her right by not even once suspecting her. Had not an other outsider and freak, Camille, disturbed the status-quo, she would have gotten away with everything swimmingly. Her friends laugh about it too - Ann and Natalie's lives don't seem to have had much worth to them.

[I do believe her choice of killing Natalie wasn't entirely out of convenience either - I have the suspicion that Amma had a childhood crush on Natalie's older brother John that got rejected, and that killing his beloved little sister was a form of punishment for this unheard of outrage. Amma telling Camille John fancies her (despite him treating her like a venomous snake in the pool scene) could be a sort of wish fullfilment. Would explain how viciously she latches onto the 'baby killer' narrative.]

And then, Mae. To me it's VERY MUCH not a random choice to have Mae be a black kid. The only people of color Amma has probably ever met in the conferedate nostalgia enclave of Windgape are domestic workers that obeyed her, or workers at her mother's pig farm who defered to her, all of them incredibly lower on the social hierarchy than the litte Windgap princess. And now she meets this black city kid, who lives in a rented apartment, maybe with a single mom. That's not someone Amma would respect, or consider on her level, but instead I think she'd have this deep belief that Mae was her inferior and should obey her, defer to her. Did she plan on killing her when Camille granted Mae attention? Or did Mae refuse her somehow, got sick of being bossed around, in this fight they supposedly had?

And I love how all of this is both implicit and subtle yet crystal clear, in everything we learn about Ann and Natalie, the way their peers describe them (in contrast to the adults who are more proficient liars), in every interaction we see between the white upper class of Windgap and POCs.

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Always There - Chapter Eighteen - S.Snape

Summary: Y/N Potter was left with a baby to care for after her brother and sister-in-law were murdered by Voldemort. One person was there for her, a person she didn’t expect but soon became her comfort person, Severus Snape. During Harry’s third year at Hogwarts and her third year as Herbology professor, a few old friends come around again. Y/N has to handle the feelings of these old friends being around again as well as handle her feelings for a certain potions master all while she tries to hide these things from her godson.

Series Masterlist

My full Masterlist

Pairings: Severus Snape x Female Professor Reader, Potter!Reader x friend!Remus, Sister!Reader x James Potter, Potter!Reader x Friend!Sirius

Chapter Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader(No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, Harry growing up in a loving home, mentions of Voldemort, Bellatrix Lestrange, Sirius' Death, Umbridge, Death, not proofread,

Series Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader (No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, OOC Snape, Harry grows up in a loving environment, mentions of death and murder, poorly written angst, Remus is a shitty friend, poorly written pining,

Please let me know how I can improve my writing and being more inclusive to POC as I am whiter than white. Please also let me know if I have to add more to the warnings! My messages are open as well as my asks!

I am starting a taglist so leave either a comment or something in my asks if you would like to be tagged in any of my works or just this series!

Author's Note: It's been awhile but I'm back! I'm finally getting out of my writing slump! I was half asleep writing this but enjoy! Let me know if there are ANY errors!

Please let me know how I can improve or if you find any errors! Correct me, don't be afraid to! I want to improve my writing and become a better writer so any feedback or advise is welcomed!

Word Count: 1183

dividers are @firefly-graphics

My asks are open for questions, suggestions and feedback!

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

It was a few days later meaning that it was Christmas. Arthur had been released from Saint Mungo’s and everyone was packing in at the Black house. There was almost no space around the house for everyone, the kids hiding out in Harry’s room, the twins spending most of their time in the kitchen with Severus talking about new recipes, Y/N spending her time in the living room with Remus and Sirius and the rest of the Weasley clan was doting on Arthur since his return.

Christmas came and went, as did the New Year, time felt like it was flying. Everyone was back at Hogwarts, getting ready for the start of the new term. Y/N getting her lectures and plants ready for her upcoming lessons and Severus getting his lectures and ingredients ready for his upcoming lessons. On top of his lessons he was also doing private occlumency lessons with Harry, trying to get him to close his mind to Voldemort. However, instead, Harry got a look inside of Severus’ memories. Memories that he tended to hide from himself and future wife, memories of his tormentors from Hogwarts.

“Get out,” Severus said lowly after Harry had entered his mind.

“I never knew my dad was that horrible to you Uncle Sev,” Harry admitted.

“Just please get out,” The man practically begged, “I just need a minute, okay?”

“I’m sorry.”

So Harry did as his uncle requested, he left the room and gave him the space he needed. The boy waited outside the door until Severus opened it and motioned the boy to come back in. They tried again and again but every time Severus was able to get into Harry’s mind. His memories still filled with his aunt and his friends. Happy memories had overtaken the not so happy ones. Harry had managed to get into Severus’s head once more, this time it was a flash of his Aunt’s smiling face, him as a baby in his aunt’s arms, his aunt hysterically sobbing with a crying Harry in her arms, his aunt as a teenager with a bright smile on her face. 

He wasn’t surprised to see his aunt in Severus’ memory, she was about to get married to the man but he wasn’t expecting to see the memory of his aunt sobbing with him as a baby on his uncle’s doorstep. “Uncle Sev, that memory of Aunt Y/N crying with me as a baby, how old was I?” He asked innocently.

“You were 1, she had a rough day, it was your father’s birthday, the first birthday after his death,” Severus told him, “She came to my house because you wouldn’t stop crying and she couldn’t stop crying. She needed a break for a little while just to breathe so I took you for a bit to give her room.”

“Thank you for taking care of us.”

“Of course, my boy. Off to bed, we’ll continue tomorrow.”

The term passed with little to no issue other than decree after decree, that was until Umbridge caught wind of the DA in the room of requirement. Her and her little gang of snitches found their way to the room, blowing their way through with magic. Every single student in the DA had received an Umbridge special detention. The professors first heard about Albus escaping with Fawkes and then about the mass detention given to the students. 

Her heart raced as she tried to find her nephew after the detention let out, but she couldn’t find him. “Shit!” She cursed aloud before remembering the map. She ran to her office where she kept the map stored after Harry used it to spy on her and Severus. “I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good!” She rushed out to the map. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. That feeling was correct because of her nephew’s name with Hermione, Ron, Umbridge and her inquisitorial squad in the dreaded toad’s office. “Mischief managed.” She shoved the map back into the desk drawer before running to Umbridge’s office. 

She arrived right after Severus did, huffing and puffing as she saw Harry being held still by one of the other students, her mind racing and not registering who it was. “He’s got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden!” Harry yelled out.

Her heart dropped once more, keeping her emotions in tact but keeping a sharp eye on her nephew. “Harry, you know you are not supposed to come in here! How dare you break into a professor’s office,” She lightly scolded the boy, he knew just by her tone that she was not upset. “Professor, go easy on them please. Harry just had a bad dream is all, they were just trying to make him feel better, right?”

“Yes ma’am,” Ron and Hermione said in unison.

“If you say so, professor. I will take care of these three.”

Y/N grabbed Severus’ hand, the couple walked out calmly before breaking out into a sprint to get to a piece of parchment, a quill and an owl. “I will head over there, send a message to the order! Be safe, I love you!” She rushed out, planting a firm but sloppy kiss to his lips before running off. Severus quickly wrote off a letter, notifying the order and the ministry of what was happening at the ministry. 

Y/N had found a working floo network, flooing into 12 Grimmauld place. To her surprise, she found Sirius and Remus making out on the couch. She awkwardly cleared her throat alerting the couple to her presence.

“Holy shit!” Sirius shouted in surprise as he threw Remus off of him and onto the floor.

“That hurt! Merlin Sirius! It’s just Y/-Wait what are you doing here? Why do you have that look on your face like something’s wrong?” Remus noticed the expression she was wearing.

“Because I think Voldemort realized the connection and used it against Harry. We need to get to the ministry before the kids get hurt! Sev already sent a letter to the rest of the order, let’s just go please!” She rushed out. The two men scrambled to get up, following her out of the house so they can apparate together. By the time they got there, Harry was surrounded by death eaters, his friends being held by even more death eaters.

“Get away from my nephew you greasy haired fuck!” She shouted at Lucius, blasting a basic cast at him.

She was then targeted by Bellatrix Lestrange, spells getting thrown at her left and right. “Expelliarmus!” She shouted, pointing her wand at the frizzy haired woman. Bellatrix protected herself from the spell before throwing one of her own.

“Crucio!” A green burst of light flew at her, getting reflected by the protego spell. The woman death eater disappeared before apparating onto a rock, throwing the killing curse at Sirius, hitting the man straight in the heart. 

“No!” She screamed, watching as her best friend fell backwards into Veil. She had watched another brother die all over again.

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@acupnoodle @chxelsxaa @fluffyrat365 @fanficwriter5 @atanukileaf @jspidey5 @mija-novella @leo4242564 @crazyunsexycool @livillain00 @bigsimperika @nopedefe

[justrainandcoffee]

Dream of me (Luca Changretta x fem!poc!oc)

Summary: When you are Luca Changretta, happiness isn't something you're used to. Business always comes first. But when happiness has the form of a black woman, even less. Luca deserves something better, his mother says. She hates the singer. But not him. In a world ruled by white vs black, Luca and Aveline are hiding in a hotel room, enjoying their true but forbidden love.

Warnings: Racism. Hurt/comfort. Typical violence. Slightly mentions of smut. || Unlike my fics in modern times, here they don't have a happy ending, although this fic somehow is happy.

Words: 900. || Valentine's day masterlist || Thanks for the help @evita-shelby

The word forbidden is not strong enough to describe the love that bonds Luca Changretta and Aveline Young.

It's not just forbidden, it's risky, it's dangerous for her and his reputation could be damaged forever.

Luca Changretta knows very well that people ready to kill women like her. Beautiful, for sure, but black skinned.

Luca sees her when he goes to the restaurant where she sings. New York is a big city and has a lot of places like that but he has chosen that one for a very specific reason.

His mother knows and it's not happy, she for over the rest of the family, thinks that Aveline is worthless. Because, of course, she was not made to be with a Changretta like Luca.

But Audrey does not know what his son thinks every time he's with her.

Aveline is now singing in his ear. It sounds like a lullaby to him. Aveline is black siren that captivates him with her voice. And her long legs.

His fingers caress her jawline.

"I'm a monster and you're a fragile doll," he plants kisses on her neck. Like a butterfly visiting flowers. "The most beautiful woman I ever met."

"I'm not a fragile doll, Mr. Changretta."

Luca humms against her neck. He loves when she calls him by his last name. His cursed last name.

"No, you're not, it's true. You're strong woman but still I'm a monster."

Aveline knows that. She still remembers that night when he appeared in her apartment covered by blood. She helped him to take a bath and stitched his wounds. Another mafia leader had paid the maximum price for his betrayal. Luca does not stand betrayal.

"That fucker…"

But Aveline shut him up with a kiss. And Luca accepted it. He always accepted her kisses but especially when he was upset. People didn't know how difficult was being like him. Normal people went to work but at the end of the day they found comfort with their family, pets or just alone. But people like Luca… mafia never rest. He didn't know when he was going to be betray or sold to the police. He needed to be alert all day.

And now that they're alone in that hotel room it's the same. Luca thinks that somewhere in the city there's an enemy waiting for him. Chasing his body and soul. Aveline feels how his body is tense once more. So she starts to sing again. Her mother used to sing that song when she and her brother were little kids. It talks about hope and a bright future. And love.

Luca closes his eyes. In a perfect world she's with him side by side, but that perfect world it doesn't exist. He never mentioned it in front of her but her mother made some comments about Aveline that made his blood boil. "Black women are nothing but…" Luca shakes his head trying to forget those words.

"Luca?"

"Mmh?"

"What are you thinking about?"

"About you, amore mio" Luca can see her smile and smiles too.

In a quick movement, he grabs her by the waist and lays her down on the mattress. "I always think about you, bella."

"You're such a poet, Mr. Changretta."

"You inspire me, Linnie."

The woman kisses him. Linnie is a nickname that Luca invented and none except him call her that way. Luca kisses her back. They are the singer and the gangster madly in love in a world that wasn't made for that love.

Opening her legs, she allows him to take her. Once and once again.

"Ti amo…" Luca whispers feeling her warmth around his masculinity.

"I love you, too."

Those hands, full of blood of innocent and guilty people, caresses her delicate skin. Somewhere the bells of a distant church announce that it's midnight. It's February 14 and like any other couple they're loving each other.

Audrey Changretta is a distant memory in Luca's mind while he holds Aveline next to him. He loves her mother but she's wrong. His woman is a perfect person, she's not worthless. Aveline Young is a fucking treasure. Her brown eyes are full of love and it's a miracle that someone can love him in such way.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Mr. Changretta."

"Happy Valentine's day, Linnie."

She smiles and Luca closes his eyes. "Dream a little dream of me," Aveline says.

"As always, doll."

The woman watches him finally rest. He's not a good man, she knows that. She also knows what his family thinks of her but she also knows that Luca loves her. In such a deeply way that no one else but them could understand.

She caresses his hair. One day, maybe, they'll be allowed to be happy together.

[novaursa]

can you write a bene gesserit/asshai witch! poc! reader x cregan stark. she’s part of a covenant like the bene gesserit. The Bene Gesserit aims to breed a an heir and control the universe discreetly but in this context westeros. and maybe a ft of their kids.

https://youtu.be/AL4p4xt4iU8 si=h7B6eW6k1Oz4Z9jg

I'm not currently doing crossovers.

But, I have this narrative in my head where Targeryens were rules of the known universe until House Corrino overthrew them and nuked their planet some millennia ago before events of the Dune happened (aka the Doom of Valyria). And Targaryens were the only House the Bene Geserit could not control or inflict their breeding program on (because Targaryen generics were incomparable with theirs that always resulted in stillbirths). Targaryens are also immune to effects of spice and use it only on their dragons to extend their life and keep them immune to sicknesses. But the spice has to be refined in a specific way and it has to be a very specific variant of it. They are also immune to the effects of the Voice. Curtesy of their dragon blood.

After their planet is destroyed, they manage to flee into the uncharted space with the small part of their people and establish a new dynasty. The rest of the universe believes them to be dead. Meanwhile, they develop unique technology and means of space travel much different and far more advance from that of the Empire.

During the events of the Dune, they resurface and the whole universe is thrown into chaos.

Am I insane and have a lot of free time on my hands with my overthinking brain? Maybe. 🤷

Do you guys like this idea? It would be Leto Atreides/targ!reader AU crossover fanfiction series. I have whole lore written down for it already, along with House Targaryen technology designs.

[bluecrocss]

Those Annabeth "fans" lol

I really wanna let this topic go, but if I have ONE MORE non-black pjo fan, come on to my page and explain to me how "they grew up seeing the book characters (they're literally only talking about Leah, btw) one way, and they just can't reconcile it with the show 🥺", I might commit serious bodily harm...

They act like only white kids read PJO. I was little black girl reading it in middle school and annabeth was my favorite character. Do you think I was like, "oh she's blonde and white, how can I ever relate to her??" I didn't really have that choice, cuz as a kid MOST of the books/shows/plays/movies I had growing up, most characters didn't look like me. The hunger games, harry potter (forgive me, I was a kid), nancy drew, every disney princess movie, you name it. I notice how only white people complain about "struggling to connect" with characters that don't look like them, cuz POC have always had to do it. When POC ask for representation, it is because we have historically been ACTIVELY excluded, not because we can't connect to the characters otherwise 🙄

When it was halloween, and I dressed up as my favorite princess (Belle) and my brother dressed as his favorite superhero (superman), we just wore the wig and the outfit. I didn't need to paint my skin white to see myself as Belle. Yet every year there's this new controversy of some white person painting their skin or doing some offensive cosplay when they dress up as a POC character, because they see the race of POC characters as INHERENTLY part of the costume.

Why does your perception of Annabeth and the pjo characters trump mine, because you're white and I'm not? I fully viewed Annabeth as a white girl when I read the books, and when I saw Leah was cast, that didn't change my view of the character because her race was never central to the character. The author has stated the same thing. If you can't view a non-white/non-blonde version of annabeth (I am not speaking about the writing of the show or Leah's performance because this discourse started as soon as she was cast) as annabeth, then the parts of annabeth that actually mattered, the parts that Rick has identified as the most important, the part that I and millions of other non-white, non-blonde girls connected to, never connected with you. Rare representation of Neurodivergence in a female character, being underestimated (which had nothing to do with her being blonde lmao), perseverance, emotional vulnerability, overcoming generational curses and broken family life, abandonment issues, I could go on...

If you managed to grow to the age of maturity and still struggle to connect with people and view people as equal beneath their physical/material presentation, that is a YOU problem... the rest of the world shouldn't have to hold your hand through this.

And once again... NOBODY FORCED YOU TO WATCH THE SHOW. You don't like the casting, DON'T WATCH. Stop, coming to my comments and explaining how you're the exception, and you're not being ignorant, how, in fact it's the author, the casting directors, and the majority of the fanbase, who just don't understand her character the way you do 🥺

Give me a break.

[xx-midnight-candy-goblin-xx]

Jackson's Diary Headcanons

Because I saw someone else post theirs so now I wanna post mine :P But also some of these things are just canon lol

Jackson: Transmasc, He/him, maybe bipolar?? bisexual preference to femmes (i'm totally not projecting onto him), helps Carol bake sometimes, reads the newspaper like an old man (got the habit from Frank), secretly likes gossiping with Ronald on occasion, spends most of his weekends doing homework or reading comics, zodiac is Taurus,

Exer: Genderfluid, unlabeled (canon) with a preference to boys, autistic, music is LIFE, literally cannot do chores unless music is playing, would listen to Fallout Boy and Imagine Dragons, from Jamaica

Pamela: cis she/her, bisexual, has an undercut because her hair is more manageable that way, had a crush on Brenda at some point, sometimes gets Spanish and English grammar mixed up, her parents have English as a second language so she and Marco have to translate for them sometimes, Dia de los Muertos goes hard 🔥, visits family in Mexico whenever she can (Marco usually takes her because of complications with her parents not being American citizens), knows some traditional dances that her mom taught her, would read the A Good Girl's Guide to Murder series,

David: bisexual (canon) no preference, cis he/him (canon), ADHD, randomly really good at swimming, still steals Exer's sweaters often, would listen to Canon Gray (is it gray or grey?? also hello kitty I know I just summoned you here by saying "conan"), knows how to sew, has small flecks of gray in his eyes, is of German and Irish heritage

Brenda: unlabeled , she/it because yes, models Jolie's clothes, had a crush on Pamela at some point, EXTREMELY good at basically every sport in the history of ever, if "looks like a cinnamon roll could kill you" was a person, ADHD, would listen to Chappell Roan, is of German and Irish heritage,

Ronald: queer, ace (canon), all pronouns and neopronouns but prefers he/she, looks like he could kill you but is a cinnamon roll, treats Jackson like a brother, writes to his mother and sister(s) in Russia often, she absolutely amazing with kids and animals, has the patience of a god, has weekly gossip sessions with nearly all of her friends

Ken: *cracks knuckles*, he/they/it, pansexual, autistic and ADHD, totally has a thing for redheads, sensory issues. thought he was gay for a solid two years before realizing he was pan, they love reading fantasy, favorite animal is a dragon because why wouldn't it be?, fluent in Japanese but only knows how to read Hiragana and Katakana, not Kanji though, loves drawing hates painting, love/hate relationship with pottery, may or may not have the tiniest crush on Jackson, questioned if they had a crush on Jolie (they didn't), would marry Jolie for tax purposes though, has good grades because of pressure from his parents (his grades in ELA and S.S. could be much better though), has MANY inside jokes with its siblings, would listen to Imagine Dragons and AViVA, knows some Eisa dances (Search "mirukumunari" on YouTube, it's one of my favorite Eisa dances), would read Wings of Fire as an elementary school student,

Jolie: demigirl she/they, sapphic, would listen to Girl in Red, loves being crafty, WILL BECOME FAMOUS FOR HER CLOTHING DESIGNS BECAUSE I DO NOT WANT ANOTHER GENIUS WOMAN OF COLOR TO BE FORGOTTEN TO TIME AND DESPAIR, became/will become a big advocate for queer rights and poc rights, took over the cafe once her mom died/retired, Brenda and Ken model clothes for her often, also Jamaican (or from the Bahamas? hmmmmm), very neat and organized and has a calendar that has the rest of her senior year planned out to nearly the exact minute of everything, models her own clothes as well, does photography as a hobby

Timothy: Transmasc he/him (canon), dyed his hair red, writes/draws comic books (Jackson proof reads them like the nerd he is), babysits often, chills in the library at school whenever he can, knows American Sign Language and how to read lips (might be canon?), would've read Warrior Cats, can hold basic conversations in Russian

I might edit this later idk

[uh-velkommen]

More Thoughts On Gen V:

Mental Health:

I've been watching some reviews on the show and I think one thing that constantly gets overlooked is the conversation around Mental Health. Initially it's Emma who is the purger, her ED is linked to her powers (or so she thinks). Then we learn that its more so about her feeling small, being made to think she is unworthy or nothing. Marie is a self-harmer, whether or not you see it that way, she needs to hurt herself in order to use her powers (for now). It could go one of two ways, she hurts herself and then excuses it as "using her powers" (much like Emma) or it's just a bad habit that is subconsciously linked to her emotions (again, like Emma) and I don't think we'll get a clear answer on that until the next season within The Boys - Cinematic Universe (TBCU). But just think about how many times we see her cut to use her powers in the height of a negative emotion versus when she uses them through other means. Most important of all though: The fact that everyone in The Woods who was given Compound V, has a mental illness or disorder. We know this because Dean Shetty, who runs the thing, talks about her experience as a Phycologist and Sam quite literally has Schizophrenia. She chose to experiment with these children in particular because who would want mentally unstable kids with super powers running around? These kids, to her and the rest of the world, are disposable. They are dangerous, until controlled. Now think about Emma and Marie, aren't they dangerous? Well, no, because their illnesses are "hidden." And it's a perfect commentary on how we talk about mental illnesses today. Everyone wants to raise awareness about mental health until they're met with an illness that has potential to villainize the person who has it.

Gender Queerness:

I love Jordan Li! I think the backstory, having them be Chinese and their Dad sharing how proud he was to have given birth to a son where gender preferences with children is still such a hot topic in Chinese culture, was a brilliant move. I think about how if Jordan had never been given Compound V, they probably still would've experienced issues with their gender identity. The Compound V gave them a gift. (I like to think that Compound V only emphasizes something within the individual, like with Emma and her almond mom or the invisible dude and his perviness but I haven't seen enough evidence to prove this canon). And when Jordan and Marie got together I was so happy to see a Lesbian Protagonist double POC interracial relationship on steroids, except whenever they were together, Boy Jordan would appear and I got mad at the show for being heteronormative. But once again, TBCU came through and gave Jordan the opportunity to talk about how they feel like they have to be a boy for Marie, opening the floor for that conversation to happen between the two sometime in the future. It's a point on having to perform to make other people comfortable. The last thing was something I didn't even notice until Marie pointed out, was how Jordan always turns into a boy when they want to be heard or when they need authority. It's a beautiful note on how aware Jordan is of the privileges that come with passing as a boy. Jordan works with the patriarchy even if not fully intentional. It's the inherent entitlement that is instilled in men and the cultural influences that queer people have to actively unlearn in order to fully be themselves. (Also I feel like I made some poor word choices in the last bit. I'm not anti-men, just couldn't think of another way to say it😅)

Racism:

This part is so simple yet it didn't click in my brain until just now. Throughout the entire show we are being fed the idea that Vought could not have too many POC in the spotlight at once. There's no way a bigender Asian kid could be number one. We can only have one Black person in The Seven at a time. But we're watching this show under the guise that we will get a happy ending. The good guys are going to win this... Did you forget what show you were watching too? Homelander shows up at the end and we think the fighting will stop, until he damn near uses a slur at Marie. The NEW Guardians of Godolkin are two blonde-haired, blue-eyed, do-gooders and we realize that the finale had been foreshadowed the entire time: The minorities can never come on top.

[hahyoudontknowwhoiam-blog]

Black n Blue

A Gojo Satoru love story w. mild nsfw content ahead mdni, a love story mostly |

wc 11.7k

"My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep. The more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite." Romeo and juliet.

Brief Synopsis: Gojo Satoru, born into a life of privilege and duty as heir to a powerful Gojo clan, knew love was not in his destiny …But one girl seems to have cast a spell over his six eyes.

Torn between the expectations of his family and the magnetic pull of his growing obsession with Amara, Gojo becomes consumed by the desire to possess her body, mind, and heart…surrender to the shackles of duty or risk everything.

In a tale of passion, power, and the cost of desire, Gojo discovers that in the pursuit of love, he may lose everything that once defined him.

author's note. Written as a POC AFAB ,but it’s hardly a central point throughout the book.

Amara also is the name chosen, as it’s used across cultures and the meaning itself fits the the theme of the book Meaning:Everlasting; Grace; Immortal; To love; Bitter" (from google), but can happily be switched out for a personal POV.

Yet again hardly any smut but there a few juicy scenes…Enjoy!

It was a crisp autumn afternoon, the Tokyo skyline illuminated by the various tall buildings, the sun was beginning its slow descent over the horizon, the Sakura leaves having fallen months ago, casting a almost heavenly golden hue over the playground.

The playground, usually a place for laughter and playful shouts, was today home to something more intense. By the swings-where he found solace from the coldness of his family life, two kids were wrestling, their feet kicking, mouths hurling insults that he couldn’t quite make sense of .

The boy was larger, his body engulfing the other girls frame like a shadow. She was smaller but no less determined, it burned behind her dark eyes like the hot coals on the flame, her long black hair was pulled up into a style he’d never quite seen before, various colourful accessories adorning the wild locks, her brown skin glistened with sweat from the sheer effort she was exerting . Her face was set in a fierce concentration, eyes narrowed, full lips pressed tight with focus. Despite the size difference, she wasn't backing down.

From the polished leather seat of a sleek black Bentley, a pair of piercing blue eyes watched. They belonged to Gojo Satoru, the soul heir to the Gojo fortune, the only inheritor of both six eyes, a young man who had grown accustomed to luxury, ease, and the predictable rhythms of his world. At just twelve, his life was already a series of well-structured schedules, from functions with the elders, and various dates with prospective female suitors- to carry on the Gojo clans legacy. He'd been raised to be poised, to hold himself with an air of superiority, yet something about her made him feel inferior, made his heart pump blood, like it was the first time it was beating.

Gojo’s eyes widened, his unruly hair, as white as snow, falling slightly over his forehead as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the edge of the car window. His chauffeur, a tall man in a crisp black suit, glanced at him in the rearview mirror but said nothing.

"Stop the car," Gojo said suddenly, his voice a mix of command and awe. His breath caught as he continued to watch the girl. She had a natural grace that no wealth could buy, a blend of strength and beauty that was so different from anything he had seen in the girls arranged to be his wife, trained to be the “perfect wife” but to him they look more like obedient pets with no sense of self.

The larger boy stumbled, and the girl took advantage, using her agility to pin him to the ground. Gojo watched as her face broke into a triumphant grin, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of victory. Her expression was fierce, yet there was an undeniable charm about her, a magnetism he couldn’t explain. She wasn’t just beautiful in the conventional sense; she had a raw, unrefined allure that seemed to transcend the standards of high society.

“Who is she?” Gojo murmured, his voice soft with wonder. His eyes remained locked on the girl as she stood, brushing the dirt from her hands, her chest rising and falling with exertion.

“Sir?” the chauffeur asked, looking back at him with a puzzled expression.

“That girl,” Gojo said, his tone firm now, as if making a decision. “I’m going to marry her.”

The chauffeur blinked. He had heard many strange statements in his years of service out of the pretentious boys mouth , but this one was different. “Sir, you’re not even-”

“I don’t care,” Gojo interrupted, a gleam of resolve in his eyes. He pressed a finger to the glass of the window, his gaze unwavering. “She’s different. I’ve never seen anyone like her.”

The chauffeur, ever the professional, nodded without question, though he was no less surprised. It was rare that the young master spoke with such certainty about anything, especially when it came to people who weren’t of his circle.

Gojo’s eyes followed the girl as she walked away, mumbling something at the disgraced boy that nodded his head fearfully, her posture strong, her head held high. She seemed unaware of the world around her, lost in her own thoughts as she headed toward the gates of the playground.

“I’ll find out who she is,” Gojo muttered to himself, a quiet promise. ---

The next day, Gojo couldn’t stop thinking about the girl. He could still see her face in his mind, the way her eyes had sparkled with a fiery determination, how her thick lips curved into a smile as she won the wrestling match. He couldn’t explain it, but something in him had shifted the moment he saw her. It wasn’t just her beauty, though that was undeniable. It was her strength, her confidence, the way she moved through the world as though nothing could stop her.

As his tutors rambled about the responsibilities he faced as ‘the most powerful sorcerer of this age’, and tried to school him on fundamentals of the world, it seemed to fade away like white noise, none of it held any weight. He found himself distracted, his mind drifting to the girl from the playground.

And then, as if the universe was listening, a name surfaced: **Amara**.

Gojo wasted no time. With the help of his family’s connections, he secretly learned everything he could about her. She was the adoptive daughter of Christian missionaries , her adoptive mother was also an artist, who worked with local galleries showcasing her various techniques she picked up across cultures to paint Japan in various lights, many of the profits being used to help victims of gender based violence both domestically and internationally . Amara herself was a student at a nearby school, involved in nearly every extracurricular club, some he’d never even believed to exist, some set up by her herself. she truly was a wonder. Her parents clearly had worked hard to provide for her, her adoptive mother coming from a broken family fighting to follow her dreams despite the setbacks life threw at her and Amara, it seemed, had inherited her mother’s grit and strength.

As Gojo stood in the mirror, adjusting the belt around his silkened kimono in preparation for yet another gathering of sorcerers , he thought of her again. Amara. A girl from a world so different from his own, yet one he was certain he was meant to be a part of.

That evening, Gojo found himself walking through the same park where he had first seen her. He knew she might not be there, but he couldn't help himself. He was drawn to that place, as if it held some answer to the strange longing in his chest, but his solace was no longer a rusty set of swings, it was the girl with the fire burning beneath her dark eyes.

And then, there she was sitting alone on a bench, sketching in a notebook, her legs tucked under her, lost in her art.

Gojo approached cautiously, his heart thudding in his chest. For a moment, he just watched her, mesmerised by the way the fading light seemed to halo around her, casting her in a soft glow.

Amara looked up, sensing his presence before she saw him. Her eyes locked with his, and Gojo's breath hitched, a light flush blooming on his pale cheeks. He couldn’t explain it, but it felt as though the world had narrowed to just the two of them.

“Hi,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically shy.

She tilted her head, studying him for a moment before responding coolly, “Hi.”

“I’m Gojo,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I-uh-I saw you yesterday, at the playground. You were amazing. The way you handled yourself… I’ve never seen anyone like you.”

Amara raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth curving into a smirk. “Is that so?”

Gojo nodded, his eyes earnest. “Yes.… I think you’re the most incredible person I’ve ever seen, and despite my age… I’ve seen a lot ”, there was a long silence that he couldn’t help penetrate. “So what made you decide to beat that loser into oblivion?” he chuckled, kicking his shoes on the ground, dirtying his perfectly polished shoes, palm slick with sweat as he nervously glanced at her, awaiting a response.

Amara looked at him for a long moment, as if weighing his words. Then, simply said “I don’t like bullies, and I certainly don’t like racists”, she turned her attention back to her sketchbook, a quiet challenge in her gaze.

Not entirely understanding what she was on about Gojo earnestly replied, “Maybe I’ll see you again,” ,figuring he was not going to get much more out of the spirited girl, though his heart still raced.

She didn’t look up, but her voice carried a quiet note of amusement as she replied, “Maybe.”

Gojo smiled to himself, a toothy smile, a real smile that no one has ever seen grace his face, as he walked away, already knowing that this was just the beginning. He had seen something in her that no one else could touch, even his six eyes knew this to be true, and he was determined to find out just how deep that connection went.

“I’m going to marry that girl,” he whispered again, this time to no one but himself.

Every other day, Gojo found himself at the park. At first, it was casual, a simple desire to see her again, to catch a glimpse of that fierce determination, the quiet confidence that had captivated him from the moment their eyes met. But over time, it became more than that. The park, that bench, her. She was his obsession now.

He never approached her right away, not at first. He’d wait until he saw her sitting there, drawing or reading, with her legs crossed, her hair braided in a unique style foreign to him, a few stray set in a waved pattern (edges😂) framing her face in the soft, golden light of late afternoon. He’d watch her from a distance, hidden behind a tree or sitting on a bench on the other side of the park, pretending to be absorbed in a book or his phone, though his attention was always on her.

And every time, without fail, his heart would race. It was the same rush, the same excitement he’d felt that first day. But this time, there was a new plan in mind.

He wanted to impress her.

One afternoon, after seeing her sketching in the same spot as usual, Gojo walked up to her, trying to seem casual. He was determined to make her notice him, not just as the entitled brat he appeared as, but as someone who could make her laugh, someone who could be… different.

“Hey, Amara,” he greeted, flashing her a cheeky grin. “You know, I’ve been practicing my wrestling moves.”

She didn’t look up at first, but then the tiniest smirk tugged at her lips.

“You?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Wrestling?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I think I could take you on. Maybe we could have a rematch?” He dropped his voice in mock seriousness. “I’ll warn you, though. I’m not as easy as that last guy.”

She chuckled, glancing up from her sketchbook with a mix of amusement and skepticism. “I highly doubt that.”

But Gojo wasn’t deterred, fully aware that in combat he was far superior . He loved this, the challenge, the fact that she didn’t care about the aura of wealth and entitlement he seemed to portray, with his chauffeur always near by and his flashy kimonos and suits he adorned. Determined to follow through with the promise he made himself.

For the next few weeks, Gojo showed up at the park again and again, each time with a new attempt to capture her attention. Sometimes he’d bring a bag of candy, acting like a clueless, overly eager kid and offering her some with an exaggerated wink. Other times, he’d “accidentally” drop his phone in her path, just so he could kneel down and ask for her help always with the same goofy grin, the same eager energy.

“Here,” he said once, handing her an oversized bouquet of roses after she had rolled her eyes at him a few too many times. “I thought you might like these. Or, uh, maybe you’d prefer a cactus? I don’t know, I’m still figuring out this whole ‘romance’ thing.”

Amara stared at him, half irritated, half amused. “You’re strange, you know that?”

He shrugged, a sheepish smile on his lips. “I try.”

To his surprise, she didn’t throw the bouquet in his face or walk away in exasperation. Instead, she took them, her lips curling into a reluctant smile. “Fine. I’ll take your flowers. But only because they’re not a cactus.”

He left that day grinning like a fool. Even the smallest victory felt huge. She had accepted the roses. She had smiled.

But the more he showed up, the more he became aware of her guarded nature. At first, she barely acknowledged his gifts, tossing them aside or leaving them behind at the park. She made it clear that she didn’t need-or want- anything from him. But Gojo, with his unrelenting optimism and charm, didn’t give up. He bought her a scarf one day, a handmade one from a boutique his mother frequented. He brought her a book another time, one he thought she'd appreciate based on the scribbled titles in her sketchbook. He even took her out for ice cream once, knowing exactly what flavours she liked, his six eyes finally coming in handy, earning a raised eyebrow from her.Her not knowing if she really was predictable, or that this man paid attention to all her minute reactions.

Each time, she would look at the gift, then at him, as if weighing her options. And each time, she’d either refuse or ignore him, but Gojo never backed down.

“You really don’t have to do this, you know,” she said after he gave her a necklace one winter. “I’m not some charity case.”

“I know,” he said softly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “But I want to.”

She looked at him for a long moment, the usual guarded expression in her eyes softening just a little. “You're stubborn, you know that?”

He nodded. “I’ve been told.”

It was in moments like this, when she didn’t immediately brush him off, that Gojo knew there was a crack in her wall. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep him coming back.

---

As the years passed, Gojo’s obsession only grew. His feelings for Amara were no longer about impressing her or winning her favour. He had long since stopped seeing her as some unattainable ideal. Now, she was the centre of his world, the only thing that mattered, his future wife.

He loved the way she challenged him, how she never let him off easy, how she didn’t care about his outer appearances and perceived wealth. Her sharp wit, her fierce independence, the way she could take on anything with a calm confidence, these were the things that made him fall deeper and deeper, almost to the point of obsession.

He would wait outside her school sometimes, just to see her walk out, to catch a glimpse of her in the crowds. He’d offer her his arm on the rare occasions they went out together, both because he loved her warm touch on his skin, and to ward off any competition, but she’d always decline with a teasing smile, telling him to stop being so “pretentious.”

The whole process becoming increasingly more difficult as he entered jujitsu high, having to be more discrete with his actions so they didn’t alert higher ups, or worse Geto who would want a swift introduction. But this was his goddess, her radiance shining like the constellations, entirely out of reach, him being one of the blessed few to bask in her glory, he would not let her eyes be swayed by any man, even if Geto was his dearest friend.

Still, he continued to lavish her with gifts, expensive handbags, rare books, tickets to shows,, often sending out others to ‘suitors’ to deflect the eyes of the elders to his true intentions, but finally after years of rejecting or accepting reluctantly, she began to take them with less resistance. Perhaps it was his persistence, or maybe, just maybe, she had begun to see him in a different light. Not the spoiled kid he’d once been, but a young man who had never given up on her, who had always stayed true to his odd, goofy self despite her resistance.

One afternoon, when Gojo showed up with a painting of a place they had once talked about visiting together, she didn't even raise an eyebrow. Instead, she took it from him with a gentle smile.

“You’re a hopeless romantic, aren’t you?” she said, her voice soft.

“I suppose so,” he replied with a grin. “I’m not ashamed of it.”

She studied him for a long moment, the years between them suddenly seeming to close in an instant. “You know, Gojo,” she said slowly, “you’re not as bad as I thought.”

“Is that a compliment?” he asked, his heart thumping.

She hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Yeah. I think it is.”

He couldn’t contain his smile, though it was more of a relieved grin than anything else. For the first time in years, Gojo felt as if he was finally seeing some daylight between them. The girl he had been obsessed with for so long, the girl he had chased with his gifts, his goofy charm, his relentless persistence was finally seeing him for who he truly was.

And for once, Gojo felt like he had finally won.

The next week was his birthday, a day he was content basking in the presence of his one and only obsession. He approached her with the same goofy smile he has for years, but before he could utter a single word she beat him to to it. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, I know it’s your birthday, you wouldn’t stop reminding me.” She giggled “And it feels silly, but I’ve never given you anything. Not really.”

“What is it?” He asked, curiosity rising in he is chest.

Her soft hand grazed mine, “Close your eyes” she giggled in that sweet voice of hers.

Knowing I’d do anything for her I listened, like a pet ready to jump for its master, then I felt it. Her lips were soft and quick, a gentle brush against mine that made my heart stop and my whole body go numb. I sat frozen, barely processing what had just happened, while she pulled away with that mischievous grin of hers. “There,” she said, as if it was nothing. “Enjoy Romeo. happy birthday!” She giggled, standing to walk away, leaving me sitting there, utterly speechless and blushing, cheeks flushed as if I had burst into flames. My mind raced, trying to make sense of it, but all I could focus on was the warmth of her kiss lingering on my lips and how, for a moment, it felt like maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t invisible to her after all.

And the same words I thought of all those years ago flashed in my mind. “I’m going to marry this girl” as I stood up to chase her.

---

It wasn’t until a few years later, when Gojo was 19 and Amara was 18, that she confessed.

They were sitting together in the same park where it all began. The bench where she’d first noticed him. The same place where Gojo had once declared he was going to marry her, the same place she had kissed him.

“I’m falling for you, you know,” Amara said quietly, her voice almost shy. It was strange to hear it after all this time of playing hard to get, of deflecting his attempts to win her over.

Gojo’s heart skipped a beat. “You’re… really?”

She looked at him, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Yeah, you’re kind of impossible to resist after all these years, even with your sweet tooth and downright insufferable humour .”

“I told you I wasn’t going anywhere,” he chuckled , his voice barely more than a whisper.

“I know,” she replied, the smile growing as she reached for his hand. “And I guess I’ve been waiting for you to stop trying so hard… just to be yourself.”

Gojo leaned in closer, his heart full, not just with love, but with the knowledge that, for once, something in his life had gone exactly the way he wanted.

And in that moment, it didn’t matter how much he had changed over the years, how persistent or goofy he’d been. He had finally won her heart, and that was all that mattered.

---

They were silent, content just to be in each other's presence, the quiet comfort of being together speaking volumes more than words could. The evening air was starting to cool, the kind that felt refreshing after a warm day. Gojo and Amara sat on the same park bench where it had all started, just a short time ago. The sky was painted in soft shades of purple and pink as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a gentle glow over the park.

Gojo turned to her, his eyes reflecting the fading light as he studied her face. There was a softness in her expression, something vulnerable, but beautiful in its honesty. He reached for her hand, gently pulling it to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles.

“Amara,” he said, his voice low and filled with warmth, “you know, I’ve spent so many years trying to win your heart, to make you see me for who I really am… and now that you’re here, beside me, I don’t want to waste a single moment.”

Amara smiled softly, her heart fluttering at the sincerity in his voice. Her fingers tightened around his, the connection between them deepening.

“I’m here, Gojo,” she said, her voice full of quiet affection. “And I’ve always known who you are. All of you.”

He leaned in slowly, his breath mingling with hers. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered, “wanted to do this properly”

And then, as if the world had narrowed to just the two of them, their lips met, soft at first, a slow exploration of all the years of longing, the years of teasing, the years of waiting. But soon, it deepened, both of them losing themselves in the kiss. Gojo’s hand found the back of Amara’s neck, pulling her closer as she responded with equal fervour. The world seemed to fall away, leaving only the rhythm of their hearts and the warmth of their bodies pressing together.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless, Amara’s eyes were bright with the same emotions he was feeling. She smiled,”that was definitely much better than our first” then her fingers gently brushed his cheek. “I think you finally got through to me, Gojo,” she whispered. “I’m yours.”

The following month, on Amara’s birthday, Gojo had planned a day for her, one that was deeply personal, carefully curated with all the things she loved. They spent the month prior basking in each others love sharing passionate kisses that spoke promises of the future. And from the moment he picked her up in the morning, he was determined to make it a day she would never forget.

First, they stopped at her favourite bakery, where Gojo had arranged for a special cake, a light, layered masterpiece of chocolate and fresh berries, just for her. He smiled as he watched her eyes light up, the joy on her face making everything feel worth it.

After a leisurely breakfast, they made their way to the art gallery Amara had always dreamed of visiting. It was a small, intimate space in the city, known for showcasing emerging artists. Amara’s eyes sparkled as she stepped inside, breathing in the scent of fresh paint and canvas. She couldn’t help but admire the work on the walls, and Gojo, always so attentive to her every need, was content to just watch her.

He didn’t say much. He didn’t have to. Watching her immerse herself in the art, seeing the way she was drawn to pieces that spoke to her soul, made him realise just how much he had learned about her over the years. He’d paid attention to the small details the artists she admired, the colours she loved, the moments she shared with him about her own creative passions.

After their stroll through the gallery, Gojo led Amara to a secluded corner of the city park, the very spot they had talked about visiting together one day. It was quiet here, with only the sound of the leaves rustling in the breeze and the distant hum of the city. There was a bench, but this time, they chose the soft, grass-covered hill nearby, where they could see the sky stretching wide above them.

“I can’t believe this is real,” Amara murmured, her voice soft. “How did we get here, Gojo? From all the teasing, to this?”

Gojo chuckled quietly, his lips brushing the top of her head. “I think it’s all been part of the journey. Every moment led us here. And now… we’re here.”

Amara smiled, closing her eyes, feeling the warmth of him beside her. She had waited for so long to feel this way, to be seen, to be loved for exactly who she was. And now, with Gojo beside her, it felt like everything was falling into place.

“I’m happy,” she said, her voice full of contentment. “Happy to be here with you.”

He kissed her forehead, his voice thick with emotion. “Me too, Amara. More than I can say.”

The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting its golden warmth over the park. Gojo and Amara lay side by side, their fingers intertwined, the soft rustle of the wind through the trees the only sound that broke the tranquility. The world felt miles away in this moment, as if they were the only two people left in it. Amara's head rested on Gojo's chest, her breath steady and calm. She had always loved the feeling of being close to him, of existing in the quiet spaces between words.

"You know," Gojo said, his voice low and playful, "I think I’ve got one more surprise for you today."

Amara smiled, her eyes still closed as she tilted her head slightly to listen. "Another one? After all the surprises already?"

Gojo chuckled, the sound vibrating in his chest. "I promise, this one’s worth it."

He gently squeezed her hand and pointed toward a distant window on a building across the park. The window was bathed in a soft, almost ethereal blue light, as though it were holding some secret just for her. “That’s where your final birthday gift is," he said, his words laced with anticipation.

Amara raised her head, squinting toward the window. “That’s... odd,” she mused. “What’s in there, hopefully not a wrestling ring?”she giggled

“It’s a surprise,” Gojo replied with a wink. “But I think you’ll love it.”

Amara sat up, brushing the grass off her clothes. Gojo helped her to her feet, and together, they started walking toward the building. Gojo kept his pace slow and steady, clearly enjoying the moment, enjoying the way Amara’s laughter filled the space between them. Every so often, he would do something, twist her around in a playful spin, make a silly face, that made her giggle, and he basked in it. He adored that sound, the sound that told him he was doing something right.

As they neared the building, Gojo led her up a flight of stairs, and Amara noticed the small touches: balloons, tacky and blue like his eyes that she had fallen so in love with, scattered across the landing. They were nothing like the surprises she had imagined, but there was something undeniably endearing about them.

“Are you sure this is it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at the balloons. "Are we really going in here?"

Gojo nodded, his grin widening. “Trust me.”

He unlocked the door and gently pushed it open, revealing a room bathed in that same soft, blue light. It felt as though the air itself was infused with warmth and possibility. The walls were adorned with paintings, paintings she’d talked about for years. Scenes of sunsets, abstract swirls of colour, portraits of people she admired. Each one a reflection of her dreams, her passions, her creativity. Amara’s breath caught in her throat as she took it all in.

“Gojo… how did you-?” She couldn’t find the words. This wasn’t just any apartment. It was a space that spoke of her, of everything she had ever wanted, of everything she had shared with him in those quiet moments when she let her heart spill open.

“I listened,” Gojo said simply, his voice warm, full of love. “All these years, I’ve listened to you talk about what you want, what you need, and I wanted to give it to you.”

The room was hers, her own sanctuary, her own canvas. There were art supplies everywhere, brushes and paints, sketchpads and easels. Every detail had been chosen with care, every corner carefully curated to reflect her spirit. The blue balloons, though a bit out of place, added a lighthearted touch, a contrast to the depth of everything else.

Amara turned to him, her eyes wide, her lips trembling as she fought to hold back the tears. “You did all this… for me?”

Gojo nodded, his eyes shining with a quiet joy. “For you. Because I love you.”

He stepped forward and gently took her hand, leading her into the heart of the room. He showed her the windows, the view of the park where they had first met, and how the light played in the space at different times of day. He walked her to the corner where an easel was set up, a canvas blank and waiting. “I want you to fill this space,” he said. “Whatever you create, whatever you dream, it’s yours. I just want you to be free here.”

Amara’s heart swelled with emotion. “But this isn’t just a space… it’s… it’s everything.”

He smiled softly, leading her toward the bedroom door, a small, unspoken invitation in his gaze. "There's one more thing," he murmured, his voice tender.

Amara followed him, her heart racing. As the door opened, the room was even more intimate than the rest of the apartment, soft lighting, a large bed covered in linens she had always dreamed of. The walls were decorated with sketches she had shown him in passing, pieces of her soul captured in charcoal and ink.

“Gojo, this... it’s too much,” she whispered, overwhelmed by the depth of his love.

“It’s not too much,” he said gently, pulling her close. “It’s exactly what you deserve.”

And in that moment, with the world outside forgotten, they stood together in the quiet of the room, surrounded by all the things that meant something to her, all the things that meant something to them. He had listened to her every dream, every wish, and he had brought them to life.

And as Amara finally let herself cry, not from sadness, but from the purest form of gratitude and love, she knew that this, this was home. Not just the apartment, not just the blue light, but the way Gojo had made her feel seen, heard, and cherished in ways she hadn’t even realised she needed.

He had given her more than a gift. He had given her a place to be herself, to create, to grow, and most importantly, to be loved. And she knew then, that this man possessed her heart.

With her in his arms, Gojo's obsession with Amara had reached a boiling point, and tonight, he was determined to make her his. Her dark, sultry beauty had ensnared his heart and mind, and now, he yearned to possess every inch of her being. As he stood in the dimly lit bedroom, his hypnotic blue eyes fixed on her. He could see beyond the physical realm, delving into the depths of her soul, laying her bare before him.

Amara, felt a tingle run down her spine as Gojo's intense gaze traveled over her body. She was a vision of voluptuous perfection, her features becoming more beautiful over the years he pined for her, her curvy figure accentuated by her smooth, dark skin. Her full breasts rose and fell with each breath, she looked up to him in a way she never had before and sauntered her way towards the bed, her seductive hips swaying with each step.

Gojo's heart raced, his desire for her becoming almost painful. With slow, deliberate movements, he approached her, his eyes never leaving her face. "You are exquisite, my Amara," he whispered, his voice deep and raspy with want. "Tonight, I intend to worship every inch of you."

A shiver ran through Amara's body at his words, a mixture of excitement and nervousness. She had felt Gojo's gaze on her for weeks, sensing his desire, but tonight, something felt different. There was an intensity in his eyes that made her feel both vulnerable and incredibly powerful.

Gojo reached out, his pale, strong fingers gently brushing against her cheek. "May I?"he asked, his voice hoarse with need, the same nervousness that he felt on that bench they first met thrummed through him. Amara nodded, her breath catching in her throat as his hand moved to the back of her neck, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin there.

With a gentle touch, he guided her towards the bed, his eyes never wavering from hers. As they reached the edge of the mattress, Gojo's hand slid down, tracing the curve of her shoulder, making her tremble. His touch was electric, sending sparks of pleasure through her body.

"Lie down, my love," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "Let me undress you, body and soul."

Amara complied, her heart pounding as she felt the soft sheets beneath her. Gojo's fingers worked at the buttons of her satin blouse ,with each he revealed more of her creamy skin, his eyes feasting on the sight. The top slid off her shoulders, baring her ample cleavage, and Gojo's breath caught in his throat.

"So beautiful," he whispered, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the swell of her breast. Amara arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips as his lips trailed kisses along the curve of her neck, down to the sensitive hollow of her throat. His hands roamed freely now, exploring her body with reverence. He cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over her hardening nipples, eliciting a gasp from her. Purring sweet praises into her ears his voice thick with desire.

Amara could only nod, her eyes fluttering shut as his mouth claimed one taut peak, suckling gently. His free hand slid down her body, fingers teasing the waistband of her skirt. With a swift motion, he lifted her hips, sliding the skirt down her thighs, revealing her lacy black panties.

Gojo's eyes darkened at the sight of her barely covered sex. He inhaled her scent, a heady mix of desire and arousal. Growing intoxicated by her very being. "Let me taste you." He groaned, words forced out in laboured pants. Amara looked deep into his eyes as if giving him permission to do anything with her body.

With that, he hooked his fingers under the elastic of her panties and slowly slid them down her legs, his eyes never leaving her glistening core. Amara's breath came in short gasps as he exposed her completely, her dark curls glistening with her arousal.

Kneeling between her thighs, Gojo leaned forward, his breath tickling her sensitive skin. "So beautiful," he whispered, his warm breath fanning the wetness between her thighs. "I want to taste every part of you." His tongue darted out, tracing the slit of her sex, making her jerk against him. Amara's hands clutched at the sheets, her body arching as he laved her with long, slow strokes of his tongue. He explored her intimately, his mouth suckling her most delicate parts, his long fingers delving into her wetness, seeking out her most sensitive spots. He was determined to know her body the same way he knew her.

Amara cried out, her voice hoarse with pleasure. Her hips bucked against his mouth, seeking more of his delicious torment. He held her thighs firmly, his tongue delving deeper, his fingers working in perfect rhythm.

As Amara's pleasure built, Gojo's own desire threatened to consume him. He wanted to be inside her, to feel her tight heat surrounding him. Be consumed by the fires of the girl he sought to marry. His tongue flicked and teased, his fingers stroking her in a relentless rhythm.

"Come for me, my love," he urged, his voice thick with need. "Let me feel your sweet release."

Amara's body tightened, his words controlling her body like a conductor, she hovered on the edge of ecstasy, inching towards oblivion . Gojo's mouth and fingers worked in unison, driving her higher and higher until, with a cry, she shattered around him, her body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through her.

Gojo held her through the storm of her climax, his mouth never leaving her sensitive flesh. He savoured her taste, her essence, as her body quivered and relaxed beneath him. Slowly, he withdrew, his eyes dark with passion as he gazed down at her.

"You are mine, Amara," he growled, his voice filled with possession. "Body and soul."

Amara, still breathless from her orgasm, looked up at him, her eyes hazy with desire. "Yes, Gojo," she whispered, "I'm yours."

With that, he positioned himself at her entrance, his thick length throbbing with need. He pushed forward, slowly invading her wet heat, groaning at the tightness that enveloped him. Amara gasped, her eyes widening as she felt his size filling her completely.

He whined pitifully , his hands gripping hers as he began to move, withdrawing almost entirely before slowly bullying his length back into her. Whispering words of praise, breath shaky as he succumbed to the pleasure he knew that only Amara could bring. the woman who had captured his heart many years ago.

Amara cried out, her body adjusting to his invasion. Gojo's pace was relentless, his hips snapping forward, driving into her again and again. His breath was hot against her neck, his lips trailing kisses and bites along her collarbone."You feel so good, Amara," he panted, his voice thick with pleasure.

She sang out in response, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as he pounded into her. His thrusts were deep and powerful, hitting all the right spots, sending sparks of pleasure through her sated body.

He claimed her with each thrust, his words echoing in her mind, declaring his ownership. "You're mine, every inch of you," he whispered , his hips snapping forward, his balls slapping against her.

Amara's breath came in short, sharp pants, her body flushed and glistening with sweat. Crying out the words he always aimed to hear. "I'm yours, only yours."

As her words spurred him on, Gojo's control slipped further. His thrusts became wilder, his need to possess her utterly consuming him. He wanted to brand her soul with his pleasure, to leave her marked by their passion."Cum for me again, my love," he almost begged, gliding his thick length into her. "Cum with me deep inside you."

Amara's body tightened around him, her muscles clenching as she soared towards another climax. Gojo's name was a chant on her lips as she shattered, body convulsing in pleasure. He held himself deep within her, his own orgasm building to an unbearable peak. With a final, powerful thrust, he unleashed his release, filling her with his hot essence, his body trembling as he surrendered to the ecstasy.

In the aftermath of their passionate union, Gojo collapsed onto the bed beside Amara, his chest heaving as he fought to regain his breath. He pulled her close, her dark skin contrasting against his pale body, and kissed her deeply, “Happy birthday, Juliet" he murmured against her lips, his hands stroking her hair. "I've never felt this way before."

Amara giggled, her eyes sparkling with memories of past days. "You're pretty incredible my Romeo," she replied, her voice soft and lighthearted.

As they lay entangled in each other's arms, their hearts still racing, Gojo knew one thing for sure: no matter what the future held, he and Amara had found something real, something lasting. And that was all that mattered.

—-

Months passed, and Gojo and Amara were woven into the fabric of each other’s lives. It felt as though they had stepped into a world all their own, a world where their love burned bright, constant, and unyielding, a life free from the shackles of the world he was born into. They spent their days wrapped in the warmth of each other's company, indulging in the things they had always dreamed of. Every moment felt like a gift, and together, they filled their time with the kind of joy that only comes when two souls are perfectly in tune.

Amara had become his teacher in ways Gojo hadn’t expected. She taught him how to paint, not just with brushes, but with heart. She’d guide his hands, coaxing out the layers of creativity he never knew existed inside him. At first, Gojo had been stiff, unsure of how to express himself on the canvas, but with each stroke, with each colour, Amara showed him how to let go of the world outside. He learned to see beauty in the smallest moments, to trust the art that flowed through him. And as he painted, he felt more human than he had in years, alive in a way that only came from being seen and understood.

Her laughter filled the apartment, the sound of it threading through the air like a melody that Gojo had longed for but never realised he needed. Amara made him feel light, not weighed down by the expectations of a world that had often felt heavy and unforgiving, that had caused him to lose everyone he’s ever cared about, not weighed down by the expectations of the clans.

And he adored her for it, for the way she brought him out of the shadows of his own self-doubt, the way she helped him feel free.

They would spend long, lazy evenings talking about their childhoods. Amara’s days ignoring his endless attempts to capture her heart, hours spent doing the most ludicrous things to see a smile grace her lips, dreaming of the day he could call her his wife. They would laugh at the stories of their awkward teenage years, the cringeworthy moments they shared in their youth. Conversations often end with one of them pulling the other into a lingering kiss, and falling into the bed were the passions were laid bare, slick skin and heavy breaths, whispers of devotion as they laid claim over each others bodies.

But still he faced the pressures of his responsibilities as the head of the Gojo clan, juggling between living the life he was forced to live, and the one that called to his heart, a life he wouldn’t dare reveal to her out of fear for her safety. But for now, he held Amara close, breathing in the scent of her hair, the warmth of her body pressed against his. Here he had found his peace, here he had found home.

Until the day in the confines of the Gojo residence, the day Gojo received the letter, the day that would change the whole trajectory of his life.

He’d been sitting in his room, the usual tranquility of his life disturbed only by the soft sound of birds chirping outside, when a heavy envelope arrived. His family’s crest was stamped on the wax seal. Gojo had long known the weight those letters carried, but nothing in his life had prepared him for what lay inside.

The letter was an ultimatum, though it felt more like a sentence.

“Gojo Satoru, Heir to the Gojo clan

It is time for you to fulfil your responsibilities. As you know, the family name must be protected, and the time has come for you to marry the woman we have chosen for you.

Her family is one of great standing, she comes from a long line of powerful sorcerers and this alliance is in your best interest. You are to meet her as soon as possible to formalise the engagement. We expect you to comply without delay.

Yours in duty, Gojo clan, Zen-in clan, Kamo Clan.”

The words blurred in front of his eyes. Gojo felt as if the room was spinning. He dropped the letter onto the floor, unable to comprehend what he had just read.

This couldn’t be happening. Not now, not when he had finally found something real. Not when he had finally found someone who made him feel like he could be himself, someone who had come into his life and seen him for who he truly was, not just as a name or a sorcerer.

And yet, the elders and his father’s command echoed through his mind with terrifying clarity. This wasn’t a request. This wasn’t even a suggestion. It was an order.

Gojo’s chest tightened. He felt a boiling rage rise up from the pit of his stomach, a fury that he could no longer contain. He stood up from his desk, his fists clenching at his sides. He marched out of his room, the walls of his family’s compound towering above him as if they were closing in. The Elders had controlled his life for so long. First, it had been his schooling, then his life missions, and now this. An arranged marriage.

To a stranger.

How could his father expect him to just comply with this? Go along with the elders wishes? How could anyone demand such a thing?

His thoughts spiralled, and with every passing moment, his anger grew, gnawing at him, pushing him to the brink of breaking. He stormed into the grand family room, where his mother and father were seated, their voices cool and composed as always.

But Gojo wasn’t composed. He was a hurricane, a storm of frustration and hurt.

“You can’t do this!” he shouted, his voice breaking with the weight of his emotions. “I won’t do it! I won’t marry her!”

His father’s cold, calculating gaze flickered toward him. “Gojo,” his father began, his tone firm but dismissive, “you will do as you are told. This is not a decision up for discussion.”

“I don’t care!” Gojo’s voice was raw now, the room soon seeming to vibrate with the intensity of his emotions and the cursed energy that bled into it, and before he knew it, he was hurling a vase across the room. It shattered against the wall, the sound of delicate Japanese porcelain crashing to the floor echoing through the house.

His mother gasped, but Gojo was beyond caring. He grabbed a nearby chair and smashed it against the floor, his hands trembling with a mixture of rage and helplessness. “I don’t want this life! I don’t want any of it!” he screamed, his words a raw, jagged sound.

He turned to his father, his eyes blazing with fury. “Do you hear me? I am not some pawn in your game! I won’t be forced into this!”

But his father remained unmoved, his voice still calm, though with an edge of finality. “This is not about you, Gojo. It is about our family’s legacy, our name. You will do your duty.”

A silence fell between them, thick and suffocating. Gojo’s heart pounded in his chest as he realised the truth he’d always known deep down. He had no control over his own life. He was still bound by the invisible chains of his family’s expectations, expectations of the clans.

And so, he stormed out of the room, his mind reeling, his heart torn in two.

---

For the next few days, Gojo barely slept, his only reprise the fleeting moments he spent with Amara, lies of being consumed with work spilling through his teeth like poison. He couldn’t eat. His thoughts were consumed by the impossible choice he now faced: a life with Amara, the only person who had ever truly understood him, or a life in the gilded cage the elders had built for him.

But despite the turmoil inside him, Gojo made a choice. He couldn’t tell Amara. Not yet.

He loved her too much to burden her with this. She had always been free, so strong, so independent, and Gojo knew she would never accept a life where he wasn’t free to choose her. No matter how much it hurt him to lie to her, in a way much different to hiding his true identity , he couldn’t risk losing her.

And so, Gojo kept his secret. Every day, he put on the mask of the carefree, goofy young man she had come to love, the one who would make her laugh and spoil her with gifts, who would share tender kisses and dream of a future where nothing mattered except the two of them.

---

Days turned into weeks, and despite the gnawing pain that ate away at his soul, Gojo remained steadfast in his devotion to Amara. He continued to surprise her with flowers, handpicked books, and her favourite chocolate. He would plan little adventures, taking her to art shows, cooking her favourite meals, or simply staying in and watching movies, just the two of them.

Amara was everything to him. She had always been his escape, his solace in a world that expected so much from him. He would lie to her face, tell her that everything was fine, all while his heart shattered inside. But he couldn’t let her see the truth, not when they were so happy, so in love.

He would hold her hand, kiss her forehead, and pretend like he wasn’t being torn apart inside. Caress her soft skin as he eased his length into her at night, whispers of love echoing around the room. But the more he lied, the more it ate at him. The guilt gnawed at his insides, making it harder and harder to be the man he wanted to be for her.

Amara, for her part, was oblivious to the turmoil swirling beneath his smile. She saw the love in his eyes, the way he would do anything just to make her smile. She adored him, his silly antics, his sweet gestures, the way he made her feel cherished in every moment. The way his hypnotic eyes would stare into her sole as he worshiped her body at night, entranced by the sheer passion behind them.

One evening, after a particularly beautiful dinner he’d cooked for her, they sat together on the couch, her head resting on his chest as they watched the stars through the window.

“Gojo,” she murmured, her voice soft, “you always know how to make me feel so special. I’m so lucky to have you.”

Gojo’s heart squeezed at the words. He kissed her forehead, his voice tight, fighting to keep his emotions in check. “No, Amara. I’m the lucky one.”

But deep down, he knew he wasn’t. He wasn’t lucky at all. Not anymore.

---

As the days wore on, Gojo’s obsession with making Amara smile grew. He would buy her more extravagant gifts, write her notes, and shower her with affection. But each time he did, the lie in his heart became heavier. The more he gave her, the more he felt the weight of the truth pressing down on him.

One evening, as they were sharing a quiet moment at the park, Amara turned to him with a soft smile. “I love the way you make me feel, Gojo,” she said, her voice full of affection. “It’s like I can’t help but be happy when I’m with you.”

Gojo’s smile faltered for just a moment. “I’m glad,” he said softly, but the words felt hollow in his mouth.

And in that moment, as he looked into her eyes, eyes full of love, trust, and happiness, he realised just how much he was willing to sacrifice for her.

His heart ached as he thought about the arranged marriage. The life he was supposed to lead, the life the clans had planned for him. But every time he looked at Amara, he knew one thing for sure: he couldn’t live without her.

But the secret he was keeping, the one he had promised himself would stay buried, was beginning to suffocate him.

As the weeks passed, the lies started to feel less like a heavy burden and more like a part of his new routine. The days bled into one another, easy, joyful, filled with the kind of laughter that made Gojo feel like a different person. A *better* person.

Amara was his refuge. Every time he looked at her, every time they shared a joke, or held hands, or kissed in the soft, moonlit glow of her apartment, it felt like the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders, if only for a moment. She was his joy, his escape from the rigid constraints of his family’s demands.

They spent hours together, cooking dinner for each other, more often than not, it was Amara leading the way in the kitchen, her laughter filling the air as Gojo played the fool, pretending to be a terrible chef by purposefully making a mess. He’d throw flour everywhere and pretend to "accidentally" burn things, making her laugh until her cheeks hurt. In return, she’d teach him how to make her favourite dishes, and they’d share them, talking about everything and nothing at all.

And at night he would lay her down on the bed they shared, only when his long cock is buried into her that he feels whole again, groans of sweet praises and words of affection sending thrums of pleasure through her, their tongues mirroring the rhythm of their bodies.

Gojo drawing her in with a magnetic pull that neither could resist, lips brushing against her ear, raw passion consuming them, and when her mouth falls over his length, he loses himself completely to the pleasure she gives him, becoming a whining mess under her slick tongue. Shocks of electricity corse through her as soft hands brushed her face and thumbed at her lips.

Symphonic moans, testaments to their pleasure. Hands grasped at shoulders, fingers sinking into flesh, a harmonious accumulation of their love that even her art couldn't express. Their love melting into a crescendo of pleasurable cries as they unleash their souls into one another.

And as they lay there, their bodies entangled, only then Gojo's thoughts turn away from the stresses of his family responsibilities. In Amara's arms, he found an escape, a refuge where he could immerse himself in love and pleasurable bliss and forget about the harsh reality of his existence, if only for a short while.

Amara loved his authenticity, the way he never tried to be anyone other than who he was. Gojo never put on airs with her. He was goofy, self-deprecating, and wholly himself, like a breath of fresh air she had always longed for. She saw him not as a sole heir to the Gojo clan or a wealthy man, but as the man who could make her laugh on a bad day, who could calm her when she was restless, and whose hands, whenever they touched hers, made her feel like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

And Gojo? He was falling harder every single day.

They were inseparable, caught in a whirlwind of love that only seemed to grow more intense with each passing moment. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other, sometimes in the middle of a joke, Gojo would pull her into his arms and kiss her deeply, stealing her breath away. Other times, they’d lie side by side on her couch, their fingers entwined, their hearts beating in perfect rhythm as they whispered secrets and dreams to each other.

---

But despite the joy he found in Amara’s arms, Gojo’s reality still lurked just outside the bubble they had created. Every few days, there would be a knock at the door of his family’s mansion, a letter or a phone call reminding him of his duty, reminding him that his life wasn’t his own, no matter how free he felt with Amara.

The arranged dates were the worst. Each time, Gojo would put on a mask, a mask of politeness, of indifference. He would sit across from a woman he had never met, forced to talk about things that mattered so little to him, all while his mind raced back to Amara.

How could he sit there, pretending to be interested in someone else, when he knew he was already in love? When he could still feel the warmth of Amara’s skin against his, the taste of her lips fresh on his mouth?

But what else could he do? The future his father had planned for him was an inescapable web. He would attend the meetings, go through the motions, and when it was all over, he would return to Amara’s side, where he could forget about the life he was supposed to live.

He never told her about the dates. He couldn’t. Not when it would hurt her. Not when everything they had felt so perfect, so real. Instead, he’d smile and make her laugh, giving her all of his attention the moment he returned to her.

But as time went on, the guilt began to creep in, slipping through the cracks of his carefully constructed happiness. Each time he returned home from one of the arranged meetings, dinner with a stranger, exchanging polite words with a woman who was nothing more than a pawn in a game of family alliances, he felt the weight of the lie pressing down on him.

The guilt gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside. Amara never asked about his family’s business, and Gojo never volunteered the information. He simply let the days flow as they were, one beautiful, blissful day after another. He never mentioned the awkward silences of those arranged meetings, or how, every time he was forced to sit across from someone he could never care about, he would count down the minutes until he could escape back to the one place he felt free, back to Amara.

Where he drowned himself in the pleasures between her thighs, drowning in the nectar of her sweet essence. Content, in letting her breathe moans into his ears as he devoted his entire self into pleasing the woman that had gave his life meaning.

It was easier to pretend. Easier to act like nothing had changed. Every time he kissed her, he could forget. Every time she smiled at him, it was like the weight of the world lifted for just a few precious seconds.

But every day, the lie was eating at him. Gojo could feel it in his gut, the gnawing sensation that he was betraying the one person who trusted him with everything.

---

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and they sat together on her balcony, Amara leaned against him, her eyes closed in contentment. Gojo felt a pang in his chest as he looked down at her, her face peaceful, unaware of the storm raging inside him.

“Gojo,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper, “I’ve never felt so happy. You make me feel like I’m the only one in the world that matters.”

His heart twisted painfully. He kissed the top of her head, his throat tight. “You are the only one that matters,” he murmured, though the words felt like a lie in the pit of his stomach.

She looked up at him, her eyes full of love, her gaze so trusting that it made his heart ache.

“Promise me, Gojo,” she said, her voice almost too soft, “that nothing will ever come between us. No matter what happens, we’ll always have this.”

The words hung in the air like a fragile thread, binding them together in a moment of pure connection. Gojo wanted to scream, to tell her everything, to confess the weight of the lies he had been carrying for so long. But he couldn’t bring himself to shatter the delicate bubble of happiness they had created.

“I promise,” he said quietly, though the words felt empty. He promised to stay, to love her with everything he had, but deep down, he knew he couldn’t keep that promise forever. He knew there would come a day when his family’s decisions would collide with the life he had built with her, and there would be no way to hide the truth anymore.

But for now, he would let himself be lost in her arms, in her smile, in the warmth of their shared moments. He would keep lying to himself and to her, pretending everything was fine.

Because when she kissed him, when she laughed at his goofy jokes, when she simply existed beside him, everything felt perfect, even if it was all built on a lie.

---

The days continued to pass, and Gojo remained trapped in his double life. But in the moments when Amara’s eyes met his, when they held hands or shared a quiet, intimate kiss, he allowed himself to forget. At least for a while, he could pretend that he wasn’t a pawn in a game he didn’t choose.

At least for now, he could be the man she loved, and the man he wished he could be.

Amara stood at the gates of Gojo's estate, his shared location beaming on the screen of her phone, her heart light with excitement. The gift in her hands felt like something special, a small token of her love for him. She had been thinking about him all day, the warmth of his smile, the way he made her feel like she was the only person in the world. She was eager to return the watch he'd left at her apartment, to see him again, and maybe even share a quiet moment together. As she approached the gate, the butler looked her over with a cold, disinterested gaze.

“May I ask who you are?” he inquired, his tone formal.

Amara’s heart fluttered in surprise. “I’m Amara,” she replied, confused. “Gojo’s girlfriend.” She laughed lightly, unsure why that would need to be clarified.

The butler’s face remained impassive. “The young master is with his fiancée,” he sneered, barely disguising the contempt in his voice. “You’re unworthy of him.”

The words hit her like a cold slap, and her breath caught in her throat. She stood there, frozen, momentarily unsure of how to respond. Her hands shook slightly as she placed the watch and the wrapped gift in his hands. “Please... pass this along to him once he’s done,” she said softly, fighting to keep her voice steady.

The butler said nothing, but his icy demeanour spoke volumes. She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat, and turned to leave, her steps heavy with the weight of his words. She felt like she had just been dismissed, like the love she had for Gojo had somehow been reduced to something insignificant.

Amara forced herself not to cry, keeping her composure as she walked away from the estate, her heart breaking with each step. The world around her seemed to blur, the brightness of the day dimming as the sadness closed in. She refused to break down in front of anyone, not yet. But as soon as she reached her apartment and shut the door behind her, all her strength unraveled.

Tears streamed down her face as she sank to the floor, her sobs raw and desperate. Her chest felt tight, as if her heart was splintering into pieces. The words of the butler echoed in her mind: “unworthy of him.” She screamed, a sound of frustration and pain, but it did nothing to ease the ache inside her. How had she been so wrong? How had she not seen the signs? She had given everything to Gojo, believed in him so deeply, only to find that he was already spoken for.

In the midst of her grief, she gathered herself together, wiping her tears with shaky hands. She packed her things, each item she placed into her bag feeling like a weight she couldn’t carry anymore. She moved through her apartment mechanically, still numb from the pain. When she finished, she grabbed a pen and quickly wrote a note to Gojo:

“I guess I was never enough for you. Goodbye.”

With one last look around, she left her apartment, leaving the note behind as a final farewell.

As she stepped out into the night, her heart felt as empty as the room she left behind.

The evening dragged on painfully for Gojo. His fiancee , a well-mannered woman with an air of sophistication, seemed to have little in common with him beyond formal pleasantries. His thoughts, however, were elsewhere, with Amara. He couldn’t stop thinking about her laughter, her warmth, the way she made him feel like he was the only person in the world who mattered. Every conversation at the table felt like a distant echo. He kept imagining the way she smiled, the way her eyes softened when she looked at him. Nothing else seemed to matter.

As soon as the dinner ended, Gojo excused himself under the pre-tense of an late meeting with the head of the Kamo clan. The moment he got to his room, he called for his butler, his mind clouded with thoughts of Amara. He needed to hear from her. But when the butler arrived with the item she had left behind, there was something in the air, something unsettling in the way the butler held the small package. The butler’s expression was cold, his eyes narrow, but Gojo didn't pay it much mind.

He tore open the gift with a mix of anticipation and worry, his mind still caught in the fog of uncertainty about where Amara stood with him. A small white box fell open in his hands, and inside was a pregnancy test, a *positive* one. His heart stopped.

No.

A sense of dread suddenly besieged him it was like he could tell something was not afoot.

Gojo’s world tilted, the room spinning around him. His body moved before his mind had a chance to catch up, his legs carrying him to the car, to Amara’s apartment, a place that once felt like a sanctuary. He ignored the frantic calls from his fiancée and the messages from his staff as they bombarded him. There was only one thing on his mind, getting to her. He had to fix this.

When he arrived at Amara’s apartment, the emptiness hit him first. It felt wrong, too quiet, too still. He opened the door to find it completely cleared out, the space where her things once were now bare and hollow.

On the kitchen counter, a note lay waiting for him. His fingers trembled as he picked it up, his heart pounding in his chest. He read it over and over again, each word sinking into him like a dagger. “I guess I was never enough for you. Goodbye.”

His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor, the note crumpling in his hands. For the first time in his life, he felt utterly lost. His mind raced through the memories they had shared, the quiet nights, the stolen kisses, the way she would rest her head on his shoulder and make him feel like everything was right in the world. He loved her. He had loved her in a way that was supposed to last, in a way he thought would endure.

But she was gone.

Gojo’s breath came in ragged gasps as he stood up, his hands shaking with the weight of his guilt and despair. His eyes landed on a framed picture of him and Amara, taken on a day they had spent laughing, carefree, surrounded by sunlight and joy, the day she said she was lucky to have him, hanging on the barren walls, all her art work seemingly taken away. Without thinking, his fist collided with the glass, shattering it into jagged pieces. A sharp pain coursed through his knuckles as he pulled his hand back, a dark crimson stain spreading across his skin, his infinity failing him. But the pain didn't matter. It was nothing compared to the ache inside him.

He looked down at the blood seeping from his hand, a symbol of how broken he felt, of how shattered his entire world had become. The woman who had given him a reason to breathe, to keep going, had left him. And with her went the future he had imagined, one where they built a life together, one where they shared everything. But that was gone now.

His body trembled as he sank to his knees in the middle of the apartment, his sobs wracking his chest, raw and uncontrollable. He cried for Amara, for the child that would never know its mother or father together. He cried for the life he had lost and for the love he had thrown away, too blind, too foolish to see what was right in front of him.

Memories of her flooded his mind: her voice, her smile, the way she had been there for him even when he didn't deserve it. Now, all that was left were the ghosts of what could have been. The apartment, now empty and silent, felt like a tomb.

Gojo was broken. And he didn’t know if he could ever be whole again.

#gojo satoru #original character #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x original character #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk fluff #gojo satoru fluff #satoru x you #jujutsu satoru #jjk satoru #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru smut #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jujutsu gojo #gojo fluff #gojo smut #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff#fluff #gojo x original character #gojo x original female character #jjk x original female character #loads of plot #hardly any porn #POC reader #POC original character

[inks-books]

Writeblr Reintroduction Under New Name

FORMERLY PGA-BOOKS I'M NOW INKS-BOOKS for publishing reasons.

Call me Ink(s)! Or I. N. Knight as my published name will be once I get there.

Note: I follow from xxinksxx.

I’m using this to find more writeblrs as well as promote my work written so far The Tales of Dai-Nē, Curiosity Killed the Elf, Love Triangle Gone Wrong, and more! 

First off I’m looking for: 

-Writeblrs who do fantasy, romance, and mystery but anything with supernatural elements is my jam.

-I’m also a sucker for witty characters and great dialogue!

-I would like to see more disabled characters, POC characters, and just generally fun characters to read about because that’s what I like to write about. 

Some Things You’ll See Here:

-Tag games (comment on this if you would like to be tagged in tag games!)

-Positive writing memes

-Writing ramblings

-Posting of snippets

-Boosts from other writeblrs

My works:

Curiosity Killed the Elf: Available for order here https://a.co/d/2n8QzP9 on Amazon.

(Working Title) The Blue Eyed Thief: When her friend Melody is stolen right before her eyes by men in masks, Nindé tries to go after them to stop them but fails. Nindé then goes to her family for help, but her father and brother turn against her, thinking she's lying and leading them into a trap by the government to harness dragon shifter's energy. Setting out on her own to survive and find Melody again, Nindé goes on a journey where she meets several people that change the course of her fate. Will she ever find Melody again? Or will her family get to her first? In this action thriller, Nindé finds hope, loss, and love in the journey of a lifetime to get her friend back. With no leads and nowhere to go, can she find where she belongs or will she die trying?

The Tale of Dai-Ne: The adventures of 4 teens who are swept into a world of magic and chaos and must prevent the veil between the magic and non-magic world from collapsing, all the while surviving their training to become the most powerful magic users in the two worlds. Can they unlock the secrets of the past before the forgotten race of Fae tear down the veil and take everyone out with them?

Love Triangle Gone Wrong: Ethan is a werecat in a small southern town full of paranormal beings that hide from the rest of the world. Lucien was cursed to be a wolf when the moon present and is only free on nights when there is a no moon showing. The two of them imprint on a newcomer in town named Hope. The kicker? Hope is married with a kid on the way and the boys catch feelings for the wrong person. Follow Ethan, Lucien, Hope, and their friends as this love triangle unfolds in all the wrong (right?) directions and they try to keep Hope from finding out the dark truth about their small town world.

Bonus Story:

Pinjas of the Corn (working title): A webcomic where pig ninjas and cat samurai work against each other to find the missing pieces of an ancient armor that can command the dead armies that were buried with the old emperor. The ninjas must find it before it falls into the wrong hands and the cat samurai try to take over the world. But is everything quite as it seems or is there someone working against them that they trust very dearly?

Conclusion:

Thanks for reading this far! Please tell me what you think, a little about yourself if you’re a new follower, and boosts are appreciated.

[aronarchy]

(@/eviltothecore13 on 10/10/22 in the replies of this post):

Please, please, stop saying “the homeschooling movement” as if there’s one homeschooling movement across the whole world! this post is so US-centric… there are parts of the world where the majority of homeschoolers are not religious at all. I was homeschooled in the UK after my parents took me out of school because of the abuse I suffered there. We are not Christian or religious at all.

My best friend at my homeschool group was Jewish, taken out of school by his very left-wing mother after he experienced horrific antisemitism as well as bullying for being autistic. Most of the rest of us were not particularly religious, there were a couple of Muslims, and yes a handful of people who were to some extent Christian but that wasn’t their motivation for homeschooling. My parents never hit me. My teachers at school thought they should have done.

Was it ideal? not in every way, no. It costs money, it’s not accessible to poorer families or to families where both parents are out at work all day, and seeing different people every day at various groups and classes but never seeing any one person more regularly than once a week does make it harder to form close friendships (then again, it means you don’t end up inescapably trapped with the same bully every day.)

But we were a group of people who had tried the school system, public and private, been mistreated, been traumatised, had the schools try to blame it on us simply being “bad kids,” and found our parents were our only allies and the only people still willing to even TRY to give us an education. It was a rural county. If you got a bad reputation at one school it would follow you to the next because everyone knew each other and teachers gossiped about their students.

Whereas the homeschool group and the tutors there welcomed you whether you were autistic, ADHD, dyspraxic, dyslexic, dyscalculic, atheist, Jewish, Muslim, a POC, GNC (to my knowledge no-one was out as queer, but only because we were all young and figuring it out and we were in a homophobic area in general—the environment was certainly far less homophobic than school though, and definitely none of my friends who did go to school were out as queer at that age either)

It can be horrible. If the parents don’t have the child’s best interests at heart, if they’re authoritarian, then it can indeed put a terrible amount of power in their hands. If the parents are like mine, who listen to the child and respect them as a person, who consider it their JOB to listen to their child’s wishes and do their best to make them happy, then it gives far more power to the CHILD than the school system does.

If I disliked a tutor or a textbook or anything about my education, I could discuss it with my parents and we’d find a way to change it. It is MUCH harder to do that in the school system—believe me, as someone who tried to express my problems with teachers who abused me to the school system MULTIPLE times and NEVER got the school system to fire someone or even to put me in a different class.

And you say “the homeschooling movement” when you seem to only mean the American Christian one… I’d never heard of the HSLDA before this post, they’re NOT A THING over here, apparently they’re a “Christian organisation” which immediately makes me distrust them, but homeschooling here has NOTHING to do with that movement, please stop acting as if the American experience is universal!

I suffered infinitely more from the stigma around homeschooling (from other kids: “so, why can’t you go to school? is there something wrong with you? are you [r-slur]?” “oh you're homeschooled? I bet you don’t even know the alphabet, I bet you’re stupid”—I took the same GCSE exams as every schoolkid while I was homeschooled and got all A*s) and from feeling like I had to be perfect to prove that stigma wrong than from anything to do with homeschooling in itself.

If I ever have children (which I don’t currently plan to) or ever find myself in a position of responsibility for a child, unless our school system and government has been radically reformed, I could not in good conscience send them to school to go through what I did when I was at school.

And even if under one government things improve… the next could fuck it up again… we used to have Section 28 banning schools from teaching kids that being queer was at all acceptable… imagine if that was brought back…

If an oppressive government comes into power, and the schools are suddenly teaching kids “people like you [your families, your friends, etc] don’t deserve human rights,” I think there needs to be a way for children to still get an education outside of the school system (though let’s face it, an oppressive government would quite possibly make homeschooling illegal anyway, the Nazis did).

Children should not be faced with a situation where their ONLY way to get the qualifications needed to go to university, get a job, etc is to go through an oppressive and abusive school system. They need to have the choice of whether to go to school or not, not be forced to go somewhere that abuses them with no alternative.

.

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Always There - Chapter Eleven: S.Snape

Summary: Y/N Potter was left with a baby to care for after her brother and sister-in-law were murdered by Voldemort. One person was there for her, a person she didn’t expect but soon became her comfort person, Severus Snape. During Harry’s third year at Hogwarts and her third year as Herbology professor, a few old friends come around again. Y/N has to handle the feelings of these old friends being around again as well as handle her feelings for a certain potions master all while she tries to hide these things from her godson.

Series Masterlist

My full Masterlist

Pairings: Severus Snape x Female Professor Reader, Potter!Reader x friend!Remus, Sister!Reader x James Potter, Potter!Reader x Friend!Sirius

Chapter Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader(No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, Harry growing up in a loving home, death, mentions of sad Snape, Voldemort, death eaters, profanity, sad reader, mentions of reader not taking care of herself, mentions of not eating, smoking cigarettes, Sev is a bad listener

Series Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader (No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, OOC Snape, Harry grows up in a loving environment, mentions of death and murder, poorly written angst, Remus is a shitty friend, poorly written pining,

Please let me know how I can improve my writing and being more inclusive to POC as I am whiter than white. Please also let me know if I have to add more to the warnings! My messages are open as well as my asks!

I am starting a taglist so leave either a comment or something in my asks if you would like to be tagged in any of my works or just this series!

Author's Note: I am going through a bit of a writers block at the moment so please bare with me. If anyone has any ideas they can give me I will gladly take some to see if I can get over this writers block.

Please let me know how I can improve or if you find any errors! Correct me, don't be afraid to! I want to improve my writing and become a better writer so any feedback or advise is welcomed!

Word Count: 2052

My asks are open for questions, suggestions and feedback!

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

not my gif

not my gif

The Potters and Severus left the house the next day, all going to 12 Grimmauld Place, the two professors attending the Order meeting and Harry getting to see his friends. Once they had arrived, Molly was the first one to greet the three of them at the door. She ushered Harry up the stairs and the professors into the dining room where the meeting was being held. This was the first meeting that Y/N was able to attend since the Order had restarted. Most of the meeting was about keeping Harry safe and protected. 

“How is he doing, dove?” Remus had asked her.

“He could be better, he’s been having nightmares every night. Harry is struggling to simplify it, he watched someone die right in front of him and then had to fight Voldemort all by himself, it's a lot for a young boy,” She explained.

“What have you been doing to get him to sleep? Do sleeping draughts work?” Sirius chimed in.

“We’ve tried sleeping draughts but it makes the nightmares harder for him to come out of. He’s been sleeping in my bed since the beginning of the summer. Even then he has nightmares but at least I’m right there to help him.” With the end of the conversation, the meeting had ended, the members who weren’t staying had left and the rest had stayed. The kids were all upstairs waiting for dinner, Y/N eventually calling Harry down early so he could catch up with Remus and Sirius. She hadn’t seen the boy that happy all summer which made her heart ache. She excused herself from the room to go sit outside for some fresh air.

Severus was about to follow her but Remus wordlessly told him to stay, following her out. She was sitting on the top step with a cigarette lit in her hand. “I thought you quit when you left school?” Remus questioned as he sat beside her on the step.

“I did but after last year with the triwizard tournament and Harry’s nightmares, I started again. It’s the only way I’ve been able to stay sane. I haven’t been able to sleep, I can barely eat, it’s like I haven’t been able to turn off, you know?” She vented to her friend as she took a puff from the tobacco in her hand.

“Dove, I thought Severus talked to you about taking care of yourself. Give me that.” He took the cigarette from her hand, inhaling some smoke before putting it out and throwing it onto the pavement. 

“He did but with all of the stress in my life, I haven’t been able to even think about taking care of myself. My nephew has been attacked every year he’s been at Hogwarts and it’s only getting worse. Voldemort is back, the death eaters have started their meetings, I’ve barely seen Severus, I’ve barely left the house, I’ve barely slept, I’ve barely eaten, most of my plants are dying. My life has been a mess since James died, I’ve had no order in my life since that night.” 

It took everything in Remus to not scold her. He knew that a lecture was the last thing she needed, that she wouldn’t benefit from one at the moment. “Let’s go in to eat something, and then after you eat, you are going to bed, you need to rest. You can’t take care of Harry if you haven’t taken care of yourself. You want a piece of chocolate?” He held out a chocolate bar he’d been breaking pieces off of during the meeting. She broke off a piece and ate it, leaning into Remus’ side as she chewed. 

“I miss them,” Y/N whispered, Remus knew she was talking about James and Lily, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and resting his head on top of hers.

“Me too, dove, me too,” He sighed. The door had opened and closed, neither of the bothering to turn around to see who it was.

“Dovey time without me? Moony, how dare you?” Sirius joked as he sat beside Remus. Y/N reached over for Sirius who gave her his hand and squeezed it. Sirius leaned his head onto Remus’ shoulder as well as the three sat in silence. They sat out there until Molly had peeked her head out to tell the trio it was time to eat. It took a few minutes for the three of them to get up and make their way into the house. She took her place next to Severus, expecting Harry to sit beside her but the boy sat beside his godfather instead.

“You okay, darling?” Severus asked her softly, watching as she pushed food around her plate instead of eating.

“I’m fine, honey. Just not hungry,” She replied, giving him a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. It was time for his heart to ache, not even a year before, she was bubbly and happy and now she was dull and in a constant state of sorrow and worry. Her hair that was once put together and taken care of, now a constant frizzy or oily mess. Her skin was even duller, once shining bright and full, her cheeks now sunken in and dark rings appearing under her eyes. She had lost a substantial amount of weight during the summer, everyone taking note of it and trying to get her to eat to no avail. She was never hungry anymore, instead she was always tired and worried, hoping that her nephew would be okay and safe even though she knew that those chances were slim to none with the return of Voldemort.

“Dovey, it’s your favorite, why aren’t you eating?” Sirius asked her from across the table, all eyes turning to her in an instant.

“Just not hungry, I think I’m gonna go to bed actually,” She dismissed herself from the table, handing her plate to Kreacher, thanking the house elf, before making her way up the stairs to the room she was staying in. She pulled another cigarette from the pack and sat by the window as she lit it. As she smoked the cigarette, downstairs in the dining room, the table had fallen silent.

Severus let out a heavy sigh as he sat back in his chair, everyone's eyes now turning to him. “What are you all looking at me for?” He questioned them all.

“What’s going on with her? She’s not herself Severus and you know it. She looks like she hasn’t slept in weeks, she’s lost a lot of weight, it’s not healthy,” Molly questioned him.

“She hasn’t been sleeping well, which I just found out myself. She’s stressed out of her mind, she needs a break from everything but she doesn’t allow herself to have that break. I’ve barely had time to see her since the Order started back up, she’s by herself taking care of a boy who is wanted by every dark wizard you can name,” Severus was upset with himself because the Order had taken up so much of his time, he left Y/N all by herself to care for the boy who lived.

It had taken everything in Severus to not scream at everyone, he felt like they were blaming Y/N’s state on him when there wasn’t anything he could do, he tried his damndest to make her feel better but it hadn’t worked. Nothing that anyone did helped her in any way, her only concern was Harry, he is her boy, he is her sole responsibility, he is hers to keep safe and care for and that is what she felt like she did best. But once he began to get targeted, she realized that trying her best wasn’t good enough, she spent hours every night putting protection charms on their home, keeping dangerous plants around for defense if needed and staying up all night just in case something were to happen. The night before was the first time she had actually slept for more than an hour at a time, she slept for maybe 3 hours total before she eventually woke up and put the protection on the house. 

Severus had excused himself from the table before making his way upstairs to where he knew Y/N was. She was still sitting by the window, looking out at the muggles as they walked by. She still had a lit cigarette in her hand, taking a puff when Severus had walked in. “I didn’t know you smoked,” He said, startling her slightly.

“Thought I kicked the habit but apparently not,” She replied, her eyes still watching out the window. He made his way to the window and sat beside her.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me,” He said sternly.

“I’m not lying Sev, I’m fine,” She replied in the same tone.

“Y/N Potter, I don’t appreciate being lied to and you know that. Talk to me! I’m right here! You aren’t fine!” He was yelling at this point, he just wanted answers from her. He wanted the truth from her, he wanted to know how he could help.

“Don’t yell at me, Severus Snape! I told you that I am fine! Just leave it at that!”

“No, because you are going to end up killing yourself if you keep it up and I can’t lose you! Harry can’t lose you! Lupin can’t and Black and the Weasley’s! We can’t lose you so tell me what's wrong!” She finally turned to him and got up, him following suit. Her eyes were watery but she was biting back the tears.

“Everything! Everything is wrong! My brother died and my life went to shit! My brother died and part of me died with him! My nephew is being targeted by every dark wizard out there and there’s nothing I can do! My nephew is having nightmares every single night and there is nothing I can do! My nephew is happier here than he has been with me all summer! I can’t handle it all at once! It’s too much, I can't do it anymore! The only thing in my life that has gone right is you! So please just leave me alone before I fuck it up and cause myself more misery!” She screamed at him, a few tears falling from her eyes.

“I’m not leaving you,” Severus stated bluntly, his volume lowering substantially.

“Get out, please. Just get out,” She begged, “I need to be alone, please just leave me alone.”

Before Severus could open his mouth again, Remus had come in to diffuse the situation. “Lupin, your great savior is here to save the day as always. I am not leaving you alone,” Severus was getting frustrated. He just wanted to help but she wasn’t letting him.

“Severus, please just go, she’s asked you to leave more than once, just go,” Remus spoke up, defending his best friend. 

“What? So you can have her all to yourself? No, I am not leaving her. She is the love of my life and I am not going anywhere until I know how to help her,” Severus fought back.

Severus and Remus continued to argue, Y/N sitting back down, her knees pulled to her chest, her forehead resting on her knees and her hands covering her ears. “Everyone needs to get out! Everyone needs to leave me alone! I want to be alone! Get out! GET OUT!” She finally snapped after listening to the bickering for way too long. Both men looked at her, then at each other before leaving the room, finally listening to her. 

As soon as they had left, she put herself in bed, covering herself with the blanket and blankly staring at the window. She felt the need to cry but she couldn’t, it was almost as if her body wasn’t allowing her to cry. Forcing her to ‘stay strong’ for Harry even though he had the Weasley’s, Hermione, Severus, Sirius and Remus. There were plenty of people that could care for him but she felt like she had to, even if she couldn’t care for herself she could still try her hardest to take care of her boy. She had promised her brother and she wouldn’t break that promise, not now, not ever.

taglist (if your user is crossed out it means I can't tag you)

@acupnoodle @chxelsxaa @fluffyrat365 @fanficwriter5 @atanukileaf @v3lv3tvampir3 @jspidey5 @mija-novella @leo4242564 @crazyunsexycool @livillain00

[callsign-joyride]

John Wayne | Chapter 3 | Rhett Abbott

Despite the mood board suggesting otherwise, my fics are size and POC inclusive.

Series masterlist | Previous part | Next part

Summary: Rhett ends up in the city for a friend's wedding. You're going through a rough breakup. A meet-cute in a cafe changes both of your lives.

Every John is just the same I'm sick of their city games I crave a real wild man I'm strung out on John Wayne

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x f!reader

Content warnings: This is a fast burn fic now, fluff

You and Rhett had been texting almost nonstop. It wasn’t like you couldn’t live without talking to each other, but it was that you didn’t want to. Of course, your coworkers were pretty relentless with the teasing. No one really believed you when you said that you were dating an actual cowboy, not even with the pictures to prove it. You promised to call him when you were done with work, which seemed to work perfectly. You got done with everything at around 7, and there was a two-hour difference between New York and Wyoming.

“Can we FaceTime? I’ve been dying to see your face,” Rhett said after you told him that you were back at the apartment.

“I don’t see why not. Just give me a minute to get my food.”

You ate together and had a light conversation until after both of you were done eating. That was when he started to ask some of the more “hard-hitting” questions.

“Okay, so, where do you see yourself in ten years?” He asked. You leaned back in your chair and took a minute to answer.

“Well, I hope I can have all of my student loans paid off by then. I love working for The Times so I’m hoping that maybe I’ll have a change in position or a raise. Maybe a house if I can afford it, one or two kids. What about you?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever leave Wabang. I didn’t go to college and I’m not good at a lot. I think I could see myself with kids. I love Amy, she’s my niece, so I feel like I’m good with kids. Definitely don’t quote me on that, though. I’ve got a foul mouth on me.”

The statement made you chuckle. He was definitely right about having a foul mouth. You completely lost track of time until Rebecca walked in.

“Hey, Rhett,” she said.

“Hey.”

It wasn’t long before you cleaned up the kitchen and went back to your room. You were still on the phone with Rhett, which was surprising. You didn’t normally do long phone calls, but he was special. It was getting late and you had to get ready for bed, but you made sure to text Rhett before you fell asleep.

“Who is that girl that he’s been on the phone with?” Cecelia asked Royal and Perry.

“He didn’t tell you? They met at a cafe in New York. We stopped there for coffee and they really hit it off,” Perry said.

“Huh, well are you sure that she’s even real? That boy has never had a girlfriend, let alone one that lives in the city,” Royal added.

“Oh, she’s real. Super pretty and nice, too.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

You were eating lunch with Danielle when your phone chimed. It was a text from Rhett. You read it as it flashed across the screen.

“Oh my God!” You exclaimed.

“What? What is it?” She asked.

You quickly unlocked your phone and slid it across the table. Rhett texted you to ask if you wanted to visit him and his family in Wyoming.

“You need to go. He’s a bull rider, right?”

You nodded your head and took a sip of your drink.

“Ask him when his next ride is and go then. You know he’ll win, anyways. And you have a lot of vacation time saved up.”

“Okay.”

His next competition wouldn’t be for another two weeks, so you had time to get things figured out. The rest of the day seemed to go by alarmingly fast, but it also wasn’t really a busy day at the office. You texted Rebecca to meet in your room once you got back to the apartment because you “had news”. You almost jumped out of your bed as she practically kicked the door to your room open to ask what the news was.

“Rhett asked me if I wanted to go to Wyoming and meet his family… And I said yes.”

“What?! You’re kidding, right? Because you’ve only known each other for like two weeks and maybe that wouldn’t be a super great idea.”

“No, I’m serious. Danielle said to wait until his next competition and go then, which won’t be for another two weeks. So there’s time to get my stuff packed and everything. I’m actually really excited because they sound like nice people and everything. So hopefully, I don’t end up getting murdered.”

“I’ll help you pack but I hate that you are the way you are… I never said that he was gonna murder you.”

“It was heavily implied.”

It took a lot of persuading but you eventually got Rebecca not to pack your bags for you then and there. You were willing to let her take you shopping, but that was it. You didn’t really feel like you needed new clothes for the trip, but you loved going shopping with Rebecca so it was a fine balance. The first week went by in a blur. 

Maybe it was the excitement and the nerves, but that second week was agonizing. You couldn’t wait to get out of New York, even if it was just for a short amount of time. You made sure to send Rhett a picture of your ticket so that he had everything he needed to pick you up from the airport. Shopping with Rebecca quickly derailed as she dragged you into a Victoria’s Secret and picked up a black lingerie set.

“Okay, Wyoming is hot but it’s not that hot,” you said. She glared at you and sighed.

“Wear it under your clothes, dumbass. Or you could just wear it in general. No one cares. Well, no one cares that much. It’s a small town.”

“Yeah, and that’s part of the problem. Everyone knows everyone. It would be embarrassing.”

“Whatever. You’re hot. You know you’re hot, he knows you’re hot. I don’t really see the problem.”

“I guess I’ll buy it but I’m not listening to your advice. I’ve almost been arrested multiple times by taking your advice.”

It was hard not to laugh. Both of you knew that you were right, but it was quiet in the store and you didn’t want to look crazy. You got everything that you needed and (almost) everything that Rebecca thought you needed before walking around the mall some more. The candle store was irresistible even though you had at least one candle in almost every room of the apartment. You only had a gneral idea of what you were going to bring with you to Wyoming, so it took you a while to get your bags packed and put by your bedroom door.

“Okay, I love you, don’t get murdered, and take pictures of all of the cows,” Rebecca said as she pulled up to your gate at the airport. It was barely six in the morning, but you figured that an early flight would be best. You chuckled before making sure that you had everything that you needed in your bag.

“I can do the first two. Not too sure about the cows, though. That’s kind of a weird request.”

Taglist:

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[hjellacott]

"Inclusivity" is not what people claim it is (for their own personal gain)

Lately I'm hearing a lot about inclusivity because people claim that is a good reason for the term "women" or "woman" to disappear from medical pages about female-only health things (while ironically the same thing does NOT happen to men stuff) in favour of being more "inclusive" and "including" trans people. I'm also hearing this a lot in classrooms (I was a teacher and many of my friends still are) when it comes to the inclusivity of people with learning difficulties in normal schools that aren't adapted for learning difficulties. So I thought I'd get some heads out of arses by reminding everyone that is NOT inclusivity.

Let's start by analysing this definition carefully, coming from Cambridge:

Inclusivity is the fact (as in, a thing that is done) of including (grouping together) all types of people (regardless of colour, sex, nationality, sexual orientation, age and so on), things or ideas and treating them all fairly (with fairness) and equally (in the same manner).

Obviously, in real life it gets applied a bit differently, and with limits. We include both girls and boys in a party, but perhaps we set an age limit, we include people with learning difficulties in a classroom where other kids don't have learning difficulties, but we limit the seriousness of those difficulties, and so on. Still, as a general idea, in our society:

Inclusivity is putting both boys and girls in the same classroom, with the same teacher, learning the same things at the same time and treating them equally.

Inclusivity is including (hence the word) LGB under the umbrella of same-sex attraction, as opposed to just saying "gay" and forgetting the rest.

Inclusivity is using the term POC as opposed to simply "black" to include all kinds of people of colour, regardless of whether their actual tone of skin is pitch dark, or whether they're of African descent or another.

Inclusivity is including disabled people into your place of work and helping them to be able to do the same work as their peers.

Let's now pause to think about the part of "treating them all fairly and equally". Notice that "fairly" is put first and given precedence. This is to stress the fact that fairness goes first, and equally refers more to the fact that the fair treatment should put everyone in an equal level of advantage or disadvantage, without giving anyone extra privileges.

Example 1: You've got several children of different heights trying to see over a tall fence. Treating them just equally would mean giving them all the same stool to climb on to look over the fence, even if some kids are already tall enough to see without help, and others might need an extra tall stool. It'd be equal but it wouldn't be fair. But treating them fairly first and equally second means analysing their individual difficulties and giving them each a taller or shorter stool so that in the end their heads are all at equal height over the fence. That way the children end up being treated fairly and being in equal conditions.

Example 2: You bring children with learning difficulties into a school that is not equipped to deal properly with learning difficulties, and where all of the classmates don't have learning difficulties and the teachers aren't trained for them. Sure, it might seem there's inclusivity, because all of the kids are going to the same school regardless of sex, problems, conditions, age, and so on, right? But it isn't, because it isn't fair to the kids with learning difficulties, who will have to reach the same level as their peers without the extra help they need. In this case, they'll also be treated equally, but once again, not fairly. For inclusivity to be done right, you can't forget the fairness, therefore the kids with learning difficulties should be having some accommodations made for them, so that they can be at equal level with their peers, in a fair situation.

Inclusivity is frequently done wrong in schools, hospitals, prisons and all over the world because the principle of fairness gets constantly forgotten, so that we give stools to people who don't need them just because everyone must have one, if you see my point.

Now, ideologies aside, you can't claim inclusivity to remove women's only spaces. A previously "women's only" prison, locker room, bathroom, etc., gets turned into an "everybody" place just for the comfort of trans people, and there is no inclusivity there because it's not fair to anyone and it's not equal to anyone. Think about it. Before each got to have a place of their own, now nobody does, and the reason why there was a division for sex in the first place, which was safety, gets forgotten. Therefore not only there is no fairness and equality and everyone loses a privilege and is forced to be crammed together, but also, it's a total disrespect and slap on the face to for instance victims of sexual assault, whose valid concerns are being disrespected and ignored, and who are being forced to share intimate spaces with people that look like their aggressors, putting them in situations that can be heavily triggering and harmful for their mental health, unfairly.

Why should some people's feelings of safety, fear, concerns, be more valid than others? That's not fair. You want inclusivity? Give them all a private space they don't have to share, where they can all feel safe.

Similarly, there is no inclusivity in removing the term women so that trans women feel better, specially not in medical websites where the term "women" (or its singular, woman) is absolutely essential because all kinds of medical issues, from cancer to heart attacks, can look extremely differently depending solely on biological sex. Because guess what? your health and your body don't give two shits about your gender identity. Neither do medical issues. You can tell yourself you're a woman all you want, but if you were born a boy you won't ever fear cervical cancer, you'll fear prostate cancer, and a heart attack will look different in you than in biological women. And biology cannot be changed no matter how many surgeries you undergo and how many medicines you take. Keeping the terms women and men in medicine and other scientific contexts, to put this example, is for everyone's safety, including yours. And it's inclusive to keep it and exclusive to remove it. Yes, you hear it right, what you've called inclusivity, is actually exclusing half the world's population (women).

And when you hesitate, think about LGBTQ+. Why do we have so many letters? Because inclusivity. The same way you wouldn't want your repressentative letter to disappear from that, because it'd make you invisible, women don't want their noun to disappear from places, because it makes us invisible. And women have historically been invisible long enough.