#makes me sad that this is really how he views himself

[kirbmey]

　 ྀི︶˚̣̣̣⠀⠀ possessive!caleb x reader ⠀⠀˚̣̣̣︶ ྀི

synopsis: where caleb is obsessed with you and wants to keep you for himself (๑>ᴗ<๑)

tw: manipulation, dark romance, time skips, not fully canon, stepcest, use of “gege” and “big brother”, dumbification if u squint, they’re both around 18-20 here, etc.

possessive!caleb who you’ve known since you two were little kids and happens to be older thank you.

possessive!caleb who doesn’t really like seeing you with other kids and spreads nasty rumors about you so he’s the only one by your side.

possessive!caleb who, when you two grow older, gets more obsessive about your companies, telling you who you can and can’t meet.

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“who’s that?” he asks when picking you up from class, hugging you tightly while keeping his gaze on your classmate.

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“just a friend from class, why?” you turn around, viewing how your friend walks away in a hurry. “you know him?”

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“oh, pipsqueak, you don’t know who that is?” he blurs out in a condescending tone, making you feel stupid because of your dedknowledge, pouting at him while he hovers the small of your back with his big palm, walking you to his car while sighing. “he has such a bad reputation, your shouldn’t go around with people like that”

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“is that so? didn’t know that…” you almost whisper to yourself, sad on disappointing your big brother. “I’m sorry, i should’ve known”

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“don’t worry, princess, just stay away from him and it’ll be fine” he brushes off, kissing the top of your head.

possessive!caleb who’s been shapeshifting your brain since childhood to make you trust him blindly, not questioning anything he says and following every command.

possessive!caleb who checks you’re phone every so often, making sure your chats with your fewer female and harmless friends are banal, blocking them if they dare talk about your strange relationship or even question it.

possessive!caleb who can’t go a night without enveloping you in his arms; you can’t either.

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“gege? you up?” you ask while taking small steps inside his bedroom, completely dark besides de moonlight peeking through the curtains.

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“hmm, what’s up, doll?, c’me here” he whispers, lifting the covers so you can sneak beneath them next to him warm and naked chest, hugging the plushie he gave you many years ago against yourself while sniffing slightly, looking up at him.

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“can’t sleep, had a nightmare” a nightmare in which he left you, and you just can’t live without your big brother; you don’t tell him that.

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“oh, princess” he hugs your significantly smaller body against his own, caressing the ends of your hair ever so gently, peppering kisses along your forehead. “i’m here, your gege is here”

you frantically nod, feeling his hand coming up to your cheeks you clean up the long gone tears, cupping your chin next to caress your bottom lip with his thumb, locking your eyes with his purple ones. he closes the distance between you two, kissing your soft lips momentarily; the moon the only witness of the forbidden things you do in the privacy of his room.

a/n: this is my first time ever writing anything, so bare with me ૮(˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)ა

[cantareincminor]

Fandom Eras in an Ongoing Canon

Something I've been thinking about recently, as I've been writing SxF fic for about one year, is the inherent uncertainty of writing for an ongoing canon as the characters evolve gradually with each new arc Endo creates.

For example, Twilight. We can joke about how the man is taking forever to acknowledge he loves his family, and the slow slow slow burn of Twiyor. But after 100+ chapters, he is indeed different from where he started. Chapter 1, he was willing to return a poor little kid to the orphanage like a defective toy when he realized she might not be a prodigy as he originally thought. He also left her at home alone and literally barricaded the door to keep her there.

Later, he acknowledges the trauma she must have faced as an orphan and becomes hyper-sensitive to little signs like how she arranges the sand table in his office (even if he reads her completely wrong).

By the time exams roll around, he avoids criticizing her for the Tonitrus bolt in math and gives her a genuine smile for her achievement in classical language, appreciating how she worked really hard.

With Yor, when he initially met her, he told himself he would figure out a way to trap her in the marriage if needed for the sake of the mission. Luckily he didn't have to do that, but the fact he remains that he was theoretically willing to. Then every ten to twenty chapters or so, Yor does something to surprise him with her kindness and strength and unconventional understanding of the world, and he grows to trust her and care for her wellbeing, to the point of taking a bullet for her and sparing Yuri.

In another 100 chapters, or by the end of the manga, whenever that will be, how much more will Twilight change?

As fan creators, how will our imagination of these characters change by then? Will we remember how we viewed season 1 Twilight? The fics we wrote and the characterizations we gave him? How about season 1 Yor, who had an obsession with knives and tended to imagine murder as the solution to any problem she couldn't solve immediately?

My main frame of reference is the ATLA fandom and how the characterization of Zuko and the flavor of Zutara fics changed over three seasons. Fics written during season 1 sometimes characterized him as a dark brooding villain with the trope of capturing or threatening Katara, mixed with uncomfortable power dynamics. Fics written during season 2 cast him as more vulnerable and uncertain, imagining how he might join Team Avatar, as we started to see him as the immature teenage dork he was all along. By season 3, immature teenage dork took over much of his fanfic persona as he finally joined the good guys in canon and added a fresh dynamic to the team. Fans wrote lots of friendship and redemption fics, diving into how he reconciled with Katara and won her over as a friend before pursuing her romantically.

I haven't participated in the ATLA fandom for a long time, but I imagine that few writers now will write fics based on season 1 Zuko, at least not with the fan-imagined version of him that was popular back then. Too much has changed about his canon character to make that palatable.

So, I wonder what it'll be like years from now when Twilight and Yor and other characters are notably different. What will it be like to look back on fanfics written in 2022-2025? Will we still enjoy them easily, or will we have to suspend disbelief as they'll feel like AUs with OOC characters?

Part of me feels sad about this, but I suppose this is always the risk of writing for an ongoing canon! At least I am not the only one risking so much of my own time on creating these stories out of love for these characters.

[wynnshxfts]

hello!

i found ur page and wanted to ask more about aizawa if u dont mind!! like what does he look like and whats he like and does he have a gf omg what was that

ֺ ۪ 　　𝜗𝜚⠀　come into the water ..

━ aizawa in my dr !!

ֺ ۪ APPEARANCE : He has dark brown eyes with hazel highlights. When his quirk is activated, they glow yellow. You can't see the glow with his goggles on, but I think It's beautiful. His eyelashes are really pretty, It's something that always stood out to me about him. He has a nice facial structure. There are bags under his eyes, I wish he'd let himself rest more. Actually, I'm surprised Mic doesn't have bags under his eyes too with all the work he does. He doesn't care much for his appearance, which is a shocker because he looks so.. anyways. His hair is usually messy, but he does in fact comb it - It's just thick (if that makes sense). His eyes are tired and cold. I'm not sure if anyone else notices, but I love when they soften. His lips are dry, and Mic will leave chap stick on his desk sometimes. He has no clue who's doing it and sees it as an insult. He's always wearing his scarf - and he looks naked without it. One time I blew on his neck while It wasn't on and he freaked the fuck out. He likes wearing black, but he isn't restricted to it. Mic and me try and take him out to shop but he absolutely hates shopping. Cannot blame him because I do too. Mic on the other hand loves it. He also has horrible taste in shoes, sorry bud. He smells comforting. That's the best way I can describe that. When we drifted apart briefly after high school, I had a hoodie of his and I kept it. Very sad day when it stopped smelling like him. He has big hands, at least, bigger than mine.

ֺ ۪ HABITS : He scratches at the scar under his eye a lot. I can never tell if It's actually itchy or a nervous habit. One time I caught him doing a grounding exercise, tapping his fingers against his thumb and counting back and forth. I notice he scratches a lot - his hand, his palm, his neck, his head. He doesn't have long fingernails. Odd detail I wanted to add. When he's annoyed he taps his heel like an angry bunny. If you point it out, he'll stop.

ֺ ۪ ABOUT : He's very sweet, don't let his tough exterior fool you. He's so caring. He doesn't let himself get close to people, so his relationships mostly consist of those who do put in that effort. He has a big heart, he always has. Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like if quirks didn't exist, would he let others in? Anyways, he is single. I don't think he's ever been in a relationship, actually. He tried dating someone once in high school, but I don't think that counts. He's very unsure when it comes to that stuff. He's always to the point and doesn't stand for any nonsense. It's funny, because in high school he wasn't much of the voice of reason. He usually got just as caught up in shenanigans as others. He does small acts to show he cares, like letting people he's comfortable with fall asleep on his shoulder (which isn't as romantic as it seems. it hurts like hell afterwards.) and .. well, It's hard to explain when you don't experience it in the moment. But he has a softer look to his gaze when he does acts of kindness. He also is actually very bad with eye contact on occasion. Like when he's doing something sweet he'll keep his gaze off of me. Unsure if he does this with others.

ֺ ۪ He isn't much different than canon. But then again, I might be forgetting to add stuff because I already view that as apart of him that everyone knows. If you have any more questions, ask away! Also a small note, but him being single is a running joke Midnight always brings up. She also likes joke shipping him with others he's even slightly kind to together. Bi icon, ily Midnight. Oh, he also has some scars on his chest. Do not ask how I know this.

[augustifolia]

Kerosene, part 1

Summary: Emiko, the youngest Todoroki child, falls under poor influence due to her father’s ongoing neglect and emotional abuse.

Warnings: strong language, mentions of abuse and neglect, not a lot actually 🤷

"Touya," Emiko tugged at his shirt, stopping him in his tracks down the hall. Her bright turquoise eyes bore into his as she tilted her head. "Please don't be sad."

Emiko spoke those pleading words like a mantra. The constant tension in the household formed a knot in her throat. It caused a brain fog of mustard gas and stole the air from her lungs. She would say or do anything, all just to make the gnawing ache come to an end.

He forced his scowl in another direction, anywhere out of her sight. Touya pulled her off of him and stumbled into the wall.

"Go play or something, " he huffed. "or go bother Yumi. Anything, I don't care. Just leave me alone." He stormed to his room, fighting the tears that nipped at the corners of his eyes.

The five-year-old girl stood at the end of the hall dumbfounded, with a pained expression, and her arms hung to her side in resignation.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The dead summer sun beat down on the children as the sound of cicadas calls filled the air in the distance.

"Why's Dad always so mean to Touya? All he wants is ta' be a hero too." Her unkempt snow-white hair hid her narrowed eyebrows from view as she sat on the dirt patch poking at a cicada shell with a stick.

Fuyumi watched her with a worried expression. She wanted nothing more than to shield the youngest Todoroki from their harsh reality, to give her just a few years of a normal childhood that she and Natsuo had. But she was smarter than that. Fuyumi had already tried feeding her white lies, as well as telling her things were 'normal' or 'going to be alright', but Emiko saw through it.

In the end, she's still young. Whilst she knows these dark truths exist, how they make her feel, it grants no understanding unto what she can do to fix this cruel helyzet she was born into. What could she do? She had no standing within these walls. She was merely at the bottom of the food chain.

"Dad's just.. like that. Y'know? There's nothing we can do." She dismissed. What else could she say? Emiko always had questions beyond what anyone could answer.

She sighed. She could tell by the way Emiko drove the stick into the dirt that she wasn't pleased with her answer. She picked up the brittle shell and held it out in the palm of her hand to her sister.

"You see how the shell's empty? How the cicada crawled out and flew away a long time ago? The shell's kinda like Dad." She explained with hesitation.

Emiko looked up at her sister. Her thumbs danced with one another on the surface of where her shins met.

"But how?"

"Well.." Fuyumi felt the need to backtrack, but she knew that once something had piqued the child's interest she would chase it with persistence. She lowered her voice and continued with caution. "Dad’s missing something inside of him."

She picks up a pebble and attempts to drop it within the casing without success. "So he's looking for things that'll feel like it gave him something he didn't have."

"But- Dad's the number two hero!" Emiko blurts, her elbows stiffening into a narrow path. Her expression was desperate, as if she were telling her father himself her thoughts. "What more could he want?"

Fuyumi had expected anything but for her to take such a great understanding, causing her to stutter back. She puts her hands up in a silencing manner. "Hey, hey, not so loud, alright?"

She slumps down but nods.

Fuyumi reluctantly continued. "Dad’s wants more. So, he- uhm.." her gaze averted as if looking into an invisible dictionary. "Well.. he had kids. Us. And some of us,"

"Like Touya and Shoto?"

"Like Touya and Shoto," she acknowledges, "he trains to become strong heroes. Ones even stronger than him."

Emiko pouts. "Then why did Dad say Touya couldn't be a hero anymore? He's sad. No.. he's mad. Really mad."

"well.. Touya's quirk hurts him, you know? It's not safe."

She looks back to the dirt. "I guess.."

Fuyumi puts on a smile and pats Emiko's matted, unkempt hair. "There you go. Let's go wash up for dinner, alright?"

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

A thousand footsteps rang through the train station. The monotone voice of a woman named off the departing and approaching transits, while Emiko zones out on the ground below two men sharing a pack of cigarettes.

She'd wanted to take the day off to grieve, begged even. Father had told her that it was almost a decade ago, and she needed to get over it. "Hell week," she called it. Seven consecutive days at the age of four where her world began to crumble.

She steps onto the train, herded like animals bunched together with the rest of those getting off of school or work. She grabbed a handle overhead, burying her face deep in her outstretched arm. Her throat burned more than anything. She woke up early, sat through 8 hours of school, though she skipped her after-school training course. She had an hour-- no, less -- before she got home. All she had to do was hold it in just a little longer. Just a little longer...

The house was empty. Natsuo had completely moved out last week, into an apartment not too far. It was far enough though. Far enough that he no longer had to endure the strain in the household. Fuyumi had convinced him to leave, believe it or not. She was out late grading papers, or maybe it was a cover for staying out longer. But thats not Emiko's sister. She puts everyone over herself, and always has. That's why she thought it'd be best if Natsuo considered moving to a healthier environment to start his life. Yumi didn't mind staying behind in the family home until Shoto and Emiko aged out. "It's more time for me to get my savings in order," she swears. It doesn't make her age any faster, but it sure does help that Emiko is a grade ahead. At least in her mind, it helps.

She fumbles the key until the door opens. Hot tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

Though her status is impressive by word of mouth, it's not to say that she isn't drowning in the assignments she refuses to do and the classes she skips. While she'd originally applied for the general studies course, word had gotten out to her father that she was accepted into U.A. The man swore up and down that she wouldn't amount to anything more than Fuyumi, but when Aizawa mentioned Endeavor having two children participating in U.A, he couldn't admit that she had been neglected up until that point.

Once she gets the door open, she slams it and throws the keys down on the entry table. She forces her fingers through her tied hair and pushes herself into the wall. She was too fragile to argue today. If it weren't for her previous absences, or maybe if it were any other day, she wouldn't have gone. She hadn't noticed the entry light being on, otherwise she would've expected Shoto to turn the corner. He'd already changed into more comfortable clothes, it seems. She faces back towards the door, wiping her cheeks with her sleeves. It didn't take much to drench them. Or maybe she just had a lot pent up.

"You're home early," She mutters, trying to hide how congested she sounded. "What happened to after-school classes?"

"You didn't go." He states, pressing something icy against the back of her arm. She jumps, turning around to an outstretched gallon of ice cream and two spoons. "I thought today was a good day for a break." he offers.

She had been forced to try for the hero course, faced with her fathers raging fury and his harsh training. She couldn't remember the last time she interacted with Shoto before her father paired them to train together. After Touya had passed, Their mother hurt Shoto only a few days later. A "psychotic break," the doctors called it. Nobody talked much after that. The house was eerily quiet for weeks. She sometimes wonders if the two week rule applies to that. That maybe they just fell out of the habit of talking. It's not like there was ever a lot of time to talk. Their father secluded Shoto from the rest of the family a lot growing up. But there was always a silent understanding to never mention Emiko's quirk to their father. A silent promise of protection from her big brother.

"You shouldn't... risk getting in trouble with father for skipping class.." she mumbles as she looks over her shoulder at the tub.

"I don't care what the old man thinks. Mr. Aizawa said it was alright and it won't be counted against me." He argues, a underlying desperate tone laced into the fabric of his words.

Fuyumi and Emiko were never taken seriously. They were born of the cursed sex, Endeavor believed they had no place in the heroes world. That's not where they belonged. Emiko wasn't like the rest anyway. Endeavor already had his golden child, he had no use for her. So when she crawled into bed with Touya claiming she felt sick with a faint blue glow and delicate ice crystals crackling like fine porcelain on the surface of her skin, it became a silent agreement amongst the children to let it fly under the radar.

That night, she sat on her bed scrolling through her grades: geometry, B+; literature, A+; history, B. English, B. Science, A. Hero Course 1-B, D.

"If you can't get that F up to an A, how do I know you're not going to disgrace the family name once you're in the spotlight?" Father's words echo in her head. "You're humiliating me in front of my colleagues. I know you can do better, your quirk is more than exceptional.”

“Damn it…” she hisses. “Not good enough.”

“Just come talk to Mr. Aizawa. Maybe he can help you transfer back into general studies without him knowing.” Shoto suggests, sitting stiffly on the foot of her bed.

“No good. He watches our grade books like a hawk. Not to mention he’s in touch with Mr. Vlad.. that would just make a bunch of other issues when that plan fails. Vlad’ll wonder why I didn’t go to him, and why I’d wanna leave the hero course in the first place. That’d only get Dad in trouble unless I lied..”

“No, you’re right..” He rubbed his chin, pulling the rest of himself onto the bed in a similar cross-legged position as Emiko. “It’s not good enough to risk it.”

“What if…” She paused. Her eyes lost focus of the screen before she attracted Shoto’s gaze. “What if I dropped out altogether?” The words fell out before she considered the consequences. She broke contact, looking back at the computer. “Just a thought, y’know.” She swallowed.

“No.. No, you shouldn’t even be considering that. Transferring back to general studies is better than that. Or- Transferring to 1-A, with me.” He stands to face her fully, but she keeps her eyes down. “Emiko if you’re struggling I can help you. I’m ahead, I can-”

“Shoto quit!” she snaps, meeting his gaze once again. “I don’t want to be in the hero course.”

“Well, what do you want to do?” he retorts.

“I- well, I don’t know yet..” She stumbles over her words, “But I don’t wanna be a hero!”

Shoto keeps his eyes on hers, his features slowly softening from their panicked state. He sits back down, tracing the fabric that stretches across his knees. “Of course, you don’t wanna be a hero..” he mumbles. “I’m doing it to prove a point. I don’t expect you to do the same. But…” He turns to her, closing the laptop. She looks up at him. “You can’t drop out. Whether you pass or fail your main course, or if you tell someone about Dad, just don’t drop out, alright?”

She sits with his words for a moment, before nodding. “Yeah.. okay.”

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

“I miss you, ya’ deadbeat,” she whispers off into the cold air.

“How long’s it been?” She readjusts herself as she leans against a burnt-down wooden post. The exact place where her brother was last alive. “Ten, eleven years?” She speaks again, without response.

“I always thought you were so old. A cool teenager, or whatever. But now I’m sixteen, and you’re still thirteen.”

Another moment of silence passes.

“I’m failing my classes, y’know. My teacher said I need to ‘apply myself’. Hate to bring down the average, but I just-...” she sighs. “I can’t care.”

“...I unenrolled, today.” She admitted. The remains of the planks that used to make a house creaked and groaned, but she was used to it. It was all old and broken, and with the weather changing and the wind blowing it was to be expected.

“I’m not really sure what to do from here. I just feel.. Broken, I guess. And every time this time of year hits.. I can’t help but miss you more than anything.” She sits for another minute or so, before standing.

“I’ll.. be back tomorrow, maybe.”

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Emiko tossed and turned in her bed. She swore she was coming down with a cold. She sat up in her bed. She was excruciatingly hot, but couldn't control how her body viciously shivered.

"Mama" she called out in a tired and sick tone, despite knowing her mother wouldn’t answer. She looked over at her sister in the bed over. It was obvious by the dark spots under her eyes that she had been up far later than anyone else so she could comfort Shoto. He had a rough day training and was littered in bandages.

She shivered, the motion causing a bead of sweat to fall from her face. She hesitantly tip-toed to the last person she knew to help her. She slid the paper door open and snuck to her eldest sibling's bed, wooden panels murmuring under her feet as she stepped.

A small blue glow pulled him from his sleep. She stood silently beside his bed, her arms wrapped around herself as she shook. Small blue flames created an aura around her figure, while intricate sheets of decorated ice patches clung to her skin.

"Touya, I'm sick.." she sniffled.

He rubbed and squinted his eyes, a tired expression the only thing acting as a backdrop.

"Emi?" He confirmed, not completely sure if he was actually awake.

She acted to crawl into bed, but the scent of burnt fabric immediately filled the air. He gasps, jumping to his feet and holding her in his arms. "Hey! Y're gonna start a fire!"

Natsuo shot up at Touya's exclamation, but Touya had already run out of the room.

As he ran down the hallway the small blue flames spread onto the surface of his skin, though it didn't burn. He dropped her into the tub and ran the bath. Touya hastily filled a cup with water and poured it over her head and shoulders. She rubbed her blue eyes and looked up at him.

He took a breath, meeting her gaze. "One hell of a fever, huh?" He laughed nervously, warranting a tired hum from his sister. She wiped the pouring water from her eyes. It had successfully extinguished the flames, but the icy crystals continued to climb her skin. Each crack sounded like porcelain. A gentle hiss when the fire went out.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

“When were you going to tell me that you unenrolled yourself?” Enji paced back and forth as she sat at the kitchen table with her head down. “Where did you learn to forge my signature? Do you know how many strings I had to pull to get you in that class? Just for you to what, act like a delinquent? I knew you should’ve been in 1-A. It was those second-rate hero students in B, wasn’t it? If you were in A, Shoto would’ve kept you in line.” She winced as he berated her.

“Are you even listening to me?” He turned to face her. You need to understand that you’ve never been in more trouble in your life.”

“Does that mean you’re finally deciding to be a parent?”

“…”

“…”

“…call your brother.”

“Because he blocked you?”

“Because you’re staying with him until you get your shit together. I’m re-enrolling you first thing tomorrow. Until then, I don’t want to see you until you find your gratitude. Do you understand?”

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Her sneakers struck the concrete with a steady cadence, blending seamlessly into the city's bustling symphony.

A drop of oil in a cup of water.

Why did everyone keep just a bit extra distance away from her?

Emiko grips the bag that hung over her shoulder, swaying back and forth. She lets out a sharp hiss.

“Look– I can’t get involved in family drama right now.” She recalled Natsuo’s words verbatim. “I have a girlfriend now, and well- It’s too early in the relationship to have to explain why my sister absolutely has to stay over.”

She grips the metal rung, pulling back in disgust and wiping away the wet rusty substance on her pant leg.

“He won’t actually kick you out. You two just need to back away from each other. Hold up in your room for a while, alright? It’ll blow over.”

She tosses her bag onto the roof and throws her legs over the pony wall with a huff.

“Blow over.” She growls. “Yeah, whatever.” She throws herself down and leans over the city, mindlessly trying to zero in on a person or two. A snowflake melts on the surface of her hand. Her eyebrows pinch together before she ignites the small drop of water with a large, quick flame. A burnt smell stung her nose afterward. It.. it wasn’t her fire. No.. it wasn’t fire at all. Smoke. Cigarette smoke?

“This isn’t where you said you’d be, now was it?”

She jolted, but not much more. She looks over her shoulder a bit at the silhouette.

“What, ‘re you one of my dad’s sidekicks or something?”

“As if.” The man scoffs. He tilts his head back, his teeth just barely reflecting the light of the city. “Hey, let's make a game out of it. Guess again.”

Her eyes fall back on the city with a roll and a snarl. “Guess? Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” He pushes himself off the wall and slides down a few feet away from her. He wears a casual black pair of tattered pants, boots, and a hoodie hiding his side profile. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

She sighs and looks back down at the people below. She just wants to be left alone to hash out her feelings, but a distraction would be nice..

“Well? Can I have a hint?” She looks over to him. She can only really see the tip of his nose and his fingers from under the hoodie. Two are outstretched, letting a lone cigarette burn.

“Tch. no. It’d be too easy.” Silence falls between the strangers. “So.. What’s someone like you doing hanging out on rooftops? It’s snowing, y’know. You’ll catch a cold.”

She pulls her knees close to her chest, watching closely as the cigarette briefly disappears behind the shield of his hood.

“You share?” She squeaked out, less confident than she anticipated.

She was immediately met with bright, scornful eyes and dark scars. Jeez, what happened to this guy?

“This?” Ash fell to the wind as he raised his hand. “What, aren’t you like twelve? ‘Do I share’, not with a kid.”

Her shoulders met her ears. More scolding. Nice. “I dunno. I figured you were… y’know.” She trails off.

“A criminal?” he grins, leaning in a bit as he presses the palm of his hand against the cold brick below.

She pauses a moment, sheepishly shrugging and looking back down. “Something like that.”

“So that means I deal Drugs n’ Crap ™ out to kids, huh? This isn't a school PSA. These things are expensive, y’know.”

“So..”

“So? No. Unless you’re payin’ f-” He’s interrupted by the sound of crinkling as she digs through her bag, then proceeds to hand him multiple wadded-up ¥5,000 bills. He stares down with awestruck eyes, before recomposing himself.

“Of course. Rich brats..” he scoffs.

“So? I can pay, I-”

He grabs the wad of cash, pieces and corners poking through the gaps of his fingers. He flips through the bills with wide eyes until his brows furrow. He looks back to her, shoving the bills in his pocket and standing. Her face drains pale.

“Wait, wait, what are you doing?” She steadies herself upright.

“I’m doing you a favor.” He readjusts his hoodie and stuffs both his hands in his pockets, checking over his shoulder. “Consider it a savings account.”

She throws herself into him, clawing at his wrist and the fabric of his hoodie.

“You can’t do that man, that’s all I’ve got!”

“Hey, hey! You said it yourself, you have a death wish or something? I’m the bad guy. Don’t give your money to strangers.” He pushes her down onto the roof off the pony wall. “Especially not guys like me.”

She glares up at him, catching her breath through gritted teeth. With slow, confident steps he makes his way to the ladder.

“Smoking’s bad for you anyway. Smarten up, yeah?”

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

She lets out a long, exaggerated sigh as she mindlessly rolls a pencil around her new desk. Her head rests downcast as students gradually enter the classroom.

Shoto hasn’t said a word to her since she got back. Maybe he just didn’t know what to say. Or maybe it was to avoid a fight. To keep the peace, or what little’s left of it.

Emiko sat in a brand new table in the far back corner. Talk had gone around the grownups about a dunce seat at the front of the class besides the homeroom teacher, but it was a short-lived idea. The man was outraged by such a thought, claiming he didn’t get paid to babysit troubled youth. Mr. Aizawa was against the idea of an extra student anyway. She had to be on her best behavior, the best in the class if she wanted to stay. She didn’t want to, but Enji did. The threat of being out of the house for good hangs over her head. “If you can’t handle staying in school,” she recounted his words. “You’ll have to learn how to live out in the world on your own.”

As the number of people in the room increases, chatter breaks out about the new student. How the amount will be uneven, or what a new student is doing joining in the middle of the year, or what to expect.

She groans, rolling the pencil more vigorously until it flies off onto the floor. She sighs, pressing her forehead to the icy surface of her desk.

Her seat was off center. Just kind of thrown in the nearest clearing. Her nearest desk neighbor being a rather tall girl with a tight black ponytail. Emiko pulled herself back up when the girl offered the fallen pencil and a formal smile.

“Momo Yaoyorozu.” She introduces.

She takes the pencil. “Thanks.” the mumbles coldly.

Emiko looks up at her with a rather tired expression, not returning her warmth. “Emiko. Emiko uhm.. Todoroki. You can just call me Emi, though.”

Shoto’s shoulders stiffen. He’s been only a few feet away from her for the past half hour and hasn’t said a word. I mean, he hasn’t seen her in days—

She’s pulled from her thought, her eyes fall back on the girl standing beside her desk with an awestruck expression.

“You’re from the Todoroki family? And you’re seated so close to you’re brother, how lucky!”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“It makes sense now, why you’re here. Why so late getting in? I can help you catch up from the past month if you’d-”

“No.” Emiko interrupts. “ I mean, no thank you. I’ll be fine.” She corrects herself.

“O-oh. well, alright. But- if you change you’re mind later on the offer’s still open.” She clasps her hands together, looking to the side before sitting down at her desk.

A group of people fly through the door right before the bell rings, taking their seats as the teacher prepares himself at the front of the class.

She liked him. So far, at least. He only spoke to her when necessary. There wasn’t a class introduction either. He had said something about pros having to make allies on their own time, and if she wanted to survive his class it would be in her best interest to put in her all. Maybe she shouldn't have been so cold with Youyorozu. She’s at the top of the class, she could have been useful.

Oh well. This class was the least of her worries. She just had to pass, not excel. She could if she wanted to of course. If she survived her fathers harsh grading growing up while she was homeschooled, she’d be just fine here. Hell, she was in the top five in general studies, and she didn’t even try.

“Todoroki.” Aizawa had been calling on her at least four times. She snapped out of her thoughts, looking up at him pinching the bridge of his nose. “Did you pick up a textbook? You have a month to catch up on, I suggest you have it readily at hand.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright, and your paper?’

“Huh?”

“You need to pick up whatever papers I have set out at the beginning of class.”

“Oh. Right.”

(Leaving out the awkward walk of shame up to the front of the class bc its too brutal 😔)

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

She slings her bag over her shoulder, which she swears tripled in weight since the class began. A chill ran down her spine as she walked down the crowded hall. The thought of going home was less than ideal. She was welcome back already. But for what, passive aggressive comments and more scolding?

Maybe she’d visit mom.

No, she’d just drag unnecessary stress to her mother.

Stay and knock out some chapters in this damn textbook?

She readjusts the bag into a slightly more comfortable position. Pass.

She readjusts the bag into a slightly more comfortable position. Pass.

A cafe? Get some coffee and a pastry—oh, right, no cash. Thanks for that, random mugger. Real classy.

Her steps slowed. She could try and get her money back. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen? Some guy trying to mug her again? She’d like to see him try. She had her quirk… kind of. Okay, maybe she hadn’t practiced much, but even a little fire could scare someone off, right? People usually weren’t stupid enough to mess with a Todoroki. Or so she hoped

Ahead, she sees the distinct color of her brothers hair. She pushes through people, throwing in a few ‘excuse me’s and ‘sorry’ before grabbing his shoulder.

“Shoto! Hey,”

“Oh, uhm.. Hey.”

“Hey, so you actually haven’t talked to me all day, how’ve you been?”

“I’m well. But.. maybe lay low at home.”

“Tch. I’m not going home. Not right now, anyways. Hey, you wanna help me out with something? I could use some backup.”

“Uhm, actually I should get going.. I’m not going home either. I’m studying with some friends. If… you’re not busy, i think it’d be a good idea for you to come along. We could help you catch up.”

“Nah. but thanks though. Maybe next time.”

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Cars honked and sped by from her right as she walked down the sidewalk. It was just a bit earlier than it was the other night, but it couldn’t hurt to be early. Who knows how long he was up their before she arrived, or if he visits that roof often. What if it was just a one time occurrence? Just, a random crossing of paths maybe.

She hoisted herself up the ladder. The bag’s a no-go, it weighs as much as she does. She drops it on the first step with a heavy thud, before proceeding the rest of the way up.

She threw herself over the pony wall and took a few steps in, looking around. She didn’t smell burning cigarettes, but the night was still young.

Until it wasn't. Hours passed, just her alone on the edge of a rooftop. She played with a controlled cobalt flame at the tip of her thumb, before standing up with a huff. Three hours passed since the time they originally met. During that time she eventually brought her bag up and went through a few pages. The intro, and half of chapter two. Something about hero ethics.. Maybe she shouldn't have skimmed ahead a few extra pages. Maybe she just didn’t understand it yet. But it didn’t sit right with her. She couldn’t understand its values, much less relate to them.

She packed up her stuff and threw her bag off the roof, before climbing down after it.

Where did that— did someone spill their soda down here since she’s been up there? Eugh!

She walks down the street, bitter and defeated with a sopping, sticky bag. Great.

Her shiny new penny loafers were scuffed and scraped up all to hell on her first day back at school. Oh well. Old high-tops it is.

Of course, her blazer’s stained, too. Guess that’s why U.A sells sweater vests. Maybe not directly the reason, but it’ll work for school tomorrow.

She shoves the blazer deep into her bag. Both will be cleaned, eventually.

She sighs walking down the street. It’s cold and humid, and the guy wasn’t there. She loosens her tie as she waits at the train station.

The train hisses as it comes to a stop. She enters, grabbing a pole with the least people hanging off.

A hand nudges hers as it reaches for the bar.

Those same markings. Huh..

Really, she wants to be surprised, but she’s just not feeling it. Without looking up, she murmurs at him tiredly.

“I want my money.”

“I already told you, I’m saving it. Saving you from throwing around that much cash. Ever heard of ‘thank you’?”

“Tch, tough luck. I’m not thanking you for stealing.”

“Fine, don’t.” He rolls his eyes, extending away from the bar a bit to take note of the other passengers before leaning back in. “You don’t really believe in being a pro, right?”

Her eyes dart up to him, making him retract. He looks the other direction.

“Just saying. The face you were making while you were reading, it was—”

“You were watching me?” she furrows her brows, finally meeting his gaze.

“Shh, y’re gonna draw too much attention.”

She huffs and looks away.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I saw you. You didn’t like what you saw, did you?”

“..I dunno. I didn’t read it in the right order. I was just confused. If you saw me why didn’t you say something? You did last time. How long were you there?”

“Long enough to witness you pick your nose.”

“oh.”

“So? What had you so confused? Hero work should be clear as day, right? If it were so noble or good or whatever.”

“What are you talking about? You don’t…”

“Don’t what? Question the system? Hate heroes?” He leans in slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Come on, throw me a bone here.”

“...what’s.. The point? In following me, I mean.”

“Bold of you to assume I give a shit enough to follow you. Right place, right time, nothing more.”

She pauses. “So..”

“So?”

“So how do we keep meeting? It doesn’t fell as random as you say it is.”

“Pfft.” Everyone sways forward as the train comes to a stop. “It’s not my problem that you don’t get it yet.”

She looks back in his previous direction, but he’d already disappeared. He threw up a lazy wave before getting lost in the ocean of people.

[whosoldherout]

911 HIATUS REWATCH 6x11 - IN ANOTHER LIFE

[zolo-san]

I know I just rambled in the tag, but if you took the time to read all that, might I direct you to this post & my ramblings there as well~

Something about Zoro being one of the most misunderstood and mischaracterized characters in One Piece is funny (not haha funny, funny sad) to me because?? That’s literally how his introduction starts?? With people misunderstanding him and thinking he’s some big, monstrous demon who kills with cause and cannot be trusted or tamed.

Meanwhile the actual Zoro is a driven guy who is often both literally and figuratively directionless in life and found his goals in life through good people (first Kuina and then Luffy). He's tied up in the Marine base not due to those actual crimes he commuted (well not inherently anyway) but because he ‘disrespected’ a Captain's son and stood up for a little girl. He accepts the challenge they present to him and because Zoro himself is a guy that puts his money where his mouth is he assumes the Marines will uphold their end of the deal and let him go (note the actual shock when Koby tells him the truth)

He joins Luffy's crew but also outright says he’s not gonna let his goal take second place to Luffy or anyone else's for that matter, he bears the weight of two people's dreams, his heart isn’t going to be swayed by some pirate.

Speaking of Kuina, her impact and influence on Zoro's life isn’t talked about enough for my liking. She was Zoro's first friend, his first rival, his first goal. He looked up to her so much and his reaction to her passing cracks my heart in half every time because you can seem him just..go numb. Kuina, dead? Kuina, the strongest person he knows, gone? Kuina, who swore to him just yesterday they’d race to the top of the world together, doesn’t exist anymore. His blank face only cracking within the privacy of his sensei before he begs. He begs on his knees, tears streaming down his face please please please let me take Kuina's sword with me. Let me take our dream to a high neither of us could imagine. I won’t let her name die here.

On top of gaining the Wado Ichimonji that day Zoro also gained…fear. Not of death, well at the very least not his own, he gained his fear of not being enough. Kuina kicked his ass every way a person could and still died, what could someone like him do? So he trains…and trains…and trains some more. Overly, obsessively, constantly telling himself he’s not enough, he’s weak, he can’t protect anyone like this and everyone's death would be on him.

As for Zoro being cold and stoic that’s just…not completely true? He’s not stone, he can be excited or sad or angry just as much as most characters he just sucks at showing it canonically (Kuina thinks he hates her before their final fight after all). Sure he’s not as forthcoming about it as some of the other Strawhats but Zoro's more of an action guy anyway, he'll show his love with his protection and unwavering faith.

In conclusion, Zoro is a ridiculously stubborn, incredibly loyal, mildly emotionally constipated, do what you say/say what you mean kinda guy.

(Also that whole ‘Zoro would kill the whole crew if Luffy asked him to’ thing? Top ten stupidest things I’ve ever heard from the fandom and that’s saying a lot. He’s loyal not brainless and heartless guys if Luffy asked him to do that, he would never but I digress, Zoro would square the fuck up with him so fast. DPMO.)

[krysmcscience]

At long last: either an alternate explanation for or continuation of my prior comic regarding how Bill was ABSOLUTELY naked in Ford's karaoke night drawing. (Because errors in art do not exist. Artists do not make mistakes. So if you see any in this comic, No You Do Not.)

I am so normal about these old dorks.

I'm not really clear on exactly when Bill started throwing his desperation book at Ford just like a needy ex do, but I find it extremely funny to imagine it happening literally the day of or after the makeshift funeral. Bill just gets this weird sense of 'Ford is taking steps to move on' and CANNOT FUCKING ABIDE.

I hope you enjoy all the goofy things I added to each page of Bill's sad spieling. (Everything SHOULD be readable so long as you view the full size, but I have added basically this whole little fanfic in the image descriptions, LMAO, which lays out all the little written notes and such.) Also don't ask how Bill managed to sneak that vampire pen in there. I have no idea, and honestly? I don't wanna know.

Oh, and a little bonus comic:

Of course Bill would take it as flirting. Because between the two of them, Bill is the bigger masochist By Far. :)

Also I have continued applying The Good Place logic to any of Bill's attempts to swear. Case in point, one last bonus image, this time with a motivational line from my slapdash Theraprism OC, EV-01:

Yes, its name is just 'love' backwards. No, I will not be taking any feedback on this. Yes, EV-01 was only ever assigned to Bill's case due to the Theraprism being desperate to make some progress in rehabilitating him. No, it did not work anywhere close to staff's expectations - Bill didn't even appreciate EV-01's matching fondness for bowties! (He claimed the fondness to be "cultural appropriation" and insisted he'd been traumatized by it.)

Anyway, if you like my stuff, reblogs are very much appreciated, and if you really really like it, perhaps consider my commissions or yeeting a teeny tiny tip my way? I am trying to recoup over 500 dollars in vet bills, ahaha... 🙃

In other news, I loved all the fun tags people added to the prior naked-karaoke comic (such as 'the hat and bow-tie stay ON during sex' and the classic '[insert keysmash here]', as well as the many amused/bewildered remarks about how I either made the bricks a piece of clothing or just straight up peeled Bill's skin off). However, I think my favorite thing by far was the several people losing their shit over the fact that I gave Bill toes. Like, excuse me? The magical talking triangle can have fingers but not toes??? Since when was that a rule????? 🤣 (Also the one person who reblogged with the cropped panel where Bill's fishnets pants are falling off to ask why Bill peed himself. Dude, I want to examine your brain...?)

Okie-dokie, I'm sick of looking at all of this stuff now and I'm off to go to work, after which I will either scribble some more goofy "Billford" comics or perhaps draw my lame human!Bill in Situations, idk yet. Maybe I'll even finally draw more than just a single other person's human!Bill...? Who knows, but I sure hope I can mix it up a little and not turn whatever I draw into a month-long fukken project. >:\

[nochepsicodelica]

"Baby, what's wrong?" Toji leans forward on the bar counter to try and get a look at your face.

You hear Toji's voice, but you feel heavy, like you're being weighed down and you can't move. Your elbow is on the counter, allowing you to rest your chin in your palm. Your head is turned to the side and you're facing away from him. Your leg is bouncing like crazy against the metal bars of the stool you sit on and your heart is racing, your breathing coming out a little shaky as it exits through your nose.

"Hey." Toji's hand goes to your knee, moving along with every bounce of your leg. He doesn't attempt to still you, but he's hoping the warmth will manage to soothe you a little. "It's okay, ma. Listen to me." When you don't move, he stands from his seat and makes his way over to your other side to stand in front of you. "Focus on me." His hands come up to shield your eyes from all the light around you, blocking your peripheral vision so that your main view is him. He lays his fingers over your ears to somewhat muffle the sounds of the lively bar area.

You're overstimulated, overwhelmed by all the lights, and music, and everybody around you. You were so excited to spend some time out with Toji. You've been here with him before, and you remembered you had a really good time— definitely one of your favorite dates with him— so you expected this time to be just as fun. Everything was going well until you made it to the bar, where you're sitting, now, trying to calm down. Everywhere you turned, you made eye contact with someone, there was a group of people that was being way too loud, and the volume of the music being played was inconsistent— sometimes blaring, sometimes at a comfortable volume, and sometimes the music was almost inaudible. You felt like your head was spinning. With all of these things combined, you could hardly focus on Toji who was trying to get your attention, because the bartender was taking your drink orders. You asked him to repeat himself three times, and each time you couldn't process what he was saying. He ended up just getting you your usual.

The sensory overload only worsened as time went by. Whenever Toji said anything to you, you would just hum and nod your head, not really taking in his words. You ended up reaching rock bottom and couldn't respond to him at all. You weren't feeling well, and he eventually picked up on it, which led to this moment, where he's standing in front of you, helping you deescalate this awful feeling.

You blink slowly at Toji, holding his attentive gaze. He picks up your limp hand from where it rests on your thigh and brings it up to his face, positioning it so that you're cupping his jaw and your thumb is pressed against the scar on his lips.

Toji used to really hate his scar. Too many bad memories are linked to it. The blemish reminded him of how unwanted he was, growing up. When he met you, he was really insecure about it, to the point where his heart would sink to his stomach, when he caught you glancing at it for even the quickest second. He found out later on that his scar brings you comfort. Whenever you're stressed about something and Toji does a mental check in, the first thing you do is kiss his scar, before communicating what has you so stressed. Whenever you're sad, Toji pulls you onto his lap and lets you talk out all your feelings. As if by natural instinct, your thumb runs along the strike on his lips, before you wrap your arms around him and melt into his comforting embrace. Even at random times, you'll walk up to him and lay a barrage of kisses on his scar, before walking off to continue what you were doing, like it's a form of recharging, but also your motivation to get things done.

Though the method in which Toji got his scar was vehemently horrid, a lot of the negative memories are overridden by more positive ones of it bringing you tranquility. Before, there was absolutely nothing good about it. It used to piss him off, because it just served as a malignant reminder of his past, and it just sat there on his grim face—useless. Now that he knows that the sight and the feeling of it puts your mind at ease and that it grounds you and keeps you with him, his hatred towards the permanence of the tattered skin isn't as vile.

"Look, mama. You feel that?" He manually drags your thumb up and down his scar, in an attempt to bring you back. Your eyebrows furrow, then relax at the feeling of the familiar texture beneath the pad of your thumb. "Yeah, i'm here. It's okay, doll." When you manage to move your thumb on your own, he lets go of your hand and puts his hand back beside your face to shield you, again. He can feel people watching, but he really doesn't care what it looks like to them. It's none of their business, anyway.

"You wanna get out of here? We can go for a drive or a walk. Anything you want." He sees you press your lips together like you want to say something, but then you stop and just keep looking at him with that same look of exhaustion from your overwhelming amount of awareness. "Alright, let's get out of here, first." He pulls out his wallet and a few bills, leaving them beneath the glass of your unfinished drink, before helping you off the stool. "It's okay, doll. Don't even worry about it. Just hold onto me." You wrap an arm around him and he keeps his hand on your shoulder, squeezing occasionally to remind you that he's looking out for you, as he guides you to the exit.

You both decide to lean against the trunk of the car for a few minutes to get some fresh air. The parking lot is practically empty, save for three other cars scattered in different areas. You've managed to calm down a little more, but you still haven't said anything. It's a mixture of guilt and embarrassment for ending what was supposed to be a nice night out with your lover.

Your shame is visible. You can't even look up from your fidgeting hands. Toji takes one of them in both of his, aiming to start a conversation with you.

"Why are you stressing out on me, my sweet girl?" Your palm rests on top of Toji's, while the thumb of his free hand brushes your knuckles. He tilts his head to look at you as you stare at the ground for a few more seconds.

"I don't know what happened," you say, finally turning to look at him. "I was fine when we were on our way here, remember?" Toji nods, clearly remembering how excited you were when you saw the lit up, neon lettering. "Then, we got inside, and I felt weird—jittery, like when you have caffeine and don't put the energy to use. I felt like people were watching my every move, and my chest felt tight."

Toji hums, taking in the heaviness of your words and considers your feelings. "And why is it that you left me to figure out that you felt like you were dying, instead of telling me from the start?" His words aren't sharp, rather, doused with concern.

"That would have made it our shortest date night ever. We walk in, I say 'baby, I feel uncomfortable with how loud everything is', we walk out." Your brows raise, as if your explanation showcases the better option more clearly—what you chose to do, instead.

"That is one thousand times better than what you went through a few minutes ago." Toji can see your lips twitching, like you're aching to defend your reason for withholding your discomfort from him, but he won't have it. He's not going to waste time arguing over something he will always be right about. Your comfort, your health, your wellbeing— it's prioritized.

"I don't like seeing you that way." He gently pulls you so that you're standing right in front of him. His gorgeous, green eyes effortlessly hold you hostage and his hands settle on your lower back, further adding on to the feeling of being caught up in him. "You were frozen and you went silent— you were just out of it."

Your expression shows the guilt you've been stomaching since you walked out of the bar, and the feeling only intensifies at his evident concern for you.

"Fuck." He sighs, pulling you into a tight hug. "Don't look at me like that, ma. You know I care." He turns his head and takes in the ambrosial scent of your perfume, sourcing it from the side of your neck, where a few of his kisses land. "I don't want you to hide how you're feeling from me like that ever again. You understand?"

You nod against him. "Sorry."

"I'm not mad at you. I don't want you to apologize. Just tell me you understand," Toji clarifies.

"I understand," you confirm, quiet and disheartened, like you've just been scolded.

"Good. Now, tell me you love me." He loosens his hold and pulls you back, still maintaining a fairly close proximity with you. His hands take the ends of your coat and ride up until they reach the first button and hole of it. He merges them and goes up, feeling for the next ones, but when he reaches them, he pauses. Your attention is on what he's doing rather than his request.

"What?" You ask, looking at him.

"I'll wait," he responds, smiling softly at the bashfulness that shines through your expression.

"You're putting me on the spot," you say, giggling.

"You say it all the time. Why is it weird now?"

It's that smirk on his face and the knowing look in his eyes, that has your heart racing. It's the fact that he rescued you from something he couldn't feel—an internal hurricane. It's not hard to say the words, but you're damn nervous, this time.

"I love you, Toji," you, wholeheartedly, declare.

"I wasn't ready. Go again," he teases, because he lives for the way your eyes light up before you laugh.

"I love you, baby," you repeat, a gentle smile curled on your lips, remnants of your amusement towards his playfulness.

Toji sighs, mesmerized by the entirety of you. "You're so pretty, ma," he says, feeding the undying glow of your ethereal smile, in hopes that it doesn't dim again anytime soon. He continues buttoning up your coat, not breaking eye contact with you for even a second. When the last button is done, he shoves his hands into your pockets and pulls you in for a deep kiss. "I love you," he murmurs, against your lips, proceeding with more kisses.

Your hands come up to cup his cheeks, the warmth of his skin spreading through your palms with every ongoing kiss you share. Your hand repositions, your fingers resting beneath his jaw, allowing your thumb to slide down and get as close as you can to his scar, without interfering with the movement of his lips. It rests there until you finally separate from each other. You lean forward once more and press a lasting, final kiss to the strike.

"Feeling better?" Toji asks, a smug grin on his face.

"Much better," you respond. "Can we go somewhere else? Anywhere else. I don't think I can go back in there. It'll be awkward with the bartender having seen everything and just... fuck that. I can't go in there, again."

"Let's go for a drive," Toji says. He pulls his hands out of your now heated pockets, and takes his weight off the trunk, standing up straight and towering over you. "If you see anything interesting, we can stop and check it out."

"Let's get lost," you suggest, grinning mischievously.

Toji's eyebrows pinch in confusion. "Get lost? What does that mean?" He asks.

"It means, let's drive aimlessly and just... get lost," you repeat, enthusiastically.

He loves how excited you are, despite how insane you sound, which is why he doesn't have the heart to shut down your crazy idea.

"You know, it's almost impossible for me to get lost, 'cause of my jobs, doll. I'm sent everywhere, so anywhere we go, I know how to get us back home."

"I can't say the same, so it would be an adventure." You smile, internally giddy at the thought of having a guide through the dark unknown.

"It would be me kidnapping you." His hands go to your cheeks, forcing you to keep your eyes on him, so he can observe you to make sure you are in your right mind.

You laugh at the intensity of his gaze. "Not if I'm willingly going with you. Please? If you hate traveling with me, we'll never do it again. I promise."

Toji scoffs. "That's a little extreme, don't you think?"

You give him a charming smile, one you normally use to heavily influence his judgement.

"Fucking-" He groans, half frustrated, half smitten at the stunning sight before him. You don't even have the time to process the swiftness of him leaning down to press a hard kiss onto your lips. "God, you always do that. You always do that. You know what it does to me and you just... fuck." His breath stutters, and again, he's tasting the sweetness of your lips. His hands are still cupping your face, keeping you locked in with him. Toji doesn't stop until you're both breathing heavily through your noses and panting when he finally pulls away.

"Let's get lost," he says, in your words verbatim. Verdant orbs stare into your soul, in search of the smallest trace of uncertainty, but all he is able to find is wonder and adoration, staring right back at him. "Let's go away, doll."

[tinythebunni]

perv!stebro!Rafe Cameron <3

you had to know what you were doing. there was no way you were this fucking dense that you couldn’t see what you were doing to Rafe. walking around in those tiny fucking skirts and thinner than a piece of paper crop tops and baby tees. and you never wore a bra. Rafe was 90% sure you were sent up here by the devil herself to punish him for something. but it really was just the fact his dad happened to wanna fuck your mom more than just as a one night stand.

you always seemed to be tanning outside right when he was about to leave for the country club. as if you were trying to tempt him into staying and fucking you into his mattress and bruising your throat. you wore low cut tops almost everyday and it made him fantasize about leaving hickies there. how you’d whimper and lift your hips to try and get some kind of friction. how you’d try and make him touch you but he wanted to spend his time making you wait. making you feel as insufferable as you acted.

the first thing that made him lose his cool was when you came downstairs while Topper and Kelce were in the living room. now sure Rafe was still getting used to you being in the house with him since the wedding. but you had come downstairs in the tinies bikini top known to man. with a barely there skirt that didn’t even cover the swell of your ass. he was sure his eyes were bugging out of his head.

“nah. who the fuck do you think is letting you out the house like that?” you tried changing his mind, jus bc you really wanted to go to the pier and shop! but he wouldn’t budge.

“you look like a whore, go change. ‘not dealing with bullshit while i’m sober.” you cried all the way up to your bedroom and slammed your door. while Rafe only sat back down in his chair, manspreading and rubbing his jaw.

“jeez man you were kind of harsh” Kelce tried to defend you but he didn’t get far.

“nah y’don’t know the shit i gotta deal with here. fucking teasing me all the time.”

the second time he almost lost his cool was when you decided you were going to go to one of Barry’s parties, which Rafe was not at all gonna let fucking happen.

Barry always threw crazy ragers that basically turned into fucking or orgies all night. you’d never been to one of his parties but Rafe knew some bitch ass little boy probably invited you, trying to get into your panties.

once again you tried your hardest to get him to let you go but he didn’t let up. “not letting you go to some party just so you can get roofied and traumatized for the rest of your life. ‘r too sweet for all of that and i don’t feel like having to kill anyone today.”

you stomped your foot and pouted up at him. “this is so not fair! you’re not even my daddy!”

hearing that name come out of your mouth had Rafe groaning and looking up at the ceiling for some kind of strength to grasp onto, so he didn’t choke you or fuck you against this door. he gave you one last look and reached behind you to lock the door. he could hear your breath hitch as his head was right by yours, locking his eyes onto yours as you heard the click of the lock.

“stay in the house. ‘m not fucking with you bambi.” he chastised, walking back to the couch without even glancing your way. you looked at him a little longer, watch as he palmed himself through his jeans and slid back in the cushions. you let out a sad sound and slouched back upstairs. crying all your pretty heart out into your heart shaped pillow.

the last time, Rafe couldn’t take it anymore. you finally started to notice his attraction to you. and boy were you happy. you’d been wanting to fuck him for months now! fingering yourself and rubbing your clit raw to the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hands on you. you were basically in heaven!

Rafe didn’t know what changed but all of a sudden your teasing got more evident. you’d drop the remote and bend over to pick it up, giving him a view of the plump lips you had hidden behind cotton underwear. sometimes you’d leave the bathroom door open so he could see you shower behind the steamy glass.

in the present day you asked him to bake cupcakes with you. something innocent and sweet, what could it hurt? but when you asked him to try it, that’s when it all went downhill. Rafe dipped his finger in the batter and brought it to his lips, sucking the flavor off and deciding if it was done.

“taste perfect bunny, now you try it.” and you did. you looked up at him, taking two steps forward, and grabbed his right wrist. He looked at you with a confused glint in his eyes, as you dipped his finger in the batter and wrapped your lips around it. tenderly kitten licking the tip of it and suckling as you let it pop from between your lips.

“sweet and creamy, just perfect!” you smiled, like a cheshire cat. he only stared at you, pupils blown and cheeks flushed. you began to get a little bit nervous. you wanted to turn around and rgo to your room to sleep for all eternity!

as you frowned and turned to walk away, he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you to him, and as you skidded to a stop he wrapped his hands around your waist and flipped you over his shoulder. he walked away from the oven preheating oven, turning it off of course, and up to his room.

“Rafe what are you doing! come on put me down!” you yelled at him. he only slapped your ass, effectively shutting you up. you felt shame, arousal, and nervousness creep into your gut as you could only watch his backside walk up the stairs and away from the kitchen.

you saw him walk into a room and when he turned around to lock the door, you saw he was in his room. you heard the lock click and felt him start to walk towards the bed, finally putting you down.

“do you know how much self control i’ve wasted trying not to fuck you against every surface of the house, just for you to kiss me in the goddamn kitchen?” he asked pacing with an angry look on his face. you shook your head with your lips parted slightly and eyes glossy. you felt like a bunny in front of an angry wolf. you couldn’t tell if it was sexy, scary, or both.

“i’ve tried so fucking long to convince myself that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t know how much of a fucking nuisance you were. how everytime you walked out the house in those tiny outfits, i’d go up to my room and jerk off to the thought of ripping them off of you.”

you were sure you looked stupid as fuck right now, only glancing up at him between your lashes and biting your lip. “say something bunny. speak up.”

“m sorry.” you whispered, choked up a little. he stopped pacing suddenly and turned to you. kneeling in front of you he brushed the single tear that fell from your eye off your cheek.

“oh baby, i’m not really mad at you. i’m sexually frustrated from the teasing you’ve been doing but i could never be mad at you sweet girl.”

he kissed both your cheeks and held your face in his hands. “lighten up baby. can’t give you what we both want if your sad.” he whispered, making you look up at him with only need in your eyes.

“what we both want?” you asked, albeit dumbly. “don’t play. i know you want me to fuck you. i can hear your moaning through the fucking walls bunny.” he began to mock your moans and whimpers as your whole face turned red and your chest flared with embarrassment. you finally stood up on your tip toes and kissed him. letting your lips collide in a feverish dance.

he kissed you at first, tenderly, tentative even. as if he was scared to break you. but the slight noises you’d let out as he applied pressure slightly made his thoughts go into a frenzy. he couldn’t keep up with his mind. his hands going from your waist, your ass, your neck, your back, and back to your waist.

he walked you backwards until you fell onto the bed where he crawled over you. “is this okay baby?” he asked as he kissed down your tummy between each word. you nodded with slight anxiety from what comes next.

as he slid your skirt up you yelled out a “wait!” he immediately pulled back as if he was burned.

“did i do something?” he asked, slight worry in his eyes.

“no no, not at all!” you replied, relief flooding through his veins. “i just, i haven’t shaved.”

he stared at you like you were dumb. “i don’t give a fuck. baby i’m a grown man, ion care about a little bit of hair.”

he kissed your clit through your panties after dat sentence and slowly pulled the down to your ankles. he tugged them off and wrapped them around your wrist to keep you still.

pulling a leg over each shoulder he licked one long stripe up your slit, kitten licking to wear he saw fit. this was what he was waiting for. drowning between your thighs. he could feel your arousal gushing out of you and mixing with the saliva on his tongue.

he laps at your cunt as if it’s his last meal, savoring everything he can. he’s mumbling gibberish, pussy drunk almost. babbling about how he needs this, how he wants to become full off of your juices and nothing else. he pushes his tongue inside of you and flicks at your g spot with his tongue. it’s a stretch but it’s worth the reaction it pulls out of you.

your back arches and your hands pull at the sheets next to you, looking for something to ground you. Rafe pulls a hand to your hip to hold you down, his dominant one going towards his pants. you can barely register the clink of his belt.

He pulls himself out of his confines and rubs his tip with b his thumb, spreading his precum around as lube. he tugs his cock in tandem with his long and steady licks of your cunt. he cums right before when you do. the groaning and moaning of his orgasm rushing through him vibrates on your cunt, making you hit your peak with a flame alight inside your whole body.

your orgasm rips through you and it’s blinding almost. you come to after he kisses your neck and lets his half hard cock sit on your tummy as he rubs your head trying to get you to come back to him.

“come on sweet girl, don’t tell me you’re sleep.” you drearily respond, barely there. he smiles starting a bath for you, grabbing a snack, and getting ready to take care of his best girl. only you.

[sharkylad]

Thinking about the fact that Mabel and Dipper didn't know they had two great uncles.

Yeah they are 12 and at 12 I had a shotty understanding of my family tree- But really? Nobody brought up their great uncle? Stanley? Especially since they'll be staying with his twin brother, Stanford?

Shermie never went to Stan's fake funeral, which to me means the twos relationship was strained on some level. If Shermie is older that means his view of Stan was poisoned in some way, that even as kids they weren't close. If the Shermie is younger then he never even got to meet Stan and all he knew about him was how he failed his family. Hell, people probably barely mentioned Stanley TO Shermie.

The fact that Stan had become a black stain upon the Pines family name makes me so vividly upset. Stanley faked his death and the family just- seemingly decided to strike him from the record. To pretend he didn't existed to spare themselves the sadness and shame.

Stanford and Shermie Pines. The only children worth mentioning of Filbrick and Caryn Pines.

It was never Stanford that was lost to the world. It was Stanley, ever since he had to leave New Jersy- it was always him that had to be struck from the record. Change his name, change his state, change his affiliations, destroy the remains of ghost that was Stanley Pines. Kill him so the family doesn't bring him up, doesn't ask questions, stops asking "Stanford" about his twin.

I just keep thinking about the fact that since the day he made one single mistake all the way up until Ford walks out of that machine- Stanley Pines was killed and did not exist. And Stan himself had no one to blame, he had to play the part in his own demise- He is the only one who ever knew Stanley was alive and has been for decades.

He lives in the multitudes of every personality he's ever taken, all in the hope that he himself can stop being Stanley Pines.

[i-yap]

Jason thoughts with reader

unlike dick, he NEEDS PDA. just hold onto his arm, hand , ( may make a post on this specifically if u guys want?) . will randomly come behind you and place his head on your shoulder and glare at whoever stole your attention from him. will make u sit on his lap, will makeout with you ( but will hide you from public view Ex. have u pressed against a wall while he kisses you his tall frame hiding you from view) Refuses to leave you even for a second, hates being with other people when u guys can just be alone together.

wants to do childish stuff with you or likes it when u make him do childish stuff. acting like kids in love, running around being free and happy and together . he never rlly had all that before meeting you .

stares...a lot. after a long crime fighting night he is sitting on the kitchen stool watching u make your morning coffee and he just feels so warm and in love ...its like chocking on sunshine. He gets so overwhelmed by it he just needs to look away for a second to pull himself together. He wont ever tell you why he is staring ..may make a stupid quip like " just wondering why your face so weird" " weren't you just quoting me poetry on how my face rivals heavens last night jay?" "no shutup ur delusional".

Which brings me to - playful roasting. oh god he will roast u all the time but you can always tell he is joking. has that stupid smirk and even a small stutter sometimes. Cause he wanted to tell you he loves when u hug him and it may just heal him but instead he says " Le-leave me you si-silly uh MONKEY..yea monkey" but he is holding you so tight and blushing like crazy.

doesn't sexually tease you, straight up says the most vulgar things very randomly like " damn this dressing table looks nice, we could get a mirror too so that I can see your tits as I fuck you from behind on this thing " at a home depot. does not care where you guys are. does not blush, does not smile its like he is straight up listing facts.

Jason blushes a lot . catch him off guard and he is red as a tomato

you guys seem to really prefer jason over dick and the other characters..sad sort of I like writing dick a lot .

[willowsnook]

Done Waiting

Lando Norris x bsf!reader

She isn’t you

Hi, could I request a salami sandwich with tomato on wheat bread, please, and thank you. Request from @itsnotsophiasworld

—-------------------------------

MF: SOS, can anyone fly to Spain to check on Lando? From what I’ve gathered, he is staying in an Airbnb by himself and very much in his head. I’m caught up in some work stuff, or else I’d make the trip myself. 

Your heart sank reading Max's text to your friend group. Lando had been having a rough season and was constantly getting ripped apart in the media, no matter what he did. All you could do was make sure that he knew you were there for him and try to be around as much as possible, which was easy as you also lived in Monaco. But after the last race before summer break, none of you had heard from him. 

Looking at flights, you quickly replied to the group saying that you could go. One of the many perks of working remotely was that you could pick up your computer and go anywhere, so leaving to help Lando was a no-brainer. There was a flight leaving tonight, so you purchased that and started to pack. 

You wished the world could see him the way that you did. He was a caring, down-to-earth friend who would do anything for the people he loved. It was hard for anyone who knew him not to like him, and it was hard for you not to be in love with him. 

It hadn’t taken you long after meeting him to fall for his charm, but he had been dating someone else then, so you settled for friendship. That was three years ago, and you’d dated guys since, but the feelings still lingered. He could make you feel like you were the only girl in the world, so it was easy to get sucked in. 

Ultimately, you valued your friendship too much to ever act on it, even when you were both single. You’d been through too much together to risk losing him. You had a hunch that he felt the same way about you because of how overly affectionate he was with you compared to everyone else and that you were usually his first call. Still, his life was busy, and you understood that a girlfriend didn’t fit in that picture right now. 

Landing in Spain around 10, you grabbed your luggage before jumping in a cab to the address Max had sent you. The Airbnb was a cute little beach cottage right on the ocean, and you inhaled a deep breath of salty air and instantly felt better. 

The door to the house swung open, and you were greeted by what seemed to be a very irritated Lando. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Making sure you don’t do something crazy,” you replied, mirroring him with his arms. 

“I want to be alone.”

“I don’t care.” 

You stared at each other for a while, neither one giving in before he finally sighed and moved past you to grab your suitcase, grumbling to himself. The cottage had windows on the backside, allowing a constant view of the ocean, which you could appreciate. Lando put my luggage in the guest room before joining me as you looked at the water. 

“You didn’t have to come; I’m fine,” he muttered. You looked over at him with a sad smile, reaching your hand down to grab his. 

“I wanted to come.” He gave you a small smile, and you took in his exhausted state, noting just how bad it really was. 

“Why don’t we get some rest? Then you’ll be ready for a full day tomorrow,” you suggested, and he looked over at you. 

“I’m here to relax, y/n,” he said, and you smiled mischievously. 

“It will be relaxing, I promise.”

It was not relaxing. 

You dragged Lando out of bed at 7 a.m. to go on a run, and he was not happy with you, but you were just happy he came along. Jogging through the little town, you could tell that his mood was improving as he kept pace with you. 

Out of breath, you were hunched over as you two had climbed to the top of a dune. 

“Are you not relaxed?” Lando teased, and you gave him the finger. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” 

“Yeah, I need to log on when we get back to the place,” you wheezed, and he handed you his water bottle. “What are your plans for while I work?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, scroll through social media hate, maybe watch all my old races and critique everything I did; the possibilities are endless.” 

Shooting him a look, you sighed, “That would be funny if I didn’t know you’d already been doing that.” 

He looked down at his feet, and you moved over to him, wrapping your arms around his torso. His head found your shoulder, he breathed deeply, and you held on tighter. 

“You’re going to be okay Lan,” you said, looking up at him. 

“I know,” he said sadly. 

Lando spent the rest of the day in the water while you worked, slipping away to get groceries for the night. He hadn’t had time to hide all the takeout bags and boxes he had been surviving on, so you figured a homecooked meal would do him well. 

Having dealt with him being a picky eater for a while, you were finishing up your favorite spaghetti and meatballs recipe when he came back into the house. 

“Smells great,” he commented and you smiled. “Can we eat outside?”

“You read my mind,” you replied, plating the food. 

Eating on the back deck, you felt a sense of serenity as the sound of waves crashing filled your ears. 

“This place is amazing; how did you find it?” You asked, turning to Lando. 

“Honestly, I just opened the app and picked the first place I saw that looked secluded,” he admitted. “I just wanted to be away from everyone.” 

“We are here for you to lean on Lan,” you said softly. “I’m never going to leave you.” 

“I know that, but I just don’t want to disappoint you,” he confessed, and your heart sank. 

“Lando Norris,” you said, forcing him to look at you. “There is nothing you could ever do to disappoint me. I am so insanely proud of everything you’ve accomplished. Please come back to Monaco with me tomorrow.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” He whispered, holding out his arms. You climbed into his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and running your fingers through his hair. 

“You buy me so much shit so I have to be nice to you,” you joked and he giggled. He pulled his head back to look at you, and your breath hitched because of the lack of distance between the two of you. Shifting, you tried to move back but his grip on you tightened so you leaned down to bring your lips to his. As you were a millimeter away his phone started to ring and you rested your head briefly against his, groaning internally. 

Sliding off of him you handed him his phone as it was Max calling. Hearing him tell Max he was coming home the next day made you smile, and you gathered all the dishes to clean up. He joined you a little later, and neither of you brought up the almost kiss; you wrote it off as something that happened in the heat of the moment. 

—------------------------------

Zandvoort was a dream, and you were so glad you made the trip with your friends. The next race you were going to was Singapore and Lando had invited you, Max, and some others to hang out the week before in Portugal. 

Your friend group had rented a big house, and you were ready to soak in the sun and relax after taking the week off work. Pietra and you had flown in together and met up with everyone that night at dinner. 

“Hi, I’m Mary,” a girl you didn’t recognize said to you, holding out her hand. You smiled back warmly, introducing yourself. 

“Mary and I met at a shoot early this year,” Pietra explained, and you nodded. You chatted with her for a while over dinner, glad to have another girl on the trip. 

You were less happy the next day when you watched this girl throw herself at Lando every chance she got. Right now, you were watching as she asked Lando how to show her how to hit the ball off the tee at the golf course where you guys were. 

“Ya know I went golfing with her two weeks ago, and she had a perfect swing,” Pietra muttered and you grimaced, watching Lando wrap his arms around the girl to guide her swing. It seemed like she would find a way to touch him no matter where you went. Up against him at dinner, clinging to him in the pool, leaning on him while you were watching a movie. 

At this point your jealousy was flaring up and you were trying to keep your composure, especially because this girl had been nothing but nice to you. What made it worse was that Lando entertained it, accepting her advances right in front of you. Your mind replayed that almost kiss back in Spain and the way the two of you had gotten closer since that trip. It had seemed to you that something was changing in your relationship, but clearly not. The whole trip you felt like your heart was being ripped apart and you were starting to wonder if you needed to take a break from being around him until you could get over your crush. 

Two nights before you were supposed to leave the group ended up at a club downtown as a pre-celebration for what you predicted would be a Lando win in Singapore. Rounds and rounds of shots were taken and you were dancing with Pietra on the dance floor trying to have a good time. 

You briefly glanced back at the VIP section, and your stomach dropped. Mary was sitting on Lando’s lap, and you watched as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Water instantly filled your eyes, and Pietra looked concerned before following your gaze. She looked at you with such sadness that you decided then and there that you were done. 

Leaving the club you walked back to the Airbnb alone. You weren’t sure if it was your drunkenness or just the emotional exhaustion of the situation but you started to get angry. Time after time, you were there for him and this is what you got back. It would be different if he had made it clear from the start that he wasn’t interested but he didn’t do that. He slept in your bed back in Monaco on nights like these, he spoiled you constantly with gifts, and you knew that he had told other drivers on the grid to back off from you, laying a claim. 

God, you were so fucking over it. 

You gathered all your stuff and threw it in your suitcase, calling for a cab to take you to the airport. You made it down the stairs just as Max was coming in. His face fell as he saw your bag. 

"No y/n don’t go,” he pleaded, and you shook your head, already feeling tears start to fill your eyes. 

“I can’t fucking do this anymore Max,” you said, voice cracking. “I have to protect my heart.” 

“You know he loves you,” he said moving towards you to hold you. “Everyone knows that.” 

“If that’s true, why have I watched him with her this whole weekend? Why did I just watch him sit there when she stuck her tongue down his throat right in front of me,” you yelled and Max stayed silent. “Exactly. I need some space to figure out how things can move forward between us.” 

Max helped you carry your bag outside and the two of you stood silently waiting for the car. Just as it pulled up, Lando walked up to the house, alone. 

“Y/N!” He called out, not seeing your suitcase yet. “Where’d you run off too? I was looking for you.” 

You turned around and his eyes widened seeing your tear stained face, his gaze flickering down to your bag. 

“What’s going on?” He asked hoarsely and you just shook your head turning back to get into the car before you started to sob. 

“Let her go mate,” you heard Max tell him and you looked out the window to see him holding Lando back. The sight made you cry harder as the car finally drove off. 

Lando’s POV

Watching the car disappear down the street, Lando turned to Max, panic and confusion colliding in his mind.

“Why is she leaving, Max? What the hell happened?”

Max let out a sigh, his eyes searching Lando’s face with a mix of frustration and pity. “Mate, she’s in love with you. And honestly, you’re in love with her too, even if you haven’t figured it out yet.”

Lando froze, the weight of Max’s words hitting him harder than he expected. He thought of all the moments he spent with you—the late-night talks, the shared laughter, the comforting silence. He thought about how he’d let Mary get close, but each time she reached for him, a nagging feeling crept up inside him.

She isn’t you.

The thought was so painfully clear now. It didn’t matter how kind or fun Mary was—she wasn’t you. And suddenly, he realized why none of it felt right.

“I need to go,” Lando said suddenly. “I need to go to the airport.” 

He took off down to the main street hailing a cab but when he finally got there, you were gone. 

—--------------------------------------------

You skipped the Singapore GP. You didn’t even watch it on tv so you didn’t know why everyone was wondering why despite winning, Lando looked miserable standing on the podium. 

He had texted you a million times begging you to call him but you declined the call everytime. You were trying to move on. You’d started running again in the mornings, working out of coffee shops,  and hanging out with your girlfriends. Basically you were doing everything in your power to not think of him; and it worked until 10pm each night. Then you were miserable. 

It was two weeks after Singapore when you heard knocking at your door one evening. You weren’t expecting anyone so you were especially surprised to see Oscar standing on the other side of your door. Considering he didn’t live in Monaco, you didn’t really know what to say, just stared at him silently. 

“May I come in?” He asked politely and you nodded, stepping aside to let him through. “Nice apartment.”

“Thanks,” you replied following him into the living room. “What are you doing here?”

He settled down on your couch, motioning for you to join him and you sunk down on the other side. 

“I need you to tell me what happened when you and Lando were in Portugal,” he said slowly and you immediately looked away. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you mumbled, playing with your hands. 

“It does matter,” Oscar insisted. “It’s okay if you finally rejected him but I need to know how to fix him.”

Your head snapped up, “I didn’t reject him Oscar. He basically rejected me.” 

“There’s no way,” Oscar said, shocked and you told him everything that had happened from you flying to Spain for him to him making out with that girl at the club. 

“Trust me when I say that I’m not trying to invalidate your feelings, but I feel like this is a big misunderstanding,” Oscar said and you rolled your eyes. “He is so in love with you y/n. All he does is talk about you.”

“Then why did he never tell me!” You said, voice rising. “I’ve been there the whole time Oscar, and he has never said anything. I want to be with someone who isn’t afraid to love me.” 

Oscar’s heart broke at your words, knowing you were feeling this way. 

“I came here y/n, because he is a mess without you,” he said. “I’ve never seen him like this and it’s starting to affect his racing so I’m begging you to at least think about talking to him.” 

—-------------------------------------

You would have thought that Lando would stop texting after a while but he didn’t. Every morning he texted you “good morning” and gave you updates on his day even though you weren’t responding. His plan seemed to be to slowly chip away at you until you were ready to come back and unfortunately it was working. 

Brazil was the next race that your friend group was attending and you went back and forth on what you should do before finally deciding to book a flight. Max must have told Lando because you immediately were notified that your flight had been upgraded and your hotel had been booked. 

Because of a work event, you weren’t going to be able to get there until Saturday night and probably wouldn’t see Lando until qualifying or after the race. You joined Max and Pietra on the track, bright and early on Sunday morning and you were wondering how Lando would survive with it being this early in the morning. 

Oscar gave you a big hug when he saw you and you could tell he was incredibly relieved that you were there. Qualifying was 20 minutes away and you heading towards the Paddock club when you turned a corner and were immediately wrapped up in two arms. Inhaling his familiar scent, you relaxed into his touch. 

“I missed you so fucking much,” he said into your ear and you hummed in reply. You were still unsure about pretending like nothing ever happened. He pulled back to look at you and his excitement was contagious, pulling a small smile out of you. 

“We’ll talk later okay?” He asked and you nodded. “I have a lot of things I need to say to you.”

He kissed your forehead before running off and you tried to keep your cool. Qualifying was good for him and you were feeling good about the race but a little nervous about the weather conditions. 

Sitting with Max and Pietra in the paddock club the mood was very much anxious. Lando had been doing great until a red flag reset everything. He had fallen down because of pitting and you watched as he went off the track on that first turn, your heart sinking. The rest of the race was a blur and he finished in P6 which you knew would not go over well with him. 

After the race, you felt hesitant heading back to the McLaren hospitality area. You weren’t sure if he’d want to see you, especially in his disappointment. But as you lingered by the entrance, you caught sight of him. Lando was drenched, exhausted, and his usual radiant energy seemed dimmed. Still, he locked eyes with you, a faint smile managing to pull at the corner of his lips.

He walked over slowly, stopping right in front of you. “You waited for me?”

“Of course I did, Lando,” you replied softly, feeling the gravity of the moment settle in. “I always do.”

He nodded, then glanced around at the crowded area. “Can we go somewhere… quieter?”

You followed him through the paddock until you found yourselves outside in a secluded spot overlooking the track. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Finally, Lando took a deep breath.

“I was an idiot,” he began, voice raw with honesty. “You don’t know how many times I replayed that trip to Portugal, thinking about what I could’ve done differently. I didn’t understand how much it would hurt you… I was blind to everything but my own mess.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he kept going, unable to hold back.

“You’ve been the best part of my life for years, and it took almost losing you to realize how much I’d taken you for granted. I’m sorry, y/n. I thought I was protecting you by not… admitting how I feel. I thought if I never said it out loud, maybe it’d hurt less. But I can’t pretend anymore. I love you.”

Hearing those words, the walls you’d built around yourself began to crack, the anger and disappointment from before softening as you looked into his eyes.

“I’ve loved you for so long,” you whispered and he gave you a soft smile. 

“I know, I’m sorry I didn’t see it before.” 

When he kissed you, it was tender and full of all the unspoken words and missed opportunities between you. As you pulled away, you both smiled, feeling the weight of the past couple of weeks finally lift.

[satoruxx]

PARACOSM OF THE GODS.

PAIRING: gojo satoru x f!reader, geto suguru x f!reader | 11.5k words

SUMMARY: ok here we go, canon au, angst, fluff, best friends being in love, stsg being whipped but unable to express it, reader is clueless as usual, timeskips, canon compliant deaths, bittersweet, longing, mutual pining, emotionally stunted teens, dad!gojo makes an appearance, hopefully that’s it i'm tired of typing

RHEYA'S NOTE: highkey lowkey stressed posting bc this has been sitting in my wips for 4 years now. i honestly didn't have to add much to it i basically just proofread. but yeah when you maladaptive daydream and create a plot where you're a character in jjk and you're also in love with gojo and geto this is what happens. a little sad to let this go but it's time !! plus i can add more parts later. but anyways pls lmk what you think, i'm super curious to know <33

i. the unknown

satoru's first impression of you is anything but kind.  

his words come casually, free into the wind without care, and they aren't meant for you to hear. instead, they fall only to suguru's ears, evoking a deep chuckle and a slight shake of his head. his bangs swish a little with the movement, but satoru is too busy eyeing you over the frame of his shades to notice. 

you're lucky to have not heard it, because the intent with which it was said would have probably made your brow tick with frustration. he says it without a thought, as if he hasn't the slightest bit of interest in you as hints of arrogance fill his tone. 

"who's the rookie?" 

satoru and suguru sit outside against the patio railings of the classroom they had chosen for the day. it overlooks the grounds of the school, where they have a clear view of who approaches the main entrance. suguru absentmindedly clicks his lighter—shoko had gone to get another pack of cigarettes. 

it is from this higher point that they have a clear view of you. you're so obviously new to this, satoru thinks as he watches how you awkwardly stand in front of yaga sensei. 

he already wants to label you as a side character. it's mean, he realizes—cruel even, but he can barely bring himself to care. 

"yaga sensei mentioned that there'd be a new student joining us this week," suguru says, fingering the bangs hanging in front of his eyes. they roam over you with only slight interest before uttering your full name, just as his teacher had said it.

satoru repeats it with a hum. "not a big name or anything. a small-sized family of sorcerers i think." he shrugs carelessly. "but honestly i never really paid attention to all those stupid clan and jujutsu family lessons." 

suguru only responds with a good-natured chuckle, tearing his eyes away from the scene to look at his friend. "no shit." 

the two sit in quiet silence, watching yaga's lips move in structured, emotionless greetings as he shakes your hand. satoru is especially focused on the hunching of your shoulders and the way your eyes nervously dart around. 

suguru is the first to interrupt the peace. 

"maybe she's strong?" 

"are you kidding?" satoru scoffs as he stands up straight, shoving his fists into his pockets. he turns his nose up slightly. "that's not the attitude of someone who's confident in their abilities." 

ii. routine 

"can i ask you guys a question?" 

a cool breeze tickles your skin, goosebumps rising in its wake, and you suppress a shiver. the smell of the air tells you winter is fast approaching. 

"you just did," satoru hums, his snowy hair splayed out against stems of green grass. suguru's chuckle reverberates deep in his chest, and you have to push back an exasperated smile. 

"another one then," you press, leaning over satoru's face to force yourself into his view. his blue eyes pierce through yours over the dark-rimmed frames of his glasses, and even after seeing them so many times, they still feel as dominating as the first. he hums again, and you take that as your cue. 

"what did you first think of me when we met all those months ago?" 

satoru sits up quickly, and you can already feel your shoulders dropping when you catch a glimpse of the teasing smirk on his lips. he shifts so that he's directly facing you, leaning close so that the two of you are barely a palm's distance from one another. 

"thought you were an annoying little rookie~" he sings and you immediately shove at his shoulder.

"'m not a rookie anymore," you huff, and satoru laughs joyously. suguru only grins, his eyes darting between the two of you happily. satoru moves himself into a proper sitting position, digging his long fingers into your bag of chips and popping one into his mouth. you swat at his hand, even though you don't mean it, because though you complain about gojo satoru all the time, you would give him the whole world if you could. 

you and satoru take turns reaching into the bag. you wonder if the sound of crunching disturbs suguru. he's not asleep—he's just doing that thing where he keeps his eyes closed and escapes to his own land of tranquility. you'd like to give him as much peace as you can, so you stay quiet. satoru does too, but you think that's just because you aren't talking to him. 

the quiet is nice when you're with them. sometimes silence makes you feel alone—paranoid. it feels like there is some impending doom hovering over your shoulder, and all you can do is wait for it to come. but with them it is different. you know that any danger in the quiet will be caught by the two of them. maybe that's why it's so easy to let your guard down around them. you trust that they won't let you die.  

"i thought you were weak," satoru pipes up after a few minutes of silence. "you didn't seem like you were confident in your abilities, and that's a sign of weakness." 

after spending so much time with satoru and suguru, the word weak has permeated almost every one of your conversations. later you learned how much more significant it was for them to label someone as strong. you chase after the word—crave it.

"and turns out that wasn't true." suguru adds with a smile, his head leaning back against the trunk of the tree. his eyes are still closed serenely and you wonder if he can feel the way you're gazing at him. 

"yeah and now you act like some big hotshot," satoru grumbles, as though he doesn't want to admit to his old mistake, but you can hear his smile. it annoys you, the way his once degrading little nickname has now somewhat turned into a term of endearment. you would rather die than admit that you like hearing him say it. 

"well, I'm glad that i was able to prove you both wrong."

the conversation ends there. 

shoko returns a few minutes later, tossing you a can of soda and suguru a pack of cigarettes. as soon as she sits down in her spot under the tree you're forcing your head into her lap and kicking your feet onto satoru's legs. you ignore his complaints, because you know that in just a little bit he'll quiet down and his hand will rest over your ankle, fingers soft but firm. they'll occasionally drum some rhythmic tune, or draw nonsensical patterns against your skin.

shoko's fingers thread through your hair, just like they always do, and you know that in a few minutes you'll doze off in her lap, just like you always do. it's clockwork, this thing that you have with them. they make the days keep going—time doesn't stop for you. 

a part of you wishes you could freeze time at that moment. 

but you can't. 

iii. halcyon

"hey suguru?"

"hm?"

"how come you always do your hair the same way?"

suguru glances up from his book. he's seated at your desk, and for a minute, the breeze pushes your curtains so that they block your view of him. satoru groans lightly from your left, turning on his side to snuggle deeper into your pillow, and slumber overtakes him once more. him and shoko remain quiet, faces free of worry as they dream in a land that is so unlike the real world you live in.

"what do you mean?" suguru asks in response to your question. he has an amused smile on his face as he places his book on your desk, though his thumb and pointer finger keep his page.

"well…" you suddenly feel stupid for asking, but he's looking at you so intently now. "you have such nice hair. you could style it in so many different ways."

"are you saying you don't like my hair the way it is?" he frowns.

"no no!" you scramble, shaking your head emphatically. quite the opposite actually you think he's so so attractive—how on earth did you screw this up so badly? "that's not it i just—"

he laughs, tilting his head fondly. "i'm just messing with you, hotshot."

you blanch, before crossing your arms with a huff. "asshole…"

he chuckles, before lifting a calloused hand up to finger the tie that holds his hair in a bun. he glances back at you, before a michevious smile settles on his face. he gives the tie one sharp tug, and the bun falls away. black hair drops, resting on his shoulders, and you stare at him—oddly parched. wind brushes through the open window, tickling your curtains, tickling his now open hair. you had seen his hair down before, of course. in the few seconds after a sparring session when the bun had gotten loose, or when too many strands escaped the tie and fell in front of his face (he always pushed them away with an agitated huff). but now he looks different—good, you realize. he looks good.

"how should i style it then, hotshot?"

his question shakes you out of your daze. you hum in contemplation. "i don't know."

he laughs quietly, as to not wake the other two. "didn't you just say there were so many ways to style it? enlighten me then," he teases, reaching over to grab a small scrap of paper from your desk. he slots it where his fingers are holding place, and then closes the book. he swivels in the chair to face you completely, rolling over so that he's right in front of you.

"well…" you start, biting your lip in thought. "a ponytail maybe?"

suguru bunches his hair into his fist, holding it up against his head. "and? how do i look?"

you grin, eyeing the new style with a stifled laugh. "fantastic."

he laughs again, louder this time, before dropping his hand.

"it looked good though!" you laugh and he rolls his eyes fondly.

"yeah yeah," he dismisses with a wave of his hand. he looks back at you, eyes tracing over your hair before he grins wide.

"i like yours."

you blink. "mine?"

"the way you did your hair today," he points to the half up-half down style you've thrown together. a dark blue ribbon holds the hair in place—satoru had said it matched nicely with your uniform. suguru's eyes gleam as he appraises it. "it's nice. it looks really pretty on you."

something in your chest feels like it fell off a cliff.

"oh—" you stumble, before smiling at him because that's all you can do when he makes you feel like this. "thanks suguru."

"do mine like that," he says quickly.

once again, you blink owlishly and all you can manage is a stupid "huh?"

"do my hair like that," he repeats, getting up from the chair to sit at your feet, back towards you. he crosses his legs and puts his hands in his lap, patiently waiting.

"you can't do it yourself?" you tease, scooting closer to the edge of the bed.

"i can," he replies and you can hear the easy smile in his voice. "but i want you to do it for me."

"okay then!" you laugh before gently parting sections of his hair out. and then you work in silence, putting more effort into his hair than you've ever done with your own.

iv. fragility

"lady riko does not have any relations. when she was young, her family was involved in an accident…since then, i've been her caretaker. so please let her at least spend time with her fr—" 

"—so that makes you her family then." 

suguru's words seem to stun kuroi, the weight of riko's situation finally making itself clear as her face crumbles. 

"…yes." 

you listen to the way her voice wobbles, and try to suppress the poisonous lump forming in your throat. 

"then we do everything we can to make her happy," you say solemnly, leaving no room for argument. suguru seems to agree and says nothing—some deeper part of you feels something more than thankful towards him. 

"you're awfully sensitive for a jujustu sorcerer, you know that?" satoru comments offhandedly. you turn to look at him, meeting his piercing gaze over dark rims. 

"maybe," you concur. "is that considered weak?" 

satoru seems to ponder his answer, before shrugging, a light smile on his face. "to some people, maybe." 

you manage to smile back, and he takes in the expression with an odd look on his face. "say what you want, satoru. but you agree with me, don't you?" 

he looks away, eyes gazing out to the distance where you know riko is currently in class with her friends, trying to live the life she wants, and something in them softens considerably. 

"we'll do things the way she wants us to." 

it's one sentence, said without a smile or laugh, but hearing it fall from satoru's lips makes you beam at him. 

that's just your kindness, isn't it, satoru?

your heart leaps when you notice the tips of his ears tinge with rouge. 

v. longing

riko's hand is warm against the coolness of your fingers. your body feels hyperaware of your surroundings, toes deep in hot sand and salty air sticking to your skin. for some odd reason, you can't seem to relax. unconsciously, you tighten your grip around the young girl's palm. she glances up at you, but when you look down at her, she's wearing the biggest smile you've ever seen. 

satoru's presence makes itself known behind you—his shadow looms over yours in the sand. "it'll be fine," he says.

you can't see his face, nor can you see suguru who stands at his side, but your shoulders drop slightly, and you find yourself smiling back at riko. 

"i'm getting in the water!" she squeals eagerly, before dragging a helpless kuroi with her. satoru laughs—a clear, pristine sound—and follows after her. you watch the three of them with a fond smile, something akin to content settling deep within you.  

"and what are you planning on doing?" suguru asks. you turn to look at him, watching the way his heavy eyes stay focused on you. 

"hmm," you quirk a brow mischievously. "build sandcastles with me?" 

suguru blinks owlishly before he breaks out into a good-natured laugh. 

"deal." he walks closer to the water's edge, where the sand is damper, and crouches down. he turns to look at you over his shoulder. "don't make me do all the work, hotshot." 

you stand there, taking him in—really taking him in. he's just as clear as the sky behind him, and the sun shining on his face makes his smile glow. you want him to continue smiling at you like that well into the future. the waves crash onto the shore, as though the ocean is chasing his radiance, and an overwhelming feeling of unfiltered affection swells in your chest. 

your feet carry you forward, and you think that they might always lead you back to him. 

the sun rises as time passes, and occasionally you spare a glance at satoru and riko, who are screaming as they splash water at one another. and then you catch a glimpse of kuroi, who stands with her feet in the water, a soft smile on her face. 

and in that moment, nothing can be ruined. 

"what's wrong?" suguru's voice calls out, and you tear your gaze away from the others to look back at him. he stands behind you with two strawberry ice cream cones in his hands. 

"nothing," you hum, a serene smile on your face. "everything's perfect."

his eyes trace your face, stopping to linger on your smile, and they soften. "it is, isn't it?" 

he turns to the ocean, watching satoru and riko, and his eyes sparkle. "i hope it stays like this always." 

"me too." 

he bends down to take his place at your side before he hands you a cone. you take it from him. suguru's eyes drift away from you to look down at his castle. 

"i think it looks great," he expresses, before taking a lick of his ice cream. 

you roll your eyes with a huff. "yeah, because you made it look so nice. you're unnecessarily good at this, suguru." 

he laughs, waving his hand dismissively. "no no, we did it together! and yours is nice too!" 

"maybe," you grin, looking at his castle. "but yours is extra pretty." 

he smiles back, before pointing at a small hole in his sand tower. "see this room? it's yours." 

"mine?" you chuckle.

"yeah, all yours," he hums softly. "this is my castle and you get your own room." 

"oh? and why's that?" 

suguru's gaze lingers on you, and his dark eyes soften considerably. "because you'll always have a place in my home." 

you stare at him, speechless—something hammers away at the inner crevices of your chest. 

"and this one—" he points to another hole a few inches away from the first. "—is my room." 

"well in that case, that room is mine too!" you declare.

"what?" he barks out a laugh. "how does that work?" 

"well…" you grin at him, the sun burning into your cheeks. "because my home is wherever you are!" 

suguru's cheeky smile fades and his eyes widen. he looks at you, mouth agape, and you're about to say something else before sticky coolness trickles down your wrist. 

"ack!" you hurry to wipe away the strawberry ice cream dripping down your skin and you completely miss the red that creeps up his neck and seeps into his ears. 

vi. ice bath

shoko's fingers are unbelievably soft. you're grateful that you were unconscious through most of her procedures on your battered body—you don't think you would've handled the pain too well. she's quiet as she works over the large wound that now covers almost half of your torso. the man with the scar on his lip had done quite the number on you, and you don't think you'll ever forget the searing ache of his blade slicing through your flesh. he had left you in a bloodied pile, isolated, and you hadn't seen what had happened to suguru after the man shot riko. you could only lay there, vision swimming as a bitter taste filled your mouth—a reminder of the life you failed to protect.

the pain had been the only thing you could focus on, until satoru was on his knees at your side and tightly gripping your shoulders. your hazy focus was drawn to his lips as he spewed curses and insults at you. 

"why didn't you run away, you little shit," he had shouted, a feral look in his eyes. there was something different about him—a change in his very being that you could see even in the throes of death. "shoko's coming, do you hear me? for fuck's sake, keep your eyes open, hotshot!" 

you swore you saw his eyes shine behind that look of uncontrolled anger. he had been talking a mile a minute and your focus had waned until you could only see his lips move, no sound reaching your ears.

you've never thought satoru looked more godly than he did at that moment.

suguru eventually found his way into your field of vision—knelt at satoru's side. his large hand had squeezed your limp fingers in a death grip. he was sweating, and his eyes were darting back and forth between your pale face and bloodied torso, something akin to guilt swimming in them. you wished that you had the strength in you to squeeze his hand in return. the last thing you remember seeing is his dark hair falling in front of his face as he turned to shout at whoever was approaching.

now you're awake. disoriented and bleary, but awake, and all you can look at is the way shoko's bangs fall over her furrowed brows. she's taken care of the bleeding, and now all that's left is a dull throbbing, reminding you of how close you had toed the line with death. you don't know this yet, but the scar will remain for the rest of your life, and that dull throbbing will be a permanent reminder of your narrow escape. 

shoko hasn't said a word since she noticed your eyelids flutter open. you want to ask her so many things. important things that cannot wait: 

where's satoru? how about suguru? i saw them both. satoru's alive, right? and suguru, too? the man—with the scar. where did he go? he said that satoru—riko….where is riko? and—and kuroi…i—i..couldn't save riko. when did you get here, shoko? and why am i the only one who's being taken care of by you? 

you want to ask her. but she's making a very odd expression as her hands ghost over your body. you've never seen it before, this odd quirking of her lips. her teeth sink into the bottom one, and she chews and bites and nibbles like it's some kind of nervous tell. 

"shoko?" 

it's all you can manage to say—all you dare. your voice is dry, shaky, and sounds almost foreign to your ears. you're going to ask more, at least one of those thousand questions you had asked in your head earlier, but you don't get to because she speaks before you. 

"shut up," she spits, and the wobble in her voice has you pinching your lips shut and feeling closer to death than you did before. 

vii. acid rain

the sound of clapping is deafening. you don't think you've ever heard a sound so horrid in your life before, and you feel as though your ears are bleeding heavily. you can faintly make out the conversation between satoru and suguru, your ears struggling to pick out the tones of their voices. 

"no…" you hear suguru say quietly. "it doesn't matter if I'm fine…"

you can feel satoru's eyes roam over your motionless body, watching the way you gaze out into the crowd impassively. 

"let's get out of here, guys."

your feet carry you numbly, and you aren't aware of anything except the way riko's arm is swinging in front of you lifelessly. there are no mirrors around—no way of catching the track of tears cutting over your cheeks. the places where the salt touches burn like acid. you say nothing. 

satoru's gaze feels intrusive. he doesn't need to ask you anything—he just knows. it's like your body is radiating the emotions tumbling around in your gut. 

you're awfully sensitive for a jujutsu sorcerer, you know that?

"do you want to…kill them all?" 

the question stuns you, and for the first time, you can shake yourself out of your daze to look at satoru directly. blood is smeared over the left side of his face, cerulean eyes dimmed, as though something had pulled the shine out of them. red seeps into the fine hairs of his restless eyebrows. 

"right now, i probably wouldn't even feel anything," he continues, staring at you listlessly.

you think satoru might be feeling just as numb as you are. you don't know what happened to him yet. the last you had heard, gojo satoru had been killed by the man with the scar. he had boasted about it to you before he attempted to kill you too. but then satoru was at your side again, completely alive as he ran your battered body to shoko like a crazed man. 

you'll find out later who the man with the scar on his lip was, and what kind of legacy he had left behind. but for right now, all you see is a teenager with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and you know your answer.

satoru could help the pain go away; he'd be able to make the clapping stop—maybe then your ears wouldn't bleed anymore. but you couldn't ask that of him. 

"forget it. it's pointless," suguru mutters, and you're glad he's on the same page as you. not because any of these people deserve pity, but because satoru deserves a break—one less burden for him to carry. 

you hear suguru say more, but you can't focus. you continue to listen to the sound of the clapping, and once again lose yourself as you stare at riko's bloodied fingertips. 

"pointless, huh?" satoru mumbles in response to suguru's answer. "does there need to be a reason?" 

"of course. it's important," suguru's voice doesn't carry the same pleasant tone it always does. instead, it sounds strained, and tired beyond belief. unsure. "especially as jujutsu sorcerers." 

satoru doesn't respond, but you know that he's measuring the weight of his friend's words. that's how it was with the two of them. they both balance each other out—their moral compasses influenced by one another. but then you feel satoru look up from riko's body and turn to you. suguru follows suit, and before you can wonder why, it hits you: satoru had asked you both. 

you suck a deep breath in, feeling unusually breathless. the flesh of your stomach tingles with a painful reminder of what might've been, and you make up your mind. 

"killing them won't change anything," you say, breaking your silence. the tears on your cheeks have dried, but they leave a rigid trail in their wake—a trail that still stings. "let's just leave it at that." 

viii. fever dreams

satoru lies next to you. 

a few nights have passed since riko's death, and you've chosen to stay holed up in your room. you're not sure why—death has always played a big role in your life. you don't understand why it's different this time. 

tonight is different as well. while you've maintained a distance from everyone since that day, save for classes and passing by people on school grounds, today you've decided to let someone in. satoru's the lucky one, mostly because he would've pestered you until you opened your door for him anyway. 

it's strange though. he had knocked over and over, and when you finally opened up with a snappy jab at his annoying personality, he had brushed straight past you and laid across your bed. he hadn't said a word since then, and you've found yourself lying next to him in silence for quite a while. 

his hand stretches out in the darkness and you can feel his fingertips brush over the skin of your arm. it's delicate, like he's testing his limits, but you understand. it's just to ground himself—to know that you're still here, with him. to be sure that you're still alive.

you think the scar that goes down your body bothers him a lot more than it bothers you. 

"'m here," you mumble sleepily. your fingers reach up to bump against his knuckles, and you hear him inhale deeply. his voice is throaty when he replies. 

"i know." 

ix. doubt

satoru learns that you've never been kissed before and he teases you for it.

not in a mean way, but in a way that has your cheeks heating and your eyes avoiding his. suddenly it feels like the gap between ages 16 and 17 is huge. he's barely even a year older than you and you're in the same year, but it feels as though he knows so much more about the world than you do. you want to ask suguru if it's bad that you've never had a kiss, but you don't. suguru rarely talks these days. sometimes he'll have conversations with you but won't look in your eyes when he speaks. 

"hey listen, hotshot. if you don't get a kiss by…" satoru hums, an eager smile on his face as he swings an arm around your shoulders and contemplates his words. "…let's say 27, then i'll give one to you!" 

there's an odd note of glee in his voice. 

"shut up, toru," you groan, heat flooding your cheeks. "quit joking around." 

he laughs loudly, pulling your cheek teasingly. "aw, i'm just playing. it's not a bad thing i promise!" 

your shoulders relax slightly as the snowy-haired sorcerer continues to speak. 

"i just thought that you would've kissed someone by now," he shrugs. "wasn't there that one guy you went on a few dates with? the one you met when we went to yokohama?" 

there's an almost sour expression on his face as he speaks, but you're too frustrated to care. "just because i went on a couple of dates with him doesn't mean i kissed him!"

a broad teasing smile appears on satoru's face. "is that so?" 

"ugh, i'm only 16!" you hiss, shoving him away from you. "besides i'm saving it for someone special!"

"good," you hear suguru speak up, and you turn to look at him. his fingers are interlocked, elbows resting on his knees, and he's staring down at his hands like they hold the answers to some deep questions he has. "it is something irreplaceable after all." 

x. shadow

satoru's grin is proud as he stands before the three of you, his loose shirt billowing in the summer breeze.

you stare at him, heart thumping as shoko lets out a confused gasp. "huh? what the hell was that?"

"did it automatically choose the target for your technique?" suguru asks.

"yep!" satoru stresses the word, spinning the pencil suguru had thrown as he explains. "though i am the target. i've pretty much automated what i used to have to do manually."

your head is spinning.

"now i can tell an object's danger levels based the strength of its cursed energy, its speed, mass, velocity, shape—whatever. i want to be able to discern poisons too but that's pretty hard right now." satoru's voice is even when he explains, though you can make out the hints of pride that permeate his tones. you think his voice has gotten a little deeper too. "basically this is gonna allow me to keep my limitless technique active all the time!"

"that's gonna fry your brain!" shoko interjects, shaking her hair out of her eyes.

"yeah but i can do it while i continuously generate energy on my own. that way my brain stays fresh."

you can't help but let out an amused scoff. "what brain?"

satoru chucks the eraser at you, and you laugh as it bounces off your shoulder harmlessly.

"i've been working on shortening my hand signals so i can activate red and blue simultaneously." he continues, lips twitching upward as he gives you an exaggerated glare. "after this the only things i need to work on are domain expansion and long-distance teleportation. which i should be able to do if we set up some training courses here at school."

you think if someone examined you closely, they would see the stars in your eyes when you look at satoru.

"shoko~" he calls out, grinning eagerly. "think you could get me some lab rats?"

shoko groans as satoru bounds over to pester her more emphatically. you watch him, thinking you've never seen a person quite so magnificent.

god personified into a 17-year-old body. and yet it is a body that stays so close to you—well within your reach. maybe there's nothing so godly about that at all.

"don't you get tired of getting stronger and stronger, jeez?" you complain, crossing your arms as you raise a brow at him. satoru wets his lips as he throws you a smug smile.

"don't worry hotshot, you'll catch up to me someday!" he gives you an exaggerated wink over the frames of his glasses, and you shake your head somewhat fondly.

"no way! i never want to be at your level," you huff. "i'm very comfortable living in your shadow, thank you very much!"

a strange look passes over his face, almost puzzled, but the dip in his brows melts away as he approaches you. "well—" he slings an arm over your shoulder. "if my shadow makes you happy then you're more than welcome to stay there."

you don't have time to reply. pale lashes flutter at you—a backdrop of cerulean. you think white and blue may be the prettiest combination of colors in the world.

"suguru?" satoru's voice is casual, yet the amusement has dropped from it. his arm is heavy around your shoulders. "have you lost weight? are you okay?"

you look up, seeing tired eyes behind dark stands of hair. suguru's cheekbones are prominent, and you have the sudden urge to reach out and trace your fingers over them.

his lips twitch upward weakly. "it's just the summer heat…"

his lavender eyes drift to your face as he says it, and he tilts his head as he scrutinizes your worried expression. "…i'll be fine."

xi. hellfire

you hear suguru before you see him.

his breaths come loud as he pushes the door to the morgue open, the metal clanging heavily. his eyes bore into your back, taking in your clenched fists and raised shoulders that seem to tremble.

you wonder who told suguru you'd be here. maybe nanami, who was here not long ago, and had sent you a text that merely said: the mission went badly.

or maybe it was satoru, who had been chatting with you near the entrance of campus when he saw the myriad of emotions pass over your face as you read the text. he had probably called suguru as soon as you left.

it doesn't matter—you can't bring yourself to care.

you can only think about the way haibara had smiled at you before he left that morning.

now that smile is covered by a dirty white sheet, and you can't tear your eyes away from it. the taste of blood and vomit is heavy on your tongue.

suguru says your name quietly. you can't even look at him—you're scared that you'll cry if you do.

you don't ever want to cry in front of him. or satoru—so weak in front of those who are so strong.

"he asked if i wanted to go with them and i said no because i was lazy," you hiss, teeth clenched as you spit out the words with venom. "if i had just stopped thinking about myself for a second—"

your fingers dig into the flesh of your palms—deep, deep, deeper.

you hear suguru click his tongue, and his hands wrap around yours. he yanks your fingers apart fiercely, thumbs smoothing over the bloodied indents you've made in your own skin. you tear your eyes away from the body to finally look at him.

"don't—" his breath catches as his thumbs still over your flesh, eyes going hard as he takes in the blood.

he blurs in and out of focus. his head whips up when he hears you sniffle, and his lips slant ruefully. "you—"

"i'm fine," you interrupt, blinking pointedly and taking a deep breath. "it's fine—i mean it's not fine—but i c—"

"stop." suguru grabs your shoulders, giving you an even stare. you don't know how you didn't notice it before, but he looks thinner, older. there are dark circles under his eyes—poison seeping into his skin. "you need to rest."

you stare back at him silently, but you don't feel like you agree. something about this is making you feel restless, like there is so much you need to make up for. his grip tightens, before he's wordlessly leading you to take a seat—he finds his place next to you.

"satoru took over the mission." he stares at the lifeless body on the table as he speaks. you lower your gaze.

"and nanami?" your throat feels like it's closing. suguru inhales deeply.

"he went back to the dorms."

"okay."

you try to figure out if there is any meaning in having this conversation. despite everything, weren't you expected to wake up tomorrow morning and head out on a mission once more? and when you return, you're sure that there'll be another faceless body taking haibara's place.

the cycle continues—clockwork. it scares you, just how replaceable you are.

haibara, nanami, you, another, nameless—interchangeable.

not like satoru. not like suguru. not like the strong.

you lean your head against suguru's shoulder, fingering the hem of your uniform skirt. the fabric is cool to the touch—it seems darker, heavier. heat radiates from the body next to you, and there's something about him that's making your stomach churn with nerves. "suguru?"

his voice sounds far away. "hm?"

"are you okay?"

he stiffens and you suddenly fear you've said too much—nosy, intruding, out of place. you stumble. "it's just, we haven't talked much lately."

"i'm fine," he answers, and you can hear a smile in his voice—whether it's real or fake you can't tell. "just a little tired."

you know there is truth to this. but it scares you, how this tiredness of his has lingered for months. you don't know how to tell him that.

"okay…" your voice is barely a whisper, heavy with unspoken words that you don't know how to formulate. somehow you find that silence has always been your only option.

but like usual, silence with suguru has never once been uncomfortable.

haibara's smile burns behind your eyelids.

"it should be a relatively simple mission. if you're not doing anything today senpai, would you like to come with us?"

his voice tickles your ears.

"that's alright! i'll get going then! oh right, today's mission is a little farther than usual, so we'll probably be back late! what would you like me to bring back for you?" 

hypoxia crushes your lungs, your blood burns. selfish selfish selfish. you've only ever cared about yourself.

suguru's arm curls around your shoulder before you even realize you're crying. his palm is warm as it smooths over your hair, and all you can worry about tainting him with your ridiculous tears.

you don't ever want to burden him—just want to quietly live in his shadow.

"i don't—" you internally cringe at the throaty rasp of your voice, swiping a hand at your nose. "i shouldn't be so sensitive about—"

"it's not your fault." he quietly hushes you, grip tightening imperceptibly. through your tears you can see him adam's apple bob, and for some reason that makes you feel worse. you're too scared to look at his expression, even though his voice is resolute. "none of this is our fault."

something has changed in the way he speaks now. something has settled, a confirmation of some idea that has been brewing for a long time now.

you don't say another word, but somehow he manages to sear himself into your very being. he's warm, and fuzzy, and he smells like sandalwood and incense. 

you don't know how long suguru let's you pathetically sob into his shoulder.

but you think you're embarrassed that he has taken pity on a wounded animal's cries.

xii. split

he looks different, but also the same. you've seen him wear that sweater before. it's plain black, no patterns, and you know that there's a loose string on the inside of the left sleeve that he was always too lazy to cut. you've always liked that sweater—always liked the way he looked in it. 

you liked it so much that you've even stolen it a few times yourself. 

but now it looks different. older and dirtier—as though soiled by some unknown curse. 

that's what everything came down to, right? curses. 

suguru stands in front of you, almost no trace of emotion on his handsome face, and his expression makes you want to turn and run. you miss the calm serenity that normally graced his features, wishing that you had some kind of cursed technique that could turn back time. but you aren't blessed like that—you wonder what sin you might've committed in a past life that made you so unlucky in this one. 

"you look confused," he comments. you reel at how casually he speaks to you, like it's just another afternoon sitting under that stupid tree. like he's leaning his head back against the trunk and watching you and satoru bicker with that fond look in his eye. 

"suguru," you speak, an odd strain in your voice. you struggle to comprehend this odd turn of events. you've had time to understand that he's now a different person than the one you once knew. you know that he's responsible for killing 112 innocents, including his own parents. you know that he's now an enemy to jujutsu society and you know that you should kill him right at this moment.

but he looks so much like suguru, like your suguru, that you can only manage to stand there, frozen in place. his eyes drift over your body, taking in your pajamas, the bath towel in your hands, and the small drops that trickle from your hair, and you can see the familiarity settle in his expression. 

"why are you here?" you choke out. you feel an overwhelming sense of danger in your gut, knowing that your family is just a few rooms over from where he stands now. 

"at your family home, you mean?" he asks casually. a small, almost amused smirk appears on his face. "you said i was always welcome." 

you did say that. sometime last year or the year before, when you had invited satoru, suguru, and shoko over to visit during one of your quick holidays. suguru had sat across from you at your dinner table. he complimented the food and your father smiled one of his rare smiles. you had chewed quietly to hide your grin.

you don't know what to say to him now. 

"everything they said about you," you whisper, taking a step toward him. he remains rooted in place, but his eyes follow your movements. they shift when he catches your fingers gripping your towel tighter. "is it true?" 

"do you think it is?" he asks, and you gulp. it feels like he's baiting you into some kind of trap. 

"i don't want to believe that it is," you answer, voice shaking. "that you would ever do something so…"

the sentence hangs in the air, and he tilts his head imperceptibly. something in his eyes changes as he focuses on the drops falling over your shoulders. 

"well i'm sorry to squash your hope," he raises his arms in a shrug. "but everything you heard is completely true." 

your head aches, but you're not surprised by his confirmation. "why would you…?"

suguru hums, a dark look falling over his face. "do you remember the conversation we had after haibara's funeral? do you remember what i told you when he died?" 

anger flares in your gut at the mention of haibara, and the bath towel crumples in your hold. "don't say his name," you hiss through gritted teeth. "don't act like he's the reason—just…don't bring him into this. please." 

suguru licks his lips, eyes going soft before he tries again. 

"everything used to make sense back then," he sighs. "back when the strong existed to protect the weak. but it's not true." 

"suguru—" 

"the reason why we suffer is because of them," he interjects evenly, though frustration is clearly evident in the curve of his brows and the volume of his voice. "we clean up their messes. they create problems and we die for it." 

you're stunned into silence, at the way he's raising his voice at you, at the way he's speaking so firmly about this horrible topic, at everything. he seems to realize the effect of his speech, and he quells his anger to speak quieter. "that's why i'm doing this. i'm going to create a world without non-sorcerers, so that sorcerers like you and i can live peacefully." 

a lump forms in your throat because god, he's right. he's so right. your life would be a thousand times better without curses. non-sorcerers were the reason curses existed. but the way he's going about this…

"suguru," your voice shakes, but you press on. "i get it. i really do—" 

"i know you do," he interrupts. "you always have. even back then…" 

he takes a step closer to you, reaching out to finger the towel in your hands. "but you don't agree with the way i'm doing it, right?" 

you bite your lip, and he smiles at the sadness in your expression. "you're so easy to read, hotshot." 

you ignore the way the nickname stings. "i just—how could you kill innocent people like that? your own parents, suguru."

he looks away from you, steely resolve in his eyes. "if i made exceptions for my parents, that would kinda make me a hypocrite, wouldn't it?"  

you don't know what to say to that. he doesn't seem to have anything else to add either. 

he looks around your old bedroom, eyes sparkling as they catch a picture of the four of you from your first year. satoru's arm is slung around shoko. the dark-haired female has her elbow resting on your shoulder, her tongue sticking out playfully. you're clinging to suguru's arm, and satoru's free hand is squishing your cheeks together. the four of you are laughing. 

nobody has laughed in a while now. 

you tear your gaze away from the picture frame to look at him. he's so unbelievably close, and he's gazing down at you with this foreign look in his eyes, the picture forgotten behind him. 

he slips his fingers into your hair. his palm is large enough that it can brush the side of your face, and you wonder why your body doesn't flinch away from those bloodstained hands.

"it's okay," he mumbles, a faraway look in his eyes. they remain trained on your hair, but it feels like he's looking straight through you. like you're nothing more than a ghost he wants to erase. he's so close—you can count his dark lashes as they brush against his cheeks. "it's difficult. i don't expect you to understand." 

his words incite a sudden flare of anger in your gut. it burns something fierce, and in that moment you hate him. 

"no, i don't," you reply indignantly. he pauses, now really looking at you, and his brows quirk upward in what seems to be surprise, because—well, he's never seen you make such an expression at him before. "you never tried to help me understand. you just left." 

a strained silence follows. his fingers twitch against your cheek.

"this doesn't concern you," he says finally. "i don't need you to understand my actions." 

you recoil, as though he's physically hurt you, and your expression falls so hard that it almost makes him regret saying it. almost. 

"if it doesn't concern me, then why are you here?" you ask again, and you see suguru's shoulders drop. "you know that i have orders to kill you. i might not be able to because you've always been stronger than me. but you know that i'll…" 

go down fighting you, is what you want to say, but the words leave a nasty taste in your mouth. but suguru seems to know what you're implying because a wry smile appears on his lips. his fingers twirl a strand of your wet hair. 

"i'm here to say goodbye," he says finally. another tense silence fills the space between you both, and suguru can see the way your fingers shake between the folds of your towel. 

"you're a little bit late for that, aren't you?" you choke out, a strange tilt to your voice as you break eye contact with him. "you left school weeks ago, and you didn't say a word to me then." 

"better late than never, right?" 

the softness in his tone makes you turn to look at him again, and you desperately want to ingrain the features of his face into your head. the gentle slope of his eyes and sweetness of his smile. he almost looks like the suguru you once knew, and you suddenly have the urge to mourn his death. 

his face becomes blurry, the edges becoming less pronounced, and you can see the way his expression falls. 

"i didn't come all the way here to make you cry." his hand drops from your face and he takes a step back. your fingers hurry to wipe at your waterline, and you shake your head. 

"'m not crying." 

suguru smiles ruefully, and his eyes suddenly look devoid of life. he takes another step back—your heart plummets.

he says your name once, quietly, and it hangs in the air as you wait for him to say more. 

he doesn't. 

"you know that I'm not supposed to let you leave alive, right?" you mumble, fingers toying with the towel in your hand. "but i can't—i mean—"

"hm," he chuckles. "still as sensitive as ever, huh? s'okay…" 

he moves toward you again and his hand gently cups the back of your neck. "i think it's your best quality. makes you better than most people in our world."

he presses his lips to your forehead tenderly, and you feel your eyes widen behind your tears. 

you probably could've stopped him, because you're aware that he's now suddenly behind you, and that he's raising his hand. you can stop him, but a part of you thinks that if it's death at suguru's hands, maybe it's not such a bad way to go. 

you accept your fate then and there. 

you'll find out later that suguru never had the intention to kill you then. perhaps he was waiting for a more opportune time, waiting for there to be a meaning behind it. you're not sure. but when you wake up tucked in your bed cozily, you'll feel the remnants of him lingering around you.

he was warm, and fuzzy, and he smelled like sandalwood and incense.

xiii. sanctify

satoru's at your door again. 

you've memorized his knock patterns. he always knocks three times, then leaves a pause, then twice more. for someone so erratic, he can be quite predictable. 

"what's up, satoru?" you call out, not looking up from your busy hands. there are a couple of empty cardboard boxes open on your bed, and you've been placing things into them all morning. things that should've been put away a long time ago. you pause on one of your old test papers, and in suguru's dark, blocky handwriting you read: 

YOU GOTTA STUDY MORE DUMBASS.

underneath it, satoru had scrawled: 

hotshot failing class now huh? :P

and shoko had added: 

both of you stfu you're failing too 

you had drawn a heart next to her name. 

"whatcha doin'?" a familiar voice chirps. "spring cleaning?"

satoru stands directly behind you, peering over your shoulder. you can practically feel his aura shift when he notices the items you're putting away. 

"cleaning of some sort," you sigh, before turning to look over your shoulder. "i've been…putting it off." 

he doesn't move—just continues to stare down at the paper in your hands. you think maybe you shouldn't have let him in. sometimes you forget that satoru might have his own sensitivities—you've always viewed him as the strongest.

a few strands of his hair tickle your cheek, and you scrunch your nose in response. he then turns to you, eyes blinding as he studies you over the frames of his shades. 

"want help?" 

"please." you don't intend to sound so needy, but the way you whisper the word has him immediately grabbing your wrist and sitting you down next to him on the bed. 

"how are we sorting this stuff?" he asks, his voice oddly calm. he hasn't let go of your arm yet, and some quiet part of you is grateful. 

"i was putting our old school stuff in that box. books, papers…" you answer softly, and satoru nods in understanding. "and in the other box…" 

you inhale deeply through your nose. satoru waits, strangely patient. you're not sure if you're imagining it, but you think he squeezes your wrist. 

"…are all of suguru's things." 

there's a moment of silence—a quick mourning for what is no longer there. 

"it's stupid stuff that he left behind, you know?" you chuckle, even though nothing is funny. "some old shirts from when you two would sleep over, his old textbooks, a few pictures from our holidays—shit like that." 

satoru hums. he's not looking at you—instead he's staring at the box, a frown on his face. 

"i guess he didn't really need those things for where he was going. or for wherever he is now," you mumble. 

"guess not." 

you're not sure what's going through his head. satoru's reaction to suguru leaving had been chaotic at best. it was so hard to tell how he felt about it. you knew he was angry, confused, betrayed. but he never showed things like that. you think it might have to do with being the strongest. you're not sure though—you never were strong like him.

you wish there was a way to tell him that he could share his feelings with you, but you can't think of a way that won't be awkward. 

a ticklish sensation crawls up your wrist and you look down to watch satoru's first two fingers tap against the inside of your palm. his thumb brushes against yours as he lets out a heavy exhale. 

"let's get started then, hotshot." 

he looks down at you as he says the words, and you think you might cry. but you want to be strong, like him, so you offer him a smile. he gives you one in return. you realize there isn't that much warmth in it, not like it used to have—you're sure that yours isn't that warm either. 

but it's enough for the two of you. 

"you look tired, toru," you chuckle wryly, reaching up to brush a few strands of hair from his face. his eyes flutter at the touch, and you honestly think this might be the most vulnerable you've ever seen him. 

"so do you." 

"i am," you admit honestly. 

"'s okay," he mumbles. his fingers tap against your palm once more. "'m here." 

"i know," you answer. you always are.

nothing more is said as satoru stands up. he makes his way over to your desk and pulls one of suguru's old sweaters from your chair. you watch him fold it neatly, smoothing out the creases with care, before placing it into the box—you smile once more. 

you think the scent of sandalwood tickles your nose, but it's gone in an instant.  

both of you work in relative silence, sorting through the things in your room quickly. you're surprised at how bare it looks as you're nearing the end, as though there's nothing more to your life than old high school recollections. 

you finish putting the last few polaroids into the box when satoru speaks up. 

"hey." 

you look up and find him staring at you, so you turn to face him completely, giving him your full attention. 

"zenin toji—" the name sends a painful tingle up your body. "—left something behind." 

you frown. "what are you talking about?" 

"a kid. he's got a kid. and i was gonna go meet him today," satoru shrugs. you try to read his emotions, but as usual, he's giving you nothing. "the old man said something about the zenin clan buying up his kid before i killed him. i was gonna go see if there's something i could do about that." 

you sigh before raising a brow, an amused lilt to your voice. "and why have you kept this a secret?" 

satoru's trademark smirk appears, and he walks over to sling an arm around your shoulders. "who knows?" he quips nonchalantly. "guess i was waiting until we were bored. we need something to do now, don't we?" 

you glance at the packed boxes on your bed, and then look around your empty room. everything is always changing, but satoru is constant. 

"i guess so," you grin. his eyes shine, and for a second you see a familiar teenager at the beach, and then a familiar teenager under an old tree. you think you hear waves, and the crinkling of a bag of chips. 

"good," he chirps, walking you to the door, the arm around your shoulder secure. "his name's megumi, and we're gonna make sure he gets strong."

xiv. idyll

it takes you a little over four months to get used to megumi's eyes. they aren't unsettling or invading, like a certain snowy haired sorcerer, but they do give you chills when you first notice them. chills and a fleeting feeling of metal slicing up and down through your flesh. you just have to steady your breathing and remind yourself that the son is not the father.

tsumiki is an angel. you didn't think that kids that age could be so emotionally competent, but she's a pleasant surprise. she had been awfully protective over megumi, fidgeting with a firm hand on his shoulder as you and satoru invaded their space and upturned their lives. even after they had settled into the humble apartment satoru had purchased, tsumiki was still so overly cautious. it was obvious she still didn't trust either of you, but you thought it was admirable of her, and you relay this thought to satoru one day.

"think they hate us?" he asks, squishing his cheeks between his lithe fingers as he eyes the different milk cartons over the rims of his glasses.

"i'm pretty sure they just don't trust us that much," you reply, placing a few packs of instant ramen into the cart. "can you blame them? we're just random strangers who came up and basically kidnapped them."

"i'd like to say adopted!" he points out with a grin, before he sighs. "but we've already proved we're just doing this to help them. but they still barely talk at all."

"they're just being careful. megumi's still a little young and he looks like he doesn't give a shit about most stuff anyway," you chuckle as you remember the expression on the first grader's face as he spoke to your cocky friend. "and tsumiki's being cautious for both of them."

"she doesn't need to be cautious of us!" satoru dramatically whines, pulling out a carton of whole milk and placing it into the cart. you shiver as the cold air hits your skin, eyeing the sorcerer with an exasperated smile. he shuts the door with a huff. "i've been such a good dad!"

you roll your eyes, shoving his arm as he starts pushing the cart down the aisle. "she definitely should be cautious of you, you creep."

satoru looks down over his shoulder, appalled, though his eyes sparkle with mirth. "and why do you say that?"

"have you seen yourself? crazy 19 year old man that kidnaps kids," you mutter somewhat sarcastically, falling into step with him like it's normal. satoru grins at that—amused.

"i think it's pretty cool of her to be that responsible though," you continue, voice going softer as you think about them, and satoru hums in what you think might be agreement. you suddenly grab his arm, stopping him in his tracks and he turns to look at you.

"you think we should get another carton of milk?" you question, tilting your head at him. "megumi's been drinking it every day after he comes back from school and tsumiki said she wanted to try making milkshakes."

satoru blinks at you, eyes widening before an amused chuckle escapes his lips. you're about to ask what is so funny but he gestures back down the aisle. "go get some."

he waits for you as you go grab another carton, leaning against the cart easily. when you make it back and place the extra milk in the cart, satoru slings an arm around your shoulders. you raise a brow, but he just continues to push the cart with his free hand and says nothing.

so you don't say anything either.

the two of you continue shopping, trying to remember the things you've noticed the kids enjoying because you know they'll be too uncomfortable to outrightly request them. for every sweet snack satoru puts into the cart, you add something that can pass as somewhat healthy, and he hides a teasing grin behind his fist each time.

when you're almost done, satoru motions to the shelves of snacks, raising a brow at you. "what do you need, hotshot?"

you look up from where you're analyzing the contents of the cart. "hm? oh i don't wanna buy anything for myself. i'm good with the stuff i have back at the dorm."

"great," he shrugs with a subtle shake of his head. "except you're not buying anything this time, i am. so pick something."

"what?" you frown, walking over to him. "we're supposed to split groceries for the kids."

"we can split next time." satoru rolls his eyes at you, as though annoyed by your insistence. "i just got paid yesterday and i wanna waste money. pick something."

you groan. "but there really isn't anything i want. if you're gonna pay yourself then let's just go. i think this is good enough."

satoru looks unamused, his eyes boring into yours—bright, dominating, mesmerizing. "oh really? nothing you want?"

you stare at him in confusion as he walks over to the frozen section and opens the door. after a few seconds of rummaging, he pulls out a box. "not even this?"

your shoulders drop. he's holding a tub of strawberry ice cream.

he casually places it into the cart, eyes trained on your expression as he bends down. "it's your favorite, isn't it?"

your voice comes out throaty, and you wet your lips nervously—his eyes follow the movement at lightning speed. "how'd you know?"

satoru scoffs out a haughty chuckle, reaching up to knock a knuckle at your forehead—it's cold. "i know everything about you, hotshot."

he moves to grip at the cart's handle, standing close enough that you can feel the energy radiating off of him. the side of his hand touches yours, still cold. "now we can go."

he sticks by your side, pushing the cart towards the counters as he casually looks around the store. you briefly realize that his shadow doesn't cover you when you're at his side like this. the thought both scares you and pleases you in a way you didn't think was possible.

"thanks toru," you mumble before you can stop yourself. his gives you a sidelong glance—assessing.

his lips twitch. "it's just ice cream."

"no, it's a lot more than that." you're not really sure why you say it so tragically, and satoru inhales sharply. you notice that his knuckles have turned white as he grips the cart's handles. once again, his eyes dart rapidly over your face—between your eyes and then further down.

then he lets out a hushed laugh, nudging your shoulder with his. "as long as you share with me, hotshot."

everything is always changing, but satoru is constant.

you can't help but smile. "always."

you two don't say much as you head to the counter, taking turns placing all the items on the belt. you quietly watch satoru dig into his wallet, feeling oddly content doing so. you think the stars in your eyes will never disappear.

the clerk eyes you both, and suppresses a fond grin. with your close proximity, shared cart, and satoru's easy going smile, you realize that she's probably misunderstanding, but you don't really know how to correct her. satoru says nothing—he just continues smiling, oddly pleased.

he smiles all the way to the car. you catch yourself doing the same in the rear view mirror.

xv. retribution

the first thing you notice when you kneel in front of suguru is that he's bleeding all over the place. you have the strongest urge to scramble and grip his fingers tightly, just as he had done for you so many years ago—but you don't dare. you're too scared that touching him will ruin you completely.

he says your name quietly, and yet it's the loudest thing in the universe to you—crashing over your ears until you've lost all sense of self.

and then he leans forward, his gaze heavy, and his hand comes up to tangle in your hair. his palm rests on the side of your face just like it did when he visited you at your family home. the last time you saw your geto suguru.

except this time he moves further—crosses a line. presses his lips to yours.

he tastes like blood. you don't pull away.

the feeling of his lips shocks you though, and you stay permanently frozen in place as you feel your eyes glaze over with something you can't put into words.

suguru kisses you slowly, deeply, like he's been waiting but wants to savor it. maybe you've been waiting too. you're not sure. you're so confused.

you don't even process the way his tongue slips past your lips, tasting almost eagerly like your mouth is some kind of conquest he's trying to claim.

it's intrusive, but not unwelcome. slow, but not gentle.

you whimper quietly, feeling acid sting down your cheek as he pulls away and his eyes flutter open. he takes in your expression, and a million emotions pass over his face.

a quiet chuckle. "that bad, huh?"

you shake yourself out of it and try to push away the flush creeping up your neck. "w-what?"

"you're crying," he announces, his furrowed eyebrows paired with a sweet smile that makes him look so unbelievably tragic. "the kiss was that bad?"

your face burns, and you raise a shaking hand up to your cheek—it's wet.

"it wasn't—i didn't—" you struggle. "i mean—"

he smiles ruefully. "i'm sorry. you were saving it for someone special, right?"

there's a charged silence that follows as you scour your brain for the conversation he's referencing. when you find it, your heart sinks.

"you've always been special to me, suguru." your voice comes out quiet, but he hears it all the same. his eyes widen fractionally and you can see a light pink dust his cheeks before he laughs. it's soft, hushed, and looks like it's painful, but he lets it run its course.

it reminds you of a laugh from so long ago, at a beach, with childish screams echoing against the sound of waves. you think you can feel strawberry ice cream dripping down your wrist.

his laughs die down and he's left smiling softly at you. his lavender eyes sparkle with mirth as he tilts his head. "i'm glad. that you were the one i gave a room to."

you can hear waves in your ears, crashing crashing drowning. sand is in your hands, in between your toes, in your eyes.

he coughs, and his palm shakes against your cheek. you wonder why he doesn't just let go already dammit suguru.

you inhale sharply, trying so hard to breathe because what is that stupid thing that's clogging your throat and preventing you from speaking? there's so much you have to say to him. so many questions. so many things left unsaid. your words are failing you.

but silence with suguru has never once been uncomfortable, right?

you raise a shaky hand to press against his where it lays against your neck. "do you regret it?"

he licks his lips, smiling faintly, as though he's enjoying the new taste of you on them. "no."

"why not?" you whisper. your body unconsciously shuffles closer to him, chasing his warmth because gods is he warm. he's always been so warm, even now, in the throes of death.

"my feelings are still the same. i still hate the monkeys for everything they've done, all the crap they cause." he shuts his eyes, smiling that serene smile. you wish he was leaning against a tree trunk. "i still have no resentment to those at jujutsu tech. and you, i still…"

he doesn't continue. you don't think you want him to. there's a flush crawling up his neck, the faint pink a stark contrast to the red of blood. it makes you nauseous.

another deep inhale, and his thumb slides over your jawbone, before brushing under your bottom lip. he stares at the flesh heavily, letting his finger press into it. his tongue swipes over his own lips, eyes darkening further.

and then something shifts in his face, and he smiles mirthlessly. his hand drops from your face—broken contact.

he doesn't tear his gaze away from you, committing your face to memory. it's almost like he wants to say something, but decides against it at the last minute as he slumps further into the wall behind him and shuts his eyes.

when he speaks again, you know that it is all over.

"you're late, satoru."

[alyssumlovesthecosmere]

So, the other day, Crash Course uploaded a video in their Religions series, about Judaism. Now, I haven't watched any video other than this one, but if this one is any metric to measure by.... well, it's bad. Really bad.

To start, the introduction starts with "shabbat toothbrushes", where John Green describes to us how (some) jews will brush their teeth on shabbat, while ensuring to not break any of the melachot, or prohibited actions. This, in my opinion, as an orthodox jew, is.... quite a framing to start with. Especially since immediately after that introduction, John Green let's us know that there are other jews! who don't do this! and just... sir, I'm an orthodox jew. Sure, I don't do follow that rule on the shabbat- sorry, the sabbath which you then explain is the shabbat to jews (the word Sabbath comes from the hebrew Shabbat), but I follow a lot of rules that folks find strange! And I do not appreciate a video talking about jews sidelining orthodox jews. Framing the video in that way is clearly an attempt to make Jews seem more "mainstream", but it erases, estranges, and (this happens more later on) villifies orthodox jews. Which isn't fair.

But we just started this 13 minute video. At this point last night, I sighed and figured this was going to be just your regular old "Orthodox Jews are strange and bad" sort of video, and resigned myself to that. And then I looked at the sections of the video. One of which included Zionism in it. And I immediately got more worried, because John and Hank donated through Project For Awesome to UNWRA which are.... very linked to Hamas, including there being evidence of UNWRA employees participating in the Oct. 7th Massacre. But okay. Maybe this video will be fine.

Spoiler alert: It wasn't. It was so incredibly bad. John Green admits at the start of the video that Judaism is complex, great! Now explain tha complexity correctly! no. So he starts off his history with... Ya'akov Avinu, sorry- Jacob. Who's a descendant of Avraham Avinu, sorry- Abraham (John uses the english names and not the hebrew one and it just bothers me). Which like... no, Jewish history starts with Eretz Yisrael, the land of Israel. In addition, a large majority of his sources are non jewish sources which is just. Why. There are so many jewish sources on Judaism!

As this is getting long, I'm gonna put a tl;dr here and then a read more cut. The tl;dr is this - the video is a horrendously western view of Judaism video, that seems to be written by non-jews who don't have any expertise in Judaism. It is filled with misrepresentation of jews, especially religious ones, is severely lacking pretty much all of jewish history, doesn't mention MENA/SWANA jews at all, and is quite frankly a disappointment. I'm mad and sad and upset and most of all disappointed with crash course for creating this video.

Still with me? great. I'm wordy and I have twelve minutes of this video to go through still. To make this a bit more organized, I'm gonna go according to the sections that John Green himself gave, and give a summary of what he said and what is wrong or misrepresented there.

The Many Versions of Judaism (aka, somehow not our history nor our story) there are a few things wrong/upsetting here. First off, as I said above, the fact that he uses the English names. Second off, the fact that he, bafflingly, starts the story with Ya'akov getting the name Yisrael, aka when Ya'akov fights with the angel. John then takes this to explain that Jews today still wrestle with Hashem in our own way, but in a... shall I say tumblr style reductionist way. Y'know, the "jews shake lemon at gd angrily behind a denny's" way. This chapter is the only one that will ever mention the ancient Israelites, and never the tie to the land of Israel itself. In addition to this, he describes Judaism as monotheistic, but that "half of religious jews today believe in some other spiritual force, and not the gd of the Hebrew Bible" which had me going what in the what. Just. No. like, sure, i'm a vaguely agnostic-atheist religious jew and uh, no? And I found his source, and well, if I had to guess - the jews who responded assumed that the god they were being asked about was the one in the xtian bible - and so answered no, while John assumed said jews meant the gd of the tanakh, aka hashem. Third, his "devil's advocate" scene is just. Once again, putting down Orthodox Jews, and compares without change Jewish Religious Institutions with Xtian ones. To quote "for a lot of jews, it's more about action than faith", I'd argue, personally, that that line is correct for most jews, as our religion is not really one of belief (orthodoxy) but of action (orthopraxy). And also, I'll paraphrase "many jewish people consider following Jewish law to be the most important thing" yes! yes we do! and not just many, most, that's! the whole! shtick! for us!! (and yes i'm aware this is a simplification). He also manages to vaguely describe Judaism as an ethnicity, and explain that some Jews are connected to the ancestral history (without explaining what that is, no connection to Israel here no sirree), which I guess is fine-ish? (it does not)

The Written Torah So here he starts off with saying that we'll focus on the torah and not the tanakh, as the torah is how we jews conceptualize our relationship to gd and each other. Except that... we also use the rest of the Tanakh for that! (minor kudos to him for saying that the tanakh was written by the ancient israelites. Just no mention of why there were ancient israelites and then we had to come back). The torah gives us most of our rules, but the tanakh expands on them, and teaches us how we choose to treat hashem, how we treat each other. When Jews say the written torah, we do oftentimes also mean the rest of the tanakh. Frankly, going through his sources, I can't figure out what source he used for this claim, except that he uses a lot of non-jewish sources (like the britannica), and very few Jewish ones which is just... why, you can clearly see these jewish sources exist, why not use them? I understand that this is meant to be lighthearted, but he compares the five books of the torah to seasons of friends, which is kinda eeeh. And added to that, his descriptor for bamidbar or numbers is "the ancient israelites wander and suffer through the wilderness" (paraphrased). First off, it was the desert, and second off this is exactly where in the torah we get all of the mitzvot and how to treat each other and hashem. This is it!! why name the book/"season" wrong?? He then continues and talks about how the themes of exile and return are common in the torah, and continue to resonate today, and yet doesn't... explain... the history of us being exiled. Instead, we take a tangent into antisemitism, specifically the plague related kind. Which... fine, I know he's got a liking for that aspect of history, but there's so much more. Of course, he also mentions that the Pope was one of the influential people who pushed back against it and... just... sigh. We're talking the catholic church here. The same catholic church WHO BLAMED JEWS FOR KILLING JESUS TILL THE NINETEEN SIXTIES. If the pope pushed back against it, it was because us jews had more value alive, not because he thought we had inherent value as people. Of course, since we're talking antisemitism, John only talks about xtian antisemitism. The "happy dhimmi" myth is alive and kicking in this video, as there is absolutely no mention of antisemitism within the non-western world. IN ADDITION, by framing the antisemitism the way he did - that the "dumb europeans" attacked the jews but their religious leaders were against it, John inadvertently erases antisemitism by non religious people, and by religious leaders. Both of which are and were alive and well.

Zionism (aka, I had to put this in here otherwise the tankies would yell at me, and I made a mess of it) And then we have this digression, which makes zero sense in the context of the story John is attempting to tell, into Zionism. There is no reason for it, and if it had to be in the video, it should have, quite frankly, gone in at the end. But that is only the start of the woes that I have to say on this section. To start, the amount of sources here are negligeble as compared to the other sections (note the numbers, all previous sources were for the other two sections)

48. Encyclopaedia Britannica | Zionism 49. University of Michigan | Zionism  50. Ben-Israel, Hedva. “Zionism and European Nationalisms: Comparative Aspects.” Israel Studies 8, no. 1 (2003): 91–104. 51. Ghanem, As’ad. “Israel’s Second-Class Citizens: Arabs in Israel and the Struggle for Equal Rights.” Foreign Affairs 95, no. 4 (2016): 37–42. 52. Halpern, Ben (2004) [1990]. "The Rise and Reception of Zionism in the Nineteenth Century". In Goldscheider, Calvin; Neusner, Jacob (eds.). Social Foundations of Judaism (2nd ed.). Eugene, Or: Wipf and Stock Publ. pp. 94–113. 53. American-Israeli Cooperative Enterprise| Zionism: Anti-Zionism Among Jews

[copied from the source sheet]

I haven't read the sources, so I'm not going to talk about them, but the fact that only half of the sources seem to have been written by jews is... not great. At all. And then there's how John introduces and talks about the topic. John compares the themes of exile and return in the Torah and Tanakh to the narrative told by Zionists, and mentions Zionism being a political movement. All of this is correct. However, what John is very obviously missing here is the history of Jews within the land of Israel. He talks about how we wanted a state for Jews run by Jews, but doesn't explain that we wanted it in the land where we came from, a land where we have mitzvot, commandments, that are specific to it. A land that our holidays and calendar center. The fact that this is missing is one of the glaring issues in the whole video. He also mentions that Zionism views Judaism as a nationality, which is true. Judaism is viewed as a nationality in the modern sense through Zionism, but it's also a nationality, or nation, in the older sense, regardless of Zionism. In addition to that, while Zionism is the idea of having a Jewish run state for Jews, it does not preclude the existence of other, nonjewish, people in this state. Which is important for the next bit. He then adds that, quote "this is complicated for lots of geopolitical reasons, but suffice it to say, Jewish people are not the only people with roots or a current presence in the modern state of Israel." Which, I guess does mention our roots in the land, but it also completely flattens the whole story into, what feels to me, "Jews Zionists bad for wanting a state because there are other people". He then mentions the Druze and Xtian and Muslim Palestinians, which is fair but also why specifically the Druze? And if the Druze, why not also the Bedouin? Both are minority groups within Israel, and if you want to talk about minority groups, the Bedouin are equally as important for this discussion! (another friend later pointed out that the likely reason is that the pbs source John uses mentions the Druze (but as muslims, and not as their own religious group which. sigh. Druze are not Muslim), but not the Bedouin. And of course, we get a "not all jews support the zionist movement, but many do" yeah. a huge womping majority. For a reason. At the end of this section he says you can find "much much more" on the topic in the sources and I just have to raise an eyebrow, because I do not count these 6 sources as "much much more" information.

Then, finally, we're off of this ill-placed and wrongly done section, and back to actual religion things. You know. Like how John had said we'd be talking about.

The Oral Torah and the Talmud We start off strong, with an accurate description as to what exactly is the Oral Torah, and what its place within Jewish society and Judaism is. And then... John tells us that there are "two guys who started it". Huh? Who? Hillel and Shammai of course! what. so, to explain to all of you who have somehow read till here and don't know, Hillel and Shammai are just one pair in a long lineage of those who were, according to tradition, in charge of the oral torah. Even more so, they weren't the first in their generation of pairs! (this is the time known as the Zugot, or pairs). Hillel and Shammai are the seventh generation in those who lived during the time of the mishna being slowly worked on and getting codified, and Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi was the one who did all of the codification, FIVE GENERATIONS AND A TEMPLE COLLAPSE AFTER THEM. So I chose to go into the sources to figure this one out, because frankly I'm baffled. And as far as I can tell, this comes from the encyclopedia britannica (again, why) saying that Hillel and Shammai were the last of the Zugot and that they taught the Tanaim (those who ended up writing the mishna), but just. What. Why. John then continues on to explain who Hillel and Shammai are, describing them as "Shammai, the rules are rules type" and "Hillel, the gentle, caring, impossible to anger type". I just- again with the putting down of one side (the stricter side) for the not so strict side. In addition to the fact that that isn't even an accurate description. It would be more accurate to describe the divide and debate between Hillel and Shammai as realistic and unrealistic. Hillel's school of thought, also known as Beit Hillel, worked with and around torah with the understanding that those who will be following it are people, and will make mistakes and need leniency. Shammai's school of thought, known as Beit Shammai, on the other hand, wanted people to strive to following the Torah in the most idealistic way. We follow Beit Hillel nowadays because they were better at taking day-to-day realities into account, but we remember Beit Shammai's halacha because we want to be able to fulfill our mitzvot in that way, and if human life didn't get in the way, we would do so. John Green stop putting those who keep stricter (or more idealistic) halacha as "bad" challange: level impossible. John Green then says, as is correct, that at around 200ce we started writing things down, but once again, he neglects to mention why we felt we needed to shift from oral to written (the answer is the Romans wanted us no longer jewish and we had lost our Temple and were going to be expelled from our holy land again, see, that's two sentences, is that so hard to say?) John Green then correctly explains that they way the Talmud was written down was by layers upon layers, "literally circling each other" however, that's only one portion of the halachic debate, and frankly, the Talmud is definitely not the central rabbinic text today. That's the Shulchan Aruch, which is based off of the Talmud, but collates all of Halachic debate into a masterpiece of a lot of books. It, too, has the layers upon layers thing, because why waste good paper space??? There are more mistakes here, in understanding that the Talmud is The Central Halachic thing, which again - look above I corrected it. I'll also happily admit that he's correct in saying that when we refer to the torah we mean both the written and oral ones. But we still have two sections to go, and I am still as wordy as ever.

Branches of Judaism Here is where I started to go from mildly annoyed at how he treats orthodox jews, to flat out mad. See, instead of explaining the differences between branches in a neutral way, John brings up differences that will make people feel things. He gives examples of questions - can women be rabbis - which will have listeners biased towards those communities that allow it (and yes, it is an issue within orthodox communities, but guess what! these communities are also trying to work within their framework of halacha for women's equality), or "can you push an elevator button on shabbat using electricity when the law says to refrain from creating fires and sparks on that day", which is an extreme oversimplification of the whole argument and discussion about electricity on shabbat, which will lead viewers to, once again, view those who do those things as backward, strange, and weird. And trust me, there are so many other halachic questions that can be used (such as can one heat food on shabbat, considering fire and heat, or how you deal with the dietary laws of kashrut), and idk. Maybe at this point I'm nitpicking, but as an orthodox not exactly a woman, it bothers me! It alienates me from the discussion, and it's really frustrating. He comments that the options you can choose are "unwavering, flexible, or somewhere in between", which to me shows a complete lack of understanding of what the orthodox framework of working with halacha is (too long; don't have time to explain - we can't strictly disagree with stuff but we can slowly push for change that may eventually end up disagreeing with something or another). He then explains Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform Judaism. His way of explaining is, while technically correct, missing an understanding of how we different streams of Judaism practice. John describes the differences as ones of strictness vs openness, lack of change vs flexibility. In reality, the difference between the streams is one of precedence. How much weight do we put on something that was written 2000 years ago? How much weight does our current way of living have? Orthodox Judaism will answer that what was written all that time ago has significantly more weight, that they knew more about halacha than we do, to Reform halacha, which takes halachic rulings from 2000 years ago under advisement, but sees how much the world has changed, and makes the rulings accordingly. I won't touch on his specific examples, and suffice it to say that they were in line with what I said earlier about his examples. They're there to make you feel something about these strange jews he's talking about, and that something is not always particularly nice, especially to Orthodox Jews. He then mentions a few other options, which is fine (though I wish he expanded on the "people who say 'I'm Jewish' but don't identify with any particular branch" as, with everything going on, and his sorely lacking explanation in how Judaism and conversion works, may lead to people deciding to just say they're jewish). After that he says that there "are jewish atheists". Yes. There are also orthodox jewish atheists, I thought we covered the fact that Judaism prefers action over belief at the start? I'm confused as to why he felt the need to add that here near the end of the video.

Next, he talks about the different physical branches of Judaism, and mentions that due to persecution we got to many different places. Of course, he once again neglects to mention the ur-persecution, or ur-reason that we are so spread out - our expulsion from Israel, and the beginning of the Jewish Diaspora (he mentions the Diaspora by name, but not the first reason for it). It's a glaring miss, but not as glaring as what is to come. He then talks about three diasporic communities, and I quote "...unique communities emerged in each new location: Ashkenazi Jews in Eastern Europe, Sephardic Jews in Spain and Portugal, and Beta Israel in Eithiopia". One nitpick and one incredibly important correction. Ashkenazi Jews were originally from ashkenaz, ie France and Germany and eventually got to Eastern Europe as well - the name of the general European tradition is, however, Ashkenaz. The second, and more pressing issue, is that he says that Sephardic Jews are in Spain and Portugal. Those communities haven't been there in a Hot Minute, ie since the Spanish Inquistion. They've been in the SWANA or MENA region, with some exceptions for some Dutch, American, and British Jews. I had to look at his sources, because are you kidding me. Both (all three, if we include Beta Israel) sources are from britannica. Again. My first instinct was that maybe the issue was with the source! I was wrong.

The source for Ashkenazi Judaism (emphasis mine)

Ashkenazi, member of the Jews who lived in the Rhineland valley and in neighbouring France before their migration eastward to Slavic lands (e.g., Poland, Lithuania, Russia) after the Crusades (11th–13th century) and their descendants. After the 17th-century persecutions in eastern Europe, large numbers of these Jews resettled in western Europe, where they assimilated, as they had done in eastern Europe, with other Jewish communities. In time, all Jews who had adopted the “German rite” synagogue ritual were referred to as Ashkenazim to distinguish them from Sephardic (Spanish rite) Jews. Ashkenazim differ from Sephardim in their pronunciation of Hebrew, in cultural traditions, in synagogue cantillation (chanting), in their widespread use of Yiddish (until the 20th century), and especially in synagogue liturgy. Today Ashkenazim constitute more than 80 percent of all the Jews in the world, vastly outnumbering Sephardic Jews. In the early 21st century, Ashkenazic Jews numbered about 11 million. In Israel the numbers of Ashkenazim and Sephardim are roughly equal, and the chief rabbinate has both an Ashkenazic and a Sephardic chief rabbi on equal footing. All Reform and Conservative Jewish congregations belong to the Ashkenazic tradition

As you can see, britannica does in fact mention that Ashkenazi Jews were first in the Rhineland valley (germany) and france, and later moved to Eastern Europe. I have some nitpicking on that as what I said doesn't match but regardless. Ashkenazi Jews aren't in Ashkenaz according to John, they are in Eastern Europe

The source for Sephardi Judaism (emphasis mine)

Sephardi, member or descendant of the Jews who lived in Spain and Portugal from at least the later centuries of the Roman Empire until their persecution and mass expulsion from those countries in the last decades of the 15th century. The Sephardim initially fled to North Africa and other parts of the Ottoman Empire, and many of these eventually settled in such countries as France, Holland, England, Italy, and the Balkans. Salonika (Thessaloníki) in Macedonia and the city of Amsterdam became major sites of Sephardic settlement. The transplanted Sephardim largely retained their native Judeo-Spanish language (Ladino), literature, and customs. They became noted for their cultural and intellectual achievements within the Mediterranean and northern European Jewish communities. In religious practice, the Sephardim differ from the Ashkenazim (German-rite Jews) in many ritual customs, but these reflect a difference in traditional expression rather than a difference in sect. Of the estimated 1.5 million Sephardic Jews worldwide in the early 21st century (far fewer than the Ashkenazim), the largest number were residing in the state of Israel. The chief rabbinate of Israel has both a Sephardic and an Ashkenazi chief rabbi. The designation Sephardim is frequently used to signify North African Jews and others who, though having no ancestral ties to Spain, have been influenced by Sephardic traditions, but the term Mizrahim is perhaps more properly applied.

As you can also see, the britannica also mentions that Sephardi talks about North African Jews. What is that? SWANA Jews exist? and experienced persecution? Couldn't be. Surely all Jews are actually European and are colonizers in the land of palestine (heavy sarcasm and cynicism). I've got to say, I find the fact that using where Jews ended up for Ashkenazi Jews, and where they "originated" (in quotation due to the fact that only the name originated from there) for Sephardi Jews rather disingenuous, as the story being told erases the existence of SWANA jews to an upsetting and worrying degree.

Review and Credits Almost done. Just have to get through the review. John finishes up the story with something that I have mixed feelings about. He describes Judaism as a religion, but that being Jewish doesn't require a religious identity. I find the but annoying. It's not "judaism is a religion but doesn't have to be", it's "judaism is a religion and a people, and a culture, etc etc". Judaism is older than the concept of religion, we're a people, who can also have a set of belief and behaviour, but not doing them does not preclude you from being part of the family (unless, of course, you actively leave the family but that is a nuance not for here). The rest of his review is fine in my opinion. And now, the credits, which have a list of names that don't seem to be Jewish, but I can't find that about all of them (i know at least one of the people in charge of information for either this video or the series in general is definitely not Jewish)

I don’t know how to finish this, other than… Do better, Crash Course, do better @sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog.

[heliianth]

mini meta because i cant get this fucking scene out of my brain:

its one of my fav Alluka scenes because its a sneak peek into her frankly miraculous emotional intelligence that simultaneously contextualizes it. She's still a little kid. Alluka is a smart cookie who can properly recognize and identify what people are feeling, can generally guess why they're feeling it, and get an idea of what would make them happy. But that "feeling" is hate for her, and what would make them happy is her disappearing. Really heartbreaking.

but the way Killua responds is also pretty fascinating to me? like, he pivots so fucking hard LOL. And I get it, it's such a loaded question. Would the Zoldycks be happier if Alluka was gone? Realistically, the answer is no... but admitting that would require a self-awareness about his family and his abuse Killua doesn't have yet. He probably doesn't even know how to answer, doesn't know what the answer even is.

So instead of digging into that can of worms, Killua cocks his own shotgun and fires back another loaded question: "If I were the only one who loved you in the whole world... would that make you sad?"

There were like a dozen other, much safer ways to both avoid this question and comfort Alluka. It's not even a full dodge, it's directly related to Alluka's fear via implication (the rest of the family doesn't love you). And it's not like Killua hasn't verbally weaseled his way out of tougher conversations. So... why?

I'm gonna try to truncate my full thoughts because I literally have a WIP 5k+ meta about it and I don't want to go down that rabbit hole, but Killua projects onto Alluka and Nanika a lot in this arc. Keeping that in mind, I think this question is his best, most earnest way of comforting Alluka because this train of thought is what's comforted him in the past.

I mean, think about it. Someone who will love and accept you no matter who you are or what you've done? Just one person who doesn't care? He's putting himself in the position of Alluka's Gon-figure here. And if you buy into that, the followup—"I'll always be there for you. Don't worry about anyone else"—reveals how a portion of his subconscious saw his emotionally dependent relationship with Gon as well; that is, as a comforting means to psychologically avoid confronting harder questions about himself, his upbringing, or how other people view him. It's kind of no coincidence that the minute Gon is wholly and totally incapacitated and Killua starts mucking around with the revolutionary idea of boundaries, he immediately starts thinking about his family again (in some manner).

And as an indulgent aside, I want to point out that when he ends up sending Nanika—who is, unlike Alluka, a subject of Killua's darker and more self-hating projections—away and Alluka fights back instead of internalizing it, Killua immediately recognizes the irrationality...

...because it breaks the mirror.

anyway. squeezes and shakes them like squeaky toys

[bella-goths-wife]

How reader could manipulate the bowers gang boys

Again, please enjoy my attempts at being deep writer while being sick and sad

I do not intend to romanticise or encourage any of the following warnings, my writing is solely for entertainment and informational purposes. I do not support or condone any and all abuse and I do not believe in any of the various themes I write about.

Henry bowers:

As we've established in previous posts, Henry craves to be taken care of

His mother was the only person who cared about him until his dad scared her off, and now he has no one

His dad couldn't give less of a shit about him, and while he sees the boys as his brothers, he'd never discuss thoughts and feelings with them because he was their leader and he can't seem weak

But you, you were so gentle and kind to those around you

Sure, you looked cold and sometimes you'd act like an arrogant bitch

But he saw how you acted with Beverly, before he made you his

You knew she struggled, so you'd make her an extra lunch and offer her a shoulder to cry on

Something about watching those interactions made Henry's skin crawl with an ugly jealousy which he mistook for anger and disgust

That's why he was so intent on hurting you the day he and the boys followed you after school, so he could take out his frustrations

But then he and the other boys saw you dancing, and he knew you'd be perfect

The way you could manipulate Henry is by really playing into the caregiver role

Make his lunches, write him little notes on them, offer to trim his hair, cook his dinners, offer to do his laundry and take care of his wounds after fights

Really act like you care about Henry, make him believe that you can be relied on

Make Henry believe that you are the one person in the world who cares about him and you'll be in for a world of surprises

As time goes on Henry will reveal more about himself, in his own gruff and verbally abusive fashion

But there will be a gentleness that's unlocked within him, it's minuscule when looking at it through the societal norms but if you view it as someone who has experienced his abuse for months, the change can be unexpected

If you do something wrong, as long as it's only minor (like burning his food slightly or not responding the first time he speaks), he'll turn a blind eye to it for the first time it happens instead of yelling and hurting you

And if he does decide to 'punish' you, he'll clean up your wounds instead of making you work through it and he'll make sure to avoid body parts that are vital to your ballet dancing

He'll also become more affectionate in his own way

He'll hold you at night in a way that used to be rough and only a precaution in case you tried to do something while he slept, but now his hold is less bruising and held more adoration then before

If you want to manipulate Henry, then the best way to do this is to voice your opinion while he holds you

It's really the only time he'd listen, so you'd have to make sure you do it correctly and you don't overuse it because he would eventually catch on

But if you wanted something to change within the group, your best chance is to mention it during this time

For example, if you didn't want to be around Patrick for too long, all you'd have to say to Henry is "Patrick makes me uncomfortable sometimes when he touches me"

And suddenly, your around Patrick by yourself less and less by Henry's command

Another route you could take is to cause conflict within the group, for example

You could say something like "Patrick's been quite demanding lately, he told me not to make you lunch tomorrow and to make it for him instead"

This will plant seeds of doubt in Henry's mind and will cause problems amongst the boys

The only side effect to this manipulation is a very needy, clingy and possessive Henry who feels the need to have you around 24/7 since you take such good care of him

Patrick Hockstetter:

Patrick is a sociopath, it's very clear to see and if he were born ten years later he would be labelled as dangerous to society

So his manipulation would be extremely hard, but everyone has their blindspots

And Patrick's is that he craves sexual attention and validation

Patrick has been sleeping with girls since he was fifteen, and sometimes he thinks it's the only thing that makes other people seem real to him

He's engaged in sexual relations with you, but never with your consent

And while he enjoys the pleasure and control he gains from the interaction, he knows that he would prefer it if you were an active participant who enjoyed the experience with him

A way you could manipulate Patrick is if you started to act enthusiastic to sleep with him

You'd have to force yourself and you'd have to be a good actress, but if you acted enthusiastically about having sex with Patrick and sharing that part of yourself willingly with him it would definitely lower his guard

As I've mentioned before in previous posts, after having any sexual interactions with you he will be kinder to you for a few weeks afterwards

This means that If you wanted to make it so he was being nicer to you then you could initiate sex with him for your own benefit

This would grant you many rewards such as gifts he stole from the mall, defending you against the other boys when they get too rough and he's even able to get you out of some of the punishments the other boys set out for you

Another route you could take Patrick's manipulation is to withdraw from sex completely

For weeks you'd be enthusiastic and initiating sex with Patrick until he does something that makes you upset

Once he does this, you stop acting happy about having sex with him and you stop participating

You can't outright stop having sex with him unfortunately as he will just force you to

But If you withdraw from sex go from someone who was enthusiastic and excited to someone who just lays there and takes it while you dissociate from the situation, it's gonna give Patrick a case of whiplash

He'll try and enjoy the sex even though your withdraw but he just can't anymore, not when he's experienced you at your fullest

So he'll subconsciously start to gain back your attention

This would be an opportunity to try and gain more out of Patrick

Request things that you'd get smacked for before

Ask for things like alone time, cigarettes, friends and they'll all be granted as long as you just have sex with Patrick with the same passion as before

If you want to cause problems with the group through your manipulation of Patrick, start sleeping with one of the other boys with enthusiasm while denying Patrick and you'll have a fist fight in no time

Victor Criss:

Vic is extremely possessive of you

You are his and he is yours, he has stated this to you many times

This possessiveness has always been encouraged by his silent resentment of Henry and the other boys

All of his nice and pretty things were always taken from him

When he was younger, belch would steal his toys and break them

When he was a pre teen, Henry would steal his lunches and snacks from home

And when he was a teenager, Patrick would steal any girl that vic found pretty before sleeping with her and leaving her broken hearted

Vic held so much resent in for those instances, but they formed dark bruises on his heart from the memories

All you have to do is press down on those bruises and reignite the sting he felt from them

You could act very affectionate with him behind closed doors and act like the two of you are just passionate lovers

Be affectionate with him and make him more vulnerable and susceptible to your manipulative behaviour

Once he's comfortable, reinforce his thoughts of how you are his and his only

Make sure he knows that you believe that you are his as well

This will encourage to him to take your requests more seriously and to even grant the very few he can

It also reassures you that he's less likely to punish you if you act like his perfect little toy

•But if you wanted to go down the route of manipulating the boys against each other, then your best bet is to pit him against Henry

Drop into conversations that you wish you could spend more time with him, but Henry just won’t let you

Describe all the horrible things Henry does to you and exaggerate it before adding “if it was just you and me, you’d never do anything like this to me”

All those feelings of resentment that vic repressed for years will boil over

At first it will start off as small arguments but it will quickly develop

If you continuously use these methods of manipulation on vic for months and then try to provoke Henry into acting cruel to you and punishing you in front of vic, then make vic watch the cruelty being inflicted on you and watch his possessive and protective behaviour bubble to the surface

There would be a bloody fight which would end up with one of them dead, and you better pray that it’s Henry who looses

You know what they say

If you want to kill a snake, remove the head

Belch Huggins:

As I’ve said in my other posts, belch is absolutely desperate for your approval

He’s craved it ever since the first time you granted him a compliment

Even if it was more of an observation of a compliment, to him it felt like a goddess had finally given him a purpose

You may think that’s enough to be able to manipulate belch, but unfortunately you weren’t the first person to figure this out

Henry has always been observant over belch, belch is physically stronger and if he were smarter he could probably overtake Henry as the group leader

So Henry definitely noticed how much belch lit up after you praised or complimented him

And he saw this as something that could be a threat

So he decided to use it against you before you figured out a plan

He told belch that in order to gain your approval, he would have to follow Henry’s instructions no matter how cruel or violent they were

Henry reassured him that even if you insulted belch or yelled at him for following Henry’s instructions, but it was all for your own good

And eventually you’d thank belch for helping you figure out what you wanted

At least that’s what Henry told him

So no matter how guilty belch may feel, Henry has manipulated him so much that he truly does believe the abuse is gonna help you

But one way you could manipulate belch is through similar methods as vic or Henry

Overpower him with your affection and compliments

Make him feel loved and wanted with your words and actions

But only do this obviously in private with him

Only give him your affections and approval subtly

Think about secret lovers affection, like touching pinkies with your hands spread out or his hand on your knee under the table

These actions will make his as giddy as a teenager in love

He truly will believe that you and him are in love

While you give him the affection and approval that he craves, make small requests like

“I really wish I could smoke again, do you think you could give me one of your cigarettes”

Now there is a small chance that he’ll allow it if he’s blissed out on your touch, but if he denies you then immediately stop all the affection that your giving him and push him away

This will cause him to backpedal and give in to your request as long as you continue to touch him

This only works for minor requests though, for major requests you’ll need to scare him

For example, if you wanted some time to spend with Beverly then you’d have to ask him and when he Denies you then simply threaten him with harming yourself or not eating

This will send his protective side into overdrive and you can have this man on his knees begging for forgiveness if you play your cards right

A way to manipulate him against the rest of the group is to prove yourself as the only person who cares about him and loves him before planting the seeds of doubt in his mind

Drop little comments like “Patrick was wrong about you, your not stupid” or “vic says your too violent, but I don’t think that’s true”

He’ll start to second guess his friends and he’ll start to come to you more with his problems

But the best move to make is to make it so after all those months of manipulating belch against the rest of his friends, have him watch as Henry is unnecessarily cruel to you

And then go crying into belchs arms in private and demand to know why he didn’t help you or defend you

Drop in a “I thought you loved me” and you’ll have undone all of Henry’s manipulation in seconds

You could convince belch to take you away from the rest of the boys and to run away with you so you could be together forever

Hopefully you’ll be able to sneak away from belch at some point because he now trusts you

And even if you don’t, being stuck with belch is the lesser of two evils