#it hits different when its in the images

[tjhmnd]

He was the first openly gay child of a president. You will NEVER know the vitriol, the evil he suffered when he came out, against his will, as a boy in the White House.

carrd. 🥂 blog.

tjhmnd: tj hammond of political animals. please do not follow if you are triggered by sex as a coping mechanism or drug abuse. 21+ muns only please.

[rxttenfish]

merfolk in general are just. horrible horrible polyglots. their brains are already hardwired for language and quick language acquisition that remains active all their lives, further helped by retaining a high neural plasticity for their long lives, and especially enjoy complex language and language-based play and problem solving. but they also tend to have a lot of their society arranged where there's often multiple different languages at play within the same area, and only really stops being so once you get into especially small villages that have below the merfolk norm for outside contact. every merfolk alive today knows at least two languages, but most of them know far more than that, especially because one of those two will be the common-technical language. its been standardized and wide-scale implemented across the merkingdom after their dominance, to help bridge the gap between these different languages, basically as a successful version of esperanto. but its a trade language, and is mostly used for information you might want to reach as many people as possible, such as laws or business dealings or public announcements or the like. most merfolk don't view it as and don't treat it as a language proper, and its not what they prefer to converse in if they have another choice, usually finding it pretty limiting and restrictive, which is why its called common-technical.

miranda, being a royal who is regularly in contact with many different people around the merkingdom and regularly expected to be fully able to converse with them to do her job, knows just. so many languages. i might be changing exactly how many soon, but last time i counted it was in the low teens. like its just a perfect storm of her brain being wired for swift language acquisition and having a job that requires it and a position that means shes constantly around people from all around the merkingdom. not to mention having to know english too, which isn't just not her first language, it's not even her fourth language.

meanwhile, aaravi knows english and a little bit of hindi, less because of her mother and moreso because of her nana... its not that her mother never used it with her, but she was. less focused on using it or teaching aaravi, let's say. nana mishra uses it a lot more and is more interested in teaching aaravi when she asks her, especially in the intermittent period after her mom died and nana mishra was able to come back into her life to help aaravi pick up the pieces (though not after aaravi kind of. got left on her own. for an unfortunate amount of time). its just also fallen by the wayside with aaravi's whole Everything Else and kind of having a hard time accepting her nana's help and kind of being terrified of her (of no fault of her nana's, aaravi's just. she's just really traumatized after Everything, alright. having someone try to offer her help afterwards, especially when aaravi's scared of getting singled out as half human and half monster, is just. it's not something she can bring herself to trust.)

[puppetmaster13u]

have a very early wip of a tea party :>

This is @phoenixcatch7 's Possessed Doll Au

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[crowned-bottom]

As a professionally trained and actively working photographer I have access to so many cameras including not one but FOUR polaroids and yet no butch is asking me for polaroid nudes to keep in their wallet :(

[ebonytails]

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️

Heart rate has reached dangerous levels❗️

Initiating culling procedures.👁️‍🗨️

[ragnars-tooth]

Biannual chamberlain crew posttt

I think they're silly, nay, goofy

[bingobongobonko]

gritting my teeth. im too tired to draw, several scenes at that, but i am imagining little vignettes and it pisses me OFF. one of yves and elias sitting on elias' balcony, overlooking the entirety of keeden. another one of jeurgen, eyes wide, computer illuminating his whole face as it flashes with different messages, and another of kass hunched over as she speaks to her newly-born NHP in curious wonder, and then of telly, who just keeps lookin in the mirror at his own face, his. well. everything. his suit's done.

[princekirijo]

I'm forcing myself to see Spiderverse tomorrow. Executive Disfunction has made me put this off for too long 😭

AS YOU SHOULD BRO!! Trust me the movie is so so worth it, all the characters are amazing, the story is so good and the animation is amazing 😭 it's on par with the original easily and I think I even prefer it (only by a small margin I will say). Oh and the music is amazing I've had the credits song on repeat for the past couple of days.

Oh I will say just be mindful of flashing images they don't really warn you before hand but there's a fair bit of it in the movie.

[autisticlittleguy]

There was a paper in 2016 exploring how an ML model was differentiating between wolves and dogs with a really high accuracy, they found that for whatever reason the model seemed to *really* like looking at snow in images, as in thats what it pays attention to most.

Then it hit them. *oh.*

*all the images of wolves in our dataset has snow in the background*

*this little shit figured it was easier to just learn how to detect snow than to actually learn the difference between huskies and wolves. because snow = wolf*

Shit like this happens *so often*. People think trainning models is like this exact coding programmer hackerman thing when its more like, coralling a bunch of sentient crabs that can do calculus but like at the end of the day theyre still fucking crabs.

[fxrheisenn]

Andrus Laansalu talked about making Disco Elysium at EKA (Estonian Academy of Arts)

"Initially, the church wasn't a focal point. There were certain characters that needed to visit this location, and I asked, "Seriously, what do we have in our church?" The others replied, "Nothing at all. Our church is completely bare—just a wheel, really. It's quite basic."

That's when I decided to unleash my creativity in the design. For example, they chose to install a glass structure at the top of the church to create a reflective surface. It was like placing an optical clock up there. Therefore, one of the most crucial aspects of designing the church was ensuring the lighting was just right to create the desired atmosphere."

"Let me show you an example of Baroque architecture, which is rich in detail. We're also designing the interior of the church based on large cathedrals. However, the foundation you use might not yield the expected results, because the church itself doesn't require such intricate details. Sometimes, it's about simplifying the design."

"I used Articy for the initial scriptwriting of Disco Elysium. The image only represents a tiny fraction of the text and choice variables involved. This system was also the reason I eventually abandoned the project after a year of outlining the script and shifted my focus to becoming a sound designer. My mind struggled to keep up with the dynamic graphic rules, but fortunately, a more talented writer took over afterward."

"In terms of sound design, it's essential to develop different layers to bring out the charm of the church as a cohesive space. Although this represents only a small portion of the overall design, each layer actually requires a significant amount of time to compose the whole....... Whenever there's a shift or a change due to the dialogue itself, you need to adjust the background sounds. Each time you modify the details in the dialogue, I have to refine the background audio, ensuring that these elements build upon each other like an intricate layer of work."

"It's funny how many scenes involve characters getting smacked in the face. My job was to recreate those, so I locked myself in the bathroom with a recorder and hit my forehead until it turned red.

As a sound designer, I really dig those unsettling, drill-like sounds. So, I mixed in creepy lectures, metal scraping, moans, and cries of pain—because I just love that stuff! (laughs)

Players will be moving through all kinds of areas, so it's super important to make the sound transitions feel natural, trying to create a more immersive vibe in certain spaces.

With all the scenes featuring big cranes, you can hear them from far away, and I wanted to capture that eerie ringing in your ears. That's going to be a thing throughout most of the game. I've found ways to really mess with players while they're playing!"

"I've come across a lot of old objects (like phones and radios) that I needed to perfectly replicate the sounds. I started to become a bit of a hoarder, buying up different models of old phones whenever I found one to add to my collection. The sound effects I can simulate from them are really impressive."

"Some of the devices don't actually exist in real life—just a mix of architecture and tech. When I need to create sound effects, I first look for something similar that exists in our world, then I try to simulate what the sound and appearance of that thing might have been like a century ago.

Towards the end of the game, there's a character carrying a fuel canister. We needed the sound of the canister, so we dug one up from our garage—it had been sitting there since it was five! I realized this would make the sound perfect. So, it had been there for 50 years, and after 40 years, it finally found its purpose.

In some places, I needed unique sound waves, and recreating them was a real headache until one day I happened to walk by a swimming pool and stumbled upon an old wartime torpedo. You can rotate the torpedo's probe, and it slowly rises up, like a proud zombie head. The sounds it made were exactly what I needed!"

🙋How did you manage to get funding?

"Well, since we're in Estonia, you just need to know a wealthy person. You don't need five people—just two who can network, hang out together, and convince them to keep investing! (laughs) Back then, we constantly ran out of money and would tell them, 'Oops, looks like we spent it all! Can you invest a bit more?' That's how we made it through!"

🙋How did you all come together to make the game?

"Luck. It usually doesn't happen this way, and that's the key difference. It has to be. If not, you couldn't create a game of this scale - well, I mean in terms of budget. But creatively, Estonia definitely has writers and artists who can pull it off. With such a small population, there are a lot of quirky folks who are good friends. We were really lucky, though - lots of fortunate circumstances came together. It brought the right people together, allowing those talented fools to collaborate with us. They had experience but hadn't tackled projects of this magnitude before. So yeah, luck is pretty important!"

Lecture experience shared by 白兔YIYANG SUN on 小红书, reposted & translated by me with her permission.

[homo-house]

hey uh so I haven't seen anyone talking about this here yet, but

the amazon river, like the biggest river in the fucking world, in the middle of the amazon fucking rainforest, is currently going through its worst drought since the records began 121 years ago

picture from Folha PE

there's a lot going on but I haven't seen much international buzz around this like there was when the forest was on fire (maybe because it's harder to shift the narrative to blame brazil exclusively as if the rest of the world didn't have fault in this) so I wanted to bring this to tumblr's attention

I don't know too many details as I live in the other side of the country and we are suffering from the exact opposite (at least three cyclones this year, honestly have stopped counting - it's unusual for us to get hit by even one - floods, landslides, we have a death toll, people are losing everything to the water), but like, I as a brazilian have literally never seen pictures of the river like this before. every single city in the amazonas state is in a state of emergency as of november 1st.

pictures by Adriano Liziero (ig: geopanoramas)

we are used to seeing images of rio negro and solimões, the two main amazon river affluents, in all their grandiose and beauty and seeing these pictures is really fucking chilling. some of our news outlets are saying the solimões has turned to a sand desert... can you imagine this watery sight turning into a desert in the span of a year?

while down south we are seeing amounts of rain and hailstorms the likes of which our infrastructure is simply not built to deal with, up north people who have built everything around the river are at a loss of what to do.

the houses there that are built to float are just on the ground, people who depend on fishing for a living have to walk kilometers to find any fish that are still alive at all, the biodiversity there is at risk, and on an economic level it's hard to grasp how people from the northern states are getting by at all - the main means of transport for ANYTHING in that region is via the river water. this will impact the region for months to come. it doesnt make a lot of sense to build a lot of roads bc it's just better to use the waterway system, everything is built around or floats on the river after all. and like, the water level is so incomprehensibly low the boats are just STUCK. people are having a hard time getting from one place to another - keep in mind the widest parts of the river are over 10 km apart!!

this shit is really serious and i am trying not to think about it because we have a different kind of problem to worry about down south but it's really terrifying when I stop to think about it. you already know the climate crisis is real and the effects are beyond preventable now (we're past global warming, get used to calling it "global boiling"). we'll be switching strategies to damage control from now on and like, this is what it's come to.

I don't like to be alarmist but it's hard not to be alarmed. I'm sorry that I can't end this post with very clear intructions on how people overseas can help, there really isn't much to do except hope the water level rises soon, maybe pray if you believe in something. in that regard we just have to keep pressing for change at a global level; local conditions only would not, COULD NOT be causing this - the amazon river is a CONTINENTAL body of water, it spans across multiple countries. so my advice is spread the word, let your representatives know that you're worried and you want change towards sustainability, degrowth and reduced carbon emissions, support your local NGOs, maybe join a cause, I don't know? I recommend reading on ecological and feminist economics though

however, I know you can help the affected riverine families by donating to organizations dedicated to helping the region. keep in mind a single US dollar, pound or euro is worth over 5x more in our currency so anything you donate at all will certainly help those affected.

FAS - Sustainable Amazon Fundation

Idesam - Sustainable Developent and Preservation Institute of Amazonas

Greenpeace Brasil - I know Greenpeace isn't the best but they're one of the few options I can think of that have a bridge to the international world and they are helping directly

There are a lot of other smaller/local NGOs but I'm not sure how you could donate to them from overseas, I'll leave some of them here anyway:

Projeto Gari

Caritás Brasileira

If you know any other organizations please link them, I'll be sure to reblog though my reach isn't a lot

thank you so much for reading this to the end, don't feel obligated to share but please do if you can! even if you just read up to here it means a lot to me that someone out there knows

also as an afterthought, I wanted to expand on why I think this hasn't made big news yet: because unlike the case of the 2020 forest fires, other countries have to hold themselves accountable when looking at this situation. while in 2020 it was easier to pretend the fires were all our fault and people were talking about taking the amazon away from us like they wouldn't do much worse. global superpowers have no more forests to speak of so I guess they've been eyeing what latin america still has. so like this bit of the post is just to say if you're thinking of saying anything of the sort, maybe think of what your own country has done to contribute to this instead of blaming brazil exclusively and saying the amazon should be protected by force or whatever

[physalian]

How to make your writing sound less stiff part 2

Part 1

Again, just suggestions that shouldn’t have to compromise your author voice, as I sit here doing my own edits for a WIP.

1. Crutch words

Specifically when you have your narrator taking an action instead of just… writing that action. Examples:

Character wonders/imagines/thinks/realizes

Character sees/smells/feels

Now not all of these need to be cut. There’s a difference between:

Elias stops. He realizes they’re going in the wrong direction.

And

Elias takes far too long to realize that it’s not horribly dark wherever they are

Crutch words are words that don’t add anything to the sentence and the sentence can carry on with the exact same meaning even if you delete it. Thus:

Elias stops. They’re going in the wrong direction.

I need a word in the second example, whether it’s realizes, understands, or notices, unless I rework the entire sentence. The “realization” is implied by the hard cut to the next sentence in the first example.

2. Creating your own “author voice”

Unless the tone of the scene demands otherwise, my writing style is very conversational. I have a lot of sentence fragments to reflect my characters’ scatterbrained thoughts. I let them be sarcastic and sassy within the narration. I leave in instances of “just” (another crutch word) when I think it helps the sentence. Example:

…but it’s just another cave to Elias.

Deleting the “just” wouldn’t hit as hard or read as dismissive and resigned.

I may be writing in 3rd person limited, but I still let the personalities of my characters flavor everything from the syntax to metaphor choices. It’s up to you how you want to write your “voice”.

I’ll let dialogue cut off narration, like:

Not that he wouldn’t. However, “You can’t expect me to believe that.”

Sure it’s ~grammatically incorrect~ but you get more leeway in fiction. This isn’t an essay written in MLA or APA format. It’s okay to break a few rules, they’re more like guidelines anyway.

3. Metaphor, allegory, and simile

There is a time and a place to abandon this and shoot straight because oftentimes you might not realize you’re using these at all. It’s the difference between:

Blinding sunlight reflects off the window sill

And

Sunlight bounces like high-beams off the window sill

It’s up to you and what best fits the scene.

Sometimes there’s more power in not being poetic, just bluntly explicit. Situations like describing a character’s battle wounds (whatever kind of battle they might be from, whether it be war or abuse) don’t need flowery prose and if your manuscript is metaphor-heavy, suddenly dropping them in a serious situation will help with the mood and tonal shift, even if your readers can’t quite pick up on why immediately.

Whatever the case is, pick a metaphor that fits the narrator. If my narrator is comparing a shade of red to something, pick a comparison that makes sense.

Red like the clouds at sunset might make sense for a character that would appreciate sunsets. It’s romantic but not sensual, it’s warm and comforting.

Red like lipstick stains on a wine glass hints at a very different image and tone.

Metaphor can also either water down the impact of something, or make it so much worse so pay attention to what you want your reader to feel when they read it. Are you trying to shield them from the horror or dig it in deep?

4. Paragraph formatting

Nothing sticks out on a page quite like a line of narrative all by itself. Abusing this tactic will lessen its effect so save single sentence paragraphs for lines you want to hammer your audiences with. Lines like romantic revelations, or shocking twists, or characters giving up, giving in. Or just a badass line that deserves a whole paragraph to itself.

I do it all the time just like this.

Your writing style might not feature a bunch of chunky paragraphs to emphasize smaller lines of text (or if you’re writing a fic on A03, the size of the screen makes many paragraphs one line), but if yours does, slapping a zinger between two beefy paragraphs helps with immersion.

5. Polysyndeton and Asyndeton

Not gibberish! These, like single-sentence paragraphs, mix up the usual flow of the narrative that are lists of concepts with or without conjunctions.

Asyndeton: We came. We saw. We conquered. It was cold, grey, lifeless.

Polysyndeton: And the birds are out and the sun is shining and it might rain later but right now I am going to enjoy the blue sky and the puffy white clouds like cotton balls. They stand and they clap and they sing.

Both are for emphasis. Asyndeton tends to be "colder" and more blunt, because the sentence is blunt. Polysyntedon tends to be more exciting, overwhelming.

We came and we saw and we conquered.

The original is rather grim. This version is almost uplifting, like it's celebrating as opposed to taunting, depending on how you look at it.

—

All of these are highly situational, but if you’re stuck, maybe try some out and see what happens.

*italicized quotes are from ENNS, the rest I made up on the spot save for the Veni Vidi Vici.

[fishsfailureson]

"What is to come"

(image id is both in the alt text and below the read more- I put it under one because it's incredibly long)

And so there we have it, the 200+ followers artpiece that I have been working on for several days, if I had to guess I'd say it took 25 or so hours over eleven days. Honestly it's so surreal to me that I'm here with over 200 followers (260 as of typing this- yes, I procrastinated on this), especially when I only hit 100 followers in February. It's genuinely really nice to know that people are actually interested in my art (before anyone brings up spam bots- I know there are a few of them amongst my followers but I've checked most of them and I am 100% confident that over 200 of them are real). I don't really have much else to say really- I'm just grateful to have the support. Thanks y'all :).

[Image id: a large, lineless digital drawing of several dinosaurs. It is nighttime. At the bottom of the piece, a lone Eoraptor lunensis is walking across the floodplains- both the ground and the Eoraptor are just silhouettes, the early dinosaur has been given protofeathers. The full moon is shining, it's size is exaggerated for artistic affect. Behind the moon, the heads of sixteen different dinosaurs can be seen (listed left to right, bottom to top) Row 1- Thecodontosaurus antiquus (small sauropodomorph with light brown protofeathers, near-white undersides, straight stripes that are moderately darker than the base colour and vibrant green eyes), Coelophysis bauri (small early theropod with a long and narrow skull, its protofeathers are golden and black. A soft orange stripe runs across the back of its head, it has warm brown eyes. Row 2- Plateosaurus trossingensis (long-necked sauropodomorph, it has reddish-brown scales, light undersides, triangular stripes running down it's spine that get bigger the further down they get and pale yellow eyes), Heterodontosaurus tuckii (small ornithopod with a hooked grey beak. It has spiky green feathers, a lighter chest and a darker stripe running along its head and back, there are three small spots on its face, two behind the eye and one infront of it, it's eyes are bright yellow). Row 3- Megalosaurus bucklandii (medium-sized theropod with warm brown feathers, lighter undersides, dark spots and bright yellow eyes, there are several scars on its face), Brachiosaurus altithorax (greenish-grey true sauropod with lighter undersides, a dark pink patch on its throat, dark desaturated brown eyes and a few small scars on its neck), Archaeopteryx (early toothed bird with a black head, white neck and bright yellow eyes). Row 4- Hylaeosaurus armatus (pale brown ankylosaur with lighter undersides and vibrant green eyes), Velociraptor mongoliensis (dromaeosaur with light brown feathers, a lighter chest, a black stripe near its eye and light green eyes), Sinosauropteryx prima (small compsognathid theropod with ginger protofeathers, an off white mask and undersides and pale yellow eyes), Iguanodon bernissartensis (large greenish-grey ornithopod with a slightly darker back, pale undersides, a grey beak, and yellow eyes). Row 5- Matuku otagoense (heron with medium grey feathers and a small crest. A red stripe runs from just behind its nostrils to about a third of the way down its neck. Its undersides are white, its beak is grey and its eyes are brown), Triceratops prorsus (three-horned ceratopsian with grey-brown scales, lighter undersides, two triangular stripes between it's brow and nasal horns, reddish-orange diamond-like stripes on its frill, a hooked grey beak and golden eyes. Its brow horns curve forward at the base. Row 6- North Island brown kiwi (plump brown bird with a long pale beak, whiskers and black eyes, its nostrils are at the tip of its bill, and unlike the other dinosaurs in the sky part of its body below the neck is visible), male house sparrow (small redish-brown and grey bird with a black bib below it's bill), it has brown eyes and a dark grey bill. Row 7- rock dove (grey bird with iridescent green feathers scattered across its neck, a dark grey beak, and warm brown eyes). end id]

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-six —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 4.5k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex!!! SEX. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

You run back inside.

Discreet steps against the wood floor—the bathroom door quietly clicks shut behind you.

You lean your back against it. Eyes closed as your heart pumps between your ears. He left you. But he kissed you back—the sting in your split lip is proof. You move to the mirror. Blown-out pupils and a swollen mouth stares back at you. You touch them with your fingers in disbelief, then trace the faint marks on your jaw where he gripped you.

"You liked it."

A whisper of acceptance. 

You grip the counter, knuckles bone-white, and quickly work the fly of your jeans. One touch to your underwear confirms you are soaked—a thick pulse between your legs that matches the artery in your neck. Furiously, you work your fingers through the slippery folds, a thumb to your clit and two fingers blindly plunging in. The first orgasm in years hits you swiftly. A jolting, cathartic wave. You bite your tongue to stay silent, filling your mouth with a pearl of iron blood as images of a skull mask flash through your mind.

You struggle to breathe. 

In and out.

When the pleasure fades, you wipe your hand on your shirt, wriggle your jeans up, and zip them.

"Twix—" a quiet tap on the door. "Are you in there?"

You nearly jump as if you've been caught. 

You swipe your tongue over your bottom lip as if to erase the evidence.

When you carefully open the door, blue eyes peer at you through the dark.

"Are you okay?" she whispers. "What are you doing up?"

A tight coil in your stomach. You can't look at her. "I just was, um—I couldn't sleep."

"Did you have a bad dream?"

The lie comes easy. "Yeah."

"Me, too. I woke up and realized you weren't beside me."

"I'm... I'm sorry. I'm coming back now." An exhale filters through your nose along with a wave of sheer exhaustion. "We really need to get some sleep."

You settle back in the sleeping bag. You touch your torn lip once more—it's like you can still feel him there—then curl onto your side. Sleep steals you, but it's thin and short-lived, fragmented by restlessness. Before the break of dawn, when it's still dark, Nereida rouses you and Blue with a tap to your shoulders. Ghost must've switched watch with Price at some point because he is inside the cottage, just waking up himself.

You try not look at him, but fail to catch yourself when you roughly roll up the sleeping bag. He looks the same, unchanged. You don’t know why you thought he might look different after what happened. When his eyes lift to meet yours, you quickly tear your gaze away.

Everyone eats a small breakfast—just enough for fuel but not enough to risk sickness from exertion. You shove everything from the night before into your box and readjust your focus.

Ghost and Kyle unload the truck, piling supplies into the raft while Price gives instructions. "If we keep rowing southeast, we'll eventually reach land," he explains. "The wind shifted directions overnight, now moving south. It should help keep the needle steady, as long as it doesn't change course again."

With the raft fully inflated, they carry it to the shoreline. The first light of dawn paints the horizon, a sliver of orange sun dancing over the water. The tide is gentler than last night, its waves foaming quietly over the sand. "Ghost and Kyle will swim first," Price continues, "but we all need to be ready to switch when they get tired."

You glance at the others as you start unlacing your boots, shoving your socks inside. Clothes will hinder your movement and offer no insulation against the water. Nereida stands beside you, undressing and handing you a sports bra.

"Wear this. It's basically a swimsuit," she says.

"Thanks."

It is much less tattered than the simple bra you own. You turn your back and let her cover you as you snap it on. It should feel embarrassing exposing this much skin—stripped down to your underwear and bra—but you imagine it as a bikini. The fact that all of you are just trying to get across alive helps.

But when you turn back around, the thought of survival is staggered by the sight of the last person you want to look at. He is pinching the collar of his plain black tee, lifting it over his head and revealing a bare, scarred torso. The skull mask is gone, but his features are unmistakable. Hard jaw. Strong nose. Thick brows. Your stomach tightens. His face is—

"Good to go, Simon?"

He nods firmly to Price, clad only in black briefs that hug his corded thighs. Bending to undo his combat boots, his eyes meet yours briefly. He left you. Your nails dig into your palms as you look away, following Nereida to the raft. Price has positioned it half in the water, half on the sand, where Blue and Ari are already settled. There are two oars. He hands one to you, keeping the other along with the compass.

Kyle has stripped, as well. 

He dips his fingers in the water, gauging the temperature. 

You wade in the ankle-high tide to get inside. It's lukewarm at the surface, and a bit colder at the soles of your bare feet.

Ghost scoops a handful and splashes it over his face, hair, and chest.

"Fucking kill me," you whisper under your breath. Nereida looks at you.

"You're okay?"

"Huh? Yeah." 

"Let me know if you get tired of rowing."

"Will do."

The sea used to be a place you visited during holidays with your family, diving into the waves with your sister. Now—you stare at the sunrise on the horizon and hope that by the end of day it will materialize into France. Ghost and Kyle push the raft fully into the water until it becomes too deep for them to stand, then you start rowing, with strong strokes that make you breathe hard through your nose. 

"Keep an eye on them for any signs that they need to get out," Price orders Blue, Nereida, and Ari. "Throw out the rope if they get far behind."

You glance back at them as your biceps flex. Your eyes land on a strong, tattooed back. He hates swimming, you know. But his body weaves through the water with strong strokes of his arms that keep him aligned with the back corner of the raft. 

You row for the first half-hour, your arm beginning to tremble wildly. Nereida takes over, rowing for another half-hour before Ghost and Kyle need a break. They cling to the raft's edge, struggling to keep pace. Getting back on the raft alone is impossible—it requires strength from someone aboard to pull you up, or the raft could tip over. Price hoists Kyle inside first, then leaps in. You grab a blanket, wrapping Kyle tightly to stave off his shivering. Minutes later, Kyle then helps Ghost aboard at the same time you swing your legs over the edge. Your turn. 

Salty water envelops you.

It threatens to enter the seam of your mouth.

You grab the back of the raft to situate yourself, an immediate tremble moving through your limbs.

Despite the May warmth, the seawater remains frigid this far out, with land nowhere in sight.

"Listen to your body. Don’t wait—tell us the second you can’t go any longer."

It's Ghost barking at you from the raft. You absorb his words and start swimming, moving each leg and arm in opposition. You crane your neck against the broken water to gulp in regular breaths of air. Already sore from rowing, it is not long before your pace slows down. You take a break, blindly snatching onto the edge, before continuing. Not even an hour later, you are sputtering, numb all over, and feel lightheaded. You call out over the water that you fight to not swallow.

"I can't—I need out!"

"Pull her in!"

You reach for the raft again, but a rolling wave fights against your arm. Your head dips lower, legs flailing to stay afloat. When your face breaks the surface again, the sting of salt sharp in your eyes, the gap between you and the raft has widened. The rope is thrown, but you dip under again, unable to reach it. Your lungs burn, a mouthful of water flooding in.

Panic seizes your muscles. 

A splash—

A body collides with your own, an arm beneath your breasts.

They paddle with the other arm, pulling you to the halted raft.

"Grab her!" Ghost shouts.

A gulp of air widens your lungs as someone else grabs you beneath the arms and lifts you up. A towel is wrapped around your trembling body as you curl up on the raft, conserving every bit of warmth you can, trying to catch your breath. Kyle puts another layer over you, rubbing your arms.

"You need water."

You nod, breath ragged, as the rim of a metal canteen presses to your lips. You take a slow sip, cautious, fearing your stomach might rebel.

For the next hour, you’re left to recover. Weak, but with each sip of water that Blue helps you with, your mind clears. The others rotate shifts and Ari and Blue help row. You all eat a little to replenish energy. Nereida swims for almost as long as you did, until she calls for a break. The sun beats overhead. You can't tell how long it has been, but you overhear Price estimate you can't be more than 10 kilometers out from reaching land.

Ghost and Kyle have held up in the water for far longer than you did, but when Kyle switches with Price, you grow nervous watching even Ghost begin to start losing ground beside the raft. A glimpse of his face against the water reveals paled skin and lips. 

You shrug off the blanket and grab Kyle's arm at the oar. "He needs another break. Help him up. We'll switch."

He hesitates. "You shouldn't go back in yet, Twix."

"I'm fine now, I can—"

"I'll go again." Nereida lets go of the other oar. "Take over here, Twix."

Nereida is in the water before Kyle helps Ghost in. There is a shiver over his shoulders that you try to silence with the blanket you were using, draping it over him and rubbing it into his damp skin furiously. Your eyes catch, but not a word is exchanged before he takes hold of the blanket from you, keeping it on like a cloak. You get him the canteen and then are back to rowing with the bit of strength you regained.

You borrow the compass from Kyle to double-check the needle is still where it needs to be. Southeast. The wind has died down some, and the current is steady. Price needs to rotate with Kyle a few kilometers later. Ghost is on the other oar now. Arms burning, you get a break at the back of the raft. Then the wind begins to change. The waves jostle higher towards the west. Ghost and Price have to push hard to keep the raft moving against the shifting waters.

You keep watch on Nereida and Kyle. Suddenly, her hand slaps for the edge of the raft. Her eyes roll back. 

"Shit, shit, shit."

You reach for her just as she starts vomiting in the water. 

You flex your core to muster the strength to lift her, but her eyes shutter and she becomes dead weight in your arms. 

"Someone help me! She's passed out!"

Price is there in an instant.

"Nereida!"

He pulls her body in without considering the weight limit. The raft threatens to lower and let in water before Ghost quickly jumps out. You help Price wrap her in a blanket as he presses two fingers to her neck, feeling for a pulse. 

"It's slow," he grits.

Her lips are violet. You touch her cheek. It feels icy. "Her body is struggling to keep warm. It could be hypothermia. Take off her wet clothes—"

More watery bile expels from her mouth and he is quick to turn her so she can't choke. 

He continues holding her, rubbing her arms to ignite warmth. He strips off her wet underwear and bra and keeps her tightly swaddled in two blankets. Her lashes flutter, but she fails to fully regain consciousness, muttering slurred speech when he tries to talk to her.

You look up at the sun lowering toward the horizon. 

The unmanned raft has begun to float with the current.

"We have to keep moving," you say to yourself. You grab for the oar. "Ari, get the other one." 

He follows your command. Gritting his teeth to use all his strength.

The two of you row as Price keeps her up in his arms. 

"Come on, duchess. Warm up for me."

Firm kisses to her wet scalp. 

Only when she is able to keep her eyes open and hold the blanket for herself does he take the oar from Ari. "Keep checking her pulse," he orders the boy. "And talking to her."

Nereida is beyond weakened; she can't help anymore. You've been out on the water for at least seven or eight hours now—the sun is beginning to lower when you have to swim a second time. Ghost is in the water with you. When you begin to struggle again, holding onto the raft with jagged breathing, he swims up.

"Do you need to stop?"

"No, I've got it."

"Don't fucking lie—"

"We see land!" Kyle calls from the raft. 

That encourages you. You swallow more air and keep going, pushing harder.

Your entire body turns numb.

When a cold, rocky floor touches your feet, you almost cry.

Cold snot bubbles from your nose.

You hold onto the raft and wade through the water the rest of the way, Ghost wrapping an arm around your waist to keep your wobbly legs upright. The coast materializes as rocky cliffs and sand. You land on it, hands and knees, stomach finally hurling. You retch a few times before Ghost grabs you by the armpits and drags you. 

Price carries a wrapped-up Nereida out of the raft. "We need a fire. The temperature will drop soon."

Kyle heaves the raft all the way onto the sand, Ari helping. "Somewhere the smoke can't be seen."

"We don't have the time to search tonight. She can't walk right now. We all need rest and warmth."

The risk of a fire is forgone. You travel only a bit further, to the grassy cliffside, before collapsing. Ari and Blue collect softball-sized rocks from the beach and create a small pit as the rest of you wrap up in blankets and sleeping bags, drinking water and eating. Price forces Nereida to lift her head from his lap and take small bites of canned beans. You feel starved, but force yourself not to swallow too fast at risk of throwing it back up.

You are still shivering by the time the flames catch. The heat almost makes you moan. Even Ghost sticks his hands in front of it, the skin slowly regaining color. 

"You guys sleep, and we'll keep watch. We can wake you the moment we see something," Ari says once the sun sets. It is a struggle to keep your eyes open. 

Ghost seems ready to argue—

"You need to rest, Dad," Blue says softly. She presses her forehead to his shoulder and adjusts the blanket on him.

"The moment you see something," he says.

She nods. "We will."

B

Blue lays the pistol beside her. She pokes at the fire, trying to keep the crackling embers aglow. All of the adults are asleep. They still need warmth, that much she knows.

On the raft, the helplessness settled deep in her bones—the kind that came with being told to stay still, to do nothing but watch. The others were out there, risking everything, while she remained frozen, powerless. Ghost, the one person she’d always believed could handle anything, even he had struggled. She’d never seen him falter, never seen him wear down. But now, the weight of it begins to sink in—the world is bigger than before. Even Ghost won't be able to fight off everything that lurks in the dark.

"We'll need more firewood," Ari says, breaking her thoughts, his grip tight on the rifle.

She rests the poker by the gun and rises. "I'll get it. You keep watching."

There aren't any trees nearby, at least none she can see in the dark. She remembers the dry driftwood at the bottom of the cliff. Carefully, she skirts down, gathers as much as she can carry, and climbs back up. The fire breathes bigger as she places the wood in the stone circle, flames reaching like outstretched hands in the dark. 

She stares at the fire with her arms circled around her knees. The adults have all the sleeping bags. They need it more. Her jacket protects her from the sea breeze, but her cheeks are starting to grow numb. 

"Where are we again?" she asks.

Ari glances at her from the side. "France."

"France," she repeats, clenching her hands. Far away from her old home, he means. She looks up at the stretch of black water. There's no going back.

Her voice is meek. "What do you think it'll be like? The place we're going to."

Ari breaks a stick in half and adds it to the fire. Embers spit out, one landing on her jeans. "Better than this shit."

A sigh blows a piece of hair from her face. "Really, though."

"I dunno. There will be a lot more people. No Greys. There will be kids our age and maybe a football field. Some good food, not just stuff in cans. We might have to go to school, though."

"I don't think I want to go to a school."

He laughs softly. "Same."

She tries to imagine it, but she can't. The world from before feels too far away, like a dream. The glimpses of memories often blur with her imagination, filling in the blank spaces. She can remember a place her mother used to drop her off in the mornings, where there were other little kids. Toys, too. The blocks she used pull out onto the rug and be forced to share with others. Was that a school? 

A yawn threatens her lips, and she lazily blinks it away. She curls and uncurls her hands, trying to stay awake. Ari notices, lifting a brow. "Hey. We can't sleep."

"I know. I'm just... tired."

"Cold?"

"A little bit."

He unzips his jacket and leans over, draping it over her shoulders so they can share. A deep blush colors her cheeks as she glances back at her sleeping dad, then decides to snuggle into Ari's side. It offers her a small measure of comfort.

“Let’s play a game,” he suggests. "To kill the time."

"Okay. Would you rather get eaten by Greys or turn into one yourself?" she whispers.

"Is this your idea of a game?" He teases, before answering, "I guess get eaten, so at least it'll be over. Being a Grey means I've got to wander around for years like that."

"Unless someone shoots your brain."

"Right."

"Your turn."

"Would you rather kiss a boy or a girl?"

Her nose twists and she nudges his ribs. "Shut up. That's a dumb question."

"Well?"

She looks down at the dried sand on the toe of her boot. "I probably won't ever kiss anyone."

"You will someday."

"I think Ghost would kill them." Her tone leans serious. 

The boy beside her hums and whispers low in her ear. "He just couldn't know, then."

Her blush deepens and that feeling in her stomach rolls, mixing in with the fear she's tried her best to shut out since they left. When she looks up, warm lips give a quick peck to her cheek, and then pull away, the owner of them smirking when he sees her expression. 

"Just focus on keeping watch," she mumbles, but doesn't move even an inch as he continues to hold her close.

T

Sand is in your eyes. 

And your toes.

Every joint creaks when you awaken beside a French beach. The caws of seagulls makes your face twist. You slowly shift up, feeling heavy as if someone is laying on you. But that's just soreness. 

Kyle is the only other person up besides Ari. The boy is sitting by the cliff's edge, and Blue is curled under a jacket, asleep, beside him. When your eyes flick over to Ghost, his eyelids are still slack. In bright morning light, you can make out every scar and every hair on his jaw.

Kyle is warming canned soup over the fire. "Hungry?"

"Fucking starving."

By the time you scoop the first bite in your mouth, the others are waking up. Nereida is still tucked under a heavy blanket, curled against her husband. Bags painted heavily under eyes. Price takes a cigar out over breakfast. Apparently, he brought along two. VegaFina.

"Feels like as good a time as any to indulge," his timbre muses over the clanking of spoons and murmur of the sea. He inhales and offers it Kyle, then over to you. Fuck it. You gingerly accept, needing something to help ignore the ache in your bones and never-ending presence of Ghost.

"You should've enlisted, Twix. Could've done well."

The smoke burns your throat and you cough it out. "Respectfully, there were ten other things I would've rather done than that. Stripping being one of them." A silence follows your words and you look at their faces, handing the cigar back as you mumble, "That was a joke."

It’s isolated here, the kind of place where the world feels safer. The next three days pass in a blur of rest and planning. You also take your bow to kill a hedgehog you discover in a burrow, drying out the meat to keep with you. Getting here was just the first step—there’s still over 800 kilometers between you and the Swiss Alps. The first evening, Price and Ghost set out towards the nearest road. They read the signs, comparing them to the map until they confirm your location: near Sangatte. Along the way, they discover a culvert deeper inland—a better spot to hide the smoke from the fire. You move the camp.

Annoyingly, Ghost has put the mask back on, though it does help you to ignore him. 

"We should follow the road as much as we can, but stick to open spaces where there will be less Greys. We need to conserve ammo," Price mutters over the fire on the third night, studying the map. You steal a peek. The stretch of land you have to cross is intimidating; much bigger than England, and now you're without a truck. 

"Should be fun," you mutter under your breath. 

The plan is to keep moving tomorrow. 

One more night of rest.

Before then, you decide to bathe. You reek of dried sweat and saltwater. Your hair is still clumped from swimming, and your skin is chafed under your bra. Nereida has a small bar of soap and a handmade salve with milk thistle in it.

"It helps irritated skin," she claims, handing it over along with a towel. 

"Thank you, again." You study her, relieved to see that her cheeks are more alive. The hypothermia, luckily, was mild. A more severe or prolonged case would've been untreatable by just a blanket and fire. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes. I owe you my life, truly." She brushes your hair behind your ear in a gesture of gratitude and smiles softly. "John and I will not forget that."

The sea is the last place you want to be and won't help matters, but a kilometer up the road is a freshwater creak where Kyle got more water earlier. You head there under the cloud-streaked sky, afternoon turning to evening, and strip down to just your bra and underwear, leaving your clothes, knife, and bow in a neat pile by a tree. The water in the shallow creek is warm. A satisfied breath leaves your lips as you sink in, all the way to your chin. At first, you just sit there, reveling in the way life hums around. Birds in the trees, minnows through your toes. 

He got death, you got life.

You close your eyes for a moment but quickly reopen them when you see red against the backs of your eyelids. 

You move on to washing. First, scrubbing the soap hard through your scalp, ridding it of sand. Then, your armpits and unshaven legs. 

There is movement in your peripheral. 

You thrash around in the water. 

Ghost is leaned against the tree where your clothes are, watching you.

You keep your body submerged and lower your brows. "Do you get off to sneaking up on people?"

"Just a little."

His tone makes your lips twitch. "The name suits you well, then."

When he simply stares, you get out of the water, crossing your arms over your chest. You push past him, grabbing the towel and immediately covering yourself. You're towel-drying your hair when he grabs your shoulder and turns you around to face him.

"You can't ignore me forever."

A sigh of disbelief pushes through your nose. "As if you don't ignore me? I'm not the one who runs away in the middle of things." You bite the inside of your cheek, hard, and then shake your head. "If you don't want me, then fine. I can live with that. Let's keep pretending it never happened and just focus on keeping ourselves alive—"

His weight shifts as a hand reaches for the back of your wet hair, tilting your gaze up. You flinch away, but he keeps you put. "You'd had a shit day," is the reasoning he gives.

"Are you kidding?" you breathe out, almost choking on a bark of hysterical laughter. "Everyday is a shit fucking day." You roll your eyes. "You stopped just because I killed someone? I've doe it plenty of times before. I also almost drowned and Nereida—"

He stops you, eyes darkened. "What I mean is—if we kept going, I would've fucked you then and there. If I'm going to fuck you, Twix, you are going to be fully in the right mind to make that choice, because once it happens, there is no going back."

Your breath seizes. The blunt words make an unwarranted shiver, warmer than the water was, push through your spine.

His fingers tighten in your hair, continuing. "If I fuck you, it will not be just once. Do you understand?"

The world around you tips on its axis.

Your nostrils flare as you absorb his question: do you understand? No—nothing about this is something you could understand, and you don't think you want to. Your breath quickens, chest rising and falling, and your nipples suddenly feel uncomfortably tight in the wet bra you wear, a gentle breeze making them itch. Your mind goes blank for a moment as he stares down at you expectantly. You feel it now: the palpable want that bears down at you. That heavy something that passes through his eyes. 

Finally, you give an imperceptible nod before letting the towel around you fall at your feet, growling out a breath, and launching into him.

[yueebby]

keep dreaming! – gojo satoru

synopsis. down bad? … it’s gojo satoru!

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, he basically has a wet dream of you, you wear tinted lip balm, your first kiss w him (??), suguru plays devil’s advocate

notes. remember spring days!au but can be read alone. anyways, enjoy!! I am writing this while sick (yikes). also of course this wouldn’t be canon compliant if i had not included satoru and suguru’s dynamic! I tried my best to apply their interactions during the basketball match + while theyre leaving jujutsu tech as much as i can.

“satoru…” you murmur, looking up at him shyly. the two of you find yourselves alone in the classroom. a greedy smile plays on his lips, and you struggle to formulate words as your eyes travel from his cerulean ones to his lips. satoru can barely contain his excitement, the anticipation radiates from him like an electric charge.

“say it, [name]. tell me what you want.” he whispers back at you seductively, his eyes are spellbound onto yours. you whine before grabbing the collar of his uniform and pulling him onto you. your lips are soft, so soft. you were made for him, he’s sure, as your lips mold together. as a matter of fact, your lips are so soft that they feel eerily like his pillow–

"get up! we’re late to our mission!" suguru hits the top of satoru’s head with the spare pillow on his bed. the white haired boy immediately activates his innate technique to block his best friend’s attacks.

it was going to be a long day.

“it’s unlike you to wake up so late.” suguru’s hands pause over the shoji door of the classroom. his concern for gojo was more important than the imminent lecture they were going to receive from yaga for their tardiness. “plus you totally sucked today.”

their mission had taken an unexpected turn for the worse when the pair had found themselves stuck in an incomplete domain. the narrow escape was only possible as a result of suguru’s quick thinking with rainbow dragon.

the bandaid on satoru’s cheek is a silent testament to the mission gone wrong.

“i’ve just been tired.” satoru mumbles quietly, heat rising to his cheeks as the memory of the dream flashes in his mind. he was too deep in thought to counter his friend’s insult.

something was definitely wrong. suguru raises his eyebrows, “and it has nothing to do with the fact that i caught you making out with your pillow?”

“i– what?” the heat has spread from his cheeks to all over his face. he hopes his sunglasses cover the blush that was blossoming on his face. suguru lets out a breath of relief. satoru’s blush meant that the matter at hand was only trivial…

“don’t tell me you were dreaming of [name],” his best friend smiles knowingly. satoru groans. suguru definitely knew, he was just playing with him at this point.

their conversation is cut short when the doors slide open by themselves to reveal a certain brown haired girl with a distasteful look on her face.

“satoru is having wet dreams of [name]?” shoko remarks quietly, making sure her comment is only heard by the two males. “i would act surprised, but it’s not like you’re above it.”

“just who do you think i am?” satoru looks down at his friend.  

“a real pervert.” shoko simply replied before quickly making her way back to the desk next to yours. 

satoru’s eyes follow her and make their way onto you. like a fly making its way into a honey trap, he can’t seem to look anywhere else. too busy burning the image of you absorbed in your textbook, he absorbs every little detail from the way your soft lips slightly part to mouth the words of the book to the way your leg bounces underneath the table. were you using a new lip balm? there was a subtle shade difference from your usual choice. gojo makes a mental note to ask you for the exact brand for… personal reasons.

in his trance, satoru fails to notice yaga’s scolding. he had also failed to notice how suguru had already made his way into a desk.

“satoru since you seem so eager to continue standing, i assume you volunteer to solve this equation.” yaga angrily taps the blackboard with a worn out price of chalk. 

satoru stiffens up, not because of yaga’s wrath, but because your attention has shifted from the textbook to him. you blink up at him, the image dangerously similar to his dream. satoru gulps, eyes quickly flitting to the equation messily written on the board. 

at least math equations don’t make him feel like his heart is beating out of his chest.

it didn’t take a genius to notice how quiet satoru has been today. as if he were in his own world, you notice.

“i fear that i may have been giving satoru too much attention lately,” you mutter to your two other friends, mind running laps trying to recall all of the intimate moments you have spent with the white haired fiend— all of which could be characterized as highly inappropriate. 

“you always do,” suguru lazily rests his chin on the palm of his hand on the desk across from you. after yaga’s lecture, the seats had been rearranged appropriately so that the four of you could enjoy lunch together. “lay some of your love on us too.” he gestures his chopsticks to himself and shoko who were sitting side by side.

one could argue that the subtle smirk playing on suguru’s lips were a lot more dangerous than satoru’s. you’re afraid that suguru has started a game that will only end with your downfall.

the silver tongued boy seemed to catch satoru’s attention with his comment.

“ha– mad that you don’t pull? get your own girl,” satoru speaks up for the first time, glaring at his best friend through half lidded eyes from above his dark glasses. the half eaten melonpan in his hand was long forgotten.

“last i checked, [name] wasn’t your girl,” suguru places his chopsticks back down on his bento box. 

you could’ve sworn you saw an irk mark appear on the side of gojo’s face. 

shoko, who had been watching the scene unfold, sips on her juicebox silently. your eyes anxiously flit between the two boys.

“if you’re still mad about that mission, step outside. it’s not like i’m the one savin’ our asses every time.” satoru grits his teeth. 

the loud sound of suguru’s chair screeching on the wooden floor reverberates in the mostly empty room, “you and your uncouth mouth,” he accuses satoru.

shoko flees the scene. smart girl. 

you were about to follow her, but suguru holds out a hand for you to stop,

“i’m just about done anyway. please, don’t cut your meal early on my account,” he looks down at you and your full bento box. the black haired boy leaves no room for discussion when he turns his back to leave the classroom. 

when the shoji doors are slammed shut by suguru, your head whips to satoru who resumes eating his strawberry melonpan. 

“what was that? you’ve been acting strange, satoru– what happened on that mission?”

“don’ worry ‘bout it,” you barely make out the words coming out of his mouth that is full as he munches on the pink bread. 

you scoff, “you can’t just expect me to ignore the argument you just had with suguru. and that ugly bandaid on your face?” you point at the skin-colored bandage haphazardly placed on his face. upon further inspection, you also notice the growing eyebags on his face. it was truly peculiar to see any blemish on satoru’s perfect face.

he pouts, “are you calling me ugly?” satoru doesn't take pleasure in upsetting you, but the gradual way you leaned closer to him sparked an unexpected thrill within him.

“no, i’m worried about you. you’re being weird, satoru.” he was far from ugly.

as your back faces the window, the outside light casts an otherworldly glow around you.

“well, aren’t you an angel?” he tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, completely enamored.

“you never stop, do you? you’ve been completely out of it all day!” your scrutinizing gaze zeroes in on gojo who was mindlessly nodding with a dazed out smile on his face. “and judging by the way you’re all bandaged up, suguru was probably right! i mean you totally got roughed up. the great gojo satoru, wounded.” 

satoru blushes at your angry face. he’d say something indecent, but he fears that it would only scare you away. if only you knew that the reason he was all messed up was because of you.

“it's partially your fault, y'know.” cerulean eyes blink at you sheepishly before being replaced by a newfound mischievous look.

he doesn’t miss the way your anger shifts into confusion.

"excuse me?"

satoru continues, “if it weren't for you appearing in my dream i wouldn't have been distracted by that incomplete domain.” he points to the bandage cut just below his right eye.

“dreaming of me now, gojo?" you raise an eyebrow. the uncomfortable heat that was starting to rise onto your face at the new revelation that gojo dreams about you is ignored.

satoru looks away, "can you really blame a guy?"

you huff, ignoring his comment, “i think yaga has a first aid kit somewhere in the closet.” you make your way to check out the forgotten door in the back of the classroom. 

the cool sterility of medical supplies contrasts with the charged atmosphere left behind in the classroom.

when you do come back with the kit, your heart races, praying he won't notice the hitch in your breath as your fingers delicately tend to the nearly healed scratch beneath his cheek. satoru's ability to evoke strange emotions within you is undeniable.

silence envelops the classroom, broken only by satoru's deep breaths. you're so close that you can almost feel the warm gusts of air from his breath on your face.

"your body healed remarkably fast. i'm not surprised," you softly observe, your focus on the task at hand. satoru smiles, his eyes fixed on your concentrated features.

"yeah? well, i have an excellent nurse," he remarks, tapping the freshly placed bandaid on his cheek. "though it seems she missed one of my injuries."

you furrow your eyebrows. satoru points to his expectant lips, a playful pout on his face.

"no," you plainly state.

"aw, c'mon. kiss it better? i almost died today," he pleads, his eyes silently begging. you shake your head, unaware that it was your fault he nearly lost his head during the mission.

"you really want a kiss?" you repeat, catching on to his persistent request.

he nods fervently, his excitement palpable. was that even a question

you think he was pretty insane– requesting kisses from a fellow peer.

“satoru..” you murmur, leaning closer to him. his eyes were twinkling with excitement. the two of you were all alone, left with nothing but each other. this scene was all too familiar. 

the sides of his lips quirk up into a smirk while he watches your eyes travel all around his face. satoru has been fantasizing about this moment since the moment he laid eyes on you.

“[name],” he says, his voice softer than ever, a privilege reserved for those closest to him—especially you.

just a few more inches and your lips will meet… just a few…

slap!

satoru blinks in shock while you giggle at his confusion. he attempts to ask what just happened, but his mouth is sealed. his hand rises to find a bandaid now on his lips.

“you’re cuter when you shut up.”

 you seal your words with a soft kiss placed on his bandaged mouth.

...

gojo satoru explodes, his voice muffled by an adhesive barrier.

“m.rrry.. m.. mph..mph!”

extra: 

all conflicts were resolved by evening when you had strategically set up a mario kart tournament.

right after you (indirectly) kissed gojo, you fled the scene, leaving a flustered satoru all hot and bothered. you ended up screaming into your pillow.. the same pillow that satoru was laying on not too long ago.