#i just. am always overcompensating for my lack of

[pansyfemme]

i have been a ball of depression lately as well as my physical health worsening pretty severly this past week due to stress and so my friends have been. trying so hard to get me to get out and do things and its very sweet but i feel bad because the whole time i’m just a total mess

[sholmeser]

my transfem raiden vision…walk with me

[velvet-games]

he’s so normal :)

I actually drew this before a lot of the recent stuff I've been posting; it was just me trying to figure out a good redesign for vox. I might make a proper redesign explanation later, but here are some quick notes while I'm still playing with it:

vox trapzod and alastor trongle :)

^^ ok but unironically this was kind of a hard decision since I have mixed feelings about vox's body type

stuff I was considering:

1) vox is alastor's foil and has a similar body type to alastor at least in part because you're supposed to be comparing them (It's actually so cool cause I was watching TB Skyen's reaction to ep 2 and he immediately predicted that they would have beef lol)

2) tumblr sexyman bod <3

3) I LOVE @/bestosunglass' way of drawing him, and it made me realize that I kind of love the idea of vox being a little bigger than alastor? it's very big himbo puppy + lithe cat energy

4) not sure what my headcanons about vox's body are in terms of biological vs tech yet, but I think I want to lean toward tech (which is customizable)

I love the angst concept of vox having the freedom to change his body with relative ease, which makes him feel like he has to constantly update and update and update and update and update and it's never good enough because he could always change something and he'll never quite be good enough--

basically being a victim to his own progress-oriented mindset

and also treating himself like a product; if it's not working, if it's not the best, newest model, then it's broken and useless and disposable

tbh alastor's ability to find beauty and art in the old (not necessarily based on function, but on character and care) would be good for him

ooc or not, as someone with dysmorphia issues myself, I really want an "I like your body because it's yours" moment from alastor

I think all of that + toxic masculinity would probably mean vox would make himself comically buff (at least at first) lol

5) but I like drawing him kinda scrawny ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it's just weird because I kind of want to audience to pick up on the fact that he's not actually hypermasc but vox would totally (mostly successfully) broadcast that to the characters in the show

6) I think a trapezoid is a good shape for him! it contrasts well with alastor being a kind of sly and striking triangle shape. trapezoids are more interesting and dynamic than rectangles, but are still more stiff and business-like than triangles (p sure I am completely misunderstanding shape theory here but it makes sense to me lmao)

vox is such a mess of vibes? like he's a cult leader he's a televangelist he's a hypnotist he's a business shark he's a tech CEO he's a newscaster he's a TV he's a computer he's a literal shark he's a mastermind he's a pathetic fanboy

still not sure which of those is the most important/what should be obvious in his design

obsessed with the concept of TV knobs as buttons but it's kind of old fashioned

I headcanon him as having been a nerdy kid that got kicked in the shins for being obsessed with TV/tech lol

also hc him as being vaguely and very obliviously transfemme; the buffness can also be overcompensating for a lack of masculinity both physically and mentally

[millie-multifics]

Proverbial Dark Clouds • Part 3

Major John Egan x Reader

A woman finally snuck her way into the heart of eligible bachelor Major John Egan, he is all too soon reminded of why he fended off love for so long.

Warnings: Angst. Themes of war, death and violence. Heart break. Spoilers to episodes 1-4. A little bit of steam but nothing graphic.

Word Count: ~2.7k

Final part of Proverbial Dark Clouds. Thank you so much for reading!

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2

x x x

Every moment they were stuck in the Algerian sand, Bucky kept his eyes on the sky, hoping that maybe a straggling plane would come along. The sun and sand were hot, most of the men had stripped to their underclothes hoping for some relief, many thinking about their lost comrades and the prospect of an ice-cold beer.

The only thing on Bucky’s mind was you. He could picture you sitting along with the boys in the sand, hounding them about sunburns and heat sickness but you would be as undressed as your modesty would allow with sweat dripping down your brow- so in love with the fact that you both had made it through alive.

It had all been a blur, the past two weeks or so for John. Being a leader amongst his men meant he couldn’t allow himself to be effected by the disappearance of you and his friends, he couldn’t lay his pain on the shoulders of his men. It had become a morning routine to visit the infirmary. The visits had started as a daily occurrence until Buck had caught on to his pre-breakfast disappearances, but he still stopped by when he could sneak away from Gale’s watchful eye. He’d stand near the doorway, expecting you to walk by, beautiful as ever even with blood spattered on your uniform. You never did.

You quickly learned that the base was always abuzz before and following a mission. While the pilots rested as much as their minds would let them the night before, all the other personnel were preparing to bring the men home as successful and safe as possible. For you it meant one more checkup for any soldiers who were cleared to leave the infirmary, preparing a general medical kit for each plane and hundreds of smaller medical kits for each soldier, a precaution should they need to bail out of the plane.

“Is there a man you fancy on this mission?” Doctor Williams asked, earning a confused frown as you shook your head. “If you keep pacing you will wear a hole in the middle of my floor.”

To put it lightly, you were bored. All of the patients had been tended to, every other task that the doctor had requested you complete was finished and you were full of trapped energy as your body overcompensated for your lack of sleep.

“They should be arriving anytime now, put on a jumpsuit and meet them in the field.” The doctor suggested, glancing up from his paperwork as you continued to pace.

“Am I permitted to do that?”

The man shrugged, just as tired as you. “Well, I’m permitting it. It would be more of a hassle to replace this floor if you wear a divet in it.”

You watched as the planes landed one by one. Most of the men had small treatable wounds until one particular plane caught your eye. The crew worked together to lower a bloodied man from inside, the rest of the medical team quickly rushed toward them with a stretcher. You followed, working to roll up the sleeves on your jumpsuit, ready to get your hands bloodied if need be.

“What’s his name?” You asked, your feet following along with the stretcher as you moved the injured soldiers jacket away from his wound.

“Duval.”

The familiar voice had you glancing over your shoulder as the men loaded the stretcher into the truck. Those gray eyes had been ingrained in your thoughts for the past week. Recognition dawned on his features, and what you could only decipher to be distaste flashed across his face. You had been someone he was not expecting to see again, after all, England had an array of American bases and neither of you had specified your destination during your previous encounter.

“Alright Duval, let’s get you fixed up.”

After helping Doctor Williams assess and treat Duval, you had been placed in charge of treating the men with smaller, more superficial wounds. Since most of the men had smaller wounds requiring only proper cleaning, bandaging and maybe a few stitches the lineup at your station was quite lengthy. Needless to say, your lack of sleep had you on edge and when the final man sat in the chair across from you, you couldn’t help but sigh.

“Don’t sound so sad to see me, sweetheart.”

“I heard you’re the one who treated Duval on the plane?” Your fingers gently gripped his chin to turn his head to the perfect angle for proper light.

“Impressed?”

“Confused.” You dipped the clean cloth into the bowl of water, “You could treat a wound like that but not take a shower to wash this blood off your face?”

“And miss my chance to be patched up by you?” He teased, but you could see it in his eyes, the nervousness he tried to hide. With your time in the medical field you had learned to read people through their eyes and body language, an important part of your job was to detect when people were in discomfort or pain.

“Earlier, you looked at me like I was a ghost or something.”

“I was just surprised is all.” He winced from the sting as you dabbed the dried blood from his hairline, “You this heavy-handed with every soldier?”

You scoffed, “The man before you did not flinch when I put 6 stitches in his brow.”

“Are you calling me weak?” John playfully leaned away from your touch “Maybe I am weak, weak in the knees for you.”

“Do these lines usually work for you?” Your fingers paused their work, your eyes jumping from inspecting his wound to the mischievous glint in his gray eyes.

“That depends. Will you agree to have a drink with me?”

“You are infuriatingly charming, Major.”

“Please, call me John.”

He had been tense lately, slipping closer and closer to the edge. It had become clear to Buck at Dye’s 25th Mission celebration that his friend was in dire need of a break. He sent John to London for the weekend, hoping that it would ease some of the tension in his shoulders and cast away the dark cloud that hung over his head. John felt the hotel was too quiet, escaping to a local pub for some noise and a beer and when a beautiful woman had approached him to share a drink he had tried to entertain her, maybe that would help him forget about you, but when she had gone to powder her nose he had slipped out undetected.

Sometimes John had trouble sleeping before missions, he would still be tossing and turning when a runner was sent to wake them up for their briefing. Now, he had trouble sleeping every night. Nearly two months had passed since you had disappeared, still nobody had any answers of what exactly had happened, either you had died a gruesome death or become a prisoner of war. The dark truth was John wasn’t sure which one he would prefer, resting at peace like the angel you were or trapped, possibly facing cruel acts of violence every day.

When exhaustion took over and sleep was impossible to avoid, he dreamt of you. Always so beautiful, always so you- those nights caused a deep ache to spread through his chest. He almost felt silly for the whole thing, you two had not been together long but he had been so captivated by your whole being. For so long he had sworn off love, not because he did not want it, but because he was certain that he would never experience it.

You smoothed down the soft skirt of your dress, no longer accustomed to wearing such a luxury item. The dress had been gifted to you by another nurse upon hearing through the grapevine that you had a date with the handsome Major. Unbeknownst to you, that Major was the “grapevine”.

A fast moving jeep suddenly stopped in front of your billet, the sound of it skidding along the gravel road pulled your attention away from the small crease along the dresses hem. The handsome Major stepped out of the jeep, his smile grew as he took in your form. There was a glint in his eye as he approached, gently brining your the back of your hand to his lips to lay a gentle greeting kiss.

“Your carriage awaits.”

You inspected the jeep and the patiently waiting solider in the drivers seat. “Have you ordered that man to chauffeur us around this evening? Or is he doing this with his own free will?”

“Half and half,” John shrugged, leading you toward the vehicle, “But that is because I have a plan.”

“A plan?”

The Major hummed as he opened the passenger door of the Jeep, “Do you happen to know how to ride a bicycle?”

Your chauffeur dropped you off at your destination and quickly drove off into the sunset, presumably back to Thorpe Abbott before anyone realized he was gone. John led you into a quaint pub, his familiarity with the other patrons and bartender told you that he had visited it often since arriving in England. He led you to a table in the corner, leaving you by yourself momentarily while he went to get drinks.

“It feels like you are sitting a whole world away,” He gripped the edge of your chair, pulling it closer to the corner of the square table, “Much better.”

“So, what are the components of this master plan?”

“My crew is set to arrive tomorrow, if all is according to plan. Bicycles are hard to come by at Thorpe Abbott right now and I sure as hell could use one, trying to get one for a friend of mine too.” His breath brushed your face as he leaned closer, keen on hiding the next phase of his plan from any nosy patrons. “He always said that drinking leads to gambling, and where would a better place be than here?”

You gasped, feigning shock. “Major, I hope you are not planning to swindle some poor locals for their bicycles?”

“If all goes according to plan.” His charming smile returned, “But of course that is simply only a singular component of my plan, enjoying a beer and the company of a compelling lady are my highlights.”

You spent your evening tucked away in the corner, John coaxing stories from you about your past, eager to learn more about you. You were both so enthralled that neither of you had noticed your bodies slowly gravitating closer as the night went on. You were sitting on the same side of the table now, shoulder to shoulder, feet tangled together and hands lingering merely an inch apart on the table top.

“It’s getting late.” John glanced at his watch, turning his wrist to show you the face of the timepiece.

You sighed, not wanting the evening to end. “Time flies when you are having fun.”

“That it does.” He finally stopped playing coy, boldly taking your soft hand into his rough one. You felt a chill run through you as his thumb swiped over the back of your hand. “I should put in a little work on acquiring those bicycles, then get you back to base.”

You waited patiently, unsure of what his gambling entailed. What you had not expected was for John to bet another man could hit a bullseye, the target though being an apple resting on top of Johns very own head.

“John, as a medical professional I must advise you against this.” You spoke over the rowdy patrons in the pub “There has to be another way for you to acquire a bicycle, you’ll lose an eye.”

“No I won’t, I trust Tommy.” He assured, the additional beer and adrenaline now running through his blood stream providing him with extra confidence. “Now he wins this, I get both those bikes.”

“Yeah, you’re on yank.”

“And I get a kiss.” John sent you a wink as he stepped in front of the dart board. “Alright, Tommy, not my eyes. Not my eyes, Tommy. All right?”

He placed the apple on top of his head and covered his eyes with his hand, letting a big breath out. “Alright Tommy, whenever you’re ready.”

You held your breath, pulling at the skin on your fingers to keep yourself from covering your eyes as well. The possible outcomes filtered through your mind, puncture wound of the face or hand, loss of an eye; both would not have great outcomes for any pilot. You had to close your eyes as Tommy took aim.

Gasps echoed through the pub as the dart pierced skin, luckily for sake of most peoples it was the skin of the apple.

“Tommy!”

John brushed past you to hug Tommy for their victory, before circling back to pull your body into his arms. You were too shocked with the contact to return it before he retreated for one more celebrity cheer with the other patrons who had witnessed the unbelievable sight.

You gripped your dress in your hand while trying to maintain grip on the bicycles handlebar, not wanting your dress to get caught in the wheel. Only a minute after you had departed the pub, the clouds opened up and the down pour started. You had laughed in disbelief at first, just your luck to be caught in the rain on a night like this.

“Nothing but blue skies do I see,

Not in England though,

Got shitty weather and blue skies, smiling at me.”

John sung at the top of his lungs as he weaved along the road in front of you, making the most of the poor weather with his clever lyrics and self-identified singing ability.

The bikes were abandoned in the rain on the walkway to your small cabin. Against all the rules, you had invited the Major to step inside to escape the rain to say goodnight. He stood in the threshold, his confident demeanor dwindling as a near awkwardness hung by the threshold.

You were grateful that the other ladies in your cabin had been granted weekend passes, you couldn’t imagine this moment if you had five other women watching this moment like it was the next best movie.

“I enjoyed tonight.” You found a shirt abandoned on your bunk, using it to quickly dry the water droplets running down your scalp. “Despite you nearly blinding yourself for a bet.”

“Actually, I do recall the bet including a kiss.”

His words hung in the space between you. You dropped the shirt onto your bunk as he took slow steps forward, almost unsure if you were open to fulfilling the wager.

“You’re right, I think it did.” The words sounded like a whisper coming from your lips, nearly being drowned out by the sound of the heavy rain beating against the tin roof above your heads. You slowly stepped forward, closing the space between your bodies until your finger tips brushed.

“This alright, sweetheart?” His warm breath fanned your face as he asked. Your nod causing your nose to briefly rub along his before your lips connected in a slow kiss. Your hands found his hips as his snaked around to the back of your head, slowly increasing the pressure of the kiss as your body relaxed against his. The kiss had unleashed an array of feelings that continued to smolder throughout the night.

His short trip to London had done nothing to help ease the spreading darkness of his mind- 30 bombers lost.

The headline in the newspaper and his phone call to Thorpe Abbott was all he needed to solidify the fantasy he had of what he must do moving forward in this war. The only way he would make it through without losing the rest of his sanity was to find you, and now Gale with the other missing men.

The heart breaking truth was you had never made it out of your reverie, the last words gracing your thoughts was your Majors sweet whisper.

“My pleasure, sweetheart.”

x x x

@canyousmelltheflowers @mads-weasley @groovin2beats @major-john-bucky-egan @finelinetimothee @surazim @orphancains @danny-boy27 @eugenedream

[seeingivy]

pls do "the story of us" for ur gojo x taylor swift series 🙏🙏

the story of us

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: gojo is ur roommates best friend, he is annoying (more teen gojo I am arrogant bastard vibes then sweetie teacher baby gojo), hoes are fighting, hoes are in the most complicated situationship on the planet earth, mistletoe, ice skating, sukuna as an annoying ex, mysterious evil dad figure for gojo

an: proof im the most annoying writer ever. made a poll for taylor as gojo to, for a second time now, ignore those options and write a completely different songs. sincerest apologies but gojo as taylor fans come get yall juice.

--

“Good morning, you hag.” Satoru states, in a fell swoop, crashing any hopes you had of having a good morning. 

“Good morning, you garden troll.” you respond. 

You rub the sleep out of your eyes, rummaging through the cabinets for a bowl, as he jumps up off the couch and joins you in the kitchen, keen and eager to annoy you bright and early in the morning. 

He’s leaning on the granite countertops at your side, his blue eyes peering over those god awful sunglasses he’s always intent on wearing - despite the fact that it’s quite literally raining outside - and gives you a jeering smile. 

“So, do all girls wear granny nightgowns or is it just you?” he asks, twisting the end of your pigtail braids in his hair. You immediately smack his hand off and glare, turning around to reach for the milk. 

“Do all boys have tiny dicks and overcompensate with a shitty personality or is it just you?” you iterate back, earning a satisfying glare back from him. 

With his snow white hair and annoyingly glimmering blue eyes, your roommate's best friend, Satoru Gojo, is quite literally the biggest nuisance you’ve ever met in your life. Clearly a rich kid, trust fund type, you can tell that Satoru, in earnest, has never worked a day in his life. And his lack of tact and self awareness truly reflects that. 

It’s embedded deep in the way that he acts. Because Satoru saunters from place to place, showing up at your apartment with no consideration or respect for you and Suguru, bats his pretty eyes at his professors when he’s failing, flirts with girls before he cheats off of their tests, and the list goes on and on. 

 One thing is clear. That he’s a spineless, pathetic little manchild. 

And you’re not sure why, what it is specifically about you, but he’s clearly made it his personal mission in life to antagonize and irritate you.Maybe it’s the fact that you yelled at him the first time he ever showed up in this apartment, that you couldn’t help but disagree with every word that came out of his mouth, that at his core he just agitated you - but it led you to this horrible predicament that you’re in now. 

That you ended up having to room with Suguru, when Sukuna dumped you and kicked you out. And that, of course, the universe was always in your favor, and you ended up at the one place Satoru was when he wasn’t shamelessly flirting with any living organism, which was right outside your room. 

Right on cue, the front door slams open and Suguru’s barging in, wildly out of breath and panting. His usual fixed, pristine bun is in a mess, his pupils wide and dilated as he looks at the two of you. 

“Fucking perfect!” he pants, leaning down on his knees and trying to catch his breath. 

“G’morning Suguru. You okay, there?” you ask, giving him a strange look. 

“Okay, okay. You guys are dating.” 

“Huh?” you both ask, eyes boggling out of your heads. 

“You’re dating. Be-be in love, I don’t know, be in love!” he shouts, immediately running back out of the door and slamming the door shut. 

You and Satoru give each other a look before shrugging, returning back to your bowl of cereal and Gojo to his phone. And on cue, Suguru strolls back into the apartment, more calmly and with a girl at his side. His cheeks are still flushed in pink, the panting subsided but still present in his voice.

“Y/N, Satoru, this is Hiromi. Hiromi, this is my roommate Y/N and her boyfriend, Satoru.” 

You swallow hard, realizing quickly what’s happening here. And out of the kindness of your heart, groan at the fact that you’re going to have to oblige. 

Three months ago, you got dumped by Sukuna. Because as much as you and the two of you had moved past, he had finally exhausted all ends and had enough of you.

Quite literally, enough of you, because he went as far as packing your things and taking your key, fully intent on never letting you back in. And out of the kindness of his heart, one of your only friends - who was free of any attachments to Sukuna - had an empty room in his apartment that he offered to lease to you. 

Suguru, naturally, was the perfect roommate. Always cleaned up after himself, offered to listen whenever you needed him, saved leftovers for you when you had a long day. Except for the stupid white haired plus one that came with him, it was perfect. 

For you. Because while Suguru was all but willing to offer you the spot in the room, insisting that it never caused an issue, he might have been fibbing the truth to save your feelings. Something you found out from Satoru, who is naturally a loudmouth. 

That since Suguru has a female roommate, you’ve put a damper on his…..romantic endeavors. Because they’re increasingly enthusiastic, so into him, until the shit hits the fan. 

They find out that you’re his roommate. And you think it’s a little ridiculous, but they all cite the same reason for not talking to him past the second or third date. Because to them, there’s no way in hell that he isn’t crushing on you, that you don't cuddle at night, and that you definitely coddle each other in a way no one else does. 

Because nothing is more ironic than losing a guy to the girl he lives with and they’d rather cut their losses before getting involved. 

Which proves that Suguru must really like this girl. Because if he’s going this far, lying to her the second before she walks in, it must mean that he really wants her to stick around. 

Is it moral? No. Is Suguru lonely? Yes. 

“Hiromi. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” you respond, setting your bowl down and extending a hand to her. 

She gives you a warm smile back, laughing at Satoru flaunting some stupid line about chivalry before he presses a kiss on top of her knuckles. Satoru must be enjoying himself too much, because he’s now snaking his hand around your waist, leaning down to press his temple against yours. 

“Would you like to stay for breakfast? Poor Suguru has third wheeled with us far enough.” he asks, as she politely nods in response. 

You and Satoru lead Hiromi to the breakfast table - Satoru now eating your bowl of cereal - as Suguru starts setting out to make breakfast for all of you. You and Satoru sit side by side, sparing each other an awkward glance, as Hiromi shamelessly ogles you. 

“So how long have you guys been dating?” Hiromi asks, politely folding her hands flat on the table. 

“Well. Um, I moved here right after I broke up with my ex-boyfriend. He kind of left me with no place to live and I kind of met Satoru here. And then it just happened.” you mumble, cheeks turning pink. 

Satoru, again, has no concept of personal boundaries. He slings his hand around your shoulders, planting a wet kiss on your cheeks, before responding to her. 

“Don’t mind her, she just gets really shy when she talks about her feelings for me.” 

“Satoru.” 

“But rest assured, I promise you that you don’t have to worry about Suguru and Y/N, if that’s what you’re trying to pry about.” 

Her face immediately goes pink, as you look over at Satoru, who flashes you a knowing smile and squeezes your shoulder. 

“I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to pry, I hope you understand. It’s just that…it’s kind of a weird situation. And I know that probably says more about my insecurities than anything but-” 

You reach over, placing your hand over her folded ones. 

“It’s a normal thing to be concerned about. If I was you, I probably would have asked a hundred berating questions already.” 

“Yeah. She gets really possessive.” Gojo unhelpfully adds. 

You shoot him a glare, before returning to look at her and smiling. 

“But I promise, you have nothing to worry about. I-I don’t even think about Suguru like that. And we’re never here alone, Satoru’s always here with me.” 

“Like you, I too am possessive over my girl. Despite the fact that she quite literally makes it so easy for us by wearing the most unflattering pajamas, I’ll be here to stamp out any budding feelings, if that makes you feel better.” 

“Yeah. Satoru really knows how to take the romance out of a room. I know better than anyone.” you respond, earning a laugh from Hiromi as she releases that awkward tension in her shoulders. 

 

You kick the tiny divots on the floor, patiently waiting for your matcha latte at the bar. Your anxiety is growing by the second, the unexpected morning rush and the heavy foot traffic outside indicating that you were going to be late to your morning class if your drink wasn’t made in the next few minutes. 

You’re thrown out of your thoughts by a tapping on your shoulder, only to find a boy, with blonde hair and brown eyes smiling at you. 

“I like your shirt.” 

You look down, at your boygenius the record shirt, and look up to smile at him. 

“Thank you! What’s your favorite song?”

“We’re In Love.” he responds, giving you a warm smile. 

You’re not sure why, but hearing him say the words has the blood rushing to your cheeks. You hold your hand out to him, swallowing that deep warm pit in your throat. 

“Y/N.” 

“Kento. It’s nice to meet you.” 

And really, the moment - your stupid coffee shop meet cute - comes crashing down when you hear that agitating, grating voice at your side. 

“And I’m Satoru!” Satoru states, standing at your side and too blissfully happy for seven in the morning. You glare at him, as he gives you an annoyingly irritating smile. 

“Your drink is here, babe.” Satoru states, holding your dark green matcha latte in his nimble hands. From the way it’s half full, you can tell he already downed half of it in the few seconds you were talking to Kento. 

“Thank you.” you grate out, giving Kento an awkward smile. 

“Well, Kento. It was nice meeting you but we have a class to get to.”  Satoru adds. 

He cocks his head to the side, blue eyes peeking over his sunglasses, as he looks at you. 

“Ready to go?” 

You groan, knowing internally that whatever shred of a moment you just had was gone, as you sigh. 

“Yes. Bye Kento.” 

You glare at him as you walk out of the store, Satoru reaching over to pull the hood of your rain jacket up, as the two of you start marching through the downpour. He’s walking at your side, sporting some very light clothes for the way it’s raining down. 

“I don’t like matcha. We should start getting iced vanilla lattes.” 

“I didn’t realize we were sharing. And that was really rude, Satoru.“

“Everything that’s yours is mine, sweetheart.” 

“Really? What are the three numbers on the back of your credit card, boo boo bear?” 

“666.” he responds, flicking the side of your cheek. 

“That’s fitting.” you murmur back, as he slides the drink out of your hand, again. 

You and Satoru march in silence, trudging through the puddles collecting in the holes of pavement, the silence enveloping the two of you. 

And really, for what seems like the hundredth time, you’re racking your brain trying to figure Satoru Gojo out. You’re not sure what it is about him, what drives him to act the way he does, but every answer you find leaves you with a hundred more questions you want to answer. 

In the few months you’ve been living with Suguru, you’ve been able to ascertain a few things. 

First and foremost, there is no one Satoru Gojo loves more than his friends. From the way he affectionately talks about Suguru, and their hometown friend Shoko, it’s evident enough that whatever friendship he has with the two of them means the world to him. 

Second, Satoru Gojo is extremely comfortable in his sense of self. From the way he carries himself, enthusiastically chats with strangers on the train and feels so comfortable stealing your lattes after the bar, you can tell that no one has tried to stomp that spirit out of him. Other people, more meek and timid like you perhaps, get that childlike wonder stamped out of them. But here Satoru Gojo is, at the ripe age of twenty-one, still sporting it like a proud badge he wears. 

And third, Satoru Gojo loves to irritate you. You’re not sure what it is about you exactly, whether it’s the fact that you’re Suguru’s roommate so it leaves you off limits to any of his usual charming compliments he leaves for other girls, but Satoru treats you like no one else. Always pulling at the ends of your hair, “lovingly” making fun of your clothes, and obviously, stamping any chance you have of romantic endeavors. 

Satoru swings the door open for you, walking all the way to the front of your class. He holds out a five dollar bill and gives you a cheeky grin.

“What for?” 

“Thanks for the latte, princess.” 

You glare, snatching the bill out of his hands. 

“You’re welcome.” 

Right on cue, a girl all but appears out of thin air at your side, giving you and Satoru sickly sweet smiles. 

“Hi Satoru.” 

Satoru’s leaning against the frame now, an irritating move you’ve seen him do countless times - one to show off his stupidly toned arms - as he leans down and smiles at her. 

“Hi Sammy. How are you?” 

“Pretty good, now that you’re here.” she responds, twisting the ends of her hair in between her fingers. 

You fight the urge to gag as Satoru laughs, leaning forward to tuck the stray hairs by the side of her ear. 

“Right, so. I’ll see you later, babe?” you ask Satoru, giving him a smile. 

He looks over, glaring with his bright, angry blue eyes. 

“Y/N.” he responds, tone warning. 

“And Satoru, sweetheart? Do remember to grab toilet paper on the way home. Suguru is getting really tired of cleaning up your skid marks.” you respond, reaching forward to pinch his cheek and settling into your seat at the front, watching him seethe at the front door. 

--

When you walk into the apartment, Satoru’s incessant comments are the final nail in the coffin on what might be the worst day ever. 

“Ouch. I think I just went temporarily blind. You look horrible.” Satoru asks, momentarily taking his eyes off of the movie he was watching with Suguru and Hiromi. 

And the comment - so pathetically hitting you the last place you needed it - is enough to send you crying in a fit of your tears, as you lock the door behind you. 

Satoru looks over to find Suguru and Hiromi glaring at him, Suguru more angry and Hiromi more disappointed. He can’t pick which one is worse. Well actually, you crying in his face is the worst thing that happened in the past few minutes, but their reaction is right up there with them. 

“What?” Satoru asks, shrugging. 

“Satoru.” Suguru berates.

“What? I was just joking.” 

“I don’t understand how you and Y/N are dating. I mean, you can hardly even call it that.” Hiromi states, looking at him rather unhelpfully. 

Suguru’s eyes go wide at her side and Satoru swallows hard, thinking of his collateral. Because in earnest, Satoru’s not really sure what Suguru sees in Hiromi, why he would ever think this would be the best solution to his issue. 

But when you followed Suguru’s lead, all Satoru could really do was oblige. 

“That’s just how Y/N and I communicate. It’s our love language.” Satoru says, giving her a halfhearted smile. 

“You know she hates it right?” Hiromi asks. 

“Well, I don’t know about-” 

“Who would want to wake up every morning and have someone just constantly berating them? Just teasing them, making fun of every little thing you say. And sure, it’s fun sometimes to banter with your partner but…it can’t really be easy for her. She doesn’t have many friends. And the one person who's supposed to like her being…rude can’t help either.” Hiromi adds. 

“Well, I just…tease her because that’s how I know to talk to her. That’s just how I am. And she has plenty of friends.” Satoru responds. 

“Not anymore. They’re all friends with Sukuna, who I’m positive she wants nothing to do with. It’s probably why she even tolerates you in the first place. Granted, I’m not trying to speak on your relationship but from what I’ve seen, it’s….you kind of have to make adjustments for her.” Hiromi states. 

“I don’t know if that will-” 

“Just be there with her. It’ll help her. I think deep down, she just wants someone to be there with her. At her side to support her.” 

Satoru gives Suguru a glare, before obliging and knocking on your door. He takes a deep breath as he walks in, finding you slumped on the floor next to your vinyl player. The gray vinyl is scratching on the table, soft guitar music emanating from it as you lay on your side. Satoru follows suit, lying flat on the ground next to you until the two of you are face to face. And in earnest, Satoru feels horrible. At your pink eyes, flushed cheeks, and puffy skin. Because for god knows whatever reason, what he had said was enough to make you cry. 

Satoru never understood it. Why people assign him so much importance when anything he’s ever had to say has been discarded all together. It’s why he’s unsure of what to say to you right now, when he’s never had to say anything at all. 

“Hi Y/N.” 

You stare back at him blankly, his blue eyes void of any of their usual excitement as he stares back at you. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

You divert your attention, the question so…agitating, that all you can do is watch your vinyl spin around on the table, at the little pin digging into the plate. 

“Is um….I don’t really know how to do this whole…comforting thing. It’s kind of awkward. Is this that band you like?”

You give him a meek nod, which he smiles at, before squinting at the small print on the vinyl. 

“Ah. I get it. You’re trying to be Cool About It. Whatever it is that’s bothering you.” 

“That was lame. Even for you, Satoru.” you respond, wiping the snot off of your nose. 

“Well, I personally think you’re hot. Being Cool About It was never going to be your thing either.” he responds. 

He’s not sure what it is about what he said, but suddenly your face is falling and you’re kind of…glaring at him. You pull your hood up and turn away from him, because the embarrassment of having Satoru Gojo in your room pitying you right now would be the actual nail in the coffin before you went full on off your rocker crazy. 

Satoru’s quick to move, now sitting crisscrossed near your head and looking down at you. 

“Are you playing hard to get so I’ll call you hot again?” 

“No. I’m trying to get you to stop pitying me.” you murmur back, pulling the hood over your face. 

“I don’t pity you.” 

You stand up, crossing your legs on the floor, as you turn to face him. And you know that Satoru in no way deserves any shape of the wrath that’s coming out of your mouth, but you can’t help it. 

“You don’t?” 

“Well, of course I-” 

“Yes, Satoru, you do. Because really, you’re only here because Suguru or Hiromi asked you to be. They asked you to put whatever the fuck it is that you have going on inside your head and think for one fucking second how it is that you make me feel. When you make fun of me constantly, do every last thing to agitate me, quite literally flirt with every living microorganism on this goddamn planet but me. I know that you really, truly do not care. You’re just here because they asked you to be but god, please spare me of whatever shitty response you’re trying to muster up to make me feel better because there’s no point. I just feel horrible when I’m around you.” you shout. 

You lean back against the back of your bed, your chest heaving, as you knot your fingers together and groan. Because if the day couldn’t get any worse, you just yelled at Satoru. 

For no reason. After he tried to comfort you, in his own weird way. 

He scoots up at your side, sliding his hand around your shoulder once again, and leaning your head against his shoulder. Your stupid tears are falling again as he rubs into your skin, the touch soft. 

“All that because you’re mad I won’t flirt with you?” he murmurs. 

“Of course that’s what you got out of it.” 

He laughs, the lack of anger in his tone at your words soothing down the bouts of guilt in your chest. 

“You’re not the type of girl I can flirt with.” 

“Jeez. Thanks Satoru. You really know how to make a girl feel special.” 

He reaches forward to pinch your nose, before continuing. 

“I mean, I’m obviously a guy who lacks self-awareness or tact, in quite literally any conversation.” 

“Naturally.” you respond. 

He gives you a pointed glare, before continuing. 

“But I have self awareness when it comes to these types of things. I know I shouldn’t flirt with you.” he responds. 

“And why’s that? I’m too ugly of a hag for you?” you spit. 

“No. You’re the type of girl who could take my heart and run off with it if I let you.” 

You shrug his hand off your shoulder, rolling your eyes. 

“You’re full of shit, Satoru Gojo. And corny as hell.” 

“You know you’re no good for me, right?” 

You look at him, at his deep, ocean blue eyes for the first time, filled with an emotion you can’t quite place. 

“You’d put me in my place too fast. Maybe too eager, too curious to figure out what it is I’ve got going on up and here. And I don’t know the answers to that either, but you’d want to make me figure it out. Whatever mess of things going on, I-I’d want to fix it for you. And as nice as that sounds, you’d probably break any semblance of structure I’d have left the second you go running. Which is something even I can’t handle.” he responds, lifting his hand to take yours in it. 

You cross link your fingers with his, linking your hands together. And try to place the emotion, that dragging sound in his voice. 

It’s desperation. 

“Why do you think I would leave?” you ask, looking down at your intertwined hands.

Satoru smiles in response, reaching forward to trace his fingers along the edge of your lips. 

“You’ve just proved my point.” 

And when he pads out of your room, you realize that once again, he’s left you with a hundred questions left to answer. But the one you’re sure of is this. 

That the emotion that was welling in his deep, crystal blue eyes was impassioned. That it was real. 

--

In the following weeks, things change between you and Satoru, but not too drastically. You’re not required to keep your show up for Hiromi too often, because she’s quite literally too enamored with Suguru to even think about the two of you, and Satoru Gojo stays the same way he is. 

He steals your lattes, pulls your hair, lovingly calls you an old hag, and stamps out any hopes you have for romantic endeavors. But somewhere around the grayness of November, he doesn’t stop by your apartment for three days. 

“Hey. Where’s Gojo?” 

Suguru looks up from his phone, giving you the most obscene look you’ve ever seen him muster. 

“Huh?” 

“Gojo? Satoru Gojo? That gangly idiot that’s always hanging around here?” 

“Yes. I’m well aware who he is, Y/N. Why are you asking?” 

“Dunno. He’s always around and now he’s not. Are you sure he’s not dead in a ditch somewhere?” you ask. 

“He might as well be. His dad is in town. Spending time with him.” he responds, turning back to his phone and looking away from you. 

You frown, leaning against the counter, as you reach for your phone. And you’re not sure why you do it but you slide into your chat with him and start typing. 

you: are you enjoying your father daughter time? 

satoru: are you missing me?

you: missing the free lattes that come from going to the coffee shop with you :/ 

you: come hit on the girl at the paper lantern. im craving a matcha latte. 

satoru: i would never waste a free drink on a matcha latte. 

satoru: and quit trying to whore me out for free drinks. 

you: then buy me one. 

satoru: well played. 

satoru: the ice skating rink, on sixteenth and rockfield. i’ll be there in an hour. 

You smile gleefully, wrapping your scarf carefully around you, as you head out into the cold to the ice skating rink Satoru had picked out. And you catch the back of his snow white hair, leaning against the railing as you eye the big, bright Christmas tree at the center. 

You walk up to his side, lacing your hand through his, as you turn and give him a smile. He returns the gesture, some part of his demeanor muted today, as he turns to you. 

“Hi Y/N.” 

“Satoru. Where’s my drink?” 

Satoru rolls his eyes, before reaching for the two cups on the ground and handing you one. 

“Your shitty matcha latte. As requested.” 

You smile, wrapping your arms around the drink, as he leads you to the stand to get your skates. His hand is soft on the small of your back as you walk up to the girl giving out the shoes. 

“Sizes?” she asks. 

“Eight.” you respond. 

“Eleven and a half.” Satoru provides, as the girl whisks off to grab your shoes. 

“Eleven and a half? What are you, Bigfoot?” you respond. 

“You know what they say. Big feet, big…” 

“Ego. But we knew that already.” you respond. 

The two of you take the skates and head over to the bench, Satoru too quick with his own skates that he’s suddenly tying yours and dragging you onto your feet. The two of you stand at the front of the tiny little opening, the sudden awkwardness of the situation dawning on you. 

That you don’t know how to ice skate. 

“What are we waiting for?” Satoru asks, hands on both of your shoulders as he stands behind you. He rests his chin on the top of your head, his breath tickling the hair on your scalp. 

“The rink to open up. There’s a bunch of people, I don’t want to crash into them the second we get on.” 

Satoru frowns, bringing his hands around your chin and lightly moving your face to his. 

“Are the people in the room with us? There’s like nine people here. And four of them are under the age of seven.” he deadpans. 

“I don’t want to knock over a kid.” you whine. 

“Yeah, that would be goblin on troll crime.” Satoru responds. 

“Am I the goblin or the troll?” you ask. 

“Troll. Obviously.” he responds, bringing his hands around your waist as he lifts you onto the ice with him. 

You’re suddenly wobbling too hard on your feet and holding onto his extended arms with a deathlike grip, the cold air biting your skin as your legs turn to noodles. 

“Okay, Raggedy Anne. Face me.” he states, voice soft as he turns you towards him. His hands are locked in with yours, the hold firm as he smiles. 

“Satoru.” you whine. 

“Just try to glide with me, okay? Our goal is to get to that side of the rink, by the end of our game.” 

“What’s our game?” you ask. 

“We’re going to play twenty questions.” Satoru states, mimicking the gliding motion as he instructs you.

You follow his suit, clutching hard on his arm every time you wobble, as Satoru starts to distract you with the stupid game he’s intent on playing. 

“Me first. Why did you text me?” Satoru asks. 

“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead in a ditch somewhere. It was surprisingly peaceful for the past few days, so I knew you had to be in some type of mortal peril somewhere.” you respond. 

Gojo hums in response, as you try hard to pick the hundreds of questions you have to ask Gojo. 

“Where were you the past few days?” you ask. 

“Did you want me there?” Satoru asks, tone hopeful. 

“You’re supposed to answer before you ask again. And I’m not sure if want is the word. But…I don’t know. It’s weird not having you around. All quiet.” you respond. 

“My dad’s in town. Was kind of busy.” 

You hum in response, rolling over the words in your head. 

“I did want you around.” you add, earning a smile from him. 

The two of you skate in silence, the wobbling minimal now as you try to reach the railing at the end of the rink that Satoru had pointed out, right near the small, brightly decorated Christmas tree at the end of the rink. 

“It’s your turn, Y/N.” Satoru reminds. 

“Right. Do you like your dad?” 

“No. What happened with Sukuna?” 

You swallow hard, so caught off guard by the question that you fall straight into the ice. You must have been holding onto Satoru too hard because he goes tumbling down with you, lightly rubbing the spot on his head that made contact with the ice. You reach forward, cradling his head in your hands. 

“Fuck. Sorry, Gojo. That caught me off guard.” 

“That’s my bad, princess. It came out of nowhere.” he responds, standing up on his knees as he holds his hand out for you. He’s wiping the excess ice off the sides of your clothes and you mimic his motions. 

The two of you start silently skating towards the end of the rink again, hands linked together, as you figure out the right words to say. 

“I live with Suguru because of him. He wasn’t the best.” 

“I know that much, Y/N.” 

“He…kicked me out. Like, put all my things in a box, put them outside, and kept my key.” 

His hand tighets in yours as you swallow hard and continue. 

“Dunno. I guess he just kind of sucked. I was trying to convince myself I liked him, that we were in love for a really long time. I’d write him all these really long love letters, that he basically read days after the fact that I wrote them. He’d compliment me once in a while, but then I realized when it was only when he wanted something.” you respond, sighing. 

Satoru doesn’t respond, only squeezes your hand in response to the entire bout of word vomit you just gave him. 

“Why don’t you like your dad?” you ask. 

“He thinks I’m perfect.” Satoru responds, sighing. 

“Boo hoo.” you respond, joking. 

He smiles in response, his hand lightly loosening in yours. You tighten your grip against his again, giving him your best smile. 

“I’m joking, ‘Toru. What did you mean by that?” 

“I just mean. He expects so much from me, because I’m his only son. And when I was a kid, he was really hard on me for it. Made me attend all these shitty classes by myself, isolated me from other kids because I was meant to be something great. And I obviously pulled away from him because of it. But then, he kind of…shifted. He was vying so hard for my attention now, that suddenly I became free of all blame, all faults.” 

“Well, we both know that’s not true.” 

He snorts, dragging you to the end of the railing by the Christmas tree, as you both lean against the little glass panes. 

“I just wanted him to be real with me. Tell me when I was good, tell me when I was bad. Not where he was criticizing every move I made but not when he was praising all of them either.” 

You nod, turning to your side to hold both of his hands in yours. 

“Well, you’re shitty when you’re mean to me. But you’re nice when you’re like this.” you state. 

He smiles, that stupid lopsided grin, as he brings his hands around your neck and pulls you in against him. His lips are soft and warm, though you’re not sure how, against your almost frostbitten, cold blue ones. But the warmth that’s blooming in your chest, under your skin, from his hands, from his lips on yours is enough to bring you down. 

He pulls back, resting his forehead against yours as he places a light kiss to the tip of your pink nose. 

“What was that for?” you ask, breathless. 

“Mistletoe.” Satoru responds, pushing off the little railing and slowly skating away, waiting for him to join you. 

You look up, fighting the urge to smile at the small little bundle of leaves and berries above you, as you skate out and join his hand to go around the rink. 

--

There’s an incessant pounding on your door that wakes you up, as you pull on the closest jacket and your glasses as you pad to the door. You open up to find him there, half bored on his phone, as he looks up at you. 

“Oh. Hey. Was the spare not under-” 

He all but lurches forward, wrapping his hands around your neck as he presses his lips to yours. He’s all too eager, because he’s walking into you so fast that he’s all but pushed you up against the wall behind you, his lips hanging off yours as he smiles into your mouth. 

“Y/N.” he hums, smiling into your face. 

“Good morning to you too.” 

He smiles, wrapping his hands around your wrist, as he leads you back to your bed, quickly peeling your hoodie off your frame as he tucks you into the bed with him. And instead of doing what you thought he was going to do, he’s tucking you tight against his frame, your face tucked into his clavicle, as he brings his arms around yours and holds you tight. 

“Did you come all this way to cuddle?” 

“I came all this way to kiss you. This is just a bonus.” 

You burrow yourself into his skin, leaning your head against his, as your thousand questions swim around in your mind. On what you’re doing, on why he’s here, on if you can even ask. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” 

“You have a weird, pinched up look on your pretty face. What is it?” he asks. 

“Oh. I was just thinking.” you respond. 

“About?” 

“Um, what we’re doing.” 

“We’re cuddling, silly.” Satoru responds, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your forehead. 

“I know. But what does that mean?” 

Satoru brings his hands up around your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands as he smiles. 

“It means that I just had a really annoying fight with my dad. And I just want to hold you and not think about it.” he responds. 

“Oh. Okay, yeah.” 

You burrow yourself back into his arms, the two of you a mess of tangled limbs as you hold onto each other. And you’re not sure why you start talking, but you’re filling the silent space with your voice. 

“I saw Sukuna the other day.” you murmur. 

Satoru brings his hands down, rubbing into the side of your arm as he hums in response. 

“Was it okay?” 

“Kind of stupid.” you murmur. 

“Why?” he asks. 

“He came up to me to ask if I was going to go to the end of year banquet that they hold for the seniors going into the masters program.” 

“And?” 

“I mean, I was planning on it. And then he just felt the need to warn me that he’s bringing his new girlfriend and it was really awkward. He asked me if I was bringing anyone and I said no, just for him to smile in response and then walk away.” 

“You should have said you were bringing me.” 

“I wasn’t aware that I was bringing you.” 

“Well, now you are. Plus, my dad…he always gets on my back to go to shit like that since he’s one of the donors. At least now I’ll have something to do there.” 

“And what’s that?” 

“Annoy you!” he responds. 

You reach forward to flick the side of his cheek, before reaching forward to push the hair off of his forehead. The touch must be somewhat soothing to him, because it coaxes him to talk, in the slightest. 

“When I was a kid, my dad forced me to go to events like that. All the time. And when I was there…he’d always yell at me for all these different things. My hair was too messy, I wasn’t standing right, I was too loud.” 

You brush your thumb on the skin of his cheek, before reaching forward to press a kiss to his skin. 

“And after I kind of figured it all out, I was so…irritated that I ever listened. And I’ve tried to stamp it out, that voice telling me to be quiet all the time. But sometimes when I see him…I don’t know. It just comes flooding back.” 

You prop your hands up against his chest, resting your head on top of your hands as you look down at him. His eyes are shut as he faces your ceiling, a hand resting behind his head while the other one is secured, firmly around you. In the ray of sunlight peering out of your window, you notice that Satoru has the smallest patch of freckles around his nose. 

“I always wondered why you were like that. But somehow, this makes it better.” 

“Huh?” 

“You were always so…you that sometimes it made me jealous. That you had this unstoppable, vibrant spirit, that you probably had life so easy that no one had stamped it out of you.” 

You reach forward, tracing the skin on his cheek, as you continue to talk. 

“But this is better. Someone tried to do that to you and you didn’t let them. You’re not weak or timid like me, you don’t let people like that shut you up like I do.” 

“You’re not weak or timid.” he responds, cupping the side of your face. 

“Satoru.” 

“You’ve always stood your ground. Especially when it comes to me.” 

“Well, you’re you. Sukuna is…” 

“Nothing. You can handle an idiot like Sukuna. And I’ll be there, if he tries to say anything to you and you need me.” 

You halfheartedly nod. 

“And I’ll be there. If you want to annoy me instead of talking to your dad.” 

“I’ll take you up on that offer. Always.” 

--

Satoru presses a kiss to your cheek before running out the door, late for his class. And when you turn on your heel, you find Suguru giving you a wide smile, with an almost teasing look on his face. You glare in response, moving past him to do the dishes. 

“Do you need something, Suguru?” 

“Are you guys dating?” he asks, resting his chin in his hands as he gives you a jeering smile. 

“What’s it to you?” you ask. 

“My best friend…my roommate…seems like a very big deal to me.” 

“Well, we’re just talking. I don’t know if it’s official, but I think it’s exclusive.” you respond. 

“It’s definitely exclusive. He’s liked you for a while.” 

You snort, as he comes up at your side and starts drying the dishes. 

“No, I’m serious! I promise, he’s not coming around this much just to see me. And I’m sure you’ll make him very happy. Keep him in his place.” 

“That’s what he said.” you murmur, smiling. 

“Just, don’t get too heated if you guys get into an argument. You’re both the most stubborn people I know, but don’t let that get in the way of anything.” 

“Okay, I’ll definitely take relationship advice from someone who pathologically lies to his girlfriend everyday.” 

Suguru yanks on the edge of ear and you splash a good amount of dishwater at him in response as you both laugh. 

“I’ll have you know, that I told her almost like two days afterwards because I couldn’t stomach it.” 

“Huh? Why didn’t you tell us?” 

“It was just funny watching you guys try to be nice to each other. And then Hiromi was dead set on matchmaking the second she figured out Gojo was all but in love with you.” 

You roll your eyes at him in response, as you turn out to walk to the coffee shop before your next class. And as you march to the coffee shop, music blaring in your headphones, you feel a tugging on your elbow as you almost walk in. 

You turn around to find an older man, with blue eyes and light hair, smiling at you. And as you tug your headphones off and hear him talk, you know without a doubt that this has to be Satoru’s father. 

“Are you Y/N L/N?” he asks, his hands folded perfectly against the crisp pressing off his suit. 

“Sure. Who are you?” you ask, yanking your headphones off so they're resting around your ears. 

“I’m Satoru’s father.” 

“Oh, okay. Can I help you?” you asked, running through your thoughts as you think of what Satoru would want you to do most. 

Walk away? Be polite? Insult him? 

Insulting him is surely what you want to do. But knowing him, he wouldn’t even want you to talk to him for a second, so you should try your best to abort the conversation in its tracks. 

“I’d like to talk to you about your intentions. With my son.” he responds. 

“I'd love to do that. But I have to run to class, so I’ll have to go now.” 

“Class? What’s your major?” 

“Education.” 

That must not be the answer he wanted, because he stiffens his jaw before talking again, which just builds onto another reason that this man irritates you. 

“Right, well. I’ll be off then.” you respond, trying to move past him. 

“Are you dating my son?” 

“Not yet. But I think it’s headed that way.” you respond. 

“Well, if you’re so intent on attending your class, here’s my phone number. I’d like for you to call me the second you’re out of your class so we can discuss more.” he states, handing you a shiny piece of cardstock. 

You begrudgingly take it, shaking his hand as you all but sprint off to your class. But unbeknownst to you, Satoru was watching the entire thing play out from the window, with an ice matcha latte in hand just for you. 

He trashes the cup as he walks out. He’s always thought matcha was disgusting anyways. 

And three days later, you find Satoru in the library. In what might possibly, the most compromising of situations. 

You’re a few weeks out from finals, the banquet at the end of the week, and buried with term papers that you need to write. Hence the need to procure your matcha latte, lock yourself in the library for the rest of the week, until you can go to the event with Satoru and let loose before you go home for break. 

Except when you’re trekking through the library looking for a place to study, you find that a really large group is populating your usual prime spot near the window, with the big white board that you like to use. 

But even more jarring than the stupid white board and spot you’re comfortable in, it’s who is taking up the spot. Because Sukuna and his friends are taking up the entire face and there’s a certain white haired idiot sitting all the way at the end, headphones over his ears as he types away on his laptop. 

And you can hear your blood rushing in your ears as you walk up to him, all but yanking the headphones off your ears. 

“Hi Satoru.” 

“Hi Y/N.” he seethes back, matching the anger in your voice. 

“I got you a drink, asshole.” 

He looks down at your matcha latte, before looking back up at you and rolling his eyes. 

“Always intent on not listening to me, aren’t you?” 

“I learned from the best, asswipe.” you respond, marching off to the apartment and fighting down the angry tears that are falling out of your eyes. 

--

With the load of finals behind you and the quietness that populates your apartment, you find yourself begrudgingly dragging yourself to the banquet. And curse yourself for letting Satoru convince you, for already putting in an RSVP so early that now you can’t take it away. 

The room’s uncomfortably warm, the masses of people moving around each other, cheeks blushed pink from the drinks and flutes in all of their hands. You swipe one off of the tray as someone walks past, intent on filling that cold, awkward feeling in your chest with whatever warmth it can give you. 

You take a spot near the corner of the room, a nice vantage point from where you can spot, eye who you can talk to first. Your partner from your English class is stuck talking to your professor, which is frankly a bleak option. 

There’s the group of girls from your cohort, but they’re all talking to Sukuna and his girlfriend, which is a big no for you. And you’d love to talk to your advisor, but you’re positive occupying the solo spot on the wall is better than talking to the one professor that everyone hates. 

And you spot Satoru, his white hair stark against the crowd, as he talks to Hiromi and Suguru. He’s all dressed up, his tie loose around his neck and the top buttons are undone. You suppose that’s as well as Satoru can present for an event like this anyways, and your heart stings at the premise.

Because there's nothing you want to do more than point it out. That everyone’s dressed up, but he can’t even be bothered to put himself together for this. And you want him to argue back, to sport that stupid shit eating grin he always uses when he argues with you. 

It’s irritating. How much it’s killing you to not be with him. 

You pull down the edges of your dress, trying to soothe through the creases that are lining on your green dress, as you try your best to stop that tense, uncomfortable feeling from settling in your skin. 

On the most annoying cue ever, Sukuna walks up to stand by your side, two drinks in his hand. He gestures for you to take one, which you oblige, as you swallow the irritation on your tongue as he starts talking. 

“Y/N.” 

“Sukuna.” 

“Did you poison my drink? Or are you morally above attempted murder?” 

“I believe I am.” 

“Shocking, given your track record.” 

“Are you here alone?” he asks. 

“What’s it to you?” 

“It’s just that you RSVP'd for two people. Yet you’re the only one standing here.” 

“Are you stalking me now?" you ask, eyeing him.

“Maybe a little bit. I was just curious to see who it was you were seeing now.” 

“What’s it to you?” 

“Just have to make sure that they take care of you. That’s all.” he states, shrugging

You roll your eyes, putting a sizable amount of distance between you two. 

“That’s rich coming from you. Leaving me without a place to live is a real gesture of compassion, Sukuna.” 

“Well, I think that-” 

A girl, with short brown hair cuts the two of you off, as she excitedly points to the wallpaper above you. 

“You’re both standing under the mistletoe!” 

You look up, to find a small lock of the plant above the two of you, as you fight the urge to internally groan. 

“Right, well. That’s my cue to leave.” you respond, setting the glass down on the table. 

Sukuna wraps his fingers around your wrist, pulling you into him as you stumble on the edge of your heels. 

“It’s just mistletoe. You have to honor it or that’s like…really shitty luck.” he states, giving you a smile.

“I’ll take my chances. It couldn't possibly be worse than this.” 

“Look. I really hate being on bad terms. You were really important to me and I hate to think that you’re out there being mad at me.” 

“Right, well. Get used to being disappointed then because I’m clear on where I stand.” you respond. 

You make the motions to move again, as Sukuna yanks you back again. Except this time, Satoru’s at your side, nearly shoving him into the wall. He gives you a look, devoid of any emotion, as he adjusts his tie around his neck. 

“You’re not going to kiss her.” he states, teetering on the edges of his heels. Like he’s almost bored, so disinterested in the conversation that he’s having with Sukuna right now. 

“I was just joking. It wasn’t that serious, I wouldn’t even consider it honestly.” he states, as the words sting your ears. You don’t know whether to be relieved, offended, or extremely agitated by the premise of his comment. 

“You’d be so lucky.” he snorts, as you swallow hard. 

“Right. We are talking about the same girl, right?” he sneers. 

Satoru groans, looking up to the sky, before taking his jacket off and handing it to you. You give him a confused look, to which he smiles, before turning back to Sukuna. 

“Rather unfortunate that you chose to mess with the wrong girl. That and the fact that I have no semblance of manners when it comes to these types of things.” 

And then Satoru swings straight for his nose, wincing and shaking his knuckles in the air as Sukuna slams into the wall behind him. There’s a loud gasp, head turning to look at the three of you as you swallow hard. There’s a small amount of bright, red blood falling out of his nose as Satoru gives him a shit eating grin. 

“Thanks for holding it.” Satoru states, taking the jacket from your hands as the two of you watch Sukuna walk off into the side. 

“Right, well-” 

“Satoru.” 

The two of you turn around to find his father, nose flaring and undoubtedly mad, as he appears at your side. Satoru storms out of the room, agitated, as you follow and run behind him. The air outside is significantly colder, snow sticking to the concrete. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, the air so cold that you can see your breath in the air. 

“Yes. Are you?” he asks back, turning around to look at you. He’s kicking the tiny flakes of snow in the ground, averting eye contact with you as he talks. 

“Yeah. Now, I can yell at you.” you respond, shoving him. 

“What’s your problem?” 

“What’s yours?” he asks back, seething. 

“You. You ignored me for like two days and then I found you in the library being all buddy buddy with Sukuna. And then you punch him in the face for no reason?”

“It wasn’t for no reason.” 

“Right. Your hand just jerked through the air and just happened to hit his face.” 

“What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry?” 

You groan, bringing your hands up through your temples, as your frustration comes to a head. 

“Why are you pretending this is nothing? Like we're nothing?” you scream, tears burning your eyes at you look at him. 

“When did I say this was nothing?” 

“’m fucking dying over here to be the person standing next to you, because there’s nowhere else I want to be, and instead I’m standing in the corner trying to avoid you like the plague.” 

His eyes twitch, his hands almost fidgeting at your sides as you angrily wipe your tears off your cheeks and smudge the makeup pressed to your face. 

“You…you’re so fucking aggravating. You’re mean to me, then you’re nice. You act like you love me, but then you don’t. Your best friend tells me that I basically mean the world to you and then your stupid dad ambushes me outside a coffee shop and basically insults me but-” 

“What?” he states. 

“What? I just like…don’t know what page you’re on. You make no fucking sense, you’re so..so hot and cold with me instead of just telling me what’s going on. If you didn’t like me anymore, you should have just said that instead of hurting my feelings.” you state, crossing your arms as you turn back from him. 

He comes up at your side, eyes wide as he looks down at you. He quickly takes his jacket off, wrapping it around your shoulders as the tears stream down your eyes. 

“What did my dad say to you? Was it at the coffee shop?” he whispers, hands braced on your shoulders. 

“Huh? How’d you know that?” 

“Just, tell me.”

“Well, I was going to get my latte. He kind of pulled me aside. Asked me what my intentions were with you. Made some weird backhanded comment about me being an education major and-” 

“And?”

“Gave me his business card. Told me to call him because I kept trying to leave. I think I threw it in a trash can or something.” 

Satoru groans, leaning his forehead against your shoulder, as he curses. 

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.” he murmurs, eyes pinched in regret as he lifts his head back up. 

“What?” 

“Shit. I-I got mad at you. For talking to my dad, behind my back and not telling me. I thought…he was asking you for information about me and you were obliging. That you took his card so you could call him.” 

“You watched that entire thing?” 

“Yeah. And I saw you shove the card into your pocket as you walked away and I just got so angry that I-” 

“That you what?” 

“Hung out with Sukuna. To make you mad.” 

You glare at him, shoving him again for good measure. 

“You did what?” 

“I was upset! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to it was just that-” 

“You didn’t even think to ask me? You just had to be petty?” you scream, your frustration building. 

His eyes go wide, as he swallows hard. He burrows his hands into his pockets, lifting them from your shoulders as he casts his head down. You can tell that his skin is burning, it’s turning slightly pink, as you realize that the reason the two of you weren’t here together, stupidly laughing at everyone, was because of a simple miscommunication. 

“Satoru.” you groan, lifting your hand to your forehead. 

“Y/N. I’m so sorry.” 

“In what world was that fair to me? You didn’t even think to ask?” 

Satoru takes both of your hands in his, lifting them up to cover his eyes with. Your knuckles are flat against his forehead, the ends of his hair tickling your skin. 

“Y/N. I’m so shit at this type of stuff. You’re far too put together for me.” 

“I’m not expecting you to be put together. Just to kind of…work with me here.” you murmur, as he rests his head against your frame again. You’re wrapping your arms around his torso, deflating into his touch. 

“Yeah, well. All I know how to do is fight and-” 

“If you say you’ll love me rather than fight with me, I’ll forgive you.” 

“Huh?” 

“Just promise. That you’ll try to love me. And forgive me before you turn to fighting.” you murmur, cupping his face in your hands. 

“Y/N. I-” 

“You have so many walls that I’m trying to break through. Just try to work with me here when I’m trying to do it.” you whisper. 

“There you go. Doing that thing again.” 

“Doing what?” 

“Seeing the best in me. Making me want to be better.” 

You smile, leaning your head to the side. 

“Is that so bad?” 

“No. No, just. Try to be patient with me? I know I’m really shitty at this type of thing but-” 

“As long as you stick around. And don’t ignore me for five days like a fucking asshole, I promise I will.” 

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to the palms of your hands still secured around his face, as he leans his own forehead against yours. 

“Okay. Just, give it to me straight when…when I do stuff like this.” 

“Okay. I hate it when you’re stupid as fuck and jump to conclusions. Like genuinely, it’s really irritating that I spent all of finals week sleeping in my bed alone when it was obscenely cold and you weren’t there. And you just had to assume shit when you didn’t-” 

“Okay, I get it. Get to the good parts now.” 

“Ego-maniac.” 

“Cmon. I’m wounded here.” he states, holding his bruised hand up to you. You take it in yours, pressing a kiss to the red skin before continuing. 

“I like when you talk to me. And when we get to keep moving forward, past this type of stuff. It’s like…the best part of a story. You get to see the conflict be resolved and then keep going.” 

He smiles hard, nodding at your words. 

“You have to kiss me.” he states. 

“Why?” 

“I’m going to pretend I’m not offended by that heinous look on your face at the thought of kissing me. But, mistletoe.” 

You look up, to find a set of tiny Christmas lights with little embellishments in them, one of which is mistletoe. 

“That doesn’t count.” 

“Yes, it does.” 

“That’s not real mistletoe.” 

He pouts, rolling his eyes at you. 

“Fine. Don’t kiss me then.” 

You wrap your hand around his wrist, yanking him down by the tie to press a kiss to his soft, warm lips. They’re enough to warm up your frozen, nearly frostbitten blue ones, as he shakes his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and smiling into the kiss. 

And you take solace in the fact that at least for that night, the conflict is over. And the story continues.

--

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist:

@porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg

lmk if you would like to be added to the taylor as gojo taglist or my general taglist <3

[aroaceleovaldez]

thoughts on leo valdez? headcdanons? i

[stares at own url] ...I'll give you one for free, lol

Aro/ace Leo.... listen. He explicitly states that he plays up his false persona in aspects that he feels are lacking in his actual personality in an effort to make people like him more, and in his POVs we get a lot of him doing acknowledged-as-nonserious joke-flirting as part of his false persona. Guy who doesn't realize he's aspec trying to overcompensate for his lack of attraction by excessively hitting on people to hide that he doesn't feel attraction towards anyone? Him wondering if he's broken in a whole bunch of ways and trying to make up for it externally while having an identity crisis about that? Something something metaphor about him wondering if cause he's a Hephaestus kid he's a little too much like a machine/robot and can't feel love or The Right Emotions In General™ because of that cause he doesn't know about aspec stuff yet (or that he's autistic)? Can anyone hear me.

Related to that: Leo landing on Ogygia (island of unreciprocated love) and meeting Calypso, who (probably through love magic) actually seems to be attracted to him? And him trying to force himself to reciprocate because he figures that's just how it's supposed to go and maybe for once he's actually experiencing romantic love? And he's so desperate for someone to like him and to feel useful to someone (re: 7th wheel)? But it fizzles out almost immediately after they leave the island, because the heart-eyes wear off for Calypso, especially once she technically no longer needs him, and Leo can't keep up trying to make himself reciprocate (and can't keep up trying to put his mask back up for her, especially now that Calypso seems to actually care about it). I am literally always thinking about this.

Short king,,, I don't care what anybody says he is NOT 5'6" that is way too tall for him. My guy is 5'5" absolute maximum. I usually place him at 5'3". Tiny guy. Made of pipecleaners. Built like Bilbo Baggins...

I've mentioned it before in a couple of places (i know [here] at least) but I did not like his fake-out death in BoO. Also I'm just mad about his dropped character arc(s) in general. My ideal substitute is that instead of dying and being revived, Festus just crashes in the woods nearby and Leo has overexerted his powers too much a la Nico's shadow stuff and is nearly dead but once they get him to the infirmary he recovers and can start working on recovering from his whole depression arc too. Also maybe he loses a leg in the crash so he can match his dad just for funsies, and so that there's some amount of consequence to his sacrifice to make up for him not dying (not like in canon there were any consequences to him dying and being revived anyways...). Also something something accidental Hiccup HTTYD joke. Leo with a prosthetic is always fun. More Hephaestus kids with prosthetics.

I am very amused by the concept of Leo never having any romantic attraction to Hazel at all, possibly even negative romantic attraction once he finds out she dated his great-grandpa (especially since in canon like 90% of his thoughts about Hazel are just kind of appreciative and genuinely thinking she's really cool, if a little confusing at first), and Hazel pretty quickly gets over her side of things once she gets used to the fact that this is Definitely Not Sammy, he just Looks Like Sammy (and does not actually act like Sammy, that's just a fake persona that is eerily similar by coincidence. Real Leo is actually quite reserved and not so much of a vocal goofball most of the time). So they're just besties after their mutual weird Sammy vision and understanding the deeper sides to each other and are each other's person they're most comfortable letting their guard down around cause they've formed that level of trust. Except Frank's over in the corner seething cause he thinks this is a love triangle but he's the only one who thinks that. Leo just thinks Frank hates him for the general reasons he thinks everybody hates him (which is just an assumption he's kind of used to and expects from people, so he does not question it at all). Hazel knows Frank thinks Leo is trying to steal her from him but she's having trouble trying to keep the two of them from nearly killing each other. It's a very homestuck auspistice dynamic.

Leo and Frank eventually work out their stuff and become very good friends to meeee... let them bond over their mutual fear of fire and dead mom trauma! they have so many parallels and I want the two of them and Hazel to be a funky cute little trio!

Dragonkin Leo! That boy is a dragon!!!! I usually say his stuff is kind of spiritual origin (he doesn't really know how to explain it other than his soul is just a dragon) versus like Jason being a wolf therian with a more psychological origin (being raised by an immortal wolf pack rubbed off on him) (rip Piper being the only non-alterhuman in their trio LMAO). I imagine whatever type of dragon he is probably is very similar to Festus, which is part of why Leo clicks with Festus so quickly - he just sees himself in Festus and it's very comforting to him. He definitely makes himself some fun 'kin gear, like a nice weighted tail and wings and claws to try and help his phantom shifts feel a lil less wonky. Also him having dragon talon weapons just sounds cool. He also totally makes gear for any other alterhuman demigods.

[austinsastrology8991]

> Interceptions; through signs/houses <

interceptions are an overcharged, under-appreciated facet within a natives chart. its something you are acutely aware of and are usually extremely distasteful/uncomfortable of. Its something that was neglected in previous lifetimes so you are forced to fix it now...

1st/7th house or Aries/Libra - these people are very noticeable but in a uncomfortable way for themselves and others... they come off extremely strong (they are very imposing accidentally but also not in a good way) and they are always switching between being extremely self conscious of this or very idgaf. This creates a dynamic where they come off very wat da fuq > and are projected onto a lot and have a habit of projecting onto others a lot. 2nd/8th house or Taurus/Scorpio - These people are very insecure, but others are usually extremely unaware of this, which only accelerates the natives insecurity. To others they come off very valuable(2)/powerful(8) but usually they do not relate to this feeling within themselves at all. They however may overcompensate these feelings of inferiority by appearing stronger than they feel inside, and they are very good at convincing others this. Until it does inevitably crumble and everyone is shocked because their facade is relatively strong. 3rd/9th house or Gemini/Sagitarrius - These people are very talkative or the opposite; they are mindful of their answers and those of others, but because of their overthinking tendencies it makes them very fidgety and always need to have a great deal of input into the conversation. This makes others not sure if they smart, because they low key annoying to talk to (ya'll just sayin too much) but they dont appreciate their own cleverness because they mentioned every dot point in existence and this makes them feel stupid; don't know what a summary means or you made 5 summaries which defeats the purpose of one in the first place. 4th/10th house or cancer/capricorn - These guys had a rough childhood and you've never seen a more self protective person of their image. So they never reveal much and this statue-esque vibe they give off is very unesettling and many people talk about this lack of care they display because everyone knows ya'll just give a shit way too much. They avoid responsibility and emotional vulnerability often, and it creates conflicts within their personal life and that of their reputation. 5th/11th house or leo/aquarius - They doin a lot of vibin and not in a viby way. Its too much and they know it too and this creates conflict within their personality of not feeling like they shine in the way they wish they could, so they try even harder to shine the way they envisioned. But too others its the same song / dance we are so used to seeing this with them. This creates conflict in their presence within the community, and it can make them have a poor self image/ identity. 6th/12th house or virgo/pisces - they work a lot but they never satisfied with what they did, so they again work even harder. You can find these guys up at 4 am still tinkering their assignment/ project and even if theirs so many details implanted into it, its never enough and so they still doing more. They also neglect things that are necessary such as eating, or cleaning, because they are so focused on what they wanted to accomplish. This hurts their spirit because they never feel satisfied with what they have done with their life, despite working so damn hard.

> Im going to talk about double signs in my next post; and your double signs are what makes your interceptions far more bearable/ useful. But I want to encourage everyone to work on their interceptions, because it is a weakness, but it really can become a strength if you just put some practical work into it. < How to find interception? easy check yo house cusp; E.g. >

intercepted aries/libra in 12th/6th ;p > BEcause the Aries / Libra symbols is absent ^^^^ also after pisces and before taurus is 'Aries' which is swallowed up within the 12th house****** <That should make it obvious how to read now**** Oh and we always getting 2 gifs do not worry and these gifs *special* they encapsulate intercepted energy perfectly.... actually intercepted energy initself is encapsulation!!!

[wutheringmights]

Thank your for the chapter. This is me submitting my request for director's commentary.

Sorry this is very late.

But, you know.

*gestures wildly at the state of the world*

This is the first chapter in a long time where I was actively having fun writing more than 30% of it. Writing doesn’t always have to be “fun” for me to write it, but spending most of this year stuck on two chapters I absolutely hated did a number on me. 

I still didn’t get to everything I wanted in this chapter; I have been trying to get to the fallout for the Knights of Hyrule encounter for most of this year now (jfc!), but I’ve had to expand the plot points leading up to it. This entire Castle Town arc was planned to be one chapter. Past Frankie was insane for thinking that was possible. 

Pacing-wise, this chapter really did need to be on its own. The important plot points needed their own space to breathe; trying to shove all of this and the contents of the next chapter into one would have led to a lot of things being overshadowed. So even though everything is still moving along relatively slowly, the pacing is somewhat on purpose this time. 

As previously stated on this blog, I sorely neglected updating AO3 with the new chapter total. There is 6 chapters left (5 plot chapters, then an epilogue). Rest easy. This story will take me a while longer yet to complete. 

That being said, don’t be too surprised if I keep budgeting in more chapters. But if this story needs more than 40 chapters, I will abscond from society and become a sheep herder in, like, Iceland.  

(Sorry to front-load the housekeeping information; I usually keep this stuff for the end,  all of this provides context for my first bit about the actual chapter.) 

I am so happy that pre-heart connection stuff with Proxi got its own chapter, as opposed to being included with the post-connection drama of how Link starts clawing his way out of his depression. 

I mentioned last chapter that everything with the first Proxi meeting was an utter failure to me. While this chapter doesn’t erase the problems of the former, it nonetheless is an improvement and more in-line with how I wanted this Proxi storyline to go. 

Link’s depression baths is 100% me projecting-- I had a season of my life where everything in my life kinda fell apart and I became extremely depressed and anxious. One of my coping mechanisms was to constantly take showers. Like Link, I got up to around four showers a day before I was told to knock it off for the sake of the water bill. 

Depression causing a lack of hygiene and self-care is fairly well-represented in media at this point. I relate way more to depression causing a spurt of “good” habits (that are just maladaptive coping mechanisms in their own right) more, and I want to include more of them into my writing. Link seems like the kind of guy who would overcompensate like that too. 

The events of the chapter were condensed from my original vision. The party and the fireworks were going to be two separate incidents, but I wanted to cut down on the bulk of writing each chapter requires of me (more on this later). Luckily, the original idea for the fireworks also included celebrating a holiday (New Years), so the change was easy to pull off. 

I did lose an aspect of that scene I really liked though: Link knowing he was experiencing a trigger deciding to hide in his cellar, all the while congratulating himself for reacting normally while Proxi is like hiding in a cellar isn’t coping, Link!!!!

Fireworks being a trigger is a bit of a cliche, and a part of me really wishes I found something more unique to trigger Link with. But fireworks is a really effective shorthand, partly because it’s so prevalent in real life, and partly because contrasting a celebratory activity with war trauma is so evocative. 

It’s also very silly how significant events in Link’s life keep coinciding with holidays and birthdays. I want to acknowledge both for the sake of world building, but going through the effort of developing them is only worth it if there’s a plot point attached.

But who hasn’t had moments of great revelations while at the family Thanksgiving party?

I like the idea of various holidays/feasts in Hyrule having different levels of importance depending on your tribe or what region you live in, as well as them being celebrated differently depending on your culture. 

Both the Sheikah and the Hylians would place heavy significance on the feast since Hylia is one of their main goddesses, but they would be celebrated differently. I brushed a bit on the idea of the religious ceremonies being different, but I cut back on sharing more of my ideas for the specific celebrations. 

Very specifically, I wanted the Sheikah to have a tradition of performing theatrical plays of significant cultural moments (basically a kabuki-theater version of a nativity play) (can you tell I was raised catholic?). 

I have plans to do something involving a kabuki play next chapter, so I won’t elaborate more on what the play was supposed to be. However, the play did get cut because I planted Link in the banquet hall with no care to move him from that spot. 

I like the idea of moms who are flawed moms in really normal ways. The way Ayane’s mother is very sweet to Link while having these rigid standards for Ayane is very real to life, in part because it’s based on how a lot of mothers I know act to their child’s friends versus their actual child. 

In a similar vein, I’m also fascinated by mothers who fail their children in such specific ways that it would only be a failure to their child-- like a mother giving too much independence to a child who needs more help, etc. That’s my design for these slow (and hopefully subtle) reveals of how Link struggles with his mother’s memory. On one hand, it’s obvious that he was made to feel like a failure of a child, and he probably knows that was wrong of her. On the other, she was a good parent overall and she’s dead. If you have never experienced that particular cocktail of guilt, let me just say that it messes you up. 

The kids who were doing the snowball fight are Ayane’s friends, which is why one of them remarked that Link was going to yell at them again (see: when Link yelled at Ayane the first time he picked her up from school). Katsuki is the only friend of Ayane’s I’ve consistently named-dropped, so I hope that cued you in to who these kids were.

Speaking of which: I stole that name from Bakugo from My Hero Academia. I was watching the show at the time, and I like the character. Ergo, I stole his name.

Link being very aware that he had been triggered during the fireworks show-- I have a very specific gripe about the way people write PTSD that bleeds through this sequence that I cannot explain in a sentence or two. But what’s important is that I have experienced that moment when your body is triggered but your brain isn’t-- so you can start to feel yourself freaking out while in your mind you know there is no threat, yet the body’s reaction starts to cloud your mind, causing a spiral of anxiety and panic. 

Proxi visiting the fairy fountain in Kakariko is one of my favorite scenes. I just like how simple it is, and how it gives a glimpse into what Proxi’s life is like outside of Link.

I did momentarily freak out after posting because I was worried I didn’t make it clear before this chapter that while there is magic lingering at the fountain it can’t heal. But no one has mentioned it yet, so I think I’m safe to wait until a future chapter to clarify that.

Fairies being too small to have more than one emotion is of course taken from Peter Pan. As a long-time lover of fairies (my childhood hyperfixation), it’s a whimsical idea that I just adore. I originally wanted to use that idea as justification for Proxi mirroring Link’s emotions without Link mirroring hers. 

There would be scenes where he is utterly calm while she’s freaking out or crying because he’s good at covering his feelings, but she can’t. I thought this would rid her of too much agency, so I changed it to a mutual sharing of emotions so that Proxi has more space to her own person while still being his “translator.”

I also like the idea of Link being able to gather the ability to talk, but only in relation to comforting Proxi. That’s development, baby. 

I do wish I rewrote that last scene where he feels Proxi’s joy for the first time, as I really like the idea that he would feel a sense of helplessness and horror to be controlled by another person like that. What’s there now is fine, but it could be better.

Now, onto the present-day section: 

It is very, very obvious that I meant to end the last chapter with that conversation between Warriors and Lincoln. Like I said, the original version really sucked (or at least, my original prose describing what the Chain’s arrival at the castle was like). It makes more sense for Lincoln to drop the information about Lionel in the same chapter Lionel is name-dropped.

Lionel was originally going to be Lincoln’s name, but I picked Lincoln since it has the more obvious tie to the Link-Linkle naming pattern. 

Also, this chapter includes a much needed discussion about the ethics of blaming all of the nation’s problems on a single ethnic group. On one hand, it is stupidly effective to utilize bigotry to gather power, and it’s a rhetorical technique even a more morally-upstanding Warriors would use. On the other hand, that’s an objectively terrible thing to do oh my god. 

So I kinda had to go in and cover my bases of having the characters talk and acknowledge what the implications of Warriors’s plan is. The big glaring issue of this conversation is that it also implicates Lincoln and rids him of his moral superiority. 

Personally, I kinda struggle to think of a real-world equivalent to the dynamic I established in the story, where the institution of the Sheikah does a lot of harm while the people within the institution are experiencing the social-consequences of being associated with it. The best I can come up with is Mormoms. 

Either way, I live in fear someone is going to tell me that this is actually about an underprivileged group I am not aware of currently, and I am contributing to their oppression by not critically analyzing Link and Lincoln’s plans correctly. Which would be a valid criticism to make, but one I could avoid if I had just worked out in advance what the hell is this is an accidental allegory for, educated myself, and then fixed the issue. 

If you guys can think of something, let me know so that I can get started on educating myself and such.

The Castle Town arc’s recurring theme is just bureaucracy, which does not make for exciting storytelling. But I do think it’s fitting for Warriors, who used to benefit from the system, to realize all the ways it’s not made to actually help people. I also think he’s the kind of person to realize he doesn’t have the time or ability to rehaul it entirely and has to settle on trying to work within it.

I can finally reveal my “Midna is a fantastic public servant” agenda. My girl was explicitly stated to be a good and dedicated ruler in Twilight Princess, and I will not let anyone else forget it. 

I really wish that this was more of an ensemble story so that I can write about Hyrule and Sky’s adventures in the Castle Town nightlife

If there is one thing I don’t really like about this chapter, it’s the sequence from Warriors talking to Lana about Cia to the end of Icarius’s capture. Reading it back, it really comes off as very corny and very carelessly written.

I initially planned for Icarius to be captured during the bell ringing in the lead up to Warriors trying to draw the Master Sword

I was imagining a scene where they are watching the news about the invasion be announced and, as Warriors is cursing the bad luck of it all, Spirit would just scrunch his brow and say, “Captain.” And Warriors, who is unfortunately drift compatible with him, would be like “go ahead.” And then Spirit would motion for Linkle to follow, and the two of them would reappear after the Master Sword rejected Warriors with Icarius already tied up.

The problem was that would block Spirit off from understanding the whole Master Sword rejection thing, and I really needed him to carve up Warriors’s hand. 

So I punted this whole ordeal with Icarius off to another chapter, and I have been scrambling trying to find another spot for him.

Ultimately, I do think this worked out because I have no idea what the hell the would have done with Icarius during the networking scenes.

After being disappointed with how this version of the capture scene turned out, I was very tempted to cut it and just have Spirit and Linkle haul Icarius into Warriors’s office, but I didn’t want to cut out a scene of Linkle being a bit of a badass. 

And let’s talk about Icarius, because it’s been a while since we’ve thought about him.

First off, you can tell that I was having a lot of fun this chapter trying to find ways to let them have a conversation with Icarius when he can’t speak verbally and they don’t know his sign. The dictionary combined with the gesturing seemed like a fun but logical solution.

Though, in the back of my brain, I kept remembering how stupid I thought that bit in Iron Flame about the translation was. So when I wrote about Warriors translating Faovarian with just a dictionary, I was sitting there feeling like the biggest idiot in the world. 

This scene also reminded me how tragic it is that Icarius can’t speak, because I know how hilarious this man would have been with sassing his captors. 

I also got a chance to put forth the core tenant of Icarius’s feelings for Warriors: mainly, that he thinks Warriors is both insanely handsome but ultimately stupid as all fuck. 

When I first made it clear that the House of Nephus was a reflection of Warriors, Time, and Spirit, I totally thought someone would put together that Icarius, as the Spirit-equivalent, was trying to save Philo. No one ever remarked on it, so maybe it was too obvious to mention. 

(If I were to ever do another one-shot side story in the style of Smoke the Pipe, I would probably do one about Icarius’s life before the events of the plot, if only because I have a lot of ideas of how Faovaria works and how Icarius and Nephus got to where they are now; though I doubt anyone would be as interested in my silly OC’s as I am). 

I also thought someone would figure out Philo was related to the whole Fused Shadow plotline when, in his introductory scene, he used Midna’s powers. I thought it was obvious. 

I also like the idea of the Dark Interlopers having different legacies outside of Hyrule; generally, I’ve just had a lot of fun taking different bits of canon Hyrule lore and figuring out how they could fit into a greater world. My favorite (not in this chapter) example is when Nephus referred the the Three Goddess as oracles mistaken for goddesses. We know Din and Nayru appeared as oracles outside of Hyrule, and Nephus’s line implies that they are still important folk figures in Faovaria, just not goddesses. 

Spirit’s snarky good luck being the nice version of his thoughts is exactly the kind of bullshit I would pull as a socially-inept kid; he realized what he originally wanted to say was too mean so he wanted to convey some kind of recognition that he understood Icarius’s thought process but still wanted to warn him how hard it was going to be. He really, genuinely thought good luck would be the nicest way of conveying that. He’s so bad with people. I love him. 

And, god. Time. Poor guy has walked around his entire life feeling like there has only ever been one person who ever cared for him, only for that one person to turn around and be like yeah I regret helping you. 

Then there’s Warriors who is starting to learn to not let himself get tangled up in fights against Spirit, who is so wrapped up in trying to stop this war that he doesn’t even have the energy to entertain Spirit’s bullshit right now.

Which leaves Spirit alone, with only Warriors to cling on to. 

His conversation with Warriors in the hallway is another favorite of mine, if only because it sounds really natural. I think my dialogue is too on the nose sometimes, so I’ve been trying to let the characters talk around themselves way more. 

Hot tip: if you are writing about men, make sure you mention their facial hair and shaving habits. As a long-time lover of facial hair, I love hearing about characters growing stubble or having to remember to shave in the morning. It’s a little detail that gets overlooked in fiction a lot, and I’m so bitter about it. 

Oh, the newspaper article. Let’s chat about that now. 

Public opinion plays a big role in political intrigue, which I never see enough stories taking advantage of. I knew from the beginning that I wanted Warriors to get exposed in the newspaper after he was well into cleaning up his act, but I wasn’t sure how to go about it. 

As many of you know, one of my most infamous cuts from the story is an original character who was a journalist during the war producing propaganda about Warriors. In the present day, this journalist would have felt so guilty for the role they played that they would have been on the pursuit of writing a story about what really happened back then. They would have been a neutral to antagonistic force in Warriors’s life. 

You can probably guess that this expose was supposed to be their work-- a decision to finally report truthfully despite being asked to lie once more for the greater good. I really wanted to juggle with the ethics of propaganda, and to have a moment where Warriors straddles that moral line by wanting to utilize propaganda for the greater good (but for real this time). 

I cut the character because a) there were too many bozos in this story already, and b) I didn’t think that a plotline about propaganda would be the most useful in a story about a kingdom where the people’s opinion does not matter (in retrospect, that’s a misconception on my part about what propaganda is used for). 

In some ways, I think it did hurt the story a bit to not have a specific character attached to the article. However, I ultimately like having no specific journalist attached to it since it places the blame more squarely on Impa. 

Writing the full article out was most definitely not the best use of my time or the best use of space, but I was worried that if I did not, readers would be really confused as to what the general public did and did not know. 

Stylistically, the article is meant to be more of an profile/investigation piece over a straight-informative blurb. The best example I can find is this article from the Cut on Usha Vance.

(I have spent the past month deep in the anti-Vance think pieces. Fuck both of them. I can’t believe I am going to have to keep hearing about these bastards probably for the rest of my life.)

As you can see, there is the occasional use of first person and more storytelling techniques used alongside facts. I chose this style mostly to make sure the article wasn’t too boring to read. 

I also struggled picking good numbers for the article that would sound severe, without being over the top. I think I picked some realistic stats. But if I messed up, it would be very funny and would invalidate all of my bitching about Fourth Wing’s bad numbers. 

At least I got to use this as an opportunity to drop some new info on you, such as...

Marigold was 19 when she gave birth to Warriors. Yeah, there’s a bit more to the Marigold story that is still left to be uncovered. There is a thematic reason to why Warriors does not seem to acknowledge how young she was when she became his mother.

How do I put this? There’s an irony in him knowing that he was failed by being made responsible for the kingdom at 17, and then not realizing that Marigold was also failed in a similar way. I think people generally have a problem realizing that the problems they see in the world are more widespread than they are, and that they take on multiple forms. And when one thing is wrong in the world, it usually is reflected elsewhere in an unexpected way. 

Warriors believes that Marigold had a responsibility to take care of him because she was his mother despite her age. Warriors had a responsibility to be the hero, despite his age. He understands that just because society at large saw this as his duty, it doesn’t mean it was right. He doesn’t realize this wasn’t Marigold’s duty either to take care of him.

I explored this idea earlier in the story with the use of child soldiers being contrasted with Kat’s underage prostitution. 

Also, Anders Brecht. His last name is a reference to Bertold Brecht, the playwright.

It’s nice to get his story out of Warriors’s perspective of my friend betrayed me and into this is a well-educated activist who was executed for trying to make positive change in the world. To this day, it surprises me how many people were not sympathetic to the turncoats in this story.

Another thematic point: both Anders and Marigold were the Hyrulean-equivalent of leftists. Despite having their influence on him, Warriors still turned out far more moderate than them, and far more prone to causing harm. Insert rant here about how just because you surround yourself with good people doesn’t mean you will turn out like them, etc. 

Spirit being ashamed about the article-- Spirit is definitely someone who understands that just because someone knows you went through some shit, it doesn’t mean they will really give you the validation you want. He’s what happens when the vitamin fantasy doesn’t yield the acknowledgement you thought you were going to get. 

And, finally, Warriors gets put into a corner and manages not to resort to using Spirit to his advantage. I enjoy that Warriors’s determination to not use Spirit as a pawn to sway public opinion back into his favor comes at the cost of, well, being on the verge of losing the goddamn fight. Oh Warriors, you can be a better person now but being a good person doesn’t win wars. 

While the opening conversation between Lincoln and Warriors would have 100% worked better at the end of the last chapter, I do think it’s nice that their conversations are bookends. 

I do think it’s kinda silly that celebrities have to apologize for doing something wrong to the general public, and a part of me wanted to use this story as a means to point that out. But I also have to admit that there is a social reason why we expect it, and I have come out on the side of pro-apology. 

This is the first time in-story that Lincoln hugs Warriors. 

Warriors really needed someone to tell him that they were proud of him and, I won’t lie, I also kinda needed it at the moment of writing. As much as Warriors still has a lot to learn and improve on, it feels good to see him get some of the praise he desperately needs. 

Warriors’s character arc really is just him realizing that while he has to do his heroic duties, he would much rather be living a quiet domestic life with his family. Well, he always knew he wanted that. He just went about it wrong with Spirit and Time. He’s just getting to start over with a better perspective and less coercion. 

And finally, the Knights of Hyrule are arriving. I’m not lying when I say that I have spent most of this year trying to get to this stupid plot point. I thought the trip to Castle Town to now was going to be one chapter. That was back in March. It’s November now. Ugh. 

So yeah. That’s the chapter. 

You might have noticed that my style is a bit different this chapter. Looking back on old chapters, I can see myself overwriting in a lot of places, especially in the narration the explore’s Warriors’s thought process. I’ve been trying to cut that back in order to both clean up my writing and cut down on the sheer bulk of words every chapter requires.

I think it’s working out so far, but I won’t blame anyone for thinking the chapter is a little underwritten, or it seems like I’m putting in less effort into the story. 

Ideally, I would like to get two more chapters out by the end of the year-- one for each month. I have no idea how that will work out when I am as busy as usual and the holidays are coming up. But I will try my best. 

(I also just realized that there is three weeks left to the month and I have not started the new chapter yet. Oof.)

(If I keep up the chapter a month pace, the story will end around April, aka: CTB’s next birthday.)

Thank you to everyone who has kept up with this story for so long. I love writing long stories, but there’s always a point where readership peters out (not surprising; comes with the art form). CTB has long hit this point (taking a four month break this year did not help), so I appreciate everyone who has kept up so far and everyone who has recently given this story a shot. Hopefully the next chapter will worth all the time and dedication you have shown this story so far <3

[creatingnikki]

i have an addictive personality, yes. and I lack self control, fine. now what? do i have an addictive personality because i lack self control or do i lack self control because i have an addictive personality? i never wanted to be a cliche. i never wanted to be that writer awake at one fifty three am smoking her fifth cigarette writing nonsense that could maybe perhaps in some context be called poetic, maybe even art. who do i have to blame for these dysfunctional behaviours of mine that seem to stick to my skin like loose glitter that just won't come off no matter how many times you shower and no matter how hard you brush your skin raw. it's not my parents, they fucked me up just the average measure the way any parents would. they didn't do anything extra special to fill me with trauma. then who? who do i blame? he says its my men, he says they were the ones who fucked me up. but was i not already fucked up and broken in some measure to even attract such men? be attracted to such men? the first one at the age of fourteen, the last one, well, him. my last innocent year was when i was still twelve and at a school christmas party excited to have chocolate brownies david's mother made and listen to the songs my friend couldn't wait to hear with me on her new ipod. i wore a brown jacket that morning and tied my tie with extra attention and smiled when the class took pictures, awkward, out of place but not yet completely aware of the awkwardness, the othering. why was that my last innocent year? because i felt things and thought things without being such a critic about it all. i miss that. and i miss christmas parties at school and those brownies. i hope david's mother is doing alright. and i hope one day i can make brownies that taste half as nice. and that i don't have to overcompensate for what i consider my flaws. that i don't have to hide and edit and alter and psychoanalyze every thought. i hope that i don't end up being my father's daughter in ways that will break both his and my heart. and i hope that one day i can let sadness go. just because you're lonely doesn't mean you tie friendship bracelets to all of life's blues. the sea is calling, it always does. one day, i shall go.

[confessions-official]

old news because mother’s day was months ago but i earnestly cannot fucking believe that my father admitted to my mother that he didn’t get her anything for mother’s day because he was afraid of how she would react without her coming to any sort of realization. i cannot believe that she initiates frequent (monthly? biweekly?) screaming fits at him where she slams doors and stomps and throws things without an ounce of introspection. in fact, it’s always my father who’s the one to apologize after the fact, to which she always tells him to fuck off because she’s still simmering. what does it take? should i have told her that i was also scared of how she would react when i texted her the morning of mother’s day? when am i next going to have the chance to tell her that i am afraid of her? when does she get to know the extent of which i am hyper vigilant of her moods? i wake up moments before arguments break out, no matter when in my sleep cycle i am or how little sleep i’ve gotten, and i can only assume it’s because my body preempts that there’s something worth being alert about. i’ve had recurring dreams where i’ve had to grovel for her forgiveness while she laughed at me or refused to look at me. she gave me the silent treatment for a week when i was sixteen years old because i dared to send her an article saying that misgendering your transgender child is a way of disrespecting them. i still remember that her immediate response was that i have no idea what disrespect is, and that she was too tired to deal with this. there were more cruel texts following; i don’t remember the contents.

we’re both adults. adults communicate. they should be able to, anyway. (she once told me that humans reply in words, not grunts, because she was unhappy with how quiet i was. this was couched in a long text paragraph about how awful i make her feel, which i woke up to after i told her i would prefer to clean my room myself instead of having her help, a statement she took as me banning her from my room. often i wonder how much less confrontational i could have phrased it.) i don’t think that she understands that she makes it an unsafe environment to communicate.

i can’t understand it. i would feel better if i could at least understand her psychology. my running theory is that she is overcompensating for having been blamed for everything in her youth and now she cannot accept when she is actually at fault (even if she claims that she can). but then the truly baffling things, like not eating all day and then getting angry with my father for her having not eaten… it’s not like there’s not food in the house, and it’s not like she’s not being offered anything, or that there’s no variety… and whatever she asks for, she’ll get. i really don’t understand.

one of their arguments i overheard at maybe one or two in the morning had her arguing “if you saw a person bleeding out in the road, would you ask them what they wanted/how to help them or would you just get help?” or something to that effect. but she acts like it’s obvious what she wants. or needs. yet she’s been asked, point blank, what she wants, but never do i hear a concrete response to that. i’m really wracking my brain for what it is that she thinks is so obvious. i just feel like i’m fundamentally missing something that would fix or explain whatever is happening.

and it’s not like the other parties involved are entirely without fault, myself included. but this can’t be the way it’s supposed to be…

am i coming at this from the wrong angle, trying to make logical sense of it? is this just an extended stress response? untreated mental illness? i know she used to be medicated; i don’t know what happened with that. she used to be in therapy; don’t know what happened with that either.

there has to be something i’m missing. but if i haven’t clocked it after years of this, what is it? am i blinded by spite? is it me who lacks empathy?

i just can’t wrap my mind around any of it. as an addendum, i always think that it’s not that bad and that all of this can hardly be counted as traumatic, but then i was triggered by the dinner scene in hereditary and the christmas episode of the bear (with jamie lee curtis), so… maybe that counts for something.

 

[taegularities]

rid, my lovie !! my sweets !!

🚨 : ( rant incoming )

some of these recent asks have been making me want to start throwing gang signs or sum 💀 i know there are always gonna be some of these asks given the vast audience you have, and that they are just drowning in anticipation.

however, the undertone? 😭 do these people realize that you are a prolific writer, churning out quality contents faster than locusts can reproduce and infest? 🤨 RELATIVELY SPOKEN !!

good contents take time to plan, produce and publish !!

REMEMBER THE TRIPLE P. for an author who doesn't even ask you to pay, and responds with kindness only.

so, let's learn and practice more kindness and respectfulness here. thank you. ( sorry, if i sound like a teacher's pet, but rid is just too good to us )

anyway, we are nonetheless excited for your next releases, and 'entertainer' even after all this time.

( rant end )

꒰ ❛ ❜ personal lil message ꒱ ‎

rid, am so sorry for not getting back to your last 'ruined' response. i thought you hadn't answered it yet !! and are you kidding me? a!oc is my babiest baby !! of course, i adore her a lot. i remember somebody saying she is like a 'sunny weekend after a wet weather' or something, but bit more condescending— made me wanna throw some gang signs again, tafaq 😫 had to overcompensate with my repeated 'ruin you' asks, but i promise i equally read and enjoy your other stories. even sent asks about them before ( just not in my 🎀🖇🩵 style, haha ) and i'm thankful for each of the sweet responses from you : every. single. time!!

oh, by the way, i came across this pin today : https://pin.it/2rY2xnZtj

kinda ruined!tae on wedding night coded? 'i missed this' x 'it's only been two days' x 'and? i miss you all the damn time' ❤️‍🔥 can i please just ask what's the duo's moodboard like? ik they are a v monetesque, pastoral, serene and the whole artists garden at giverny + the water lily pond + beach at saint adresse!based couple.

but if possible i still wanna see them more from your artistic mind, my love. thank you. xo.

last but not least, must i mention how proud i am of you bc of the whole gaza take and activism on this platform? 🍉 it might be a bare minimum for a reality so cruel, but it matters. thank you for using your resources, and for saying how you listen to certain artists less bc of their lack of voice on this issue. every act matters. let's stay strong and

—take care. 🎀🖇🩵

gang signs omg lol 😭 honestly, i'm so thankful for the audience and the excitement everybody brings! the tone was a little off, but as i said, i'm pretty sure they didn't mean it that way, so i'm like, not mad or anything hehe. i hope they enjoyed entertainer!! it's true, though, that i've been a bit slow this year, but we try our best in this corner of our world. but thank you so much for saying that 😭 i'm flattered you appreciate my existence here and are so kind <3

it's okay, love, no reason to apologise. a!oc was everyone's baby, like she's still one of my favourite ocs i've written!! it's beyond crazy that people still remember her and this story overall. lmao yeah someone said she feels like a wet weekend after a sunny vacation or something idk it was way out of line, but what can we do.. i laughed 🤣 THANK YOUUUU for dropping by, whether with your signed asks or in any other way ily ily!!!

plsss on their wedding night?

more like always 😂 but so true. their mood boarddd hmmm, wait i'll go and make one rq brb *5 minutes later* i'd say that's them 🥺 def some monet, rain and autumn vibes

and ofc!! i think i could do even more and share even more. every thought counts. i can't even remember saying i listen to artists less, but it's 100% true, and i also try to avoid big chains such as starbucks, which i think we all should. take care as well, love 🤍

[umemiyan]

ROBIN!!! im absolutely in LOVE with postmortem/postpartum, its such a good fic and its so refreshing honestly to see such a creative, interesting concept be explored especially with so much care and love. i said this in my tags but thats rly what fanfic is all about, EXPLORING!!! exploring canon, exploring characters, putting them in new situations and seeing what happens. i love love love it. and seeing gojo in such a brand new, vulnerable light, with both him and reader navigating life as a disabled-coded person following his death and resurrection, is so fascinating. and when he did the divine dogs hand motion to megumi i literally almost cried. if its ok with u, i had a couple questions!!!

what was reader before the incident? a teacher at jujutsu high? just a friend to satoru? im interested in what role they played prior to everything that happened. obviously megumi knew reader, but im curious what that relationship is!!

how with it is satoru? reader had to pick out his outfit and bathe and feed him, we’ve seen that much, but is he able to dress himself? how well does he move - walking and such? does reader always have to help feed him or was that just a one time occurrence to encourage him to eat?

SORRY if im bombarding you with too many questions, i just love this concept so much and im so fascinated with it 🤍🤍🤍

AH HELLO!!!!!!! omg i saw your wonderful tags earlier while i was working and i was just so giddy to read them!!!! thank you so much 💕 i really am enjoying exploring this story and am happy that others are as well 🥹 i felt like maybe the whole thing would just be something only i would be interested in LOL which would’ve been totally fine tbh but i’m thrilled to see it resonating with other people!!

no worries about asking questions at all! thank you for doing so! i realize some things have been rather vague thus far and probably have a few people wondering what the deal is lol

more details will be revealed somewhat soon in the story i suppose, but so far my intention has been for reader to be a sorcerer—not necessarily a teacher, but many sorcerers do of course tend to engage with the school and its students, so that’s where the familiarity comes from. it will also be implied that they and gojo were either classmates or otherwise very close in age during school (that’s a specific detail i haven’t exactly landed on yet lol)

as for satoru, i’ve honestly been playing it a little loose when it comes to his condition thus far, though i would like to perhaps refine some of these details in my mind. however, it’s purposefully meant to come across a bit wishy-washy since it’s truly something that everyone is learning as they go along. in my mind, the time since satoru’s revival/awakening has really not been long at all—maybe two weeks at the most. new things are being unearthed every day.

however!! he is very much inspired by brain injury patients as well as autistic individuals with higher support needs (somewhere in between levels 2 and 3). it’s a bit of a concoction of both (as well as tidbits of other things) based on my own observations and research rather than something that’s more clearly defined as being coded as one or the other, especially since what happened to him was… not normal LMAO so there are some supernatural aspects as well that sort of make it its own /thing/

his motor functions are pretty normal for the most part aside from perhaps the occasional coordination issue, though i almost imagine that his six eyes/powers are automatically trying to overcompensate for such things?? which would in turn cause extra fatigue at the end of the day. but tbh that’s something i’m going to put more thought into!!

one of his biggest issues is with executive function/initiating tasks and making decisions. the cognitive impairments are what require reader’s prompting and assistance a lot of the time. however, reader is also potentially overcompensating (or lacking) in some areas as well simply because they haven’t been able to accurately gauge all of satoru’s capabilities yet and are overall not used to caring for someone at this level.

so while he is actually physically able to perform most tasks, the cognitive function isn’t quite there, nor are the memories on how to engage in certain tasks (probably mostly those with more steps/complications) without prompting and reminders. it can take his brain a little bit longer to calculate and process several things.

i just have this image in my head of reader pulling underwear over their pants or something while trying to demonstrate to him how to get dressed without having to fully intervene LMFAO since they are trying to maintain some modesty/distance at the moment. which… probably won’t last for long tbh because it’s not quite practical at this stage.

but there is maybe a little room for neurological improvement on his end! however, it is not my goal for the story to see that he is “fixed” or anything of the sort, nor do i want it to diminish his person. it’s a balancing act!

sorry i just rambled a lot skdjsjsnshdudidie but once again, thank you so much for reading and asking!!! discussions like these really help me understand my thoughts a lot better and i really enjoy hearing yours as well! it certainly helps keep the inspiration flowing rather than all of these little things getting trapped up in my mind lol 💖

[irish-urn]

Hi Ive been reading your LWD posts. I was wonsering what your thoughts were on George and Nora as parents ( if youre up to sharing them) >>

Greetings! Welcome to my blog! Would you like a cup of tea? A blanket? A lot of conversation? I noticed you reblogged one of my posts with a note that Derek Venturi is YOUR blorbo too!!!! What a shithead. Gosh I love him.

So. You want to know my thoughts about George and Nora as parents. I have a lot of thoughts, actually. Some of them are conflicting.

This is gonna get long, so I'll put it under a Read More.

I guess my first question is: Have you read any of my fics? This isn't me plugging my work; I ask mostly because I think you get a decent idea of a lot of my thoughts via my kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight series, which is basically my idea of what happens after LWD and Vacation with Derek (but NOT Life with Luca).

But basically: I think that George and Nora are good people with good intentions and a lot of heart who aren't actually very good parents (that may make some people upset. oops). I think they love their children very very much. I also think they're very human. And I think their parenting skills are lacking in different ways.

So, as you may have noticed — or maybe you didn't; it's cool either way — I am doing a re-watch of LWD (very slowly because I am very busy and prefer to write and hate watching things by myself) and I'm about halfway done Season 2. And I think they're both lacking in different ways, which in part affects their children but also their lack may be because of their children's personalities.

George: I genuinely think George likes his kids. I think he loves them. I also think he has pretty much given up on raising Derek, and it's only Nora's guidance that is keeping Marti from being a total brat. I think we can assume that the advice and discipline that he gives Marti is the same kind he have Derek and Edwin — I mean, that only makes sense, right? You usually IMPROVE your skills on the younger children, actually, as you get more practice and see the results of the older kids, so he may have actually been even MORE lax with Derek and Edwin. When George DOES discipline Derek, he tends to overcompensate, and it's clear to me from Derek's body language, his reactions, and his lack of respect, that George picks and chooses when he disciplines Derek. It's very inconsistent, and it seems to be based more on when Derek inconveniences GEORGE or costs him money. Inconsistent discipline is, like, the worst kind you can raise a children with: you have to choose a strictness level and then try to stick to it, even if it's super relaxed. It's the inconsistency that's problematic!!! George's parenting style has raised three brats — and I love the Venturis. I really do. But my GOSH are they bratty!!!

I think George mostly enjoys being a dad, but likes the fun parts a lot more than the rotten parts. I think George really likes how grown up and easy Casey and Lizzie are compared to his children. I think he's gonna be an AMAZING grandpa. I have a LOT of HCs about Derek's childhood that get incorporated into my fics, including this idea that Abby got pregnant with Derek before she and George were married, and George felt the need to grow up FAST to be a dad, and just... Didn't really finish the job. I think he sees a lot of himself in Derek, and a lot of the the things he sees are the parts of himself he doesn't like.

Nora: I think Nora loves her daughters and her new stepchildren. I think, however, that her divorce to Dennis was BRUTAL. Unlike Abby and George's, which I've always imagined as more mutual, there's something about the way Nora panics with Dennis comes to visit and how Casey and Lizzie act around him that gives the impression that it was a NASTY divorce. I think Nora probably leaned a lot on her two girls (understandably so), and I think the three of them saw each other as a team. I think Nora started to see Casey as a combination of her best friend, right-hand man, and almost redemption for the mistakes of her marriage. I think, by accident, Nora puts a lot of pressure on Casey (and Lizzie), and the two of them react accordingly (I also think Casey tries to shelter Lizzie from this when she can. Casey is VERY much an example of parentification).

What does this mean? Something I've noticed is that Nora cares a LOT about how their family is viewed. When Lizzie makes them take the quiz about the children and they fail, Nora is upset -- but doesn't actually do anything to solve the problem? When Lizzie points out about their carbon use, Nora is worried what it will look like to the OTHER moms. I think Nora loves her girls and is doing her best to raise them... I just also think she's tired. Sometimes the way she reacts to Casey is like, 'Oh my, she's just being a dramatic teenager' which, while true, does not invalidate Casey's feelings and problems!! I think Nora does a lot more parenting that George, but doesn't always hit the finish line. Sometimes, she just sees it and calls it good enough.

What does this mean? I think it means they tried. I think it means they're human. I think they have full time jobs and five dramatic children and past-marriages that have left scars on them. I in NO WAY think the five/six children are abused whatsoever. I just think that sometimes Lizzie is so good that she slips through the cracks; I think Derek has done a lot more raising of BOTH Edwin and Marti than anyone is willing to admit. I think Casey has anxiety because of the parentification. I think Derek's distaste for authority and his faux-casualness is his reaction to George (and Abby)'s inconsistent parenting style.

So, tldr: I don't think they're good parents. I also don't think they're BAD. I just think they could've been a lot better.

[melonteee]

i just wanted to say that i love your videos, more specifically your analysis ones. (one piece and the especially the yugioh ones) you’re so well-spoken and every video essay is so articulated, i feel like i just attended a lecture class for the one piece 1101 course taught by dr. melonteee. i love hearing your interpretations of the characters and what you make of different arcs or topics. (i also love how you say “wano” i literally only say it in the way you do now it’s so satisfying and scratches an itch in my brain) i make jewelry and i always put them on in the background to listen to while i work. honestly, if you had a podcast i would 100% listen to it <3

i found you through your boa hancock video. when i watched it, i teared up, because the way you talked about her story was so understanding and emphasized all the parts of her i love. it felt like you fully understood her character. i really connect with boa and she’s my favorite out of all the one piece girls. as a survivor of sexual assault, boa’s internalized guilt over something she couldn’t control and the way she overcompensates in her actions is something i relate to. you described her so well in your video and it was refreshing to see someone else with a different opinion of her. i’ve seen so many times people reducing her character into only the bad parts. that she’s only there to support luffy or that she’s annoying and it hurts. she deserves to experience romance, whether it’s reciprocated or not, and she deserves to be a bit excessive. that’s what i love about her!! she’s dramatic and unapologetic. it’s the best!!!!! it’s important to talk about characters like her and to see survivors as more than just that, but as people, who do or say ridiculous things. i’m sorry to turn this into a boa hancock rant i just love her a lot and your video on her was amazing.

thank you so much for talking about her and handling her story so well. you’ve really inspired me to look deeper into these characters and made me want to understand them a bit more. i love listening to whatever you make and i get so excited when you post. i’m glad that you’re enjoying making these videos. thank you thank you thank you!!!! have a good day/night!! <3

!!! Thank you so much!! This all means a lot to me truly, and I’m so happy I reached so many people with that Boa video. She really touched my heart the way she touched yours, and one of the reasons I made it is because I couldn’t stand how people saw her as this detestable, annoying being for her surface level actions.

I’m also truly sorry for what happened to you anon, and that was another reason Boa being perceived the way she did upset me so much. Because I could see exactly what her story was supposed to portray, and more than anything I wanted people to understand she IS a victim and her stone mask is due to that lack of empathy she never received. While Boa is a comical character, how she processes her trauma and what she feels is so painfully realistic, and I felt there must be a pain some real life people who relate to her would feel in seeing how Boa is hated by a fair chunk of fans.

But of course, anyone is free to dislike Boa! I just want everyone to have more of an understanding of her, and I really am so happy my essay on her spoke to you. We can really learn empathy through what we watch sometimes, and Boa’s story made my heart hurt so much that it truly taught me a lot in terms of how trauma can shape a person.

I hope you’ve found healing and love anon! I know you’re on anonymous, but speaking of your own experiences still takes a lot of strength, and I’m glad this space I’ve catered made you feel comfortable enough to do so.

Also, I’d love to make a podcast! I just don’t have many ideas for one HAHA but!! If I ever have a brain blast, I’ll be sure to start one! Thank you again! 🫶

[luwha]

I… don’t feel excited about being an artist anymore. At least not until this shitstorm that is AI settles, for better or for worse.

Don’t get me wrong, I will draw with all I have. I will strive to be better still. I want to deliver a nice commission that means a lot for me and you. I love what I do. I won’t do different, that’s how I was built.

Just… how do I put it. As a child I always wanted to have ANYTHING worth putting on ArtStation or deviantart, I always wanted to make the wonderfully beautiful art those creators did, I look up to them and will do until I die. I, of course wanted a seat at industry, but it’s just as far fetched as a child who wants to be an astronaut. It’s hard and ain’t for everyone.

No matter the resolution, AI is here to stay, for worse cuz there’s no better on it. Now, that distant dream of ever reaching industry… is gone. Not that I gave up, just impossible. Just.. gone. I barely had a chance before, now it’s over. I’ll never ever have a chance.

I have a style and I do know I lack a bunch of fundamentals, because I am and still am self taught. I struggle to retain knowledge and read because ADD and that doesn’t make me the most reliable, but I do overcompensate being as consistent as a computer can be, working as intensely as a factory worker. I draw fast, at least. I crank a commission every 3 days, because work is my PASSION, I LOVE doing it.

But now it’s not enough and will not ever be. Those people and companies no longer need people to try, to learn. For book covers, card games, propaganda and everything that I aimed for, gone. They no longer need me, they didn’t need before.

I will draw until I die. It’s all I can do. I love it and god, I wish I had a better future. That all of us artists had a better future.

I won’t stop, but I am grieving a bit what I dreamt for so long.

[bl00dh0rs3]

I really need a name for this au. Anyway i nailed down their color schemes (flats and some character design-y thoughts notes below)

Aw man im really about to go in on this here, ok--ill stick to just design stuff and a bit of Their Deal^tm for now! ill explain the au in full some other day, with a more polished drawing.

Alright so. I am still doing research, its ongoing, but i think ive decided that, in this au, their relationship is something more akin to... in a past life they were the same, but for spiritual development reasons, the qi that made That person split, and went on to reincarnate as Them--narratively this is going to make them function like. Just normal Foils lmao--just with an added umph of it being somewhat literal for them, in the scope of their world, if that makes sense! I dont want to put myself in the box of calling them brothers, bc it just irritates me, but they are Not going to be romantically involved in this au either--SWK has enough trouble in his weirdly uneventful but still tumultuous love life as it is (👀 at Erlang and ZBJ), im not going to torment him by adding his evil clone to that list LMAO. Also LEMH aromantic as hell bc i said so.

Also their both trans thats very super important. Trans monkeys forever obviously

Anyway, So theyre still sort of "the same person", yet not, as they had still Never properly met (until Liu'er chapter)--their both incredibly similar and incredibly different, due to the imbalance of the energies within them and the actions they took for the majority of their lives. SWK is the yang, extroverted and bold and destructive and take-no-shit, while LEMH is the yin, (at least in this story) by being reclusive and a bit of a pushover for the longest time--the, erm.... Outburst, being the result of built up resentment and imbalance within himself spurning him to overcompensate for what he was lacking. It's kind of complicated and intricate and i like it that way if describing it is kind of rough Pfft--but anyway!

Point is, i wanted ALLLL that to be reflected in their designs by giving them plenty of Contrasting but Complimentary, and even sometimes juxtaposed details! The incorrect yin yang belt buckles/brooches are the most obvious one i think, next to the general warm vs. cold color palettes--then there's Liu'er being shirtless and with shorter hair, just to bring a sense of masculinity into his appearance, counterbalancing the fact that he's otherwise very feminine and in line with his Yin nature. Id say i made SWK's hair longer for the same kind of reason, but given that long hair isnt seen as inherently feminine, mileage can vary on that--if one reads it that way then yay, fun detail, and if not, then you still get to be looking as a SWK with long hair, and thats always a win in and of itself.

The red parts of their face are also matching--SWK's making up the over eye and LEMH's the under eye, to visually indicate the "this is the same person split in two" dealio. I also tried to make SWK appear a bit more Rounded and Soft, curving his cheek tuffs and little beard In a bit more (belying a gentler nature and other. Yknow, Round thoughts underneath his theatricality (contrasting with his yang-ish behavior), while LEMH's is sharp and feathered out (bringing to mind hostility and action and other Sharp thoughts, equally in contrast with his usually yin-ish nature).

They were initially going to both have the fillets on their heads, for reasons Like the ones above, but without a shirt Liu'er torso was feeling empty and i felt like he needed something to break up the grey of his fur--so, necklace. Hes bouta get choked tf out dont worry about it ❤

Uhhh thats all i can think of writing down right now, feel free to let me know if any of it is kind of Eh, constructive criticism and all that--if you saw any typos no you didnt, thank you for coming to my ted talk and have a groovy day