#don't starve magazine

[xofemeraldstars]

LOU FERRIGNO JR — felix magazine bts

[mierulii]

Kindaa late but (belated) happy happy birthday to everyone's favorite gentleman scientist! <3

I also couldn't get him a cake so I made bacon and egg insteadd

[britneyshakespeare]

you know. back when i reviewed poetry submissions for [insert unnamed literary magazine here], i once got a submission containing only two poems (you could submit up to five) both of which were about the author's older brothers, whose names are dan and john (my older brothers' names are dan and jon...athan) and her relationship w them and descriptions of them were not all that unlike my own brothers. still one of the weirdest things that has ever happened to me

[inkskinned]

you have seen, many times, the phrase love your body! and every time, like rainwater, it glides off you. not because you cannot love it - you mostly, like, tolerate it - but because of the word "your".

is this your body? when you were 11 you had to start shaving your legs because other girls found it gross you were hairy. when you were 12, you had to stop wearing v-necks because of your chest - people were staring. your mother didn't let you dye your hair. your first boyfriend makes you dress up in skimpy clothes for him, then hated when other people coveted you. what you wear and how you present determine whether or not people find you funny or annoying or arrogant. other people get to determine if you are pretty, a court of opinion so loud it blots any good intent.

when is the body yours? magazines and instagram and tiktok endlessly advising you to "take care of" (starve) your body as if it is a weed. you must hack and slash at it, defend yourself from its wanton desires. it is a shameful, greedy thing. it is more like an art piece. you are keeping it or being kept-in-it.

you try to language it to your therapist - it's not that you don't recognize yourself in the mirror, it's more just that the thing that is in the mirror - it isn't you. that's why it's so easy to take apart: you're vaguely aware of the shape, but it feels like you are an animal hiding in the back of this cavern, snarling.

obviously you're like stuck in it. it often hurts a lot, buzzes with pain and a strange numbness. so it is your body when it's painful. that makes sense. otherwise - how many times have you been told to save yourself (your body) for marriage. for someone else. you are just borrowing it.

love your body! is so funny. somehow, without meaning to, the phrase reminds you - it isn't you. you're just inside it.

[mariclerc]

Little miracle ♡ | cl16

Summary: You and Charles have been together for years and have always talked about starting a family.

Warning: none, just fluff.

a/n: It's a little long, but I hope you like it as much as I did !!

The afternoon sun streams through the living room window, casting warm light across the plush couch where you lie curled up. A magazine lays forgotten on your chest, your brow furrowed in concentration. You take a deep breath, wincing slightly. The dull ache in your lower abdomen has been there for a few days now, and you can't help but wonder...

With a sigh, you push yourself up and head to the bathroom. You open the cabinet and reach for the lone pregnancy test tucked discreetly in the back corner. It's been there for months but only in case of emergencies, a silent reminder of what could be, a possibility you both discussed but never truly dared to hope for.

Your hands tremble slightly as you follow the instructions, the silence of the apartment amplifying your racing thoughts. What if it's positive? How will Charles react? Excitement? Fear? Uncertainty? The image of his bright smile flashes in your mind, but it's quickly overshadowed by a wave of apprehension. After a couple of minutes the alarm sounds and with great care and trembling hands, you review the test...

Two pink lines: positive. A wave of different emotions takes over you, you are very afraid and at the same time hope that perhaps this has not gone as planned, but it's something incredible, a small miracle growing inside you.

After a couple of hours, the scent of Charles' cologne fills the air as he bursts through the door, his usual infectious energy bouncing off the walls. He throws his bag on a hanger, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you.

“Hey bellissima! How was your day?” He says while having a grin on his face.

You manage a small smile, forcing yourself to appear relaxed. “Good, just relaxing. You seem in a good mood today!”

“Just had a great afternoon with the team, preparing some things in the simulator... So, what's for dinner? You know I'm starving!” He said while chuckling.

You lead him to the kitchen, the aroma of your carefully prepared pasta filling the air. As you set the table, you steal glances at him, his animated chatter a stark contrast to your swirling emotions.

“Hey, is everything okay baby? You seem a bit...different.” He asks as he notices your quietness.

You hesitate, then decide to plant the first seed.

“Actually, there is something I need to tell you. But I think it's better if we wait until after dinner.”

His smile falters slightly, replaced by a furrowed brow.

“Is everything alright? Is it something serious?”

“Don't worry, it's nothing bad. Just...something we need to talk about.” You said while taking his hand.

He squeezes your hand reassuringly, the worry lingering in his eyes. Dinner passes in a blur of polite conversation and stolen glances. With dessert cleared away, you both settle onto the couch, the weight of your unspoken secret hanging heavy in the air.

”Charles, remember that talk we had a few months ago? About...you know...” You take a deep breath.

He nods slowly, his gaze intense and understanding. “Of course darling.”

“Well, there's a chance...a big possibility...that things might have changed.”

His eyes widen, a flicker of hope battling with trepidation.

“You mean...?”

“I took a test. And...it's positive.” You whisper while you show the test to him.

The silence that follows is deafening. You watch Charles' face, searching for any hint of his reaction. His initial surprise gives way to a slow smile, spreading across his features like sunrise.

“Oh my god, baby! Oh my baby...” He said with his voice thick with emotion.

He pulls you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. You can feel his body trembling, his laughter mixed with choked sobs.

“This is incredible! We're going to have a baby!”

Relief washes over you, warm and sweet. The fear that had been gnawing at you melts away, replaced by a surge of joy and anticipation. You cling to him, both of you lost in the wonder of this new chapter.

As you pull back, Charles cups your face, his eyes shining with love and excitement.

“This is the best news ever! I can't wait to be a dad! We're going to be amazing parents!”

You nod, a smile blooming on your face. The future, once uncertain, now stretches before you, filled with promise and the beautiful mess of creating a family together.

As you pull away from the embrace, the weight of reality settles in. While you're both ecstatic about the news, a wave of anxieties washes over you. You take a deep breath and voice your concerns.

“Charles, I'm happy, truly. But...there's a lot to think about. Parenthood is a big change, and I can't help but worry about how it will affect everything.” You say a little shy.

He takes your hand, his gaze warm and understanding. “I know, amore. It's natural to feel nervous. But tell me, what's on your mind?”

“Well, there's my career. Taking time off for the baby, especially with your career in the spotlight, feels daunting.”

“We'll figure it out together, like we always do. You're incredibly talented, and I know you'll find a way to balance motherhood with your dreams.” He squeezes your hand.

He pulls you closer, resting his forehead against yours.

“It's not just that, you know? It's the fear of the unknown. Being a parent is a huge responsibility, and I'm scared I won't be good enough.” You sigh.

He leans back, holding you at arm's length, his eyes searching yours.

“Hey, you'll be the most amazing mother. You're kind, compassionate, and have so much love to give. You'll be incredible, just like you are with everything else you do.”

A tear escapes your eye, and he brushes it away with a gentle thumb.

“We'll learn together, step by step. And we'll have each other, always. This is a journey we're going on together, as a team.”

His words soothe your anxieties, but a flicker of worry lingers.

“What about your racing? The media, the pressure, the fans...will this change things?”

He contemplates for a moment, then smiles reassuringly. “It will change things, of course, but not in a bad way. It'll give me something even more to fight for, even more to achieve. I'll be racing for our family, for our future together.”

His confidence reignites your own. You both share a laugh, the nervous tension easing.

“Now darling imagine our little Leclerc cheering me on from the stands!” He said with a smile on his face.

The image brings a joyful warmth to your chest. You lean in, sharing a kiss filled with hope and excitement for the unknown adventure ahead.

****

ynusername

liked by carmenmmundt, f1, kellypiquet and others.

ynusername something's in the way 🫣

tagged charles_leclerc

lilymhe omg!!! Congrats babes 🥹🥹

ynusername 🥹🥹🥹🩷 thank u sm bby

user1 mY PARENTS ARE GOING TO BE PARENTS?!?!#?! OH GOD 🥺😭😭

landonorris so... That explains why you threw up the cookies I sent to you both last week...

ynusername can you get over the cookies did I threw up last week? Thanks ☺️

charles_leclerc lando those cookies were horrible, I even threw up them too. 🤷🏻‍♂️🤷🏻‍♂️

landonorris I didn't need to know that, but thanks for clarifying that my cooking skills suck.

charles_leclerc you are welcome bro 🫂

scuderiaferrari do we already have the future champion on the way? 👀❤️❤️

ynusername yup team!!

user2 oh my goodness, congrats to the best paddock couple 🤍🤍

charles_leclerc I love you my future baby mama 💗

ynusername I love you too papa to be!! 🥺🩷

user3 okay but they are using pink emojis, they defo know something WE DON'T OH GOD

Days turn into weeks, and your apartment becomes a haven of anticipation. You pick out tiny baby clothes, decorate the nursery with love, and lose yourselves in the joy of choosing names. Charles, usually focused on his racing career, surprises you with his attentiveness, researching baby gear, learning about childbirth, and excitedly planning for paternity leave.

For your part, breaking the news to your parents was not exactly what you expected or had in mind. They took the news in a very bad and ugly way, which made you feel hurt, since you thought they weren't going to take it that way. The disapproval still lingers, but it no longer holds power over you. You share your happiness with friends and Charles' family who offer genuine support and celebrate with you.

You and Charles create a photo album documenting your pregnancy journey, filled with silly selfies, ultrasound pictures, and heartfelt notes to your future child.

One evening, as you relax on the couch, Charles pulls out the photo album.

“Look at how far we've come amour!” He says, his voice filled with pride. “We may not have everyone's blessing, but we have each other, and that's all that matters.”

You nod, tears welling up in your eyes. You turn to him, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

“We do, amore. And we'll be amazing parents, together!”

He kisses you softly, the promise of a future filled with love and laughter hanging in the air. The disapproval from your parents may remain, but it fades into insignificance compared to the radiant joy you and Charles share.

****

charles_leclerc

liked by domi.nahmias, ynbff, georgerussell63 and others.

charles_leclerc baby mama is looking fine as always 😍😍 I love you so so much and our little one 💗💗

tagged ynusername

ynusername oh my babyyyyyy 🥺😭😭 I told you I looked so awful in that pic :(

charles_leclerc nonsense! You're looking gorgeous each day chérie ;)

ynusername okay!!! If u say so 🥹🥹

landonorris you're simping over a baby? Iugh 🤢

pierregasly lando stfu please 🙄🙄

ynusername thank you uncle Pierre 🙏🏻

arthur_leclerc UNCLE PIERRE? WTF ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT‼️‼️‼️

lorenzotl I hope this is a joke

charles_leclerc oh god, guys get out of my comment section please

leclerc_pascale Je vous aime tellement, je suis si heureuse pour vous mes enfants 💗💗 (I love you so much, I am so happy for you my children)

ynusername Aww, merci maman 😭🥹🩷🩷 (aww, thank you mom)

charles_leclerc Merci maman!! nous t'aimons aussi 🩷🩷 (thank you mom!! we love you too)

user4 NOT THE PINK HEARTS AGAIN, THEY KNOW SOMETHING‼️‼️‼️‼️

ynbff I want to be the cool aunt okay sir?! 🫵🏻🫵🏻

charles_leclerc noted 📝

ynusername

liked by lilymhe, ruthbuscombe, lewishamilton and others.

ynusername we can't wait to meet you little Mills 💗💗💗 your papa and I are so excited to hold in our arms and love you unconditionally 🥹🥹 📸 by the one and only charles_leclerc

tagged charles_leclerc

kellypiquet oh my god 🥺🥺🥺

georgerussell63 now we know who to spoil in the paddock

logansargeant the official F1 baby

danielricciardo the official F1 mascot

charles_leclerc I don't want my baby to wear merch from all the teams above and below.

ynusername you know that she would be sticking to Ferrari, right guys??? 👀👀

charles_leclerc our little miracle is so loved 🩷🩷🥹 I love you so much chérie, thank you for giving me the best gift of all 🩷🩷🩷

ynusername ohhh baby, you're making me cry 😭😭, I love too babe!! I promise to be the best mama and girlfriend I can be🥹 I promise!!

charles_leclerc babe, you already are the best mama and wife our little girl and I could ask for!!🩷🩷

user5 excuse me??? WIFE???!? SIR COULD YOU EXPLAIN????

user4 omg a little girlyclerc, congrats!!! 🥺🥺💗

lewishamilton congrats lovebirds!!!

ynusername thank u lew <3

charles_leclerc thank you mate ❤️

scuderiaferrari we can't wait to see her in a race car. congratulations guys ❤️❤️

oscarpiastri a new little one to spoil with papaya merch

charles_leclerc ABSOLUTELY NOT

Weeks melt into months, your belly growing bigger with each passing day. You and Charles revel in the little miracles of pregnancy: the first flutter of movement, the tiny heartbeat on the ultrasound, the shared excitement of picking out names. Your apartment transforms, adorned with tiny clothes, a miniature crib, and countless teddy bears.

One sunny afternoon, you and Charles are sprawled on the couch, giggling over a particularly stubborn hiccup emanating from your belly.

“Do you think she'll be a fast car fan?” Charles asks, tracing your swollen belly with a finger.

You laugh, “Only if she inherits your love for race cars, but if she wants to be a driver like her papa, we will always support her!”

He smiles innocently, a playful glint in his eyes. “But of course love! We will be her number one fans, her big fans.”

Suddenly, a sharp pain jolts you upright. You gasp, eyes widening. Charles is by your side instantly, his face etched with concern.

”What is it, babe? Are you okay?”

“I think... I think it's time Charles.” You manage, voice shaky with a mix of fear and excitement.

Charles throws on his coat, his movements efficient yet tinged with nervous energy, He quickly looked for a briefcase that they had prepared in recent weeks in case this moment came, which was near the door. “Let's go, amore! It's time to meet our little miracle.”

The hospital is a whirlwind of activity. Nurses bustle around you, checking vitals and offering reassurances. Charles holds your hand, his grip tight yet comforting. He whispers jokes, sings silly songs, and recounts stories about his childhood, distracting you from the growing intensity of the contractions.

Hours later, after pushing with every ounce of your strength, a tiny cry fills the room. A wave of relief washes over you, followed by an overwhelming surge of love. Charles beams, tears glistening in his eyes as he cuts the umbilical cord, welcoming their daughter into the world.

Holding your newborn child in your arms, the world melts away. You and Charles, a team united by love and parenthood, gaze in awe at the perfect little face nestled against your chest. The initial disapproval from your parents feels miles away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of joy and accomplishment.

The nurse bustles around, cleaning your newborn daughter and wrapping her in a warm blanket. You watch, exhausted yet exhilarated, as the tiny form stirs and lets out a sleepy gurgle. Your gaze flickers to Charles, his face alight with a mixture of awe and nervousness.

“Mr. Leclerc.” the nurse says, her voice gentle. “Would you like to hold your daughter first, skin-to-skin?”

Charles' eyes widen. “Me?”

“Absolutely!” the nurse smiles. “It's called kangaroo care. It helps regulate her temperature, breathing, and heart rate, and it promotes bonding between you and her.”

He hesitates briefly, then nods eagerly. ”Of course!”

The nurse carefully places your daughter on his bare chest, her tiny body nestled against his warmth. Charles' eyes well up as he looks down at her, his fingers gently brushing her soft cheek. You watch their silent communion, a wave of love and tenderness washing over you.

“There you go, little one.” Charles whispers, his voice husky with emotion. “Meet your daddy.”

Your daughter seems to respond. She quiets, her eyes fluttering open and meeting his with a gaze that seems impossibly ancient and wise. A faint coo escapes her.

Charles laughs, a joyous sound that fills the room. “You see chérie? Millie loves me already!”

You chuckle, your heart brimming with joy. The initial fear and doubt Charles harbored about fatherhood seem to melt away, replaced by a raw, instinctive protectiveness. He holds his daughter close, rocking her gently, his eyes filled with an unspoken promise to love and cherish her always.

Millie, still slightly pink and whimpering, nuzzles closer to the warmth of his skin. He cradles her awkwardly at first, then instinct seems to take over. He holds her with a tenderness that belies his usual energetic persona, stroking her tiny hand with his thumb, whispering soft reassurances in Italian.

You watch the scene unfold, your heart swelling with pride and love. This man, your partner, the one who speeds around racetracks with fearless abandon, now holds your daughter with such delicate care, such profound reverence. It's a side of him you haven't witnessed before, and it's breathtaking.

He looks up at you, his eyes shining with emotion. “Oh my, she's perfect.” he murmurs, his voice thick. “Just like her mama.”

A laugh escapes you, shaky but genuine. Tears well up again, this time tears of pure joy. You reach out, and he carefully transfers your daughter to you, placing her skin-to-skin on your chest. The warmth of her tiny body against yours is instant comfort, a connection unlike any other.

In that moment, everything else fades away. The pain, the exhaustion, the initial anxiety about how Charles would react – all vanish. All that remains is the three of you, an incredible bond forming in the quiet hospital room. This is the start of your journey, a journey filled with challenges and triumphs, but you face it together, a family united by love.

****

The weeks that follow are a whirlwind of sleepless nights, endless diaper changes, and the constant wonder of watching Millie grow and change with each passing day. Charles, true to his word, throws himself into fatherhood with the same passion he brings to racing. He learns to swaddle like a pro, sings lullabies in his surprisingly off-key voice, and develops a sixth sense for anticipating her needs.

The initial challenges you anticipated regarding his racing career never materialize. In fact, having his daughter seems to fuel him further. He dedicates his wins to her, to both of you actually, her tiny name adorning his helmet, and the fans seem to love the image of the champion racer who's also a devoted dad.

Of course, there are bumps along the road. Juggling parenthood with demanding careers takes its toll. Sleep deprivation becomes a constant companion, and arguments erupt over who gets to hold the baby during the rare moments of peace. Yet, through it all, your love for each other and Millie remains the anchor. You learn to compromise, to communicate openly, and to find humor even in the midst of exhaustion.

One evening, as you sit huddled on the couch, nursing Millie to sleep, Charles turns to you, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lamp.

“Remember when we were worried about how things would change?” he asks, a chuckle in his voice.

You smile, memories of those early anxieties flooding back. “Yeah, we were pretty naive, weren't we?”

He nods, pulling you closer. “Absolutely babe, but now looking at her, I wouldn't trade this chaos for anything in the world.”

You gaze at your daughter, her peaceful breaths filling the silence. “Me neither.” you whisper, leaning your head against his shoulder. “She's our little miracle, our perfect storm.”

He kisses your forehead, his lips warm and tender. “And we're her team, amore. We'll face whatever comes our way, together.”

The weight of his words rests upon you as you watch Millie sleep. A comfortable silence descends, punctuated only by her rhythmic breaths and the soft hum of the nightlight. You feel a surge of pride, not just in Millie, but in the family you've built together.

“Remember when her first smile was just a tiny twitch of her lip?” Charles asks, his voice hushed and reminiscent.

You laugh softly, recalling the hours spent trying to elicit a response, the sheer joy when that tiny smile finally appeared. “And how she cried for an hour straight when we tried to give her a bath for the first time?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Chaos incarnate, love.” he says, his eyes twinkling with affection. "But wouldn't have it any other way.”

You nod, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Me neither. These sleepless nights, the endless diaper changes, it all feels so insignificant when she looks at us with those big, curious eyes.”

Suddenly, Millie lets out a soft coo, her eyes fluttering open. She fixes them on you, a gummy smile spreading across her face.

“See?” Charles whispers, reaching out to touch her cheek. “Millie knows how much we love her.”

He lifts her gently, cradling her close, and you watch as their daughter nuzzles into his chest. A lump forms in your throat, a mixture of love and gratitude washing over you. You've faced challenges, navigated uncertainties, but the core of your bond has remained strong.

“We're doing alright, aren't we?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

He looks at you, his gaze tender. “More than alright, amore. We're building a life, a family. And it's beautiful.”

He leans in, his lips brushing yours in a gentle kiss. In that quiet moment, surrounded by the warmth of your love and the soft breaths of baby Millie sleeping, you know that the journey ahead, though filled with its own challenges, will be an adventure worth taking, hand in hand.

charles_leclerc

liked by ferraristyle, maxverstappen1, sebastianvettel and others.

charles_leclerc mama and little millie 🩷🩷🩷 oh ma petite fleur, you don't know how happy you have made us with your arrival, you are the prettiest and smallest thing we have ever seen!! I promise to take care and protect you both, because you deserve it 💗💗 ynusername you have made me the happiest man in the world, thank you so much my baby love 💗💗

tagged ynusername

ynusername you will definitely make me cry 😭😭🥺 Oh love, it's nothing, she has a little piece of both and that makes her perfect 💗💗💗

charles_leclerc okay now I'm the one who's going to cry 😭😭 I just love you my sweet baby

scuderiaferrari welcome to the team Millie 🩷🩷🩷 we're going to spoil you a lot!!

landonorris so... They can spoil her and not the F1 grid?

ynusername yup, it's like this 🤷🏻‍♀️

user3 not her using Charles' quote, she knows

pierregasly aww, she's so pretty 🥺🥺 congrats bro 💗💗

leclerc_pascale aww, ma petite étoile 🩷🩷 (aww, my little star)

ynusername maman!! nous t'aimons tellement, Millie veut te rencontrer 🩷🩷 (mom!! we love you a lot, Millie wants to meet you)

leclerc_pascale Je parie que tu le fais, chérie 🩷🩷 (I bet she does, honey)

user5 oh god, all of them using pink hearts, they are so so cute 🥺🥺💗💗💗

[munsons-melody]

eddie’s girl

summary: you catch steve singing about you even though you’re dating eddie

pairing: boyfriend!eddie x female!henderson!reader, little bit steve x reader (?)

cw: implications of sex but that’s about it

recommended song: jessie’s girl by rick springfield

word count: 2.1k

a/n: been meaning to write this for a while and i finally got around to it :) not really proofread, and of course feedback is always welcome :)

masterlist

i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.

——

"tell me again why we need to drop by harrington's" eddie asked with a bit of annoyance

you chuckled at his attitude and continued to flip through the new magazine robin bought that you asked to borrow

"because i left my science textbook at school and was sick the day i needed to bring it home and steve has a copy i can borrow since we're in the same class" you explained nonchalantly

to be honest, you kinda liked the fact he was kinda jealous over you and steve's friendship, it meant he cared, not just about you but about your relationship

but you also knew that he was smart enough to know that you are his and no one else's

"can't you just miss one assignment? i'm sure miss whoever teacher is won't care" eddie said, crawling into your bed next to you and pulling you into his arms causing a giggle to emit from your lips and you held onto the magazine

"it's mr. peters, you know that, babe you had him last year" you squealed as you felt his hands move down your sides

"oh did i? i can't remember i was too busy watching your gym class outside" he said in a flirtatious tone, kissing your neck

"that sounds just a tad creepy" you told him and he laughed

"well i meant that it a bit distracting to pay attention to his boring lectures when you were outside on the track running in those shorts" he said again, and pressed a kiss to the side of your collarbone

"well i don't have the luxury of staring off while he's talking about gametes and zygotes" you laugh, pushing your self up and attempting to leave eddie's firm grasp

"oh honey you don't have to make up words to cover up the fact you're thinking about me in class" he said with a hint of surliness in his voice, propping himself up on one elbow as he watch you roll off the bed and start to slip on your pants

"eds cmon, seriously i need to get that textbook so i can pass this stupid assignment so i know the answers to the stupid quiz we have to take" you told him with a huff after you finished putting on your jeans and throwing your sweater over your t shirt

"okay babe, but we're stopping to get burgers on the way home since i'm starving" he said throwing his dio shirt over his very beautiful physique

"sounds like a perfect plan" you said with a smile as he walked over and kissed you before he grabbed his keys and started to walk to his shoes

"you know i had been craving a chocolate milkshake so i'm very excited" you told him as you put on your shoes

"wow it's like we've been together for almost a year and we know each other a little too well to the point where we can practically read each others minds" eddie said with a sarcastic smirk and you playfully rolled your eyes

"wow really i hadn't known" you replied back with a mocking tone

the two of you walked out to eddie's van parked in the drive way and got in, and he started the engine

the radio came on at full volume causing the two of you to jump as eddie quickly turned it down, forgetting that he left it on last night on his drive over to your house

"jesus sorry about that" eddie said with wide eyes as he started to drive

"it's okay" you giggled, your heart finally calming down

the two of you drove to steve's house which took at least a good 10 minutes

before you knew it, you were pulling into steve's driveway

the last time you and steve talked you told him you'd be over at 6 to get his spare copy of the textbook and you hoped he didn't forget, but seeing his car in the driveway put your worry at ease

eddie put the car in park and you looked at him with soft eyes, "thank you for driving" you said sweetly, as you put your hand on his cheek and it looked like he was going to melt under your touch

"always babe" he said with a soft smile back

he kissed you softly and slowly, leaving a permanent smile on your face as you exited his car and walked to steve's front door

you knocked a couple of times but had no answer, you looked back to see eddie fiddling with some magazine he had laying in the car and noticed steve's car was the only one in his driveway besides eddie's

you heard music coming from inside so you knew he was home and decided to head in, yelling a "hello!", hoping he would hear you over the music

you walked up the stairs and went down the hall to where steve's room was located

the familiar tune of 'jessie's girl' rang through his speakers and the shower running, with steve's voice coming through his bathroom door

you headed into his room, immediately seeing the book on his desk and you figured you'd leave him a quick note and take the book so you can get home and start studying as soon as possible

you started to turn down the speakers so you wouldn't go deaf when suddenly you heard steve belting out to the song but as you started to giggle you heard him change the original lyrics

"Cause she's watching him with those eyes

And she's loving him with that body, I just know it

And he's holding her in his arms late, late at night

You know, I wish that I had

Eddie's girl

I wish that I had Eddie's girl

Where can I find a woman like that?

Like Eddie's girl

I wish that I had Eddie's girl

Where can I find a woman-

Where can I find a woman like that?"

if it was any other song, hearing his voice crack while attempting to scream out the notes would've made you laugh and you definitely would've made fun of him with it but you stood there baffled

that was until the shower cut off and you heard movement on the other side of the door, and you quickly picked up one of his pens and started writing on a note pad

steve opened up the door to the bathroom and saw you standing at his desk, hunched over scribbling away

"oh shit hey" he said, padding over to his dresser to grab some clothes, his towel hanging low around his waist

you turned to steve, trying to keep your cool

"oh hey, sorry you didn't hear me knock so i let myself in and i was just going to leave you a note and take the book cause i really have to get to studying" you admitted, putting the pen down

he nodded and you picked up the book, folding yours arms around it and pressing it against your chest

"you know your speakers are very loud" you said in an effort to break the tension and steve chuckled

"yeah well i gotta hear it through the door" he smiled and you nodded

"well i better get going, eddie's waiting for me" you admitted and he nodded

"eddie's here?" he questioned

"yeah he drove me over, we're going to study tonight" you told him and you could see an expression in his eye shift, but you couldn't see to what

it was almost a mix of jealously and sadness but you didn't want to jump to conclusions

"oh well good luck with your studying, i don't want to keep you waiting too long" he said with a small smile and you nodded

"thank you again steve, you're the best" you told him with a small smile and headed out of his room, down the stairs and back to eddie's van

he noticed you walking and threw whatever magazine he had in his hand and tossed it behind him, starting the car back up as you hopped into the passenger seat

"got it?" he asked as he started to reverse

"yep!" you told him as you fixed your seatbelt

"good, now my smart babe can study to be even smarter" he said with a smile as he started back to your house

the drive was a little too quiet for eddie's liking but to be fair, you were thinking about steve and the fact he was singing about you?

you'd never thought of steve in that way and didn't know how to feel if it's true that he does like you

"everything okay pretty girl?" eddie asked, gently putting his hand on your thigh and you moved to look at him, nodding

"yeah just tired, maybe you and i can skip studying and just cuddle?" you asked and he smiled

"of course baby" he said, sliding his hand up your thigh a little higher

"your parents aren't home right?" he asked and you rolled your eyes, putting the pieces together

"eddie baby, does this have to do with the magazine you were looking at earlier?" you cocked an eyebrow

"uh no..." he trailed off as you leaned over the seat and picked up the magazine, looking at the cover

"really? a playboy?" you giggled and he sighed

"it was the only one within reach and you were up there for like ever and i was imagining you in the outfits they were wearing..." he said as his grip fasted around the wheel

"oh eddie! do you love me? do you need me? do you need to fuck me so badly" you moaned out, a giggle following as you were joking and eddie's eyes darkened

"really babe?" he said with a flat face, sending a quick glare to you as he pulled into your driveway

he turned off the ignition and noticed that your parents car was nowhere to be found, probably cause it was their designated date night leaving the house empty till midnight

"oh i'm sorry baby" you said, pulling him into a kiss which he delightfully responded to, kissing you back

he started kissing down your neck when you stopped him

"eds, let's go inside" you said with a small smile, tugging at his collar and he nodded

he grabbed this things and got out of the car, running quickly to your door and helping you out, shutting the door behind you

he laced your fingers with his, as you walked from the driveway up to your door where you quickly unlocked it and went inside

you shut the front door behind you and turned on some of the lights you had turned off on your way out and headed to your room

once in your room, you dumped your bag and the science book on the desk as you heard eddie yell a "i'm gonna use the bathroom" and you responded back a quick "okay”

you changed into your pajamas, just a shirt and some comfy pants and sat against your headboard on your bed

you allowed yourself to think about steve, what happened, and how it made sense in your brain- everything he did before you and eddie started dating

he was never your boyfriend but you did almost everything together, mostly thanks to dustin, but were you sending him mixed signals you didn't even know you were?

eddie arrived at your door a few minutes later, and shut it behind him

his shoes were off, along with his vest and leather jacket and he shimmed off his jeans and immediately jumped into bed with you, pulling you into his arms and snapping you out of your thoughts

"y/n are you okay? seriously you've been weirdly quiet ever since steve's house" he said and you laid on your side, looking at him as he laid an arm around your torso

you sighed, not wanting to start drama but knowing eddie should know about it

"okay, when i went up to steve's room i heard him singing in the shower and he changed the lyrics to jessie's girl to sing about 'eddie's girl' and he seemed upset you were waiting for me downstairs" you admitted, fiddling with the hem of his shirt

“oh” was all he said, causing your heart to sink

“ed’s i know that you know that im all yours, no matter what right? i don’t want this to be a problem” you said nervously

“i know babygirl, you’re all mine and i trust you” he said with a small smile, kissing you lightly

you felt at ease with eddie as you nuzzled your face into his chest but there was a little bit of steve still lingering on your mind

fin.

[bepp-ers]

sorry for vanishing on yall i went to take a nap (for like 9 months)

headcanons about the obey me! brothers and the devildom that no-one asked for, in no particular order. because why not :)

> asmodeus is kind of against piercings that aren't in the ear because they're 'tacky' and unsavoury.

> mammon had an aeroplane phase. he eventually settled on cars, but there are still a few plane magazines stashed in his wardrobe.

> lucifer has grey hair but like. way more than you'd think. he's just really good at hiding it. he may or may not have used some sort of magic to hide it, until eventually he gives up and starts to let it show. that's why in some artwork/pictures he has grey streaks, and in some he has none.

> beelzebub has tried to eat so many of the paintings in the HoL that they have to be sealed with magic, lest he devour another family portrait.

> barbatos' tail is "slimy" or "slick" because it's actually poisonous, like those frogs. that's why he doesn't like people touching it, except for that one picture where Solomon tries to touch it (i reckon he got tired of him trying to touch it so he just allows him to be poisoned lmao)

> demons will eat humans. this is a known fact, although it's usually only very low-level demons who are starving, or have succumbed to their sins completely who eat humans. beelzebub has thought about it a few times but he likes MC far too much to truly consider eating them.

> expanding on the last point, the Devildom is overpopulated. im calling it. i headcanon that demons (particularly glutton demons) casually partake in cannibalism. there are too many demons/other species and as such, the laws basically don't exist. the answer to overpopulation is basically murder, or cannibalism.

> the brothers don't try and tone down the more "demon" elements of themselves around MC until someone mentions that humans don't really like that kind of thing. MC has seen some SHIT man.

> leviathan refuses to eat fish or seafood because of Henry 2.0. mammon has 100% tricked him into eating like a fishcake or something. he definitely cried a lot that day.

> i think all of the brothers snore, except for belphegor (ironic huh). asmodeus adamantly denies snoring, but he does. mammon snores the loudest obviously. everyone else just snores a normal amount, and lucifer falls asleep in his chair/on the sofa a lot so his snoring is heard the most. he's a dad at heart.

> satan hates that people mistake him for lucifer. that's obvious. he hates it so much that he once wrote a book on the subject, under a pen name, and it was surprisingly popular. he doesn't think anyone knows he wrote it, but lucifer knows. he simply never said anything because he was secretly proud of satan for how well he could write.

hopefully these make sense. god i forgot just how much this game actually made me think. i love world building yarhhhhggh

> asmodeus is deathly afraid of head lice. that's it that's the headcanon.

oh yeah the ole ask box is open. send me asks im so desperate ill take anything

[linkspooky]

GREAT TEACHER, GOJO

For my final commentary on chapter 236, I thought I'd talk about this panel the starter of a million flame wars on twitter dot com. The big controversy is Nanami stating that Gojo fought only for himself without mentioning his students which a lot of people thought was a last minute reversal on Gojo's character, or character regression.

I'm not going to call anyone stupid, or say if you have good teacher Gojo headcanons you're wrong. However, I'd like to point out that Gojo's always been more complicated than most shonen mentors. He's not Kakashi, and he's not Aizawa, and I'd argue the fact that he's not the standard "I'd die to protect my students" mentor we see in shonen manga is what makes him interesting.

The Springtime of Youth

Jujutsu Kaisen is a shonen jump manga that is very aware of the other manga that are running in the same magazine and uses that awareness to play with audience expectations.

To put it simply if you don't want to use words like Deconstruction - if you're reading Jujutsu Kaisen then things are probably not going to go the way you expect them. It's not Naruto, it's not My Hero Academia, it's a little bit like Bleach except characters actually die.

If you expect things to go one way in Jujutsu Kaisen, then you're going to be thrown a curveball. To name some examples briefly before diving into Gojo.

Yuji Itadori is a normal boy protagonist suddenly dragged into the world of the supernatural.

However, everything goes wrong from there. Jujutsu Sorcerers are not heroes. Yuji is told that much from the beginning by Megumi within the first thirteen chapters. The world of Jujutsu Sorcery is not a good place to be, Yuji is initially excited to be a sorcerer and to be a part of this world and then learns that lesson fast. I mean, imagine if Deku was accepted to UA, and then he immediately learned that students at the school die on the regular and all the adults are either terrible selfish people, or if they're not they die too like Nanami because being selfless means sticking your neck out for someone else.

Yuji's not really special in the narrative. He's just a kid who swallowed a finger. He doesn't have a secret technique. We're hundreds of chapters in and he's still just punching people. If he's cornered in a fight he doesn't unlock a secret technique either, he just loses.

Yuji has a superpowered evil side, like the nine tailed fox, or Hollow Ichigo except it's not really his super powered evil side. It's an evil parasite attached to his soul with a will of its ownt hat will manipualte him. Hollow Ichigo and the Kyuubi can escape temporarily and there's usually no consequence. Sukuna escapes twice, the first time he nearly kills Megumi, the second time he kills thousands.

Yuji is kind of like a main character who is not a main character.

If you still believe he's the main character, then you can agree he's punished for thinking he's the main character and therefore things are going to be easy, because nothing is ever easy in Jujutsu Kaisen.

Megumi is a riff on the chosen one. He's supposed to be the Gojo Satoru of his generation, born with the strongest technique that ca even surpass the limitless and he's nowhere near the level he's supposed to be. This is because Megumi has been continually failed by every adult figure all his life, starting with his father who sold him, then Gojo the man who SAVED* him techically but with a big asterisk that he needed to become his student and do jobs for Jujutsu High School otherwise Gojo would just let the Zen'in take him or let them starve I guess. Megumi has no adult figures to rely on, and has been given very little freedom about who or what he wants to be in his life, and therefore he's a very passive, repressed individual who's riddled with insecurities. Megumi doesn't want to be the strongest like Gojo, or like many hero / rival characters in shonen manga. Megumi doesn't even know what he wants to be, because he's never been given any choice in life.

If you don't think Megumi's a deconstruction of any sort of character type, look at those posts on twitter that are like "Look at the black haired depressed shonen boys" and then look at Megumi, he's never actually like any of these boys because he's much deeper and probably closer to being the main character than Yuji is.

Then we get to Gojo who is very unlike all the other mentors in shonen manga.

If Yuji and Megumi are both riffs on a main character, a hero in a world so cynical he's not allowed to play hero and actively punished for it, and a chosen one who doesn't want to be the chosen one then you have Gojo as the mentor who's nothing like the classic mentor.

The problem with mentor characters in fiction is that number one they die a lot (spoiler warning Obi Wan Kenobi dies in Star Wars just so you know) and number two they're not usually the most complex character in the cast.

What is the mentor there for?

To Mentor (duh.)

What this means is they are usually a fully formed adult who can teach a lesson to the main character, who in shonen manga is typically a teenager.

I say they're usually less interesting because stories are about characters changing, or characters learning lessons. A teacher presumably already has learned his lesson. They are usually at the end of their journey and not the beginning, that's why they can offer wisdom to the main characters. They're not usually their own separate characters because of this - a narrative doesn't have time to waste on a character that's not going to change.

Jung had a term for this character, it's called the Wise Old Man.

In Jungian analytical psychology, senex is the specific term used in association with this archetype. Examples of the senex archetype in a positive form include the wise old man or wizard. In the individuation process, the archetype of the Wise old man was late to emerge, and seen as an indication of the Self. 'If an individual has wrestled seriously enough and long enough with the anima (or animus) problem...the unconscious again changes its dominant character and appears in a new symbolic form...as a masculine initiator and guardian, a wise old man, a spirit of nature, and so forth'.

The role of the wise man archetype is to help other people along with their ego development, because usually they are already fully developed individuals.

Obi Wan is the most typical of typical mentors, and he dies in Star Wars because after he finishes teaching Luke he has nothing to do. This is Luke's Hero's Journey. Obi Wan's already happened offscreen, he's at the end of his journey there's no room for change or growth in him because his story purpose is to exist to advise Luke and to do that he needs to be a fully grown adult figure.

The subversion to this when the mentor has their own agenda (Gandalf), or the mentor is as flawed as the main characters themselves and so therefore he has something to learn.

Gojo is kind of a combination of both, like Gandalf he is the mysterious but seemingly all powerful wizard (er... or rather sorcerer) with his own agenda, and he's also practically the fourth member of the main cast who are otherwise all teenagers. In fact, Gojo spells out his agenda in the same panels that everyone uses to constantly assert that Gojo is a good teacher who only wants to protect his students.

He wants to make the Jujutsu World a better place (good) which is why he is raising students so he can turn them into his political allies to make a regime change (hidden agenda).

It's a means justifies the end type scenario. In Gojo's mind the means (raising kids as tools in support of his political agenda) justifies the ends (a better jujutsu world for those children). His motivation is still the same. This is what I think people most often get confused about with Gojo's character. I think he is one hundred percent genuine about wanting a better world.

"I have a dream, I want to reset this crappy Jujutsu World" is his motivation, but not his means. He uses his students as a means to achieve that end. Even if it's purportedly for their sake, he's still using them. I don't even think this is subtext it's text, both Megumi and Yuji call themselves cogs.

"But senpai, what's your function...?"

You could say in this case that the ends don't justify the means. Is Gojo really protecting these kid's youth, if Yuji and Megumi are going around calling themselves cog and acting like they don't matter in the grand scheme of things? In fact the narrative is inviting you to question if Gojo's ends justify his means.

Gojo's ideals can be one hundred percent real, but he can also pick faulty ways of choosing those ideals that fail to live up to them. In fact most people fall short of ideals, that's why they're called ideals. Gojo is taking these kids in because they have strong potential as sorcerers and he wants to recruit them, that's his hidden agenda. It's confirmed in databooks in Yuji and Yuta's case, and even if you don't trust databooks as canon then look at how he treats Megumi.

Megumi is explicitly Gojo's student, not his son. He only intervened in Megumi's situation on the caveat that Megumi work for him. Presumably, if Megumi didn't want to be a sorcerer and just wanted to be a normal kid, Gojo would have either let the Zen'in have him or do nothing. The option of just calling child services and getting someone to foster Megumi until he was older didn't even seem to cross Gojo's mind. There's the help he gives (Food money, rent, protection from the Zen'in) and then the hidden agenda (Don't work for the Zen'in who are my political rivals, you're my student now).

Yet at the same time Gojo is shown going to find Megumi after Geto's defection, probably because of the words he said to Yaga "You can only save those who want to be saved," when he realized it was too late for Geto. Was he intervening earlier for Megumi because he learned from being too late with Geto? Did he think Megumi needed guidance, or did he think Megumi needed protection in his youth so the Jujutsu World wouldn't corrupt him like it did Geto, or did he think he just needed to make it so Megumi was strong so he wouldn't fall behind him because Geto fell so far behind him once Gojo became the strongest. There's ambiguity there, because the hidden agenda is you know... Hidden. That's what I mean with Gojo though, you can look at him from multiple angles, he's not just (I love my students I'd die for them) because that character would only have one purpose in the narrative and that'd be being the perfect mentor who teaches them all the right lessons.

Gojo's not like other mentors, and in fact he's a commentary on the mentors that everyone is always comparing him to and expecting him to be like.

Literally everyone who reads Naruto has the exact same response, "I hate how the manga never talks about how it's a bad thing to send these child soldiers into war, and nobody breaks the cycle."

There are a lot of people unhappy about the same thing in My Hero Academia, "Why does nobody talk about how wrong it is that the adults make these high school students fight on the battlefield."

Well there you go. That's Gojo. His dream is to make it so Jujutsu Society is a place where teenagers can survive until adulthood. His method of doing so is to... raise those teenagers to be stronger than the previous generation, but you know still letting them be child soldiers on the battlefield just stronger ones. He does this because if he's working within the system the his two choices are raise a group of people who can age out and replace the old regime, or just kill everyone at the top.

Everyone complains about how no one talks about the child soldiers in Naruto or My Hero Academia, but here you go, we have a manga that is centered around how messed up it is to send high school students to continually fight these curses before they even turn eighteen. Gojo's sending these kids out there still even if he wants to change things, and it's supposed to be a little messed up and also a contradiction to what his ideals are supposed to be.

Because in My Hero Academia you have characters like Aizawa and Kakashi who are "I will die for my students" but then they just send those teens out to fight in a war, and seem totally fine with that. It's a hole in the writing, but this time it's done on purpose, to ask why these adults are always comfortable sending teenagers out to fight for them?

Jujutsu Kaisen provides two answers, number one the system is inherently corrupt and it sees the youth as cogs because the system is rooted in traditions that keep the elderly in power. Number two, in Gojo's case at least this is exactly what it was like for him growing up as a child. Gojo is just repeating with his students what was done to him, subconsciously.

The reason Nanami said this, and then repeated it in this most recent chapter is Gojo was born to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer. Being a Jujutsu Sorcerer is a highly deadly occupation for everyone else, except for Gojo. Not only that but because he's so good at it, and he's so lauded for it he's built his entire identity around it. Nanami's not just saying that Gojo is selfish, he's also saying that Gojo thinks being a sorcerer is a good thing. It is the end all, be all of Gojo's existence.

He doesn't want to make it so sorcerers don't have to fight, or make it so all cursed energy is gone for the world like Yuki Tsukumo, his dream is actually kind of limited in scope he doesn't want the school days of his students to be destroyed by the outside world the way it was for him and Geto.

Gojo looks at the symptoms and not the cause. Geto defected, Haibara died, Yaga wasn't really able to do much for his students in both scenarios. Gojo deduced it was because the elders and regressive policies were holding people back in favor of keeping the regime in charge (correct) and that because of that the sorcerers in Gojo's high school years just weren't strong enough to keep up (this is just what Gojo thinks).

His words to Megumi are encouraging him to be strong so he won't get left behind, which as I speculated above might imply Gojo thinks that part of what went wrong with Geto was that he simply wasn't strong enough to keep up with Gojo or stay on his level. If not then he still encourages Megumi to get strong before everything else, he's not taking care of these kids emotional needs, he's pushing them to get stronger because in Gojo's mind that's the be all end all solution to every problem.

"Nanami's line was not saying that Gojo doesn't care about children, it's saying that "You live for Jujutsu." It is the lens through which Gojo sees everything, and so therefore he doesn't think of breaking kids out of the Jujutsu World, just making it a place that's slightly more safe for them. Gojo's ego is so strong that he only ever sees things from his point of view, being a sorcerer was fun for him, his high school days were the happiest time in his life before they got ruined by outside forces.

He's trying to protect those days for his children, but he's not arguing against the existence of an institution like Jujutsu High in the first place. He's not saying the teenagers should never be sent out on missions, he's saying we need to make the teens stronger. If they're stronger than they won't die (that's probably true but they'll be even safer if they don't have to go on missions in the first place).

Now we have a reason! Why do Aizawa and Kakashi send out child soldiers into the battlefield if their goal is to protect their students? Because it's a shonen manga and the main characters are all teenagers.

Why does Gojo send out teenagers to fight for him if he wants to protect them, well I just explained it.

In fact, the entire purpose of Nanami in the story is to give us a character who explicitly treats children like they are children and not miniature adults. Who acknowledges that this is emotionally hard for children to deal with and they shouldn't have to do that.

Nanami's lines of "I'm an adult you're a child" and "Being a child is not a bad thing." would not have the weight they carry if they weren't so different from the way that every other adult in the story (including Gojo) treats children.

Nanami and Gojo have the same goal of making being a Jujutsu Sorcerer easier for children, but Nanami practices what he preaches. He tells Yuji to stand back and that he doesn't need to fight if he sees an enemy that's too strong, to let the adult on scene handle things first.

When he sees that Yuji is disturbed by the idea of killing former humans that Mahito had changed with his technique, he consoles him. He knows that Yuji is a sensitive kid and tries to spare him as much of that grief as possible. When he leaves Yuji behind he tells him explicitly that he's the adult in this situation, he shouldn't be forcing a child to help carry that burden if it's not necessary.

He also explicitly tells Yuji that being strong or jumping into life threatening situations =/= as growing up. Nanami is a character aware that the problem isn't that the children are not strong enough, but that too much responsibility is being thrown on these children. That there is a difference between what children and adults are emotionally capable of. Gojo doesn't see that difference because he reached enlightenment as seventeen. He even explicitly chose Nanami because Gojo knew he wasn't good at that stuff.

Nanami was not saying that Gojo doesn't care about children, Nanami was saying Gojo lives to be a sorcerer, Gojo who loves sorcery doesn't understand why being a sorcerer is too much of an emotional burden on a child. He just doesn't. He literally says his students are flowers.

Now, here's the kicker. Nanami dies.

Nanami wanted Yuji to not take on too much responsibility, and he died leaving Yuji with more responsibility than he could ever carry. Nanami failed in his goal, despite the fact he is the most responsible and well-meaning adult in the story who treats children like they're children.

The reason he dies is because this is what happens to people like Nanami in Jujutsu Society. The whole of society is built to condition people into being cogs and Nanami who's just one person can't overcome it on his own. I can write a whole meta on how Nanami's way of dealing with children is way better than Gojo's and yet they do essentially the same thing, throw way too much responsibility onto Yuji even though he's just a kid. They're both too ingrained in the system to make any sweeping changes, and that's why the child soldiers keep on child soldiering.

Gojo as a Character

The second reason as eluded above that Gojo is not meant to be read as a perfect teacher, or even a good one really is because he's the fourth main character of the cast. If you are a main character, then you need a flaw, and an arc where you either improve upon that flaw or you succumb to it in tragic fashion.

Gojo's not the perfect adult mentor, because he's kind of in the same place as the kids themselves. I think there's a reason we never learn anything about Gojo's backstory, we know nothing about his parents, the Gojo clan, because those details aren't as relevant. The most important thing about Gojo is the three years he spent at high school, because that was the only time he felt like a person, and also because he is trapped there mentally.

There's a reason that Gojo's dying dream is him imagining everyone reset to seventeen years old, because that was where the clock stopped for him in his youth, and that was where all of his regrets as an adult come from. His motivation to help teenagers today only comes from his own youth being ruined, and the adults in his life failing to protect him.

It's very likely that Gojo who lives for Jujutsu probably would never have realized the problems in his current society, if his youth wasn't ruined by those same adults he's now fighting against.

The reason most mentor figures in fiction are not main characters is because as adults they don't really need to grow up anymore. The obvious solution is that you just need your mentor character to just fail to be an adult in some glaring way.

To show how Gojo falls short as an adult, especially in regards to these children and how he treats them is to drag him down from all powerful, all knowing wizard, and make him struggle with the rest of the main cast. Gojo is not a positive adult figure in these kids lives despite having the best of intentions, because he's not really an adult.

I guess if you were already the best and strongest person in the world at seventeen, smarter and more capable than all the adults around you, you wouldn't really feel the need to grow up. Coupled with the fact that you are alienated from other people and do not relate to them on a personal level that's not going to help with your identity formation.

I mean I constantly compare Gojo to Superman, but to be fair to Gojo instead of bullying him like I usually do Clark Kent was raised by parents who raised a boy not a superman, and who constantly tell him that he's just a normal person, his powers don't make him great, it's his heart.

Nanami says that Gojo only fights for himself that ""You don't wield Jujutsu to protect something, you use it solely to for your own sake. What a weirdo" it's likely Gojo only fights for himself because he's never ben told that's he's more than just the six-eyes and more than just the limitless.

The best way to make a mentor a part of the cast, is to make them through some way or another have failed to grow up properly in their youth and therefore they need to do it while the story is taking place. We know how Gojo failed, his springtime of youth ended early, it ended the day he couldn't stop Geto from leaving, the day he can be the strongest sorcerer ever and still fail because sorcerer society is too corrupt for one person to handle alone. We also know he didn't really grow up past this point, because he still thinks the solution is to make people be stronger. Why does he not do anything about Geto for 11 years? In story terms he's basically suspended in time unable to grow past Geto. Kenjaku literally uses the trauma from his youth and the memories that seeing Geto alive would provoke in Gojo again, to trap him because he knew it would make him freeze up. Gojo is frozen in the past, he failed to grow up in story terms and must now grow up while the main story itself is taking place along with the children he's trying to raise.

This is how you make a mentor interesting. You have to make them flawed in some way that makes it worth having them onscreen, because a perfect mentor only serves one purpose to teach a main character and then he's gone.

Dazai Osamu from Bungo Stray Dogs is a character that's almost as massively popular as Gojo. Similiarly, he is a teenage genius who found trouble relating to other people who is now as an adult attempting to mentor two children.

However, Dazai's faults as a mentor are made much more explicit.

Dazai suddenly punched Akutagawa in the face, preventing him from finishing his sentence. Akutagawa flew back onto the ground, his head bouncing off the stone flooring with a thud. "Perhaps I made it look like I wanted to hear excuses. Sorry for the misudnerstanding," Dazai said while rubbing his knuckles. "Urg..." Akutagawa moaned. He'd hit his head so hard that he couldn't even stagger to his feet. "Give me your gun," Dazai ordered one of his men. The subordinate was hesitant but nonetheless handed over his weapon. Next, Dazai removed the magaine from the automatic pistol, took out all but three bullets, then put the magazine back in. He immediately pointed the gun at Akutagawa, who was still on the ground. "I have this friend who's supporting several orphans all on his own, you see," he continued his weapon still drawn and aimed at the boy. "AKutagawa I'm sure Odasaku would've been patient enough to give you the guidance you needed had he been the one who'd found you on the brink of starvation right in the slums. That would have been the 'right' thing to do. But 'righteousness' doesn't take very kindly to me. And there's only one thing people like me do to useless subordinates." Dazai mercilessly pulled the trigger the moment he finished his sentence.

(Don't worry, Akutagawa lived). Dazai is a character who had a troublesome youth he never grew up from. He was too smart for the world as a kid, and because of that joined up with the mafia because he wanted to feel like he was more connected to life and other people by getting closer to death (weird dazai logic I know) and was the best of the best at it, but it only drove him further away from people. He makes one friend, and loses that friend similiar to Gojo. Just like Gojo too, that friend is the one who gives him his purpose as an adult that drives him to mentor young people.

"Odasaku.. What should I do?" "Be on the side that saves people," Odasaku replied, "If both sides are the same, then choose to become a good person. Save the weak, protect the orphaned. You might not see a great difference between right and wrong, but... saving others is something just a bit more wonderful."

Is this not what Nanami said just in different words. Odasaku tells Dazai point blank, I know you're selfish, I know that you don't really have any concept of good or evil but you can choose to save others anyway.

Isn't this what Gojo does?

He is selfish. He doesn't really consider the morality or his actions or get hung up on the idea of protecting the weak like Nanami or Geto do, but he still does go out of his way to live for the ideal of saving children.

Both Gojo and Dazai are characters who are struggling with this ideal of saving the children, because while their ideals are good they themselves as people are morally gray. Adding onto that, they're also children and a good deal of their backstory is devoted to showing why they never really grew out of the mindset that they held as children.

The story doesn't call them horrible monsters for it, it's just saying that they need to grow up or face the consequences of not growing up.

"I have one regret," I said. "I never got to say good-bye to my friend. He was always there for me as 'just a friend.' He was bored of this world and always waited for death to come for him." "That man was in search of a place to die just like me?" "No, not exactly," I answered. "I thought you were similiar to Dazai at first, rushing into battle and wishing for death without even considering the value of your own life. But he's different. He's sharp-witted with a mind like a steel trap. And he's just a child - a sobbing child abandoned in the darkness of a world far emptier of the world we're seeing." He was too smart for his own good. THat was why he was always alone. The reason why ANgo and I were able to be by his side was that we understood the solitude that surrounded him, and we never stepped inside it no matter how close we stood. But in that moment, I kind of regretted not stepping in and invading a little.

Does that sound like the narrative is condemning Dazai for being who he is? No, it's Dazai's best friend offering empathy and understanding for how lonely it must be, and how if Dazai made real connections with people then he could have a chance of growing up like everyone else. That's what the narrative challenges Dazai to do while empathizing with why it's harder for him to and why he's still trapped in his youth, because to take care of children you need to be an adult yourself. Otherwise if you're a child, and I'm a child, then nobody's driving the plane.

Rupert Giles from Buffy the Vampire Slayer is another mentor who faces the same moral dilemna that Gojo does. In fact his entire character revolves around the fact he knows deep down he's sending a kid to her early grave.

Buffy is the Chosen One TM. One girl in all the world is chosen to fight the vampires. Much like sorcerer society, there is an entire bureaucracy dedicated to identifying the chosen slayer and then raising her up and guiding her as a weapon to be used against the threat of vampires and demons.

The watchers are all adults. The slayer is a teenage girl. The slayer slays. The watchers watch. Just like in Jujutsu Kaisen, there is a necessity for the Slayer to exist, because the alternative is just letting vampires eat people. Yet even if the slayer needs to exist, at the end of the day a bunch of adult men are sending a teenage girl to fight for them.

All Slayers die young. All of them without an exception. No matter how good of a mentor is, no matter how much he cares about her, Buffy is going to die one day, and Giles is going to watch. Because that's what the watcher does, they watch. Sending her on missions means Buffy's in danger, not sending her means innocent people are in danger.

It's a scenario that's pretty much like Gojo's, and the narrative of Buffy makes it explicit that Giles really can't be a father figure to bufy in this scenario. A father would have to choose to put their child above the world and keep them safe, not send them out straight into danger.

It is a choice that Giles makes over and over again. He is always her watcher and never her father. There's a season 3 episode where Giles literally drugs Buffy as a part of a test to prove she is "worthy" of being a slayer. A test that deliberately puts her in harms way that he complies with - because the system told him to. A choice to be her watcher and act according to what the council of watchers wanted and not what Buffy wanted. A choice that shatters the illusion that Buffy had of him, showing her that Giles is only there to teach her to be a Slayer, not to take her to the iceapades or buy ice cream with her.

In this scenario Gojo is very much like Giles as no matter how much he may personally like these kids, he is not their father, and there is only so much he can do for them when he's still feeding them into the same system. Giles loves Buffy, Giles wants to protect Buffy, Giles is a part of the system that exploits Buffy. Giles is an adult asking Buffy to risk her life to save the world.

Gojo goes out of his way to recruit Megumi, Yuji, and Yuta among others. Gojo still doesn't let them be anything other than sorcerers, and as sorcerers they're still guaranteed to one day die and probably die young. Gojo wants to revolutionize the system he is, but he still sends out his students to do missions as part of that system. He's not letting them escape it, he's just making them be stronger sorcerers.

Not only is Gojo not a father figure to Megumi, he is exploiting him more or less. The option of Megumi not being a sorcerer isn't on the table. No matter how well-intentioned he may be, or how good his ideals are he's still an adult telling a child to make a sacrifice for the world.

So, there are two character conflicts with two different mentors that both reflect Gojo. Gojo cannot grow up because he's still trapped in the tragedy of his youth. He himself is not an adult, for various reasons (lack of connection to other people, trauma in his youth) he's egocentric like a child but there are children in his life who need him to be.

Gojo also cannot be a proper adult, because he is part of a system that exploits children. We see what the system does to proper adults like Nanami, he shows us just how much well-intentioned adults struggle to help kids under sorcerer society so how about Gojo who thinks being a sorcerer is really fun. A proper adult would never send kids on those missions, they'd find some way to shield them but Gojo cannot do that. Because sorcerers are short staffed and innocent people will die if he doesn't. Because Gojo isn't the sorcer-king of Jujtusu Society and is working within it to affect change. There are reasons, but still Gojo is failing to live up to his desire to protect children because he's not doing what a responsible adult should do in this situation.

Gojo's failures are two-fold, and yet it's because of those failures that he was a main character who got as much special plot attention as he did. If Gojo was a perfect teacher he wouldn't be a character. After all, we relate to the struggles of other human beings we see onscreen in television and in movies so why would we care about a perfect character?

Gojo has a lot more to say about teachers in shonen manga, and also about childhood vs. adulthood as a bad teacher struggling to be a good one, then a teacher who's already perfect. Nanami said those lines because he wanted us to understand the audience that this is who Gojo is, he is a selfish and egotistical person who nonetheless was trying to do good things.

[hawtlineblingz]

☁️ CLOUD'S MOODBOARD ☁️

I was never the same person after FFVII Rebirth, i need to get rid of my Cloud brainrots. So here is some BF Cloud headcanons (god help me i need him in my life) ...

As we all know, deepdown Cloud is a goofball by heart. Friendly banter, silly inner jokes that only you two could understand is not new.

Prefer to have dates with less people.

Surprisingly not shy with PDA, just normal ones like handholdings, would rest his hand on your shoulder or back, etc.

Took you out with Fenrir; Nicely polished. His back seat served only for you.

Babysitting dates! Amusement park / arcade, the four of you; You, Cloud, Denzel, and Marlene. Would give them everything he got in trade for Marlene and Denzel's smile, something he wishes to have when he was younger.

Denies so hard when you tell him he's actually good at tending kids. The pink hue on his cheeks and ears can't lie tho.

Quiet bold in private, isn't afraid to initiate things once he's comfortable enough with you, pulling you on his lap when he's feeling a bit touch starved; only SOMETIMES he can malfunctioned after he make a move on you.

Easily worried type of BF.

OBSERVANT.

Loves tiny matching items.

Bro is a slow kisser.

Comfy silence is common with him around, just you doing your own thing and him doing his own thing. In the same room at the same time, aka PARALLEL PLAY is his type of quality time.

Would let you yap about your hyperfixations no matter what it is.

Try his best to love you correctly. His past doesn't allow him to feel things, often felt numb before he met you. When actually he has so much love to give to the people around him. Secretly teared up when he thinks about how many chances you gave him trough out the relationship, despite he is in the process of healing himself.

"You're not funny." he lied. He loves how corny your jokes is sometimes, brings smile to his face when he's alone.

The way he calms you down when things aren't going your way. Cloud does not talk alot but he has his ways to make sure you know he would always be there for you even when the world isn't on your side.

HIS. DATE. FITS. ACTUALLY. ATE. "Where did you learned to style your fits like this Cloud?", "dunno, magazines? I think? i hope i don't look wierd."

smitten eyes.

Hates it when you "bro" him (lykyk).

"I AIN'T YOUR BRO".

His phone gallery is most likely filled pics of your candids, Marlene, Denzel, baby chocobos, Fenrir, and the most random stuff ever. "Cloud, why'd you kept a pic of our electric fan?", "honestly...i don't remember."

Cloud cosplay pictures are from @_allixter_ on TikTok. Go check out his account!

[sunnytotherescue]

Despite Mephistopheles being my sweetie cakes honey pie, I'm also quite the fan of Asmodeus!! He's a cutie >w<

I want to cover him in bruises.

cw: ruining the pretty boy, kinda mean reader, ...asmos' tiny peen. hehehe

Avatar's Thirst. Asmodeus mindlessly flipped through the latest print of it, peach-pink lips forming a small frown as he studied the images of himself.

It was a porn magazine. His porn magazine. The monthly subscription was stupid expensive, but any less and the demon's who bought it wouldn't be worthy of his grace. Every picture was perfect, his makeup flawless, the camera angles just right, and all the lingerie sets the camera crew gave matched nicely.

But that was the problem.

Asmodeus was too perfect. Too clean and spotless in all of the photos. Don't get it wrong, the people ate up every picture of him like starved dogs. It was Asmodeus himself that was unhappy.

He wanted something new, something different and something that would give him back that feeling of excitement again which he had missed so much when publishing lewd prints of himself.

That's where you came in. He told you to be mean. To be cruel and to make him cry.

And you listened.

"G-God!! Oh fuck-!" Asmodeus cried out, glittery red nails clawing at pristine white sheets as you pounded him like a bull. He'd dressed in deep reds that night, lips a dark rose with matching nails. Oh he looked so beautiful, so easy to ruin.

Mascara ran down his cheeks and stained his skin. Drool slipped from his lips with every breath that was punched from his lungs. "Please- ah! Please!" A camera went off, capturing the sobbing expression. He couldn't feel his legs at this point and your hands had to be leaving marks, had to be bruising his spotless skin. Just what he asked for.

"Stop moving." You snapped at him, frustrated with his squirming. He couldn't help it though, not with how your cock split him open, squeezing into his walls and forcing him to just take and take and take.

"Can't- can't I can't pleash!" Asmo sobbed shaking his head rapidly as a camera lowered to get a full view of his face. Your tip slammed into his prostate with every thrust, abusing the swollen gland over and over again. "You asked for this." He trembled at your words, crying, sobbing loudly. He'd already cum so much, the bedding below soaked in a puddle of his own semen. You were surprised that such a pathetic cock could produce so much. "knn- know! I know- but s' t-tomchh-" Asmo choked on his own words, slurring them together as his mind melted into mush.

He was starting to babble, incoherent sounds and begging accompanied the sinful plap plap plap of your hips slamming against his ass, sending the bruised-red skin rippling.

Asmodeus wailed, dick spurting out one last sad orgasm before a camera went off, and just 2 days later, his sales skyrocketed.

Suddenly, your hand came up and tangled into his hair, yanking the strawberry locks and forcing him to pull up. Asmodeus scrambled, trying to hold onto something as his back met your chest. The new position exposed his stomach, making the poor demon feel even more vulnerable as he heard a camera zoom in on where you two were connected. "Look so pathetic like this." You spoke into his ear, wrapping an arm around his waist so you could press a hand against his belly. "Feel that? S'me, so deep in you, ain't I?" He whimpered, eyes nearly crossing from the bulge rearranging his guts. He swears your in his lungs.

A final thrust forced him to sink down on your cock just as you cum, painting his walls with your essence and filling him up to the brim.

He'd be needing you again.

[wolkoshka]

Paranormal II

summary: after your injury in the birthday party, Ghost takes you home, takes care of your wound - and finally gives you a night you’ll never forget… Simon Riley/Ghost x Reader

warnings: slow-burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, mutual pining, excessive drunk flirting, slightly dark!Simon, touch-starved Simon, trying to get into Simon’s pants (and sort of succeeding??), nsfw-themed

•this is a simon riley ficlet, I repeat, this is not a one-shot but contains a bit of plot and character development, bcs god knows we need 'em

•part 2/3

an: here is part ii, and yes, yes, I know! It’s long overdue. You’re gonna have to forgive a girlie and her lack of awareness to the passage of time.

"I said go get him, not split yer head open. Ooch, lassie, look at ye bruising up. That's an ugly one."

Johnny hassled over you, thumbing your temples as he examined your wound.

Ghost had temporarily dropped you at the bar to go hunting for a med kit. When your gaze had arrayed the room, your best friend had caught your eye, smirking - only to then gasp and push his way to you.

"So what happened?"

"Mating dance," you retorted dryly.

You pressed the glove back to the wound when Johnny released you, leaning against the counter in a snort.

"Did he fall for it?"

"Hardly." Your shoulders slumped defeatedly. "I don't think he likes me very much, Johnny."

"That's Lt for ye, lass. Guy wears a skull for a face. Says he sleeps soundly in it. Shudders, I tell ye. You'd think that'd make ye think twice before approaching him, eh?"

"I think my brain short-circuited precisely for those reasons. I think maybe this hit to the head will remedy that. God knows I need to get him out of my system. A full-on purge. Like those, uh, uh, really intense only-water-for-dinner kind of diets."

"It's hard to get someone ye don't know out of yer mind."

"Exactly! Jokes aside, this is insane even by drunk me standards. Never thought I'd have a crush at this age, but, whelp, here goes nothing! Will get him out of my mind as soon as I stop gawking at those muscles, okay?"

Your friend chuckled.

Over Soap's shoulder, you caught sight of Ghost's form paving way to you, broad shoulders squared, back straight and gait commanding. And yet, there was an almost endearing swagger to his stride, subtle as it was, and it only added to the unmistakable confidence simmering underneath that quiet outfit.

Suddenly, you were air-headed. In the manner people jumped out of his path like he was the most lethal being they'd ever beheld had you seeing rainbows and hearing angelic hymns.

A stupid girl with her big, stupid crush. When was the last time you got one, anyway? High school, that's when. And you felt like a silly schoolgirl again, all those eighth grade magazines on how to talk to boys and attract your crush flooding back.

You wondered what three-way advice they would spell out for someone like Ghost.

Bathe in the blood of his enemies. A sexy look can go a long way!

Rip out the heart of his enemy and gift it to him. All men enjoy a sincere show of affection every now and then!

Take a bullet for him. Take several! Nothing says I have the hots for you like bleeding out in the arms of your crush!

When his eyes found yours, uncompromising and intense even from such distance, the choir increased until you felt like your chest might implode.

"Never mind," you dreamily sighed. This particular crush wasn't leaving anytime soon.

"Johnny," Ghost voiced, coming around the man. To you, he crooked a finger. "They got band-aids, but I need to stitch you up. We'll resolve the matter in your place."

Your head perked. "We will?"

Was your night actually going to end with Ghost in your apartment? Maybe even bed?

You looked at Johnny, Johnny looked at you - and you both raised your eyebrows in a knowing look.

"What the bloody hell you two peepin' at each other for?" Ghost growled.

"Peepin'? What's peepin'?" Johnny.

"We're not peepin'." You.

Eager, you hopped down - and immediately regretted it when your vision swayed. Whoops... You clutched your head tighter.

"Easy there," Johnny voiced, hands supporting your shoulders.

Once you righted, you looked up at Ghost. Expectant. Would he carry you?

You kind of, sort of, definitely desired his arms around you again.

As if seeing right through your needs, the muscle below his eye twitched. He set a challenge with his gaze, forcing you to admit defeat and walk a soldier's walk.

You faintly winced. Shrugged. "Owh, my poor head. I feel...dizzy. So dizzy. Don't know...might even trip in the rain. Get a concussion..." Another meek yet daring shrug. "So inconvenient, no?"

"Maybe ye need to go the hospital, lass - Umpf!"

You shut Johnny up with a backward punch to the groin, attention never wavering from Ghost.

There was a soft inquisitive sound, an arch of your brow, before he conceded with a weary blink of his eyes. You had to love the way his lashes fanned every time he did that. Long, thick, and softly curled, they might just make a girl jealous.

Internally, you performed a victory dance. Externally, you outstretched an arm.

His killer biceps bulged around your frame, tugging you close, as he lifted you off your feet. When you corded your arm around his neck and nestled your face on his pec, lashes batting up at him, Ghost looked like he was near to dropping you on your arse and dragging you by your heels instead.

"Don't get used to it, poppy," he grated low.

You wore a look of mock-surprise. "Never."

Gaze too slow to leave your face he spoke to Johnny next, "I'll meet you at the base." He strode past, strong legs falling into pace. "Don't be late. And for fuck's sake, Johnny, get some rest."

Johnny grinned, the act slightly laced with pain due to your earlier assault. "Ye got it, Lt." To you, he gave you a proud thumb's up.

Over Ghost's shoulder, you blew him a kiss and mouthed happy birthday, and I love you big time, you sucker.

When the bar door closed behind you, you pointed out to Simon that he'd forgotten your umbrella and proton pack.

For the umbrella, he said the rain might help sober you up. As for your proton pack, he didn't even bother providing an answer as he took down the street, all pleased with himself as rain mercilessly pelted your face.

When lightning crackled and thunder roared overhead, you thought you felt his arms slightly draw you closer, a bit nearer, but dismissed it, blaming it instead on your active imagination and stupor.

.

What the bloody hell was he doing, Ghost questioned, standing in your open kitchen and preparing tea for two.

Steam curdled up, obscuring his masked face as he poured green tea into two cups. Clasping the handles, he turned from the counter to place them on the marbled island.

Your abode was a spacious loft with four large windows peering out into the bustling city, the London Eye and the River Thames a distant view, with a ceiling that rose six meters high.

Before him was a sitting area with a comfortable couch, plush armchairs and a TV stand. Fully-stacked bookshelves flanked either side while pots of myriad flowers and wild ferns decorated the space.

A dining table perched to his left, a family photo and Mesopotamian antiques lining the dark cherry wood surface in display. He spotted Johnny in the frame, younger than he's ever seen him, dimples deep in a cheery smile, and he spotted you, hanging onto his shoulders with an eye-crinkling laugh of your own, also young and exuding innocence.

To his far right was your bed, propped against the wall and neatly made, accompanied by nightstands and a reading lamp. To its left was the entrance, separated by a narrow wall of stained glass depicting two mermaids frolicking about. By that, he clearly meant the large cock sprouting from the merman's groin and gripped by the mermaid's slender fingers, their tails entwining as deeply as their tongues, their bodies writhing in unabashed pleasure. It was beautiful, no doubt, made to come alive in colors coral blue, golden, and violet, but Ghost also knew it was custom made.

Anyone would've missed the unorthodox tableau at first glance, but he wasn't anyone.

You had wild fantasies, it appeared, and he wanted to bash his skull in for taking interest in that.

Just like he wanted to bash the mug of green tea in his hand because he couldn't will his feet to walk away.

Granted, you'd asked he stay, at least for a little while, to thank him for taking care of your wound, and sprinting to your bathroom thereafter for a quick shower.

It's been ten minutes now, and Ghost should've been long gone. He couldn't be here. He didn't do one-night stands. He had a number for that, a special visitor, that took care of his needs without him ever needing to undress. Left just as wordlessly when the deed was done. No unnecessary pillow talks, goodbye notes, or call me laters. No strings attached, just as Ghost preferred it.

But you...

The way you wanted him, the way you watched him, eyes growing dark and heavy with desire, it made him realize he'd never been pursued that ardently. Sure, he had instances where he attracted certain women his direction - any bloke with a look like his warranted that - but a simple glower from him had them scurrying off just as quick.

He should be scaring you off too, not exciting you.

Not making you out to be an intoxication he was uncharacteristically impatient to divulge in.

Hell, with his given background and formidable expertise, no one even dared to hold his gaze for longer than three seconds. When he talked, everyone shut up. His reputation preceded him. Yet you... Bloody hell, you not only held your ground, but also eye-fucked him every chance you got.

Ghost didn't quite compute; you were a perfect stranger to him, someone he met but once, and yet you had a face that could make a man happily dream into an early death.

God, there was something about you that made his palms itch for a touch...itch to wrap that hair of yours around his fist, lift his mask, and descend for a proper feeding. A sick, twisted part of Ghost perhaps wanted to see how good you could get him to pillow talk.

It was a passing thought, but chills abraded his forearms. The challenge in it gave him a heated rush of red.

What the hell was the matter with him? he questioned for the umpteenth time.

He shouldn't be wanting such nonsense.

He shouldn't be caring for it either.

He should walk away now. But...

The moment he chose to act, turning, the exit his target, the shower stopped running. The naked pad of footsteps resounded. A towel flapped open. More footsteps, and then -

You emerged from the bathroom, all robed and clean, leaving steam in your wake. It looked like you'd just walked out of a dream, cherub cheeks flushed pink and skin dewy, almost satiny, and - fuck. He internally groaned. He wanted to bite.

What in nine hells? He popped his jaw in frustration.

Upon spotting him, excitement flashed in your eyes, and you nearly skipped over.

"You stayed," you breathily commented, the towel you were using to dry your hair tossed atop the dining table. Traces of vanilla and coconut saturated the air, infiltrating his mask, and his mouth involuntarily watered.

He needed to call that special number tonight, he decreed, or else he wouldn't survive the coming days. Days? More like hour. Keep it together, soldier.

Such unpalatable delight seeped from you, he slowly shook his head.

If only you knew he sewed another man's skull on his mask, beaten to a pulp before stripped clean of all tissue. A constant reminder of what he’d lost. Who he'd lost. If only you knew he viewed the outside world from the eyes of a dead man. If only you knew poison swam in his veins, immortalizing the infectious ichor that damned any soul to near him. Touch him. You would flee the other direction.

You would curse at him, curse him, see him for what he truly was.

A rotting corpse unleashed to the world to haunt. To terrorize.

Would you crave him then, knowing those very hands you wanted wrapped around you had ended lives, and most not so humanely?

He wasn't capable of holding you without hurting you.

Anything good and decent in him had long ago been buried away, and in their stead festered rancid tendencies that worked his mind and body tireless.

Nothing survived him, and you would be no different.

Even tonight, his somber mood a result of the death toll that ripped through his heart, deadened as it was, when he heard - witnessed - the scream of little children blown to pieces by a human bomber he was meant to stop, was no coincidence.

His main objective was to retrieve classified documents, but it had come at a cost when the enemy understood they were compromised.

He had done a bloody good job clearing the entire building, knives soaked crimson, fists even more so, but he'd forgone the basement, a bunker where bombers kept their own hostage. It was a gruesome tactic the enemy utilized to throw their foes off balance. He had a moment's decision before the bomber pressed the button - shoot him with the off-chance of saving the children, get obliterated to pieces and fail the mission, or succeed.

It was either them or the classified intel. He’d ducked for cover.

Choices have consequences, he remembered telling Johnny once, and, fuck, if he didn't hate himself for his.

He tasted the sulfur, the clogging dust saturated with human remains, in the back of his throat. He couldn't wipe those deaths from his eyes no matter how many times he bathed, scrubbed, scraped.

So, no matter you being a perfect stranger, feeding him look upon look of insatiable hunger any man would gladly sacrifice a limb for, he couldn't go down that road.

Especially when you meant so much to Johnny, his brother-in-arms, a man with a heart of gold that reminded Simon of his own. He couldn't do that to him, to you. Christ, he couldn't walk through fire again.

He wouldn't survive it.

And - bollocks, he nearly chuckled - he never sounded more miserable. It didn't matter. He'd be dodging a bullet with you, all right. All his physical needs, he could deal with them like a grown man in the confines of his own four walls.

Besides, he was a goddamn mess tonight, his feelings and thoughts blown asunder. He hadn't slept for seventy-two hours and was in desperate need of some shut-eye.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost," your lilting voice broke through his thoughts. He blinked down at you. You shrugged, a small smile forming. "Funny how that works, don't you think?"

Maybe he should give you a taste of what it meant to know Simon Riley. Maybe then, and only then, would you understand the favor he'd been extending you.

Silently, he pushed the steaming cup of green tea your way.

A soft gasp. "A man after my own heart." Your fingers came around the mug, hugging it close to your chest and taking a cautious sip. "Mmm. Just what I needed."

"You feelin' better?" Christ, he might as well have spat out shards of glass with how rough he'd sounded.

You licked your lips, pink tongue darting out. "Yeah. Much," you whispered. "Thanks."

Your lips enclosed around the rim again, plump, red and eager. Red as poppies. He imagined them closing around something else, something harder, hotter, sweetened by your spit.

His muscles stiffened, the itch flaming his palms. Palms he then curled into tight fists - before releasing.

He unsuccessfully cleared his throat. "Right, then, you get that rest, poppy."

He turned on his heel, the exit never appearing more distant as he marched to it. At the end of the island, he'd left the box of med kit and his glove, and he reached for the latter as he bypassed.

A blur of white and he was staring down at your delicate features again.

"Wait, wait, you can't just leave. And you definitely can't take this." You snatched the glove from his grasp and quickly hid it behind your back. You pursed your lips at his quiet glower. "Because I'll, uh, wash it for you. More polite that way."

Bollocks. You meant to keep what was his, you wily little thing. He could easily wrestle it out of your hands, but he didn't want to give you more incentive to put your hands on him. Or, worse yet, his on you.

"You got somethin' you wanna say?" he roughed out.

"Only that I want to thank you. Properly."

"Properly thanked. Now out of my way."

He meant to sidestep but you halted him with a soft, warm palm on his chest. His heart, for the briefest second, quickened at the gesture. Didn't need incentive at all, it seemed.

You struggled for purchase. "Well - Well, what about your tea?"

"I'll live, poppy."

Another step, another pressing of your hand against his body. More adamantly this time.

Bloody hell, such a tiny thing, you were, but he'd never encountered a bigger hindrance. Especially when he was oh, so close to the exit. He was positive you were going to lock your door and swallow the key if he did not indulge you a moment's courtesy.

His abrasive exhale of defeat finally brought your palm down from his chest, and he - what? Wanted to beat your white-bricked walls in at the loss of contact? Absolutely not - couldn't have felt better.

His lids dropped, and his look of defiance rivaled yours. For a second too intense for his liking, both of you were stuck in a battle of wills.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Four se -

Christ. That pulled a reaction from him, primal and almost aggressive. The kind that had the blood in his veins rushing hot and wild.

His low, grumbling voice, a contrast to the sudden, violent need unfurling in his lower abdomen, vibrated the still air between you.

"Properly thank me how?"

Of all the answers he could've expected, with how your teeth worried your lower lip, nibbling at the fleshly petal, or how your lashes fluttered, somehow nervous, or even with how your cheeks dusted pink in evident arousal, that is, a meek, "Biscuits?" was definitely not it.

His head jerked back, a frown creasing his forehead. "Biscuits?"

He fuckin' loved biscuits.

"Yes. With tea?"

Hell, he loved that more.

He let your words sit for a while. Then, "You got any ginger nuts there, poppy?"

A bashful smile revealed a row of straight, white teeth. He wanted to scrape his own against them, his tongue coaxing in to steal a little taste of you. At the heady image, he tensed.

Growled.

You swallowed. "You don't have to be so angry about it. I've got them. Come on, then, I'll share my favorites with you."

In under five minutes, you had the Ghost sprawled atop your bed goddamn picnicking with a plate of biscuits and a mug of tea in hand.

Having made away with his leather jacket, he leaned back into a heap of pillows you'd placed for him, and - oh, that felt good - his muscles hissed in pleasure at having finally relaxed.

He grunted, his lids threatening to drift shut. Your bed was warm, soft, and smelled of wild lilacs - all qualities Ghost was estranged to in the field, which happened to dominate the better part of his life.

"You'll love this," you said from your spot next to him. He'd momentarily slacked off, and your voice brought him back from the abating garden of flowers he was surrendering himself to.

He breathed in deep, pulling focus.

Having dimmed the lights to your loft, you wiggled to a comfortable position and succumbed to your own nest of pillows.

You smelled like a peachy sunset over a beach of glistening sands, and if he touched you, you'd feel even better.

And now he was turning into a bloody poet.

If 141 ever saw him like this, Ghost would never live it down.

He balanced his plate of biscuits and mug of tea on his lap, but when you pressed your shoulder to his, he nearly spilled the hot liquid over his pants.

It also chased the sleep from his burning lids, and, quietly, he suffered your presence.

His body seared where you touched him, but he made no show of it.

You outstretched your lithe legs, soft and enticing, over the bed, and crossed them at the ankles. At the movement, your white robe parted in the seams, revealing the supple flesh of your thigh, but you made no move to cover it. You simply lay there, still delectable with a kind of sweetness Ghost wanted to languidly lap at with his tongue.

So much so that the muscle now ached in his mouth.

He swore under his breath, his own legs shifting to distance his body from you. His booted feet, he dangled at the edge of the bed. He wasn't that barbaric.

"I thought you were the patient one," you chided, misreading his mood. In your fingers, you clutched some kind of a remote. It possessed two buttons. "Watch this."

You pressed the green one.

A soft whine reverberated from above, and then a portion of the sloped ceiling slid up to, inch by inch, reveal the thundering clouds in the sky.

Not many things had the power to surprise Ghost, but this... Well, suffice it to say, his jaw slightly slacked open.

Rain dazedly pelted the glassed frame, the droplets snaking down in rivulets, and distant strikes of lightning illuminated the cloudy world above, and in consequence, the dark room.

You dreamily sighed, sinking further into your pillows. You reached for the biscuits on his thighs.

Simon hadn't realized he'd placed them too close to his groin, and thought you went in for a different feeding, body abruptly tensing.

The faintest drop of your hand's weight on him had his throat contracting.

Subtly, he had the plate relocated to his abdomen. Much better.

"I had it installed when I moved in. It helps me sleep better at night. Oh, especially in such nights." You hummed out a chuckle and pointed. "Look at that cloud. Kind of looks like the head of a chihuahua, don't you think?"

Lightning crackled. The sky brightened in hues murky gray and electric blue - before plummeting into darkness.

He followed your finger, and released a contemplative sound. It was all he offered, but it seemed to be enough for you.

There was something about the sound of rain and your soft breathing that had Simon lulled to a cozy quiet. Snugged by the pillows, his weight sank deeper into the mattress, and he thought he was in a haven of your making.

This could put him dead out if it weren't for the tempting graze of your shoulder against his, forcing him awake ever time his lashes sluggishly fluttered shut.

You sipped your tea and reached for another biscuit.

Slowly, he lifted his own mask 'til his nose and watched, warily, if you'd sneak a peek. You did no such thing.

Ignoring the twitch in his brows, he bit into the biscuits. The tea smoothed them down his throat, and the warm nourishment felt good in his stomach.

All the while, you talked about your sweets and pastries, the corner shop you bought them from, and how it was your favorite with it having opened almost eighty years ago. And how he also should visit it once he gets the chance.

You finished your tea and placed the mug on your side of the nightstand. Brushing the crumbs from your fingers, you plopped back down, head on your pillows this time.

You still did not look at him.

Sober you seemed to have a few bit reservations than wasted you, it appeared, faintest traces of amusement pulling at the corners of his revealed lips.

Downing the rest of his tea, he put away the empty plate and mug to his side of the nightstand. With that, he masked his lips anew.

In the silence, the only sound the pouring rain, he dwelled in the dark with you.

Then, so softly, you said his name.

"Simon."

His breath hitched dead center in his chest. His eyes arrowed down at your lying figure.

You continued to look away, spiky lashes fanning delicate cheekbones.

"You can stay the night, if you want," you made out, swallowing tentatively and moistening your lips. With a tiny jump, you turned over - and finally tilted your face up to look him in the eyes. You cupped the underside of your cheek. "We don't have to do anything. Not that you - Not that you said you wanted to. I'm sorry. I only mean, it's late...and you must be tired." Then, oh, so gently, "Heard you had a long night, too."

Ghost remained silent for the duration of your speech, and at the last sentence, quirked a brow up. "Yeah? And who told you that?"

"Johnny," you murmured.

"Johnny," he echoed. A low crackling sound sizzled in his chest, but it dwindled out before ever reaching his throat. "You discuss me with Johnny, do ya now, poppy?"

Your eyes dropped from his masked face, and your fingers drew small circles into the pillow next to his.

"Sometimes, I do, yes." So effortlessly admitted. Fuck. "It was merely an evaluation of your person, is all. I could see it too. Your eyes are red. Bit groggy too."

He rasped out a low chuckle, if it could be called that, seeing as some sounds tended to get lost in the wide expanse of his chest. "That it, eh?"

A small smile crinkled the corner of your eye, and if he had a heart, he might've gone as far as to call you a darling right then and there.

You shrugged. "Yeah."

He ran the tip of his tongue against his teeth. Simon knew it was best he end the conversation now, rise from your bed, and exit your apartment. Your life. He got his proper thanks, after all.

But, like a damned fool he could only blame on his exhausted state, he stayed put - and probed further. "What else you bothered Johnny about me, mm?"

You licked your lips again, the tip of that tempestuous pink muscle wetting the seam, and he bit back a wanting grunt.

He'd never been more arrested by a mundane act.

Focus, soldier.

His eyes trailed the gentle curve of your jawline...and down your slender neck.

No, not there, you daft geezer. Away.

"Your mask," your tentative voice filled the room.

"What's wrong with it?"

Your soft hair rustled against the sheets as you shook your head. "Nothing. It's merely got something honest about it, is all. As paradoxical as that may seem, I realize now. It's pleasant."

Pleasant? That's a new one.

But he couldn't have you building false notions about him like that. Maybe it was time he warned you away for good.

"I have more blood on my hands than the one running in your veins, poppy. There is nothing honest about me," he coldly provided.

"Well, I think you're wrong."

Bloody hell, what would it take to dislodge you?

You moved, body climbing up the pillows until your head rested close to his shoulder. And then a little bit more, until you leveled with his face.

The sheer heat emanating from your skin traveled past his clothes, seeping into his pores.

Yeah, you were a darlin', all right. A damn appetizing one, at that.

You shifted slightly, weight on your left hip and bared legs so dangerously close to his.

Through the thick rim of your lashes, you regarded him. "Ghost," you said, and he nearly corrected you. "Would you like to know what else I discuss with Johnny?"

A burning sensation infiltrated his cheek, and he realized you were tracing your fingertips over his masked features. Carefully, cautiously, so as to not chase him away.

"For one, those pretty eyes of yours," you hummed lowly. On cue, you gently trailed a finger down his brow bone.

Heat speared his cheeks at that, and he was grateful for the coverage. Simon Riley, blushing. His lashes fluttered a bit, but other than that, you remained clueless as to his expression.

"And they change color every time I look upon you. Sometimes blue, sometimes silver, other times brown, like sweet caramel, and my favorite, pitch black. How do you do that?"

You studied him enough to have a favorite? At that revelation, his throat tightened.

Wordless, he performed a small, almost undiscernible, shrug, the pillows underneath shifting.

A slow, deep smile curved your cheeks. "You should let me study them in broad daylight. I'm sure I'll solve the mystery in no time." With a cheeky air, you booped the tip of his nose with your finger.

Quietly, he watched your face, coal-dark eyes intent and focused, the only sounds from him his steady breathing.

"God, they're so black." Tenderly, you ran your knuckles across his jawline, angled your head, and then softly guided his face closer to yours.

Once, someone had told him he had no present, past, or future, and he'd told them that he'd see them in hell. Now, Ghost realized hell was here, in the breath of a space between you, where you sat so close to him, and yet he could not close it.

"None of that, poppy." He nudged your hold off.

Disappointment colored your eyes, drooped your shoulders, and brought those pearl-white teeth to gnaw at your fleshly lower lip. And with so much bite, he spotted teeth marks form.

"Easy there," he murmured, fingers acting without his explicit permission and pinching your chin.

At that, the discouragement washed away and your eyes clouded with something dark and promising, putting the storm outside to shame. There you went again with that look. If his career in the Special Forces hadn't driven him mad, this surely would.

Understanding that he shouldn't have touched you, he made to move away, but your fingers wrapped around his wrist, keeping him close - and sliding your body closer.

The second your hip meshed against his, his muscles seized up, locking tight upon his bones.

God, you were hot against him. Burning up.

Simon nearly bolted from the bed when he felt your legs entangle with his, the blistering tension having unwittingly made away with much of his resolve and rendering him stimulated in places he'd rather not feel stimulated in.

Your toes teased his legs, rubbing up against the coarse material of his pants. Then, they glided over them, finding purchase in his inner calves - and massaging. Up, up, they traveled, then dooown they dropped, creating a spine-tingling friction.

Ghost grunted, shoulders bunching before undulating. He straightened a bit. Good God. He was suddenly too aware of his own body heating up and all his intimate areas. All too aware of his blood pumping and where it was rushing.

"You better stop that before you get hurt, yeah, darlin'?" he grated past his teeth.

You sighed, no doubt relishing in his deteriorating strength. "A little pain never hurt nobody. Isn't that right, Lieutenant?"

As you said that, you wedged your leg more firmly between his, parting them, and slid your knee upward to lightly grind it against his sensitive groin.

Christ. He grunted with less control now, the feeling slowly slipping through his fingers.

You shouldn't be using that kind of language with him. Shouldn't be talking in such a tone. Because addiction was another sin he didn't mind adding to the list.

His body sweltered from the inside and his heartbeat increased, beating in his ears. He had to leave.

Jerking slightly at another shiver inducing motion, he pushed at your leg.

A final, "No, poppy," scraped past his throat.

"Simon," you tugged at his wrist, voice hoarsely breaking at the end and so desperately, it nearly unmanned him, "I - I'm on fire. It hurts. It hurts so bad. Need... I need you. I can't stop. I don't know why I can't stop. I just - God, I've been needing you for so long now. Every night, I dream of you, do you know that? Every night. Please, please...I'm going insane. I'm - "

That did it.

With a ferocious snarl that was more animal than man, his arm shot forward, calloused fingers latching onto your cheeks and unchivalrously burying your head in your pillows with the abrupt maneuver of his body over yours.

His weight suffocated you into the mattress.

You gasped, eyes gaping wide in alarm.

His ire flared, his desire, even more so.

"Shut the fuck up," Ghost gritted in your face, now panting hot and fast. "Shut your fuckin' mouth now, poppy. Fuck. You ever heed a warning? You ever heard of using your own goddamn fingers? You ever use that pretty little head of yours? Bloody fucking hell, darlin'. Bloody. Fucking. Hell."

You squirmed under him, releasing small, breathless sounds.

The image of you rendered so helpless roused the most primal parts of him and his cock painfully hardened, straining against the strap of his pants.

It was blooming into an ache his hands alone wouldn't be able to assuage. Goddamit.

Your eyes searched his, arraying back and forth, attempting to grasp what just occurred within the span of a blink.

Then, they narrowed, pretty lashes fusing. "I have," you ground out, baring your teeth at him. "I do. But they're never enough." Fuck, you were talking about your fingers. You almost pouted insufferably. "Never what I want. Need. Crave."

"And I am?" he growled out, baring his own teeth. You seemed to like the intensity he exuded, even heatedly roamed your eyes over his masked lips, expression devoid of all fear.

You nodded eagerly.

Yes.

He cursed under his breath.

Lowly, lethally, "How hard did you hit that head of yours, mm?"

You bit your lips to suppress a moan, "Hard enough to get you in my bed."

"That mouth of yours is goin' to get you in trouble, poppy."

You keened at the warning. "Promise?"

At that, he couldn't will himself away even if he wanted to. Not even all the soldiers in his team combined could drag him away when you stared up at him so wantonly, so desperately, silently begging to make away with the terrible ache that shadowed over your every need.

So be it. You would learn your lesson.

"Open your legs," he growled - and slipped his hand underneath your robe.

an: i made it into 3 parts bcs, well, i just had too much fun writing ghost suffering in his self-imposed ✨ agonies ✨

suffice it to say, the next part will be pure filth. pinkie swear this time. strap your seatbelts, girlies, we’re going to the horniest, dirtiest bangtown.

on another note, if anyone is willing to chat/discuss fics relating to cod or any other fandom of their liking, I’ve created a new discord server and pinned it on my blog; all are more than welcome to join ✨

[mitsuyaya]

[ you can call me monster ] bachira meguru x fem! reader

♡ contains: 600+ words. MDNI, characters are all aged up, smut, vaginal sex, kinda mean! bachira, orgasm denial, slight dacryphilia, pet names (baby), unedited, lowercase intended.

♡ summary: you've always known bachira is a monster in the field but there's one more thing he's a monster at – in bed, that is.

♡ end note: hehe no excuse for this one &lt;3

bachira is a monster in the field.

you're a witness every time he transforms from a funny, docile boyfriend, into a cunning, starving beast waiting to score a goal. roaming the vast field in hopes to create a goal that could label him as the world's greatest striker.

everytime you see his figure shrouded with fiery silhouettes, eyes shifting into that of a terrifying predator, you could feel your chest swell with pride, proud that your boyfriend is doing what he loves.

and even if the magazines label him as a monster striker, you know that when it comes to you he isn't like that, he's nowhere near monster-like.

but that thought quickly dissipates the moment you both entered the bedroom. because just as bachira is a monster in the field, he's also a monster in bed.

“my girl’s really a whore for my dick huh?” he has you folded in half, legs hiked over his shoulders as he pulls out again, not giving you the satisfaction of cumming. he's always been like this.

“fuck, fuck bachi please lemme cum, i've been good.” there's tears cascading in your cheeks, dripping over the pillow beneath you.

bachira coos, as if consoling a little child, lowering himself as he licks the tears that falls in your pretty face and whispers “nah, don't wanna.”

he rises, sneering at your reaction before he pushes his fat cock inside you again, thrusting in out of you with sheer strength and speed that you couldn't keep up, making your eyes roll that you could almost feel that it's gonna pop out in your eye sockets any moment now.

“scream f’me baby, maybe I'll reconsider” you obeyed, a chorus of ‘bachi’ ‘meguru’ ‘fuck’ and ‘more’ bouncing in the walls of the room.

it spurs him even more, pistoning into your wet cunt even faster, lewd sounds of your essence squelching ringing in yours and his ears.

“bachira, please I'm gonna cum. please let me cum” you plead again, hoping that this time he'll give in, batting your eyelashes while clawing his arms that's gripping your hips.

he kept his rhythm while pondering, there's a glint in his eyes that made you think he's about to give in until he snorts, a mocking one, “why should I let you?”

bachira pulled out after the words left his lips, it made you whine from the loss of his cock inside you. but he was quick to shut you up when he pressed his lips into yours, biting your bottom lip as he devoured your mouth.

it was messy, just like it always does, sucking your tongue, leaving you wanting for more.

he keeps rubbing his cock into your folds, while he kisses you, the tip bumping into your clit makes you moan into his mouth. you could feel him smile through the kiss, pulling away with a saliva connecting both your lips.

bachira aligns his dick into your cunt, smiling at your awaiting gaze as he pushes forward with no warning.

he kept thrusting, in, out, in, out, his tempo doesn't waver, fucking you rapidly that it steals the air in your lungs, making you claw the sheets beneath you, screaming his name in pure ecstacy.

it doesn't take too long before your orgasm washes over you again, you're close, too close. “you wanna cum right? then cum f’me” just as he said those words, your vision turned white, toes curling as you released all over his cock, muttering a breathy ‘thank you.’

but even still, bachira didn't stop, even as you catch your breath from your orgasm, still keeping his pace.

you tried to push him away because you're too sensitive but it's futile, he's much stronger, bigger – it's no use.

bachira lowers himself, foreheads touching, there's a gleam in his eyes that struck something inside you, you recognize that look, it's bad, really really bad.

bachira grins sadistically, just like he always does whenever he thinks of a perfect goal in the field, you could only tremble in fear as he says, “we’re still not done yet, baby.”

[takumifujiwaraswfe]

HIIII :)) i saw that request were open! is it possible that i can request boyfriend headcannons for miyata from hajime no ippo !! , thank youu ^_^

(This boy does not have a single normal pic of his eyes I swear-)

Ichiro Miyata romantic headcanons

| PLAYLIST |(the first song is literally made for him)

(my fav Hajime No Ippo boy I waited for it. Sit comfortably it will be a long list)

You and Ichiro were classmates in high school. That's basically how you met, but you didn't talk to each other much before one... accident.

You always liked boxer boys. Who doesn't, duh? And well, your female friends found out and started shipping you with Miyata, as everyone knew that he is a boxer. Very hot one If I may add.

He found out about it and god it was awkward. He just stared at you.

But somehow you got yourself together to apologize him about your friends and that's how it all start.

You were walking from school together as you live near his boxing club. Except he ran few meters in front of you...

After few months you became really good friends. You were taking pictures of him sometimes as you were learning how to use your new polaroid. (( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°))

One day it was raining really hard and after his practice he went straight to your house. Your parents were shocked at the least but let him in.

You gave him a towel and started drying his hair off as he was changing his bandages on his knuckles as it were all wet. He said that you're paying off a debt of having polaroids of him lmao.

You were soooo ashamed.

And he just kissed you.

Pure shock.

After that you stood in silence. He was laying on your bed, reading a magazine and you were trying to do your homework to keep your mind away.

Your mom went to your room to ask you both if you want something to eat and oh god how hard it was for Ichiro to explain his diet to her so she wouldn't think that someone is starving him or something.

After that you just sighed and went over to lay next to her. You never said those words, but you are together. He calls you his girlfriend next to his friends in class after all.

He's the type of guy that won't fight for you when needed. He'll teach you how to fight for yourself and then help you.

The high school it couple hellooooooo

You started running with him after school. Holding hands.

Comes over to you after his trainings and then his dad picks him up after.

Now you can take pictures that show a little more of his daily work if you know what I mean.

Takes you to his matches when he can.

You're learning things on each other and how the fuck he makes out with you so good at first try?????

Literally you hid in your room to try and he's randomly a pro????

Will braid your hair.

If he goes out with his friends. He takes you. Always. No exceptions.

You'll be just walking through some weird places (yk teen meetup spots) in the middle of the night with his friends? He's holding your hand. Non stop.

Will take you to urbex. In the night. Without his friends.

Will also make out with you in random abandoned buildings cus why not

WHEN HE WEARS THESE SHORTS THESE SPORT SHORTS IDK HOW THEY'RE CALLED BUT THESE PLAIN SPORT MALE SHORTS THE ONES THAT ARE LIKE ABOVE KNEE LEANGHT HDSUJGFSDKF OMGGGGG (these are my addiction I had to do this I'm sorry but just legs in them...)

holds your hand in school so there's not really any boy hitting on you, but if there were one trust me it wouldn't be good.

Not really jealous type of guy but a 'I don't like someone touching what's mine' type.

Will talk shit on other people with you. I think he's a type of guy that would gossip, but only with his girlfriend because he thinks that friends can always leave.

trust issues but in other people not you. You're the only person he trusts.

Takes you to his family dinners.

The type of relationship that even your teachers know about.

He says that he will marry you and even if you won't want to he'll make you cause it's you or no one.

Let's you pick his outfits because he knows how much you love his body.

He loves it too, yours as well. That's why he won't even let you stand near other teens that try out smoking or alcohol. No exception.

You fight sometimes obviously. It's not rare and it's not oten.

Typically either cause he want's you to be healthy and you don't do stuff to be healthy or over some teenage drama. The second one is rare though as he's a little bit more mature than rest of people your age.

10/10 boyfriend. Would recommend. Want one myself.

These one wasn't that cute but I really love teens will be teens trope and doing kind of south park/wladcy moch kind of vibes so soz I ain't quitting that.

[mscordonean]

Mr. Ken? Stop calling me that.

You were modelling for the new KENTO® magazine when your boss, the CEO, Kento Nanami walks into the room, you were so invested in the cameras flashing and getting the perfect pose that you didn't hear him calling your name. He walks infront of you and you're right in line with his abs. You look up to see a very angry boss. "You answer me when I call you" "Sorry Mr. Ken". You put on your best pout face. "I have decided i am going to marry you". WHATTTT!? You were shocked beyond borders when he randomly popped the question. "So... No proposal? No ring?". "I will get you a ring later, right now we need to sign the papers", "No wedding? I don't accept then", he frowns at your statement. "What is the point?". He starts to walk away but you stop him. "Excuse me?" He turns around and stares at you as if you're stupid, he shakes his head. "We'll only be married for a year anyway". He then takes of with his secretary. It seemed like he only asked you to marry him for work purposes, but he asked you in particular! (the delulu is kicking in) This made you extremely happy for some reason but you weren't going to play easy.

Your back at your apartment you see a bunch of guys moving your stuff. You first instinct is to scream but then you spot Nanami. "What is the meaning of all this?" You complained to Nanami hoping he would get the guys to stop moving your stuff. "If you're going to be my wife, we are going to have to move in together so people don't get suspicious." "But i like my house, i can report you for trespassing" "Listen here lil lady, have you forgotten who i am? Not only am i your boss but your husband too, so I have every right to be in your house" Kento say in a deep tone making you shut up almost immediately as you watched your aesthetic house turn into nothing.

Kento insists he drive you to your new house. You didn't really care if it was a mansion because if it wasn't pink the moment you stepped in, you would have no choice but to run away. He was silent the whole time and you had no intention of talking to him either. "One year isn't that long" He finally spoke. You hesitate but reply "It's not that I don't want to marry you it's just that i need my own private space too." "I understand that and my mansion is big enough for you to have your own private space, you hungry?" "yeah, starved" you reply and he pulls into a mcdonald's drive thru. "Hello, what would you like to order" a female voice came from the 'put your order in' machine. "I would like a big mac meal and for my wife.." Kento looks over to you. "a mcspicy meal and a raspberry kitkat mcflurry, please" "alright that would be £15.78 please." After getting the food Kento hands you to mcdonald's bag and he stops in the car park. After you got your things out, he takes the bag and starts stuffing his face with the big mac. You giggle and he turns to you "What?" "You eat just like any other man, i thought you'd have more manners" you might have laugh too hard as Kento starts to slow down his chewing. "it's okay Mr. Ken, it means you and i can be more comfortable eating together". He puts on an expression that seemed somewhat like a smile and starts to speak. "Mr. Ken? Stop calling me that, I'm your husband now."

(when you get to you guys' new home he makes you sign the marriage papers)

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls-Episode 3x9, Deep Fried Korean Thanksgiving, Part II

LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU! NINJA MARIANO ATTACK! The Pea Soup Vomit coat makes its triumphant return (and possibly its last appearance?) In the spirit of Thanksgiving, perhaps he will return it to the Savlation Army reject dumpster from whence it came, to beclothe another down on his luck Victorian orphan.

It's never too early for some good old fashioned public macking.

Rory Gilmore, World Class Public Macking Self Saboteur: But but but...what about Dean?! If anyone wonders why I often go weeks without updating these things (and I'm sure this is something that keeps you all awake at night)... I've been stuck writing this piece for over two weeks because I plum ran out of new and novel ways to complain about this idiot in the red coat's continued preoccupation with Dean. Like, how many times can I say I want to smack her over the head with a rolled up newspaper like a disobedient dog? You're killing me here girl.

Rory, you're a dumbass. And also you're frigid. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, you should put out and let Jess stuff you. One of your legs is Thanskgiving and the other leg is Christmas and you should let him spend time between the holidays. I know having to look at the pea-soup-vomit coat is probably putting a damper on your libido, but you can take it off of him, I promise he won't mind. He's quite touch starved, that boy.

You wish, pal. Seeing as there's no high speed internet, premium cable porn, or dirty magazines to be found anywhere in Stars Hollow, a little street show might provide some tittilation to the sexually constipated residents of The Hollow. R: Yeah, you know, in the the street...with people watching... J: Go on...

Wow, this screen shot is a real beaut. Look at this gorgeous curly man. Someone should give me a gold medal in pressing the little button on the browser extension that takes screen shots for me, an award that is both real and possible to achieve. Shout out to GoFullPage. Why is his collar popped up so damn high? Is he trying to protect his neck from vampires?

R: We shouldn't flaunt it. J: But I want to flaunt it. R: It doesn't feel right. J: He's a big boy, Rory. It's not the first time a couple has broken up. R:It is for us. J: This is insane. Edit: Thank you @ernestonlysayslovelythings for reminding me that Rory is claiming she doesn't know how to manage her first breakup when Dean The Clod had actually dumped her twice by this point. She should maybe go and eat two beach pails of Ben and Jerry's ice cream over it again if the wound is still that raw.

WHAT doesn't feel right, Rory? Kissing your own boyfriend? Not that I'm unhappy you kinda sabotaged your relationship with Dean in order to get with Jess, but you did kinda sabotage your relationship with Dean to get with Jess. Now that you have him you're treating him like a collectible beanie baby, puttng him under glass and refusing to remove his little tag. Take him out. Play with him. Rough him up a little. Bring him to show and tell. Put him through the wash. For goodness sake.

Narrator: And they would never experience a single moment of comfort together ever.

By the time Millennials like me and Jess and Rory here are old enough to qualify for social security, there will be nothing left. So, yeah, never.

Me, outloud: Girl you are demented. Oh Rory, I don't know what you're so worked up about. I mean, what's Dean gonna do if he sees his ex girlfriend kissing someone else? Stalk her new boyfriend in an alleyway late at night and call him The Glad Man? Pshaw.

Narrator: Things did not get better over time. In fact, they got much, much worse.

ARRRRGH.

[myfandomrealitea]

Honestly I'm getting really tired of how people treat celebrities.

People act like they're circus animals that exist solely to dance for their entertainment, and that being a celebrity means they don't deserve to have any boundaries or dignity or privacy.

Like I always see posts going "Oh boo hoo people are being mean to the poor celebrity, maybe they can wipe away their tears with their money while the rest of us starve :(" and it's like what the fuck are you talking about.

Them being famous and having a lot of money (although a lot of celebrities aren't actually super rich, which no one ever wants to acknowlege) doesn't give people the right to treat them the way they do.

Being rich means nothing if people are stalking you and breaking into your house and sending you unhinged love letters.

Being rich means nothing if people are taking pictures of your fucking children so they can sell the pictures to magazines.

Being rich means nothing if people are following you every time you're in public (or even in private!) so they can try and take a picture of you doing something embarassing or scandalous.

I'm honestly surprised there aren't more cases of celebrities having mental breakdowns and losing their shit due to the amount of harassment, stalking, and invasion of privacy they face.

Leave these goddamn people alone for fuck's sake.

I always see people saying:

"Its what you sign up for when you become famous."

And I just. No. So much no. No?? Non??? Nada.

Like yes when you're famous a certain amount of your privacy erodes because you become a public figure. Its in the name. But the way celebrities are literally treated like nothing more than creatures that exist for us to consume and observe and dictate and judge is fucking insane. We learned nothing from Britney Spears, apparently.

Celebrities have become such a disconnected reality from 'general living' that we are so fucking out of touch with the fact that they're literally just human beings. Eminem made a song about it and people just laughed it off as a great musical plotline and 'haha funny Stan lets turn it into fandom culture slang.' One Direction had to hide in unmarked trade vans and book out entire airports (which then got hacked) just to try to travel without getting mobbed. Toby Maguire got branded as 'rude and aggressive' for yelling at paparazzi who literally surrounded his car and blocked him from leaving a car park so they could take photos of him.

Celebrities should not have to take out contracts and protection orders and press gags just so they can raise their children in peace or take them on a fucking walk. Celebrities should not have to cover tattoos honoring their dead mother because some clown who thinks it'll turn into a Y/N moments replicates it without any care for its actual meaning. Celebrity nudes and sex tapes get hacked and leaked and the celebrity is simultaneously blamed for it and sexualised to absolute hell for it.

"Sources" are constantly selling-literally selling- private information about people and their lives and families and its just?? Considered so fucking normal?? Imagine having a miscarriage and finding out three days later that your co-worker sold that information to a news outlet and its now front-page news globally?

Imagine organising a secret, small wedding so you can have that special day with the person you love without it being ruined and you find out the fucking priest told the Daily Mail it was happening so your special day consists of hoards of photographers yelling at you while you try to speak your vows?

Honestly I believe we do need stricter regulations and laws regarding this kind of thing. I firmly believe in the freedom of photography in public spaces but I also firmly believe that should absolutely not cover paparazzi literally stalking people, mobbing them, blocking them in alleyways and parking lots, using telescopic lenses to take photographs inside their houses, ect. It simply shouldn't.

People need to start imagining themselves and their family members in these types of situations and recognise that its fucking inhumane.