#hot chocolate arc

[starkittnd93]

MY-

MY HOT CHOCOLATE-

[here-comes-the-moose]

Crosshair: I’m mean and cold-hearted. I don’t need anyone or any comforts.

Echo: Shut the fuck up Crosshair, you get hurt if one of us doesn’t tuck you in and cry every time you watch Lilo & Stitch.

[gentlyevilvt]

Interacting with the hypno community on tumblr more lately and being finished with college work until January is a pretty deadly combo. I feel like at some point in the next couple of weeks there is a significant risk of me entering what proffessionals have called "sillymode".

[pink-tk-a-latte]

WE ARE WINNING SO HARD

[daisyachain]

This is generalization but it does make me feel like I’m losing my mind. Anglo-American romance novels aimed at women—‘what if you, a normal person, were forced into proximity with the smuggest most self-satisfied person who physically invades your space, insults you, acts like an attention whore at best, borderline sexually assaults you, isn’t that great’ and then you go to romance manga aimed at young women—‘what if you, a normal person, we’re forced into proximity with a two faced bitch who tries to control your every move and also refuses to speak or engage with you unless it’s to isolate you from your peers or get mad at you for talking to another living person’

[luv4fushi]

omfg i litr read everything uve written off ur masterlist I NEED MOREEEE. i love the way u write megumi especially, i couldn’t get enough of it. i hope you write more of him, my heart aches for more tbh 🥹 tysm for being such a good writer and feeding us starved readers well

tysm! i'm sooo glad i can be a good source of megumi content for you >_< i looove writing megumi so you'll be seeing sooo much more of him, dw! happy holidays!

this december

jjk fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

it’s always colder on your own, especially around this time of year. you should be at home, bundled up with a warm cup of hot chocolate, but here you are in shinjuku, exorcizing curses with your ex boyfriend two weeks after your breakup with him. great.

content: post break up, aged up megumi (19/20), megumi is terrible at feelings, getting back together, fluff if you squint, a bit of angst, miscommunication, one bed (but it isn’t the main plot point sorry), megumi calls you baby like once, gojo is the best wingman, SHIBUYA ARC NEVER HAPPENED AND LIFE IS GOOD, not proofread im very sorry guys pls forgive me, kinda a word dump sry

word count: 5.8k (sigh this was supposed to be 2k words max)

click on my masterlist for more & merry christmas to those who celebrate!

it’s december 19th when satoru gojo tells you that he has a mission just for you. you’re less than ecstatic about it to say the least. the last thing you want to do is be sent to your death just shy of christmas day. you just want to rest your sore muscles and bask in the presence of your best friends. you’re not in the mood to kill any curses, mainly because you’ve just recovered from a previous mission.

“why me?” you groan.

gone are the days where you used to be a goody two shoes for satoru. you’re old enough to talk back now, not like when you had been a shy fifteen-year-old girl. besides, you’ve been around the silver-haired sorcerer long enough to know that he doesn’t mind the bite.

“sorry, kid,” satoru says with a shrug. at least he sounds genuine about it. “the higher ups requested for you specifically. they say you’ll get the job done in the cleanest way. we can’t have things getting messy before the holidays, right?”

“and you wouldn’t be the best choice?” you quip.

satoru only laughs. he ruffles your hair. even with your growth spurt and merciless training, he still towers over you. in a way, he’ll always be your mentor. “hey, i’m going out of town that weekend. give me a break.”

you huff petulantly. something about this mission seems fishy to you. you’re not nearly the strongest sorcerer out of the bunch of kids under satoru’s wings (not that you guys are kids anymore, but sometimes it’s hard to feel otherwise). hell, there’s the kyoto students. it feels like they never have to do anything. you wish that you were rebellious enough to chew utahime out for it.

“why couldn’t they just make yuta or megumi go?” you mutter under your breath. you stammer out megumi’s name and hope satoru doesn’t catch on to the way you can barely say it.

satoru knows about the breakup. why wouldn’t he? he’s basically megumi’s dad, even if the raven haired boy refuses to admit it. satoru’s six eyes mean you can’t hide anything from him (he’d been the first to know that megumi was head over heels for you).

satoru raises a brow. “oh, right. megumi’s coming along too.”

your face twists and you immediately whip around to glare at him. “you’re lying.”

“i wish,” he jokes. “i was really hoping i’d get a wedding invitation one day, you little rascal. i can’t believe you two broke up. maybe this’ll be a good thing!”

“i appreciate your honesty, but—”

“but megumi’s an emotionally constipated kid, yeah, that i know,” satoru laughs. he makes his way to the exit of his office which has you furrowing your brows. is your former teacher actually gonna just leave after making you come all the way here? how rude and so very in character of him.

“please, gojo,” you call out after him, “i don’t wanna go with him.”

“sucks for you,” satoru responds halfheartedly. “merry christmas. try not to take more than a week on this. you’ll have to pay the rest of the fee for accommodations if you do.”

“gojo!” you whine.

“it’s not a hard mission!” satoru insists like it’ll make your life any easier. “y’know, this time of year is when things get ugly. think of it as saving as many people as you can while putting in the least amount of effort!”

and then he teleports. your former teacher teleports away rather than being normal and walking out of the door. you roll your eyes and hope that he can sense it (you know he can’t).

so that’s why you’re here now. with your ex. on the elevator to your assigned room on the tenth floor. you’re so glad that it’s a normal hotel and not a love hotel. lord knows what you’d do if you had checked into a love hotel.

megumi hasn’t spoken a word to you since he broke up with you two weeks ago. it had been in the doorway to your apartment a few days after a particularly rough mission assigned to the both of you—the one you’re still recovering from. he’d pulled you in for a hug, whispering sweet words into your ear. he gave you a look, one of those looks that made him soften his usually sharp eyes.

“i think we should break up.”

and then came the pathetic whimper of yours. he had wiped your tears, even kissed them tenderly, before telling you that it wasn’t your fault—it was his. how cliche.

now as you stand next to him, you want to beat yourself up for not asking for closure. neither of you had explicitly stated that you two were going to be no-contact, but it hurts a lot less to push the idea of forever with megumi away to the back of your mind. besides, you two aren’t confrontational like that. not with each other, anyway.

“need help?” his tone is soft, tender—the tone he reserves specifically for you, the one that tells you he still cares.

you stare down at the luggage at your feet. you’ve always been a chronic overpacker, a habit that megumi knows of by now. he watches you curiously, hands itching at his sides. you can tell that he wants to reach out and grab your suitcase like he always does. he thinks he isn’t obvious, but you can always read through the lines, especially when it’s megumi.

“i’m okay,” you croak out, clearing your throat awkwardly.

the elevator dings and you make your way to your room. as much as you hate to admit it, you’re sort of glad that you and your ex boyfriend are sharing a room. perhaps his’ll be a good way to get closure, though you’re not really sure what closure entails.

what you don’t expect is to unlock the door and be met with a singular bed.

if satoru gojo didn’t have a layer of infinity coating his body (and if he wasn’t the strongest sorcerer alive), you would’ve wrung out his neck.

megumi simply walks into the room, setting his duffel bag down on one of the dressers opposite from the foot of the bed. he doesn’t comment on the lack of double beds, seemingly already aware of the set up.all he does is puff out a weary sigh. you suck in a breath and follow him inside, slipping your shoes off at the entrance.

you lug your suitcase in after you along with your duffel bag and backpack. you stumble forward and megumi’s arm snakes around your waist, steadying you.

“careful,” he mutters, nonchalantly taking your bag off our your shoulders.

it’s a quick series of movements; he swings your bag over his shoulders and places it on the dresser next to the one he’s claimed while guiding you softly to the side of the bed so that you’re not standing in the middle of the doorway.

you scrunch your face, feeling your heart thump against your ribcage. it’s stupid how he still has such a hold on you, even after two weeks of not seeing or talking to him. he’s just so caring, so gentle. it stings, like little the little cuts you get when fighting curses, when you realize that this is something you’ll have to learn how to lose.

“thanks,” you manage to mutter. you don’t trust yourself to say anything else. you know from the way your throat tightens that you’ll be crying soon if you force yourself to talk any more.

“i can take the couch,” megumi says.

it’s that easy with him; he’s a gentleman, so of course he’d take the couch. that’s the way megumi fushiguro is—he offers a solution before you even have the chance to complain. in your year and a half long relationship, that skill of his had been a saving grace.

“no, don’t bother,” you croak. “i’ll book another room.”

“really?” he asks. he stands up a little straighter, awkwardly reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “i mean, i don’t mind sharing a room with you… we’ve..”

we’ve shared a room countless of times before.

megumi doesn’t have to continue his sentence for you to understand what he’s implying. you part your lips to speak, but nothing comes out except for a long, heavy sigh. your shoulders drop as you let the exhaustion seep into your bones. there’s no use arguing about it, not when you don't’ mind sharing a room with megumi, either.

“we’ve broken up,” you remind him in a quiet voice, like you’re afraid saying it out loud will make it truer than it already is.

megumi pauses. you see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. “i know that, but … it’ll be fine. we’ve shared a room as friends before.”

he’s right, like he usually is. you two have shared a room before as just friends, but that had been as teenagers—back when you both harbored such hardcore crushes on each other that you two somehow didn’t notice.

“right,” you find yourself agreeing with a small nod.

“you should go get ready for bed.” megumi begins grabbing a few or the decorative pillow off of the bed. he places them gingerly on the brown couch tucked in the corner of the hotel room. “we’ll be getting up pretty early to deal with the brunt of the mission.”

to finish this mission as quickly as possible, you think.

and so you oblige and head to the bathroom. it’s december 19th, just a few days shy of christmas day, and you’re in bed with your ex boyfriend on the couch just a few feet away.

december 20th greets you with megumi hovering over you. he peers down at you with his messy bangs covering his eyes. they’re piercingly blue as he blinks. his lashes flutter perfectly, even in the early morning. your eyes meet his and you jolt awake.

“good morning,” he says. “your alarm has been ringing for a bit now, so i turned it off.”

you blink rapidly, getting the tiredness out of your eyes. “oh.”

he chuckles softly, just enough for you to catch it with your ears. he rises from his crouched position and heads to the front door. he spares you a glance over his shoulder before he heads out, presumably giving you the privacy you need. you let out a strangled breath before you swing your legs over the bed and head to the bathroom.

by the time you’re finished putting on your uniform, you swing the door to your hotel room open and see megumi leaned up against the wall, tapping away on his phone. his dark blue eyes flicker up to you and he turns away to head down the hall.

you furrow your brows. you can’t help but think that he’s being a little cold to you. it isn’t like you initiated the breakup. despite your frustration with his behavior, you can sort of understand why he wouldn’t want to be sweet around you; you two aren’t dating anymore and so it makes sense that he’d go back to being aloof in your presence, the usual way he acts around everyone else. losing that position in his life makes your stomach churn for reasons you’re less than willing to uncover.

your mission is a vague one; all you know is that it’s a clean-up mission. rather than a level 1 curse (or even a special grade), the mission consists of an acclimation of weak curses surrounding shinjuku. these missions are normally given to younger, more inexperienced sorcerers with the help of a senior sorcerer, but for an odd reason, it’s been given to you and megumi this year. megumi could’ve probably handled it himself. actually, you could’ve handled it yourself.

you bite your tongue to hold back on your complaints as you walk just a step behind megumi. he pauses regularly, waiting for you to catch up to his side. you roll your eyes in secret. does he not realize that you don’t want to walk next to him?

“it’s all just bars,” you mutter.

with that, you earn a tiny laugh from megumi. “well, yeah. this is the red-light district of shinjuku.”

you pale. “this sucks.”

“why do you think i wanted to come out here in the morning rather than at night?” he says, his tone strangely light.

“to deal with the brunt of the mission,” you repeat his words from last night sarcastically. you’re unsure as to what he’s talking about, so you think that it’s okay to give him a little bit of attitude.

he raises his brow but doesn’t comment on your sarcasm. instead, he says softly, “no, stupid. it’s because this is the red-light district. it’s unsafe for anyone, especially a pretty, young girl alone at night.”

your first thought is to coo and tease him. you think i’m pretty? it takes you half a second to remember that you two are broken up. you scoff, “i’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“i never said you weren’t,” megumi shoots back. “it would just be annoying explaining to the higher ups why you were fighting people and not curses.”

“i’m sure they’d understand,” you retort, frowning. you cross your arms.

“don’t be so pouty,” he says in that stupid, gentle tone he uses with you when you’re acting bratty.

you both decide to split up. well, it’s more like you demand the two of you to split up. you say it under the pretense that it’ll get the job done faster. besides, you both want to be home before christmas day, right?

there’s about two curses you cross paths with every hour. you’re starting to lose your mind. shouldn’t the streets be infested with them? you don’t even need a veil! all you have to do is give the weak curses just one punch and they vaporize on the spot. your head is running with hundreds of thoughts.

that’s when it hits you: the first years at the tokyo jujutsu school did come out here a week prior! maybe they did a bad job? but you remember nobara had been the one to lead the group. she may half-ass almost everything in her life, but she wouldn’t jeopardize her underclassmen for the sake of her freetime.

so why on earth are you here? it’s not like there are enough harmful curses for a mission to be assigned to you right before christmas, and to you and megumi of all sorcerers. you’re both strong enough to the point of having some kind of importance in the jujutsu world. the higher ups wouldn’t send the two of you on some stupid mission for the sake of it unless they’re planning some sort of secret execution. but even then, satoru gojo should’ve known through their lies to not send you or megumi. unless…he wants you two dead…?

you shake your head and bite your nails. the sun begins to set and you realize that you’ve been out here for longer than you expected. you’re starting to feel a chill in your bones—you had argued petulantly with megumi earlier about not wanting to wear your jacket despite it being the dead of winter; “it’s gonna get in the way!”

you always seem to forget the the sun sets earlier in the winter. it’s stupid how bright all the lights are in shinjuku. there isn’t a square foot of anything that isn’t lit up with neon signs reading out the names of clubs and bars. you see couples and large groups of people walking along the streets.

it’s lonely, you realize. it would’ve been less lonely with megumi.

you make your way to the meeting spot with megumi. you both share a few small words before retiring for the night. megumi says he wants to go sightseeing, even though there’s really nothing much to see. he doesn’t return to the hotel room until late at night.

when he slips into the only bed that the room offers, you chalk it up to the slight alcohol you smell on his lips. it feels so natural that you don’t push him away even though you should. his body is warm and you fit so perfectly against his broad chest that you think it’ll be okay for you to be a little selfish tonight.

“g’night,” megumi mumbles in his sleep.

you smile and nuzzle closer.

it’s december 21st as you realize how late it is in the day. megumi is back on the couch. you feel a tinge of disappointment in the bottom of your stomach.

to no one’s surprise, the sun is barely peeking over the buildings when you’re finally back in the red-light district. you’re doing the last bit of cleanup, but there’s really nothing much for you to clean.

tomorrow, you’ll be heading to a shopping mall, so you suppose you should do your best to sniff out the rest of the curses littering the place unless you want to stay here an extra day. the day is, yet again, slow.

it’s nearing 8 PM and you're finally sure that you’ve gotten rid of all the curses in the general area. you’ve been done for quite a while now, but you just haven’t found the courage to let megumi know that you’re ready to go back to the hotel room. a little sightseeing on your end wouldn’t hurt, right?

“hi, pretty.” a gravelly voice, battered by cigarettes, whispers in your ear.

you jump in surprise. you need to remember not to get too far into your head. you should’ve felt his presence coming from a mile away. it’s a terrible habit and satoru has scolded you for years about it.

“hi,” you mutter, pushing past his larger frame.

the man isn’t as nicely built as the men you know (but then again, your friends are jujutsu sorcerers, so it’s kind of hard to beat that), but he still towers over you. he’s got a squad of rough-looking guys behind him, smirking down at you.

“why’s someone like you alone?” he says, shoving his arm to loop around your waist.

you roll your eyes, getting ready to punch the man square in the nose. will you get in trouble? probably yes. will it be a funny story to tell? also probably yes.

“don’t touch my wife.”

the group of men turn their heads along with you to see megumi. his expression is shrouded with a mixture of anger and frustration. you blink in confusion—megumi usually looks pretty pissed off, but this is the most angry you’ve seen him in a while. and ‘wife’? what’s up with that?

“oh, my bad,” the man chuckles. “didn’t know this pretty thing was married.”

“this ‘pretty thing’ wants you to let her go,” you say with an overly sweet smile. your teeth clench and you hiss, “right now.”

the guy scurries down the sidewalk with his buddies trailing along, making fun of him for hitting on a married woman. nobody mentions the lack of a ring on your finger. nobody mentions the lack of a relationship, either.

“wife?” you scowl. “we’re broken up.”

“guys tend to back up when they know a woman is married. it’s the only way you can really, uh, get them to go away around here.”

you glare at him. “and how would you know? you come here often with girls?”

“...no?” he blinks, unable to comprehend your sudden burst of jealousy. “i sometimes get missions around here, though. pretending to be married was the easiest way—”

“we aren’t, though. we’re not even in a relationship.” you seem to be throwing that into his face a lot more than you should. you can’t help it, though. you still feel a little bitter about not getting a real reason as to why megumi wanted to break up.

“i was trying to help you.” he’s calm and collected, as heard through his voice. he walks up to you and takes your freezing hand into his much warmer ones. “let’s go home.”

“i don’t want to,” you argue.

“stop being a brat,” he says, but there’s no bite to his words. “you’re cold and you’ve been out here all day. if i hadn’t stopped those guys, you probably would’ve beat them up pretty badly.”

“i’m not a fucking brat!” you try to retract your hand, but megumi’s grip only tightens.

“baby, stop,” the pet name rolls off his tongue with ease. megumi sighs softly and pulls you to his chest. “why are you so worked up, hm?”

from the way he speaks, you can tell that he already has an inkling. the breakup. cuddling last night. hugging you now. everything.

you don’t realize you’re crying until he gently wipes his thumb under your eye. he has the audacity to have an amused grin plastered on his stupidly pretty lips. your vision is blurry but if it hadn’t been, you would’ve thrown a punch.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair. “it’s all my fault.”

“it is,” you whimper pathetically. all the tears and the emotions you’ve been holding back bubble up to the surface.

“don’t be upset,” he almost pleads. “let’s go back, okay?”

the night ends with megumi on the couch. neither of you bring up the argument or the fact that he had slept in your bed with you last night. you two don’t talk about the usage of pet names, either.

when you open your eyes on december 22nd, you’re surprised to see that megumi has already headed out for the day. you click your tongue in annoyance—he’s always been good at avoiding his problems when it comes to dealing with them, especially problems involving his emotions. you already know where you’re supposed to be headed, so you suppose that it’s for the best that he’d left before you.

the shopping mall is a long line of vendors and stores among other things. the snow on the ground is fresh—it must’ve snowed late last night after you’d fallen asleep. it crunches underneath your beat-up sneakers with each step you take. you’re not shocked when you end up wandering aimlessly, dipping in and out of stores with no real urgency to finish your mission.

there’s nothing to do anyway.

you’ve killed about 3 curses total and it’s really starting to look like you’ve been sent out here for busy work. you really should’ve figured that out the first day of the mission when you had to practically beg the curses to come out and fight you.

you find yourself in the front of a jewelry store, eyeing a pretty bracelet that you know would look stunning around megumi’s wrist. it’s one of those bracelets that clasp tightly. there’s a thicker band in the center with pretty carvings that seem to resemble some sort of swirly heart. it’s pretty, you have to admit.

without much thought, you buy the gift.

the seller has to clear her throat to get your attention when you don’t answer her question. “um, would you like this to be wrapped?”

you nod absentmindedly. “oh, yes. sorry. please wrap it.”

she nods in return and proceeds to wrap the bracelet in a tiny box, adorning it with a festive bow. you ask her to change it out for a different color, explaining that it isn’t a christmas gift and instead, it’s for someone’s birthday. she offers you a warm smile before switching it with a muted blue ribbon.

you return to the hotel, having to take an expensive taxi. you don’t mind—the bracelet has already made a decent-sized dent in your wallet. why not spend an extra amount on getting home? it’s not like jujutsu sorcerers are paid poorly.

reality hits you when you finally get back to the hotel room. you want to punch yourself for being so stupid. did you really just buy a birthday present for your ex-boyfriend?

you’re thankful that megumi hasn’t arrived yet. he seems to be determined to avoid you for as long as he can. you can’t blame him, either. you did give him quite a hard time yesterday.

you toss the box on to the dresser and head to the bathroom to splash some much needed cold water on to your face. maybe that’ll wake you up enough to clear your mind. you’ve acted out once during this trip already and you’re not really looking forward to any other possible outbursts.

you rinse your face and pat yourself dry with one of the face towels provided to you by the hotel staff. you hang it over the rack again and tiredly make your way to your bed. you halt your movements when you see megumi standing by the dresser, admiring your gift.

he looks up at you in surprise with the smallest grin on his face. it’s so subtle that you would’ve missed it had you not been dating him for nearly two years.

“is this for me?”

“no,” you quickly deny. his face falls and you cough out, “um, i mean.. yeah. i-i didn’t… i… happy birthday.”

he brightens, lips pulling up into a real, genuine smile. “you remembered?”

“why wouldn’t i?” you blurt gently. you bite your inner cheek to stop yourself from saying anything more.

“i dunno.” his voice is distant and low, like he’s trying to hold back his tears. “i just…i didn’t think i was deserving of a gift from you. thank you. i like it.”

you stand awkwardly, shifting your weight onto your other foot. “yeah, well…”

“can you help me put it on?” he asks, sitting at the edge of your unmade bed.

you feel your body heat up. part of you screams for you to stop. you shouldn’t do that. it’s far too intimate and you two are broken up. you’ve never been good at making decisions, though, so you sit next to him and feel the mattress dip.

he gives you a grateful look, one that you willfully ignore, and gives you his wrist. you clasp the bracelet on, fingertips just barely grazing his skin. your heart skips a beat and you have to inhale sharply before pulling away.

“thank you,” he whispers.

december 23rd is a sore reminder that life goes on. you had half-expected something to spark between you and megumi. perhaps he’d beg for you back, or maybe with less wishful thinking, he’d give you his real reason as to why he doesn’t want you anymore.

“i don’t think we need to go anymore,” megumi says when you come out of the bathroom after freshening up.

“huh? why not?”

“there’s nothing out there.” megumi’s voice is flat.

“i know, but we’ll get in trouble if we…”

“gojo probably sent us out here for fun.”

your lips part. megumi turns to you with a slight frown.

“don’t you think so too?” he asks, but you know it isn’t a question he’s looking to find an answer to. “why would the higher-ups assign a mission like this to a special grade sorcerer and a grade 1 sorcerer? if they needed that much manpower, this mission would’ve been deadlier. instead, we’re playing cleanup crew.”

“yeah, but..” you trail off, unable to think of a statement to refute his words. “if we go back now, we’ll get chewed out.”

“it’s just a scolding. you’ll be fine.” megumi stands up and stretches his arms.

you watch him cautiously as he begins to fold his clothes and throw them into his duffel bag. he doesn’t say anything else, letting the silence overtake the room.

“...are we leaving, then?” you ask meekly, not bothering to hide the slight quiver in your voice.

he pauses slightly. “do you want to stay here until christmas? this mission is stupid and you know it. there’s no point.”

why is his tone so cold all of the sudden? it’s as if you two hadn’t shared a moment last night before bed. does your gift not mean anything to him now that he’s cleared his mind with a good rest?

your eyes flicker to his wrist. the gold glimmers underneath the light and you realize that megumi doesn’t seem to hate wearing it. so why is he acting so … unpleasant?

you feel a lump in your throat. it’s embarrassing how quickly he’s able to upset you from just the tone of his voice. even his body language, usually fluid and smooth, is rigid with your presence. you want to tell him that you’ve enjoyed your time with him. you want to shake his shoulders and tell him that if you two cut your mission short, you might not get another chance to be near him again.

“do you still care about me?” you whisper instead.

he stills completely. “what?”

“this entire time,” you begin shakily, “you’ve been nice to me. you treat me like you always do. you’re always hovering over me even though you pretend you aren’t! you obviously still care, megumi.”

his adam's apple bobs as swallows. a beat of silence. then two. then three.

“i do care,” he admits sorely.

“then why did you break up with me?” you blurt. there it is, the question you’ve been meaning to ask. you both had seen it coming.

“because…” megumi winces as if he’s the one getting hurt from the ordeal. “because you deserve someone that’s normal. someone that isn’t a sorcerer. i can’t give you that life.”

you feel your chest swarm with anger. why does he always think he needs to sabotage himself to make others happy? this is something you’ve tried working with him on, but it seems like old habits are hard to kill off, just like your habit of loving him.

“why the hell would you decide that for me? when did i ever say i wanted a normal life?” you snap. your hands clench at your sides.

“it’s too early for this,” he says, his voice straining as he finally musters up the strength to look at you in your eyes.

“tell me, megumi. if that’s the real reason, then that is the most pathetic excuse for a breakup i've ever heard.” your voice cracks and you gulp down the oncoming sob that’s threatening to explode from your throat.

he inhales slowly and makes his way to you, holding you close against his chest. you should push him away, but you would rather let him hug you. you know that you can’t fight him, anyway.

“you…once said you wanted a regular relationship. when you got hurt a few weeks ago, i realized i couldn’t be that for you,” he confesses lowly. “i knew that you’d never find it in yourself to leave, so i figured i should just let you go for your sa–”

“are you kidding me?” you shout incredulously. “i said that when i was fifteen, megumi! before i even knew what being in love was like!”

he flinches against you. “but i…”

“you and your damn savior complex! i don’t need to be in a regular, normal relationship! i don’t need any of that, megumi! i’m a sorcerer, I won't ever get to be normal! in fact, it’s even better that i’m with you because you at least know what this life is like, you idiot! you’re always ruining the good things in your life because you—”

he takes his fingers to grab your chin and he pulls you in for a kiss. if the kiss is a ploy to shut you up, you hate to admit that it’s working. his tongue slips into your mouth and you melt against him. your arms loop around his neck as you desperately drag him down closer to your body. his hand grip your waist while the other clings to the small of your back.

you whimper out of instinct and he pulls away, lips bruised and breathless. it’s been so long since you’ve tasted him and you frown, tiptoeing to capture his lips again. you need to savor him, to feel him lips against yours again.

“baby, wait.” his chest heaves as he looks down at you. “don’t…don’t do this to me.”

“do what?” you ask, an edge to your voice. did he just reject you? even after all that?

“w-we gotta report back to—”

“we’re supposed to leave tomorrow,” you interrupt.

the gears shift in his head. “fine, but—”

“i’m still really fucking mad, but i just need you to kiss me right now,” you whine impatiently.

all megumi does is laugh when he swoops down to press his lips against yours.

it’s december 24th when you two find yourselves in satoru’s office. steam is practically rising from your ears as you try to compose yourself in front of your former teacher.

“... i wanted a wedding invitation.” satoru shrugs.

“you set us up!” you whine angrily. “gojo, are you serious?! isn’t this a little immature?”

megumi stays silent, averting his gaze. he suddenly finds the succulents on satoru’s desk very interesting. he’s never noticed that they’re all nearly dead! how cool.

your eyes shoot daggers at megumi's silence.

"we aren't gonna get married any time soon..." megumi mutters when he feels your pointy glare on him.

satoru raises his hands in mock surrender. “you two can’t blame me! it worked out! you two are back together now, right?”

“but did you have to make us look like fools out there?” you groan.

“you should’ve figured it out on the first day that the mission was a sham!” satoru exclaims, offense taking over his features.

“but still!” you’re borderline hysterical at this point, unable to believe that your former teacher of all people had to set up an entire fake mission so that you and your ex could talk your feelings out. “we would’ve figured ourselves out sooner or later!”

megumi nods. he feels like he should at least give you a little support even if he’s embarrassed out of his mind.

“oh really?” satoru’s voice drips with sarcasm. “you guys should be thanking me—”

“you’re so not getting an invitation to our wedding!” you grumble.

“wha—hey! i’m the one that got you two back together! besides, i’m megumi’s guardian! you can’t just not invite me.”

“watch me!”

“megumi, tell her that she can’t do that—hey! where are you guys going? invite me, you rascals—why are you guys leaving? we aren’t done discussing this! megumi, don’t you dare take her side! she isn’t even your wife yet—don’t slam my door!”

[crowleyholmes]

Hello friends, lovers, hereditary enemies, and fellow Good-Omens-brain-rot-afflicted!

Inspired by some lengthy conversations and the need for reassurance regarding a renewal for season 3, the lovely Eena @michaelsheens and I have decided to start a little Project!

(Sorry, Crowley, we had to…)

THE NICE AND ACCURATE PROPHECIES* WEEK

Running from SEPTEMBER 25TH to OCTOBER 1ST, it’s all themed around season 3 and the assumption we’re gonna get that renewal. (Manifesting, baby.)

✨ THE PLAN ✨

Every day will focus on a theme around which everyone who wants to participate is encouraged to create any kind of content they want to! Art, fanfic, edits, playlists, speculation, meta, go nuts!

(Also please don’t worry if something doesn’t fit neatly into a day’s theme; they’re only meant to give somewhat of a prompt and structure. Ultimately it’s not that strict and serious, we just wanna see your stuff :))

✨ HOW TO PARTICIPATE ✨

Share whatever your big heart and massive brain comes up with and use the tag #gomensnaap

(It’s like a long nap or something.)

You’re also welcome to give shoutouts to other people’s work you love and want to celebrate, but please make sure to link and credit properly (!!!)

Most importantly: have fun <3

✨ THEMES ✨

(under the cut)

DAY 1: “And there will be great lamentations.”

Let’s talk the Second Coming! We start off and warm up with everything plot-related. Theories, meta, crack ideas, let’s hear your thoughts on where you think the Big Main Plot is going to go!

DAY 2: “I can make a difference!”

For day two, let’s focus on Aziraphale’s arc in season 3. Did he go to Heaven with a plan? Or is he winging it? (Pun only somewhat intended.) Was he threatened or manipulated or both or neither? Will he tell Heaven just where they can stick it or can he actually succeed? What’s in store for our favorite angel?

DAY 3: “Hated by Heaven, loathed by Hell. How will our hero cope?”

Day three is all about Crowley and what we think he’s going to get up to. Is he going to go drink himself senseless and have a good cry? Go snek and hybernate for a bit? Hang out with Muriel and do some tempting? Does he have a plan and how will he cope being on his own?

DAY 4: “There was magic abroad in the air…”

Let’s talk Ineffable Husbands! How are Crowley and Aziraphale going to resolve things between them? Will there be a massive fight? Radio silence for days/weeks/months/years? Will they learn to Actually COmmunicate? Will there be grudges, grand gestures, secret meetings, a big rescue mission from either side?

DAY 5: “Extreme sanctions.”

On day six we wanna make ourselves anxious, sad and upset. (As one does.) What thing that may or may not happen in season 3 are you most worried about? Dark/depressed/evil/etc Crowley? Memory-wiped/brain-washed/archangel Aziraphale? Book of Life? How could Neil & Co hurt us the most?

DAY 6: “Do you…want a hot chocolate?”

After day 5’s spiral, it’s time for a metaphorical treat. What are you most looking forward to in season 3? What do you really want to see? Headcanons coming true? Scenes you wish for? Things that’ll make you wanna name your cat/dog/fish/insert other pet here Neil Richard Gaiman or Sir Terence David John Pratchett?

DAY 7: “It’s starts, as it will end, with a garden.”

Finally, to finish it all up, let’s speculate about the end of season 3. How do you think we’ll leave this story? Will things just go back to how they’ve always been? Will there be peace? Earth hidden from Heaven and Hell with a big 500 Lazarii miracle? Aziraphale and Crowley turned human? Or will they get their cottage in the South Downs for the rest of eternity?

[stagefoureddiediaz]

I will just be over here screaming until the end of time (and not just because this is a beautiful shot!)

I am trying not to read into this set too much - because it was clearly filmed during the s7 filming (its Eddies old living room rug - hes changed to a striped one now!)- but man is it hard!! Also that red Persian rug is very heavily tied to Eddie‘s wife and his girlfriends.

It’s very interesting to note that that red Persian rug first appears when Shannon comes back and has now left the moment Marisol has gone and the moment Eddie vocalised to Kim his internal struggles and unresolved feelings around Shannon and her request for a divorce. The thing is Persian rugs are very tied to the concept of status and history and they’re quite symbolic, particularly in western culture, of family and familial expectations (I need to write a matter on the history of the Persian rug and it’s meaning in western Society but that will have to wait till hiatus but basically they were expensive and therefore handed down through the family and became attached to the concept of upholding family values) so there is this idea that Eddie‘s Persian rug is about him conforming to society and familial expectations i.e. marriage before children and being a family - divorce being a bad thing, as well as heteronormativity.

The fact it’s now been changed to stripes - which are heavily connected to the Buckley-Diaz family dynamic, and specifically to Chris, and the concept of change being brought about by struggle or danger. A few examples of this or the fact that Chris is wearing stripes at the beach when Shannon tells Eddie she thinks she’s pregnant, we also see Chris and stripes during the tsunami, Chris‘s room is heavily striped with rug bedding and curtains, he’s wearing stripes in the lead up to Eddie‘s breakdown in season five. We also see him in stripes in the build up to the shooting. With the connection to the Buckley-Diaz dynamic - these are all moments that ultimately strengthen the bond - making the family unit stronger. So Eddie striped rug is suggesting to me that the Buckley-Diaz family unit will become even stronger when they get through this current arc (I mean that’s saying Buddie Canon very loudly to me but I’m a clown so take or leave that as you wish!)

Hello gut stuff still being up on Eddies fridge I desperately need to know if it’s actually still there in s8 filming time!

Plus boxing gloves hanging on the wall above the yoga mat - I see you reference to fighting and to finding inner calm. Eddie fighting - fighting to get Chris to talk to him - to tell him things - to be open with him. Fighting to be a father. But doing it in a calm and measured way - moving through the sequence like one does in yoga.

But its actually the sitting on the coffee table of it all that I am screaming the most loudly about - that is a choice - its a place we see him sit when he talks to Chris when things are serious - think when Chris is playing video games late at night and Eddie finds him and they talk, think when Eddie spills hot chocolate over the gingerbread house and Chris throws the house to the ground - both times Eddie sits on the table - he’s also sat on that same table when he asks Buck to try and talk Chris out of leaving (wearing the same shirt I might add!!). So this Eddie sitting on the table is very much connected to difficult parental moments for Eddie - moments when he is super respectful of Chris (hell even the Marisol phone call at the end of s6 plays into this theme - Chris being included in Eddies potential romantic relationship from the start - the lesson learnt from the Ana of it all and showing Eddie is holding open dialogue with Chris), of Chris’s wishes. It’s indicative of the idea that Eddie will be patient with Chris, but he will eventually win out - and that they will be stronger for it as father and son.

Interestingly Bobby also sits on that coffee table - when he talks to Eddie in the aftermath of him smashing up his room - when Bobby is doing a similar thing to Eddie as Eddie does with Chris - supportive but strong and firm right down to the use of same maroon/burgundy for the ‘parents’ shirt.

Right Eddie house screaming done - now on to screaming about Chris on my next post!

[intothedysphoria]

Since we’re on the subject of dom billy… what’s his aftercare situation? Are there any rituals he has to do with Steve? How does Steve give aftercare back?

With most subs, Billy is primarily focused on making sure they’ve had food/water, blood circulation is ok and they are feeling emotionally grounded again (usually through cuddles) but Steve needs a far more set routine.

Once they stop the scene, Steve wants a hot chocolate. So Billy will turn on both the kettle and a warm bath. He usually likes having the hot drink in the bathroom and listening to Billy’s “dad music” (Billy likes 1970s punk). Steve likes to get into his pyjamas afterwards and they watch Love Island because “it’s about the arc Billy.” By the end, Steve is generally asleep and just needs to be held for a little bit to fully come down.

Steve makes sure Billy has his nicotine gum, because the process of weaning him off cigarettes is a hard one. Mostly Billy just likes to be talked to. He’s got some serious abandonment issues and internalises him wanting to dom as some sort of character defect on his bad days. So Steve makes sure he knows he’s loved and that Steve enjoyed himself too.

[mxplesyrvp]

`•*ੈ💭`‧₊˚— whimsical whites and baby blues | feat. gojo satoru.

* ˚💭‧₊˚ synopsis — satoru thinks its dangerous for you to love him so much but he still can't help but be a little selfish, which scares him. however, you would stop at nothing to keep loving him either, even if it cost you your life.

⚘ word count + genre — 1.13k || hurt/comfort

⚘ warnings — spoilers + set in gojo's past arc, established relationship, a lot of internal monologue, less dialogue + more feels, mentions of death, very self-indulgent, not beta read. || gn!reader.

⚘ notes! — finally getting into writing after a long time and it's my first time writing for gojo! please be kind <33

you never knew that stars could taste like fractured dreams until you kissed him.

on most days, his kisses taste like clear blue skies —whimsical and full of wonder— stealing your breath with the secrets they held. but on other days, they were simple and delightful like clouds of cotton candy, each kiss a swirl of sugary sweetness. sometimes they were akin to cups of hot chocolate on a winter's night, comforting you with an embrace. other times, they tasted like stolen pancakes, crisp at the edges and soft in the centre, dipped in honey as they left a trail of golden warmth in their wake.

but now when your lips touched his, the only thing you could taste were stars so broken they had forgotten how to shine. they tasted like lost ambition, burning desperation and the hopelessness of being left alone yet again. it felt like the pleading of a worshipper whose God had left His shrine; like the silence of a lover who had had his heart broken.

when it came to gojo satoru, he liked to think that no force in the world could ever rival his strength. but this time, he had been brought down to his knees, his heart bloodied and blooming into a bruised flower, all because his God—the light of his life—had stepped over the threshold of his paradise.

even with the weight of the world on his shoulders, satoru loved you as much as you did him, despite death clinging to your lips. but no other feeling could ever compare to what he had for his best friend, geto suguru. and he was gone, taking the keys to the doors he had locked so meticulously with those cursed hands of his, for he believed that gojo could never open them up without him.

"i was starting to get used to the thought that you weren't coming back either," he said, misery sitting heavy on his tongue.

"to be very honest," you said, a small smile pulling the corners of your lips,"i was getting used to it too."

it had been over a month since you were stranded in the nasty domain of the curse you were assigned to exorcize— a hellish paradise you would love to live in had it been a real place, had it not been killing you so slow that you barely ever noticed. hours after you saw through your assignment, you knew of all the things that had transpired in the time you were held off. the assassination of the star plasma vessel, the death of toji fushiguro, geto and his new plan of action— after all, bad news had wings and the winds always favoured them to travel faster.

"i don't think I'll ever get used to this weird feeling," he huffs out, his gaze unfocused, shifting towards the window.

and you, just like always, could no longer tell if his eyes were a reflection of the sky or the sky resided within them. blue, blue, blue— so blue that you could almost see the storm brewing within them. you could tell he was lost in that storm, vulnerability teasing the edges of the surface under which he had buried it.

"what feeling?" you asked quite bluntly, bringing him back to reality.

and those beautiful blue eyes found their way into your weary ones. You would never get over how blue they were or how much you would love to drown in them, until you were that very colour and nothing else was left of you. It was a curious thing to keep guessing how much depth those eyes held and once again your mind was splintered between deciding whether they were more akin to the ocean than the skies.

"the feeling of being left behind like this," he said, the pain behind each word so pronounced that even you could feel it. "it's like almost everyone i'm associated with is always driven to the edge. they distance themselves or just....die. i'm afraid that one of these days, i might cause you to leave as well."

this time, you couldn't help but snicker a little. if you were to count the number of times you made memories with gojo, you'd find that most of them were nightmares. but even in those you could find buds of hope; because nightmares were dreams too. dreams were hopeful little things. and they were the heart's favourite delicacies for which it hungered so relentlessly.

it was a given there was no safe place in the world for people like you. people like you who carried angels within your hearts and demons in your blood, who were often brought down by that which you hunted, who carried battles in your fingertips, in every breath and every heartbeat— there was no place safer than this one for you. it was a daunting thing to love someone in a world like that, where every breath you drew could be your last. but brutal was the heart which fed on love and it would stop at nothing to want more of that feeling.

"there's no way I would ever leave on my own," you said, smiling through your teeth, "even death will be a small price to pay. he pales in comparison to what I have with you, satoru."

"and you, kind of need a hug," you added more as an afterthought to lighten the mood a little.

gojo wasted no time to pull you into him, both his hands snaking around your waist and his face buried in the crook of your neck. he smelled like caramel and citrus as usual, his breath soft and frosty hair tickling your skin.

you knew better than most humans that you did not have all the time in the world. if death wanted you, he would find you even if you tried to hide from him. but for now, it was helpless against the sun inside of gojo. the sun within him didn't shine like early morning warm rays but it burned like wildfire. it burned so golden that it was almost white, scorching your heart in the process. and he still believed that he was safe— safe enough to love you and for you to love as well.

he knew very well that the sun inside him could burn the world, but he still looked at you like you were his undoing, he still held you like he wanted you to love him. and to love him was to face the wildfire inside him— to burn with him.

at that moment, you wish you could have a conversation with death. if you could, then you would look it in the eyes and say something you knew would make death's heart stop.

"if you want me, then find me in the ashes."

© mxplesyrvp, since 2022, all rights reserved. Do not copy, repost, modify or translate without permission.

[amongemeraldclouds]

better than revenge | alt chapter: one last cigarette

Toxic!Ex!Mattheo Riddle x f!Reader

Chapter summary: Just when you were ready to leave the past behind, the very person you're trying to escape shows up. 949 words.

Author’s note: Final upload for this series! Wrote this back in March, but it took me forever to post because it's hard to officially say goodbye to the series but here we are.

This chapter is not canon. The main story line officially ended with the previous chapter. This one is just an alternate ending I wrote when I was trying to figure out what to do with Mattheo’s story arc and I like how it turned out. Ex!Mattheo isn’t very popular in this story and for good reason. In the end, I couldn’t write this ending without him being toxic!Mattheo so be warned.

This chapter contains angst and a bit of angry sex so 18+ only below the cut. It was hard writing this because the tone has been mostly fluff, but you can’t really have an ex!story without the heartbreak.

series masterlist | previous chapter | main masterlist

A rude awakening

A/N: This is the final flashback with yours and Mattheo’s story.

“I love you, Mattheo,” I whisper against his ear as the first rays of sunlight filter through the window. 

Mattheo wonders what he did to deserve her affection. Breathing here in between slumber and the waking world, his defenses dwindle. The thoughts he long kept at bay claws its way to the surface. 

He is the dark lord’s son. He was always fated to ruin everything and everyone he loved. If he didn’t hurt her now, he would in the future.

It was easier, kinder even, to let her go now.

So he did what he knew best.

The last cigarette

A/N: Timeline wise, this takes place before chapter seven. In this alt timeline, you and Enzo never attend the ball.

I inhale the cigarette smoke, letting it fill my lungs, and exhale. One last cigarette for Mattheo. Once I snuff it out, I’m letting him go.

A week after we broke up, grief came in waves. I’d do well in class and get excited to show Mattheo before I remember I no longer could. I’d see his favorite food at the Great Hall and turn, but he wasn’t beside me. I’d snuggle in bed and wait for him to climb in, but he no longer did. How did I keep forgetting?

How did I keep remembering?

I remembered one evening how smoking helped him relax. Maybe it could help me too.

All it did was make me smell like him and I clung on because it was the closest I could get to him. 

But here, now, one last smoke then I'll let him go. I inhale and think of twinkling night skies, when Mattheo and I pretended we were floating among the stars. The way they reflected his eyes.

I remember hot chocolate and croissants, snuggling by the fireplace. He complained about my chocolate flavored kisses. Deep down, I knew he loved them.

I recall his fire. Hair pulling, lips crashing, back scratching. The way his touch seared my soul.

And it was good for a while. I exhale and watch it all drift away in the night wind.

I inhale and recall that night. Begging him to stay, to talk to me, we could work it out. Instead he said he got bored. Instead he kissed her.

And oh. Love really did leave you hollow when it left. I exhale and watch the smoke disappear.

I inhale and—

“I thought you liked your lungs?” Mattheo asks, approaching me.

“Don’t talk to me like you know me.”

He stands beside me, eyes searching my face. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“It’s a little too late now, isn’t it? What the fuck, Mattheo? I’m with Enzo and suddenly you care about me?”

“I’ve always cared, please—” he tries.

“You had three weeks to find me, Mattheo. To apologize. But you didn’t. I’m not some trophy you can take from Enzo just so you can score another point against him!”

He recoils, hurt in his eyes. “Do you really think that little of me?”

“Have you forgotten what you’ve done?” I ask.

“If I could take it back, I would.”

“You promised you wouldn’t hurt me,” I accuse him.

“What do you want me to say?” He asks, exasperated. “I’m an idiot! I messed up. I never felt like I was good enough for you.”

“No Matty, you don’t understand,” I point to him, a tear escaping. “You made me feel like I wasn’t good enough!”

My tears spill and his eyes water. He pulls me in his arms as I sob.

“You don’t get to hurt me and cry as if you’re the victim,” I say.

“Angel, please, I didn’t mean to” he shifts so he can look into my eyes and wipe my tears. “If words are not enough,” he kisses me.  

My lips are electrified, everything inside me burning. Needing, hating, mourning. I want to scream, instead I suck his lower lip hard enough to bruise and grip his hair. It earns me a grunt as he hauls my body to his, closing the gap between us.

His hand trails down my waist to press me where he needs me most. Moving against each other, friction and heat sparking embers within. And it’s still not enough.

Without leaving my lips, Mattheo turns us around. Hands locked around his neck, eyes closed, I follow his footsteps until I feel the wall behind me. His hand snakes under my skirt, caressing my thigh. A filthy moan leaves my mouth—begging, praying, craving. More.

He moves his finger where I’m most sensitive and I gasp, breaking our kiss. He brings his mouth to my ear, “I’ll show you just how sorry I am.” With his free hand, he tugs my hair until I’m staring at the stars, and runs his tongue from the base of my throat to my chin.

Muscle memory takes over as his fingers slide across my folds, knowing just where I needed him. My breathing gets ragged when he fills me up with his fingers, exploiting all the ways he can make me moan and whimper. “Fuck. I missed you, angel.”

I ride his fingers, hating his stupid voice and his messy hair.

He bites my neck, leaving marks and I hate his filthy mouth.

He moves relentlessly. I hate his eyes. I hate his hands. I hate his voice.

I burn until I’m overcome with white hot rage, coming undone for him. Shockwaves of pleasure writhe through me as he presses me for all I have.

A second before afterglow, in the quiet darkness, I hate myself most because I still love him. 

“Come on angel, I’m not done apologizing,” he says, taking my hand, leading me to my dorm.

I never get to finish my cigarette.

series masterlist | previous chapter | main masterlist

A/N: If there was a quote for you and Mattheo in this series, exploring your past relationship, it would be:

"The love was there. It didn't change anything. It didn't save anyone...but it still matters that the love was there."

Thanks again to everyone who followed the series! ♡

Taglist: @hoeforvinniehackerrr @i-think-you-are-gr8 @thecraziestcrayon @adreamingpendulum @themarauderswife7 @midsoulz @ultramarinetovelvet @val-writes @lafrone @daisiesformylove @mildly-delulu @allebasi05 @enha-stan @skb4000 @nat1221 @s0urw00lf @helpimhopelesslyinlove @helendeath @optimisticsandwichgladiator

[starkittnd93]

Saw the posts of the Hot Chocolate and now I'm sad. We need to make Hikari feel better and all I can think of is just him getting an Octopuff plush. I don't know in the modern or just in canon but plushes make things better. You can hug them and sometimes if you're feeling spicy you can make the most dramatic storyline ever with a plush penguin and a octopuff plush.

Bruh this hot chocolate thing is becoming a whole thing lmfao maybe I should make it a tag lmfao

but damn this idea is so ;-; <3 hikari deserves good things fr

Akxbjksbdkjhdkjdhjkc there was also a bit I wanted to draw where Temenos and Hikari made the penguin plushie and the octopuff plushie get married (Temenos being the officiant lmao) and right after the plushies kissed, Shadow Hikari took over and made the octopuff plushie kill the penguin plushie (aka smack it out of Temenos’s hand-) and say “HehehehHHAHAHA the throne is MINE!!!!”

Temenos goes “Oh dear…”, and there’s an awkward silence as Hikari snaps out of it.

Hikari’s like “I’m sorry, that was-” before Temenos cuts him off and says

“Nonono, this makes for an interesting plot!”

Buuut I got too tired :,D

[loupy-mongoose]

Warning: This part contains discussion of Pokemon abuse and neglect, as well as the general topic of death.

Edit: I didn't realize when I posted that this part is kinda long, so I'mma slap a Read More on it.

PREVIOUS NEXT

ARC START | CHRONO

Lavender stared in shock at the man who'd approached her.

It was him.

The man she'd seen in the articles online.

The man she'd seen in Nico's dream vision.

Fuji...

The man tilted his head a bit. Ah, so you've heard of me. I'm guessing you've read about the orphanage online?

I, uh...

Lav had no idea how she would begin speaking to him, let alone broach the subject that drove her to this moment.

I... I...

She hugged herself, shivering. Her mind and emotions were spent.

Fuji's concerned look grew deeper. Easy, there. Easy. What's troubling you? Maybe we can work it out.

She could feel his genuine concern for her wash off of him, and her own loneliness and regret crashed over her. She asked him in a timid, shaky voice, can I have a hug?

His eyebrow rose, but he smiled warmly at her. Of course! If it'll help!

She charged into his arms almost before he could open them wide enough. Oh how she missed this feeling of being safe in a pair of arms...

So what's got you so upset? Or is it something too personal to tell a stranger like myself?

Uh...

His voice lowered to just above a whisper. Your family isn't mistreating you, are they? I can help get you out if they are.

At that Lav pushed away from him, waving her arms. No no no no, nothing like that! I-I'm sad because I left them... And I wish I hadn't... I came here looking for someone, but... She wiped her eyes for the hundredth time since she'd taken off. It was a rash decision and I wish I could go back...

I can help with that too. Fuji smiled again. Where do they live? I'll do what I can to get you back to them!

Lav gripped at her elbows, biting her lower lip. Should I tell him? How much would it give away...?

How much will I need to give away...?

She took a quiet breath and answered. Paldea.

Paldea... He became thoughtful. That's a long ways away from here... You came here on your own?

Lav nodded, rocking slightly back and forth. All the warnings she'd heard from her parents flashed through her mind, almost making her feel sick again.

Finally she gripped her jacket sleeves and took a deep breath. Listen, Mr. Fuji, there's something I wanted to talk to you about. But... not in the open.

The gentle man lowered his brows questioningly.

I-I know that sounds weird... But... C-can we go to your house? And talk in private?

Fuji's face creased in confusion, but he shrugged. Alright. I'm all ears. Maybe I can offer you a drink to calm your nerves? Coffee, tea, hot coco?

Lav smiled widely at the sound of that. Ooo, yes please! Hot chocolate! Please!

Fuji chuckled as he turned to go and motioned for her to follow. A sweet tooth, huh? No problem!

Hey, I never got your name.

She gave a shy laugh, well recognizing how this might sound to him. It's, uh... Lavender, actually. Lavender Linden.

Hah!! Oh dear, it might be a little hard for my old brain to remember that one. His voice oozed with joyful sarcasm, and Lav felt herself warming up to him.

You can call me Lav if it's too much for you~

Lav. That sounds lovely. He chuckled softly. It's nice to meet you, Lav.

Lav smiled, finally feeling a sense of comfort for the first time since leaving home.

It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Fuji.

The pink Mew carefully peered down into the cliffs surrounding the purple-hued town. It was too far away to make out distinct people. But where his eyes failed him, his senses gave him hope.

I feel her.

He looked at Akoya. They're eyes passed the message without use of words or mind. They flew down to discuss with Persim what the next step would be.

Oooooh, look at themmm!!

Lav looked into a pen containing several little land-dwelling Pokemon. Ratattas, Growlithes, Nidorans, and Mankeys, and others mingled together. Some were missing eyes and limbs.

So you take in orphaned Pokemon and take care of them?

Fuji smiled softly, but with a sad gleam in his eyes. Orphans, injured, sick... Trainers will often bring in Pokemon, either their own or ones that they've found in their travels. It's sad when they're mistreated, but I like to think we offer a little bit of hope and comfort for those in need.

Lav watched a few Ratattas running together, including a dark colored one that had a set of wheels attached to its back legs. She pointed to it. What happened to the Alolan one there?

A Karate Chop went too far. HP shields will only protect so much. Fuji sighed. Her trainer pushed her to fight beyond her limits--against a Machop, no less--and she paid the price. And of course her trainer left her for dead because she couldn't fight anymore.

A lot of the Pokemon in our care have similar stories. I swear, trainers who don't bother learning type matchups drive me up a wall! Just because they're protected from elemental attacks doesn't mean the protection lasts or is perfect every time! And when the shields fail, it can fail spectacularly.

Lav thought about her dad's journey as a trainer through Sinnoh, as well as her own dream of doing her own journey. She had to venture a question. D... Do you feel that way about all trainers?

Absolutely not. There are plenty of good trainers out there, and I adore them. I want to support those ones however I can! And of course trainers will make mistakes. Sometimes mistakes that will cost a life, unfortunately... As long as there are Pokemon trainers, that will continue to happen. But that alone doesn't make one a bad trainer.

And the sad thing is, it's those trainers who suffer most from their mistakes. The ones who throw away the dead or injured, they move on to the next victim with nary a backward glance. But when a loving trainer loses...

He sighed again, leaning on the fence. It's heartbreaking, really. All the trainers who feel like they failed because of their losses, when in reality those are the best of the best. They don't realize that in taking a path of love, they've taken the hard path. Grief is the price we pay for love, after all, and sometimes in can bankrupt trainers...

Suddenly he leaned back. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to get sad on you! I see both ends of it, so I have trouble keeping them apart sometimes. I hope you can forgive my morbid rambling...

Of course. Lav smiled morosely. ...I can tell you pay that price a lot...

Fuji met her eyes with warmth. Yeah... Yeah. It's not always an easy job... But it is my greatest love. And grief is a price I'm willing to pay for it.

PREVIOUS NEXT

ARC START | CHRONO

This makes me want to do a Nuzlocke. XD

[verydeadaten]

Sleep

Nora: Hey Jaune? Could you give me and Ren the room for the night?

Jaune: Yeah sure. I'll just room with Ruby for the night.

Nora: *glomps him* Thanks Jaune-Jaune! You're the best!

After getting Nora off of him, Jaune walks to Ruby's room.

Jaune: *knock knock knock*

Ruby: *opening the door* Oh, hey Jaune!

Jaune: Hey. Uh, is it alright if I room with you and Weiss for the night? Nora and Ren want the room for themselves.

Ruby: Sorry Jaune, me and Oscar are having our movie night/sleep over today.

Oscar: *on Ruby's bed* Hi Jaune.

Jaune: Oh. Where's Weiss?

Ruby: I don't know.

Jaune: Alright. You guys have a good night.

Ruby: You too Jaune! I hope you find somewhere to sleep.

As Jaune walked down the hall, he passed the room where Blake and Yang were sleeping. He was about to knock on the door, but then he started to hear certain... sounds. He wisely decided not to knock on their door.

Maybe he could sleep in Qrow's room? Surely, he wasn't sleeping with anyone. He knocked on his door, only to be greeted by not Qrow, but Winter. Wearing one of Qrow's undershirts.

Winter: ...

Jaune: ...

Winter: Do you need something?

Jaune: No! No, I'm... I'm good. Uhhh, have a nice night.

Winter: I hope you have a nice night as well, Mr. Arc.

Jaune was desparate. There had to be a room somewhere. He walked passed Emerald's room. No. He was desparate, but not that desparate.

Jaune sighed, and went to the kitchen. Maybe he could drown his sorrows in snacks and hot chocolate. But to his surprise, Weiss was there, making coffee.

Jaune: Weiss?

Weiss: *tired* Jaune. Would you like some coffee?

Jaune: No thanks. You couldn't find a room either?

Weiss: No. Every room was occupied. So I've decided to stay up all night.

Jaune: This sucks.

Weiss: Mmhmm.

Jaune:

Jaune:

Jaune: Fuck it.

Weiss: Hmm?

Jaune: I'm getting my sleeping bag, and sleeping on the balcony.

Weiss: That's... Not a bad idea. I'll get mine.

Jaune: Are you sure? It gets pretty cold at night.

Weiss: Please, I'm an Atlesian. I was born into the cold. This will be nothing.

It wasn't nothing. It was freezing. Weiss couldn't stop shivering, and her teeth were starting to chatter. How could a desert be so cold?! She should've brought a jacket, or something. She looked up at the starry night sky.

Weiss: Stupid stars, mocking me with their cold light. Aren't you supposed to be far away suns? Why can't you warm me up like it?

She then looked at Jaune, sleeping next to her. He looked unbothered by the cold. His eyes were closed. He looked warm.

She had an idea.

She poked Jaune in the face.

Weiss: Jaune. Jaune wake up.

Jaune: Hmm? What is it?

Weiss: Combine your sleeping bag with mine.

Jaune: Huh? Why?

Weiss: I'm cold. You're warm. Move. Now.

Jaune: Okay, okay.

They both unzipped their sleeping bags and attached them to each other. Jaune continued sleeping on his back, while Weiss slept with her back to him.

Weiss: *teeth chattering* I'm still cold.

Weiss had another idea.

Weiss turned around, wrapping her arms around Jaune, and laying her head on his chest.

Jaune: W-W-WEISS?!

Weiss: Shut up and hold me.

Jaune: What?

Weiss: Now.

Jaune: A-Alright.

Jaune turned to her, and held her in his arms. Weiss felt much warmer, both from the body heat, and the sheer embarrassment she felt for even having the courage to Jaune to do those things. Any other day, she wouldn't have been able to fall asleep. But now, she was just too tired.

Her eyes started to get heavier. Her last thought of the night was of how warm Jaune was, and how she'd like to feel that warmth again.

Maybe tomorrow, she could ask Jaune if they could sleep on the balcony again?

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hello Ice! I'm very shy right now but I wanted to thank you for the lessons. Your last ones about horror and historical/cultural violence were really good, and hammers home the importance of sensitivity reading (or at the very least, some extra critical thinking.) It was a dense read, but a valuable one. I also like how it tied into multiple branching subjects like redemption/punishment arcs, villain v. antagonist roles, and hurt/comfort scenes.

I'm sorry that it wasn't as popular as other lectures, but it's good work and a necessary challenge for people who want to give their Black characters compelling/life-threatening conflict WITHOUT forgetting about one's potential to do real harm to Black fans impacted by real trauma. It's a lesson I hope to see make more rounds as people give it more thought and consideration. I look forward to your next articulation! Have a good rest of your year, to you and to Hot Chocolate as well.

I appreciate this, I really do. There are a couple of lessons that I feel are a tad more important than the other ones, and that was one of them. Unfortunate. Oh well. I appreciate that you understood the message!

Thank you, and to you as well!

[bizlybebo]

some silly lil doodles/sketches of the riptide bakery au because @s0lar-ch3ri ‘s additions to it made me absolutely lose my mind

(extra rambling + captions transcribed beneath the cut if you can’t read my handwriting!!)

image 1 caption: Jay saying “i don’t wanna talk about it.”

image 2 caption: Gillion saying “I cannot find her, Chip! If she’s not here, and she just finished mixing the batter, I— I fear we have made the greatest mistake!”

Chip saying “No, no, it’s— it’s fine! She’s probably just— right over here!”

Cutaway caption points to Pretzel drinking a cup of tea and says “Absolutely fine”

Image 3 caption: Chip saying “Yeah, so he’s this small boy we keep in the back! And I know what you’re thinking— it actually doesn’t violate any child labor laws! ‘Cause we don’t pay him!”

Caption pointing to Ollie says “was just given 200 mg of caffeine”

Image 4 caption: points to Gillion operating the cash register and says “Has caused irreparable financial damage”

——-

the context for image 2 is cheri’s comment that the equivalent for this au of the pretzel missing arc would be that gill loses track of her and ends up thinking that he somehow baked her into one of the pastries and gets really distraught over it. I adore this idea soso much

i havent seen pd yet but i’d like to imagine william, vincent, and dakota terrorize a nearby grocery store on the regular and so they’re usual customers to the riptide bakery. (cheri’s also the one who thought of pd existing in this au too)

i’m particularly obsessed with the idea that chip accidentally overshares to a customer and gets the cops called on them for having a Small Boy In The Back Who Does Unpaid Labor For Us (they pay him in exorbitant amounts of caffeine that his mother would never allow him to consume)

they let gillion man the register ONCE and the business nearly goes under because he doesn’t understand cash nor card or just. money in general. not only does he give away hundreds of dollars or just throw it up in the air for the cool confetti affect, but he also starts letting people pay with the most random shit that isn’t money, like crunchy leaves off the sidewalk or literal trash. he manages to sell a hot chocolate and a croissant for a weird looking substance that turns out to actually be goobleck