#maybe it’s because i like in a blue state in a very blue city at a blue uni

[aviangrian]

60% latinos for #him is pissinf me off bad. we are NEVER beating the uneducated allegations im so mad rn

[r3ynah]

I Can be everything and anything, at once

A 27 years old Phantom was challenged to a bet, by his co-workers at the watchtower. Green lantern stated along with the the other heroes that If he could help every single one of them at least once in a month while not using any his powers and he also had to be physically and mentally there as he helps them. the cherry on top was that he needed to use his real identity instead of his ghost form in this mission.

If Phantom successfully conceals his civilian identity, while helping them, he gets to know everyone's deepest darkest secrets.

But if he loses, he must do everyone a favor and must keep it no matter how outrageous it is.

Ofcourse Phantom agreed, because he was no bitch, okay so maybe he is, he only accepts bets like this if he knows that'll he'll win. so yeah.

Besides, having no powers for this, is really a piece of cake, if you're a raging gender fluid that knows his way around makeup and can easily change the sound of his voice, to be honest the shapeshifting parts that he got from his powers are basically just add-ons.

Well what was he waiting for? afterall he needed all the blackmail he could get, not as Phantom but as Daniel James Fucking Fenton, this was an opportunity to go batshit crazy and he was absolutely stealing it.

The very first hero Danny approached to help was Wonder Woman, who thanked Danny who was now disguised as a woman wearing a long ass Red wig, and some clothes he "borrowed" from Jazz who just joked about Danny being her twin, and wished him luck.

"Thank you, young lady for your brave actions to help me." Wonder woman sincerely thanked the boy in disguise as she held both of Danny's hands as gratitude "may I ask the name of my savior? "

"My name's El, It's a pleasure to know you." Danny smiled a little wider.

The second was Flash, which Danny found completely amusing because of the way he helped the speedy hero, who tripped while patrolling around the city.

Danny who was now in a more gothic attire( thanks to Sam's help) caught the hero's wrist before he embarrassingly fell face first on the ground.

"You okay there sir?" Danny asked, as he kept a firm grip on the man's wrist to make sure he doesn't fall.

Meanwhile Flash who thought he was in those korea tv romance dramas only blue screened for a few seconds before finally get his shit together. "yeah- um- name's Flash, and you are?"

The hero tripped on his own words, making Danny amused as fuck. "James, it was nice to finally meet you"

Okay, about like three weeks in, and Danny managed to help almost everyone in the watchtower, and only a few more to go,( he didn't get why most of the heroes he helped either started to stutter or blue screen in their spot once they talk to him. like damn is this how all of you treat every civilian who interacts with you? that's just sad) but at this time, Dan and Elle found out, and were now demanding to join, with the excuse of basically being Danny but in alternate or clone form, which Danny had no choice but to give in, I mean he wasn't breaking any rules so technically this was alright.

Danny wanted to take a break so Dan took over this time.

currently Nightwing was observing the outside of the gala, Bruce was invited to, something about a bunch of drugs being hidden within the crowd, and was now being passed around.

He intently remained focused on his observation, while also keeping a conversation with Oracle and the others on the comms, he didn't realize that he was too far off the edge of the railing he was standing on, until he missed a step.

Nightwing would never admit that he let a quiet squeal to his siblings ever as he fell, he closed his eyes and braced for impact, he would never expect to fall into the arms of a man 3x bigger than him, he stared at the man, and the man stared at him. 'holy shit' Nightwing thought.

The man, chuckled making Nightwing internally scream. "When I wished for Desiree, to make someone from above to save me from this trash party, I didn't think it would be one of the birds of gotham, to come and fall for me let alone the handsome one."

Okay Nightwing was now full on red from blushing, he was put down gently by the man on the ground, before offering a handshake, once Nightwing accepted the handshake, Dan pulled the hand closer to his mouth then gave a quick peck on the back of the hand vigilante's hand. "My name's Dan Masters, it's a pleasure to meet you."

his siblings can eat dirt on how they were teasing Nightwing Right now, but this was fucking worth it.

And the last to have gotten help from Danny was John Constantine, Danny actually had a reason on why he saved John for last, and that's because John actually knows Danny's identity, so for this mission he asked the help of his daughter Elle.

Elle had helped John by fixing a ruined summoning circle, who also helped him negotiate with a demon, and somehow all day, Elle just stuck to Constatine's side, her explanation? 'He'll die without me' fair point John thought as he took the kid, to order ice cream and to hangout in the park.

"You know kid, you remind me of someone." Constantine stated while keeping his eyes on what's infront of him, which was just a bunch of trees.

Elle who sat next to him, still eating her Ice cream looked up at him and said. "Really?"

"Yeah like you two literally have the same aura and all just a little different, but I don't know who yet." He replied and ruffled the kid's hair. making the girl laugh.

"Hey John!" Danny greeted behind them, and then all the gears inside of Constantine's head began to work. he let out a groan as he realized the girl beside him was the clone of the man behind him, well he needed to kiss that secret of his goodbye. here on this spot right now or he'll die of embarrassment if he waited any longer.

"Danny, let's go on a date." Constantine stated, not facing the Man.

this comment made the Father and Daughter choke on literal air.

[kaijutegu]

IL is having a contest to replace our not-very-good state flag and there are some amazingly good unserious submissions. I'm gonna show you my three favorites first and then put up a read more because this is a long post but you should click the read more anyways because laser Lincoln is too good to pass up.

If you want to see all of them, the PDF is here- but be warned, it's 1,878 pages long. However, there are some REALLY cute and well-thought-out kid designs towards the end- I think my favorite one from the kid-submitted ones is the one where there's our state mushroom releasing spores. Or maybe the one where the description says "We have the cubs and they suck."

Anyways, flags!

"The green background color represents our State's beautiful prairies. The goblin represents the uplifting spirit of our citizens, always hungry to achieve our dreams and goals. The "State Seal Dish" represents our state's government and the guidance and support it provides. The state of Illinois that is being consumed represents the nourishment that this State provides to its people. The text simply displays what is true."

"My flag represents the great turtles of our state. Illinois is home to seventeen different turtle species! This flag shows what Illinois is all about."

(There's nothing unserious about this, this SHOULD be our flag.)

"the laser beam projects a powerful image of Illinois. I believe my design is so powerful it does not need to be discussed."

"The blue-heeler cartoon dog represents the below-average rate of dogs in Illinois and the need for more. It also represents Australia's looming takeover of young America's minds. The blue background represents Illinois's blue sky. The word "Illinois" written in Hello Headline font represents Illinois and the clouds. The scroll has the words "State Sovereignty, National Bluey" written on it, which serves as a tribute to the old flag."

"The white and blue color is inspired by the Centennial flag, while the brown represents the Dave Matthews Band incident which is fondly remembered to Illinoisians. The bird is a Norhern Cardinal, the Illinois state bird. It destroying Chicago skyline represents how the city is often overrepresented and other cities didn’t get the representation deserved. The CGpog emojis pays tribute to Gavin Atack, which is the most legendary Chicagoan and symbolize how Illinois is a very POG state."

"This flag depicts Abraham Lincoln riding a woolly mammoth. Abe, who is the subject of our state motto "Land of Lincoln", represents honesty and virtue. The mammoth is an example of one of the most impressive creatures that roamed our state in its prehistory. The white background is an homage to the previous state flag, where the white separated it from the typical "seal on blue bed sheet".

This one is just AI slop- but it did make me laugh because I found the pretentious artist description to be hilariously at odds with the fact that this is AI slop: "StreetVanGogh: The Paintbrush that Binds Chicago and Illinois"In the heart of Illinois, where the wind whispers secrets through the prairies and the river runs like ink across a page, lies a city born from fire—Chicago. StreetVanGogh, an artist molded by this urban forge, wields a paintbrush not just as a tool, but as a compass that draws the lines connecting his city to the state he calls home.Chicago is the pulse of Illinois, a metropolis with a skyline that scratches at the stars," Hey, StreetVanGogh? Illinois famously does not have mountains. And Chicago famously does not have two Sears Towers. Try harder next time.

"It's a glistening NUTS though"

"The flag has a rainbow background, celebrating the vibrant LGBTQ culture in Illinois as well as the racial and ethnic diversity that makes this state great. The Chinese text is there to represent our fantastic Chinese community, the largest in the midwest. It reads, "Peace and joy, independent nation" which is what this state should aspire to be. In the center, is an outline of the great state itself with our most famous person, Abraham Lincoln, blushing to honored to be on this flag." I would love to know what those characters actually say.

"16th US President and Illinoisan Abraham Lincoln is a symbol of our great state and his work in quashing The Confederacy in the American Civil War cannot be understated. The background color is meant to evoke that of a Union Army uniform of the period, with the red representing the blood he shed defending our democracy to the bitter end. Lincoln would be proud to fly this beautiful banner commemorating his achievements."

"The colors represent the proud Chicago style hot dog. Beige for the bun and celery salt, carmine for the tomato and vienna beef, chartreuse for pickles and sport peppers, citrine for the mustard, white for the onions, and kelly green for the relish. The 21 black dots represent poppy seeds, as well as Illinois' inclusion as the 21st state. The citrine stripe of the mustard also represents corn and Malört."

There were a couple of hot dog flags, but this one gets a special dishonourable mention for mentioning Malört.

[kittyfrisk9]

IdeaDpxDc: A nice moment with a sleep demon/2

Part 1(?)

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Dead On Main.

---

Peace is, without a doubt, a precious commodity.

That was the conclusion Jason came to after a long moment of reflection, observing his cosmic boy: the dream demon who had saved him from that endless nightmare.

They were both in a field covered with flowers in shades of blue, purple and pink, under a starry sky where the stars seemed to shine with an unusual intensity. The same scenario as the last twenty times.

Yes, they had seen each other again. After Jason refused to forget that moment, the demon simply visited him again the next night, without even bothering to hide.

They didn't do much, they just played, had fun and enjoyed sweet moments together, like now, when the demon came up with the peculiar idea of ​​making flower crowns.

However, despite being the one who had the idea, he was the last to finish his crown. Jason found it sincerely adorable how the demon frowned, frustrated at not being able to tie a knot. Her expression was so cute that Jason couldn't help but smile. Sure, he could have helped her, but that would have robbed him of those precious minutes of admiration for him.

He didn't know how much time passed, he just watched and pondered. After all, time in this place was strange.

"I'm done!" Void exclaimed, proudly raising his crown. "Isn't it pretty?"

Jason replied with a simple "Yes." However, he wasn't looking at the flower crown, but at the creator of it. Although Void didn't seem to notice that detail.

"Thank you. It's the same design that Sa-Saiph showed me!" He commented, satisfied.

There it was again. Those little slips of information that Jason had noticed in the multiple conversations they'd had. Jason chuckled; Void wasn't very good at hiding data. He mentally noted it down in the special folder he'd created in his head for him anyway.

Because he'd be a liar if he said he didn't try to find out more about that demon with the information he'd inadvertently given him. Though, to be honest, he didn't try very hard either.

After all, he could see that Void was a nice guy. (And maybe, just maybe, Jason had a little crush on him.)

"One of your friends?" Jason asked curiously.

"Yeah, my best friend," Void replied. "She's a huge plant fanatic. I suspect she's on the level of Poison Ivy."

"Eh, it would be a problem to have another plant invasion," Jason commented, remembering the woman's extremist past. How many times had she invaded the city with her plants?

"Oh no, no, it only happened once, and she was being forced to do it," the demon suddenly stated, as if trying to quickly correct the impression he had given.

"Your friend invaded a city with plants?" Jason asked, incredulous.

"Just once," Void emphasized, as if that made it any better.

What the hell? How had that not reached the ears of the Justice League? Forget it, he decided not to ask. Some things were better left unsaid.

He decided to change the subject instead.

Unintentionally, his vision focused on the hands holding the crown, and then on her arms. The areas on his arms were decorated with a design that reminded Jason of a starry sky, filled with tiny, glowing stars and nebulas against a dark background. It was so beautiful, as if Void's arms were an extension of outer space.

As he looked closer, he realized that some other parts of his body also shared that surreal effect of a universe filled with stars. There were sparkles of light on his skin that seemed to dance with every movement, creating an ethereal and captivating image.

"Your skin… is amazing," Jason said, without thinking. "You look like you're made of stars."

Void smiled, a little embarrassed. "Thanks. I guess it's just part of my nature. I've always loved outer space."

Jason was silent for a moment, enjoying the revelation. "Really? Why?" He asked, genuinely curious to know more.

Void looked at his hands fondly. "I think it's partly because of my older sister. When I was little, she was… gone for a while. It was only a short time, but I was lonely. Then, on a call, she told me that I wasn't alone, that the stars were keeping me company. She said that every point in the sky was a friend watching me." Void then turned his gaze to Jason. "It's a silly story, right?"

Jason shook his head. "No. It's cute." Then, blushing, he added, "I have things I like too for certain reasons."

Void looked at him with interest. "Really? I'd love to hear about it."

However, Jason looked away, visibly embarrassed. "No."

The answer made Void's expression immediately deflate. "Oh, ancients… Why not? Tell me, tell me, tell me!" He exclaimed as he excitedly threw himself at Jason, eager to discover his secrets.

Jason laughed. "Still a no." Then he quickly dodged Void, jumping up and running to avoid being caught. Void, amused and exasperated, chased after him, insisting that he deserved to know.

"Come on! It's not fair!" Void shouted with laughter as he ran after Jason.

Fresh air, laughter, and the feeling of freedom filled the field of flowers. Yes, this was the peace Jason so desperately needed.

…

As dawn came, Jason woke up. His bed was really comfortable, and the little meetings with his sleep demon were truly relaxing. Jason had certainly had a satisfying month.

Stretching out on his bed, Jason wondered what he should have for breakfast, until he saw him.

He immediately sat up cursing the person creepily standing in the corner of the room: the demon brat, still in Robin's costume and staring at him. "Shit, Damian! What are you doing standing there?"

Damian completely ignored his question and, in a serious tone, asked, "Todd, do you do drugs?"

"What?" Jason frowned.

"You laughed a lot in your dreams," his younger brother said, his expression a mix of curiosity and disdain.

Jason looked at him in disbelief. Had this kid been spying on him all night while he slept?

---

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

One of Damian's hypotheses is that his brother uses drugs. As for Jazz, she had an accident in her parents' basement that injured her arm, so she had to stay in the hospital for a while. Danny felt super lonely without his older sister.

Comment that nobody cares about: I wasn't planning on continuing with this, I know it's poorly written, but inspiration came when I saw this (honestly it's a very weird way to get inspiration)

[leviackermanstoes]

Girl, your stories are so GOOD! I love reading your fics. I just saw you may be taking fics for Jayce or Viktor. Is there any way I could request a Jayce x Viktor x Reader fic where the reader is very naturing, cuddly, and gentle with both of them, but maybe she hides all her stress and struggles cause she deems theirs more important? Like, she always knows when they want coffee, how they each take it, covers them up when the lab is cold or they pass out at the desk, rubs their shoulders when she sees them shrug too much, just very attentive. Yet, she’s not a scientist and thinks that being stressed over literature projects and teaching is ridiculous cause it’s not as difficult or as important (in her mind) as hextech. So she just ignores her needs until these two notice.

I’m so sorry if that is too much! I hope you enjoy the third act when it comes out. Thank you so much for reading this! 🩶

OH ABSOLUTELY I CAN DO THIS. 😭😭 THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING AND LIKING MY STORIES IT MEANS SO MUCH.

--fem reader. Fluff. Small sad. Angst if you squint. Cute throuple time.

--

The laboratory is cold, and the rain that batters piltover decorates the window like glass tears. Your eyes droop tiredly as you watched viktor twist the cogs in the next hextech project and listen to the sound of slow puffs of steam every few minutes that came from brass pipes on the walls.

Jayce is unmoving as he sits at his own desk, sorting through two stacks of papers. You hate it, hate watching them so vulnerable and so tired. Both are so hard-working and loyal to their studies.

"Allow me to help you both," you spoke as you stood up.

Reaching for two soft blue blankets stored in the corner, you walked firstly to jayce and draped the blanket across his shoulders and gave his cheek a soft kiss.

"I can't have my boys going cold now, can I?"

You spoke as you walked to viktor to drape a blanket across his much more lean shoulders, kissing his cheek, too. Viktor looked up at you and smiled tiredly.

"Thank you, my love." it never failed to make your heart flutter hearing viktor call you that, especially when his accent made it so smooth and endearing.

"Are you staying with us tonight?" Jayce spun in his chair, leaning an arm on his knee.

"I um" you cleared your throat.

The truth was, you had things to do. Your own assignments and activities to tend to. But viktor and jayce's eyes were gleaming deep brown in the dim laboratory light and so often you found yourself missing them when they would make you go to bed without them because they were afraid you would pass out after spending so long with them doing work.

"I have no where to be"

Paperwork

Documents

Assignments

Blueprints

Papers

Papers papers pap-

"No," you shook your head. "I have nowhere to be"

You smiled as you walked over to stand by the window, viktor and jayce came to stand on either side of you. The rain still pounded the glass, crystal city and enforcers were hounded the soaking streets each night, like a herd of elephants stampeding with metal boots.

"You need not worry about what's happening down there." Jayce put his hand on your shoulder.

Viktor turned his head to you. "It is not our worry, my love" he spoke ever so softly.

You pressed your lips together into a thin line, as you thought over so much.

"You both must be hungry," you stated.

You stepped away from them both before you walked over to the door. You would make them cups of hot tea and nice warm soup. bread and butter.

"Stop right there, doll" Jayce spoke loudly.

You froze and turned around to see jayce holding up your textbook. You gasped and realised they had indeed caught you.

"When were you going to tell us you had assignments to do?" Jayce asked.

Viktor turned around to face you, his head tilted. You looked at the ground defeated before them, and began to cry.

"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you both. I was so entranced with helping you with your dreams that I forgot about my own, " you frowned and sighed.

The two of them walked over to you and hugged you tightly. If they had known you were in such troubles, they would have chained you to the table and glued a pencil in your hand.

"I love you both so much, and I'm so sorry that kept it from you." .You looked at them with gentle and sorrowful eyes.

"You need not be sorry. But It's time to start taking care of yourself, my love. " viktor held you close to him

You nodded, making them both smile admiringly.

"We love you, pretty girl"

You gave them both soft kisses to their lips and smiled. "You know I'm still going to take care of you both"

They were your boys. And even if you were working every day and night on your own papers, you would find ways to still make sure they had their breakfast lunch and dinner and were always hydrated and healthy. You loved them both dearly and they too loved you too.

"If I find out you aren't focusing on yourself, I'll take back my promise to buy cupcakes" Viktor spoke.

Not only did you gasp. But beside you, the man of progress did too.

[dyns33]

Only wastelands

I will try to do this Cooper Howard x reader in three parts, but I like the Ghoul so much, I might want to write more

People said Y/N’s neighborhood was lucky.

After a draw, they were selected to join a Vault shelter for free, if something dramatic happened one day, allowing them to survive.

Y/N had received the news with mixed feelings. She didn't want to die from a nuclear bomb, but she also didn't want to think about the possibility of a nuclear bomb falling on their heads.

There was no reason for this to happen anyway.

China and the United States had resumed peace negotiations. The war was going to end and everything would be wonderful. The vaults would then be of no use.

That day, she was washing dishes in her small kitchen. She lived alone, having left her parents who were in another state to settle near Lors Angeles.

Of course, she had first dreamed of Hollywood, and then she had been reasonable, finding a normal job, to live a normal life.

First there was the light. For a moment, she blinked, wondering if she had fainted. And looking out the window, she first saw the smoke in the distance.

Her neighbors were out, she could see them in the street which also looked towards the city center, and no doubt they were talking, but Y/N heard nothing, all her attention fixed on the smoke.

It was just smoke. She watched without being able to move as the cloud grew, before the shock wave reached her house, destroying the windows and shaking the walls.

Screams were then heard, in addition to the sirens. Falling to the ground in shock, Y/N almost didn't get up, but one of the neighbors, instead of thinking selfishly, ran to see if she was still there, helping her to get up and taking her with her to the vault.

Everything happened very quickly after that.

Y/N vaguely remembered those smiling doctors, who explained to them that everything would be fine, doing several exams before putting what they called a pipboy on them, giving them a ridiculous blue and yellow jumpsuit.

"You are now the inhabitants of Vault 8. What has just happened is a tragedy, and we are going to need you to ensure the future of humanity."

They were taken to a large room, with human-sized tubes. The doctors explained that they would be put to sleep, kept in the cold, safe, and awakened only on the day when it would be possible to go out and repopulate the Earth without it being dangerous.

No one could have known that they were not safe at all.

When Y/N opened her eyes, she had a hard time understanding what was happening. There was no light in the vault, except for the one in her crate which had just opened automatically.

Most of the boxes in front of her were open and empty. Then turning around, she discovered decomposing corpses in those that had remained closed.

Her cries of terror brought no one to come, because there was no one in the shelter, just as there were no resources, no water, no food, nothing. Because no one was supposed to survive here.

For two days, Y/N cried, not knowing what to do.

Then she decided she didn't want to die, not like that anyway, and she tried her luck outside. She didn't know how long she had slept, or what she would find, but she had to try.

Her pipboy quickly told her that the air was breathable, despite the presence of radiation in certain places. But that wasn't the most important thing for her, seeing the desert surrounding the vault.

The bombs had destroyed everything, leaving only ruins and sand. Not being stupid, Y/N moved forward cautiously, trying to stay as covered as possible, even if it was difficult with her outfit.

On her way, she encountered two-headed cows, giant cockroaches, and other horrible creatures. No humans though, and she didn't know if that was a good thing.

With war, she knew that men could be much worse than beasts. Maybe they were all dead, from the explosions or all killing each other, or maybe they were still in the other vaults.

But life always found a way, even for assholes, and Y/N was attacked by three men while she was sleeping. Real savages, who talked more about eating her than anything else, laughingly ignoring her pleas.

“Now, that’s no way to treat a woman.” someone then said, stopping them as they were about to cut open her stomach.

"We found the bitch before you, pal ! Go get your lunch somewhere else !"

"Oh, but I think I found my meal. Mistreating a lady."

“You fucking ghoul !”

Too busy trying to get away, Y/N hadn't really looked at the man who had just arrived and was shooting at her attackers. Then, still too busy recovering from her misery, she took a while to raise her head, ready to thank her savior.

He didn't really seem surprised by her terror, although he grimaced as he watched her crawl away from him. She had to put her hand over her mouth to stop screaming.

It was impossible to tell if he had been burned or peeled, but the cowboy no longer had a nose, and his skin was in a catastrophic state.

As she stared at him with wide eyes, he watched her too, his attention settling on her pipboy.

"Ah. A vaultie. I understand the screams better. Never seen a ghoul before, sweetie ? Barely coming out of your little hole ?"

"… Sorry."

"No problem, sugar. You haven't insulted me or thrown things at me yet, it's quite polite."

At first, the ghoul was not very friendly. Yes, he had saved her, but he didn't want her to follow him into the wastelands. He didn't need a burden, and even less if it was a little rich girl.

But Y/N insisted, explaining to him what had happened to her, and the man looked at her with what looked like pity, muttering that she had ended up in one of the "bad vaults".

"I don't understand. What year is it ? Why is it only me who survived ? You… Sorry, what happened to you ?"

"Hey, honey. It's been over 200 years since everything blew up, thanks to Vault Tech. I imagine you and your friends were meant to serve as a pantry or an organ bank but like all their equipment, there's had a problem, and you were very lucky not to die like the others, and since you were there when everything happened, you should be able to guess why I am like this."

The Ghoul was gentleman enough to let her cry without comment.

The world was dead, and all because of money and power. Those who had sworn to protect them had killed them all. Nothing remained but an infertile, polluted, radioactive land, where the few survivors fought between factions instead of trying to find a real solution.

"Please… Don't leave me here…"

"You know, people didn't really like guys like me. It's not a good idea, sweetheart."

“They don’t like cowboys ?”

The question made him laugh. Maybe that was why he let her follow him. Or maybe because he wasn't as bad as he wanted to make out. Surely he felt lonely too, and it was nice to have someone who had lived in the same era as him , and who didn't judge him on his appearance.

Y/N didn’t understand ghoulophibia at all. Yes, they were scary, but that was no reason to mistreat these poor people.

"Okay, we judged on lots of things before, skin color, clothes, religion, but… Now, it's as if we were pointing at a cancer patient and shouting 'Look, he's sick Insult him !”

“It’s more complicated than that, sugar.” sighed the Ghoul, taking out a sort of hynalator to swallow its contents.

He explained radioactivity and the risks for him of becoming feral when they arrived in their first city. A chance for her to stay safe with people, their paths separating quietly.

But after three fights and an attack by Deathclaws, she preferred to stay with him.

So he taught her how to survive, use weapons, hide, follow a trail, earn caps. When asked why caps and not something else, he made a noise, saying he had no fucking idea, but men still wanted something to make business instead of helping each others for free.

After several months, he gave her a name. Cooper. Cooper Howard. He groaned when she asked him if he had anything to do with the old actor who did the Vault Tech commercial.

“Thanks for the bad memories, sweetie. An autograph ?”

“No thanks, never was a fan.”

"Ouch. Not even now, with my new look ? Do you think the cameras would like me ?"

“Let’s say that you will need less makeup for certain types of films, and a bag for others.”

Cooper laughed again, smiling at her with his slightly yellow teeth. It was obvious that it had been a long time since he had laughed like that with anyone.

He told her about his daughter after a year together in the wastelands. Handing her a photo, Y/N could see him as he was before, holding the little girl in his arms. They looked happy.

As she was about to give it back to him, he told her to keep it. It was the most important thing to him, so Y/N could keep the picture safe, and she would know that he would always come for her.

She muttered that she didn't doubt it anyway, putting the photo in her bag.

It was even longer later, when she had proclaimed herself the accountant of their small group, that Y/N noticed an inconsistency between the caps earned and the number of vials Cooper had.

“You should have five more vials.”

“Sugar, leave it.”

"No, really, I counted three times. I know the price by heart, you had fifty caps on your way to town, you should have fifteen vials. Is there a problem ? Has the price changed ? You… You Are you feeling well ?”

"I'm fine, sweetie. Sleep."

“But Coop…”

“Y/N, sleep.”

In the end, the price hadn't changed, Cooper was fine, but since they met, he had been spending his caps on non-irradiated water and food. For Y/N.

This discovery was a shock to her, who often watched him drink from puddles or eat human remains.

He didn't want her to do this. For her to become like him. When teaching her how to shoot, he added that it was just in case, because she wouldn't need to fight while he was there.

And now they were arguing about food, and he was ordering her to promise that she would continue to take what he gave her without question.

"You don't drink that dirty shit. You hear me, sugar ? Can you promise me ? You'll never drink that."

"… All right."

Their relationship was complicated. Cooper had probably told her everything, and yet he kept a distance. He didn't like her touching him, patting his shoulder or snuggling up to him to sleep.

Maybe he was afraid of making her sick. Maybe he thought she would rot on contact with him, and not just her skin.

Y/N really liked him anyway. They were both over 200 years old, even though she had been frozen during that time. They had spent a lot of time together. And even if she was still a little dizzy by his lack of nose, it wasn't the most important thing in a man.

It would have been two years when the raiders attacked. Far too many, so Cooper yelled at Y/N to run, to hide far away. He would come get her later.

Several days passed, and nothing. She was good at hiding, he had shown her, so it was possible that Cooper hadn't found her because she had become too good.

So she returned to the town where he came from, to at least find some informations. People did not easily forget the passage of The Ghoul.

But she didn't have to ask. She saw him in the bar, drinking and chatting with several guys.

Silent, discreet as a shadow, she came close enough to hear, thinking that he was in the middle of an business, and that she could surprise him when he finished with a beautiful reunion.

“You really don’t know where she is, Ghoul ?”

"Nah. Look guys, I know she was a real lil puppy that followed me everywhere, but I finally got rid of her, so I don't really care where she is. Not my problem. It was fun at first, but good riddance.”

She had seen the bomb fall, she had seen the bodies of her neighbors, but Y/N had never felt so bad as in that moment. She could feel her heart breaking in her chest, as Cooper and the others laughed together, mocking her.

Once, he had said that she should never trust anyone. It was an important rule to survive. But Y/N never believed that rule would include him.

With her bag and her weapon, she ran into the night, alone in the middle of the wasteland for the first time since she left her vault, and completely unaware of what she was going to do.

Only one thing was certain, she would never see Cooper Howard again.

[ifishouldvanish]

The idea of Olrox being from Cholula specifically makes me so insane. Like would he have identified more as Mexica? Or as Tlaxcaltec? Would he have been loyal to the Tlaxcaltec and allied with the Spanish only to get screwed over like his Mohican lover did in the colonies? Would he have done so thinking he could get the upper hand in the end just like Mizrak/Emmanuel thought the Order could with Erzsebet?

"He thinks the devils he manufactures will be enough to destroy her when the time comes. What do you think? Do you think he's right?" - S1E4

Even after the fall of Tenochtitlan, nobility from all over the region would have been sent to Cholula to get the blessing of Cholulan priests for their legitimacy. How might this have fueled his disdain for nobility?

Olrox: "I prefer my blood blue."

Drolta: "Maybe you do things differently in the new world, but over here we don't feed off the wealthy. The locals will start to grumble." - S1E5

As a Mexica citizen, this disdain could come from resentment toward sumptuary laws, the increasing lack of socioeconomic mobility during Moctezuma's rule, and frustration with how he handled the Spanish... But as a Cholulan sympathetic to Tlaxcala, there's so much more???

It could come from frustration with leadership that defected from the very people who helped them elude Mexica rule in the years before the Spanish conquest. Anger at a decision that economically obliterated the Tlaxcaltec, who became completely surrounded by Mexica member-states? Regret at how much it cost them to 'overthrow' the Mexica? Grief at how this kind of political/military opportunism helped lead the wider indigenous population to its demise?? Like the latter is so much more thematically ripe for a show tackling colonialism and imperialism imo???

"This one? He was just an opportunist, following the Messiah because she's powerful." - S1E4

I mean!!?? Think about how the implications of all of this... *gestures wildly* stuff would lead him to adopt such a cynical, morally ambiguous worldview? This sense that it's all doomed, that he's not strong enough to fight it? Resist and fall to your enemies, or work with them only to lose parts of your identity in the process? Think about how the brutality of the Cholula massacre recontextualizes eurocentric perceptions of the brutality of flower wars and ritual sacrifice??? How it would leave you with anger and pain and an unyielding need for justice?

"Little boy Belmont. I know that feeling. That pain, that hate, that burning, unendurable need for retribution." - S1E1

Think about how the Mexica Empire had adopted Huitzilopochtli (war, sacrifice) as their primary patron deity, and the Tlaxcaltec Mixcoatl/Camaxtli (the hunt, fire)... Yet Olrox's form seems to be based on Quetzalcoatl (wind, knowledge, rebirth, among other things)–the deity the great temple at Cholula was dedicated to.

A handful of mesoamerican deities are associated with serpents/have names ending in '-coatl', but Olrox's serpent form clearly has a feathered crest—the 'quetzal-' in Quetzalcoatl.

But Olrox's abilities also seem to include lightning/thunder, which are associated with Tlaloc, who the Cholulans seemed to have adopted as their central deity some time before the Spanish conquest.

Quetzalcoatl is only associated with storms sort of tangentially, through his aspect as the wind god, Ehecatl. The Florentine Codex refers to Quetzalcoatl-Ehecatl as sweeping the roads to make way for the rain and the thunder.

Think about how in Tlaxcaltec accounts, Cholula–being a sacred city–had no real military to speak of and depended on their gods to protect them???

Mizrak: "There's only one God. Just one. That's the only thing I'm sure of. And I've spent my whole life serving him, fighting for him. That hasn't changed, and it never will." Olrox: "One god... And you think he can protect you?" - S1E4

Like... What does it all mean???? 🫠🫠🫠

Agshsjdkdkfll *screams into a pillow* I am so excited for season 2 but whatever happens Cholulan Olrox is canon in my heart y'all

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 3

Source for pic

Trouble 3

Word Count: 4959

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Dead Animals Mentioned; Reader in a terror-like state; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I should have chapter 4 already finished... but it's not completed yet... I haven't written almost anything this week! I know with the hollidays it will be hectic around here, but I have a few days where the office is going to be closed, so maybe I can write a bit more! Fingers crossed! Until then, please enjoy the calmness before the storm!

Masterlist

“Morning, Bug.” Shanks fills a mug of coffee for you and sets it down on the table near your plate of bacon and eggs, beside a bouquet of wildflowers. 

“Morning, Dad. Thanks for the coffee, but aren't the flowers a bit too much? It's not my birthday…” You mumble between yawns. 

“They're not from me…” Shanks smirks and nods at a note that's tucked in with the silk ribbon. 

Brow rising, your fingers brush the petals of a deep crimson poppy before they catch the note between them. ‘Wild and beautiful, just like you.’

What? Who? 

Despite the lovely gesture, you can't shake the slightest feeling of unease, it tugs at your stomach, leaving you queasy and suspicious. 

“Who's it from?” Shanks tries to hide his curiosity but falls short when he reaches over your shoulder to glimpse the note. 

“I have no idea.”

“Come on! Not even the slightest hint?” You shake your head while your mind conjures up images of a slightly not-safe-for-work dream you had with a certain green-haired cop, and you blush unintentionally. 

Obviously. Shanks picks it up. 

“You and Zoro seemed pretty cosy when I arrived yesterday…”

“It's not from him… I think.” You deflect the implications, not wanting to read too much into it yourself. “He’s not the type for grand gestures.”

Shanks hums in agreement while placing his coffee cup in the sink. “I see what you mean.” But then he places his hand on your shoulder, forcing you to look at his unbearable smirk. “Though do not underestimate a man in love.”

“Dad!” You feel your ears getting hot as you get up suddenly, looking for a vase to set the flowers on. 

“I’m just saying.” He shrugs. 

“He’s not… we… we’re just friends! I just got back.” You fuss with the flowers until they’re all spread beautifully on the vase and then set them at the centre of the table.

Shanks pouts and stares at you through the flowers, across from you. “Friends.” He air quotes with two fingers. “I’ve been there, Bug.”

“Agh! You’re impossible, Dad.”

But he might also be right. Because if last night was any indication, you and Zoro might be crossing the ‘just friends’ barrier soon. 

And, honestly, there’s nothing wrong with that. 

-*-

Shanks tells you to put a hold on your job hunt because he’ll be gone for about three weeks to a month for a horse show on an island in the South Blue and he’ll need you to take care of the animals and manage the farm chores. 

So you spend the next week getting reacquainted with most of your father’s tasks in addition to the ones you had taken over ever since coming back. 

The gifts keep coming. 

Every morning there are chocolates, or flowers, or stuffed animals, little trinkets… The notes are rather simple, always evoking your beauty, but short and nondescript. You are no closer to knowing who they’re from now than you were on the first day you got them.

Shanks keeps hinting that it might be Zoro, but you doubt that very much. Besides the fact that he’s not one for romantic gestures, he would’ve said something about the gifts after six straight days.

And it’s not like you haven’t been chatting… not in person, since you’ve been busy at the farm and he’s been pulling double shifts to have the Saturday off again, but you text every day.

Short texts, to the point, much like Zoro is, but he always asks how you are and if you need anything. 

And knowing he’s trying to take care of you leaves a very warm feeling in your chest. Especially because your clumsiness almost brought you to the clinic twice just this week. You have to thank whichever deity is watching over you because, even though you hurt yourself, it’s never serious enough to send you to the hospital. 

“When are you leaving?” You ask Shanks while packing beverages, muffins and a cake you’ve baked for today’s chosen group activity. 

“Let’s see, today’s Saturday, Beckman says his helper will arrive Monday morning to keep in charge of his farm, so sometime Monday afternoon, Bug. Why? Missing your Daddy already?”

You are.

“No! I just want to make sure you carry all of your medicine and that you have Dr. Law’s emergency contact with you, in case you need it–”

“I’m not going to drag Law all the way to the South Blue just because–”

“I called him and he said you should call anytime, so you’re going to call if you need him!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” Shanks has got to be the most stubborn man you’ve ever met. 

“Where are you going?” He hisses when you swat his hand away as he tries to steal a salty bacon muffin you’re storing in a container. Then you relent and let him have it.

“Just one, Dad! We’re going on a picnic in the park.” You say with a grin. “Nami organised it, of course. We’re going to spend the day hanging out, playing games, and socializing.” 

Shanks nods, never breaking your gaze, while trying to surreptitiously steal another muffin. This time you slap his hand with the lid of the container, and he yelps. His pout is quickly replaced by a smirk. “Is Officer Zoro going?”

You’re sure your nonchalant look can’t disguise the crimson blush tainting your cheeks, but you try to pay it no mind.  “Yes. And Luffy, and Usopp, Chopper, Sanji–”

“I was going to tell you to be careful, but I’m sure Officer Zoro is going to keep you safe from all harm.” Shanks taunts and you seethe, hands flying to your hips. 

“What are you, Dad, ten?” He guffaws as he successfully manages to distract you and steals another muffin before sprinting away from you and the kitchen.

“Be safe, Bug! Have fun!”

Seriously. How is this man a father?

-*-

Nami swings by your house with Vivi to pick you up for the picnic. You notice Robin’s absence in the car, and both girls giggle.

“Sabo’s picking Robin up. They’ll meet us there.” Vivi answers, and your mouth hangs open.

“Are they a thing?”

“Not yet, but it shouldn’t be long.” Nami laughs as she fixes her hair in the rearview mirror while waiting for the light to turn green. “Much like you and Zoro, I think.”

You choke on your own saliva, and it takes you a good minute to regain proper breathing functions, all while Nami and Vivi erupt into cackles and giggles. 

“We’re just friends!” You say after you’ve caught your breath.

“Sure, honey. We all believe that.” Vivi turns on the front seat to pat your knee in a condescending manner while you blush. 

“There’s so much heat coming off you two whenever you’re close that I don’t know how you still haven’t spontaneously combusted.” Nami quips, and you purse your lips. She’s not wrong there. “I mean, you’ve always sort of clicked, but now… daaaaamn!”

You sigh and bite your lip, trying to contain a giggle from erupting. “Who else is going to meet us there?” You ask, changing the subject and Nami shakes her head, knowing all too well what you’re doing, but not pressing on the matter. 

-*-

It’s a beautiful day for a picnic, and the park is the perfect setting for the beginning of a wonderful midday. There are rows and rows of trees, shade galore, small cobblestone pathways for long walks, and even a small creek providing a soft lull alongside the soft giggles of children. 

You and the girls are setting up rows of blankets on the grass, by the shade of the tall trees, when the group begins to arrive. You lift your head, hand sheltering your eyes from the sun, and scan the crowd. Luffy, Barto, Usopp, Kaya, and Chopper are approaching the treeline. They probably rode together.

A slight breeze dishevels your hair as your eyes linger behind, but there’s no green mane of hair in sight yet. An absent sigh leaves your lips before you spy Nami’s knowing smirk aimed your way.

She doesn’t say anything, but you blush anyway. Her unspoken words linger around you like a thick fog. You are eager to see Zoro. She knows it, you know it, hell, anyone who saw you two interact lately knows it. 

But you vow to retain some semblance of dignity and pretend to fuss over the blankets and small folding chairs. You’re so absorbed in your task that you don’t even see him approach.

“Hey there, Troublemaker, making trouble?”

The smile that graces your lips is instant and unstoppable. You turn slightly and bite your lower lip when your eyes meet his. Why does every shirt he wears seem so tight against his muscles?

“Hardly! I’m just setting up chairs!” But as you deliver the words, the chair you were opening snaps shut, almost catching your fingers, and you yelp. 

“You’re a menace.” His tone is both amused and resigned, almost as if he knew something of the kind would happen, was expecting it, even. 

“It attacked me!” You defend yourself weakly, a giggle bubbling up in your chest because he is right. You are a menace.

Zoro ends up helping you set the chairs, and you don’t even try to stop him. Both because you’re very likely to end up either hurting yourself or breaking a chair, and because he keeps brushing his shoulders and hands with yours, and the touch is welcomed. 

Robin and Sabo arrive with flushed cheeks - you can almost see Nami registering that fact for later probing - and soon after, Franky and Brook, two older men you still haven’t met but Luffy quickly introduces you to, saying they’re also part of the gang. 

You see Sanji already setting up food on the blankets, and he greets you warmly. “Hi, Sanji. You rode with Mosshead?”

“Oi?” Zoro snaps, and you ignore him.

“I did, Madame, and it was the most unpleasant ride of my life. Please remind me not to do it again.”

You giggle when Zoro’s brows knit together, his hands clenched into fists. “Tch, shitty cook, next time you ride with me, it will be in my patrol car and I’ll be dragging you straight to prison.”

Sanji starts to fume, his pursed lips crumpling the cigarette dangling from his lips, and you grimace. “Hey, hey, boys, it was just a joke!”

Nami sighs as they butt heads and continue arguing. “Never mind that.” She tells you. “Any chance they get to get up close and personal, they take it. They have a weird bromance thing going on.” She raises her hands defensively in the air. “I swear, for a moment there I thought they were going to be a thing, but Sanji loves women too much and Zoro is a man with a goal-oriented mind. Even if it’s someone he set his sights on a lifetime ago.”

Your brow raises at her as she smirks that all-knowing smirk. But she leaves it at that and stands in the middle of the boys, dragging Sanji by the scruff of his dress shirt, telling him the girls are hungry, which promptly sets him back to the task of setting up the food. 

“Shitty cook…” You hear Zoro mumble as he sets his hands in his pockets and kicks a blade of grass. It’s cute how flustered he gets. Then his eye sets on you and he frowns with a low grumble. “Oi, I didn’t forget you called me Mosshead.”

You set a hand on your heart, feigning repentance. “Oh, do forgive me, Mr. Mosshead. I forgot your title.”

“Trouble…” He lowers his tone in mock warning, and you smile, taking a step back, hands in a defensive stance. 

“Lord Moss, Knight–” Your antics are cut short by a piercing yelp when Zoro jumps and tries to catch you, but somehow, you swerve away from his grasp and start to run, an unbridled laugh filling your lungs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I was just joking!”

“Repentance doesn’t dissolve the crime! Come here, Trouble!” He sprints, though you suspect he’s hardly even trying, and you cackle, running faster, the voices of the group fading into the distance. 

“You’ll have to catch me first!” Maybe you should’ve measured your words, because as soon as he hears the challenging tone in your voice, he sprints faster, and you barely have time to breathe before his arm wraps around your waist and he swirls you in the air, making you scream and laugh before he pulls your back against his chest.

Heart pounding against your ribs, cheeks flushed from running and breath catching in your throat, you feel your legs shaking when Zoro’s warm breath tickles your neck. “Gotcha.” He whispers, and you notice he’s not even out of breath while you look like you ran a marathon. 

The world dissolves into just this moment. The chirping of the birds and the rustling of the trees are nothing but background noise to the deafening pounding in your chest and the buzzing in your ears. 

Turning your head slightly to the side, you catch Zoro’s eye fixed on you, a wild smirk on his lips. “What now, officer? Are you going to arrest me?”

Damn. That was supposed to come out playfully, not sultrily. Right?

“Depends.” Did his voice get huskier? “Are you going to resist arrest, Trouble?”

You feel your throat bobbing up and down at all the wild fantasies running through your mind. The way he uses that nickname manages to send shivers down your spine and heat straight into your core. 

“Obviously.” You sound breathless, and it's a good thing you can blame that sorry state on the run, or you wouldn't know how to explain it. 

“Figures.” He chuckles low, and you feel it rumbling in his chest. Then, with a swift movement, he turns you, bends his knees, and hoists you up, slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

“Wha–”

“Let's go.” Your flush deepens as you feel his strong hand against the back of your thighs, holding you in place. “The humiliation will teach you not to call me Mosshead.”

“Come on, Zo, I said I was sorry!” You whine, and he stiffens, his pace slowing for a beat, and you feel his shoulders shake slightly. Then he resumes his pace. 

“I like that.”

You stop pounding your fists against his back and raise your brow. “What? Me apologizing?”

He grunts and keeps walking, the blanket and your laughing friends nearly in sight. “That nickname. Way better than Mosshead.”

Oh! Zo! Another small blush creeps into your cheeks, but before you can reply, Nami whistles. “What you got there, Zoro?”

You hear your friends laughing and bury your face in your hands, feeling mortified. “Someone’s been naughty.” Zoro replies with a smirk and an edge of amusement in his tone. 

“Seriously?” You grumble, pushing against his back to try and wiggle out of his embrace, though it’s all for naught because he has an iron grip on your legs. 

“Well, either set her down so we can all eat or take her to naughty jail and punish her. Away from our sight, please.” 

“Nami!” You yell, exasperated, but Zoro merely chuckles, swerving right as if changing directions. 

“Naughty jail it is, then.”

“No, no!” You whimper. “I’m sorry!” Chopper stares at both of you, not sure if you’re being serious, so you try to take advantage of him and stretch your hand. “Help me, Chopper!”

He reaches his hand out before Nami swats it away. “Let them be, Chopper. They need some alone time.”

You seethe at Nami, a pout on your lips. “Traitor.”

Zoro lets out a low chuckle before settling you down at the edge of the blanket. “Learned your lesson, Troublemaker?”

You steady yourself, hands against his chest, and a permanent blush tattooed on your cheeks. “Damn you. I’m never calling you Mosshead again. You won.”

“I see you’re a fast learner.” His smirk is impossibly smug. “Zo’s fine, though.” Then he turns his back on you, opens the small cooler, and takes out a beer, cracking it open with one hand and chugging at it without another look back at you. 

And, damn it, if that doesn’t mess with your heart.

-*-

“Who wants another drink?” You ask and count the raised hands before getting up, heading towards the cooler to satiate your friends’ thirst. Zoro moves his hand before you reach it, and smooths the blanket before you can trip on its raised edge.

You smile at him, but he’s not even looking at you. His eye is shut, one arm behind his neck as he leans against the tree, though you know very well he’s attentive to everything. You pass the drinks around, then return to get your own.

“Watch your head.” Zoro mumbles, and you raise your brow but don’t heed his advice and, therefore, hit a low branch of the tree, releasing a string of curses while rubbing your forehead. “When are you going to start listening to me, Trouble?”

“When you stop sounding like a smug jerk.” You mouth, annoyed at his attentiveness and at how he seems to perceive danger before you even realise it’s there. He chuckles and you retrieve your drink, returning to your seat.

After a while of relaxing in the shade, Luffy drags everyone to a frisbee game. The boys are all down to play, but the girls just sit by a bench near the open space the boys chose to throw the frisbee and tackle each other. 

You sit on the back of the bench, a case of water bottles by your feet because you know the boys will be thirsty soon. Vivi sits on the grass in front of Nami’s legs, and Robin and Kaya are on the bench. 

After a small chit-chat about meaningless stuff, you decide to bring up something that’s been bothering you. “So I’ve been getting a lot of gifts lately…”

Four heads whip your way, and you sigh, already expecting that reaction and the bombardment of questions that follow. So you raise your hands, and they stop to let you continue. Though you decide to focus on the game in front of you instead of the way they’re all staring at you.

You especially focus on a very athletic green-haired man who constantly gazes up to where you are before focusing back on the game. 

“It’s flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals… It started last weekend, after the party at Luffy’s. They have notes, but nothing personal. No name, no nothing… I don’t know who they’re from, and I don’t even know if I should be flattered or freaked out by them.”

“How do they make you feel?” Robin asks, and you shrug, not quite knowing how to answer that question.

“The first ones made me feel good. I thought they were from– I thought I might know who they were from. But since he didn’t say anything about it, I doubt they're from him. So now they just feel weird…”

“Honey, we all know you’re talking about Zoro.” Nami says in a very condescending manner, and all the girls agree.

You sigh and bury your face in your hands. You’re so obvious it hurts. 

“Fine, yes. I thought they might’ve come from him, at first. But he’s not one for romantic gestures.”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly.” Nami quipped back, a smirk tugging her lips as her eyes fell back on the game. Sure enough, Zoro’s eyes are back on the bench - on you, to be more specific. “I think it’s quite romantic the way he’s always checking to see if you’re safe. Keeping you away from trouble and making sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

A small blush creeps its way into your cheeks. It is quite romantic. “That’s just Zoro being Zoro. He’s a cop. He protects and serves.” You roll your eyes.

“Oh, I’m sure he would like to serve you.” Nami giggles and all the girls try to stifle their own laughs. “But you’re wrong about that. Sure, he’s always attentive to any kind of threats, but it’s different with you.”

“What do you mean?” You can’t stop the way your heart pounds maddeningly against your sternum. 

“She means that Zoro doesn’t usually go out of his way to keep people from tripping on stuff or from bumping their head. And with you, he’s always extra careful.” Robin finishes with a small smile. 

“Like the way he’s playing now, but keeps looking at you to see if you’re still in one piece. It’s like he’s expecting you to spontaneously combust or something.” Kaya adds with a giggle. 

“It’s very endearing.” Vivi finishes, and your blush deepens, so you bury your head back into your hands, stifling a loud groan. 

“But you’re still right.” Nami continues as if you’re not breaking down in front of them. “I don’t think he’s the one leaving the gifts…” She laughs suddenly. “But there’s one way to tell for sure.”

You raise your head from your hand cocoon to tell her to keep her mouth shut, but Zoro is already halfway to the bench and you squeak. “Nami…”

“Hey, Zoro!” She starts with a wave of her hand. You see Zoro raise his eyebrow at her, his long strides bringing him closer to the bench. 

Shit.

He’s sweaty all over. Fat droplets of perspiration drop from his temples to his perfect jawline and neck, and you gulp, feeling hot and bothered. So, it comes as no surprise that when he reaches his hand to grab a bottle between your legs, you lose your balance and fall back on the bench.

Yelping, you expect to hit the floor with a dry thud, air escaping your lungs and sharp pain blinding you. Instead, you feel a strong hand wrap around your forearm and tug hard, then your face being squished against a muscular, sweaty chest.

Zoro saved you from an ugly fall. Again.

“Seriously, Trouble? Why?” His voice is gravelly and rough, but with an edge of exasperation lacing it. “I’m starting to feel like I have to be with you 24/7 or you’re going to end up in the hospital.”

Your breath is still leaving your lips in ragged gasps because of the slight scare of facing an inevitable fall, and your face is still pressed against Zoro’s chest. You feel the girls’ gaze on both of you and Zoro seems completely unfazed by it, while saying you’re embarrassed would be the understatement of the year.

So you disentangle yourself from the predicament that is Zoro’s muscles and laugh it off, a hand scratching the back of your neck. “Ah, thank you. I got… distracted.”

“By what?” He asks while taking a sip of water.

“Well, Zoro,” Nami begins, and he shifts his focus to her, “we were discussing who could be her secret admirer, and then you showed up. Curious.”

“Secret admirer?” Zoro’s gaze falls back on you, his brow scrunched.

“Ah, no. It’s nothing like that. It’s just–”

“She’s been getting gifts. Flowers, chocolates, love declarations…” Why is Nami exaggerating? Is she trying to fish for information or make Zoro jealous? “You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with it, would you?”

He drinks the water in three long gulps before answering, his scowl now permanently etched on his lips. “Do I look like the kind of guy who would do that?”

You look down and bite your lower lip. You knew it wasn’t him, but maybe, secretly, there was still a little part of you that hoped he could be showering you with that kind of attention. 

“Well, I just thought–” Nami begins, but she’s swiftly interrupted by Zoro, whose eyes can’t seem to leave your figure.

“When I want someone, I make it clear I’m interested. You’ll know.” He finishes drinking the water just as your eyes meet his, and the fire burning there scalds and melts. Was he telling you he’s interested? Was he saying he’s about to make a move?

With a smirk, he turns his back, grunts a gruff ‘try not to fall again, Trouble’, and gets back to the game, leaving you more confused than ever. 

“Did he–” Nami starts.

“Nobody says anything. We’re going to act like nothing happened.” You mumble before getting up and chugging down an entire bottle of water yourself to try and calm your nerves.

It doesn’t work.

-*-

The frisbee game makes everyone tired - and hungry - so, after all the bellies are filled again, the crew is relaxing in the blanket, enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon and the lulling sounds of the park. 

Chopper, Usopp, Luffy, and Barto are enjoying a card game. Franky seems interested, but he’s only overseeing and throwing advice that only seems to make Usopp lose the game. Robin has a book in her hands and Sabo’s head on her lap, his eyes closed with a blissful smile on his lips. 

You have serious doubts that she's paying attention to the book, especially since she seems to be stuck on the same page for over ten minutes, but you don’t say anything. Kaya is braiding Vivi’s hair and Nami is snapping photos of the crew, taking little candid shots with her cellphone. Brook is gracing everyone with a nice, mellow song on his violin - he's a wonderful musician - and Zoro seems to be sleeping peacefully, leaning against the tree.

Everything seems peaceful, quiet, and idyllic. 

But you can’t seem to shake the feeling of unease in the pit of your stomach. It’s like someone is watching you, but you can’t quite pinpoint who or where. It’s a prickling on your neck, something you’re already growing so used to that you start to think you should have this checked out by a doctor. 

With a heavy sigh, you stand up, stretching your arms to justify that action. “I’ll be back soon.” You say softly to Nami, who’s closer to you and she nods. Then, you look around before taking a step. The park is one big open space - with the exception of some trees here and there - except for the dense treeline behind you. 

So that’s where you’re headed. 

-*-

Zoro senses you getting up and opens his eye slowly, following you with his gaze and scowling when you don’t see the tree root sticking out and stumble a little before steadying your pace. 

You’re such a damn klutz.

And damn it, if he doesn’t want to be there to catch you and protect you from everything. 

His heart constricts slightly at the thought, and he sighs softly. He thought absence had made him forget how he felt about you. He even had some ‘relationships’ while you were away. Wait… can he really call something that never went past three months a real relationship? He never truly bonded with those women. Never truly cared.

No one ever made him feel the way you did.

The way you do.

But time and distance did nothing but make him pine harder for you. When Nami told him casually that you were returning, he almost didn’t believe her. You didn’t even come back for any of the holidays or to say ‘hi’, let alone come back for good after experiencing life in the big city. 

But you returned.

And then he thought he wouldn’t quite forgive you for having literally abandoned them. No text, no email, no letter, nothing. He would be salty, at least. Grumpy and upset, at most.

But he forgave you instantly. 

One look at your dishevelled form, chasing a goddamned tire with dirt all over your clothes and face, and he was a lovestruck teenager again. 

Fucking heart, what a useless organ. 

All those thoughts forgotten, he simply reached out. And you reached back, almost like no time had passed between you, and you could basically continue your story where you left off. 

And he was willing to try.

Though he didn’t want to rush too fast - damn Nami should just stop intruding and let you two figure things out yourselves. He’d get there. He almost kissed you already, so the feeling is mutual. 

He’s got time.

Sitting up, he watches as you peek behind trees, a cautious demeanour to your posture making him raise his brow. What the hell are you doing?

“Just go to her, dumbass.”

“Shut up, Witch. Mind your own business.”

Nami sticks her tongue out at him and snaps a picture of his grouchy face before turning her phone towards you and snapping another candid shot. 

“You look like a lost puppy in love. It’s cute, you know? The way you keep looking out for her.” Zoro feels his ears heat up and leans back again, trying to close his eye and return to a state of relaxation, but he can’t very well do that when you’re doing God-knows-what near the trees, looking creepily at everywhere and everything. “Just make sure you make your move soon… or maybe that secret admirer will one-up you and poof!” She makes an exploding gesture with her hand, and Zoro scowls at her. 

“You’re insufferable.” He quips before getting up and dusting his jeans.

“Word of the day? How smart of you, Zoro.” She giggles when Zoro passes by her and messes up her hair with his hand, earning an indignant gasp from the orange-haired girl. “I just went to the salon, you brute!”

Zoro smirks at her reaction and starts pacing towards you, Nami’s antics behind him. Well… all except one…

‘Make sure you make your move soon…’

Perhaps he should. He doesn’t want to lose you before even having the chance to have you.

Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks

|Chapter 4|

[myuni-moon]

SAGAU: Reboot (part 2)

cw: violence

You’re not exactly sure where you went wrong, but you find yourself detained in the Knights of Favonius Headquarters. Perhaps it was the fact that you had no self-identification to show the guards that stopped you on your way in, or maybe it was your suspicious-looking behavior as you blurted out you had memory loss and stumbled into Mondstadt– which is not entirely untrue. Either way, the ending is getting chained to a chair in a dimly lit office with no way of explaining or protecting yourself.

You sigh, leaning back into your chair. The manacle around your wrist rubs against your skin, its chains clanging with your movement. Your current location is devoid of any windows, and you wouldn’t be able to tell if you were above or underground. The door is most definitely locked because you’d heard it click after you were left here. Furniture is also sparse; other than the one you’re currently occupying, only a metal table and another chair sit in front of you.

A candle is perched on the surface, illuminating your space enough for you to get the general idea that you are most probably in some kind of interrogation room. If you were to look under the table you are tied to, you’re sure you would see its legs bolted or nailed into the ground. Very characteristic of the cop movie you once stayed up to watch a few months back. Now that you think about it, you never really got to finish it. You passed out halfway in.

Just before the existential crisis of being locked up in the dark permeates your system, the door creaks open. The sound reminds you of the front door of your grandparents’ house– rickety yet unnerving. Your head snaps up in response. The silhouette of a man enters, and you silence a gasp threatening to escape your parted mouth.

The voice that accompanies it is mellow, deep and harmonic despite the annoyance in tone. “Look, it’s too early in the day for this. So do me a favor and just cooperate.”

Blue hair. Eyepatch. Pupils in the shape of a four-pointed star. Fluffy scarf.

You don’t know if you want to laugh or cry because Kaeya Alberich is standing in front of you with a scowl and irritation apparent in his voice. On one hand, this could very well be your salvation if you played your cards right. On another, Kaeya may just be one of the many characters you wish to never be with in this circumstance.

He doesn’t even bother to look at you, gaze scanning through a folder poised in his grasp. Kaeya just sits across from you in the once vacant seat, and you feel queasiness dance in your stomach.

“I am the Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius. You are currently detained for suspicious behavior, according to reports.”

He sounds so monotone– uninterested and exasperated. It’s not at all like the Kaeya you’re used to seeing. Typically, he’s playful and sly which leans into the trickster role most players know him for. Just like everything you’ve experienced thus far, you’re stuck in a state of liminality. You’re teetering between the recognizable and the unknown.

It fills you with dread because you’re acutely aware that you have no understanding of the Kaeya before you.

“It says you entered Mondstadt this morning. When questioned for identification, you were unable to procure any documentation.” He raises a brow pointedly. “You claimed you had memory loss and came to the city for answers after seeing it from the forest you woke up in the northeast of the city– which would be the Whispering Woods. Is that all?”

You nervously blink, “Uh, yes?”

He throws the folder haphazardly onto the table. His actions are very unlike him. This Kaeya doesn’t seem to hide behind any carefree or cunning façade. He’s supposed to be somewhat refined, not at all openly aggressive. You expect him to play you like a fiddle, manipulate you into giving him the answers he wants behind coy smiles and faked enthusiasm. But he isn’t, and it’s making your skin crawl.

“I’m surprised they even put you up for interrogation,” he scoffs, “if it were me, you would’ve been killed on the spot.”

You freeze. “Excuse me?”

This is definitely not Kaeya. You tell yourself he mustn’t be. If he were, he wouldn’t actually hurt someone so suddenly. He didn’t even attack the traveler the first time they appeared, so why would he kill you out of the blue?

He clicks his tongue. “Don’t play dumb.”

Except you aren’t. You’re busy trying to reason out Kaeya’s shift in behavior.

He’s not supposed to be hostile– to a powerless civilian, at least. You have no way of protecting yourself, and you don’t have a vision or weapon. You pose no major threat, given you were easily detained; you don’t possess any valuable information that he could want either.

His earlier statement seemed personal, however. If it were up to him, you would’ve already been dead. He hasn’t done anything yet because something is stopping him, and he’s pissed about it.

You take a deep breath and decide to weigh your options. Your first option is to tell the entire truth about your understanding of the world you’ve found yourself in, and you’re not so sure what benefits that could give you. What you do know is that he could possibly take it as an excuse and send you to a worse fate than being sent to a video game.

The second option is, well, to play dumb. Answer all his questions while concealing the fact that you’re not from Teyvat. Truthful but not completely honest. Honestly, it’s your best bet. It’s the only choice you have that has an opportunity for a brighter outcome. You bite your lip, carefully picking the words about to come out of your mouth.

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You meet his sharp gaze, and a fury burns behind his pupil. It takes a lot in you not to quiver when the chair from under him squeaks against the floor as he abruptly stands. Kaeya’s strides are slow, his heels clicking against the stone floor. He rounds the corner over to you; your heart drums with his every step.

When you look up at him, you find the devil standing in front of you. The space between you two is only an arm’s length. A bitter laugh escapes his lips. “Who do you think you’re kidding, huh?

“First, the traveler disappears without a trace. No one can contact them, not even that damn dragon.” What? “Then you show up within our walls, wearing their face. You have to know what you’re doing. Just what are you pests planning?” Whose face is he talking about? What does he mean by “pests?”

A burning pain spreads across your scalp, causing you to cry out. His hand has come to pull at your hair, forcing your head into an uncomfortable bend. Fear twists its way to your neck in the form of Kaeya’s palm pressing against your throat. Just a little more pressure and he could restrict your airflow completely.

“I don’t care if you’re involved with them or mocking us, I don’t think you’re leaving this room alive.”

[darkmagyk]

percabeth baby fic/teacher au!

“Constantinople.” Jason said. Ms. Dare nodded, meaning Jason had gotten the question right. He glanced at Dr. Chase to see if she had noticed, if she would give the little nod of approval that all guys on the Jupiter School quiz bowl team craved.

But Dr. Chase wasn’t even looking at them. She and Mr. Jackson, the Juno’s Academy coach, were talking in a low voice, Mr. Jackson showing Dr. Chase something on her phone that was making her frown.

“The 2015 hit movie King of Sparta features this Hollywood leading man?” Mr. Pace asked.

Jason knew this one, he had seen all 4 King of Sparta movies…

Piper, the cutest of the Juno girls, rang in first, and hung her head even as she said “Tristan McLean.”

“Correct.” Ms. Dare said. She glanced down at her tablet to look at the next question, but she was stopped because Mr. Jackson had walked back over to their quiz bowl scrimmage, and put a hand on her shoulder. He leaned down and whispered something to both Ms. Dare and Mr. Pace. Who both nodded.

“I’ll be back,” He said, mostly addressing his Juno students. “I have to go run an errand really quickly.”

Then he left. But it meant Dr. Chase could redirect her attention to the team.

Mr. Jackson was not back through another 2 rounds. But Jason got the coveted Dr. Chase nod 3 times for answering the math questions correctly.

They were nearly tied up, though Jason had just face palmed when Connor had answered “What city was helped by the French, Spanish, and French again before being sold to the United States?” with “Montreal.” Much to Frank and Hazel, who got the answer “New Orleans” correct, chagrin, when Mr. Jackson came back. He was not alone.

In one hand he held a baby carrier were a sleeping infant in a blue onesie and blue beanie, wrapped in a blue knit blanket was laying. On the other side, a slightly older child, but still probably a toddler, was resting on his hip. And trailing after him was a slightly older girl, maybe 4 or 5.

“Sorry, everyone,” He said, “babysitter had an emergency.”

“Isn’t your babysitter Fred?” Mr. Pace asked.

Mr. Jackson nodded.

“What kind of emergency do history professors have?”  Ms. Dare asked.

Mr. Jackson shrugged, “Well, everyone,” He nodded to the teams, “this is Junie,”

The oldest girl waved, but then ran to Ms. Dare, giving her a hug. Which might have confirmed the rumor he had heard from Reyna and Hazel, that Mr. Jackson and Ms. Dare were a couple, if not for the fact that Junie then immediately also hugged Mr. Pace.

“Lucie,” Mr. Jackson said. Setting the very very blonde toddler down on the floor. She stood on a second of slightly unsteady legs, before she found her balance and waved with a wide grin, adding “Hi.”

“And hopefully Sofie will stay asleep.” He slung a bag, a diaper bag Jason guessed, off his shoulder, and started opening it, digging out some duplo blocks and a coloring book and some crayons. With a little bit of effort, and Dr. Chase’s help, the older girls were set up in two of the desks, with the toys, and then they refocused on the practice.

“What three Roman gods made up the Capitoline Triad?”

Oh, good, Jason knew this one. He hit his buzzer.

“Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva.” Everyone looked over where the oldest girl. Junie, was grinning at them, having answered the question.

“Sweetie,” Mr. Jackson said, “this is practice for the big kids. Why don’t you finish coloring a picture for my desk.”

Jason glanced to the back corner of the room where Mr. Jackson’s desk was, and now he could see what looked like a dozen children’s drawing and coloring pages.

“But I’m right,” She said.

“You are,” Ms. Dare agreed, not hiding her smile at all.

“Let’s keep going,” Dr. Chase said.

And then Mr. Pace asked his next question.

“Falling on December 20th or 21st, what is the shortest day of the year?”

“Winter Solstice.”

“Junie,” Mr. Jackson said again, “if you answer all the questions, they students can’t learn.”

“Ok,” She said. Going back to her coloring.

Ms. Dare turned to the next question, “Finished in 1936, this public works project was one of many used to hire people during the great depression.”

Jason paused, he knew this one, it was on the tip of his tongue. Leo’s buzzer beat him to it.

“Hoover Dam.” Mr. Jackson’s daughter said.

“Annabeth Jackson,” And that was Dr. Chase, who Jason knew’s first name was Annabeth. It was an unusual name. Had Mr. Jackson named his daughter after Dr. Chase? “It’s ok to know you’re smart. You don’t have to prove it.”

“Like mother, like daughter.” Ms. Dare joked. Mr. Pace laughed, Dr. Chase shot her a glare.

“Next question.” Mr. Jackson offered.

“Right, yeah,” Mr. Pace read the next question, “What name could you give to an Empire that lasted from 1299 to 1919, or to a small piece of upholstered furniture.”

Oh, that one was easy, too.

“Otto Min.” It wasn’t Junie Jackson who spoke this time. It was the younger one. Lucie. She waved when she saw everyone was looking at her.

Dr. Chase sighed, but Ms. Dare and Mr. Pace broke into a giant about of laughter.

“It’s ok,” Mr. Jackson said, patting Dr. Chase on the shoulder. “She’s just jealous they’ll be on my team when they get older.”

“We’ll win, Daddy,” Junie announced.

“Absolutely,” Mr. Jackson said.

“Did you marry me just to create the ultimate quiz bowl champions?” Dr. Chase asked Mr. Jackson.

“Yep,” Mr. Jackson said.

“I knew it.” Piper announced. She turned to her team, “you all owe me $20.”

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

I keep seeing people worship Christian Linke for some shit he’s said and ignore the fact this man is antisemetic and heavily insensitive towards non white and straight characters HE IS NOT YOUR ALLY

I genuinely think people just don't know how much of a shitty person he is. Seriously, that dude was quite possibly the worst person to put in charge of a project like Arcane. Here are just some of things he's said that you should know of:

• Linke said the death of every character in Arcane was a direct result of their own actions : "Every single big beat in the end with our characters, whether it’s a death or not, is a consequence of their choices."

So, I'd like you to explain to me how Vander's death was his fault, because I don't quite remember him agreeing to becoming Warwick. Also, maybe having the three characters portrayed as suicidal in the show (Jinx, Viktor, and Jayce) all die, and go on to say it was just the consequences of their own actions... isn't a good message?

• Linke has declared Viktor as asexual on his own, with the sole purpose of discouraging JayVik shippers : "There is a love. I don't think it's romantic [...]. To me, Viktor was always asexual".

Now, the issue here isn't having an asexual character, its having chosen VIKTOR, one of the most important characters for disabled rep in animation and popular media, to be asexual. I've went on and on about how infantalizing that is to disabled/chronically ill fans, because we NEVER get to be perceived as sexual beings. Having a body that's visibly different from the norm, or limits on certain abilities, turns off people, makes them uncomfortable. That's why you just never see a sexually active or a sex positive disabled character on screen. That's why, in all his "sexy" skins in LoL, Viktor is given a six pack, has no visible marks of illness on his body (scars, fatigue lines), and has no medical brace or crutch.

Viktor was always intended to have a sexual swagger in season 1 ("this isnt my bedroom") and that was EXTREMELY important to a lot of us in the community. I've seen a very similar response from the asexual community as well, who feel like Linke is using their identity and experience as a shield from fan interractions he dislikes, and without actual care for what it means to the characters. Don't fall for rep that isn't actually meant to represent you.

• Linke has directly and openly compared the Zaun and Piltover conflict to the left and right in the United States, and put both sides on equal moral footing : "If you’re asking me whether we were inspired by two sides of one nation who are incapable of even talking to each other anymore at a certain point, yes."

So, I don't think I need to explain how bad this is. Remember that Piltover is the city of wealth and enforcers, and that they've gazed the district of Zaun, dumped chemicals around their water suplies, directed brutal and deadly repressions of civil uprising and protest, offered no financial support to the struggling communities of addicts, disabled people, and orphans, refused Zaun any implication or decisional seat in the city political life, AND THAT'S JUST ON TOP OF MY HEAD. Now, think about what that means with the USA politics comparison, and the idea that they should "just listen to each other". Yeah.

Now, if you know me a bit, you know I live in Canada, so maybe you think this doesn't affect me personally, or that it doesn't affect you because you live outside the US. To that, I want to tell you about a neighbour of mine, who lives on the street parallel to my house, and this truck he owns. The truck has a whole lot of fun stickers and flags on it: the quotes "TRUMP ARREST TRUDEAU" and "CANADIANS FOR TRUMP", the israeli flag, the confederate flag, christian crosses, the blue lives matter flag, and an anti BLM sticker. Now, I'm sure theres more cool things, I've just never gotten close enough to look at the smaller stickers and ornaments because, as a very openly bi arabic woman, I'm scared to death of that man. But maybe I should just hear him out, right?

Tldr, do not think that the state of american politics doesn’t affect the rest of the world.

• Linke has called the people of Zaun and specifically Silco "Svengali", which is an antisemitic name that implies Jewish people are crooks / dirty / thiefs / sexual degenerates. There's a great post on Tumblr that goes more into detail about this (https://www.tumblr.com/endearing-dalliance/769693230696677376/another-blow-against-arcane-anti-semitism?source=share). I'd just like to insist on how bad calling someone "svengali" is. His character was used in many pieces of propaganda in Nazi Germany to picture the "Evil Jew", and to dehumanize Jewish communities by portraying them as ressembling Satan (forked beard, can do unholy hypnosis, targets women...). Linke could have chosen ANY other term to talk about Zaunites, the oppressed community getting gazed by a police state, but he chose that one. That was not an unconscious decision.

I'm a firm believer that it is possible to separate art from artist/studio/company, and to appreciate something while still being aware the person behind it is not a great individual. However, if you're defending all the decisions made in season 2, these are things you HAVE to be aware of.

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 15: HUMMINGBIRD

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader

It’s not like Satoru can help it. He’s been very good since you decided to stay. Really, he has been. He keeps his hands to himself. He doesn’t make it too obvious when he stares at your ass.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: angst, oral sex (f receiving), edging, fingering, gagging, mentions of sexual assault

ੈ✩ wc: 8k

ੈ✩ a/n: the more i write this fic the more they scream divorced couple. maybe next chapter ill let reader beat satoru with sticks

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

October, 2011

The clatter of dishes punctuates the heavy silence falling over the kitchen. You watch Satoru carefully, noting the tension in his broad shoulders as he wipes his hands on a dish towel, his piercing blue eyes avoiding yours. The playful demeanor that usually adorned his features is noticeably absent, replaced by a melancholy that made the air between you almost tangible.

He says your name, his voice steady but weighted with an urgency that demands your full attention. He clears his throat. 

“About Megumi and Tsumiki…"

His words hang in the room, and you feel a knot tighten in your stomach. You push your half-eaten breakfast aside and lean back, arms crossed, readying yourself for whatever confession is about to spill from him.

"I know who they are, Satoru," you prompt, tone laced with curiosity and apprehension. “I want to know why they’re with you.”

Satoru exhales slowly, as if bracing himself against an invisible storm. 

"When I... when I defeated Toji Fushiguro, he warned me. He knew the Zenin clan would come for his son because of his technique— which they'd exploit without hesitation." His gaze flickers to yours, searching for understanding. "It's been a few years now, and the time is approaching. I couldn't let that happen to him.”

You absorb his words, feeling the gravity of the situation settle over you like a shroud. A gifted child and a vulnerable girl—alone in a world riddled with darkness and greed. Satoru's protective instincts were clear, yet something gnawed at you, a lingering frustration that clawed its way up your throat.

"So you took them in," you state flatly, your voice betraying the anger simmering beneath the surface. "But you left them alone, Satoru. Alone, for days. And a cursed spirit attacked them because of it!"

He flinches slightly at your accusation, the dish towel crumpling in his grasp. 

"I know, and I can't undo that mistake," he replies, his usual confidence faltering as he faces your ire. "But I'm here now, and I won't let anything else happen to them."

Your heart wrestles with the conflict of emotions—anger, concern, and an undeniable sense of loyalty to the man before you. Satoru's intentions were noble, even if his actions were flawed.

"Fine," you concede through gritted teeth, your support given begrudgingly. "I understand. The children shouldn't suffer for the ambitions of the Zenin clan."

Satoru's eyes soften, the gratitude evident in his expression. "Thank you. This means more than you know."

Yet, as you stand there amidst the emotional wreckage, you couldn't shake the sense of unease that clung to you, a shadow of doubt that whispered of complications yet to come. What the hell were you even doing here? None of this was your business, but there are roots in this city that lead to Satoru, whether you like it or not.

With two kids getting involved in that, you have trouble with the idea of going back to your life in Kyoto, even if you’ve only been around for a few days. You trust Satoru more than you’re willing to admit, but you aren’t sure if you trust him enough��to leave him as a guardian by himself.

The morning light filters through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over the remnants of breakfast. Satoru leans back against the counter, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that feels almost palpable.

"So," he ventures carefully, "How long do you plan to stay?"

You hesitate, your gaze drifting towards the window where the bustling streets of Tokyo seem to call out to you. A mix of longing and uncertainty knots in your chest. 

You missed the frenetic energy of the city, the comfort of familiar places, and the faces of those you held dear—especially Shoko. Her dry humor and blunt advice were sorely absent in Kyoto. You missed… Satoru.

"I wasn’t going to stay.”

“You don’t actually like it better there, do you?” Satoru raises a brow. “I fucking hate going there for the clan.”

“I do,” you lie.

“Come on.”

“Okay, Kyoto was... a trial in independence," you admit, your words laced with both nostalgia and regret. "But Tokyo has always been home. I do kind of miss it."

Satoru's expression shifts, a spark of hope flashing across his features. 

"Then stay a little longer," he suggests eagerly. "Help with Megumi and Tsumiki."

You weigh the offer, your heart tugging you in directions you hadn't anticipated. The children needed stability, something you could provide, even if temporarily.

"Alright," you say quietly, the decision surprising even yourself. "A little longer. Maybe a week. I’ll have to call Utahime and Gakuganji–"

“I can handle it.”

“Um… okay.”

"Great!" His smile broadens. "You can have the extra room—no charge—or the apartment below if you'd prefer more privacy."

“What, it’s just vacant?” you raise a brow.

“It’s a pretty new building. And you know I can pay for it.”

The idea of living under the same roof as Satoru stirs an array of emotions within you. Despite everything, the thought of being close was undeniably appealing.

"The room will do," you respond.

__

You find normalcy over the next few days at the Gojo/Fushiguro household. The rhythm of life with Megumi and Tsumiki becomes a comforting pattern – you and Satoru take turns picking them up from school. The both of you go to Jujutsu Tech together during the day and he tries his best to leave you alone to whatever studies you’re able to do on the Tokyo campus.

You get to know Nanami a bit more, thankful for his company whenever Satoru’s presence is a bit overwhelming. The sorcerer seems to be hovering over you more often than not, to your dismay. The push and pull between you is back, the tension never having left since the Tanabata festival.

Satoru is good at controlling himself. He doesn’t provoke you outright, but there are… things that he does on purpose.

The first day you’re back at Jujutsu Tech, he comes into Shoko’s workspace three times within two hours to “check” on the two of you. The first two times are welcomed, innocent enough to you, but the third time, Shoko yells at him to get out when she’s showing you and some first-years the dissection of a frog.

At home, he’s most definitely trying to impress you. He insists on cooking, which is only successful every other time. You’ve never seen him this eager to make a home cooked meal considering his penchant for takeout. More than once, you’ve caught him napping on the couch with Megumi leaning on him, and it makes your heart swell up so big that it could probably burst out of your chest. The bastard.

The thing that almost makes you snap is his insistence on his late-night showers after classes and missions. Once the kids are off to bed, you’re usually trying to make yourself useful by tidying up. Playing the role of a domestic partner to Satoru was not one that you expected of yourself — not now, at least — so why exactly are you fussing over doing his laundry?

It’s not like he even puts on clothes after his showers. He just loves to hang around in only a towel, often passing by your room to ask you an innocent question while droplets of water cascade his chest, and you’re caught off guard every fucking time. And he knows it.

It’s not like Satoru can help it. He’s been very good since you decided to stay. Really, he has been. He does tend to stare at you longingly, just like he used to, but you’re usually preoccupied with other things, like handling the kids or engaging in your studies. He keeps his hands to himself. He doesn’t make it too obvious when he stares at your ass. 

He’s being good. But it’s in his nature to fuck with you a little.

So he starts touching you more often, too. Wakes up earlier than you (he doesn’t sleep much anyway, apparently) to make you coffee the way you like in the morning, just in his boxers. Sometimes he uses the travel shampoo you bought just so you can get a whiff of him and feel very, very confused. The way you pinch your brows each time your body gives in just a little bit is priceless.

It’s satisfying for him, to say the least. Especially since he can’t help but think of you when he’s in the shower, ruining the shower tiles after he fists his cock at the thought of you like he’s sixteen again. He almost feels bad since the bathroom is connected to both your room and his. 

Well, what you don’t know won’t hurt.

You’re smart, though. You catch on very quickly to his attempts at getting attention from you and ignore Satoru when you realize. It’s almost devastating when you don’t look at him anymore.

One night, he’s particularly antsy. He’d convinced Nanami to go to some happy hour with him just so he could talk all about you and mildly tell him that you’re off-limits. When he comes up behind you while you’re cooking dinner, you smell the artificial sweetness of some fruity liquor. He places his hand on your hip.

“There’s my little housewife.”

You look at him, your expression completely blank. 

“And who are you talking to?” you respond coolly.

He chuckles. “Just kidding. Whatcha makin’?”

“Yaki udon.”

“Oooh. Need any help?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Aww, come on,” Satoru pouts. “S’the least I can do.”

“Not when you’re tipsy.”

“Ah, you caught that, huh?” He leans against the corner and grins cheekily. “Just had a drink with Nanami-kun. He’s been a great help on some missions lately.”

You hum as you stir the noodles.

“He’s handsome, isn’t he? Save for that emo-ass haircut–”

“Satoru,” you say his name sharply.

“Yes?”

“What do you want?”

“Nothing,” he asks, his lashes batting innocently. “Just making conversation.”

“Okay, well… can you leave me alone in the kitchen? You’re kind of driving me insane here.”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Anything for you,” he mutters under his breath.

You’d have to crack eventually.

__

October, 2008

Gojo was getting a little clingy. He loved having you over, loved handling you like some kind of ragdoll just because he could. In his head, it was making up for all the times he avoided you like the plague. He had you wrapped around his finger – you let him fuck you for all these months, didn’t you?

It was probably the longest he’d ever been with someone. You were basically a girlfriend at this point, or so Suguru liked to tease him. The word girlfriend left an odd taste in his mouth.

But sure, he could pretend. He acts like a boyfriend, maybe. Chases you around the corridors like he used to when he was a kid, only to pin you down to his bed, skirt up. He likes to bite at the ankle of your leg whenever you ignore him while you’re in his bed. 

He was such a teenager about you, but that was his right. He’s young . Both of you could be a little lovesick if you wanted to be. He wasn’t thinking too far into the future anyway. 

But there are moments when you look at him like you’re in love and it fucking terrifies him.

Because he leans into it, too. His kisses with you are longer, his touches lingering. He’s started to get antsy if you’re in the room and he’s not touching you. It’s an itch that won’t go away. He wants to keep you all for himself — that’s why he doesn’t tell you about Shoko’s party.

She had an inkling about the two of you. Satoru always acted like an idiot, but Shoko knew him long enough to see that something was different. She wanted to properly spend time with you, so she said. And you could, Satoru reasoned. Just not in his house full of intoxicated people, comprised mostly of other boys from school.

The thought of you surrounded by other men made his stomach churn. He pictured their eyes on you, their hands reaching out to touch what was his. No, he couldn't allow that. 

He knew he had it bad ever since last week. 

Suguru’s hair was growing past his collarbone and you offered to cut it for him. It was stupid how Satoru couldn’t stand it – the way your delicate fingers combed through Suguru’s dark hair. His boyish grin while you stood above him with kitchen scissors, blades of black cascading down his bare back. Satoru couldn’t help but think that you looked perfect together.

He knew Suguru was no competition — you were Satoru’s, and he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else. That fact alone was odd. He’d never been with anyone who was a virgin before. Knowing that he was the first to touch you at all made him dizzy — he still remembered how wet you were the first time, even though he had only kissed you once before.

At the moment, his face nuzzles your belly as you read on a chaise lounge in the Gojo den. He was annoying you, pulling your shirt up, nipping at your skin. You’d swat him away, but there was no use. There’d be pink welts, love-shaped bite marks. Clan blessings.

You were stubborn as always, but he liked the chase. Everyone else would fold too easily — there was no game. With you, there always was. He was addicted.

“Can I eat you?”

“No.”

“Please?”

You snap his name and he grins to spite you, his hands tickling the meat of your thighs anyway.

“Fine,” he huffs. “Did you think about what I said?”

You feign ignorance, barely peering at him. “About?”

“About school. ”

He needed you at Jujutsu Tech. It was better than you being stuck at his estate. No one at the local colleges would be enough for you. Satoru imagined you with human boys, ones at the bottom end of the spectrum in which he was at the top. They’d take you for granted. He couldn’t bare the thought of any of them fucking you with clumsy, sweaty hands. Unpracticed rolls of the hips, fish mouths. It made him sick.

“No, I haven’t thought about it.”

He rolls his eyes. He looks up at you, then. At your lips.

“Please. ”

“Don’t beg,” you smirk. His eyes flicker and narrow. He wanted you beneath him, pressed into his bed. As much as he was mildly pissed off, your tone was different. It made his insides burn. 

Satoru's eyes darken, a mischievous glint dancing in their depths. In one fluid motion, he rises from his position at your feet, his body moving with a predatory grace. His hands find your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulls you closer.

"Don't tease me," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. The book you were reading clatters to the floor, forgotten.

Your breath hitches as Satoru's lips graze your neck, his teeth nipping gently at the sensitive skin. You could feel the tension radiating off him, a mix of desire and frustration that made your heart race.

"I'm not teasing," you whisper, but your voice trembles slightly, betraying your own growing arousal.

You gasp as his fingers ghost over your center, the thin fabric of your underwear doing little to mask the heat emanating from your core. Satoru's other hand tangles in your hair, pulling your head back to expose more of your neck to his hungry mouth.

"Satoru," you breathed, your hands clutching at his shoulders. "Your mom’s home. We can’t—"

He lifts his head, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours. "Why not? Just be quiet. She never comes in here anyways." His fingers continue their teasing exploration, making you squirm beneath him. "Besides, I thought you liked a little risk."

As his hands roam your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake, you can't help but wonder if he realizes just how much you belonged to him - and how dangerously close you were to stealing his heart in return.

“You love me, right?” he breathes. You look at him with wide eyes, unable to speak.

You could only nod dumbly.

Satoru pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze intense and searching. "Then say you'll come to Jujutsu Tech. Be with me."

You hesitate, torn between the allure of his offer and your own uncertainties. "Satoru, I-"

But before you can finish, his mouth is on yours, hot and demanding. His kiss is bruising, possessive, as if he could convince you through sheer force of will. Your hands find their way into his hair, tugging gently as you return the kiss with equal fervor.

When you finally break apart, both panting, Satoru rests his forehead against yours.

"I need you there," he says, his voice low and raw. "I can't stand the thought of you being anywhere else."

You close your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words, of his touch. Part of you wanted to give in, to let yourself be swept away by his passion. But another part held back, wary of losing yourself completely in Satoru Gojo.

He was serious. It would kill him — he said it with his eyes. He always spoke in hyperboles. He was allowed as such, his own existence larger than life itself.

"Let me think about it," you murmur, running your fingers along his jaw. "Please?"

Satoru groans softly, clearly unsatisfied with your response. But he nods instead, pressing one more kiss to your lips before pulling away.

"Fine," he says, his tone a mixture of resignation and determination. "But don't take too long. I'm not known for my patience."

As if to emphasize his point, he scoops you up in his arms, ignoring your startled yelp. "Now," he grinned, all boyish, "I believe I asked if I could eat you earlier."

Your protests dissolve into laughter as he carries you upstairs towards his bedroom, the unresolved tension between you momentarily forgotten. He loved playing with you, pulling your hair. He liked the way you yipped like a puppy when his tongue was carving out your cunt, imprinted with the tender muscle. Swirling heart shapes in between the ribboned folds.

He could feel how close you were already from the way your pussy twitched underneath him, his drool mixing with your arousal. When you’re right at the brink, he stops.

“Satoru!” you hiss.

“Say you’ll go to Jujutsu Tech with me.”

“Are you – are you edging me over this?”

“Sure am,” he grins, his mouth wet with you. Your throat dries up. He was always doing this lately to get what he wanted. 

“You’re fucked up.”

“You like it,” he murmurs, licking your clit teasingly. Smirking as your body seizes up.

“You’re insufferable,” you grit. “And entitled–”

“Keep going. I like it when you’re mean to me.” He presses his cheek against your damp thigh. “It gets me hard.”

You scoff. “If you don’t wanna fuck, we don’t have to.”

“You don’t mean that, baby. You want to come, don’t you?” He plunges his fingers into you, hooking into the soft spot that makes your eyes roll back. 

“Satoru—”

“Shit, you’re wet. I could make you feel so good if you weren’t being such a brat.”

“How am I the one being a brat when — hah –” Your breath hitches when he pulls the pleasure out of you. Summoning lightning. 

“You wanna come or not?” he taunts. “Yes, fuck— okay, okay, I’ll… I’ll enroll—”

He pauses, his face lighting up eagerly. “Really?”

“No,” you huff, kicking him off of you with your foot. “But I might. I need to figure out my technique a little more.”

“I’ll train you.”

You roll your eyes and straddle him, pawing at the bulge straining against his pants. He looks at you, love-struck, face red as your other hand grabs his chin forcefully. 

“You still wanna fuck?” you ask, pulling off your soiled underwear. 

“Fucking obviously—” He gets cut off by you stuffing his mouth with your panties. His face flushes as red as a tomato when you unzip his pants and palm him.

“I’ll fuck you if you stop being so annoying. That means you stop pestering me. And you can train me on my terms. ”

Satoru nods slowly, eyes glazed over. You feel him throb against your hand and you smile. 

__

October, 2011

You find yourself alone in the apartment. Megumi and Tsumiki are at a sleepover, and Satoru is out on a mission. The silence is both a relief and oddly unsettling after days of constant company.

You decide to take advantage of the solitude, drawing a hot bath and sinking into the steaming water with a contented sigh. The scent of yuzu soap relaxes you. The tension in your muscles begins to melt away as you close your eyes, allowing your mind to wander.

Unbidden, thoughts of Satoru float to the surface. The sky-blue of his eyes, the curve of his smile, the way his muscles ripple beneath his shirt when he moves. You squeeze your eyes shut tighter, trying to banish the images, but they persist, growing more vivid with each passing moment.

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't hear the front door open, or the soft footsteps approaching the bathroom. It's only when Satoru's voice cuts through the silence that you jolt back to awareness.

"Oh, sorry! I didn't realize you were in here."

Your eyes fly open to see Satoru standing in the doorway, his hair tousled from the wind and a faint flush on his cheeks. His gaze roams over you for a split second before he averts his eyes, but not before you catch the hungry look that flashes across his face.

"It's fine," you manage to say, your voice slightly strained. "I'll be out in a minute."

Satoru nods and retreats, closing the door behind him. You let out a shaky breath, your heart racing. The bathwater suddenly feels too hot, your skin flushed and tingling.

You step out of the tub and wrap yourself in a towel, acutely aware of how the soft fabric clings to your damp skin. Taking a deep breath, you open the door and step into the hallway.

Satoru is there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His eyes lock onto yours, and the intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine.

"I thought you were on a mission," you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Finished early," he replies, his voice low and husky. "Wanted to come home."

The word 'home' hangs in the air between you, laden with unspoken meaning. You're hyper-aware of how close he is, the heat radiating from his body.

You run your tongue over your teeth, feeling small under his gaze. His blue eyes are unfaltering, boring into you so intensely that you feel branded. Head waterlogged from the weight of it. 

You know what he’s thinking – you can see the longing in his eyes. It seemed that Satoru decided to cut the bullshit for once, letting his desire flow freely. He doesn’t say a word about his desire, still, but you can tell he’s sick of flirting. Like the ice king he could be, he demands presence by simply looking at you.

It makes your stomach flip the way it used to. You always lie to yourself, convinced you can resist him after all these years. You’re both breathing a little too hard. You notice a maroon streak of blood underneath the loose collar of his shirt and inhale sharply.

“I made soba if you’re hungry.” Your voice is as thin as a willow. “It’s in the fridge.”

Satoru smiles. “Thanks.”

Your face is still warm from the bath, feverish from the hot water. He looks predatory and pleased, making you feel pent-up and fidgety. Touch-starved.

You nod curtly and slip past him, your damp skin brushing against the fabric of his shirt. The brief contact sends electricity crackling through your body, and you hurry to your room, closing the door behind you with a soft click.

Your heart pounds as you lean against the door, listening to Satoru's footsteps retreating down the hallway. You take a deep breath, willing your pulse to slow. With trembling hands, you dress in loose pajamas, the soft cotton a stark contrast to the lingering heat on your skin.

When you finally emerge from your room, you find Satoru in the kitchen, heating up the soba you prepared earlier. He's changed into a simple white t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair still slightly mussed. The domesticity of the scene strikes you, and for a moment, you allow yourself to imagine what it would be like if this were your everyday reality.

"Want some?" Satoru asks, gesturing to the steaming bowl in front of him.

You shake your head, moving to the refrigerator to pour yourself a glass of water. "I already ate."

As you reach for a glass, Satoru moves behind you to grab the soy sauce. His chest brushes against your back, and you freeze, hyper-aware of his proximity. He lingers for a moment longer than necessary before stepping away.

You retreat to the living room, curling up on the couch with a book you've been meaning to read. Satoru joins you a few minutes later, settling next to you. The silence between you is charged, filled with unspoken words and suppressed desires.

You try to focus on your book, but your eyes keep darting to Satoru. He's scrolling through his phone, the blue light casting shadows across his sharp features. Occasionally, his gaze flicks to you, and each time your eyes meet, the tension in the room ratchets up another notch.

"How was the mission?" you ask, desperate to break the silence.

Satoru shrugs, setting his phone aside. "Nothing too exciting. Just a low-level curse causing trouble in Shibuya."

You nod, trying to appear nonchalant as you take a sip of water. Your hand trembles slightly, and before you can react, the glass tips, sending a cascade of cool liquid splashing onto Satoru's lap.

"Shit," you exclaim, jumping to your feet. "I'm so sorry."

Satoru looks down at his soaked sweatpants, a mix of surprise and amusement crossing his face. 

"Well, that's one way to cool things down," he chuckles, standing up.

You rush to the kitchen, grabbing a dish towel, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. When you return, Satoru is still standing there, the wet fabric clinging to his thighs in a way that makes your mouth go dry.

"Here," you say, thrusting the towel at him.

He takes it, but instead of drying himself off, he catches your wrist, pulling you closer. "Why don't you help me?" he suggests, his voice low and teasing.

Your breath catches in your throat as you look up at him, torn between desire and the last shreds of your self-control. Slowly, almost against your will, you bring the towel to his thigh, dabbing at the wet spot.

The room feels electric, charged with the tension that's been building between you for days. You can feel the heat of his skin through the damp fabric, the firm muscle beneath your trembling hand. Satoru's breathing has quickened, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he watches you.

"I think you missed a spot," he murmurs, guiding your hand higher up his thigh.

You swallow hard, your fingers brushing dangerously close to the junction of his legs. The air between you feels thick, heavy with unspoken desire. You can smell his cologne, a heady mix of sandalwood and something uniquely Satoru that makes your head spin.

"Satoru," you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. 

But even as the words leave your lips, you find yourself leaning closer, drawn in by the magnetic pull of his presence. Satoru's hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip.

"Tell me to stop," he says softly, his eyes searching yours.

You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. Instead, you find yourself rising up on your tiptoes, closing the distance between you until your lips are mere inches apart. You can feel his breath on your skin, warm and inviting.

For a moment, you hover there, suspended in time. The world narrows down to just the two of you, everything else fading into the background. Your heart pounds in your chest, so loud you're sure Satoru must be able to hear it. You huff, turning your face away.

“Stop,” you mutter. Satoru’s face falls.

“Twigs.”

“Satoru .”

“What ?” he asks sharply. “I know we’ve been apart for this long but you’ve never stopped being mine. You realize that, don’t you?”

You clench your jaw, glaring at him. It excites him, undoubtedly. Satoru won’t admit it, but his desire is only ignited even more when you’re angry. He knows that you know this, too, but you won’t indulge him. You’re the picture of composure, but the facade is cracking very, very delicately.

“You’re still so entitled.”

Satoru sighs in frustration. “I don’t understand what you want from me. I could give you everything — I want to. Fuck, I will. But your insistence in keeping me at arm’s length is driving me insane.”

You raise a brow. “Begging for sex now, are you?”

“That’s not—” he flushes. You have a point, and there’s no use in denying it. He’d rather be humiliated and be thrown a bone. “So what if I am? Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”

“Can you just— behave? I know what you’re doing. I know what you’ve been doing.”

“What have I been doing?”

“Seriously, Satoru? Walking around half-naked when it’s just the two of us, flaunting the kids around because you’re trying to awaken some maternal instinct in me or something? Are you trying to babytrap me?”

“I’m not! I just — fuck, I missed you. So much. Maybe I get a little desperate sometimes. I can’t help it.”

You sigh, scrubbing your hand over your face. “Eat your damn soba and behave. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“About what? Our sexual tension?” he teases.

You flick his forehead, huffing, before turning on the television to distract yourself. Thankfully, he only snorts and sets down his bowl of noodles to quickly change in the bedroom. He merges in a pair of athletic shorts and the mere sight of it makes your jaw tick.

He resumes eating next to you, eyes fixed on the television. He knowingly manspreads, thigh to thigh with you. The television flickers, casting a soft blue glow across the dimly lit living room. You try to focus on the drama unfolding on screen, but your attention keeps drifting to the man beside you.

Satoru sits with an air of casual indifference, one arm draped across the back of the couch, his fingers mere inches from your shoulder. His legs are spread wide, his muscular thigh pressed against yours, radiating heat through the thin fabric of your pajamas.

You shift slightly, attempting to put some distance between you, but the couch suddenly feels impossibly small. Satoru doesn't move, his eyes fixed on the television, but you can see the faintest hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. 

Asshole.

The air in the room feels thick, charged with an electricity that makes your skin tingle. Every breath he take is hypnotic in its rhythm. If you weren’t so attuned to it, you’d have the mind to control your own breathing, the persistent hummingbird pattern of your pulse.

On screen, the lead actress leans in for a passionate kiss with her love interest. You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. From the corner of your eye, you see Satoru's tongue dart out to wet his lips, and you grimace.

He stretches, his t-shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of toned abdomen. Your eyes are drawn to the trail of silverish hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his shorts. When you drag your gaze back up, you find Satoru watching you, his blue eyes dark.

"Everything okay?" he asks innocently.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Satoru's hand moves from the back of the couch to your shoulder, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin. The touch sends shivers down your spine, and you have to bite your lip to keep from leaning into his warmth.

"You seem tense," he murmurs, his fingers kneading gently at the knots in your muscles. "Want me to give you a massage?"

The offer is tempting, so tempting that for a moment you consider giving in. But you know where it would lead, and you're not ready to cross that line. Not yet.

You don’t respond, merely giving him an annoyed look that acts as a warning.

Satoru shrugs, his hand sliding away, leaving your skin burning in its wake. There’s a glint of mischief in his expression, the cock-sure boyishness of his younger self stewing under the surface. But he’s behaving. Technically.

"Suit yourself," he snickers, turning his attention back to the TV.

As the on-screen kiss intensifies, you feel your cheeks grow warm. The embrace seems to last for an eternity, the actors’ hands roaming each others’ bodies in an urgency that reminds you of the person next to you. Satoru notices the way you awkwardly shift and grins.

“Getting turned on by some softcore porn?” he whispers, his voice playful. “Or are you getting flashbacks?”

You shoot him a withering glare, but it only seems to encourage him. “Shut up, Satoru.”

The tender love scene gets even more intense, the sound of gasps and moans filling the space. 

“Don’t be so shy,” he snorts, reaching over to squeeze your knee. “Though I have to say, I’m a bit hurt. You never blushed like that for me.”

You open your mouth to give him a sharp retort, but the words die on your lips when you catch his dilated pupils and playful smirk.

“I— I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter.

“No? Should I refresh your memory and you can prove me wrong?”

You roll your eyes, ignoring him. His forwardness never ceases to surprise you, but your blood warms up from your frustration — with him, with the way you’re so close to giving in. You refuse to let him have power over you despite knowing he does and always has.

Satoru stretches an arm over the back of the couch again, his skin touching your hair. He leaves you be, for now, but the lazy smirk on his face lingers as if he’s won an unspoken battle.

You know better, though. You’ll give him what he wants if it’ll satiate him, but he won’t be the one winning.

“Hey, Satoru.” You scoot closer to him, your eyes dark in the bluish shadow of the television. “How have you been managing without me?”

He raises a brow. He doesn’t know what you mean — truthfully, he’d been a mess the entire time, but you already knew that, given his confessions months prior. But he’d been alright with the kids. Having you back just made him feel normal again.

“Uh, fine?” 

“Right,” you nod slowly. “You know, I ran into one of our classmates yesterday at the grocery store.”

“No kidding.”

“Mhm. Fukuda Masako. You remember her, right?”

He narrows his eyes. Yes, he remembered her. He’d fucked her a couple of times when he was sixteen, usually at his house, usually loud enough for you to hear on purpose. He doesn’t know why you’re bringing that up now .

“Sure.”

“She asked about you. Wondered if you were single.”

“What’d you say?” he asks carefully, jaw tightened.

“I said you were, of course. The great Satoru Gojo would never let a girlfriend hold him down, right?”

He gives you a sharp look. “What are you getting at?”

“Nothing,” you smile innocently. “I was just looking out for you. Tsumiki says you look lonely sometimes, you know?”

“I’d rather not waste my time with a non-sorcerer,” he scoffs.

"Why not? You used to all the time, even when we were underclassmen at Jujutsu Tech. You’d do it to get back at me and Suguru sometimes, right?”

He stares at you. The playful atmosphere from moments ago evaporates, replaced by a sudden tension that crackles in the air between you.

"That was a long time ago," he says, his voice low and controlled. "I was young and stupid."

You lean back, crossing your arms as you regard him coolly. "Were you? Or were you just being yourself?"

The words hang in the air, sharp and accusatory. Satoru's eyes flash with a mix of anger and hurt, his usual cocky demeanor faltering for a moment.

"What are you really trying to say?" he asks, turning to face you fully.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the conversation you've been avoiding for years. 

"I'm saying that you have a history, Satoru. A history of using people, of playing games. And I'm not sure that's changed."

Satoru runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the tense set of his shoulders. 

"Is that what you think? That I haven't grown at all?"

"Have you?" you challenge, your voice rising slightly. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're still playing the same games. Flirting, teasing, trying to make me jealous. It's all so familiar."

The words tumble out, years of pent-up emotions finally finding their release. You remember the nights you spent lying awake, listening to the sounds of Satoru with other girls, the way he'd smirk at you the next day, daring you to say something. The constant push and pull, the mind games that left you dizzy and confused. The times he’d be overly possessive and jealous despite having his arm around other girls at parties while you’d find comfort in Suguru.

Satoru's face darkens, a storm brewing behind his eyes. 

"That's not fair," he says, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. "I've changed. I'm not that person anymore."

"Really?" you press, leaning forward. "Then why does it feel like you're still trying to manipulate me? The half-naked wandering, the constant flirting, using the kids to tug at my heartstrings. It's all calculated, isn't it?"

Satoru stands abruptly, pacing the length of the living room. The muscles in his back are taut beneath his thin t-shirt, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"Is it so hard to believe that I genuinely care about you?" he asks, whirling to face you. "That maybe I've realized what I lost and I'm trying to make amends?"

“So you admit you’ve fucked up? Tell me what you’re making amends over!”

He opens his mouth, but you cut him off. “Do you know how embarrassing it was when I’d feel confused over you and I’d vent to Shoko and Utahime? What about years ago when you were sleeping with me exclusively and then pretended I didn’t even exist?”

“What? I’ve never—”

“You ignored me the entire time at Shoko’s nineteenth birthday party,” you snap.

He pauses and thinks back to how drunk you’d gotten. How he went ballistic on another boy for putting his hands on you, how you’d vomited in his bathroom. The guilt creeps back again like a parasite and his face crumples.

"I remember that night," he says softly, his voice muffled. "I remember every detail, every mistake I made."

You watch him, your anger tempered by the raw emotion in his voice. Satoru takes a deep breath, lifting his head to meet your gaze.

"I was terrified," he admits. "Terrified of how much I cared about you, of how much power you had over me. I'd never felt that way before, and it scared the shit out of me."

He leans back, his gaze fixed on some distant point as he continues. "That night at Shoko's party, I— I couldn't handle it. Being with you. I don’t know why I ignored you, why I was trying to pretend everything was more casual than it was. If I’d just— been there , then you wouldn't have—”

His voice tapers off into a choke. Satoru's confession hangs in the air between you, heavy with years of unspoken truths. You remember that night vividly – the sting of his indifference, the confusion and hurt that had driven you to drink more than you should have. The way you felt when someone else’s tongue was in your mouth.

“When I saw that creep put his hands on you," Satoru continues, his voice tight with remembered anger, "I lost it. I wanted to tear him apart. And then when you got sick, all I wanted to do was take care of you, protect you. But I didn't know how to do that without making myself vulnerable."

He clears his throat. “I know I apologized, then, but it wasn’t enough. Do you remember what you said before I apologized for not being there? You blamed yourself. You said, please don’t be angry with me. ”

Your shoulders slump. You don’t remember that moment, not clearly, at least. You only remember vomiting and crying before falling asleep in Satoru’s arms.

“And I kept being a fucking idiot over and over after that. Even when we were with Suguru, when everything felt good. I was in love with you and fucked you over so many times because I was stupid and jealous and didn’t know what to do with my feelings. And I’m so, so fucking sorry.”

He expects you to be on the brink of tears, but you let out a sigh of exhaustion. His heart beats frantically, half-expecting you to leave him right then and there. But you don’t. You stand there and you say nothing.

“There were so many times that your selflessness just — fucked me up. I knew I didn’t deserve you but I kept wanting you anyway, and you kept letting me in. It wasn’t fair. If I—” he pauses, inhaling sharply, “If I ever treat you like that again, I want you to knock the daylights out of me. No infinity, I swear.”

Your neutral expression cracks. You laugh.

You… laugh?

Your laughter catches Satoru off guard, his brow furrowing in confusion. But as the sound fills the room, you feel something inside you begin to unravel. Years of pent-up tension and hurt start to dissolve, replaced by a bittersweet catharsis.

“God, I put up with so much of your bullshit,” you exhale, your laughter subsiding. Satoru looks at you with caution as if you’re a wild animal. He can’t tell if you’re livid or not.

“Yeah, you did,” he says quietly. “And you shouldn’t have.”

“I guess that’s why I went to Kyoto.” You sink back to the couch, your expression calmer now. 

Satoru doesn’t know what to say. Neither do you. Silence ensues for an uncomfortable amount of time before you speak up again.

“You know,” you sigh. “I wasn’t… completely blameless in all of this either.”

Satoru’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “What do you mean?”

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. "I... I played games too, Satoru. Maybe not as obviously as you did, but I wasn't always honest about my feelings."

You remember the nights you'd spent with Suguru, knowing full well that it would hurt Satoru. He wasn’t entitled to you, of course, but there were times you’d deliberately leave him out when you were pissed off with him. Times you'd deliberately ignore his texts or calls, relishing in the power it gave you.

"I was selfish, sometimes," you admit, your voice cracking slightly. "Especially with Suguru. I wanted both of you, in different ways, and I couldn't bring myself to choose. I mean, I know I didn’t have to choose – we loved each other, right?”

He nods, face flickering with emotions you can’t decipher. Neither of you had talked about Suguru in so long. It almost felt taboo.

“I didn’t know how to be in love with you both and healthily navigate it all. So I just... let things spiral out of control."

You pause, gathering your courage for your next words. "I knew how complicated things were between the three of us, but I kept playing both sides. I'd comfort him when you two fought, knowing it would drive a wedge between you. And when everything fell apart with Suguru, I... I blamed you. It was easier than admitting my own role in the mess we'd created."

Satoru listens intently, his eyes never leaving your face.

“It was immature of me to basically ghost you after I went back to Kyoto. I wanted space, but I just… cut you off instead of having a conversation with you.”

“I deserved it,” he mutters.

“Even if you did, there was no reason for me to isolate myself and not talk to you for six months. I wanted to be more independent but I just pushed away the person that loves me most. I’m sorry.”

Satoru reaches out, hesitantly taking your hand in his. His touch is warm, familiar, and you find yourself leaning into it despite your reservations. His thumb traces gentle circles on the back of your hand, his touch a soothing counterpoint to the tumultuous emotions swirling between you. The soft glow of the television casts dancing shadows across his face, highlighting the vulnerability in his eyes.

"I’ve missed you so much," he says softly. "But I think... I think maybe we needed that time apart to grow. To figure out who we are without each other."

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. "I think you're right. Being in Kyoto, as much as I hated it sometimes, it forced me to confront a lot of things about myself. About what I want, and who I want to be."

Satoru shifts closer, his knee brushing against yours. "And who is that? Who do you want to be?"

You take a deep breath, considering your words carefully. "Someone stronger. More independent. Someone who doesn't lose herself in other people's expectations or desires."

A small smile tugs at the corners of Satoru's mouth. "You've always been strong. But I understand what you mean. I think... I think I needed to learn how to be on my own too. To be responsible for someone other than myself."

His gaze drifts towards the hallway, where Megumi and Tsumiki's rooms lie silent and dark. "Taking care of the kids, it's changed me. Made me realize how selfish I've been in the past. I used to think I was invincible. That nothing could touch me, that I could do whatever I wanted without consequences. But seeing how vulnerable they are, how much they depend on me... it's terrifying. And humbling."

“I’ll admit you’ve… grown a lot since I’ve come back. You’re different.”

“Different?” Satoru chuckles softly. “You mean less of an asshole?”

You can't help but smile. "Well, yes. But also more... I don't know. Present? Like you're really here, not just putting on a show. You’re still a cocky little shit, though.”

“It’s the Gojo blood,” he deadpans. You exhale out a laugh.

A comfortable silence falls between you, filled with the quiet hum of the television and the distant sounds of the city outside. You find yourself leaning into Satoru's warmth, your head resting on his shoulder.

“So… what now?” you mumble. Satoru's arm wraps around you, pulling you closer.

"I don't know," he admits. "But I know I want you in my life. In whatever way you're comfortable with."

“Me too,” you nod.

Silence washes over the both of you again, though you have no qualms about it. You bask in his warmth and the beat of his heart. His hand rubs your thigh gently, tantalizingly. You glance at him, amused when he looks back at you innocently.

“We're still not having sex tonight,” you say matter-of-factly.

“Damn it.”

[sillygoofyqueer]

I'M BACK WITH MORE ANGST

(but first of all!!! i loove that characterization of wei qingwei, the pirate-dad-peak lord; i can see him being the only peak lord/person who is allowed to casually fix stray feathers on shen qingqiu's wings, because he never makes a big deal out of it or acts like he's made of glass. he fixes it like he fixes someone's hair or clothes, which is a bit of normalcy shen qingqiu is probably desperate for)

so i was thinking: water prison. the whole jin lan city debacle goes roughly the same, only of course with the added accusations of sqq having been an untrustworthy, scheming demon all along and the accusations being a bit more dire. public opinion turns against him badly and he gets hauled off. the old palace master would probably go all in on his demonic heritage and accuse him of a slew of other things too, and then demand his wings be clipped because he'll "escape otherwise". it's not great but shen qingqiu doesn't use his wings to fly that often, and he'll molt soon anyway so he agrees with the conditions (if only to soothe things over). but then ofc in private they do whatever they want and the old palace master changes clipping to pinioning, which is significantly worse, very painful, and cripples him (bonus points if the little palace mistress comes to the prison with her whip and gets a few hits in too cus his wings are drenched and hurt and difficult to maneuver<3).

i do think in this case luo binghe doesn't visit bc if he already got furious at the little palace mistress for using her whip, he wouldn't accept his shizun's wings being mutilated (however, if binghe does come it would be a similar kind of frustrating miscommunication as in canon, and when binghe gets furious when he sees shen qingqiu it's not at sqq but at the state of him, but sqq doesn't know that, and reacts in fear and self-preservation (moving away, tucking his wings tight and close to his body, eyes flashing pale blue (like a crow's!!)), which of course makes it worse; maybe binghe assumes that shen qingqiu thinks this was his idea, which he would NEVER).

when gongyi xiao (love this good boy<3) comes by ofc he's horrified to see the state of shen qingqiu's wings (clumps of blood-slick feathers on the floor, one wing clearly shorter than the other, ripped clothes and bruises), and just like in canon he immediately goes to free him bc it's unacceptable and vile, and maaaybe he jumps to the conclusion that binghe must have done this to him to punish him. with the last of his strength sqq transforms into his full crow form, which is easier to smuggle out of the prison bc gongyi xiao can bundle him up in his robes (for extra drama binghe can be like "shizun will let gongyi xiao swaddle him in his robes and hold him but not binghe??🥺🥺😡😡" "binghe please don't say it like that")

*Gripping the sides of my coffin as I force myself into a sitting position and yes, I do look as - if not MORE - fit than Tianlang-jun in that one illustration (you know the one I mean)* Hey.

This angst just hit me incredibly hard in the stomach and that's why I've been ill so...it's ALL YOUR FAULT (kidding, kidding). Anywhosles, Gongyi Xiao is precious and of course he would smuggle crow Shen Qingqiu out of the prison the moment he sees the mutilation of the poor guy's wings. If he believes Binghe did it? Another reason to dislike the guy that practically stole everything from him (I love this precious guy and he deserves better in canon 😔). He has heard so much about the peak lord grieving the loss of his disciple, and Luo Binghe repays him by practically destroying his wings?? Shameful :(

From the Zhuzhi-lang angle, imagine he's in snake form, going to find the fit guy dilf half demon cultivator that saved his life and helped him out when he should have killed him, and finding a Huan Hua Palace disciple holding a brutalised crow with overly intelligent eyes. It's not hard to jump to the conclusion that the Huan Hua disciple has either caused or helped cause these injuries upon Shen Qingqiu, and is possibly even about to kill him. Keep in mind that all Zhuzhi-lang knows is that Shen Qingqiu has been taken into custody by Huan Hua, held within the Water Prison with his wings to be clipped, multiple accusations thrown his way linked to him being a demon, and that it's the snake boi's job to save him because Shen Qingqiu saved him that one time. What would you do in that situation? Because Zhuzhi-lang attacks with no remorse. Does Gongyi Xiao die?? The real question is if I could bear the poor guy dying twice just for doing the right thing...

The miscommunication between Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu always makes me want to die because just ONE CONVERSATION WOULD FIX EVERYTHING. But that's also why it's so silly and good and I love it. The idea that Shen Qingqiu believes that Luo Binghe is the reason why his wings are so fucked up could go deeper with the idea of, back when Luo Binghe was a disciple, he was practically the only disciple that was ever allowed to touch the man's wings, and he always seemed very upset when the other peak lords got to help Shen Qingqiu with his feathers - jealous of them, in reality, but the man thought that maybe he was jealous of how Shen Qingqiu was treated despite being a demon (it was a tidgy bit of the reason). So, when Shen Qingqiu is in the Water Prison, Binghe's first order of business could be perceived as: "you want to be treated as a pathetic human? I can help with that" and ruins one of Shen Qingqiu's defining features of a demon, making him vulnerable and weak - which is how Bingge felt humans were, and how Shen Qingqiu thinks Binghe views humans. So. Angst. Yay.

[m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s]

Requests, yay!! Thank you for blessing tumblr with your bright presence! ✨️

So, I was thinking... I'd like to request something with our handsome and beloved Crosshair and a female reader perhaps involving a cozy rainy evening in a coffee shop? I'm in a very big coffee and cozy mood and some fluff with Crosshair would maybe really hit the spot. One shot or headcanons would be alright, just wirte whatever you wish. I know it'll be lovely! And thank you again for doing this ✨️🩷

OMG I HAD SO MUCH FUN DOING THIS ONE!!!

i had to ponder on it forever, but once i thought of the idea, the spring sprung fr.

hope you enjoy!! :)

—

Crosshair x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,169 words

Warnings: talking of the war, army, battles, being away (only mentioned once or twice)

Genre: VERY VERY FLUFFY, LIKE SUPER FLUFFY

Description: A day out with Crosshair takes a sweet, and rainy turn.

—

Rainy Days & Mochas

—

“You know it’s going to rain soon, right?”

Extending arms of oak trees hung above your head, crisp air nipping your nose as you looked above. Cinnamon, ochres, pecans, and crimsons fluttered above on the branches in the shape of leaves. Just beyond, through the autumnal rainbow, distant rain clouds could be spotted. 

You also spotted him.

“I’m ignoring the rain.”

Fortunately, the Batch had gotten a week of shore leave after months of being on the go. A never ending war in sight, always something to tend to, and also some droid army to take down. 

In the here and now though, there was a handsome sniper in your sights. One that was holding your hand and walking with you in this quiet autumn world. 

That in itself could demolish any thought of how quickly the week felt like it was drifting by.

“How can you ignore the rain if it’s getting ready to rain?” You questioned, smiling to yourself at the repetitive asks.

Crosshair’s warm chuckle rang out into the autumn touched park the pair of you were walking in. 

He had wanted to take you out today, spend time with you. Just be with you.

Despite how cold it was from the autumn air, your heart failed to be chilled. 

“I’m ignoring it because I’m focusing on you,” Crosshair said, turning to you. The softness dulled those hard edges you had seen on occasion. Late nights where he came to your apartment, seeking the comfort he would never have out on the battlefield. 

He was out of his gear for once as well, donning a ebony turtleneck, blue jeans, and that damned jacket that still sent butterflies through your stomach. It was tawny corduroy, fluffy white lining poking out of the collar. It smelt like him, warm oceanic musk, pine, and that hint of his polish he used on his beloved sniper. 

That jacket stayed with you, a token to remember him while he was away. For now though, you didn’t have to remember. He was here, and that’s what mattered.

“What’s got your mind in a twist, darlin’?” Crosshair asked, hands coming to cradle your face.

You looked to Crosshair, thoughts dwindling away. 

“Nothing. Just you.” You leaned into his touch, craving it. He smiled, coming close to pepper your nose with kisses.

Little pitter patters of water began to sprinkle on your shoulders, sending a chill through your spine.

It had begun to rain.

“I told you it was going to rain,” you stated, the simplicity of it amusing you. The weather began to pick up, the rain coming down faster, pouring from the sky.

“Crosshair!” You exclaimed, drops beginning to splash on your head.

“Let’s run!” He yelled, a smile tugging on his face.

He was already grabbing your hand, pulling you along as you ran through the park you had been enjoying. Giggles spilled from both of you, darting among rain and falling leaves. It wasn’t long before you came back to the streets of the city, making your way quickly across the road to a random business. 

Shelter.

Coffee beans?

Crosshair had pulled you two into a quaint little coffee shop, the smell of hot drinks and warm pastries tingling your nose as you both entered. 

“Crosshair!”

You shook in laughter, cold splatters of leftover rain water hitting you as he had bent over to shake his hair of water. He stood back up, another warm smile greeting your eyes. 

“Sorry, darlin’. I suppose I’ll just have to buy you a drink to warm you up.”

He didn’t wait for your answer, already making his way towards the counter to order. You moseyed your way to a back corner table, taking off your jacket and settling into the worn booth seats. It was cozy, almost nostalgic in how warm and inviting it was.

“I love when you wear that sweater.”

Crosshair had returned, carrying a pastry bag, two coffees, and that lovey dovey look he always seemed to wear around you. 

He was referencing what you were wearing, an amaranth sleeved sweater, chunky and warm in the best way for the fall weather. You gave him a smile, giggling as he came to cozy up next to you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, pulling you into his side. Despite the rain pounding against the windows of the little shop, the cold didn’t reach you in Cross’s warmth.

“So… you come here often, darlin’?”

You laughed, the sound bouncing in the carefree atmosphere. 

“It’s my first time. How about you?”

You hadn’t missed how Crosshair had pulled the two of you into the cute cafe, knowing it was a hobby of his to taste different beverages from the beloved coffee beans. Iced, warmed, cream, no cream, he loved it all. He thought he was being sneaky, but you knew his antics.

“Ah, it’s my first time with my girl. Though I know for a fact this place has the best mochas this side of town.”

“This side of town?”

“What? I had to explore the other cafes and coffee houses.”

That made you both laugh. 

Crosshair reached forward across the table, bringing two russet orange mugs closer to you. When the mugs reached your eyes, foamy sweetness with little chocolate chunks decorating the snowy top of the drink appeared. Beneath, you had a feeling a hot caffeinated drink was hidden. You also noticed a warm chocolate croissant being taken out of the little paper bag it was in. 

You looked up, meeting expectant eyes. Crosshair always shared everything with you about his little hobby, describing the drinks in detail. It was like poetry, how the flavor swirled in his mouth, or how the sugar had almost been a touch too much. 

He was waiting for you to try it, and you could do with some more warmth. 

Not that you needed it, not with him.

You raised the cup to your lips, taking a sip of the hot drink. 

Decadent, sweet, but bitter. Somehow, it all worked together, creating a drink you actually loved.

“Okay, that is so good,” You mumbled, taking another sip, hand already reaching for the croissant. 

“I knew you would like it,” Crosshair murmured, arm squeezing you closer than you already were. He pressed another peck to your forehead, smiling against your skin. 

Your gaze turned to the window, noting how the autumn day had turned quite rainy and chilled. Thoughts of running home in the rain with Crosshair sprung to your mind, knowing you both would be soaked by the time you made it to your apartment. 

“Your mind’s in a twist again, darlin’,” Crosshair spoke, his warm smile making your heart stutter.

It was your turn to greet him with your smile, arms wrapping around him.

“Just thinking of you and the rain.”

His laugh rang out again.

How you could never tire of the musical sound.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll keep you warm.”

And you knew he would make good on that promise.

—

tagging the fabulous @moonstrider9904, as well as a few others! @nahoney22 @hellothere-generalangsty @eyecandyeoz @baddest-batchers @leenabb104104 @dalu-grantkylo @ladysaturnsdust

If any of those tagged, or anyone else is interested in being on my taglist, here is the form to fill it out, or leave your interest in the comments. You can also find my taglist form on my pinned post!

Taglist Form

[randoimago]

"Wow... you look... you look amazing." for Dio, Josuke and Esidisi, please?

"Wow... you look... you look amazing."

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

Character(s): Dio, Josuke, Esidisi (AC/DC)

Type of Request: Headcanons

Note(s): You got it!!

Dio

You get an amused smirk from Dio when he hears your words. Of course, you think he's amazing. Why wouldn't you?

Would ask if you really intend to use your words to compliment him or if there's something you wanted to ask. Perhaps you're saying he's "amazing" in hopes of getting a favor?

Whatever the reason, he knows he's amazing. Might get you a dictionary at some point just so you can find better words to describe him too.

Esidisi

Much like Dio, he's smirking and very smug when you call him amazing because of course he is. He's a pillar man, a supreme being. How could he be anything less than amazing?

Will gladly show you exactly what makes him amazing. Do you want him to lift you with one arm? Watch him topple a city to the ground?

But you know, S/O, he might be the amazing one, but you're the one that got lucky enough for him to choose you to be with him. So feel free to bask in his amazingness.

Josuke

"Yeah, I know," he'd say with a cheeky smile. Despite him trying to act cool and confident about your compliment, there is a slight pink tint to his cheeks.

Seriously, you complimenting how he looks is enough to make his whole day great. Nothing can ruin it (except maybe Rohan showing up out of the blue).

Will happily give you a compliment back, stating that you're super hot too. Well, he probably is a bit more polite with his compliment, but he definitely wants to call you hot instead of "cute", which is the actual compliment he gives.

[mariacallous]

People often say to me that I wouldn’t personally be affected by a second Donald Trump presidency. After all, I live in a blue city in a blue state, and I’m a married, heterosexual woman who isn’t looking to have any more children. I won’t need medication like mifepristone for a miscarriage (though I do have girls in my family who I assume will someday want to have children), and I don’t personally rely on the federal government for education, because my kids don’t go to public school.

So, again, how would any of this affect me? The most likely answer is that, as a public-facing person, I will continue to be subjected to threats, as many in the mainstream media already are. But attacks on the media could escalate if Trump returns to power, given that he doesn’t hesitate to demonize journalists and call them out before his millions of followers. And given what Trump says on television, he may target American citizens for unfavorable speech.

“I think the bigger problem is the enemy from within,” he told Maria Bartiromo on Fox News on Sunday. “Sick people, radical-left lunatics. And it should be very easily handled by, if necessary, by the National Guard, or, if really necessary, by the military.” The “lunatics” in question could be anyone from protesters to opinion columnists—or even mainstream reporters—he doesn’t agree with. Trump has referred to CBS as a “A FAKE NEWS SCAM” whose operations are “totally illegal,” and has similarly suggested that ABC should lose its broadcast license. 

What would it mean to have a president who, in this fashion, targets what little is left of the free press? It’s hard to fathom, but there’s a world where Trump imitates his strongman friends like Vladimir Putin or Viktor Orbán or Kim Jong Un—all of whom participate in jailing or killing journalists in countries with state-regulated media. He’s already taking a page from Joe McCarthy this election cycle in targeting the “enemies within,” something my family is all too familiar with.

Few aspects of Trump’s second-terms plans are more openly authoritarian than his immigration platform. On Friday, Trump traveled to Aurora, a suburb of Denver, Colorado, where he is shopping “Operation Aurora,” a policy he said would target “every illegal migrant criminal network operating on American soil” by use of the Alien Enemies Act of 1798. According to the Brennan Center, the law is “a wartime authority that allows the president to detain or deport the natives and citizens of an enemy nation. The law permits the president to target these immigrants without a hearing and based only on their country of birth or citizenship.” The last time the United States used the Alien Enemies Act, it was to put Japanese and Japanese Americans into internment camps during WWII.

What would internment camps actually entail in the modern day? Well, Trump has talked about deporting up to 20 million undocumented immigrants—an operation of staggering scale that he freely admits will be “bloody.” (The Department of Homeland Security, in 2018, estimated there were 11.4 million undocumented immigrants; Pew put the number at roughly 11 million in 2022.) It’s impossible to imagine what deporting that many people would really look like; maybe blue-state governors would be strong enough to prevent deportation camps from being built in states like California and New York. Maybe the camps would only be in red states, or maybe they’d be erected on federal land, like national parks. Then there’s the question of who would run these camps. Trump, for his part, has mused about using the National Guard. Who would stop any of this, you might ask? Would a Republican Congress stop it? Who would be the grown-ups in the room.

At least during the first Trump administration, the courts prevented Trump from doing some of the things he wanted to do, like ending DACA. But this time, Trump would be starting out with a 6-3 conservative-majority Supreme Court, featuring three justices he appointed. Last year, we saw the Trump-friendly high court issue two rulings that will pretty much serve as a blank check to an emboldened Trump: The first ended the Chevron deference, which will curb the power of federal agencies and expedite the death of regulatory expertise. The other decision, which is perhaps more worrying, Trump would have a blank check to do whatever he wants if he says it’s in the service of the presidency, essentially granting him blanket immunity against any crimes he commits in office. As Ninth Circuit judge and Ronald Reagan appointee Stephen S. Trott wrote, it means that Richard Nixon could have “legally ordered his plumbers to burgle the office of Daniel Ellsberg’s psychiatrist.”

Trump is telling us all about his potential plans: internment camps, going after his enemies foreign and domestic, including, presumably, journalists. Will I be one of them? Will he clamp down on the free press? Will he take away the licenses from networks he deems insufficiently supportive of his presidency?

On the campaign trail, Trump has recently posed a question of his own when it comes to voting for him, asking the crowd, “What the hell do you have to lose?” Actually, a lot. While we don’t know precisely what a second Trump term will look like, it’ll surely be chaotic and bleak, and could mark the end of something we certainly don’t want to lose: democracy as we know it.