#he needs the brownies point

[lucabyte]

transfem loop + siffrin... you agree

i does agree.... i does in fact ... write a 7k word essay on the subject..... if you would like to perhaps click that link and read it if you were not already aware...... kisses u on the forehead......... sorry its that long but i had to cover all of my bases you know how it is with textual analysis when you're trying to draw a distinction between "headcanon" and "reading of the text" because those are different things.... to meeeeeeee.......

[galactic-rhea]

Thoughts on Padmé x Anakin x Rex?

Padmé and Anakin are so mutually obssesed they would first have to check into that before trying to bring another person to their carefully-balanced-kind-of-damage or something it's going to explode.

Honestly it's a fun ship! But I don't have too many thoughts about them because when I consider them is usually in very low-stakes-fun-AU-scenarios.

And I'm actually a bit of a fan of Rexwalker myself! Athough I tend to like them more as very good buddies, the covering-for-you-dynamic it's so funny for them, lol It's also angsty and complicated because, y'know, the power-imbalance and unchecked trauma? Is funny that the clone that's actually a slave for the republic is the most normal if you bring him into the anidala romance circus.

Also shout out to @phoenixyfriend , she has a lot of rexanidala fics and recs for anyone interested reading this!

[goldentigerfestival]

So. I love this. The way Yuri snickers at Flynn showing his real self. The way he, without hesitation, says "yeah" to the idea that he would die in Flynn's place.

But the most important part of this entire thing, which was changed in the dub, is how Yuri specifically jokes that Flynn is trying to abandon him, and Flynn returns and tells Don he had no intention of abandoning Yuri.

Yuri does not hear this. Flynn knows that. But Flynn uses the exact same term Yuri used earlier, as if it's his answer to Yuri and saying no, I would never abandon you.

For reference:

Personally I just... love the weight of it. How Flynn will say something about Yuri that Yuri won't hear, but he still speaks it out into existence because it's how he really feels.

Just because Yuri won't hear it doesn't mean he won't say it, and in a way that's even more powerful. He's not looking for the credit of saying it. He's not looking to be recognized for saying it. He's not only expressing how he feels about Yuri somewhere that Yuri himself will hear him.

They're just his real, honest feelings, and he'll admit them even if Yuri's not within earshot.

[punkeropercyjackson]

Hobie Brown is a Percy Jackson Variant i know that's right besties💙💙💙

[sevenhundred721]

I know that film analysis on YouTube has always been pretty bad, but I'm irked that one of the big trends for obnoxious hack YouTubers right now is to find a bad movie and then show a bunch of clips while doing the worst and most shallow observational comedy. There are a few YouTubers who do a lot of interesting or funny reviews of poorly made movies, but you can tell with them that they actually care about the art of film making. They pay attention to the plot and don't misrepresent how bad the movie is because they paid enough attention to have something clever to say. I love movie reviews and I enjoy videos that exist to make a bunch of observational jokes about movies. Which is why I'm upset that a million of the unfunniest and least creative people in the world are jumping on the bandwagon and clogging my recommendations. There's no passion in it. You can feel the cynicism oozing from this kind of video within seconds of it starting. I hate it.

[social-mockingbird]

It is late enough that I am willing to argue that when Oberon put the love potion on Titania’s eyes he turned her into a succubus no I will not explain myself

[jewishbarbies]

the thing i don’t understand about disney’s buzzfeed changes to the songs to add consent is like…the whole point is Ariel pursuing Eric? why does SHE need to give consent when it’s her trying to get HIM to kiss her? “kiss the girl” is literally Sebastian trying to convince Eric to kiss her because she’s trying to get him to kiss her. like??? how do you get Eric possibly taking advantage of Ariel out of that scene? Eric should be the one giving consent. how do you get him possibly taking advantage of her at all when he’s literally NOT into her until the end?? no child is watching the little mermaid and thinking rape and assault are okay, because the whole time Ariel was the one pursuing him. that perceived possibility is not anywhere near the original story and it’s perspective. it’s mind boggling.

(also it figures they would add the possibility of rape to an innocent story like this, written originally by a man about his unrequited love for another man.)

[luckyyyduckyyy]

The multiple hashtags of pure keyboard smashing evokes so much positive emotion in me-

[brainfullofbees]

.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC De-Aged Triplets and Their Tired Single Sister

Jason has seen the four of them a couple of times in Crime Alley now. They looked like a family, what with similar facial features- err, actually, the kids looked like carbon copies of each other, but their mom/sister/aunt/cousin looked similar enough to be related to them by blood.

Normally, Jason didn't care for each and every family that moved into Crime Alley. Sure, he cared about all of them as a whole, but there were a lot of people, and he couldn't possibly get elbow deep in every life story he came across. So all he knew about them were three things: a) they were on the run from someone or something, b) they trusted each other and no one else, and c) apparently, they have made it their life goal to never make any kind of sense.

The list of shit they have gotten into included but was not limited to:

• one of the kids biting a gun. Not the hand of the attacker who was holding it, no, the actual gun. And he bit a piece of it clean off, which earned him - or her, actually, Jason knew one of the triplets was a girl but he couldn't tell them apart - a lecture from their... mom? sister? parental figure. The lecture was about how chewing metal does not help with iron deficiency.

• getting kidnapped and creeping out their kidnapper to the point of him returning the kids back home. A few witnesses said one of the kids was actually driving, sitting on the kidnappers lap behind the steering wheel and cheerfully commanding the man to speed up or brake. Their mom actually apologized to the kidnapper for the incident and offered him homemade cookies for his troubles. He ran away without them.

• driving a lady at the laundromat insane by repeatedly walking inside and climbing into one of the washing machines. They never got out of it, just one kid walking into the laundromat, climbing into washing machine, then another kid, looking exactly like the previous one, walking inside, climbing into the same washing machine, then another kid walking into the laundromat- well, you get the idea. The lady claimed she's seen at least five kids do that in a row, but when she looked into that washing machine, there was no one inside.

• casually falling out of windows. Or, better, walking out of them like they were doors, at any given opportunity. The witness - an old man who was helping their mom with groceries - said the mom did not care in the slightest, and when he asked her about it, obviously concerned, she just said, tired and exasperated, 'they like the feeling of free fall, don't worry, they'll come back in a minute'. Sure enough, they did, not a scratch on them. The family lived on the sixth floor.

• eating insane amounts of food. Jason personally witnesses their mom give them her wallet, telling the kids, 'eat until you're full', and promptly passing out on the table, her head on her arms. The kids then proceeded to eat four whole pizzas, three burgers each, then seven brownies and at least five cups of soda. What was interesting about it was not only the amount of food they ate but the way they never left their mom unattended, one of the kids always staying beside her sleeping figure as the other two went to order.

And now, all four of them were standing in front of him. Not Jason Todd him, but Red Hood him. And he was... confused.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said, can you watch them for a few hours? Three, maybe four," the mom, Jazz as she introduced herself, was looking at him like it was he who was speaking nonsense, not her. Because asking a crime lord to watch three kids in the middle of the night is not something a sane person would do.

"Why?" He asks, bewildered, because what the fuck else is he supposed to say?

"I need to kill a man, and if they come with me, it will take three times longer," Jazz tells him. Is she saying the kids slow her down or what? Jason can admit he's never been this confused in his entire life.

"You could ask me to kill a man, while you stay with them, no?" He tries to reason, but the girl waves him off:

"No, that will take even longer. Besides, no offense, but you kill people to simply end their life, and I need that man to fucking stop existing forever."

What's the difference he almost wants to ask. But instead of that, he just sighs.

"Why me? I'm sure you could find a babysitter-"

"No babysitter will handle them. The last one told me they have been running laps on the ceiling, which is, actually, not that big of a deal. They are kids. Kids like running around," she huffs, and Jason suspects she is missing the point here, but okay. He gets why babysitters are not an option.

"You do understand what they can witness if they stay here?" He asks, as the last attempt to reason with the girl, but she just nods and leans down, making all the kids turn to her.

"Okay, you menaces, tell me what not to do while you're staying with Mr. Red Hood."

"No eating people," one kid starts.

"No driving people insane," the other one continues.

"No, um, stealing eyeballs," the third one finishes, and what the fuck are those ground rules? Is this girl a mother to eldrith horrors? That would explain some shit.

Jazz turns to him, "See? They're all good."

In what world is that good? Jason debates if he should start running now or when she leaves.

"Do they have names?" He asks instead. The girl nods:

"Danny." His surprise must be evident even through the mask because she sighs and points to each kid, "Diane, Daniel, Dante. Dani, Danny, and Dan. Actually, you know what, let's make this easier," she rummages through her bag and gets a marker out before gesturing to the kids, "Come here."

As they do, she proceeds to draw numbers 1, 2, and 3 on their foreheads. Then she nods to Hood and puts the marker away.

"Okay, that's better. Behave, you monsters, I'll be back soon!"

After she leaves, Jason looks down at the kids. They also look at him, eerie and unblinking.

Finally, one of them - number 2, Dani, if he is not mistaken - asks:

"Do you want teeth? We have a lot."

"She doesn't mean her teeth," number 1 clarifies, "She means other teeth."

...This is going to be some very long three hours.

[moremaybank]

PROMISE ME , rafe cameron

── KINKTOBER: THIGH RIDING

"you stay with me, 'cause nobody fuck you better." — kiana ledé, promise me.

rafe cameron x bsf!reader

(18+) thigh riding, dirty talk, slight nipple play

cheating on your boyfriend is so wrong, but rafe makes it feel so right

KINKTOBER , OBX MASTERLIST

"back already, huh? thought i gave it to you good this morning?"

you shoved his tall figure backward, watching hims tumble back a few steps closer to the foot of his bed. "shut up. take your clothes off."

you pulled your shirt up and over your head, tossing it onto the floor without a second thought. you were halway through tugging your shorts down when you noticed that rafe hadn't moved a muscle. he was just standing there with that stupid, obnoxious smirk he wore all the damn time. his buff arms were crossed over his chest, and his tongue poked out to wet his lips.

you arched a brow, halting your movements. "what?"

"no. please?" he took a step closer to you. "like, 'm i jus a sex doll to you or somethin'? or...wait, wait— lemme guess. he's small. he can't hit that spot that makes you go all dumb, huh? s’okay, princess. you can tell me."

classic. always so desperate to bring up your boyfriend when you were clearly in search of what he couldn't give you. what he knew he could give you. maybe he just liked the reminder that you still needed him. no, he definitely liked it.

"just take your clothes off, rafe."

all he could do was let out a chuckle, shaking his head in exasperation as he shrugged his shirt off. he let you shove at his chest again, willingly falling back onto his bed. he rose up onto his elbows, watching you climb on top of him and settle in a straddle in his lap. you reached for his belt buckle, nimble fingers working at it swfitly to free his cock.

"you should've taken this shit off," you complained, yanking down his zipper extra harshly to to show your annoyance.

"think you're gettin' too brave wi'me."

"then do something about it instead of talking my damn ear off."

his hand gripped your throat, tightening and cutting off your air supply just slightly as he drew you closer to his face. "watch it, a'ight? you want somethin' from me, then you gotta goddamn ask for it. nicely. you don't jus' storm in here 'n start makin' demands." his warm breath fanned over your cupid's bow when he spoke, and his eyes didn't leave yours. "what'd i teach you, huh? what d'you need?"

he knew what you needed. why else would you have driven yourself over to tannyhill in the middle of the night? and why else would your heated cunt be throbbing in his lap?

if he had to guess, he'd say you were already wet.

needy girl.

he also knew that when he put his foot down, you'd immediately fall into line because that's how bad he'd gotten you hooked. you could throw your little tantrums all you wanted, 'casue in the end, you'd still end up following his every word and instruction just to hear a simple good girl fall from his lips.

"need your cock, daddy."

he tilted his head expectantly, clearly not satisfied. "you forgettin' somethin'?"

your shoulders sagged. "please, daddy? been thinkin' about you all day. need you." you hated how quickly the words flew out of your mouth. but still, you sulked at him, knowing it would earn you some brownie points. rafe had always had a thing for that innocent look you reserved only for him.

rafe thumbed at your lower lip. "see? was that so hard?" his hand released your throat, and trailed down your sternum. his fingers dipped behind the middle part of your bra, and he pulled at it. "y'wanna take this off f'me?"

you nodded, your hands reaching behind your back in an instant to unhook your bra. you let it fall to the floor, before turning back to rafe. his hands slid up your body until he was cupping your breasts in both hands. his warmth elicited goosebumps all over your flesh, and you shivered. your nipples perked up underneath his touch and he was quick to start rolling them between his fingers. 

you released a sigh of relief, feeling like your world has snapped back into focus now that he was touching you. your hands found his shoulders, and you held onto them as a reminder that he was really there.

rafe's heated touch travelled down to the top of your panties, letting his hand cup your pussy over the flimsy lace of your underwear. his blue eyes peered up at yours. "you fuck him today, doll?"

you shook your head desperately, rolling your hips against the heel of his palm pitifully. all you wanted was one taste of pleasure, and yet, he was still being difficult.

as always.

"no? why not? but he didn't wait for your response. instead, he answered his own question for you. "'cause you know i'm better."

you couldn't bring yourself to answer. all you could think about was how close his fingers were getting to your dripping entrance. it was already spasming as it awaited intrusion. but he grabbed a hold of your face, forcing you to open your eyes and obey him.

"say it," he demanded. "say i'm better."

"you're better, daddy."

"fuckin' love it when you call me that, baby. but i can't jus' let you get what you want, can i?" he bit into his lower lip, staring a hole into your perfect mouth. his wide palms curled around your hips, and he eased you onto one of his thighs. he used his hold on you to guide you back and forth against the tough muscle. you faltered slightly at the pressure against your hungry bundle of nerves. "need you to show me how bad you want it."

"but, rafe─"

"shh," he said, placing the pad of your index finger against your lips to shut you up. "want you to cum once before i fuck you."

"what? why?" you questioned, confusion clear on your face. why wasn't he jumping on the chance to fuck you like he usually did?

"'cause i'm tryna remind you that i don't even need to touch you to make you cum."

it was nearly infuriating, the way things like that could just roll off his tongue so naturally. like he didn't know how much they really pricked at your skin and made your heart jackhammer in your chest. now this would go on to haunt you forever ─ the thought that rafe would bring you to such a heavenly release without laying a single finger on you. meanwhile, your boyfriend was doing a lousy job at arousing you.

"so, you gonna be good for me or what?" his fingers tapped at your hipbones as he awaited your reply.

but what else could you do besides follow his every command like he was some sort of god?

you started to move, gyrating your hips against the tough ripples of muscle. you couldn't stop the whimper from falling past your lips when the consistent pleasure thrummed inside you. you could feel rafe's scorching gaze on you, watching every single twitch and quiver in your expressions as you quelled the hunger your cunt felt in his absence.

"my obedient girl," he spoke lowly, lust threading through his voice. "you're so fuckin' good for me. makes me wonder why you even bother with that asshole."

"rafe, don't," you warned. he knew that despite your actions, you constantly carried the guilt of cheating atop your shoulders. you didn't need the reminder, especially when you were so desperate to drown in him, in your escape.

"why not, huh?" he leaned into the crook of your neck, teeth grazing down the length of it until he reached your collarbone. he sucked on it, nipping at the flesh and revelling in the noise that leaves your lips. "'cause that pussy gets wet at the thought of betrayin' him, right?"

"rafe, shut up─"

but then his fingers forced themselves into your mouth, effectively gagging you and leaving you babbling around them. the low drawl in his voice weakened your knees when he spoke, "don't gotta deny it, doll."

he started to bounce his knee in time with your movements, and you cried out as the pleasure spiked, already nearing release due to his filthy mind. "even when you find someone, you come back 'n fuck me. you cum for me." he snickered evilly, "this pussy knows what she wants. stop fightin' her on it."

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Ghost Eater

Summary: You don't like exorcists. They don't much like you either.

-----

You’d always thought big restaurants like the Brownie Industry only did well in small, midwestern towns like the one you came from. A year working in LA has taught you that, no matter where you go, people will always love garlic bread and sugar.

It’s your day off which means you’re pulling a double shift. You haven’t had time to wash your hair for the past two weeks so it’s frizzing out of your claw clip and flying wild around your face. The lighting is so dim that you’ve tripped over two black purses already, luckily not while you’re running food. The big dining room sounds like an apiary with the tittering laughter of the later adult crowd that’s filtered in from the theater across the four lane road. The main difference between the Brownie Industry here and the one back home is size. The ceiling soars overhead, supported by a series of concrete pillars separating the dining area into three sections.

Normally it would be three servers per section. Today, it’s just you in yours.

One more hour. That’s what the manager promised you. It might even be true if the host stand quits seating you after the table you’re approaching.

There are three people at the table. A woman whose hair might be light blonde or gray in the light of day, her eyes light and piercing. Her face is soft from age, emphasized by the tight, lace collar of her off-season sweater. She reminds you strongly of your mom’s nemesis on the HOA board. The man couldn’t be more out of place next to her despite their equivalent age. He’s wearing a leather jacket �� again, it’s not cold here – and a Norwegian metal shirt underneath. His hair is definitely white, so white it almost glows. He’s frowning at the teenager across the table as if she’s touched his motorcycle without permission.

The teenager might be the first you’ve seen all night who doesn’t have their phone out. She’s decked out in what you consider grandma florals – a t-shirt scattered with daisy chains, a bucket hat made out of nana’s carpet bag, and a hand-crocheted scarf in pastel.  You can’t really see her face under the shadow of her hat and there’s an odd, blurred quality to the way she fiddles with her napkin. You let your eyes skip past her and back to the two adults. Teenagers don’t pay the bill.

“Welcome to Brownie Industry!” you chirp. You’re sweaty and red but the faded yellow light hides that. You’re a service industry pro so none of your exhaustion shows on your face when you ask, “Is this your first-time dining with us?”

If you weren’t so burned out, you’d have noticed before you introduced yourself.

“Are you Grady?” the woman asks. Her voice is more posh than you expected even with her lace collar. “Grady Pace?”

Fuck. There’s a noticeable temperature differential now that you’re close to them. The restaurant is warm from the number of bodies, maybe even warmer than the summer air outside, but stepping up next to their table feels like walking into an ice rink.

“I’m your waitress,” you say. You don’t have time for this conversation. You’ve got five minutes in your cycle to take their order and then you’ve got food to run. “If you need any other services from me, I have a website.”

“We messaged you,” the man says. His lips thin to the point his thick mustache covers them entirely. “You never responded.”

Because you’ve been making more money at the Brownie Industry than your other job. “I’ll take a look at it tonight.”

“Wait,” the teenager says, sitting upright. She looks from you to the adults and back again. When she smiles, there’s no humor in it. “This is why we drove eight hours to have dinner at the Brownie Industry? For her?”

“Katie, be polite—”

“I’m sorry,” Katie says, “It’s just—I found a priest, you know? An actual exorcist priest and you guys want to trust a waitress over him?”

“Ugh exorcists,” you say. The memory of sour cabbage is so heavy on your tongue that you stick your tongue out in disgust. When you see Katie’s look, you backtrack. “Effective! Definitely effective.”

“Your mistakes have cost us too much already,” the man says, shaking a finger at her. “We are not converting just for an exorcism.”

“I normally don’t agree with your father,” the woman tells Katie, “but in this case I would like to leave conversion as a last resort.”

“We wouldn’t actually convert,” Katie says, rolling her eyes.

“Pretty sure exorcists can tell when you lie,” you tell Katie. When her scowl deepens, you clear your throat. “Did you all need another minute to think about the menu?”

“We need you to help us,” the dad says. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Look, I know you’re at work and I’m sorry we’re bothering you.”

“We’re desperate,” the mom says. She reaches for her purse. “We’ll pay you. Triple the rate on your website or even quadruple. We need that thing gone by tonight.”

Katie covers her face. “Mom. You’re embarrassing me. Terry isn’t that bad.”

“Oh, he’s bad, young lady,” the dad says sternly. “A bad influence.”

“We caught her trying to perform another séance yesterday,” the mom confesses to you. She leans forward with a pinched expression. “So Terry’s friend Larry could visit too.”

“Interesting,” you say. The food bell rings, but you think you can ignore it for another minute. You study Katie’s blush. “Why did you do that?”

If she was being compelled, she won’t have an answer to your question. You’ve dealt with a lot of ghosts in your time, but so few are sentient enough – or powerful enough – for compulsion.

“Go on,” the dad says, gesturing at you. “Tell her.”

“Leroy, she’s embarrassed enough,” the mom says.

“No, she’s not, Sarah.” The dad – Leroy – gestures to you again. “Tell her.”

Katie huffs, clearly resistant. But when her dad huffs back, she caves. “So,” she says, “I have this YouTube channel—”

“I’m off in an hour,” you interrupt. You don’t care that you’re being rude. Your patience ran out as soon as she said YouTube. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.” You turn to go.

“A moment!” Sarah shakes out her menu. “How’s the nicoise salad?”

Of course they’re going to order. They’d better tip too if they want you to help them with their ghost problem.

----.

“You said an hour,” mom Sarah says when you leave out the employee entrance. She’s shivering next to her daughter. Leroy is off smoking behind his motorcycle, parked next to the Tesla Katie is leaning on, but he stubs out his cigarette on the asphalt when you walk up. “It’s been two.”

“I had side work,” you say instead of it would have been one if not for you. You rub your bare arms when the familiar ghost chill washes over you. You want nothing more than to go home and wash the scent of garlic and brownie batter out of your hair. “Was there something wrong with my service?”

“No?”

You try to make your voice light. “I see.”

Sarah frowns at your tone anyway. “Why?”

“You tipped five dollars.”

Katie jolts like a scalded cat. “Mom!”

Leroy scrubs a hand over his face. “Sarah…”

“What?” Sarah throws up her hands. The parking lot lights catch on her Swarovski charm bracelet. “I tipped!”

“Like ten percent,” Katie says. She pulls her bucket hat over her eyes for a beat and then peeks at you from under it. “I’m so sorry. It’s not you, she’s always like this.”

“It was actually a six percent tip,” you say. You’re getting a clearer picture of this little family now. It’s becoming more and more understandable why Katie might have started summoning ghosts. “If you want to be precise.”

Leroy reaches for his back pocket. “Let me.”

Sarah swats at his hand. “We’re about to pay her a lot more than that!”

“For a completely separate job,” Leroy says. He pulls a twenty from his wallet and hands it to you with a grimace. “Sorry, Grady, I should’ve checked.”

“You should’ve paid if you cared so much,” Sarah retorts. She folds her arms over her chest. She taps her cheek and widens her eyes. “Oh wait… you never pay.”

“Sure,” Leroy says. This time it’s his turn to throw his hands in the air. “Sure, Sarah. I don’t pay for anything to do with our daughter’s private school or her dance classes or her health insurance—”

“If the court hadn’t mandated—”

“You make twice as much as me—"

“Guys!” Katie says loudly. Her mouth is a thin line of upset when she says, “Argue about what an expensive burden I am later when we don’t have an audience, okay?”

Her parents speak at the same time.

“You’re twisting my words,” Sarah says. “I never said—"

“Sweetie, you’re not a burden—”

“Can you just get this ghost out of me?” Katie asks you. She goes for nonchalance and falls short. “My parents haven’t been in the same room for the last five years for a reason.” She fakes whispering. “They don’t play nicely with others.”

Sarah bristles. “Katie.”

“God, I know how that is,” you say. The whole interaction is giving you the worst case of sympathy for Katie. Before her parents can say anything else, you change the subject. “How long have you been haunted?”

“Six months,” Katie says. She fiddles with her bucket hat so that you can see her eyes for the first time. They’re brown, like her dad’s, and have heavy bruises underneath. She shrugs. “They only noticed a month ago though.”

“I noticed your behavior had changed,” Sarah defends. Like her daughter, she fidgets. She plays with her bracelet and clears her throat. “I thought it was a teenage thing.”

“What signs did you notice first?” you ask the parents. They glance at each other and then away.

“Let’s just say we noticed different things,” Leroy says dryly. He pulls out his phone.

“Moodiness,” Sarah says. She ticks them off on her fingers. “Laziness. Disrespect. Over-sleeping.”

“Those are just teenager things,” Katie says with an astounding level of self awareness. She shrugs. “I’m a senior now. They’re lucky it didn’t start sooner.”

“I,” Leroy says, “noticed this.” He turns his phone towards you.

“Ah,” Sarah says, “Yes. That.”

You examine the picture. It’s of Katie on a small dirt bike. She’s wearing a helmet in the picture, but you recognize the fashion sense in the floral boots she’s wearing. The scene behind her is of the hills, low scrub brush recognizable to someone who’s lived in LA for the past five years. On the bike behind her is a smudge. It could be a cloud of dirt blown into frame or maybe a camera glitch. It could be if it weren’t for the leering face emerging from the cloud right behind her head.

“I just want to say I did not agree to getting her a motorcycle,” Sarah says.

“Mom, not the point,” Katie says.

“Look how close that creep is to my daughter,” Leroy says. He jabs a finger at Katie’s waist in the photo where you can see a ghostly hand. “I want him gone.”

“Dad, he didn’t mean anything by it!” Katie turns to you earnestly. “Terry never rode a bike before and I thought, like, what if he moved on after he got a chance to? It was a philanthropic effort!”

“Plant a tree if you want to be a philanthropist,” Leroy growls. “I want this guy away from my daughter.”

“He doesn’t mean any harm really,” Katie says. “He would move on if he could! He says he’s stuck to me because of how I summoned him. He’s like, really sorry. He even spelled out Sorry in the bathroom mirror once.”

“What,” Sarah says in a dangerous voice, “was Terry doing in the bathroom with you, Katie?”

Katie splutters. “Mom, don’t be gross!”

The family descends into bickering. You have heard about ghosts being stuck to a person before, but usually that’s when the person has some sort of psychic powers. Katie’s wearing crystal in her ears, but they aren’t charged. She might develop some talent later in life, but right now she’s a normal girl.

The parking lost is nearly empty now. You recognize a few employee cars, but very few customers. The kitchen will be cleaning for another half hour before they’re ready to go home.  The reality is that, if Terry is stuck, you might not be the best way to handle the situation. If he’s not…

Well.

It’s time to talk to Terry.

Opening your ghost sense is hard to describe. Some psychics liken it to a third eye, right in the middle of their forehead. You’ve always thought that sounded really cool like maybe the world gets cast in a blue hue when they do it and the dead appear like they do in movies. You’ve met other psychics who say it’s like a sixth sense. They know where the ghost is and it’s like they download all that information until their minds can just sort of conjure their image.

For you, it’s like letting your body remember it has a second mouth. Cats have an extra sensory organ on the roof of their mouth that lets them detect scents better. Your second mouth is a bit like that. You can still smell brownies and garlic and the city air of LA, but you can also smell/taste something else.

Something like…pepper?

Your eyes water and you sneeze so viciously that your eyes close. When you open them again, four people are staring at you in surprise.

“Gesundheit,” Leroy says.

“You sneeze like Dad does,” Katie says.

“Did no one ever teach you to cover your mouth?” Sarah asks in disgust.

“I wish you would’ve sneezed on her,” Terry says, nodding to Sarah. “She’s such a bitch.”

“Thank you for the commentary, everyone,” you say. You wipe your nose with the collar of your shirt as you consider Terry. It’s dirty anyway. “Terry. Interesting name for a ghost.”

Terry hasn’t noticed that you can see him yet. He’s floating behind Katie, one arm casually flung over her shoulder. It’s hard to place when he died based on his appearance alone. His hair is chin length, emphasizing the width of his jaw. Squire cuts have been popular for several decades and the bowling shirt he’s wearing could either be a modern fashion statement or a dated uniform. He looks to be in his mid-twenties, sun-kissed and with the air of someone who tells a lot of jokes at the expense of others. His arm around Katie strikes you as possessive, the glare he gives her parents venomous.

“I didn’t name him,” Katie says. “He said it’s short of Torrance.”

You blink. “Wouldn’t he be Torri then?”

“That’s a girl’s name,” Katie and Terry say at the same time. Their cadence is so close that it actually sounds like Terry’s baritone comes out of Katie’s mouth. For a moment, his arm flickers, clipping into her shoulder like a bad animation. When it does, Terry’s form grows brighter, more solid. Then Katie shivers and he’s forced out of her.

You and Terry click your tongues at the same time.

You remember how Katie’s hands seemed to blur at the dinner table. Terry’s not just haunting Katie. He’s trying to possess her. You wonder if that’s why Katie looked up an exorcist rather than a simple spiritual cleansing. Did she know how much danger she was in?

“Okay,” you say. You tear your attention away from Katie and Terry for a moment. Business first. “Sarah. Leroy. Who was it that found my site?”

“I did,” Sarah says. She raises her chin when you can’t hide your surprise. “When Katie was looking up exorcists—”

“She didn’t mean it,” Terry says. He pats Katie’s hat. “Right?”

“—I looked up alternative solutions,” Sarah says, not having heard Terry. Her confidence falters for a moment and she rubs her arm. “I have had some… negative experiences with exorcisms. I don’t want my daughter to go through that.”

Katie’s head whips towards her mother. “What? I didn’t know that.”

“It was a long time ago,” Leroy says. For the first time, he reaches out and hugs Sarah with one arm. You don’t know what surprises you more; Leroy hugging Sarah or Sarah leaning into his side. “When Sarah told me, we decided to put our differences aside. I vetted you through some of my contacts and they all agreed you’d be a safe bet.”

“I am,” you say. You’re not bragging either. You’re probably the safest bet in half the western states besides your older sister. “There are some…peculiarities in my method.”

“Charlatan,” Terry whispers in Katie’s ear. He’s grinning now. “Only charlatans are that confident. Look! She can’t even see me!”

Katie looks doubtful.

Usually, you’d try to talk to Terry at this point. Sometimes spirits can be negotiated with. They can be encouraged to move on or to take on a less aggressive form of haunting. Those that are truly stuck can be helped with the right sort of ritual work. But the way Terry’s affecting Katie’s mood and that fucking arm around her shoulders…

You don’t really want to talk to Terry.

“We can ask Terry to move on,” you tell the family.

“Nooooooo,” Terry says and flips you off. “Pass!”

“Sometimes spirits don’t realize how deeply they’re affecting their hosts,” you say.

“You don’t even know how deep I’m about to be,” Terry jeers at you.

“Many ghosts are confused when they’re called to interact with the living,” you say. “It can blur their understanding of death and, as a result, they cling to life. If they stick around long enough, their presence will affect the living like what’s happening to Katie. It’s not always malicious. It can be a symptom of that confusion.”

“Katie, tell her to piss off,” Terry hisses in the teen’s ear. “I’m not confused, I’m bored.” His voice deepens. “Tell her we don’t need her help. Tell her we’re going home.”

Katie opens her mouth robotically. “That’s…” Her brow creases as she tries to figure out what she was going to say. “It seems like we don’t need help then. Terry will move on when he’s ready, like I thought.”

“We aren’t paying you for a ghost therapy session,” Sarah snaps. It’s only because you’re really focusing that you can see the unease under her anger. She’s noticed something wrong with Katie. “Katie, Terry is going away today.”

“Fuck you,” Terry says.

“Fuck you,” Katie says.

Leroy’s head rears back. “Katie, you don’t use that language with your mother!”

“Fuck you too,” Katie and Terry say. The parking lot lights flicker.

“No, fuck you, Terry,” you say, stepping between Katie and her parents. Leroy starts like he’s going to pull you out of the way, but he doesn’t.

“Terry?” Leroy asks. He looks scared. “Terry said that? Is Terry possessing my daughter?”

“Not yet.” You eye Terry’s arm and the way his fingers are sinking into Katie’s arm.

“Oh fuck,” Terry says. He doesn’t look scared. Not yet. Instead, he grins. “You can see me.”

“Not every ghost is malicious,” you tell the parents without taking your eyes off Terry. “But some are.”

“I’m not malicious.” Terry runs a hand through his hair, still grinning. The parking lot lights flicker overhead again. “I care about Katie a lot.”

“Terry’s never hurt me,” Katie says.

You ignore her. She’s not even shaking Terry off now. Her gaze is dull on your face when you say, “I don’t mean to sound like I’m some sort of ghost therapist. However, it’s important to differentiate between malicious and non-malicious hauntings in my practice. My methods are unconventional and, if used indiscriminately, I can get in a lot of trouble.”

“We won’t tell anyone,” Leroy says. He steps into your periphery. His gaze flicks from you to the spot you’re staring at over Katie’s shoulder. “We want Terry gone.”

“Not a soul,” Sarah promises. She comes up on your other side. “Please help our daughter.”

“Terry,” you say. Your second mouth is yawning wide somewhere in the back of your brain. The taste of pepper isn’t as overwhelming now. “Last chance. Renounce your claim on Katie’s soul and slither back into whatever hole you came out of.”

“We’re soulmates,” Terry says. He bares his teeth at you. “Go on, Charlatan. Call on your God to banish me. I’ve been around for decades and no exorcist has ever been able to put a scratch on me. And when they manage to push me out?” He laughs and the temperature drops another ten degrees. An unholy light flickers in his eyes. “I just come right back.”

“Then I guess I won’t feel guilty,” you say.

“Guilty?” Katie asks.

You walk forward two steps and grab Terry’s face. Terry’s skin is soft and jelly-like. His facial bones undulate like rubber under your grip. “Hi, Terry.”

Now Terry’s afraid. “What the fuck, you can touch—?”

“Bye, Terry.” You drag him towards you. His fingers pop out of Katie’s arm with a wet sucking sound, and he claws at your wrist.

“Wait! Waitwaitwaitwait--”

You eat Terry.

People come from all around to eat at the Brownie Industry. They love the density of the desserts and the heaps of garlic spread over home-baked (shipped frozen) rolls. It’s a treat to know you’re always going to enjoy the meal even if you’re far from home or eating at the same location a hundred times. It’s consistency, sugar and butter. An easy addiction to have.

Eating ghosts is like that for you. They fizz in your second mouth like champagne and melt like fudge. It’s hard to describe and the ephemeral quality of it sends shivers down your spine. Somewhere Terry is screaming in anguish, maybe crying. You think that the family you’re helping is screaming something too, but the sensation of eating is so consuming you can’t hear the words.

Terry is younger than other ghosts you’ve eaten. He doesn’t have the depth of flavor you’d once been addicted to back in Illinois. The best ghost you’ve ever eaten had been like a six-course meal with all the centuries she’d been carrying. In comparison, Terry is like a bag of pepper chips. Interesting, but gone in a moment. Still, he hits the spot.

When you’re done, you burp a purple cloud of ectoplasm into the still night air.

Leroy is the first to speak. His eyes are so wide you can see the whites all around them. “Pay her, Sarah,” he says breathlessly. His hands shake as he reaches for Katie, steadying her on her feet. “Now.”

You smack your lips and graciously accept the wad of cash Sarah hands you. You raise your eyebrows. “This is more than three times my rate.”

“Consider it a tip,” Sarah says. She’s more composed than Leroy, but still pale. She studies you. “That was…revolting.”

“You didn’t have to watch,” you say. You put your money away and then perk up at a sudden thought. “Hey, if you can, can you leave me a review on my site?”

“I thought you didn’t want us to tell anyone?”

You wave your hand. “Secrets are bad for business. Besides, Terry deserved it. I’m sure they’ll understand if you write that in your review.”

“They…?”

You smile and don’t answer.

The family don’t ask many more questions after that. The parents promise to leave a review and Katie just stares at you as if concussed. You assure the parents that she’ll be back to normal as soon as the soul-shock wears off. 

“And if it doesn’t?” Sarah asks.

“Message me,” you say.

“You don’t check your messages,” Leroy says.

“Oh,” you say, patting your stomach, “I’ll be checking them a lot more often now.”

You’re hungry again.

---

(Patreon)

[inkskinned]

it is the first snow today. i think we should all have off work, even though it didn't stick. i think there should be 4 national holidays, one for each season. happy first snow, go home and make cookies. for spring it can be the first crocus. for summer the first lightning bug. for autumn, the first golden leaf. go home, kiss your dog, feed your cat (who is absolutely already-fed but somehow still starving.)

i think we should all take more showers together, but i mean that in the soft way. i mean it like taking a nap. two years ago i had 5 adult friends in my queen bed, all of us laying across each other, head over belly over thigh over hand. any time one of us would giggle, it would ripple over each of us, like pulling on a spiderweb. kim actually needed to nap and didn't get to sleep and i am still sorry for it even though this is one of my most precious memories.

i think we should all wash each other's hair, i mean. i walk my dog and i watch someone put up twinkle lights around their front porch. alex and i just moved, and i love the neighborhood. already so many of our new neighbors have stopped by to say hello. the nice lady downstairs also collects plants, like me. she gave us her number on a pink post-it note. i am trying to decide whether to make her cookies or brownies.

i am going through a very hard time. something bad happened this weekend that i do not wish to discuss. it is hanging over me. i think of the green ribbon, and the woman who had her throat cut. it feels like that sometimes, inside of my body. like i am walking and talking despite being half-corpsed. like i am hanging on by a ribbon, standing on some kind of cusp. i keep saying - at least it wasn't worse. we are so lucky it wasn't worse. the idea is river-rock smooth now, all the edges worried off.

in this very dark night - the sun sets by 3 now - people don't need to, but they try anyway. they paint the missing light into things. i have an embarrassing number of missed calls and texts, but i feel the love from them nevertheless - hey. if you need something, i'm here. i will bring you food/puzzles/anything. i got you.

i think we should all have a big group chat where we do errands with strangers. this week i got lost in a home depot, which is wild because i'm a lesbian and we are actually hatched in a lowe's lumber section. there were two other women in the whole store. we ended up shopping together, at first by accident (we all needed things in the same aisle), and then because, well, why not. one of the ladies was taller than me, so she pulled down the screws i needed. i am agile and have the personality of a raccoon, so they sent me after anything below 3 feet. we talked about holiday plans and never learned each other's names, but did learn all the drama about each other's families.

i am making you cupcakes, because i have so much affection i want to pour it into batter. you ask me if i am eating enough per meal. i wrap your gift twice, trying to do it prettily. i get excited to give it to you, just because i hope you'll be excited too.

my parents drive an hour just to see the new apartment and to do the parent thing; standing in the kitchen saying things like "oh you'll get so much use from this dishwasher" and "well, you could paint that" and "when your mother and i moved it was uphill both ways and in a snowstorm and of course your brother was an infant." my mother brought me a plant for housewarming. i always say i love you before she leaves.

i play dnd on tuesdays still, after all these years. we all keep that night free. at one point, between grad school and marriage and all of it, we had to have a serious discussion about how to keep it running. we will keep going, we decided eventually. just to see each other, even if we don't play - you are all important to me. sebastian is not prone to affection but last night he stole my usual sign off - i love you all, be good, he said. he was laughing.

i don't love the winter, actually. i like snow in theory, but i grew up in the north, and am too-familiar with the season of "mud and sludge". i don't like being cold. but i do love something kind of soft and rare: every year around this time, people remember oh yes. you and i are human together. and i have love to spare.

it is the first snow, and something in my heart is finally warm again. i have spent what felt like the last 18 months just going-through-the-motions. it has felt blank and immediate, like i would never actually feel again. that sounds extremely trite and stupid - but that is the boring and familiar experience of depression. life just washes up against your windows, and you watch it happening. you see things that should be lovely and affecting, and it just whispers too-thin. i was desperately uncreative. uninterested in my hobbies. unimpressed by my writing. i told my therapist, often, i don't know how to find hope again.

almost sheepishly, something strange and lovely is burning in my chest. i keep not-looking at it, worried it will scamper back into the shadows again. it is skittish and wild, but it is so warm i want to sink my hands into its fur and feel it breathing. i love-hate it: if it's real, it can hurt me when it leaves again. but i am icarus-born, sun-lover and poet: i can't help myself. despite my best intentions, i am falling in love with life again.

i am planning to make cookies for my friends. alex and i are going to go christmas tree shopping. we picked out matching dish towels last night, and they have little mushrooms on them.

i love you. it does come back. yes, even after a long time. even for you. i promise. keep trying. you will wake up and it will be a day you can smile about.

write me when you get there. we will take the day off of work, and i will wash your hair, and we will both be laughing.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Deaf!Reader are struggling to earn money to pay off their rent and living expenses, by handing out leaflets on the street X Mafia!Konig

(one time, I was walking past the metro, and there was this lady handing out leaflets to men. I wanted to take the leaflet as well because I always wanted to help the people who were handing it out, but she looked at me super weirdly when I took the leaflet. Turns out, it was a leaflet for illegal prostitution sites (sex work is banned in Czech Republic) You just needed money. The disability payments are dogshit and wouldn't even cover half of the expenses of renting your own place - but all the other jobs are basically blocked to you on the basis of not having enough resources to support a deaf worker. You know it's just their saying, they simply don't want to hire you even for brownie diversity points - but still, the only jobs that you could get without much of an education is something as shitty paying as handing leaflets. At least you can just not read the lips of people who are clearly cussing you out for bothering them with an abysmal task of accepting a thing piece of paper. Only, the gig is just a bit too shitty. It's illegal; technically, sex work is still as banned as always - you stare at the leaflets with half-naked women printed all over, disguised as dating websites, and you want to puke over how fucking terrible it looks. Still, they were paying a bit more than usual, and cops won't bother you as long as it's not a direct sex work endorsement. The people on the streets are having weird reactions, however... Konig had a shitty day and an even more annoying night. Having to oversee a big drug deal himself because Horangi was out dealing with some transgressors, and Krueger can't be trusted with customer service, he had to stay awake at ungodly hours just to finish the deal...and now there is some dumb girl handling him a leaflet for his fucking sex business like she doesn't know who he is and can't hear that he said he doesn't want it three times already and- He notices the way you stare at his lips and ignore the yelling of other people crowding around during rush hour at the station. Oh. Konig guesses even the illegal business of his had to get more open for workers with disability...although he looks at your cute lips and just knows he is ready to promote you from handling leaflets to never holding anything heavier than his hand (and his cock) ever again. Needless to say, you were terrified when this big, grumpy man in a suit just fucking grabbed you hand and pushed you into an unmarked and clearly dangerous-looking vehicle. Of course, sometimes people are annoyed at receiving brochures, but not to the point of kidnapping...and certainly not to the point of bringing you to their lap and then forcing a hand between your legs, squeezing and playing with the flesh like you were nothing but a stress toy. Not being able to read his lips since you were pressed so closely to him, terrified you even more...although his intensions are pretty clear when you felt a kiss pressed to your forehead, and a gentle hold on your neck until you finally passed out in his hands.

[strangersteddierthings]

Eddie blinks. Once. Twice. And a third time for good measure. The scene before him doesn't change. Steve Harrington stands off to the side of the lunch table, behind Jeff and Frankie who have both gone still as statues like they think if they don't move, King Steve won't see them.

"Uh, what?" Eddie finds himself saying, against his own will. He heard Harrington the first time, doesn't need or want him to repeat himself, but his disbelief seems to have won out against his grudge for all jocks and his indifference to Steve Harrington in particular.

Harrington's face pinches, like he's three seconds away from rolling his eyes. He doesn't do that, though, which Eddie will give him one brownie point for. "I asked if you had a minute to talk." Eddie's taking away his brownie point because Steve 'asks' in a way that sounds more like a demand.

Hearing the question and or demand a second time doesn't lower Eddie's hackles, but it does pique his curiosity. He drums his fingers atop his lunchbox, thinking it over. He wishes he could say he's pretending to think about it before he tells Harrington to fuck off, but the truth is he actually is thinking about it.

What could Harrington possibly have to say to him? They very much do not run in the same circles. Eddie only talks business at the picnic table past the edge of the woods out back and everyone who buys from him knows that. They share several classes, since they're both seniors, but everyone knows Eddie's on a track to not graduate (again) so he can't possibly be coming to discuss Mrs. Click's homework assignment.

"Sure. Should we go elsewhere or...?" Eddie trails off, lifting a hand to wave in a circle in Steve's direction, questioning.

Steve looks over his shoulder, back towards the side of the cafeteria taken up by the 'popular' crowd. When Steve turns his face back, he looks- well, kind of sad for a moment before it's smoothed over with indifference.

Interesting.

"No. It's probably good that the rest of your friends hear it anyway," Steve answers.

Jeff's eyebrows rise to his hairline, and Frankie frowns as his eyebrows raise at the same time, showing an expression of interest. Eddie's got no idea what Gareth's face is doing because Eddie can't see him unless he wants to turn his face away, but he's certain it's probably a glare of some sort.

Eddie leans back in his chair, wiggling like he's getting extra comfortable before he says, "Well, alright Harrington. Shoot."

"I'm graduating this year, so I just wanted to give you a heads up for next year. I tried to curb the bullying, but I know it still happened. So, since I'm not going to be here to watch out for that, you're gonna wanna up your," Steve gestures to all of Eddie, "everything."

He knew Steve curbed the bullying a bit, heard the confirmation of that last year from Jason Carver and Tommy Hagan, when he'd stepped in to save Gareth. Or rather, Gareth had come flying in to save him and then Eddie had to save Gareth- well, the details don't matter really.

"My everything?" Eddie asks, more confused than angry. He thinks he should be angry. Harrington has all but outright said he doesn't think Eddie's going to graduate with him, after all. But no. The main emotion now is confusion.

"Yeah. Your, y'know, freakinesss or whatever. Be more of it."

"Be more of a freak?" It's fascinating, that Harrington just keeps talking like he thinks anyone at this table care for his opinion.

"Yeah!" Harrington says, cheery like he thinks that Eddie's agreed with him somehow, complete with a stupid snap of his fingers that turns into a finger gun pointed at Eddie. "You've already got this like unapproachable mad dog kind of look about you, most of the JV team is already scared of you. Just like, up that a bit more and they'll probably steer clear of you and your friends." Then Harrington frowns deep, looking around the table of nerds and dorks before looking down at the top of Gareth's head to add, "well. Except probably curly here. No offense, but you seem an easy target."

"Fuck off," Gareth growls, because of everyone at the table, Gareth does have the most bite. (Most bark goes to Eddie himself). Eddie's more prone to run from a problem than engage in it, unlike Gareth, who he's had to pull off of a few people this year.

"Or not," Harrington retracts his previous statement and Eddie will grant the man another brownie point, which brings the total up to one.

"Good to know my reputation precedes me," Eddie grins, wild and a bit manic.

Harrington is unphased. "Yeah! Do that more. I think it really freaks Jason out and he's most likely to take the captain slot next year, so if you get him afraid of you, the rest of the team'll fall in line and leave you alone too. I think he's super religious, so like, lean into the satanic panic thing people are up in arms about and next year will be a breeze. And-"

Eddie lifts a hand, a motion for Harrington to stop talking. It surprised him a little that Harrington does. Even more interesting. "Stop me if I'm wrong here, Harrington, but are you suggesting that I become the bully?"

Harrington's mouth opens and closes a few times before his face pinches again. Instead of looking like he's going to roll his eyes and be bitchy, Harrington looks confused and then like he's deep in thought. An uncomfortable amount of awkward silence falls over there table, but it's just when Eddie's about to break that silence that Harrington finally speaks. "No. I'm saying just like, be you but bigger. Like, you don't even gotta look in the team's direction. If you're just more of a freak than you usually are, they'll steer clear without the bullying."

"You sure know how to compliment a guy," Eddie deadpans. He's not even upset that Steve's called him a freak. He's spent the majority of his high school career cultivating that outlook. He wasn't just a freak, he was The Freak.

Now a look crosses Harrington's face. One Eddie's not sure he's interpreting correctly. If he had to take a guess, he'd say the look was calculating, knowing, in a way that Eddie doesn't think Harrington could actually achieve. Then it's gone, replaced with the bitchy, eye-rolling look Eddie's used to seeing, and Harrington says, "I haven't said anything untrue."

Hmm. The most interesting thing yet. Eddie might not be graduating (again) but he's not dumb. He didn't survive this far in his life, with a father like his, without learning to read people. He wasn't as good as he wanted to be at reading people last year, but he's definitely good enough know to think that, maybe, just maybe, Harrington also knows a thing or two about cultivating a public perception. Making sure people only see a certain side of you.

"Alright," is what Eddie answers, "I'll take what you've said under advisement."

"Uh. Okay," Harrington says before he just walks away. Conversation over.

"Well," Jeff says, "that was strange."

"Very," Eddie agrees as he watches Harrington walk away, tracking him until the cafeteria door slams shut behind him when he exits.

Eddie has always wanted to up the ante, so to speak. Jump on a cafeteria table and rant about capitalism and organized sports. He never has before but next year seems like a great time to try.

[un-lawliet]

WHAT IF teen!Gojo and teen!reader are best friends teetering on the edge of lovers but they get into a petty little argument and start ignoring each other right???? so reader goes on a date with someone else to be petty and Gojo internally freaks out. So, him and his friends get in disguises as Gojo tries to sabotage the date without being noticed but instead he accidentally helps the other guy look great and impressive every time💀

Geto, shoko, and Nanami don’t help Satoru. They just watch and laugh😭 good fluffy ending though pls

THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST !!!!! i loved this idea so so much- i kinda tweaked the request slightly but i hope this is ok <3 i love you and thank you for your patience !

“Normal”

- in which you’re on a date with someone that isn’t Gojo.

“Does this count as stalking?”

It absolutely did count as stalking.

Gojo, Shoko, Nanami and Geto were currently huddled in a dimly lit booth hunkering down as to not be seen by you…or your pompous looking date sat opposite you.

“It’s not stalking.” Gojo splutters, glaring at Geto through the top of his sunglasses, “It’s just..just-”

“You tracking Y/N down and making us watch her on a date.” Shoko muses, rolling a cigarette between her fingers, reaching for her lighter.

“Exactly!”

Nanami groans, his head falling backwards, hair falling over the curve of his eyebrows, hiding his face slightly.

Shaking his head, a small grin dances across Geto’s calm face, watching as Gojo pouts and glares at your table, eyes completely trained on your face.

“‘S’not even that good looking, she just has a thing for guys that flatter her.” He grumbles under his breath, flicking the fancy wall he leaned on.

“Think most girls enjoy feelin’ pretty Gojo.” Shoko replies, hand still feeling around in her pocket, “Oh fuck sakes, I’ve lost my lighter…Hey- Geto, you wouldn’t happen to have a spare one on ya?”

Geto nodded, tossing her a purple lighter from across the table, smiling gently as she thanked him.

“You shouldn’t smoke inside.” Nanami mutters, now staring down at the menu in-front of him, finger tracing along the prices in thought, seeming to pause on the brownie section.

“No one can see, we’re fine.” She sighs, taking a drag and blowing it towards Gojo, grinning as he dramatically clutches his chest, gasping for air.

“What’s the point of us even being here Gojo.” Nanami huffs, side eyeing the bakery stand parallel to their table.

“Because, I need to show her that this..this loser is nothing compared to me!”

“I don’t know Satoru.” Geto muses, taking a sip of his camomile, “Y/N seems pretty into him.”

“Suguru!” Gojo gasps in horror, betrayal dripping from his voice and on to the curve of his disgusted face.

Shoko wiggles her eyebrows teasingly, inhaling before continuing. “He has a point Gojo, I mean look, you ever see her smile like that?”

Gojo whips his head around to stare at you, and Shoko covers her mouth to hide a poorly restrained giggle, sharing a glance with Geto.

“I make her smile like that- She smiles like that with me!!” He whines, and Nanami rolls his eyes.

A waitress smashes a glass from behind the café’s counter, you jump slightly in your seat and turn to look over at the sound, you don’t notice the group of strange looking teenagers ducking down at your movement, concealing themselves poorly in their seats.

Your date laughs at you, you blush and turn back to him bashfully, excusing yourself for being so on edge.

Gojo glares.

“So what’s the plan then Gojo.” Nanami drawls, resting his face on his palm.

“Yes! The plan!” Gojo splutters, looking away from your pretty, pretty face to look at the three of them.

He hesitates and Shoko groans.

“You do have a plan don’t you?”

“Of course I do!..So, the plan..the plan um, well-”

“He has no plan.” Geto interrupts.

“Jesus Christ Gojo.”

“Does that mean I can leave?”

“Shut up!” Gojo exclaims, “I’m thinking give me a second would ya?”

“Nanami if your leaving I’m coming with you.”

“Wanna go now Shoko?”

“Guys!”

Gojo slumps forward in his chair, his face resting on the table as he whines.

Geto rests a hand on his back and chuckles, shaking his head at the two other sorcerers.

“It’s ok Satoru, we can all figure something out ‘kay?”

“Yea?” Gojo replies, his voice muffled by the table.

“Yea.”

Instantly, Gojo springs up, his eyes as wide as his smile.

“Ok let’s brainstorm.” Geto suggest, his voice like honey as he removes his hand from Gojo’s back and reaches back to his tea.

“What if we spill tea over him!” Gojo gasped, pointing towards the cup in Geto’s hand, a sharp look crossing his face.

“Stupid. Y/N would see us.” Shoko grumbles.

“No- See Shoko, the point of a brain storming session means we make suggestions and listen without judgement.” Gojo argues, crossing his arms.

“Yea but your idea was stupid.” Nanami concludes, watching as Shoko nods.

“You suggest something then Nanamin!”

“I’m suggesting nothing, this whole idea is foolish.”

“OoOoh “Foolish” is it?”

“I’m leaving.”

Nanami stands up reaching for his bag, scowling at Gojo.

“Hey, hey Nanami c’mon ignore him he’s just..” Geto pauses with a quick regard to Gojo, “He’s just Satoru.”

“An idiot.” Shoko chimes.

“Yes, an idiot.”

Nanami sighs as he sits down, placing his brown bag back at his feet reluctantly ignoring Gojo’s grin.

“…What if we trip up the waitress as she’s bringing them their food.” Shoko suggests, twirling a piece of hair around her finger.

“That could work!”

“No, Satoru, that just causes trouble to the waiting staff.”

“And?”

Geto rolls his eyes, “We don’t need to cause anyone any trouble just because you’re too afraid to just ask Y/N out.”

“I am not afraid!” Gojo moans, putting his face in his hands.

“Uh huh, that’s why you fell out with her when she told you about the date.” Shoko laughs, wiping off ash from her arm.

“What was I supposed to do?” Gojo queries, frowning.

“Talk to her?” Nanami deadpans, “Like a normal person.”

“Our Gojo isn’t normal though.” Shoko winks, nudging an unamused Nanami.

“Focus guys.” Geto says, clapping his hands twice to draw attention.

Your sweet laugh echoes through the cafe, and Gojo pouts, shoulders slumping.

You were supposed to be sitting opposite him laughing.

It was supposed to be his food with which you shared.

And yet one petty argument about some random guy you had met in returning from your last mission asking you out, had ruined everything.

The shared glances between you and Gojo, how you leaned on his shoulder when you slept in classes, the way he would always keep an eye on your cursed energy when joining you in battle.

All those little moments had dissolved in the bitter moments after you informed him of your date, a small smile dancing in your eyes.

“He said I was pretty Toru’” You had said, your eyes wide, and Gojo wanted to cover the love sick gleam glistening in your eyes with his hand.

“I always think your pretty.” He mumbled, watching you cock your head in confusion.

“What was that?” You questioned, leaning towards him slightly, trying to recall his quiet words.

“Nothin’.” His curt response didn’t phase you as you moved backwards, a charming skip in your step.

“Think he sounds stupid.” Gojo was never good at expressing his true feelings, and in that moment, Gojo’s sheer panic over you leaving him overpowered his aloofness.

“You think someone thinking I’m pretty is stupid?” Your shoulders fell, and you turn to him, a small lour crossing your face.

“What? No? That’s not what I-”

“It what’s you said though Toru’” You sighed, and Gojo cursed at himself for the glimmer of insecurity that appeared to vex you in that moment.

“It’s just- Well he’s just stupid.”

“So you are calling him stupid for telling me I’m pretty.”

“No! He’s stupid! Not his words!”

“That’s the same thing Gojo!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

And now Gojo’s watching as Geto summons one of his smallest and weakest curses to push your stupid dates chair over, sunglasses off and held in his fist.

“Oh so we’re actually going with this plan? I wasn’t imagining it?” Shoko muses, stealing a forkful of Nanami’s brownie.

“Nobody else had any better ideas.” Gojo silenced, waving a hand in her direction, practically clamouring on top of Geto to watch.

“Satoru watch it, I can’t see where my curse is going with you on me.” Geto scolds, brushing the white haired man off.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Nanami’s disinterest oozes out from his voice, nudging his plate over to Shoko who smiles brightly at his offer.

Geto flexes his hand, ensuring that the curse went unnoticed by you, it ducked under a table and weaved between chair legs.

“Make sure Y/N doesn’t see it!” Gojo panics, his hand covering his mouth.

Geto pauses, and looks over his shoulder towards Gojo, eyebrow raised.

“…Sit down Satoru.”

And Gojo immediately drops, hands on his legs.

The curse bobbles over to under your dates chair, and Geto smiles, before releasing his hold.

.

.

.

The sound of your dates chair toppling over boomed through the cafe, and with a swift flick of his finger, the curse dissapears, and all four of the sorcerer’s immediately drop their heads.

“Oh my God? Are you ok?!” Your concerned voice follows, and you stand up instantly, rushing towards your date, who grins at you from the floor.

“Oops, must have slipped.” He smiles, accepting your hand in helping in up, wiping the memory of his fall off of his jeans. “At least I have a pretty lady to help me in my moment of weakness.”

You giggle, and push his shoulder, “Oh shush you tease.” Bending over to pick up his chair.

“Oh no don’t worry I got it.” Your date winks, helping you lift the chair.

“How??!?!” Gojo groans, watching you swoon, “What is happening?”

“Man.. She must really like him eh?” Shoko offers, sharing a cheeky smile with Geto.

“Maybe it’s hopeless.” Nanami chimes in, “Do you want to finish this?” He asks Shoko, gesturing to the half eaten brownie.

“Actually?”

“Yea go on, you seem to be enjoying it.”

“Maybe.” Geto cuts in, “Maybe we should just leave them be? Let it fizzle out naturally?”

“What if there is no naturally Suguru.” Gojo mopes, kicking the leg of the table.

“Gojo it’s obvious she likes you, and it’s obvious you’re both smitten.” Shoko says, her voice muffled and she finishes Nanami’s brownie.

“..You think?”

“Everyone thinks.” Nanami replies, “Haibara thought you two were dating when we first joined the school.”

“How is Haibara by the way?” Geto questioned, “Why didn’t he join us?”

“Not sure, he said something about needing more sleep before his first solo mission.”

“Isn’t that next week?” Shoko adds.

“He likes his sleep.”

“Come on guys! Focus!!” Gojo exclaims. “I’m in a dire situation here!!”

“A dire situation that could be solved with a conversation, Gojo.” Nanami rolls his eyes.

“Try the curse again Suguru.”

“Satoru it didn’t work once, it probably won’t work a second time.”

“Ugh.” Gojo slumps back, a sigh escaping his lips. “If you’re all so sure Y/N likes me, then why is she with that loser right now?”

“She probably got tired waiting for you to make a move Gojo.” Shoko replies.

“Yea the “will they, won’t they” becomes tiresome after a while.” Geto agrees, pushing his empty cup towards the middle of the table.

“Ah!” Shoko says pointing over at you.

“They’re leaving Gojo.” Nanami affirms, joining Shoko in pointing.

“What?!?” Gojo gapes, “No!”

Geto laughs, shoving Gojo to his feet, watching you leave the cafe. “Go get her Satoru.”

“But how?” Gojo moans.

“Just go!” They all exclaim, and Gojo pauses for a split second before he’s bounding towards the door.

By the time he’s outside, you’re waving goodbye to your date, promising to call him as he walks the other way.

You look happy he thinks, and suddenly feels very out of place.

Gojo’s begins to turn to go back into the cafe, admitting defeat, when he hears your voice behind him.

“Gojo?” You gasp, disbelief permeating from your voice. And Gojo freezes, turning around awkwardly to face you.

“Hi.” Gojo replied, scuffing his shoes against the ground as he approaches you, hands in his pockets attempting to appear cool.

You look at him, your mouth slightly agape as you fiddle with the sleeve of your jumper, processing his appearance.

“You followed me to my date?” You ask accusingly, glancing around.

“He didn’t offer to take you home?” Gojo chooses to ignore you, refusing to acknowledge the implication of your words.

“I told him I could go back by myself.”

“Some guy.”

“Satoru.” You pause, lifting a hand to stop him, “Why are you here?”

A car drives past the pair of you, it’s headlights cast shadows across his perfect face and your hold yourself back from staring.

He stalls, looking at you for a moment. “C’mere, I’ll walk you home.”

“Satoru.”

You’re tired of his deflections, for once you just want to talk.

You both stare at each-other, silence decorating the air between you.

And Gojo shakes his head, stepping backwards and looking away.

“You look good.” He mutters.

“Good?”

“Pretty alright? You look pretty, he was right.”

“My date?”

Gojo’s sunglasses fall down the bridge of his nose slightly as he leans down to look at you.

“Who else?” He muses.

You don’t understand, your heart fluttering pathetically in your chest as you prove further.

“Why are you telling me this now?” You ask, your voice light, scarce of hope.

“Because.” Gojo hesitates, hating how unsure he sounds in this moment. “Because you are.”

You step towards him, it’s a slow movement and Gojo watches you almost cautiously.

“It took me going on a date with someone else for you to finally say something?” You tease, your hands shaking despite the confidence in your words.

“Would have said something without him, y’know?”

“..Really?” Your eyes widen, a tiny grin crossing your face.

Gojo nods, and you take another step and hug him, burying your face in the warmth of his chest.

And Gojo’s smile almost hurts his cheeks as he wraps his arms around your figure, pulling you in closer.

“You’re an idiot.” You mumble, looking up at him.

“But you like me.” He replies, cockily grinning down at you, blue eyes sparkling.

“Yea, I do.” You whisper, clinging to him, moving your head backdown to face his chest, face burning with your confession.

A small kiss is placed on the top of your head and you hold back a giddy laugh, pulling away from his embrace completely.

“So…Does that mean you’ll let me take you out?” Gojo questions, taking your hand and pulling you gently along to walk with him.

“Hmm I don’t know..Are you asking?” Your head leans on his arm, grabbing his arm as you walk.

“I would take you somewhere much better than that shitty cafe.”

And you’re laughing, “You love that cafe Toru.”

And he laughs with you, a long arm circling around your shoulders, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

And Geto, Shoko and Nanami watch from the window of the cafe, shaking their heads.

“Idiots.” Shoko says.

“Completely.” Nanami agrees.

Masterlist <3

Feel free to leave a request !

A/N : HELLLLLOOOO PEOPLE !! ABBY’S BACK !!! thank you for the request sweets this is literally one of my favourite concepts ever I cannot cope!!!! I love teenage Gojo so much :( BUT ALSO Shoko <333333 — i hope everyone is happy and healthy, i finished this at 2am and i have school tmrw pls kill me rn i hope a car hits me when i walk in, genuinley this no longer a joke.

LOVE YOU