#not skepticism like is the earth flat

[arabella-strange]

Except if we wanna honor Baldwin, we gotta stop mis-attribute quotes that aren't his and read him accurately. This wonderful quote above? Not a James Baldwin quote. This is Robert Jones, Jr. (author of the beautiful The Prophets), who on Twitter went by @ Son of Baldwin... hence this repeated mis-attribution. Jones tweeted this wonderful statement in 2015. Baldwin died in 1987.

James Baldwin, on the other hand, while also Black, also rad, also queer, also righteous, had lots of things to say about humanity, compassion, and the violence of denial of these two things. For example, Baldwin:

"It is a terrible, an inexorable, law that one cannot deny the humanity of another without diminishing one's own: in the face of one's victim, one sees oneself." (Baldwin, Esquire 1960)

Even more simply, Baldwin is and should be widely quoted for this wisdom:

“I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain.” (Notes of a Native Son 1955)

All good wisdom! Let's just give credit to the right people for their particular wisdom and make sure that what we see circulating is actually what got said.

Today would have been James Baldwin’s 100th birthday. 🙌🏿

One of the most iconic authors of the 20th century, Baldwin wrote essays, novels, plays, and poems. His work explored racial equality, social justice, and the intersection of his identities as a Black, gay, American man.

What’s your favorite work by James Baldwin? Let us know 👇🏿

[captainjonnitkessler]

We really, really need to kill the idea that something being a religious belief puts it on a special untouchable level that nobody is allowed to disrespect or think is dumb. A religious belief isn’t any more special than any other belief or opinion, and it should absolutely be held to the same standards and critical thinking as anything else.

[kedsandtubesocks]

Mr. Winter

Santa!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: you wrote that letter to Santa as a joke (knowing he obviously wouldn’t answer it) until he does - and he comes with a proposition

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. no outbreak/modern AU & Joel has both his daughters, marriage of convenience, unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but is a drinking aged adult & Joel is older), yearning, fluff with light angst, grumpy but sweetheart!Joel, caregiver!Joel with slight sugar daddy!Joel vibes, brief moments of dealing with toxic family, Joel lifts reader once with his Santa strength, spicy thoughts, heavy making out, fingering, glove & finger sucking, use of “good girl,” Joel’s dirty talk & referring to himself as “old man,” one light ass smack, reader wears lingerie, Santa!kink (?), use of gendered language

word count: 9.1k (I’m sorry)

a/n: yeah… hi lol this is heavily influenced and based off “The Santa Clause” films but you don’t need to know those to read - biggest thank you to my favorite enablers & Santa’s cutest helpers @pedgito & @hauntedhowlett ily…also happy holidays, if you’re reading this I can’t thank you enough & hope a little magic comes your way ♡ divider credit to the ever talented @saradika-graphics

You wrote the dumb letter at the end of the semester class party. You’re thankful everyone decided to write papers instead of having a final, a grad school blessing, which meant class was done by the last week of November. Your professor even had set up the cutest Letters to Santa Station, and your friend begged you to write one with her.

So you did.

And you jokingly asked Santa for one thing - to send you a boyfriend.

Of course you know the big guy isn’t real and wouldn’t ever answer. It’s why you didn’t think much of it.

But now, if there’s any hope Santa could be real, you wonder if maybe he could just grant you one small wish…

You’re happy for your best friend, you truly are. Her wedding reception is beautiful, you just need a moment.

It finally hit you that you’re the last of your friend group not married. And as the cozy colder winter days bring in the couples closer during the slow song, you simply take a moment outside to collect yourself.

The once warmed spiked hot chocolate you’ve been enjoying now sits cold, not so festive.

Someone calls to you, says your name in a thick southern molasses smooth accent you don’t recognize.

Turning to the door, you definitely don’t know who this man is because you would have remembered someone this stunning.

Dressed down in some jeans and a sharp looking blazer, there’s almost a cowboy like air to this man. Rugged, older with lovely streaks of wrinkles and shining grey hair, a gorgeous sharp hawk nose, and dark as the deep earth eyes stare at you - he’s flat out gorgeous.

“Got your letter.” He cryptically announces, and confusion clusters in you.

This handsome stranger lifts up the overly festive candy cane colored envelope, the one you picked at the party a few days ago when you wrote your letter to Santa.

Slightly panicked, now you question who this man is.

The mystery man fidgets, painting him younger. He shifts to put his hands on his hips.

“Alright… there ain’t no easy way to put this, so imma just say it.” He starts. “I got many names… Father Christmas, Ol’ Saint Nick. Shit like that.”

Those dark unearthed eyes stare unflinching at you.

“But you can call me Joel.”

“Wait…What are you saying?” Bewilderment and skepticism bubble in your voice.

He sighs, ancient and tired, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Don’t make me say it.” He grumbles.

“Wait are you saying you’re like, fucking Santa Claus or something?” You can’t even believe it.

His large hand moves away from his face, and the man, Joel, stays silent. The somber stillness makes this feel worse.

A disbelief filled laugh escapes you.

“Yeah okay, nice try.” You lift your drink to him, a slight mock cheers, then take a sip. It’s cold as hell and tastes bitter.

“I know it sounds fucking crazy as shit-”

“The Santa I know wouldn't cuss.” You playfully cut him off deciding to now embrace this joke.

His face grows foul, hard with a frown, not so very Kris Kringle like. With deliberate steps he moves slightly closer to you.

“Two years ago… who d’ya think dropped off that snow globe, huh?” His voice dips low, bordering a deadly seriousness, and you inhale sharp.

Two years ago, you and your mom’s favorite snow globe shattered. It felt silly getting so upset over such a strange object, but you couldn’t find a replacement anywhere.

Then after everyone had opened their gifts and family had left, you spotted a lone gift still tucked away hidden under the tree.

It was the snow globe, new and perfectly wrapped. You know you didn’t get it for your mom and the way she teared up, she didn’t get it for you. None of your other family members knew the significance of it.

“It has to be a Christmas miracle,” your mom had said. You didn’t believe it.

Now you stare a bit horrified and in shock at the man who knows about this.

Silence suffocates the air between you and him.

“Make a reindeer show up.” You blurt out.

The man, Joel, snorts dry and amused.

“Don’t need reindeer. S’a myth.” He replies low.

Your eyes narrow suspicious at him now.

“Can you make it snow?”

“M’not Jack Frost.” He scoffs offended.

“Santa always leaves snow from his boots.” You argue back.

“It’s for the dang effect.” Joel argues back.

“Can’t be Santa then.” You shrug.

He makes a disgruntled sigh of a noise. Glaring hard, he waves his hand out to the wind. Suddenly the wind blows strong, a howling gust rushing against you, so blustery you need to cover your face. When the wind stops you realize you’re lightly covered in snow.

You almost drop your not so hot chocolate.

Joel must sense your shock. He takes your drink from your hand, takes a sip and makes a disgusted face.

“Look… came here for a reason. I think we might be able to help each other out.

He’s here with a proposition.

“I… need a wife.” He declares with a deadpan like energy.

Now you almost laugh again.

“What, did Mrs Claus divorce you?” You joke.

“Never been married.” He frowns.

Oh.

“So why now?” Curiosity peeks up in you fast.

“Legal shit.” His words don’t allow for more prying. “I’ll explain it all later. Just needed to find ya to see if we can get this done.”

“Wait, why me?”

He lifts up that damn letter again, waves it around.

“Y’said you wanted a boyfriend.” He almost sounds bored.

“This isn’t the same.” You squak, indignant.

“Look,” he now returns to that deep somber tone.

“I need this. And you’d be… compensation.” His voice shifts slightly awkwardly.

He mentions your loans, all the debt you have, and how he might be able to help out. Your eyes feel like they’re about to pop out their sockets.

Commotion finally arrives at the door leading back inside.

Joel takes a sip of your drink, then hands it back to you.

“Think it over.” He says low.

The door slides open, and your other friend flings her head out.

“Hey come on! They’re cutting the cake!” She brightly exclaims, but her face scrunches up confused.

“Wait, who were you talking to?” She asks.

Your eyes flicker to the spot where Joel would be.

No one stands next to you. All that’s left is snow and the imprint of boots.

You also notice…your hot chocolate has been warmed.

-

“Santa lives here? In Austin Texas? What happened to the North Pole?” Walking behind him, you sound like a bummed out kid who just found out Santa isn’t real.

“Shit said to throw the FBI off.” Joel Miller replies bluntly, and you don’t know if he’s joking or not.

His house, rustic and cozy, holds a spacious warmth. But it feels vacant, unusually quiet for a man known to bring joy and the personification of Christmas warmth.

“So how does one become Santa?” You ask.

“Long story.” Another curt reply.

“Well, if I’m gonna be your wife shouldn’t I know these things?” Just saying the words aloud didn’t seem real.

You can’t believe you’re doing this.

The new home draws in your full attention trying to soak it all in. So many photos of two girls cover the walls and they grow right before your eyes. Curiously, you ask about them.

“They’re my daughters.” Joel answers simple.

Your eyes go wide.

He had children.

“They’re the reason why we’re here actually.” Joel adds while he moves around his cozy kitchen.

He reveals ‘Santa Claus’ is simply a title for someone to fill. It’s a hefty role. Joel was able to get away without having a spouse with his first daughter, and then again with his second. But now with her about to enter college, Joel was alone.

The stipulation to marry now stood between him and having the title stripped from him.

“Why do you even need to get married?”

“Some shit about needing companionship and other fuckin’ bullshit.” He gruffly explains.

“You could retire.” You offer.

“Don’t wanna.” He roughly replies grabbing papers out of a drawer.

“So your daughters… I’m sure they must’ve been over the moon knowing their dad was Santa.” You try breaking the ice more.

Placing a pen on the table, Joel sighs.

“Look, we don’t gotta do this.” He snaps tight. “This small talk and shit. The sooner we can get this signed and started, the sooner we can get this over with.”

His words sting, becoming sharp barbs that dig in deep.

“Fine.” You grab the pen ready to sign whatever the hell this guy has for you.

A back door opens, and commotion follows. A handsome younger man, with the same dark eyes like Joel that instead sparkle, walks into the kitchen from the garage. Following him are two much older gentleman, one with kind eyes and the other with a glare that could whither a field

“Well now, is this the soon to be Mrs Joel Miller?” The youngest of the bunch says bright and sunny.

Joel introduces you to his brother, Tommy, who is an exact opposite to his sour puss older sibling. Frank, an old family friend, is here to officiate the ceremony. His husband, Bill, would be the other witnesses besides Tommy. Frank and Tommy are thankfully sweet, obviously curious about you.

“Can we get this fuckin’ done with?” Joel snaps.

Now your annoyance triples, and you’re thankful Tommy and Frank chide Joel. Bill snorts amused.

But wanting to leave now too, you’re quick to agree to start the ceremony.

It’s done short and simple in the kitchen - Frank asking you and Joel to take each other as husband and wife. You agree briskly. Joel just nods. There’s not even an exchange of rings, or a kiss to conclude the ceremony.

Joel simply sticks his hand out, a damn handshake becomes your official agreement, your binding wedding vow.

You maybe should have read over the marriage agreement more, could have been smarter and brought a lawyer, even one that might have believed you. But you’re pissed. You simply sign the papers, let Frank go over the documentation, then gather your things.

“Wait, you ain’t gonna stay for lunch?” Joel suddenly questions seeing you get up to leave.

“We got this over with, didn't we, husband? That’s all you wanted right?” Your words are clipped, polite but sharp, that they even sting you.

You apologize to Tommy and Frank for meeting like this. Yet you don’t say another word to your new husband who feels more of a stranger than ever.

-

When you get back to your mom’s place a new sticky note sits on your night stand.

Sorry about today, let me make it up to you.

-J

Underneath is his phone number.

Guess he’s showing off the very classic Santa trick of slipping into houses without anyone noticing he pulled off a breaking and entering.

He answers on the second ring when you call.

“I got Santa’s personal number?” You offer with a gentle treading tone.

“Yeah, yeah.” Joel huffs.

It eases the tension. But hesitation still brews thick, an awkwardness of trying to talk to a stranger who just so happens to be your new husband.

“Uh, shit…Sorry about earlier. Didn’t end up eating lunch. You up for a bite to eat? I'll pay?” His voice is open, letting you decide.

Agreeing, he shows up to your door in record timing.

“Is this traveling fast a Santa thing? How can you travel so fast?” Your curiosity gets the best of you.

Joel simply smirks, not answering, but the silence dances playful now.

He takes you to a cozy barbecue spot on the lake. The Texas winter makes the days crisp, almost stuck between autumn and full blown winter. But in the midday sun, it's rather lovely.

“I’m surprised you’re not busy with everything coming up.” You’re trying stepping into the conversation as eased and natural as possible.

“If I’m tryin’ to scramble to get shit done by now, then I ain’t doing my job right.” He says taking a sip of his beer, and his words ignite a burst of heat in you.

It's attractive… he’s attractive. You can’t deny that.

Lunch is surprisingly casual, relaxed. Joel asks about grad school and about your major, asks about your family. It vaguely feels like a regular first date.

However this is treading the waters between you and him and this strange new circumstance.

This situation has been gnawing at you. Anxiously, you wonder if he judges you for agreeing so quickly, for jumping in because of the money.

“Hey,” it's like he senses your quiet already.

“You still don’t gotta do this. I can head back home right now, rip up those papers and start again.” A sincere tone, gilded in understanding, rings in his voice.

He’s giving you a way out. You shake your head.

You want to see this as something good. So raising your drink up, it’s another cheers to him. This time Joel moves to toast you with his beer.

“I’d call this the strangest wedding reception ever but hey, I’ll take it.” Joel nods. His mountainous shoulders drop seemingly relaxed more.

You laugh, and for the first time, it feels like you’re sitting across a new friend now… who just happens to be your husband.

-

You and Joel start texting. It’s still a bit awkward, and he’s a dry texter which doesn’t help. You get tempted to send him Santa memes, but you’re not sure you can joke with him more.

You check your loans. They’re still there looming like a thick unmovable sludge. So he hasn’t paid it off yet.

Reality and acceptance settles in. This man, the embodiment of Christmas joy, is just that busy even though he said he wasn’t.

At least you helped, or maybe unknowingly sold your soul away and just don’t know it yet. Whatever it is, you slip back into your regular routine and head back to your mom’s.

Pulling up an unknown older red truck sits in front of the house, and you wonder who’s its owner.

Walking inside your mom announces she’s in the kitchen. Tools scattered along the table are a reliving sight. So it’s just the plumber she finally called.

“You didn’t tell me the guy you were seeing is a handy man.” Your mom whispers excitedly.

As if on cue Joel struts out from the bathroom looking something straight from a hallmark movie. The green plaid shirt he wears compliments him beautifully, and it’s hard not to stare at him and his delicious broad ass shoulders.

“Hey.” He greets with a half smirk.

“Was in the neighborhood, wanted to stop by and see if ya wanted to get dinner tonight. Then I remembered you telling me about your mom’s sink.”

You mentioned that during your first lunch with him. How did he remember?

Something soft, swirling with longing, fills your chest, and you try swallowing it back. As thanks, your mom happily suggests Joel joining for dinner here, and panic strikes you fast.

Joel grins bigger seeing you scramble to dissuade him. Of course he agrees.

You never would have guessed Joel ‘prickly as a Christmas cactus’ Miller is a charmer. He even pays for takeout much to your mother’s surprise.

“Didn’t know he was so much…older.” She hesitantly comments when he leaves.

“It’s been nice dating someone more mature.” You half lie. You aren’t ready to tell her the guy is your husband.

Later you text him thanks for fixing the sink and for dinner.

What are husbands for? He replies back.

And you really wish you knew.

-

You’ve wanted to go see the trail of lights, but with your mom working late for the holidays and your friends out of town, you consider making the trip alone.

Until your phone rings.

Joel has now started calling you, simply to chat, ask about how your day is, even just to check up on you. It makes your heart jump.

“Whatcha up to?” His voice rumbles deep and wonderful over the phone.

“Wanted to go to the trail of lights but might skip. No one wants to go.” You sigh.

“I’ll go.” He quickly replies, and your head spins.

If you thought Joel in plaid was a deadly force, him in a thick winter brown coat that highlights his strong frame is an utter sight.

The array of candy colored lights coat the world in a beautiful celestial dream. You’re thankful it’s not busy tonight.

“I’ve always loved Christmas lights.” You admit. It’s one of your favorite parts of being back home.

Surprisingly, he curiously asks about you more, what brought you back home. You of course tell him the truth. Out of state college got too expensive in undergrad, and now going to grad school expenses started piling up.

“So I’m back home.” You simply shrug.

“Ain’t no shame in it.”

You beam at his earnest words.

“Y’know, I haven’t been here in so long.” Joel admits. “Used to come here with the girls all the time when they were little.”

Wanting to embrace this tiny step he’s taking, you ask what they’re like. A soft look, one molten and fatherly, blooms over his face. It suits him, like he was born to be a dad in any lifetime.

Sarah is his eldest, a sweetheart going to school to be a journalist. He had her when was young, way too young, and her mother wasn’t big on wanting to raise a kid at that age.

“So it was just the two of you?” You softly ask.

“Yup, until our Ellie came along.” He nods while another soft grin tugs at his lips.

He tells you Ellie is adopted.

“S’actually a wild story.” Joel begins. “Found her during a run.”

A run, you learn quickly, is when he’s out on Christmas Eve.

“Newborn baby crying on the edge of the fire station. It was freezing as shit that night. Couldn’t just leave her there.” He mutters lost in the memory.

You and him have slowed your walk, now almost glued to each other side by side.

“Was a goddamn miracle.” He adds nodding.

“That’s beautiful, Joel.” You admire, meaning your words.

He goes on telling you Ellie’s already working in her last year of high school, ready to move out, be on her own, ready to start college.

“So I bet when they were kids they were thrilled to know their dad was… who you are.” You state with a warm grin.

Joel barks hollow.

“Couldn’t even threaten them with the naughty list deal. To them I’ll always be dad.” His voice twinkles, it’s like peeling away at the rough exterior to realize Joel is just an extra toasty marshmallow.

He’s still so warm and soft on the inside.

“Can I ask… how did it happen?” You’re worried he’s going to shut you out like he did last time.

But a heavy exhale leaves him. And he tells you…

About a night driving home during the bad snow storm that came many years ago. He stopped to help this man on the side of the road, who he assumed was a mall Santa that had gotten into an accident.

“Instead it was the real fucking deal.”

After that, the previous holder of the title passed away, leaving Joel to take up the mantle.

“Had to say yes,” he says with a shrug. “Even at five years old Sarah was bossin’ me around, telling me I had to…. Haven’t regretted it since.”

Iridescent adoration swallows your body whole begging you to embrace Joel Miller wholly.

“It’s wonderful. It’s brought you so many amazing things,” You can’t even hide your admiration anymore, don’t want to. You don’t want to fight this. You’d be his real fake wife for long as he would let you.

Joel’s face turns to you. His eyes glance straight into your very being, the lights dance among his endless earthen eyes. You want to get lost in the twinkle, already hating how badly you feel drawn to this man.

You try taking in every ounce of Joel here under the cloak of lights. He’s a dream, this fake husband of yours, one that feels like you’re simply allowed to admire but never touch.

Being this close to him, your eyes unfortunately drift to his lips. How bad would it be to kiss this man?

There’s plenty of songs about kissing Santa Claus. Would you simply not be embracing the holiday spirit?

A distant car horn honks and causes you to jump, breaking the hypnotic spell Joel has cast on you. Walking out, sadly heading home, you finally notice something.

It could be the shade of the lights, but the greys in Joel’s beard are starting to appear white.

-

The week before Christmas is a chaotic cluster. So much cleaning and shopping, you want to scream. Joel calls you while you’re braving the mall.

“You sound exhausted, honey.” He says, and the pet name isn’t lost on you.

But it is lost on your rant though. You’re exhausted from trying to find these specific dang muffins your grandmother only refuses to eat while also trying to find a gift for your cousins.

“Gift cards are a lifesaver for a reason.” He comments casually.

“You grant Christmas wishes for a living, and that’s your answer.” You snort.

“I’ve delivered my share of ‘em, so hell yeah they are.”

Even in the mess of the mall’s chaos you laugh. In such a short amount of time, Joel’s presence in your life has solidified steady, unwavering, like he’s always been here. Long chats on drives home, him dropping by with groceries to deliver, it all unfolds so natural. You’re even heading over tonight to have dinner with him and his brother Tommy.

Once you’re back in the car, you notice a new bag sitting in the backseat.

Reacting in you discover not only the damn elusive dinner rolls you’ve been searching for, but a pack of gift cards.

A sticky note sits on top of them.

Don’t hate the gift card

-J

You blame the Yuletide spirit in the air, but your heart soars. It’s like you’ve been swept into a Christmas special. But, you’re waiting for the bad ending to come.

These feelings for Joel have only multiplied, taking root deeper in your heart. The sugared admiration for him now grows fangs becoming a dazed lust. You’ve had dreams of him sweaty and golden above you in bed. You ache to know what he sounds like, to know the feeling of him inside you, to get drunk on his taste.

Heading over to Joel’s you kick away those dangerous thoughts you have for your husband.

A sweet woman answers the door, who introduces herself as Maria, Tommy’s wife.

“Nice to finally meet Joel’s not so secret, secret wife.” She grins. Guess that meant she knew the secret too.

She knows more than you even do as she guides you out back. The shed sitting in the corner of the backyard is unassuming. Yet when you step inside, a full workshop, the size of a Costco, stands glimmering before you.

“It never gets old.” Maria whispers, sensing your stunned awe.

Joel finally steps into view, and you’re taken back. The white among his beard sits stronger. He’s in more comfortable clothes and the gray sweatpants are sinful on him. The sight of his strong arms, his tummy through his tight white shirt, all make you think of biting into his skin -

You yank yourself out of the feral thoughts. Especially when Joel spots you. He blinks, just as stunned as you are.

“Hey, sorry. Got shit tied up here. Y’don’t gotta stay, might not be done until... fuck I don’t even know when.” He sighs, running a hand across his face.

“Can I help?” You blurt out.

Joel blinks at you, almost like he didn’t hear what you said and even squints a bit making him as old as he is.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You ask again.

Joel swallows. “You don’t, fuck...Ya don’t have to.”

You want to and determinedly tell him that.

His eyes widened like you just grew two heads. He recovers swiftly, nodding as he calls Tommy over. The younger Miller brother sees you and winks.

“Come on newbie, let’s getcha set up.”

You, Maria and Tommy are in charge of bulk orders making sure each package has the right amount and ready to be delivered.

“Does he… really have a list?” You ask with a whisper.

“Checks it twice too.” Tommy cheekily replies, and you laugh bubbling with disbelief, but apologize quickly.

“S’all good, trust me it took me a while to realize it’s real. But it’s something damn special once you do.”

You fully agree.

The night is long, but you don’t notice it. You get into a grove and get excited when Maria shows you some of the orders, children getting bikes, someone getting a new pair of shoes. It fills you with something luminous you can’t fully describe.

It’s a reward in itself when you finish a large order and high five Maria and Tommy.

“Well now, we finally get to meet the new Mrs. Joel Miller.” A new voice, smooth but curious, breaks the moment.

Behind you stand a small cluster of older men. You don’t know how, but you just know they’re all previous holders of the title of Father Christmas. It’s only confirmed when Tommy whispers it sharp to you. So these retired men were the ones pestering Joel.

“They usually drop by to do audits, checks and things, didn’t know they would be here this late.” Maria adds low.

“We’ve been wanting to stop by and give our congratulations, but Joel has been so keen on keeping you all to himself.” One of the older gentlemen winks.

You politely smile.

“You’re rather young.” Another man comments.

“Way too pretty for a grouch like Miller.” One, with a thick accent, teases with a grin.

Joel suddenly, as if summoned, comes rushing out from the side and immediately slides in front of you, a protective barrier.

“You’re running a bit behind schedule.” The snarkiest of the men comments to Joel. “Guess the new wife really has been keeping you away.”

Your face scrunches up pissed now, until Joel’s hand moves to hold yours, squeezing it tight.

“He even has you helping, dear?” One of the quieter men asks you, concerned.

“I’m happy to help.” You truthfully answer steady and firm.

You want to be a part of this as much as Joel allows. Not just because you’re his paper wife, but because you care for him.

All of the previous Santas now seem to survey you, practically staring straight into your soul.

“If you gentlemen are done harassing my wife I suggest y’all fuckin’ head home.” Joel barks sharp.

One of them scoffs at this reply.

The main leader of the group glances at you then back to Joel.

“You picked a good one, Joel.” He smiles with a chuckle.

“You take care of this grouch now, pretty lady.” The sweetest of the men beams at you, a twinkle in his eye.

“Get out.” Joel snaps cold, holding your hand tighter than ever.

In a blink, they’re before you, and the next, they’re gone, vanished into the wind.

Your legs feel like they’re about to give out, and you have to lean against Joel who sighs with the same relief.

In the rush, you swear you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head. Tommy and Maria greet you proud. You return back to your station, back to helping.

Until you realize it’s past 1 in the morning, and you can barely keep your eyes open.

“Hey, crash here for the night.” Joel appears besides you, steadying your arm.

“I’ll be fine, I can drive home.” You reassure him through an unconvincing yawn.

“No. You don’t need to. S’cold as hell out there, just stay here.��� He urges, and you don’t want to fight him.

So you’re given the guest room and a spare change of clothes, which include an oversized UT Longhorns shirt and sweats, both obviously Joel’s.

Sliding his shirt on, your heart races. The exhaustion, you blame it on the exhaustion, when you pull his shirt up to inhale deeply. The smell is soft, comforting, a mixture of his cologne and something purely musk, purely Joel.

You wonder how bad it would be to touch yourself in his guest room. Glancing out the door to see if you’re alone, that’s when you catch a glimpse of Joel down the hall.

Busy looking at his phone, he’s shirtless and a decadent sight. You fully take in his solid build, the look of a man. His sweatpants have slung lower, revealing the thick trail of hair leading down to his cock. The pudge of his belly is beautiful.

He’s beautiful, and you want him more than anything.

The next morning he’s gone, already hard at work. You enjoy breakfast with Maria and Tommy who you already adore even more.

“Don’t be a stranger now, it’s nice to have a new face around. Plus Joel can’t stop talking about you.” Maria’s words almost make you spit out your tea.

Tommy snickers at your reaction.

Driving back to your mom’s, you already miss the chaos of the Miller household. Arriving home, your heart sinks seeing your relatives have arrived early.

“Oh, back from staying over at a guy’s house? Maybe you’ll finally get a boyfriend that stays around long enough.” Even though your Aunt is trying to be teasing, you already wish she could leave.

“I think he’s a keeper. He’s older too.” You mom explains with a slow whisper, and you send her a look.

Everyone unfortunately perks up at that.

“Really? Well, you know what they say, you should always question why a man doesn’t date a woman his age.” Your Aunt, with such a judgmental tone, tries to sound sincere but it slices you deep.

“It’s not like that.” You reply feeling a new sense of dread crawl in you.

“Is it a sugar daddy situation?” Your cousin jokes, and it gets too much.

You laugh bitter, fake, then head back to your room. You wish more than ever to crawl back to Joel’s.

Back in your room, something new sits waiting for you on your nightstand.

A flower, your favorite, in full bloom has a note tied to it.

Thanks for all the help

This time Joel signs his name with a little scribbled heart.

You cherish it more than gold.

-

“I…won’t be available these new few days.” Joel reveals, almost sounds guilty.

It’s the first time you’ve finally gotten the chance to talk with him free from curious family members trying to eavesdrop.

Here in the dead of night, your heart aches for him.

“I know, kinda figured.” You grin.

He chuckles.

Suddenly a selfish thought tugs at you.

The image has been plaguing you more and more. Does dress up in full Santa gear? He has to, right?

“So do you…fully wear the whole thing? The red suit? White hat?” You ask, waiting for the answer.

“…if I say yes, are ya gonna divorce me?” Joel replies gruff.

You laugh but rush to quiet down trying not to wake anyone. But you reassure him there's no need for divorce.

“Just… kinda wish I could see it.” You admit, feeling greedy wanting to witness the sight.

Joel stays quiet.

“Maybe one day.” He mutters.

“Yeah…” maybe one day.

“Stay safe out there.” You tell him when you hear him yawning more. “And get all the rest you can.”

“Yes ma’am.” He drawls, and you melt.

You don’t hear from him after that.

You deal with more annoying family members. Enjoy some delicious cozy food. All while missing Joel.

Waking up Christmas Eve morning, you see an email.

All your loans are paid in full. It wasn’t just your loans, but your mother’s. Completely debt free - both of you. She cries. You even get teary eyed.

One of your uncles makes a dumb joke about it maybe being a mistake.

“It’s a blessing,” your mom says, grateful.

“No, it’s a gift from Santa.” You beam, knowing no one would believe you.

However, a new fear starts morphing in you.

What did this mean for you and Joel? Is the contract completed? Is this over? Was it only to say he had a wife on paper, parade you as proof, then… never speak to him again?

The questions pester and haunt you the entire rest of the day.

Then night creeps in.

“You wanna leave cookies out for Santa?” Your mom jokes seeing you grab a plate.

“Maybe, but I think I might leave out a beer too.” You reply and she laughs.

Once everyone heads to bed and leaves back to their hotels, you sneak into the living room.

Never in your life would you have imagined ever needing to wait up to see Santa. Much less as a full adult.

And it proves to be a true test of endurance. You doze off a few times but quickly snap your eyes open, worried you’ll miss him.

Checking the time, it’s almost midnight. Of all the nights you want to stay up, fighting asleep is harder than ever.

You don’t even realize your eyes have closed until the softest graze of fingers against your cheek wakes you.

Panicked, scrambling awake, you snap your eyes open and whisper Joel’s name.

Finally blinking into focus, there’s no sign of anyone here.

“Y’left out a beer for me?”

Until the softest smoothest thick accent floats out into the quiet of your living room. You left the tv on, and the light of it blends with the glow from the Christmas tree. It bathes Joel in something sublime.

No classic Santa hat sits on his head, but the way his hair is scruffy and flat, he must have been wearing it before.

But the sight of him in the crimson suit, the soft white fur lined edges of the coat, how bulky and strong he looks… You’re reminded of a rugged cowboy Santa.

It all ignites a wildfire, and now you’re wide awake scrambling out of the blankets to get to him.

Not thinking, almost possessed by some ghost of Christmas present, you rush forward and embrace him. His body, sturdy and solid, radiates a warmth that encompasses you.

“What are ya doing up?” He whispers low while you clutch onto him. You need to touch him with your own hands, feel he’s real. You also don’t miss the gloved hands against your hips.

“Had to see you.” You croak out.

You pull back to look at him.

Finally, you take him in. It’s Joel, the same grumpy Joel that’s changed the oil for your car, who has a soft spot for the stray cats in his neighborhood, and is an amazing father - but it all collides with the truth of who he really is.

A watery laugh comes out of you and you hate that immediately you’re blinking away tears.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Joel immediately asks worried, letting his hands move to rest on your arms, a comforting presence.

You reassure him it’s nothing, trying to wave this reaction off.

“You gotta tell me what’s wrong or else Christmas stops and it’ll all be your fault.” His tone is somber, but you sense the tease, a classic Joel joke among his words.

Shaking your head, you wipe away more tears frustrated at your reaction. Then his hand, gloved but striking in size, cradles your face, and he gently strokes your cheek. Joel turns your face to him.

“Talk to me, honey please.”

You don’t know how to express everything that’s in your heart. It all feels too much - the conflict of realizing where you stand with him, the doubt that brews wondering if he even holds the same affection for you.

“I don’t wanna lose you.” You admit weakly.

It’s that you can muster out, all that you can do to sum up the bundle of emotions storming in your heart.

Joel’s eyebrows furrow. His mouth drops a bit. In the low light, the shadows on his face deepen like caverns aging him beautifully.

“M’not going anywhere. You won’t lose me.” He reassures, even squeezing your face soft.

Those endless eyes that normally stare so direct and with such a magnetic force, now flicker away almost boyish and shy.

“I’m the one afraid of losin’ you.” He mutters, like he’s admitting it more to himself.

His words unwrap your heart releasing so many emotions.

“Joel.” You whisper, a bit hesitant, and his gaze draws back to you.

He seems closer now, his coal-like eyes brewing something untouchable. Silence, a soft shift settles, you taking him in, and him doing the same for you.

You don’t know who moves first. But in a blink his lips descend onto yours.

His mustache tickles. His lips hold a hint of something sweet sugary, indulgent, or you wonder if that’s just Joel.

Strong gloved hands clutch onto you holding your tighter against his frame. He tilts your head, allowing him to kiss you deeper, and your mouth willingly opens begging for more of him.

It isn’t lost on you that you’re kissing Santa Claus, like a cheesy holiday song. But it’s the fact that you’re kissing Joel Miller that melts everything away.

Your fingers find his hair, running through his soft gray locks you’ve dreamed about. Joel groans, and you already want more.

With ease, he lifts you up with one arm and you squeak into his mouth. His chuckle vibrates against your lips, ticklish, until he starts to kiss your jaw, nibbling on the path of your skin.

You sigh, closing your eyes and drawing him closer when he places you back on the couch. Your legs curl against his waist, locking him in as you try molding into him, with him, as much as you can.

His lips find yours again, this time there’s a fevered edge to them. His tongue is messy, licking into your mouth desperate. You moan when he sucks on your tongue.

A blazing hunger takes over making your hips grind against him. Feeling his gloved hands slide up your legs, you whine digging into him harder.

Until he suddenly rips himself away, leaving you feeling empty missing his warmth and body against you.

“Shit…Really gotta go, honey. I can’t say.” Joel sighs. His heavy breathing, the tightness of his jaw, this is as hard for him as it is for you.

“Can’t you be a little late?” You softly question rising back up to kiss up his scruffy beard.

He groans when you softly kitten lick at his upper lip.

“Fuckin’ naughty little thing.” Joel growls.

You softly kiss his lips again.

“Guess that means I’m on the naughty list huh?” The joke slips out, and you already want to hide after hearing yourself.

Joel groans, but this time it’s ripe with embarrassment. You hide your face while he snickers.

“That was bad.”

“I know,” you agree mortified.

Even in your embarrassment, Joel presses a kiss to the crown of your head, and every worry melts away.

He stands up, pulling you gently up with him. Gathering you into his arms, this time Joel feels larger than life but also closer than ever, like he’s stitched inside your heart now.

“When will I see you again?” You hate how badly you miss him already.

“Soon, I promise.” He reassures rubbing your back softly, and you nod back.

His hand moves to hold your face again, gently, like you’re a precious treasure.

And you think he might be yours.

Joel kisses you, the softest sweetest press of his lips that melts into your bones. And when you open your eyes, he’s gone.

All that’s left are the faintest hints of snow flurries on your living room floor…

And of course he made sure to take his beer.

-

When Joel said he’d see you soon, you didn’t think it would be the next morning, Christmas morning.

Softly a hand brushes against your face, slowly waking you. You find yourself back in your bedroom. The soft glow of the winter morning spreads a gentle light that covers your room.

Joel is here, kneeling beside your bed, and immediately you turn towards him.

In this light, his greys look softer, thicker in their shade, like beautiful white streams run from his temples. And his beard looks as if snow flurries have been peppered in more. The red velvet of his suit looks brighter. Your fingers run across the fabric, across his shoulders.

You whisper his name, yet a sadness creeps in again.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he nods.

“Are you okay… with us?” It’s a stumbled way to ask, but it’s all you can get out.

Is he okay that you’re much younger than him?

“Yeah, of course.” He nods.

“Actually, Ellie and Sarah were the ones who told me to go for it.” He admits fondly, sleepily.

“They said I needed to be selfish for once, let myself have this…”

His eyes watch you as you sit up to reach him.

“Is that why you were so cold when we first met?” You ask.

Joel nods, sighing.

“Felt awful knowing I was doing this to you, someone so dang young, so fuckin’ beautiful. Hated that you were stuck with a mess of ‘n old man like me.”

“I’d pick you everytime.” The words escape fast. You can’t even stop them.

Instantly he swoops in kissing you with an unchained passion that makes you dizzy.

Immediately you tug at him, begging him to crawl onto the bed. You sigh in bliss when he does, making your mattress creak ever slightly with his glorious solid frame.

His kisses are drenched in a poison intoxicating you.

Clutching onto Joel’s shoulders, you lift your hips when his gloved hands tug at your pj pants.

That’s when you hear the faint laughter of everyone downstairs awake. You freeze. Joel senses your hesitation. That gorgeous nose of his nuzzles against your jaw breathing in the scent of you.

“Y’gonna be a good girl and keep quiet for me?” His thick low voice is all you need because you’re nodding yanking at his shoulders to kiss him again.

This kiss dances along the edge of something fierce and wild, like you’re trying to contain it, hold it back before it spreads and someone hears.

Until Joel’s gloved fingers slip inside your wet heat, and you slap a hand over your mouth to hold back a moan. Feeling his black leather glove inside you has your eyes roll back. Then when you rest your head against the soft fur lining of his coat, it creates such a dizzying sensation you want to get lost in.

“Oh fuck.” He drawls, hoarse.

His fingers pump in and out of you, and the squelch of your wetness sounds downright obscene now. Joel revels in it.

“Letting this ol’ man winter fuck ya while everyone’s down stairs waiting…Y’like that baby?”

You whimper, nodding, clutching onto him harder trying so hard to keep quiet. Then he removes them from your pussy and you whimper at the loss.

Until he draws his gloved fingers, shining and coat in your arousal, up to your lips.

“Can ya clean ‘em off for me?” He mutters.

Without hesitation you pull them into your mouth and suck, letting your tongue wiggle across the leather. You moan tasting this union of you and the leather.

“Shit,” Joel croaks like he got punched in the gut.

Quickly he yanks his hand out from your mouth, rips his gloves off and kisses you feverish.

“Need to feel ya.” He sounds drunk as you feel, even more when his bare fingers thick and warm slip into you again.

He makes you come so fast it knocks you breathless, feeling hot even with the cooler temperature in the room. You whisper begging him to fuck you, to take you here before he heads home -

“Can’t darlin’, but soon I will. I promise.” He reassures you kissing your lips over and over.

“And Santa always keeps his promises, yeah?”

That shouldn’t be so hot, but it is. You greedily kiss him, trying to devour him even more.

“Jesus,” he growls, his accent thicker than ever. “Makin’ it so fuckin’ hard to leave.”

“Then don’t.” You beg.

But then the voices downstairs get louder, and the smell of food warming up floats in.

Joel sighs deflated. You know this is the end for now.

Rubbing his wonderful nose against yours, you lean to press your forehead to his. He breathes out your name, and it sounds like a blessing.

“Merry Christmas, honey.” He whispers softly to you.

A knock comes at your door, and in a panic you drag your blanket up around you.

“You awake yet?” Your mom jokingly asks.

You definitely are now. Of course Joel has vanished.

But something tickles the top of your head. Bundles of mistletoe, twisted among so many lovely ribbons, bloom all along your bed frame.

-

One Christmas Later

“Did I ever show you the shirt Ellie and Sarah sent me last week?” You ask, and Joel, half paying attention, hums.

He pulls his attention away from the Dallas Cowboys game long enough to glance at your phone.

The shirt reads - Mrs Claus but Married to the Grinch

He rolls his eyes, not finding it as amusing as his daughters did.

“Or what about this one.” You show him the next option.

This one, in bright gold lettering, says - Santa’s Sexy Girlfriend

“No.” He flat out pushes the phone away making you laugh and lean against his strong shoulder.

This would be the last night before he heads out on his run. This will also be the first night you get to see him leave, and the first night you’ll get to wait for him now living at his home.

The memories and days that have brought you here are strung up in your heart, luminous multi colored tinsel you never want to take down.

“It’s actually one of the first years we’re ahead of schedule,” Tommy says when you greet him back at the workshop.

“That wife of yours is really something.” Though Tommy talks directly to his brother he makes sure to wink at you.

You’re grateful you got to help out more this year, even enjoyed having Ellie and Sarah around when they came by to visit. But with Ellie now enjoying time with the girl she desperately has a crush on, and Sarah taking the day to spend time with her new boyfriend, it really would just be you and Joel.

A delicious heat crawls in you knowing what you had waiting for him.

But you almost forget about it when you start helping Joel get dressed.

Your throat dries seeing him buckle up his crimson pants, then helping him slide his thick coat on and how broad it accentuates his shoulders…

“You keep lookin’ at me like we’re gonna get behind schedule.” Joel mutters sinful.

“We’re ahead of schedule. We could…mess around for a bit.” You offer light.

“No, being ahead means I can come home earlier.” He very playfully and lightly smacks your ass.

You hate when he’s right.

With a kiss goodbye you send him off returning to the quiet home. You’ll have a day and a half before Joel officially returns. So you spend your time binging multiple movies.

You’re also thankful for the stash of extra cookies you finally found. Joel ‘I ain’t got a sweet tooth’ Miller isn’t so slick with his hiding spots.

The film your best friend recommended is cheesy. But during the scene where the main love interest comes to interrupt the engagement party to announce he loves the bride, cause you to pause.

In theory, you are Joel’s wife. Your mom even jokes that she practically has the most perfect unofficial son in law, if only if she knew the truth. Yet, you don’t have a ring, don’t even use Miller as your last name.

It’s silly, you tell yourself and try not to think about it too much.

So you instead enjoy more cozy snacks and the rare bits of snow Austin is getting this time of year. It’s magical, paints the world like something straight from a Thomas Kinkade dream.

The morning comes when Joel will be home, and you sit waiting on the bed. Don’t even mind you work up early for this.

Earlier confidence surged in you when you slipped into the gorgeous lingerie set. Now it itches on your skin as you sit worried. The bow sitting on your bra might be too much. You almost bought the cute risqué Santa nightgown, but you hesitated.

You didn’t feel like you could truly even joke about being Mrs Claus when you didn't even fully consider yourself Mrs Miller.

“Honey?” Joel announces stepping into the house, and your heart jumps into your throat.

“In here!” You yell back.

Waiting on the bed feels like an eternity passes before Joel opens the door. There’s still snow on his shoulders. His hair is starting to grow out more so it curls around his ears. He’s never looked more gorgeous.

Then his face falls and his eyes become full moons taking in the sight of you before him.

“Oh baby,” he whispers like he can’t believe his eyes.

You grin sleepy.

With eased measured steps Joel walks forward, and you’re reminded of a hunter trying to approach his prey.

He drags his fingers, ungloved, warm and callous from all the hard work he does, up your exposed skin leaving a trial of heat in their wake.

“Can I unwrap my present?” He mutters, allowing his fingers to drift with. Delicate touch across the top of your breast barely kept in by the lace covered bra.

“Yeah, Joel please.” You sigh, closing your eyes when his large hand suddenly grasps, squeezing your breast.

The poor lingerie doesn’t make it out alive.

Now you drift in and out of sleep, naked in his arms. Joel kisses your forehead promising he’ll buy you as many new sets as you want.

“Merry Christmas to both of us.” You dryly joke.

He laughs, but it sounds a bit weak, more like a cough.

“Uh, speaking of Christmas gift… y’want yours now or later when we wake up?”

That makes you bolt up fast from his arms.

“I told you not to get me anything, Miller.” You protest, glaring at him.

Joel rolls his eyes.

“You’re telling me of all people not to get you something?” He scoffs.

“Then I don’t want it.” You stubbornly pout back.

“Alrighty then, I’ll return it tomorrow.” Sleepily he shrugs and turns on his side giving you full sight of his glorious sun kissed bare back. You try not to linger on the scratch marks you left behind.

Now you persistently tell him to give it to you.

“Sounds like what you were saying a few minutes ago.” He teases with a smirk glancing over to you from his shoulder.

Now you roll your eyes.

“Give me the gift Miller, or else.” You shake his shoulder trying to sound somber like Joel himself, but a smile tugs at your lips.

Dramatically, he groans sitting up.

“Making an old man like me get up after the long ass night I had.” He says reaching over to his nightstand.

“Oh please, if I asked you to go another round you would.” You scoff.

“You wanna?” He asks with a curious mutter, and you shove his shoulder again playful.

“Fine, fine.” Joel grumbles.

After reaching under the bed, he returns back with a box…covered in dinosaur wrapping paper.

“Look, it was the only one I had left over here.” He explains seeing your confusion.

“Joel, you work at a magical workshop where there's an endless supply of cute Christmas wrapping paper. Why didn’t you grab some?!” You laugh.

“Didn’t wanna mess up the inventory.” He huffs, grumpy and classically Joel.

“You gonna open it or am I gonna have to hide it again?”

At his words you greedily rip off the paper.

You guess by the size it looked like a shoe box and it is, a familiar box you thought you threw away. Now you’re confused.

Opening it, inside is an even smaller box. This one is classically wrapped in green and red with a shining bow on top.

But when you pick it up, you discover the tiny box is heavy. There’s also a latch at the back begging for you to lift and open.

Inside sits a ring, dancing with a shimmering sparkle.

You already fight back the tears.

Is this what you think it is?

Whipping your face to Joel he seems hesitant, worried, while he keeps his focus on you.

“I know we might’ve done this backwards but…” he reaches for the ring, gingerly pulling it out.

“Wanna make it official now.”

You inhale sharp.

“Honey I’ll get down on one knee if you want, but might take me a while to get back up…” he jokes, but the edge of his voice is watery, shaky, like he’s the one barely holding on.

“But…will you marry me again-”

You don’t even let him finish before you rush to kiss him. The tears come, fast and free like a wave, but they’re beautiful. You embrace it all.

Joel slides the ring in your finger. The weight of the beautiful metal feels wonderful against your skin, but you don’t notice it. Not when you’re swept up in making love to your Joel, your fiancé.

The love bursting through your heart could swallow you whole and you would let it.

“I love you,” he admits against your skin, breathing out like he’s finally found a moment of rest.

“I love you too.” You rub his back soaking in the bliss among the sweat and heat of his body against yours.

It’s just you and your Mr Claus.

“I’m glad Santa granted my wish.” You mutter dreamy, not caring how embarrassing you sound.

That is until Joel lifts his head up, those wonderful eyes of his shine brighter than any northern star.

“Mine too, honey.” He mutters, kissing you tenderly, a sweet promise of more beautiful Christmas days to come.

[patricia-taxxon]

i tried to find armoured skeptic's really old flat earth debunking video, it came out in a time where it might've taken me into the anti-sjw cloud, but it doesn't seem to exist anymore. i remember it being really really unconvincing, like i think he claimed that the horizon would look flat from ANY elevation? somehow? and when the flat earther said there should be stellar parallax from earth's orbit mr skeptic basically said "no, there shouldn't be, because stars are billions of light years away" even though they are much closer than that and there is stellar parallax as a result. how do u fumble debunking flat earth

[ghostlyreader09]

snapshots of love

kento nanami x (y/n)

enjoy!!! (i had yellow by coldplay in mind for this so give it a listen for a better experience!)

age 5: the garden grew twice

Kento Nanami was a quiet boy even at five, one who preferred the rhythm of solitude to the clamor of the playground. He found comfort in routine: the deliberate brushing of crumbs off a table, the orderly rows of books in the school library, the steady sound of his grandmother humming while she watered her garden. The world was large, loud, and unpredictable, but here in her small backyard, with the soil under his knees and the scent of marigolds in the air, he could carve out a piece of peace.

You arrived like a pebble breaking the still surface of a pond. His grandmother had called you over from next door, her words soft and warm as she introduced the neighbor’s granddaughter. Your sunhat was comically oversized, the wide brim flopping over your forehead. Dirt already streaked your cheeks, evidence of earlier mischief, but your eyes sparkled beneath the shade of the hat. Kento stared, unsure of what to make of you.

“I’m here to help!” you declared, hands on your hips, as though you’d been assigned a mission of the utmost importance. Without waiting for an invitation, you dropped to your knees beside him, your skirt pooling in the dirt.

Kento said nothing. He liked quiet, and you didn’t seem to understand the concept.

“These seeds,” you said, holding up a handful of tiny kernels, “are going to turn into the biggest sunflowers you’ve ever seen.”

“They’re just seeds,” he replied, his voice flat.

You gasped, as though he’d insulted something sacred. “They’re not just anything! They’re magic. But only if we treat them right.”

“Magic?”

“Yup.” You nodded, utterly serious. “You have to talk to them. Cheer them on. Plants grow better when they feel loved.”

Kento frowned, skeptical. His grandmother had never spoken to her flowers—she simply tended to them with care. He returned to pulling weeds, dismissing your words as nonsense. But you were undeterred. With a dramatic flourish, you buried a seed in the soil, patted the dirt gently, and leaned down until your nose was almost touching the ground.

“You’re going to grow so tall,” you whispered to the seed, your voice soft and encouraging. “You’ll reach the sky one day.”

Kento watched, equal parts amused and baffled. Your determination was infectious, though he would have never admitted it aloud.

“Your turn,” you said, holding out a single seed to him.

He hesitated, his hand hovering over the seed in your palm. The idea of speaking to a plant seemed absurd. But your gaze was expectant, your eyes wide with the kind of belief only children possessed, and he couldn’t bring himself to refuse. Taking the seed, he pressed it into the soil and stared at it for a long moment.

“Grow,” he mumbled awkwardly.

You giggled, the sound as bright as sunlight breaking through clouds. “See? Now it knows you care.”

Weeks passed, and the garden bloomed as it always did. Kento had all but forgotten about the sunflowers until the day his grandmother called him outside. The air smelled of earth and rain, and the garden was alive with color. But it was the sunflowers that stopped him in his tracks.

Two rows of golden giants swayed gently in the breeze, their faces turned toward the sun. The first row was neat and orderly, the product of his grandmother’s careful planting. But the second row—slightly smaller, slightly wilder—was unmistakably yours.

Kento’s grandmother marveled at the sight, running her fingers along the sturdy stalks. “I didn’t plant these,” she said, her voice tinged with wonder. “How did they grow?”

Kento knew the answer but kept it to himself. He thought of your whispers, your dirt-streaked cheeks, the way you had spoken to the seeds as though they were friends. “(Y/N) told them to grow,” he muttered under his breath.

The next time you visited, he showed you the sunflowers, their golden heads bobbing in the wind. You beamed, your pride as radiant as the blooms themselves. “See? I told you they’d grow. They just needed someone to believe in them.”

Kento didn’t reply. He wasn’t good with words, especially when faced with your boundless enthusiasm. But he felt something stir in his chest as he looked at you, your eyes alight with joy.

It wasn’t love—not yet. He didn’t have the words for it, didn’t understand the quiet pull he felt toward you. But in that moment, standing beside you in the garden, he thought that maybe, just maybe, there was something magical about you after all.

Every time he passed by the sunflowers that summer, he thought of you. And every time, he felt that strange, inexplicable warmth bloom in his chest. Though he didn’t know it then, it was the first seed of something much bigger, something that would grow in the quiet corners of his heart, waiting for the right moment to bloom.

————

age 8: the day the sky broke

Kento Nanami wasn’t the sort of boy who ran headlong into chaos. He was deliberate, careful, and observant, already displaying a maturity that made him seem older than his ten years. At a glance, he might have seemed stoic or cold, but really, he was just trying to keep his balance in a world that often felt unsteady.

That day had begun with the heaviness of an oncoming storm. The sky hung low, bruised with dark clouds that rolled in like soldiers marching to battle. The air was thick and electric, and even the chatter of his classmates felt muffled, like everyone was holding their breath. Kento didn’t care for storms. Rain turned the ground slick and treacherous, and thunder rattled the air like a drumbeat announcing that everything could fall apart at any moment. He preferred days of clear skies and dry ground, where everything made sense and stayed where it was supposed to.

At recess, Kento had retreated to the edge of the playground, sitting under the shelter of the old swing set with a library book balanced on his knees. He wasn’t really reading—he’d read the same sentence three times without absorbing a word—but the act of holding the book gave him an excuse to stay apart from the noisy groups of children. It wasn’t that he disliked them, exactly. He just found their energy overwhelming, their laughter grating when it stretched too loud.

But then there was you.

You were part of the noise, part of the wild tangle of voices that raced across the field, but Kento had always thought you were different. You weren’t the kind of loud that made him want to retreat further into himself. Your laughter, for some reason, felt softer. More inviting. It didn’t push—it pulled.

He watched you now from the corner of his eye as you darted across the field, your ponytail swinging behind you like a banner. You were playing tag, your arms outstretched as you chased another kid, your sneakers kicking up clouds of dust. Even from a distance, Kento could see the determination on your face, the fire in your eyes. You ran like you had no intention of ever slowing down, like the world would simply have to keep up with you.

And then, as if on cue, the first drops of rain began to fall.

It started as a whisper, soft and tentative, but within moments, it was a roar. The sky opened up, unleashing sheets of water that drenched the playground in seconds. The other kids scattered, squealing as they raced for cover under the small awning near the swings. Kento closed his book, tucking it carefully into his bag to protect it from the damp.

But you didn’t run.

He saw you stop in the middle of the field, tilting your head back as the rain poured down. You stood perfectly still, your arms slack at your sides, your face upturned toward the sky. For a moment, Kento thought you were frozen, caught off guard by the sudden storm. But then you moved.

You spread your arms wide and spun in a slow, deliberate circle, your sneakers splashing in the growing puddles. Your laughter rang out across the playground, bright and unrestrained, cutting through the gray like a ray of sunlight.

Kento stared, unsure whether to feel embarrassed for you or annoyed by your recklessness. “What are you doing?” he muttered under his breath, though no one could hear him.

The other kids huddled under the awning, their jackets pulled tight around their shoulders as they whispered and pointed at you. Kento thought about joining them, about blending into the safety of the group. But something kept him rooted to the spot.

“Come back!” one of the kids yelled, their voice barely audible over the pounding rain.

You didn’t listen. Instead, you looked toward the awning—toward him—and waved. “What are you all waiting for?” you shouted, your voice carrying through the storm. “It’s just water!”

Kento felt his cheeks flush. He couldn’t understand you, couldn’t fathom why anyone would willingly stay out in the rain when shelter was so close. You were soaked to the bone, your hair plastered to your forehead and your uniform clinging to your small frame. But you didn’t seem to care.

“Nanami!” you called, your grin wide and infectious. “Come on!”

He shook his head, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “No thanks,” he muttered, though you couldn’t hear him.

You shrugged, unbothered, and returned to your puddles. Kento told himself you were foolish, reckless, even childish, but he couldn’t look away. There was something mesmerizing about the way you moved, how you jumped from puddle to puddle with abandon, each splash sending arcs of water into the air. You looked so alive, like the rain was an old friend you were welcoming home.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of recess, you finally trudged back to the awning. You were dripping wet, your uniform a mess and your shoes squelching with every step, but your grin was as bright as ever. “You missed out,” you said, shaking water from your hair like a dog. “It was amazing.”

Kento frowned, reaching into his bag and pulling out the small towel he always carried. He handed it to you without a word, his gaze fixed on the ground.

“Thanks,” you said softly, wrapping the towel around your shoulders.

As the two of you walked back to class, the rain still falling in a steady rhythm, Kento found himself glancing at you from the corner of his eye. You were dripping and disheveled, but you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, you looked… content.

That night, as he lay in bed listening to the rain patter against his window, Kento thought about you. About the way you had defied the storm, how you had turned something most people avoided into something to celebrate. He thought about your laughter, about the way it had cut through the gray and made the world seem less heavy.

For the first time, he wondered what it might feel like to step into the rain.

And though he didn’t know it then, that day planted something new in Kento’s heart. It wasn’t a neat row of sunflowers like before. This was wilder, untamed, like the storm itself. It was the start of something that would grow quietly, steadily, until one day it became impossible to ignore.

————

age 10: summer nights of fireflys

The summer seemed to stretch forever, each day warmer than the last, the sun high and unrelenting. The grass, golden and dry from weeks without rain, brushed against Kento Nanami’s legs as he sat on the edge of the porch, staring out at the quiet yard. He loved these long afternoons, when the world seemed to settle into a slower rhythm, when even the cicadas’ hum became a steady companion to his thoughts.

The evening breeze was cooler, carrying with it the scent of pine and earth, and the last rays of sunlight kissed the edges of the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of pink and orange. A perfect summer evening.

But then there was you.

Kento watched from his perch on the porch, the heel of his sneaker dragging across the worn wood beneath him, as you darted across the yard, your small form a blur in the fading light. Your hair was wild and loose, the strands catching the glow of the sun like threads of copper and gold. You wore one of those old summer dresses with little flowers on it, the hem flying up as you ran.

“You’re going to trip, you know,” he called from his spot on the porch, though his voice lacked any real heat. He knew you weren’t listening, anyway.

“Don’t be boring, Nanami!” you shouted back, without looking over your shoulder. “Come help me! They’re getting away!”

You were chasing fireflies, darting after them with the kind of joy that Kento could only admire from a distance. Your arms reached out, fingers almost touching the glowing lights before they flitted away again, your laughter ringing through the air like a bell. Kento’s gaze lingered on you, a mix of exasperation and something else bubbling up in his chest, something he couldn’t quite name.

He was always like this, wasn’t he? Watching from the sidelines. But he couldn’t bring himself to join you, not when you were so carefree, so wrapped up in the magic of the evening. His feet stayed firmly planted on the porch, while you ran wild through the yard, your giggles like music in the air.

But then you stopped, just a little bit out of breath. Your arms hung at your sides as you took a moment to catch your breath, and Kento saw you glance at him.

“Don’t just sit there!” you yelled, waving both arms at him. “Come catch them with me!”

Kento sighed, knowing you wouldn’t stop calling until he came over. He wasn’t really sure what he would do once he joined you, but you were relentless, and it was easier to give in than to ignore you.

So, with a huff, he pushed himself off the porch, his shoes scraping against the wood as he walked toward you. “Fine, but I’m not going to run around like you,” he muttered, though there was an edge of amusement in his voice. “I’ll just watch.”

You didn’t say anything at first, but your smile grew wider as he joined you in the yard, his hands tucked in his pockets. “It’s all about the surprise,” you said, a wink flashing in your eye. “You have to surprise them. Sneak up like this.” You dropped to your knees in the grass, your hands poised like a cat’s paws.

Kento knelt beside you, unsure how to mimic your movements. He was used to doing things by the book, following the rules, being patient and quiet. But the way you approached the fireflies was something else entirely. It was more like playing hide-and-seek than anything else.

“Watch this!” you said, bouncing to your feet. Then you took a slow, exaggerated step forward, crouching low as if the fireflies might somehow notice her. You reached out with one hand, and in a moment of perfect timing, you cupped a firefly in your hand.

Kento blinked, his mouth slightly open in surprise. “You got it,” he said, his voice more stunned than impressed.

“See?” You opened your hands to reveal the tiny glowing insect resting in your palm. Its tiny body pulsed with light, the glow soft but steady. It seemed to shimmer in the last bits of daylight, small enough to fit in your palm like a secret.

Kento looked at your glowing hand for a moment before he nodded. “Okay. Let me try.”

He moved his hands carefully, trying to be as quiet as possible. But as he reached for one of the little lights, it darted away before he could catch it.

“Oh, no!” you exclaimed, laughing. “You scared it away! You have to be slower!”

Kento sighed, annoyed at himself. “I know. It’s harder than it looks.”

You giggled, not in a mean way, but in that way you did when you were trying to encourage him without mocking him. “It’s not hard,” you said, grinning. “Just watch me. You can do it. Don’t think too much. Just… reach out, slow and steady.”

Kento bit back a grin of his own. “Alright, alright.” He crouched down again, trying to copy your movements. This time, as his hand hovered close to one of the fireflies, he waited. The light blinked, bright against the dimming sky, and he made his move. Slowly, he reached out, cupping his hands together as you had done.

“Got it,” he said, the smile in his voice.

You cheered, jumping up and down. “See? I knew you could do it!” You pulled your hands back, showing him the tiny, glowing insect caught within his palms. The firefly buzzed softly, trying to free itself, but Kento held it gently, just tight enough to keep it safe.

For a long moment, the two of you just stood there, looking down at the tiny creature. It pulsed faintly in the dark, like a little heartbeat.

“You did it,” you said, breathless, your eyes wide. “That was amazing!”

Kento didn’t say anything at first, just letting his hands stay still, watching the way the light in his palm reflected in your eyes. You weren’t looking at him the way most people did—you weren’t waiting for him to say something clever or show off. You were just… there, in the moment with him.

“Thanks,” he said, finally looking up at you. His voice was quiet, almost shy.

You smiled, and there was something warm in that smile, something unspoken between you, as if the evening had somehow woven a secret thread connecting the two of you.

“I’m going to let it go now,” Kento said, his voice soft.

You nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

He slowly opened his hands, watching as the little firefly blinked once and then darted upward, disappearing into the night like a tiny star.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The only sound was the distant rustling of the trees and the occasional soft chime of crickets in the grass. The fireflies began to thin out as the night grew deeper, but Kento didn’t want to leave yet. The moment felt too fragile, like if he moved, it might shatter.

“I’m going to go in soon,” you said suddenly, turning toward your house.

“Yeah,” Kento replied, standing up and brushing the grass from his knees. “I should too.”

You didn’t walk away immediately, though. Instead, you lingered, the two of you standing side by side, your shadows long on the grass in the dimming light.

“Goodnight, Nanami,” you said finally, your voice soft and sincere.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he replied, a small, shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

As you turned and ran back toward the house, your dress fluttering behind you in the summer night, Kento watched you go. Something shifted inside him, something warm and quiet, like a secret he didn’t know how to name yet.

And for the first time, Kento realized that the fireflies weren’t the only things that had gotten away that night. He had, too—lost in the glow of your laughter, in the quiet magic of just being beside you.

————

age 13: maybe something more?

The sun was bright, almost too bright, as Kento Nanami stood in the schoolyard, his uniform pressed neatly, the edges of his shirt stiff against his skin. It was one of those mid-afternoon moments where the air felt thick with humidity, making even the simplest movement feel like a slow-motion effort. He hated the weight of it, how the sun seemed to burn into his back, leaving his skin feeling hot and sticky, despite the fact that school was over for the day.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants, trying to cool his palms. The yard was filled with the usual bustle of students—some laughing, some chasing after balls, others in animated groups exchanging stories from the day. But Kento wasn’t really paying attention to any of them.

His gaze was fixed on you.

You were a few steps away from him, talking to one of the girls from your class. You were laughing at something she’d said, your smile wide and unguarded, that familiar light in your eyes—bright, wild, and completely free. Kento didn’t know why, but he found himself watching you more often lately. Maybe it was how you seemed to move through life so effortlessly, like you didn’t carry the same weight of responsibility he did, or maybe it was how you could make something as simple as walking across the schoolyard look like a kind of magic.

He swallowed hard and looked away quickly, hoping no one noticed the way his thoughts seemed to linger on you. It wasn’t something he wanted to acknowledge, not just yet. Kento was always careful with his emotions, keeping them tightly locked away, like precious objects in a box. Feelings were distractions—he knew that much. They didn’t make sense, didn’t follow rules. But lately, there was a tug in his chest, something odd that stirred every time you laughed or looked his way, something that felt less like a choice and more like something inevitable.

“Oi, Nanami! What are you staring at?”

The voice pulled him from his thoughts with the sharpness of a well-aimed dart. He turned his head, only to see Gojo and Suguru standing just a few feet away, both of them grinning from ear to ear. Gojo’s expression was that of someone who’d just discovered the greatest secret in the universe, while Suguru had that mischievous glint in his eyes, the one that always preceded trouble.

Kento felt his cheeks flush, but he kept his gaze steady. He hadn’t even realized they were nearby.

“I wasn’t staring,” Kento muttered, his voice steady, but his heart rate spiking ever so slightly.

Gojo rolled his eyes dramatically, stepping closer, his hands raised in mock surrender. “Oh, come on, Nanami. Don’t act like we don’t know.” He leaned in, lowering his voice as though sharing the most scandalous gossip. “You’ve been eyeing (Y/N) like a hawk for weeks now. What’s going on, huh? You like her or something?”

Kento’s heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, he couldn’t find his words. The teasing was sharp, but not unkind, and it stung more than it should have. Gojo’s eyes gleamed with that playful arrogance that always made him impossible to ignore. Suguru, ever the instigator, leaned in with an exaggerated expression of curiosity.

“Well, Kento? Are you going to admit it? Have you caught feelings for (Y/N)?” Suguru’s grin stretched wider, knowing he had the upper hand.

Kento couldn’t suppress the heat rising in his cheeks, and he quickly averted his eyes, looking back down at the ground, though it did nothing to quell the nervous flutter in his stomach. Was it that obvious? Did they know?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kento muttered, but there was no bite to his words. It was almost a reflex, a defense against something he wasn’t ready to face. “I’m not interested in all that.”

Suguru gave him a knowing look. “Sure, sure,” he teased, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know, Nanami, it’s perfectly normal for a guy to like a girl. Don’t you think it’s a little strange to keep denying it?”

Gojo snorted in the background. “What he means to say is… maybe you’re afraid of her finding out you like her. You’ve got a crush, huh? That’s so cute.”

The words hung in the air like a heavy silence. It wasn’t that Kento didn’t know what a crush was. He’d seen his classmates laugh and blush when they talked about their crushes, and he understood the concept. But somehow, hearing it applied to him made his thoughts spin. Was it really a crush? Was he really feeling that way?

He couldn’t answer them, not right away. It was as if his words were tangled up with the feeling itself—something soft and confusing that was stirring inside him whenever you were near. He didn’t want to admit it, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He hadn’t just noticed you because you were always around. No, it was something deeper, something he didn’t know how to put into words.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kento muttered again, though it was a little less convincing this time.

Gojo laughed loudly, slinging an arm around Kento’s shoulders in that over-the-top, annoyingly affectionate way that always made Kento feel like a little kid again. “It’s fine, Nanami! We’ve all been there. I mean, come on, look at you. You’re practically glowing whenever you look at her. Your little ‘silent admiration’ thing is cute, but don’t you think it’s time to say something?”

“You’re both ridiculous,” Kento snapped, though the heat on his face was undeniable.

Suguru chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Hey, we’re just trying to help. So… what’s the plan? Are you going to keep pretending you don’t like her?”

Before Kento could respond, you walked over, still laughing with your friend, oblivious to the conversation happening just a few feet away. You gave a friendly wave in Kento’s direction, and his stomach lurched in a way he didn’t understand. His heart, as if on cue, gave a little jump, and his breath caught in his throat.

“See?” Gojo whispered to him, his voice low but teasing. “You can’t even look at her without getting all flustered. That’s your cue, Nanami. You’re whipped.”

Kento could only nod stiffly, his eyes following you as you walked past, his mind a flurry of thoughts he couldn’t quiet. Was he really being obvious? Was it possible that everyone could see it, even if he couldn’t bring himself to admit it?

You smiled at him, and something in Kento’s chest seemed to tighten. The world around him seemed to fade out for a moment, leaving only the soft sound of your laughter and the memory of your smile.

“Hey, Nanami,” you called, your voice light and carefree, like always. “You going to hang out with us later? There’s a movie marathon at my place.”

For a moment, Kento just stood there, unable to form a coherent thought. You were inviting him. You were inviting him to spend time with you. And that was when it hit him—the overwhelming flood of realization. It wasn’t just admiration. It wasn’t just a passing fancy. He liked you. He liked you in a way that felt like something real.

And the worst part? He was terrified. Terrified of what it meant, terrified of what would happen if he told you. He was sure of one thing, though—he couldn’t hide this feeling much longer.

“You should go,” Suguru said with a grin, nudging Kento in the ribs. “She’s waiting.”

Kento barely heard him. The only thing he could hear was the quiet pounding of his own heart, louder now than the teasing laughter of his friends.

“I’ll think about it,” he said finally, his voice softer than he intended.

You waved again, and for the first time, Kento didn’t feel the need to look away. He simply smiled back at you, quietly acknowledging the truth that he couldn’t deny anymore.

————

age 15: where the earth breathes life

The sky stretched endlessly above Jujutsu Sorcerer High, painted in hues of late-afternoon gold. A faint breeze swept across the training grounds, tugging at the edges of uniforms and sending whispers through the surrounding trees. Kento Nanami stood in the shade of one such tree, its branches sprawling like outstretched arms, a quiet sanctuary from the relentless sun.

His friends, Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto, were animated as ever, their voices blending into the hum of cicadas and the distant clash of training spells.

“Okay, okay, hear me out,” Gojo said, reclining against the base of the tree with his arms tucked behind his head. His infinity field shimmered faintly around him, a subtle but constant reminder of his strength. “If you had my technique—limitless and the Six Eyes—what’s the first thing you’d do with it?”

Suguru chuckled, twirling a loose strand of his dark hair between his fingers. “I wouldn’t waste it showing off like you, that’s for sure.”

“Showing off?” Gojo sat up straight, mock-offended. “I don’t show off. I demonstrate my genius. There’s a difference.”

Nanami exhaled through his nose, a small, barely perceptible laugh escaping him. He wasn’t one to get caught up in their endless banter, but their dynamic always managed to lighten the weight of the world they carried.

“And what about you, Nanami?” Suguru turned to him, tilting his head in genuine curiosity. “What would you do if your Ratio Technique wasn’t bound by limitations?”

Kento thought for a moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It’s not about pushing boundaries for the sake of power,” he said quietly. “It’s about precision. Control. Efficiency.”

“Always so serious,” Gojo teased, leaning closer with a grin. “You know, Nanami, you might actually smile if you loosened up a little.”

Before Kento could reply, the breeze shifted, carrying with it a faint, sweet scent—earthy, alive, and tinged with something floral. It was subtle at first, but it drew his attention like a thread pulling him toward something unseen.

“Do you smell that?” Suguru asked, straightening up.

Gojo sniffed the air dramatically. “Yeah, smells like…” He paused, his grin widening. “(Y/N).”

Kento froze. Your name landed like a weight in his chest, tugging at something he wasn’t prepared to confront. He followed the direction of the breeze, his eyes narrowing as he spotted a figure in the distance, standing at the edge of the practice field.

It was you.

You were alone, your back turned to them, your posture relaxed yet purposeful. Your hands hovered over the ground, and as Kento watched, a faint glow of cursed energy began to pulse around you. The energy wasn’t sharp or chaotic like so many techniques he’d seen before. It was soft, flowing, and alive, like the rhythm of a heartbeat.

He stepped away from the tree, drawn toward you before he realized what he was doing. Gojo and Suguru exchanged knowing looks but said nothing, letting him go.

From his vantage point, Kento could see the ground beneath your feet begin to change. Where there had been only dry earth and sparse grass, something miraculous began to bloom. A single green sprout pushed through the soil, followed by another, and another, until a field of lush wildflowers surrounded you, their vibrant colors swaying gently in the breeze.

But it didn’t stop there.

With a graceful wave of your hand, vines erupted from the earth, twisting and curling as they reached toward the sky. Trees grew in fast-forward, their trunks thickening and branches spreading wide, leaves unfurling in shades of deep green. It was as if the earth itself responded to your call, breathing life into the barren space around you.

Kento’s breath caught in his throat.

He’d seen you practice before, of course. You were a gifted sorcerer, your nature manipulation technique as unique as it was beautiful. But this—this was different. There was something about the way you moved, the way your cursed energy flowed so effortlessly into the earth, that left him completely captivated.

Your face was serene, your focus absolute. Strands of your hair caught the sunlight, glowing like molten gold, and your expression—calm yet determined—was unlike anything he’d ever seen. You weren’t just commanding the earth; you were connected to it, in a way that felt almost sacred.

“Wow,” Gojo whispered from behind him, breaking the spell. “She’s something else, huh?”

Kento didn’t respond. His eyes remained fixed on you, unable to look away.

Suguru leaned against the tree, his arms crossed. “You know, Nanami,” he said, his voice teasing but quiet, “if you stare any harder, you might actually set her on fire.”

“Shut up,” Kento muttered, though there was no real heat in his words.

The vines you’d summoned began to move, twisting together to form intricate shapes—arches, spirals, and patterns so delicate they looked like lace. Then, with a flick of your wrist, the vines shot forward, striking a nearby training dummy with enough force to shatter it into pieces.

You stepped back, breathing hard, your shoulders rising and falling with the effort. The glow of your cursed energy began to fade, but the beauty you’d created remained—a lush oasis of life where there had once been only barren earth.

Kento felt something stir deep within him, a feeling he couldn’t quite name. It was more than admiration, more than respect for your skill. It was a quiet awe, a sense of wonder that left him both exhilarated and terrified.

You turned then, as if sensing his presence, your eyes meeting his across the field. For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you. You smiled—a small, shy smile—and Kento felt his chest tighten, his heart pounding like the rhythm of a distant drum.

“Hey, Nanami,” you called, your voice light but steady. “How long have you been standing there?”

He opened his mouth to respond but found himself at a loss for words. How could he explain the way he felt, the way you seemed to make the earth itself come alive?

“Not long,” he said finally, his voice quieter than he intended.

You nodded, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Just practicing,” you said, as if what you’d done was the most natural thing in the world.

Kento nodded, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. He wanted to say something more, something meaningful, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he stood there, letting the silence stretch between you, filled with all the things he couldn’t say.

“You’re incredible,” he wanted to tell you. “You make the world look different. Brighter. Alive.”

But he didn’t say any of that. Instead, he watched as you turned back to your practice, the glow of your energy lighting up the field once more.

Behind him, Gojo and Suguru snickered quietly, their whispers lost in the breeze. But Kento didn’t care.

For the first time, he realized that his feelings for you weren’t just a passing infatuation. They were rooted deep, like the vines you summoned from the earth—strong, unyielding, and impossible to ignore.

And as he stood there, watching you shape the world with your hands, he couldn’t help but wonder if you had already shaped him, too.

————

age 16: the weight of mortality

The rain had stopped hours ago, but the ground remained slick and treacherous as Kento Nanami and you navigated the forest. The air hung heavy, dense with the clinging scent of wet earth and decayed wood. Shadows twisted unnaturally among the trees, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky like broken hands.

“We should’ve run into it by now,” Kento muttered, his voice low, wary. His grip on his weapon tightened as his eyes scanned the path ahead.

“It’s close,” you said, your voice steadier than his. You knelt beside a patch of disturbed earth, fingers brushing the mud. There was no mistaking the lingering traces of malevolent cursed energy. “It’s watching us. Waiting.”

That was what unnerved Kento the most. The curse was grade one, and grade one curses didn’t wait. They attacked with reckless fury, their hatred for humanity so consuming they couldn’t hold themselves back. But this one—this one was different. It was intelligent.

“We need to keep moving,” he said, extending a hand to help you to your feet. The touch was brief, professional, but his heart still skipped in its chest.

You nodded, falling in step beside him, the soft glow of your cursed energy forming a protective aura around you. It lit the path ahead, a faint beacon against the encroaching dark, but Kento knew it was also a lure. The curse would come for it—would come for you.

And then the forest stilled.

Every sound vanished at once: the rustling leaves, the distant calls of night birds, even the faint hum of the wind. It was as though the entire world held its breath. Kento stopped in his tracks, holding an arm out in front of you.

“Kento?” you whispered.

He didn’t respond. His eyes narrowed, scanning the trees for any flicker of movement. The silence was oppressive, pressing against his ears like a scream held just out of reach. His body tensed, every muscle coiled like a spring.

Then, it came.

The curse emerged from the shadows with terrifying speed, a blur of jagged limbs and gleaming fangs. Its body twisted grotesquely, its long, spindly arms ending in claws that glistened like obsidian. Its head was almost human, but its eyes burned with a sickly yellow light, and its mouth stretched into an unnatural grin.

“Move!” Kento barked, pushing you to the side as the curse’s claws slashed through the space where you’d been standing.

The fight began in a whirlwind of chaos.

The curse was fast, faster than anything they’d anticipated. It darted between the trees, its movements erratic and impossible to predict. Kento swung his weapon, his Ratio Technique flashing as he aimed for its weak points, but the creature twisted out of reach with an agility that defied logic.

You were already in motion, your cursed energy flaring as you summoned vines from the earth. They erupted from the ground like serpents, coiling and snapping toward the curse in an attempt to restrain it. For a moment, it worked—the vines wrapped around its limbs, tightening like chains.

“Kento, now!” you shouted.

He lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. The curse shrieked as the blade connected, severing one of its arms. But instead of retreating, it retaliated, its remaining claw slashing at him with feral intensity. Kento barely had time to raise his weapon to block, the force of the impact sending him staggering back.

The vines began to wither, the curse’s malevolent energy eating away at them. With a violent roar, it broke free, its twisted body writhing with rage. It turned its glowing eyes on you, and Kento felt his stomach drop.

“Get back!” he shouted, but it was too late.

The curse moved faster than he could, its clawed hand striking you with bone-crushing force. You were thrown into the air like a rag doll, your body colliding with the trunk of a tree before crumpling to the ground.

“(Y/N)!”

Kento’s voice cracked as he ran to you, his heart pounding in his chest. You lay motionless, your breathing shallow, blood seeping from a gash on your forehead. Your cursed energy flickered weakly, the once-brilliant glow reduced to a faint shimmer.

“Stay with me,” Kento said, dropping to his knees beside you. He didn’t dare shake you, afraid of causing more harm. “Can you hear me? (Y/N), look at me.”

Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused but alive. “I’m… fine,” you whispered, though the words were barely audible.

“You’re not fine,” he snapped, his voice trembling with barely contained panic. “Don’t move. Just stay still.”

Behind him, the curse let out a guttural growl, its twisted form shifting as it prepared to strike again. Kento turned, his jaw tightening as he rose to his feet. His body ached from the earlier blows, but he ignored the pain. He couldn’t afford to falter.

The curse lunged, and Kento met it head-on. His movements were sharp, deliberate, every strike calculated with the precision he’d spent years perfecting. But the creature was relentless, its hatred radiating from it in waves. It clawed and snapped, its attacks wild yet devastatingly powerful.

Kento ducked beneath one of its strikes, his blade slashing upward to sever another limb. The curse screamed, its body convulsing as black ichor spilled from the wound. But even maimed, it fought with a ferocity that made Kento’s blood run cold.

It was toying with him, he realized. It wanted to drag this out, to prolong their suffering.

Kento’s anger flared, hot and consuming. “You don’t get to win,” he growled, his voice low and venomous.

With a surge of cursed energy, he activated his Ratio Technique, his blade glowing with a golden light. He lunged forward, his movements swift and precise, and drove the blade deep into the curse’s chest.

The creature let out one final, ear-splitting shriek before its body disintegrated into ash.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Kento stood there for a moment, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The glow of his cursed energy faded, leaving him in the dim light of the forest.

Then he turned back to you.

You were still slumped against the tree, your eyes half-closed and your breathing shallow. Kento’s heart twisted at the sight of you, so small and fragile against the towering trunk. He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as they hovered over your injuries.

“You’re an idiot,” he said, his voice breaking.

You blinked up at him, your lips curling into a faint smile. “Nice to see you, too.”

“I’m serious,” Kento said, his hands finally resting on either side of your face, his touch gentle despite the turmoil raging inside him. “You could’ve died. Do you understand that?”

You didn’t respond, and for a moment, the weight of his words hung heavy between you.

“I can’t…” Kento’s voice faltered, his throat tightening. He closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath before continuing. “I can’t lose you, (Y/N). I—” He stopped himself, the words catching in his throat.

He couldn’t say it. Not yet.

Instead, he let his actions speak for him, his touch tender as he began to bandage your wounds with shaking hands. His care was deliberate, almost reverent, as if tending to you was the only thing keeping him grounded.

You reached up, placing a weak hand over his. “I’m okay,” you said softly. “Really.”

But Kento shook his head, his jaw clenched. “You’re not okay,” he said. “You’re hurt, and it’s because you refuse to think about yourself. You’re always so focused on everyone else, and one day, it’s going to get you killed.”

You smiled faintly, your eyes meeting his. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Well, you did,” he said, his voice cracking despite his efforts to stay composed.

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves in the wind. Kento’s hands lingered on yours, his grip firm but comforting.

“I care about you, (Y/N),” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “More than I can explain. So please… don’t ever do something like that again. I wouldn’t—” He stopped himself, swallowing hard. “I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, your smile soft and tired. “I’ll try,” you said. “For you.”

And though the words were simple, they carried a weight that left Kento breathless. He didn’t know how to tell you the depth of what he felt, didn’t know how to put into words the way you seemed to fill the cracks in his carefully constructed world.

So he stayed silent, his hands still cradling yours, silently vowing to protect you—no matter the cost.

————

age 17: gravity, giggles, and grace(or lack of thereof)

The late afternoon sunlight poured through the windows of Jujutsu High’s ancient halls, casting golden streaks on the scuffed tiles. You and Kento Nanami walked side by side, a stack of textbooks in his arms and your hands swinging freely at your sides.

“Okay, Nanami, answer me this,” you began, already grinning. “Why do you carry your books like that? Are you afraid they’ll run away if you don’t keep them in a death grip?”

Kento, ever composed, arched an eyebrow without breaking his stride. “It’s practical. Less risk of them slipping.”

You rolled your eyes. “Practical. You are the human embodiment of that word. Do you dream about practicality, too? Like, ‘Oh, what an efficient cloud formation tonight!’”

There it was—the faintest twitch of his lips. A Nanami half-smile, as rare as a sunny day during monsoon season. “I’ll have you know I’ve never once dreamed about clouds.”

“Ah, right,” you said, nodding solemnly. “Your dreams are probably about perfectly portioned bread loaves.”

Kento stopped walking, turning to you with an expression caught between amusement and exasperation. “Do you even listen to yourself when you talk?”

“Constantly,” you replied with mock pride. “It’s part of my charm.”

He let out a soft huff, adjusting the books under his arm. “I don’t know how I let myself get roped into this.”

“Because I’m delightful,” you said, spinning around so you could walk backward and grin at him. “Admit it, Nanami. Studying with me is the best part of your week.”

“I admit nothing.”

“Oh, you love me,” you teased, waggling your eyebrows.

Kento was about to retort, probably with some dry remark, but you didn’t give him the chance. Too busy laughing at your own antics, you didn’t notice the top step of the staircase behind you.

And then—gravity intervened.

Your foot slipped, and for a split second, you felt the universe itself betray you. Arms flailing, you let out a startled squeal, your body tipping backward.

“(Y/N)!” Kento shouted, lunging toward you.

It was a valiant effort, really. His arm shot out with all the precision of his Ratio Technique. But fate, or perhaps just bad timing, was not on his side. His fingertips brushed your sleeve—just enough to not catch you.

You tumbled backward down the stairs in a whirlwind of arms, legs, and increasingly hysterical giggles.

It should’ve been a scene of chaos, maybe even concern, but instead, laughter erupted from your lips as you hit step after step. “Oh noooo!” you cried between fits of uncontrollable snickering, your voice bouncing off the walls.

“Are you serious?!” Kento shouted from the top of the staircase, staring down at you in absolute disbelief. “How are you laughing right now?”

Your body finally came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, where you sprawled out like a starfish. There was a brief silence—save for your wheezing giggles—and then you erupted again, full-bodied and tear-inducing.

“Oh my—Nanami!” you managed, clutching your stomach. “Did you see that? I just—I went full acrobat mode!”

He was down the stairs in three long strides, his books abandoned somewhere behind him. Dropping to one knee beside you, Kento hovered uncertainly, his hands ghosting over your arms and legs. “Are you okay? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Oh, I’m peachy!” you replied through your laughter, flopping dramatically onto your back. “Ten out of ten! Would recommend falling down a flight of stairs to anyone!”

His lips twitched again, the corners threatening to pull into a smile. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re the worst catcher ever!” you countered, sitting up and pointing at him accusingly. “What happened to your vaunted precision? Your super reflexes? Did you even try?”

Kento’s mouth opened in protest, but then he hesitated. “I—well—”

“Oh no, you don’t get to explain your failure!” You doubled over, laughing so hard your face turned red. “Your face—oh my God, Kento—your face when I fell! You looked like someone just insulted bread!”

That did it. A chuckle slipped past his defenses, quiet at first, but then it grew. The usually unflappable Kento Nanami let out a full-bodied laugh, deep and rich and entirely uncharacteristic.

“Don’t make me laugh,” he said, though he didn’t sound remotely serious.

“But it’s so easy!” you shot back, tears streaming down your face as you wiped them away.

Kento leaned back against the wall, his laughter mixing with yours in the echoing hallway. It was contagious—every time you started to calm down, one look at his rare, genuine smile sent you spiraling into giggles again.

“I still can’t believe you’re okay,” he said after a while, shaking his head in disbelief. “You fell like… twelve steps.”

“I told you, I’m made of steel,” you said, flexing an imaginary bicep. “Nothing can take me down.”

“Except stairs.”

“Except stairs,” you agreed, grinning.

The two of you stayed on the floor for a while, leaning against each other as the last remnants of laughter faded into the warm quiet of the hallway. The sunlight streamed in, illuminating the dust motes swirling in the air, and for a moment, everything felt light.

“Thank you for trying to catch me,” you said after a while, glancing over at him.

He shrugged, his expression soft but unreadable. “I’ll catch you next time.”

“You better,” you teased, nudging his shoulder.

And as you both sat there, side by side at the bottom of the stairs, Kento let himself relax. Your laughter was still ringing in his ears, and for the first time in a long while, he thought: Maybe the world isn’t so heavy after all.

————

age 18: the words that wouldn’t come

The golden hues of the setting sun bathed the grounds of Jujutsu High in a dreamlike light, illuminating every blade of grass, every stone, and every goodbye exchanged in hushed tones. The ceremony had concluded hours ago, the caps tossed, the congratulations shared. And yet, the air hummed with lingering anticipation, as if the day hadn’t truly ended.

You and Kento Nanami stood at the edge of the training field, where countless battles had unfolded, where victories and bruises were won in equal measure. Now, it was quiet, the echoes of sparring matches and laughter replaced by a solemn stillness.

“Well,” you said, breaking the silence, your voice light and teasing as always. “That’s it. We survived.”

Kento looked at you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his tall frame still and composed. But there was a tension to him, something barely concealed under the ever-present calm he wore like armor.

“We did,” he said simply, his tone even, his gaze steady.

“You don’t sound very thrilled,” you teased, nudging his arm. “Come on, Nanami. It’s over. No more grueling training sessions, no more Yaga yelling at us to get up at the crack of dawn. Aren’t you even a little excited?”

“I don’t think ‘excited’ is the right word,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Of course not. You’d probably use something like… ‘adequately satisfied with the progression of events.’”

That earned a soft huff from him—half a laugh, half a sigh. It was a sound you’d grown to love over the years, even if he didn’t realize how often he made it when you were around.

The breeze picked up, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming flowers from the nearby garden. You turned your face to the wind, closing your eyes for a moment and letting the cool air brush against your skin.

Kento, standing just a step away, watched you quietly. There was something about the way the light caught in your hair, the way your expression softened in the glow of the setting sun, that made his chest tighten.

“I need to say something,” he said suddenly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

You opened your eyes and turned to him, your brows lifting in curiosity. “What’s up?”

He hesitated, his fingers twitching at his sides. How did one even begin to explain years of unspoken feelings? How did he tell you that you weren’t just a friend to him, that you hadn’t been for a long time?

“I’ve been thinking about what’s next,” he started, his voice low but steady. “Now that we’ve graduated, things are going to change.”

“Well, yeah,” you said, leaning against the old wooden fence that bordered the field. “That’s kind of the whole point. Change is good, right?”

“Not always.”

There was a weight to his words that made you pause. Your teasing smile faded, replaced by a look of quiet concern. “Kento, what’s wrong?”

He looked at you then, his gaze searching, as if trying to find the courage he so desperately needed.

“I just… I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he said, his voice faltering slightly. “For a while now.”

You tilted your head, waiting patiently. But that was the problem—you were always so patient, so kind, and it made this even harder.

Kento exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. “I—” He stopped, the words catching in his throat. How could he say it without ruining everything? Without changing the way you looked at him, the way you smiled so easily in his presence?

“You…?” you prompted, your brow furrowed in confusion.

He clenched his fists at his sides, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. For all his precision, for all his calculated movements, this was something he couldn’t master.

“It’s nothing,” he said finally, his tone clipped.

Your frown deepened. “Nanami, come on. You’ve clearly got something on your mind. Just say it.”

“I said it’s nothing,” he repeated, his voice sharper this time. But then, as if realizing he’d spoken too harshly, he softened. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter.”

You stared at him for a long moment, your lips pressing into a thin line. “If it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t have brought it up,” you said quietly.

He looked away, his jaw tightening. He hated this—the way he couldn’t find the right words, the way his heart betrayed him every time he tried to speak.

“I just wanted to say… thank you,” he said finally, though it felt like a coward’s escape.

“For what?” you asked, your voice softening.

“For everything,” he said, meeting your gaze at last. “For being you. For sticking by me all these years.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “Well, yeah. Of course. What are friends for?”

Friends.

The word hit him like a blow, and he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

“Yeah,” he said, forcing a small smile. “Friends.”

You seemed satisfied with that, your usual grin returning as you reached out to lightly punch his arm. “You’re such a weirdo sometimes, Nanami. But you’re my weirdo, I guess.”

The words warmed and stung in equal measure, and all he could do was nod.

“Come on,” you said, pushing off the fence and gesturing toward the main building. “The others are probably wondering where we are.”

He followed you without a word, his heart heavy with everything left unsaid.

As you walked ahead, chatting about Gojo’s ridiculous antics or Suguru’s latest half-serious plan to prank Yaga, Kento allowed himself one stolen glance at you. The way you moved, carefree and full of light, the way your laughter seemed to fill the air—it was unbearable and beautiful all at once.

He clenched his fists, the words he couldn’t say swirling in his chest like a storm.

One day, he promised himself. One day, I’ll tell you.

But today wasn’t that day. And as much as it hurt, he knew he’d wait as long as it took.

————

age 20: the rift between us

The café was nearly empty, a quiet refuge from the torrential downpour outside. Rain cascaded down the windows, blurring the world into a wash of grays and silvers. The air inside was warm, thick with the scent of roasted coffee beans and something bittersweet—regret, maybe, or something close to it.

You sat across from Kento Nanami, your hands curled around a mug that had long since gone cold. His gaze was fixed on the table, tracing the grain of the wood as though it might tell him how to explain the mess inside his head.

“So, that’s it?” you asked, your voice low but sharp, each word a carefully aimed dart. “You’re quitting.”

Kento didn’t look up, his fingers tightening around his own mug. The coffee in it remained untouched. “I’ve made my decision,” he said finally, his voice even, too even. “This life… it’s not sustainable.”

The calm in his tone infuriated you, made the ache in your chest twist into something hotter, sharper. “Not sustainable?” you repeated, your voice rising slightly. “That’s what you’re going with? After everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve built together—‘not sustainable’ is your excuse?”

“It’s not an excuse,” he said quietly, still refusing to meet your eyes.

You leaned forward, your hands trembling now, whether from anger or desperation you couldn’t tell. “Then what is it, Kento? What is this if not you running away?”

His jaw tightened, a flicker of something—guilt, perhaps—crossing his face before his mask of composure slipped back into place. “I’m not running away,” he said, the words clipped. “I’m making a choice. A rational choice.”

“And I’m just supposed to accept that?” you shot back, your voice breaking despite your best efforts to hold it steady. “I’m supposed to just sit here and watch you throw everything away? Watch you throw us away?”

At that, his head snapped up, his eyes meeting yours for the first time. There was something raw there, something unspoken and unsteady, and it made your breath catch.

“This isn’t about us,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “It’s about me. About what I can handle—what I can’t handle.”

“You can’t handle this anymore?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Fine. But did you even think about what this means for the rest of us? For me? Did you even consider—”

“Of course I considered it!” he interrupted, his voice rising for the first time, startling you. “Do you think this was an easy decision for me? Do you think I wanted to walk away?”

“Then why are you?” you demanded, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

“Because I can’t keep doing this!” he shouted, the frustration in his voice cutting through the thick air between you. “I can’t keep waking up every day wondering if it’s going to be my last. I can’t keep watching people I care about—people I love—throw themselves into danger over and over again.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The rain outside seemed louder now, a relentless drumming that matched the pounding of your heart.

“This life,” he continued, his voice quieter now but no less intense, “it’s a death sentence. You know that as well as I do. And I can’t—I won’t—let it consume me.”

You stared at him, your chest heaving, your hands trembling around your mug. “So that’s it,” you said finally, your voice hollow. “You’re leaving because you’re scared.”

“It’s not fear,” he said, his tone defensive. But the flicker of something in his eyes—something vulnerable, something fragile—betrayed him.

“Then what is it, Kento?” you pressed, your voice rising again. “Because all I see right now is someone who’s running from everything he’s ever cared about.”

“I’m not running,” he said, his voice strained. “I’m trying to survive.”

“And what about the rest of us?” you asked, your voice breaking now. “What about me? Do you think I don’t want to survive too? Do you think I don’t dream about a life where I don’t have to fight, where I don’t have to wonder if the next mission will be my last?”

He didn’t answer, his silence more damning than any words he could have said.

“But I don’t get to walk away,” you continued, your voice trembling. “Because if I do, then all of this—all the pain, all the loss—it’ll have been for nothing.”

“You don’t have to keep doing this,” he said softly, his eyes pleading. “You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for a world that doesn’t care.”

“And you think the corporate world is going to care about you?” you shot back, bitterness creeping into your tone. “You think pushing papers and chasing profits is going to fill the void you’re running from?”

His face hardened, his hands curling into fists on the table. “At least it’s a life,” he said.

“Is it?” you asked, leaning forward. “Or is it just a way to numb yourself from everything you’re too afraid to face?”

The words struck like a blow, and you saw the flicker of pain in his eyes before he looked away.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the rain.

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words settling in your chest like a stone. You wanted to scream, to cry, to shake him until he understood what he was throwing away. But instead, you swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to speak.

“Fine,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill. “If you’re so eager to leave, then go. But don’t expect me to wait around while you figure out what you’re running from.”

“What are you saying?” he asked, his voice tight, his composure finally cracking.

“I’m saying I can’t do this either,” you said, standing abruptly. “I’m taking a long-term mission in the States. A year, maybe two. Maybe longer. I need space, Kento. From you, from all of this.”

His eyes widened, panic flickering across his face. “(Y/N), wait—”

“No,” you said, cutting him off. “You made your choice. Now I’m making mine.”

You turned and walked away, the sound of the rain swallowing the sound of your footsteps.

Kento sat frozen, his chest heaving, his heart pounding against his ribs. He wanted to call after you, to stop you, to say something—anything—that might make you stay. But the words wouldn’t come.

And as the door closed behind you, the weight of what he’d done crashed down on him, suffocating in its finality.

He sat there long after you were gone, the rain outside a relentless reminder of the storm he had unleashed. He told himself he had made the right choice, that this was the only way. But as the silence pressed in around him, all he could feel was the aching void where you had been.

And for the first time, Kento Nanami wondered if survival was worth the cost of losing you.

————

age 22: a call across the ages

The sun was setting on a city Kento Nanami had never intended to visit. It was a business trip—nothing more, nothing less. The skyline of Chicago stretched out in front of him, jagged and unfamiliar, a maze of concrete and glass that seemed to mirror the labyrinth inside his chest. The golden light painted everything in soft hues, but for him, the world felt muted, heavy with the weight of things unsaid and undone.

Two years. Two long, quiet, endless years since he’d last seen you. Two years since you had walked out of that café, your eyes filled with tears he hadn’t been able to stop. You had left for America, and with you, you had taken a part of him he hadn’t realized he’d given away until it was gone.

The first few months had been unbearable. He’d asked Gojo, Suguru, even Shoko, where you were, how you were doing. Every time, he was met with silence or vague reassurances that you were fine. He had stopped asking after a while, realizing that they were protecting you from him—or perhaps protecting him from himself.

Life had become a series of routines after that. Wake up. Go to work. Pretend not to miss you with every breath. But now, standing in the shadow of a foreign city, something stirred in him, a restlessness that had been dormant for far too long.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, jolting him out of his thoughts. He frowned, pulling it out to see an unfamiliar number lighting up the screen.

“Hello?” he answered, his voice steady but distant, as though the call were just another part of his endless routine.

What he heard on the other end shattered that façade instantly.

“K-Kento…” Your voice was barely a whisper, broken and raw, like shattered glass scraping against stone.

His breath caught. For a moment, he thought he might be dreaming. But then you spoke again, and the panic in your voice was unmistakable.

“Kento, I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call. I—” A sharp gasp cut through your words, and he could hear your ragged breathing, the tremor in your voice that made his stomach twist into knots.

“(Y/N)?” he said, his voice sharper now, the calm businessman replaced by something far more primal. “What’s going on? Where are you?”

“I—I tried,” you sobbed, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I tried so hard, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t do it without you. I thought I could, but I can’t. Kento, it’s too much. It’s too much—”

“Slow down,” he said, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. “Tell me where you are.”

“I don’t know,” you cried, your voice trembling. “I’m hiding—I don’t even know where—there’s this curse, and I tried to exorcise it, I tried, but it’s too strong. I’m so tired, Kento. I can’t do it alone anymore. I can’t—”

His free hand clenched into a fist, his nails digging into his palm as he forced himself to stay calm. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re not alone. I’m here. I’ll find you, (Y/N). Just hold on.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice so small it made his chest ache. “I’m sorry for everything. I—I never should have left. I never should have let you go.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said, his voice breaking despite himself. “Just stay with me. Keep talking. I need to know you’re okay.”

The city’s shadows grew longer as Kento Nanami sprinted through the streets, his coat billowing behind him. The call still echoed in his ears, your trembling voice, fractured and desperate. His heart felt like it had been torn from his chest, dangling by a fragile thread as he raced against time. Two years of silence, of unspoken longing, and now your voice—broken and pleading—was the only thing tethering him to the present.

His breath came fast, the ache in his legs a distant memory compared to the pounding in his chest.

“(Y/N), where are you?” His voice was sharper now, teetering on the edge of panic.

“I—I don’t know,” you stammered, the sounds of labored breaths and distant crashes filling the line. “It’s dark, Kento. I don’t know where I am anymore. I’m so sorry—I thought I could handle it, I really did, but it’s too much.”

“I’m coming for you,” he said, his voice low and trembling with determination. “Stay on the line. Tell me what you see.”

Another crash sounded on your end, louder this time, followed by your muffled cry. “I don’t think I can make it, Kento. I’m so tired,” you whispered, each word cracking like glass against his ears.

“Don’t you dare give up,” he growled, his voice harsh but laced with fear. “Just hold on. I’m coming, I swear.”

The line went dead.

“No!” he shouted, the emptiness on the other end making his stomach plummet. His cursed energy flared unconsciously, his body moving on instinct as he followed the faint traces of cursed energy in the air. He didn’t have time to think, didn’t have the luxury to wonder what would happen if he was too late.

He wouldn’t let himself be too late.

The abandoned warehouse loomed ahead, a decaying monolith at the edge of the city. The cursed energy here was suffocating, a rancid, tangible thing that coiled around him like smoke. He pushed forward, his teeth gritted, his body tense with anticipation.

Inside, the dim light barely illuminated the chaos. Splintered wood and shattered glass littered the floor. The walls were smeared with dark, claw-like marks. And then, he saw you.

You were crumpled in the corner, your body trembling, your hands pressed weakly against the ground as if trying to summon cursed energy you no longer had. The faint glow of your nature manipulation flickered and died, and a monstrous, hulking curse loomed above you, its grotesque form pulsating with power.

“(Y/N)!” he yelled, his voice cracking as he rushed toward you.

Your head lifted weakly, your eyes dazed and unfocused. “Kento…” you murmured, your voice so soft it barely reached him.

Before he could reach you, the curse lunged. Its claws sliced through the air, forcing him to dive to the side. He rolled to his feet, his cursed energy crackling around him like lightning as he turned to face the creature.

“You don’t touch her,” he growled, his voice low and filled with fury.

The curse roared in response, its twisted form shifting as it charged at him. Kento met it head-on, his blade slicing through the air with precision honed over years of practice. Sparks flew as the curse’s claws met his weapon, the impact sending shockwaves through the room.

The fight was brutal, every strike a test of his endurance, every movement a desperate attempt to keep the curse away from you. His breaths came in ragged gasps, sweat dripping down his face as he fought with everything he had.

But the curse was relentless. It struck with terrifying speed, its claws narrowly missing his chest as he dodged and countered. Blood splattered across the ground as one of its strikes grazed his arm, the pain sharp and immediate.

“Kento…” your voice, faint but urgent, pulled his focus.

He glanced back at you, his heart clenching at the sight of your pale, trembling form. The curse took advantage of his distraction, its massive arm swinging toward him. He barely managed to block the blow, the force of it sending him skidding across the floor.

For a moment, he faltered. The weight of the fight, the fear of losing you, pressed down on him like a crushing tide.

Then he saw you, your eyes locked on his, a flicker of trust and desperation in your gaze. And something inside him snapped.

With a roar, he surged forward, his cursed energy exploding around him in a blinding burst. He struck the curse with everything he had, his blade cutting through its grotesque form like a scythe through wheat. Blow after blow, he fought with a ferocity that surprised even himself.

Finally, with one last, devastating strike, the curse disintegrated into nothingness, its screams fading into the stillness of the warehouse.

Kento turned to you, his chest heaving, his body trembling from the effort. He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands hovering uncertainly before finally resting gently on your shoulders.

“(Y/N),” he said, his voice breaking. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

Your eyes fluttered open, your lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “You came,” you whispered, your voice so weak it was almost inaudible.

“Of course, I came,” he said, his voice trembling. “I’ll always come for you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, spilling over as you tried to speak. “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice cracking. “I shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have let you go. I—I thought I could do it on my own, but I can’t. I can’t do anything without you.”

His breath hitched, his chest tightening as the weight of your words settled over him. “Don’t you dare say that,” he said, his voice firm but filled with emotion. “You are the strongest person I know. But you don’t have to do it alone anymore. I’m here, (Y/N). I’m here.”

You reached out, your hand trembling as it brushed against his cheek. “I missed you,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “Every day, I missed you.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as tears slipped down his face. “I missed you too,” he said, his voice shaking. “More than you’ll ever know.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath, the words he had kept locked away for years finally breaking free. “I’ve loved you for so long, (Y/N). Since we were kids, since the moment I realized how incredible you are. Every smile, every laugh, every moment we’ve spent together has been etched into my heart. And when you left…” His voice cracked, and he took another breath, his hands tightening on your shoulders. “When you left, it felt like I lost a part of myself. But I was too much of a coward to tell you.”

Your tears fell freely now, your gaze locked on his as you listened to every word.

“I don’t deserve you,” he continued, his voice soft but resolute. “But if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for the time we lost. I love you, (Y/N). I always have, and I always will.”

You let out a soft, choked laugh, your tears mixing with your smile. “You’re such an idiot,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve loved you all this time too, you fool. How could you not see it?”

Kento felt his heart stop at the words, like a dam breaking free of its restraints. The words he had kept buried for years, those painful truths that he never allowed himself to speak, were now spilling out, mingling with the soft echoes of your confession.

“You—” His voice wavered as he looked down at you, disbelief still playing in the edges of his mind. He never imagined this moment would come like this. But there you were, staring at him with eyes full of tenderness, the very same gaze that had haunted him for so long, and now it was his. All his. “You’ve loved me all this time?”

You nodded, your face crumpling slightly as you leaned into his touch, the warmth of it sending a wave of relief crashing over both of you. “Yes. I’ve loved you. I’ve been a fool for thinking I could do it without you. And when you left… when you turned away from the sorcery life… I thought maybe I had lost my chance to tell you how much you meant to me. I thought maybe we were better off apart.” You winced, the truth spilling out raw, as it always did when one was faced with their deepest fears. “But I realized I was wrong. So wrong. Life doesn’t make sense without you in it, Kento. I don’t want to live in a world where you’re not by my side.”

The words hung between you like a delicate thread, and with each passing second, that thread grew stronger, binding you together in a way that nothing else could. Kento’s fingers trembled as they brushed against your skin, pulling you closer in a desperate but tender motion. His hands were shaking, as though he were unsure if this was a dream, unsure if he had finally found his way back to you after years of wandering in the dark.

He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours. “I don’t want to live in a world without you either,” he whispered, his breath shaky. “It’s like… like something was always missing. Every day, I felt it. But I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t find the right words. And when you left, I thought maybe I was better off alone. That maybe the life I’d chosen would be enough to bury what I felt.” His voice cracked, and his grip on you tightened. “But every time I thought about you, I realized I was wrong. I can’t live like that. I can’t be without you, not for a single second. You are my world, (Y/N). You’ve been my world for so long, I never knew how to tell you.”

Your hands found his, your fingers intertwining with his as you held on to each other like you might disappear if you didn’t. The air around you was thick with the weight of your confessions, with the unspoken years that had passed in silence, with the tension that had built between you like an unspoken promise. Now, those words you had both held back for so long were finally released, and it was like the entire universe had shifted.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry for not telling you sooner. For not realizing it sooner. All this time, I thought I was doing what was right for us, for our futures. But I was wrong.” His breath caught in his throat. “I should’ve been with you, (Y/N). I should’ve been by your side.”

You shook your head, tears spilling from your eyes as you pressed your forehead against his. “No, Kento. No apologies. We were both lost, weren’t we? We were both afraid to speak the truth. Afraid of what it might mean. But now… now we have each other. We’ve found our way back.”

His eyes searched yours, wide with a mix of astonishment and hope. It was as if he were seeing you for the first time again, as if everything he had lived through, every hardship and every silent plea, had led him to this very moment. He felt your heartbeat beneath his hands, steady and strong, matching his own. And, for the first time in years, he felt a sense of peace. A sense of belonging that he hadn’t known since the day he’d let you slip away.

“I love you,” he whispered again, his voice quiet but certain, like a promise made in the depths of his soul. “I love you, (Y/N). More than I ever thought was possible. More than anything. You’re the one I want. You’re the one I’ve always wanted.”

Your heart swelled at the words, the depth of his confession breaking through every wall you had built. “I love you too, Kento,” you breathed, the weight of the years, the heartache, and the loneliness melting away. “I’ve always loved you.”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting the truth sink in, a soft exhale escaping him. When he opened them again, he saw you—his (Y/N), his everything, the only person who had ever truly understood him. The only person who had ever been able to bring the storm inside him to rest.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he promised softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Not again. I won’t let you leave me again.”

You smiled, your heart blooming in your chest. “I’m not going anywhere, Kento. Not this time. Not ever again.”

As the words echoed in the quiet space, time seemed to slow. All the uncertainty, all the regrets, all the lost years fell away. In that moment, nothing else existed but the two of you, standing in the ruins of everything that had tried to pull you apart. And as you stood there, hands clasped tightly together, hearts beating in sync, the curse of the past, the weight of the unspoken, was broken.

For once, it was simple. There were no barriers, no walls, no reasons to keep your distance. The only thing that mattered was the truth that had been there all along—the love between you, undeniable, eternal.

And as Kento pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go, he whispered once more, his voice full of wonder, of everything he had never dared to hope for.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I always will.”

And in your arms, you whispered back, your voice soft but strong. “I know, Kento. I know.”

————

age 23: a promise in the garden

The garden was alive in a way that felt almost magical, golden light streaming through the sprawling branches of the ancient oak tree. The air carried the faint hum of life—the rustle of leaves, the soft buzz of insects, and the scent of blooming flowers swaying gently in the breeze. It wasn’t the overgrown wilderness it had been when you were children, nor the empty, desolate space it had become during your years apart. Now, it was vibrant, flourishing—a living testament to patience, hope, and love.

Kento stood beneath the oak, his hands in his pockets, watching as you stepped into the clearing. Your footsteps slowed, then stopped entirely, your gaze sweeping across the scene. The flowers you’d planted together as children were still there, their colors more radiant than ever—wild yellows, purples, and whites scattered among neatly tended beds. The tree’s gnarled roots stretched like a crown beneath it, embracing the earth you’d dug into with small, determined hands so many years ago.

“Kento…” Your voice was soft, almost reverent. “How… how is this possible? It looks—”

“Alive,” he finished for you, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “It’s alive now.”

You turned to him, your expression full of wonder, though your brows knit slightly with confusion. “Did you… do this?”

“I did,” he admitted, stepping closer. His voice was steady, but there was an edge of something else beneath it—nervousness, anticipation, a depth of emotion he could barely contain. “It wasn’t easy. But for you… for us… it was worth it.”

You blinked at him, your eyes softening. “For us?” you repeated, your voice catching slightly on the words.

His hand reached for yours, enveloping it in a warmth that steadied you. He led you to the base of the oak tree, to the small weathered bench that had been there for as long as you could remember. The two of you had sat on that bench countless times—laughing, dreaming, arguing, and, in the quietest moments, simply existing side by side.

The weight of the years pressed down on you as you both sat. For a long moment, there was only silence, broken by the faint rustle of leaves overhead. Kento looked out at the garden, his gaze far away, as if he were sifting through the memories that lingered here.

“This place,” he began, his voice quiet but certain, “has always been ours, hasn’t it? Even when it was nothing but weeds and brambles, it felt like… like it belonged to us.”

You nodded, your fingers brushing over the edge of the bench. “It did,” you agreed. “Even back then, I could see it. The potential. I knew it could be beautiful if we just tried.”

He turned to you, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve always been able to see things I couldn’t. You looked at this place, at me, and you saw something worth saving.”

Your throat tightened at the quiet reverence in his voice. But before you could respond, he continued, his gaze dropping to the patch of flowers you’d planted so long ago.

“I think that’s when it started for me,” he said softly. “When I realized how extraordinary you were. How you could bring life to things that seemed beyond saving. I didn’t understand it back then. I just knew I wanted to be near you, to see the world the way you did.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with years of unspoken truths. You felt your heart ache with the weight of them, the quiet sincerity in his voice leaving you breathless.

“We’ve come a long way since then,” he continued, his voice dipping into something deeper, more vulnerable. “We grew up, faced things no one should ever have to face. Missions, losses, mistakes…” His voice faltered, his hand tightening slightly around yours. “And then I walked away. I thought it was the right thing to do, the practical thing. But leaving this life—leaving you—was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And the worst.”

You swallowed hard, the memory of those years apart rushing back like a tidal wave.

“When I heard your voice that day in the States,” he said, his tone quieter now, “when I thought I might lose you…” He broke off, his jaw clenching as he struggled to steady himself. “I realized then what I should’ve known all along. That you’re everything. That you’ve always been everything.”

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, and you turned to him, your voice trembling. “Kento…”

But he wasn’t finished. He stood suddenly, his hand slipping from yours as he moved to the base of the oak tree. His fingers brushed over the bark, his touch reverent, as if he were grounding himself in its solidity.

“This tree has been through so much,” he said, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “Storms, winters, years of neglect. And yet, it’s still here. Still standing.” He turned to you, his eyes soft but resolute. “It’s like us, in a way. No matter what’s tried to tear us apart, we’ve always found our way back. We’ve always stood through it.”

He gestured to the flowers at the tree’s base, their vibrant colors glowing in the golden light. “And these… they’re proof that even the smallest acts of love can grow into something lasting. Something beautiful.”

Your breath caught as he stepped closer, pulling something from his pocket. The small velvet box in his hand seemed to glow in the fading sunlight, the sight of it sending a wave of emotion crashing over you.

“I don’t know what the future holds,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. “I know our lives will never be simple. There will be battles we can’t avoid, losses we’ll have to endure. But I also know this—whatever time I have, I want to spend it with you. I want to stand by your side, to face everything together.”

He knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’ve given me so much,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Your patience, your kindness, your belief in me… I don’t deserve any of it, but I promise you, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of it.”

He opened the box, revealing a ring that was simple yet radiant, its design a quiet reflection of everything he felt.

“I should’ve told you sooner,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “I should’ve said it years ago, when we were kids planting flowers in the dirt. I should’ve said it every day since. But I’m saying it now, and I mean it with everything I am—I love you, (Y/N). I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, and I’ll keep loving you for as long as I have.”

Tears streamed down your face as he held the ring out to you, his hand steady despite the weight of the moment. “Will you marry me?”

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The garden, the oak tree, the flowers—all of it seemed to lean in, waiting for your answer. Finally, you nodded, your voice breaking as you whispered, “Yes. A thousand times, yes.”

Relief flooded his face, and he slid the ring onto your finger with care. When he stood, you threw your arms around him, holding him as tightly as you could.

“I love you,” you murmured against his shoulder, your voice trembling with the depth of your emotion. “I’ve always loved you.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, “And I’ll love you for the rest of my life. However long that may be.”

The words hung between you, bittersweet and beautiful, a quiet acknowledgment of the dangers that still lay ahead. But in that moment, beneath the oak tree and surrounded by the garden you’d built together, the future felt distant, almost irrelevant.

For now, there was only this: two hearts, battered but unbroken, promising to face whatever came next—together.

————

age 24: yes now and forever

The morning was one of hushed anticipation, as if the world itself held its breath for the event to come. Soft rays of golden sunlight streamed through the windows of the venue, casting dappled patterns across the stone floor. It wasn’t an opulent cathedral or a grand ballroom; it was a small, ivy-covered chapel nestled in the countryside, its charm lying in its quiet beauty. The ancient oak tree they had planted so many years ago stood just outside, its branches adorned with ribbons and lanterns. Around its base, wildflowers bloomed—a living testament to her magic, their love, and the journey that had led them here.

Inside, chaos brewed as friends bustled to prepare for the ceremony.

“Where’s Nanami?!” Gojo shouted from the chapel hallway, holding up a pair of sunglasses like they were a crucial piece of the wedding puzzle. “I need to give him my trademark advice before he ruins his life—I mean, begins his new life!”

Shoko rolled her eyes, perched on the edge of a pew, sipping champagne from a flask. “The only advice you’re giving is how to be insufferable for eternity. Leave him alone, Gojo.”

Suguru leaned against a wall, smirking. “Pretty sure he’s too busy freaking out to listen to you. My money’s on him crying when she walks down the aisle.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Shoko chimed in. “Man’s a softie. He’s gonna lose it the second he sees her.”

“You’re all underestimating me,” Kento grumbled as he entered, adjusting the cufflinks on his impeccably tailored gray suit. The tie was perfect, the pocket square precisely folded, but the man himself looked like he was barely keeping it together.

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “You’re sweating.”

“I am not.”

Gojo slapped him on the back with an exaggerated laugh. “Nanamin, it’s okay! I cry every time I look in the mirror. Today, it’s your turn.”

Kento glared at him but didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he glanced toward the closed doors at the far end of the chapel, beyond which she was preparing. His stomach churned. He hadn’t even seen her yet, but the weight of the day—the promises they were about to make—was overwhelming.

In the bridal room, (Y/N) was surrounded by her closest friends, who busied themselves with last-minute touches to her gown and hair. The dress was stunning in its simplicity—white as freshly fallen snow, with vines and blossoms embroidered into the bodice and train. The design was an homage to her abilities, subtle yet unmistakable. Her veil was a delicate gossamer, pinned in place over a braid adorned with tiny flowers she had grown herself.

“Relax, (Y/N),” Shoko said, expertly applying the final stroke of eyeliner. “You’ve fought grade-one curses. You can handle saying ‘I do.’”

“I’m not nervous about that,” she murmured, her voice soft but tight with emotion. “I’m nervous because… this feels like a dream. What if it’s too perfect?”

“Perfect?” Gojo poked his head into the room uninvited, earning a chorus of groans. “Nanami’s in the other room, looking like he’s about to hurl. Trust me, it’s not perfect yet. You will be.”

Shoko shoved him out, rolling her eyes. “Ignore him. You’re gorgeous, and this day will be perfect because it’s yours.”

(Y/N) smiled, though her hands trembled as she adjusted the lace on her dress. “Thank you, all of you.” She looked at herself in the mirror one last time, inhaling deeply. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

The chapel doors opened, and the entire room turned to look at her. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, but Kento didn’t notice anyone else.

His breath caught the moment he saw her. His usually composed demeanor crumbled as tears welled in his eyes. She looked like a dream—no, she looked like the most tangible, real thing he had ever known, a manifestation of light and love walking toward him.

“Holy crap,” Suguru whispered from his side.

Gojo nudged him. “Called it.”

Kento’s lips parted, his eyes glistening, but no words came. He didn’t even realize the tears slipping down his cheeks until Suguru handed him a handkerchief.

(Y/N) caught his gaze and smiled, her own eyes misty. Step by step, she came closer, and with every step, Kento felt his heart swell, nearly breaking with every heartbeat. The world fell away, and there was only her—only the woman he had loved for so long, in every quiet moment and in every tumultuous battle.

When she reached the altar, her eyes never left his. Kento didn’t know if he could keep standing, his knees weak as if they might give out at any moment. But somehow, he stayed rooted, his hand trembling as he held out his palm for hers. She took it with a smile so tender it felt like the beginning of everything.

The officiant’s voice barely registered in Kento’s ears as he stared at her, his pulse racing. He couldn’t believe this moment was real. It felt like a dream he had never dared to hope would come true.

When it was time for the vows, the silence hung heavily between them, the air thick with meaning.

(Y/N) smiled softly, her hands clasped in front of her, eyes never leaving Kento’s. She took a deep breath, her voice quivering with emotion but steady in its resolve.

“Kento,” she began, her voice like a prayer, “for years, I have lived a life filled with chaos and strife, yet you have always been my constant. You’ve been the calm in every storm, the one person I’ve trusted with my heart, with my fears, and with all of me. You’ve shown me love in ways I didn’t think were possible. And in return, I vow to spend every day of my life showing you the same love, the same support, and the same devotion. You have given me your heart, and now, I give you mine. No matter what the future brings, I am yours, always.”

Kento’s eyes glistened, and his hands tightened around hers, his throat tight with emotion. He had never expected this, never expected to be here, with her, in this sacred space that seemed to transcend time itself.

When it was his turn, he almost couldn’t speak. His voice wavered as he began, his eyes never leaving hers.

“(Y/N), for as long as I can remember, I’ve been afraid. Afraid of being vulnerable, afraid of loving too deeply, afraid of losing the one person who means everything to me. And yet, here you are, standing before me, and I know—I know—that I was wrong to be afraid. You are my heart, my breath, the reason I push forward even when everything seems dark. I’ve been given so many chances to tell you this, to let you know just how deeply I care, and I’ve always hesitated, always been too afraid to admit what was right in front of me. But I’m not afraid anymore. I stand before you today, telling you with every ounce of my being, that I love you. I will love you every day for the rest of my life, no matter what comes our way. And I will be here, with you, beside you, for as long as you’ll have me.”

The room was silent, holding its collective breath, as Kento’s words settled into the air. His tears fell freely now, a testament to the years of unspoken emotions, to the weight of all the times he had longed for this moment but could never quite bring himself to claim. But now, here he was, and he would never take it for granted again.

And then, as the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, Kento leaned down, his hands cradling her face with such reverence that it made her heart ache. When their lips finally met, it wasn’t a simple kiss; it was a promise, a culmination of everything they had endured, everything they had fought for, and everything they would become together.

The reception that followed was a whirlwind of love and laughter, a celebration so full of joy that it felt like time had slowed, as though the universe had conspired to make this one day eternal.

The hall was alive with music, its golden chandeliers casting warm light over the gathering of family and friends. Gojo, as expected, was the life of the party, making grand speeches and trying to get everyone to join him in embarrassing dance routines.

“Come on, Nanamin!” Gojo shouted over the music, dragging Kento onto the dance floor. “You’re married now! You’ve got to dance, or I’ll never let you hear the end of it.”

“Not even if I beg?” Kento deadpanned.

“Nope!” Gojo grinned mischievously. “Now twirl your wife, or I’ll make a speech about how amazing your moves are.”

(Y/N) laughed, slipping her hand into Kento’s and pulling him toward the center of the dance floor. The moment they began to move together, the world seemed to fall away once more, their laughter blending with the music as they swirled beneath the shimmering lights.

Suguru, who was never one to shy away from a joke, stood nearby, an amused smirk on his lips as he clinked his glass to get their attention. “Now that’s a love story, folks. What I want to know is, who’s going to teach me to dance like that?”

Shoko rolled her eyes. “There’s no hope for you, Suguru. You’re all posture and no rhythm.”

“Hey, I’m all rhythm,” Suguru retorted, eyes glinting with challenge. “I just need the right partner to prove it.”

Laughter erupted around them, the joy of the evening spilling over into every corner of the room. But even in the midst of the lighthearted chaos, there was a quiet serenity between Kento and (Y/N). They weren’t just married—they were finally living the dream they had once thought was too far out of reach.

The night went on, each moment becoming a memory etched in their hearts, a story they would tell their children one day. As the last song played and the guests began to filter out, Kento and (Y/N) stood together beneath the oak tree, bathed in the soft light of the moon.

“I never thought we’d get here,” (Y/N) said softly, her hand slipping into his. “I used to wonder if it was all a dream.”

“It’s not a dream,” Kento replied, his voice hushed but sure. “It’s real. And I’m here, with you, forever.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder, her heart full, her body tired but content. She had everything she had ever wanted. And in this moment, surrounded by love and laughter and the promise of a future together, she knew that the journey was just beginning.

And as they stood there, in the quiet of the night, the future stretched before them, a beautiful, endless road, paved with love, laughter, and every step they would take together, side by side in the beautiful life they had built together.

————

age 26: a slice of peace

It had been a long day—too long, if you asked Kento—but when he stepped through the door of their cozy home, the weight of the world seemed to lift just a little. The soft glow of the living room lights, the aroma of something simmering in the kitchen—it was everything he needed after a day spent surrounded by curses, chaos, and endless meetings.

Kento hung his jacket on the back of a chair, loosening his tie as he crossed the threshold. He was met with a familiar sight: (Y/N) standing at the stove, her back to him, humming softly to herself as she stirred something in a pot. The sound of her voice—however quiet—was like a melody to his ears, a reminder that after every battle, there was peace. And peace, it seemed, was always found with her.

“You’re late,” she said, her tone playful but somehow still teasing, even though she didn’t turn to face him.

“Am I?” Kento raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. “Sorry. I had to deal with a particularly stubborn curse today. It didn’t want to die—or follow orders.”

She laughed softly, turning to glance over her shoulder. “I don’t blame it,” she said with a wink. “If I had to face you all day, I’d want a break too.”

Kento’s lips twitched into a smile. He could never resist her teasing. It made everything feel light, like they were in their own little world—a world far removed from the heavy responsibility of being sorcerers. “Are you cooking again?” he asked, knowing full well she was. (Y/N) was always the one who made their meals, though it had started as a joint effort. Over time, she’d made it clear that she enjoyed it more than he did, and he, in turn, had enjoyed the results.

“Obviously,” she replied, her voice full of playful confidence. “I figured since you’re so great at taking down curses, I should balance things out by feeding you.”

He chuckled as he made his way into the kitchen, catching the faint scent of garlic and herbs in the air. “I don’t think I’m the one who needs balancing. You’re the one who’s been feeding me perfectly every night, making me gain at least five pounds from your cooking.”

“Who’s counting?” she teased, waving her hand dismissively. “At least you’re not the one who accidentally set off the fire alarm three days ago.”

“That was one time,” he protested with mock indignation, though he knew she was right. (Y/N) had made a batch of cookies, and they had almost set the kitchen ablaze because she’d gotten distracted by the latest mystery novel she was reading. “Just a little smoke. Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about? Kento, I think the neighbors thought we were hosting a fire drill.”

“I think they were just worried the smoke was coming from the neighbor’s apartment, not ours,” he teased, stepping behind her to take a look at whatever she was cooking. “What’s for dinner, then?”

“Beef stew,” she said with a smile. “With extra carrots—since I know you like them so much.”

He bent down to kiss her cheek, his lips brushing her skin lightly. “I’ll take it. Just don’t make me go for seconds… I might need to squeeze into my suit for that charity gala tomorrow.”

She gave him a mischievous look. “Are you trying to tell me I’ve been feeding you too much?”

“Maybe…” Kento smirked, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. “But I’m not complaining. In fact, if it weren’t for your food, I’m pretty sure I’d be too thin from all those sleepless nights we’ve had recently.”

(Y/N) shook her head fondly, her hair catching the light as she moved. “You’re impossible,” she said softly, but there was warmth in her voice. “You’re impossible and perfect, and you know it.”

A silence stretched between them, comfortable and steady, like the calm before the storm. Kento watched her for a long moment, his gaze softening. There was something about the way she moved, so graceful, so at peace in their home, that made everything in him feel steady. This was their life now—quiet moments like these, after the chaos of work, before the next battle, before the storm.

She glanced back at him, catching the look in his eyes. “You’re staring at me again,” she said, raising an eyebrow, but the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“I can’t help it,” Kento replied, pushing off the counter to stand next to her. “You look beautiful, even when you’re just cooking dinner.” His voice was quiet, and there was an edge to it, the kind that only came when he was being serious, when he didn’t try to hide how much he loved her.

She turned to face him fully now, a slight blush coloring her cheeks, but there was something else in her eyes—something more intense, more profound. “Stop making me blush,” she said, trying to play it off, but her voice was softer than usual, more vulnerable. “You know how much I love you too, right?”

Kento didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned in, pressing his forehead gently against hers. The moment felt eternal, like the world was paused around them, just for a second. There was no curse, no mission, no threat hanging over them—just the simple, steady rhythm of their breathing and the warmth of their connection.

“You make everything feel like it’s worth it,” Kento said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was rougher than usual, filled with emotion. “The world is chaos, but I’d face it all over again—if it meant getting to come home to you. You… make this life worth it.”

She smiled at him then, the corners of her lips curling up into a soft, knowing grin. “You’re sappy sometimes, you know that?”

“Only for you,” Kento teased back, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “And only because I’ve got you figured out. You make me want to be better… just by being you.”

(Y/N) laughed softly, her head tilting back in that way that always made his heart swell. “And you make me want to stop burning things… just by being you.”

Kento grinned and pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. She melted into him, her warmth seeping into his bones, as they swayed together to an unspoken rhythm that only they understood. This was life now—peace after the storm, home after the chaos, simplicity in the face of all the complexities of their world.

After a few moments of silent contentment, (Y/N) broke the calm with a mischievous grin. “So… when are you going to admit that you’re hopelessly in love with me?”

Kento chuckled and placed a soft kiss on her lips, his hands resting at the small of her back. “You already know the answer to that.”

She tilted her head in mock curiosity. “Oh? And what’s the answer?”

He smiled, his eyes full of affection and tenderness, his voice low and sincere. “I’m madly, irrevocably, and completely in love with you. But you already knew that.”

Her lips twitched with the tease of another smile, and she leaned in for a kiss, letting it linger just a moment longer than usual. “Well, I guess I’ll have to keep you around, then.”

“Oh, I plan on staying,” he said softly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face. “And I’m never leaving.”

For once, they didn’t have to fight curses or fear the world beyond their door. The peace, the love they’d cultivated, was enough. They were enough. And in this small kitchen, with flour in their hair, the faintest scent of burnt cookies still lingering in the air, everything was as it should be. Perfect in its imperfection.

They spent the rest of the evening together, laughter and love filling the air—before the next mission, before the next challenge. For now, they had each other, and that was everything.

————

age 27: what if?

The air had grown heavier with each passing day. The world of jujutsu sorcerers, for so long a constant whirlwind of curses, danger, and conflict, had finally reached a new precipice—a moment where the known threats no longer made sense. As they all gathered at the table in the heart of the Jujutsu High’s war room, it felt as if something far darker, far deeper, had begun to stir once more.

Kento Nanami stood at the head of the table, his usual calm demeanor softened only by the tension in the air. His fingers drummed idly, a rhythmic, almost involuntary gesture as he pondered their situation. He glanced around at the others, each of them readying themselves for a battle they hadn’t been prepared for.

For months, rumors had spread. Whispers in the underground world of jujutsu had suggested something sinister was in the making. But even those who had the most insight into the curse-riddled world hadn’t anticipated the return of Suguru Geto—or, rather, what Suguru Geto had become.

The once-esteemed ally had become a dark force, someone who sought to tear down everything they had built. His alliance with Mahito, the twisted curse that had wreaked havoc on their lives, had sealed their fate. The two were no longer isolated threats—they were a unified front, hell-bent on reshaping the world.

Kento wasn’t alone in his thoughts. (Y/N) sat beside him, her posture upright and composed, yet her eyes betrayed the storm brewing in her chest. There was no denying the severity of the situation. They had fought together for so long, weathered every storm, but this felt different. This wasn’t just a fight for survival; this was a fight for their very way of life.

A tense silence settled over the room as the sorcerers gathered, all awaiting Gojo’s entrance. When he finally did arrive, it wasn’t with his usual exuberance—his confident smile was absent, replaced by a heavy seriousness that sent a ripple of unease through the group.

“Alright,” Gojo began, his voice steady but tinged with an edge of concern. “I know we’ve all been trying to prepare for this day. Suguru’s been on the move. Mahito’s been gathering power. And now they’ve come together in a way none of us expected.”

The room fell even quieter, if possible. Kento’s gaze never wavered, his focus sharp on Gojo as his former teacher continued, detailing the threat they now faced.

“What we’re looking at now isn’t just another curse,” Gojo said, his voice dropping a notch, becoming more serious. “Suguru’s intentions are clear now. He wants to reshape the world—our world. But this time, he’s not working alone. Mahito’s power has evolved. He’s no longer just a dangerous, unpredictable force; he’s something else entirely.”

(Y/N)’s grip tightened around her coffee cup, the usual quiet fire in her eyes flickering as the gravity of the situation set in. Kento reached over and gave her hand a subtle squeeze, his own thoughts swirling with dark uncertainty. They’d fought so many battles together, faced impossible odds, but this? This was different. Suguru Geto had always been a threat, but now, he was a living nightmare.

“Mahito’s power—his manipulation of souls—has become much more sophisticated,” (Y/N) spoke up, her voice calm but heavy with the weight of the truth. “He’s learned how to twist souls even more efficiently, and Suguru… Suguru has learned how to weaponize that power for himself.”

Kento felt a deep chill settle into his chest. Mahito’s ability to reshape souls was already something that they had struggled to combat, but hearing that he had grown even stronger made Kento question if they were truly prepared for the coming fight. His mind replayed the last battle they had fought against Mahito, how terrifying and grotesque his curse had been then. The thought of facing him now, knowing his abilities had only grown, sent a shiver down his spine.

“The problem isn’t just their power. It’s their coordination,” Gojo added, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall. “Suguru and Mahito are working together in ways we haven’t anticipated. If they’re allowed to continue unchecked, they’ll tear through the sorcerers—and worse, they’ll start targeting civilians.”

Kento’s eyes narrowed. This wasn’t just about fighting curses; it was about defending everything they had worked for. The lives of innocents, the future of Jujutsu High, and the very stability of their world were at stake. But even with all their power, even with their best strategies, the reality was becoming clearer: Suguru and Mahito were far more than anyone had prepared for.

“They’ve taken steps to turn the tide in their favor,” Kento muttered, his mind churning as he thought of their next move. “But we can’t let them gain any more ground.”

“Agreed,” (Y/N) said, her voice cutting through the tension in the room. “Suguru and Mahito think they have control over the cursed energy—but we can’t allow that to happen. If they manage to manipulate the energy the way they want to, it will be chaos.”

Gojo stood up straighter, his eyes flashing with determination. “We’ll hit them before they can make that move. But we need everyone on this mission. We need to be smarter than we’ve ever been before.”

Kento felt his pulse quicken. This wasn’t just another cursed spirit to hunt. This wasn’t an ordinary mission. This was a war.

“What’s our game plan?” Kento asked, trying to stay focused amidst the rising tension.

“We need to break their alliance. That’s the key,” Gojo explained, his mind working quickly. “We split them up. Isolate them. Mahito thrives on chaos, and Suguru on control. If we separate them, they’re not as strong. But we have to act fast.”

(Y/N)’s gaze sharpened, and Kento could see the determination in her eyes. She was ready, just as he was. They had faced impossible odds before, but this? This felt different. This felt personal.

Kento had never doubted their ability to win, but this time, there was an eerie feeling in the pit of his stomach. Suguru and Mahito weren’t just enemies—they were harbingers of a new, terrifying age of curses. And this time, they were ready to break everything down.

As the meeting adjourned, Kento stood, his mind racing through strategies, his heart thundering in his chest. (Y/N) caught his eye, and the unspoken bond between them flared with intensity. They were in this together. They always had been. And though the threat before them was greater than anything they had encountered, Kento knew, in the quiet recesses of his heart, that they could face it.

But even as his thoughts aligned with hers, the bitter truth began to creep in. They were staring at a war, and wars often had no victor.

The day of the battle was swiftly approaching, and as the sorcerers gathered their forces, the weight of the situation settled over them all like a thick fog. Suguru Geto and Mahito were no longer the isolated threats they once were. They were a force, united in their plan to reshape the world of jujutsu sorcery, and the heroes that stood against them had to act quickly.

Kento and (Y/N) stood side by side, preparing for the fight of their lives, knowing full well that their victory might come at an unimaginable cost. When they arrived home, the tension was almost a living thing.

The tension that hung in the air as Kento Nanami and (Y/N) prepared for their battle felt suffocating. Every passing moment seemed to stretch into eternity. They had fought together countless times, against curses of all kinds, but this… this was different. This was a battle against the very fabric of the world they had sworn to protect. This was a war against the forces of destruction that threatened to tear apart everything they knew and loved.

They stood in the quiet of their shared space, the soft hum of the lights and the distant sound of voices in the other rooms of the compound the only things breaking the silence between them. The night was quiet, too quiet, as if the entire world was holding its breath. It was in moments like these, when the weight of what they were about to face hung over them like a stormcloud, that the unsaid things began to creep to the surface.

Kento turned to (Y/N), his usually composed demeanor flickering with a hint of something deeper. Something unspoken.

“What if we don’t make it out of this?” he asked, his voice low but clear. The words hung in the air, heavier than any curse they had faced before.

It wasn’t like Kento to voice his doubts. He had always been the steady one, the grounded one, the one who gave others strength when they needed it most. But this was different. The weight of the situation had begun to erode the walls he had so carefully built around his heart. He needed to know—needed to understand—if this was it. If this was the end of everything.

(Y/N) looked at him, her gaze intense, searching, as if she, too, could feel the tremor of uncertainty that was quietly shaking the foundations of their resolve. The world outside was preparing for battle, but in this room, in the space they had created together, it was just the two of them and the unspoken fear they each carried.

She took a deep breath and stepped closer, her fingers brushing against his. “What if we don’t? What if this is the last time we see each other?” she whispered, her voice trembling just slightly. “What if this is the end of everything we’ve built?”

Kento’s heart clenched at the sound of her words. He had never been one to indulge in what-ifs. He had always focused on the mission, always believed in the future they could create if they fought hard enough. But the reality of what they were facing now was different. There were too many unknowns, too many variables they couldn’t control. Too many things that could go wrong. And the possibility of losing (Y/N)—the woman who had become his anchor, his everything—was a thought too painful to bear.

“Do you ever think about it?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly. “About what happens if we don’t make it through? About the things we’ve left unsaid? The things we might never have the chance to say?”

(Y/N) was silent for a long moment, her expression unreadable as she let his words settle. She had always been strong, always able to keep her emotions in check, but in this moment, with the reality of the threat they faced so close, the façade slipped just enough for Kento to see the vulnerability she rarely allowed to show.

“I think about it every day,” she admitted softly, her gaze dropping to their intertwined hands. “I think about the things we could have said… the things we should have said. But I also think about the things we’ve done, the life we’ve built. What if we never get the chance to… to have more time? What if this is the last memory we make together?”

Kento’s breath caught in his throat. Her words echoed in his mind, her quiet vulnerability striking him to his core. He had always been so certain, so steadfast in his resolve to protect those he loved. But now, in the face of this unknown, he couldn’t escape the nagging doubt that perhaps he hadn’t done enough. Perhaps he hadn’t said enough. Perhaps they hadn’t had enough time.

“(Y/N), I—” Kento started, but the words faltered on his tongue. What could he say? How could he express everything he had kept buried for so long? He had always been so careful, so calculated with his feelings, but this… this was different. This wasn’t a mission. This was his heart on the line.

Her hand squeezed his gently, the touch grounding him. “Kento, we don’t know what the future holds. We never have. But we’ve always fought together. And no matter what happens tomorrow, I want you to know…” She paused, her eyes locking with his, her voice steady but filled with an emotion that left him breathless. “I don’t regret a single moment of this. Of us.”

The sincerity in her voice—so raw, so full of love—made Kento’s heart ache with a longing he had tried to ignore for so long. He had always held back, always buried his emotions behind duty and responsibility. But with (Y/N), he had learned to open up, to trust, to be vulnerable. And now, in this moment of uncertainty, all he wanted was to hold on to that trust, to hold on to her.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he confessed, his voice breaking with the weight of the truth. “I can’t imagine a world without you in it. I’ve spent so much of my life thinking I had to protect you, thinking I had to keep you safe, but I—” He stopped, unsure of how to continue, unsure of how to express the depth of his feelings.

(Y/N) reached up, her fingers brushing the side of his face, her touch gentle and comforting. “Kento, I’m not going anywhere. No matter what happens, we’ve been through too much to let this be the end.”

A silence hung between them, the unspoken promise in her words sinking deep into his heart. They didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. They didn’t know if they would survive the coming battle, if they would make it through the storm that was about to crash down on them. But in that moment, standing together in the quiet of their shared space, they both understood one thing: they had each other.

And that, in the face of everything that lay ahead, was enough.

Kento drew her into his arms, holding her tightly, his breath coming in shaky gasps as he tried to steady his racing heart. He knew the coming battle would be unlike anything they had ever faced, but for now, in this moment of calm before the storm, he allowed himself to bask in the warmth of her embrace.

“I don’t know what the future holds,” Kento whispered against her hair, his voice filled with a quiet resolve. “But I know that I can’t face it without you. I’ve never needed anyone more than I need you.”

(Y/N) smiled, a soft, knowing smile that spoke of years of shared battles, of late-night talks, of love that had grown so strong it had become the very foundation of their existence. “And you never will,” she replied, her voice filled with the same determination. “We’re in this together. Always.”

The silence between them felt sacred, a moment of peace before the world would demand everything from them. As the weight of the war loomed large on the horizon, Kento and (Y/N) allowed themselves this brief respite. Because no matter what came next, they knew that as long as they had each other, they could face anything.

And perhaps, that was all they really needed.

As the night stretched on, the sorcerers prepared for the battles that lay ahead. But for now, Kento and (Y/N) allowed themselves one last moment of peace—a quiet conversation, a soft kiss, and the certainty that no matter what happened, they would face it side by side.

————

age 28: the final stand

The streets of Shibuya were eerily silent under the bloodshot sky, the moon half-hidden by the suffocating clouds that rolled over the city like an endless tide. Shattered glass crunched beneath the soles of boots. The usual hum of city life had been swallowed whole, replaced only by the distant echoes of battle—snarls, curses, and the constant reverberating thrum of cursed energy. The city had fallen into chaos.

Kento Nanami’s breath came in uneven gasps as he pressed forward, his eyes flickering over the chaos. The air was thick with cursed energy, the dark, corrosive force tangling with the very fibers of the world around him. His fingers gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, knuckles white, his every move sharp and precise. And beside him—always beside him—was (Y/N), her dark eyes gleaming with determination, her hands weaving through the air, bending the earth and the wind to her will.

It was a beautiful thing, the way she controlled nature. How the trees seemed to bow to her, how vines erupted from the cracked ground like the earth itself was alive—alive with her power. She was a force of nature, unstoppable and fierce. The thought of her had always kept him going, in every mission, every battle. And in this one? In this hellish night? She was his anchor. His world.

And yet, as the fighting wore on, he saw it—saw the cracks in her resolve, the way her shoulders hunched a little lower with each strike, each breath growing more labored than the last. Her power, magnificent as it was, came at a cost. The earth, it seemed, was exhausted as well.

“Don’t push yourself,” Kento’s voice was gruff, a hint of panic creeping in as he shot a glance over his shoulder, meeting her eyes for only a moment before turning back to the front lines. “We need to pull back.”

But she was already casting again, her arms sweeping the air as the ground cracked open beneath her feet, plants rising to form barriers, blades of grass becoming whips, branches of trees turning into spears of unyielding nature.

“We can’t stop now,” she said, breathless but unyielding. “We have to end this. For everyone.”

Her voice trembled as she spoke, but her eyes remained firm. They locked for a moment, as if sharing a silent vow: they would make it through. They had to.

But the world had other plans. The moment she cast her final spell—a wall of twisting, gnarled branches and vines—there was a shift. A cold gust swept through the air, and Kento’s heart skipped a beat. The trees… they weren’t just twisting. They were bending, breaking, and snapping in a violent, unnatural rhythm. Her energy was draining faster than he could keep up with.

Behind them, a curse—a towering abomination of shifting shadows and jagged, broken limbs—crept from the blackened streets.

“Y/N!” Kento’s voice broke as he turned to face her, a shiver of dread crawling up his spine.

Her body trembled with the strain, but she pressed forward, bringing the earth beneath her to life with the last of her strength. And then the creature charged, its massive clawed hands outstretched.

“NO!” Kento screamed, rushing to intercept, but it was too late.

The creature was upon them in an instant, its claws tearing into the earth, and in a blur of motion, it swept her off her feet. Her scream echoed through the air, a piercing, gut-wrenching sound, as the curse’s claws raked across her side. Blood stained the earth, and Kento’s heart shattered in that instant.

“(Y/N)!” His voice was raw, hoarse, barely a whisper as he lunged toward her, his sword raised to strike. But the curse was faster, its claws digging deeper into her flesh as it pinned her to the ground.

The earth she had so desperately controlled began to falter, the vines curling up as if recoiling from the monstrous presence. Her body convulsed, the energy she had fought so hard to control draining from her with each tortured breath.

Kento could feel his chest tighten, as if something inside him was slowly being crushed. Time slowed in that moment—her blood, so dark against the dirt, her body so small and fragile in the creature’s grasp.

She met his eyes, her lips curling into a pained but fond smile. “I love you,” she whispered, barely audible through the suffocating storm around them.

“Don’t—” he began, but he never finished. The monster’s claws descended again, sharper, faster, and with an inhuman screech, it pierced her body.

The world seemed to collapse around him.

Her scream was silenced by the gurgling, choking sound that escaped her lips as her body was impaled. She was still smiling, through the agony, her eyes locked with his, even as the life slowly drained from her.

“No… please… no…” His voice cracked as he dropped to his knees, reaching out toward her. But he couldn’t get close enough.

Her hand reached for him, shaking, but the weight of the curse was too much. The earth she had commanded refused to rise, her power fading faster than she could fight it. And in the final moment, she was gone.

Her body went limp, her eyes closing as the curse ripped her from him.

Kento’s scream tore through the air, raw and guttural, as he watched her slip away.

It felt like his soul had shattered, but he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t let her go, even as her body was ripped to pieces before him.

And then, before he could move, before he could even gather his bearings, a cold presence loomed behind him.

Mahito. Jugo.

The two curses stood before him, their faces twisted with cruel delight.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Mahito’s voice was smooth, mocking, as if everything about this moment was some twisted joke.

Kento gritted his teeth, his hands shaking as he reached for his sword. He couldn’t let them win. Not after all this. Not after her.

But he knew he was too late.

Mahito’s cursed energy wrapped around him, tightening like a vice, while Jugo’s immense power loomed behind.

“You should have stayed out of this, Nanami,” Jugo said with a low growl, before lunging at him with terrifying speed.

The fight was brutal.

Kento’s sword clashed with Jugo’s fist in a flurry of sparks and violence, but his body was already worn down, his mind shattered from the loss of (Y/N). His strikes were slow, weak, and he knew—he knew—he wouldn’t survive this.

Mahito stood back, watching with that sickening, twisted grin as Kento fought, desperately, to stay alive.

But the world had abandoned him.

Jugo’s next strike hit Kento square in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground. Blood stained his lips, but even as he struggled to breathe, the pain, the agony, the heartache—it all felt so familiar. She was gone.

And just like that, in that moment of anguish, Mahito moved in for the kill. His fingers brushed against Kento’s forehead, and Kento felt the chilling touch of the curse wrap around his soul.

In that moment, Kento realized what he had been fighting for, what he had always fought for. It had never been just survival. It had always been for her. And now, as the world faded, as the pain and the blood mixed together, all he could think of was the life he never got to share with her.

Mahito’s laughter echoed in his ears as he faded into darkness. His body went limp, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he let go.

And then there was only silence.

As Kento’s body lay still on the cold, unforgiving ground, his thoughts were scattered. They drifted to her—the only thing that mattered now, the only one who had ever mattered.

Her face, her smile, her laugh… All the memories that had once been so vivid now felt like they were slipping away, like smoke dissipating into the night air. His heart, which had once beaten for her, now lay heavy and silent within his chest. The world he had fought so desperately to protect, the mission he had once lived for—none of it mattered. Not without her.

The weight of that truth was crushing, but at the same time, there was a strange peace in it. He had failed. But in the end, he had given everything for her.

His consciousness began to fade as the cursed energy of Mahito wrapped around him like a shroud. The darkness crept in, inch by inch, until there was nothing but an emptiness he could no longer fight. The sounds of battle—the distant screams of curses, the clash of swords—dissolved, becoming a faint hum. And just as the light of the world blinked out before his eyes, one single image remained.

Her face. Her eyes.

He saw her, not broken or bleeding as she had been when he last laid eyes on her, but alive. Smiling, her hand reaching for his as she always did, her warmth, her essence filling his soul.

For a moment, he felt a flicker of something—something gentle, something soft—as though her spirit had reached out to him. She had been the light that guided him, the anchor in the storm, and in the end, he had followed her, reaching out for her even in death.

And then, as the world finally went black, Kento Nanami’s last thought was simple, pure, and filled with longing:

I’m coming for you, Y/N. Wait for me.

The cold night air stretched on, silent now, save for the flickering embers of the chaos that had consumed Shibuya. The curses were no more, their twisted forms scattered like broken toys across the battlefield. The city, in its death throes, was still. The streets that had once been so full of life were now empty. A hushed, sorrowful calm had fallen over it, and the earth mourned its bender and her lover.

————

an eternal love

Kento’s first breath in the afterlife wasn’t a breath at all. It was something far deeper, something that swirled in the very essence of his being, as though his soul had been waiting for this moment all along.

At first, everything was nothing. Blank, vast, and weightless. The kind of silence that presses into your ears until your thoughts blur. But then, a glimmer.

A soft light appeared on the horizon—a soft, golden glow, like the first rays of dawn kissing the earth after a long, dark night. His feet, though weightless, moved instinctively toward it. There was no pain. No burden. No scars. Only warmth and the promise of something that had always been missing.

As he stepped forward, his heart—still tethered by the love he had once known—began to beat again. He felt it as a quiet thrum within his chest, a comforting pulse that reassured him everything would be okay. That everything already was.

And then, as the light grew clearer, he saw her.

Y/N.

She stood there, bathed in soft gold, the light wrapping around her like a halo, but not in a way that seemed distant or unreachable. She was tangible. Real. Breathing in the same rhythm as him, as though they’d never been apart.

Her hair, once torn and tangled from battles, now flowed freely in a gentle breeze, like a field of flowers dancing in spring. Her eyes—those beautiful eyes that had always seen him—were more radiant than he had ever imagined. She stood tall and strong, no longer a broken soul but a piece of the very heavens themselves.

His breath caught in his throat, even here. The very sight of her, her existence—this moment—felt like a dream he had fought so long for. But it was real.

Her eyes met his, and for a heartbeat, time paused.

She smiled—oh, how she smiled, and it was a smile that reached deep inside him, threading its way through the soul he thought he’d lost. It was the kind of smile that, in its simplicity, made everything right again. It said everything they had never said, everything they never needed to.

She stepped toward him, her pace slow, deliberate, each movement graceful as if the space between them could never be fast enough. He didn’t wait. He moved toward her as well, almost desperate to close the distance, but this time—this time, he wasn’t afraid.

When their hands touched, it was as though the entire world breathed in at once. Their fingers intertwined like it was the most natural thing in the universe. Her skin was as warm as it had always been, but there was a lightness in it now—a peace that hadn’t existed before. She wasn’t a warrior anymore. She wasn’t the person who had been dragged through a life of curses and bloodshed. She was simply Y/N, and she was perfect.

“I thought I’d lost you forever,” Kento whispered, his voice rough, a silent tear slipping down his cheek. It was a tear not of sorrow, but of relief. Because here she was. Here, with him, in this place that wasn’t an ending, but rather the beginning of something far more beautiful than he had ever imagined.

She laughed softly, a sound that filled his chest with a warmth that he hadn’t known in life. “You never lost me,” she said, her voice as soft as the wind, carrying a truth that wrapped around his heart. “I’ve always been here, Kento. I was never truly gone.”

And it was then he understood.

This was not an afterlife of sorrow or regret. This was peace. This was the love they had fought for, the love they had lived for—eternal, unbroken. In this place, there was no time. No distance. No fear.

They stood together, in a quiet serenity that washed over them, knowing that their souls had always been tethered, even in the darkest of moments. Their hands were still entwined, their bodies close as they both took in the purity of this moment.

Kento pulled her closer, his chest resting against hers, his arms wrapped around her like she was the only thing that could ever make sense of the world. His heart ached in the most beautiful way, full of longing and love. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he allowed himself to completely sink into the peace she offered.

“Y/N,” he whispered again, this time his voice barely audible, “I don’t ever want to leave this place. With you, I’ve found everything. And if I could’ve told you sooner… how much I loved you… I would have.”

She pulled away slightly, her hands resting on either side of his face, her eyes full of softness, understanding. “I knew, Kento. I knew,” she said, her voice a melody that soothed his soul. “In every moment, I knew. And now… now we don’t need words anymore. Because this… this is our forever.”

And forever it was.

They stayed there, in the quiet of the afterlife, no longer burdened by time or fear. Every moment they shared was a memory woven into the very fabric of their being, a new chapter of their love story written in the stars above.

It was in the way their fingers brushed against each other, how the world around them stood still, as though even the universe itself honored their bond.

Kento didn’t need to speak. There was no need to confess, not anymore. Their love had never been about words or promises—it had always been about being together, despite everything the world had thrown at them. And now, here, in this place of peace, there was nothing to fear. Only each other.

They walked side by side, their steps light and effortless, no longer weighed down by the struggles of their past. There were no curses to battle, no wars to fight. In this place, there was only love.

Their love, eternal and pure, would echo through the cosmos, like a soft whisper carried on the wind.

And for the first time, Kento Nanami knew that everything had always been leading to this—this moment, this peace, and this love that would never fade. He’d choose her love and their story forever, and ever, and ever again.

thank you so much if you read all of this!!! im not so sure if i like it but at least its out there. feedback and suggestions are always appreciated! and if you see typos, no you didnt! also i take requests(please i yearn to write). much love💕💕

[seat-safety-switch]

Orbital mechanics: not my cup of tea. Don't get me wrong, I like it when things go around and around in a circle. The faster the better. Key word there is "circle." Orbits involve that oh-so-complicated third dimension, and that's one dimension more than a tire has. Or, at least, a new tire, not that I know what those are like.

Out there in space is another one of those tragedy of the commons deals. Folks park their garbage in low- to medium-orbit, it sails around, sometimes it clonks into other stuff. Scientists are afraid that if too much stuff clonks together, then there will be an impenetrable cloud of rocket-shredding dust surrounding the planet and we'll never be able to leave Earth ever again. Parking. I know a lot about parking, I told myself, so I drove over to NASA to help them out with the whole thing.

"Space Junk Removal" is what it said on the side of my battered 1993 Econoline E250 as I pulled onto the sidewalk outside the JPL and left it running. You really don't want to shut off a van like this, not when it's been on the highway for this long, because the battery is more than a little flat and the chances of the engine ever restarting are just slightly smaller than that of discovering extraterrestrial life. In the back of my van are several 1980s Shop-Vacs, American civilization's sole contribution to humanity. These babies are great: they will suck up a puddle, or a mouse nest, or a bunch of spilled gasoline, or empty a bee hive if you get the little narrow cone attachment for it.

Of course, the modern Shop-Vac sucks ass. It was sold to a foreign investment firm, at which point they started to lose every feature that made it good except for the name. A new one will last you about twenty minutes, which means it's definitely not appropriate to chuck onto the top of a departing heavy-lift rocket, hence the classics pulled from my hoard. This kind of knowledge, and this sort of procurement, is what they pay high-powered government consultants like myself to take care of.

As I show the assembled scientists, who assuredly do understand orbital mechanics, I see that I am winning over the crowd, little by little. Even the most skeptical math-haver is realizing that my strategy of "put a rubber band around the power switch" is totally plausible. By this time tomorrow, we'll have just one last piece of space junk up there in orbit, and it's bright yellow so it'll be a lot harder to hit. If we can find a long enough extension cord, we should be able to tug real hard on it and reuse the Shop-Vac for the next mission, too, as long as someone's willing to catch it.

[xoxoshifts]

𝐌𝐲 𝐑𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐃𝐑

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 -- Kingdom

Mouteka is an island nation in the middle of the Pacific Ocean consisting of three islands; the main island, Sultagi, and two smaller islands, Kostwa and Hiaksa; and an atoll off the northern coast of Sultagi.

The largest island, Sultagi, contains a wide variety of environments including beaches, jungles, mountains, and a volcano. Most major cities of Mouteka are located on Sultagi's shores with most inland settlements being smaller towns. The capital of Mouteka is Kubyoult. It is located on Sultagi's southern coast and is extremely culturally significant as it houses the Royal Palace. Kubyoult is a mix of traditional Moutekan architecture and some modern buildings. Sultagi also harbors Mouteka's largest city, Seitoung. Seitoung is essentially the second capital and has been greatly modernized, resembling cities from other countries. Seitoung is located on Sultagi's northern coast.

Although it is the second largest island, Kostwa is significantly smaller than Sultagi, being only a fraction of its size. The environment of Kostwa resembles Sultagi's but on a smaller scale. The jungles are smaller, leaving room for large shorelines, and the mountains are much more flat. Kostwa does have some of its own large cities to varying degrees of modernity, although none are as large as the ones on Sultagi.

Hiaksa is the smallest of the Moutekan islands with a population of about only 100 people. Hiaksa has no cities and consists of traditional Moutekan villages. It has a small jungle and is surrounded by a barrier reef. Mouteka is trying its best to conserve Hiaksa's natural state and has no plans of modernizing it.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 -- Royal Family

The Sela royal family has ruled over Mouteka since the 1500s. When the Pacific first started to be used for transportation and trade, an ancient Sela ancestor rallied up the mermaids of Mouteka to use their abilities to fend off the impending colonization. With their home safely secured, the Selas established a trading post in modern day Kubyoult and were able to control trade across the Pacific Ocean, greatly increasing Mouteka's wealth.

Modern Moutekan government operates on a constitutional monarchy meaning the monarch has limited power and is accompanied by a group of elected officials. Monarch status is granted to the oldest willing child when the current monarch steps down.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 -- Mermaids

Mermaids are an important part of Moutekan culture and are so widespread even the most skeptical of people have encountered one in some way. Mermaids make up a significant portion of Mouteka's beachside population. To tourists and foreigners mermaids are treated like an urban legend to keep them safe from exploitation with the truth about mermaids being a secret known only to Moutekan natives.

While inexperienced mermaids will transform when in contact with large amounts of water, with practice they can learn to transform on command. It is said that there are pools in Hiaksa and the Northern Atoll that are capable of turning humans into mermaids. It is theorized this is how the original mermaids came to be.

Abilities : enhanced athleticism, enhanced senses, water manipulation, weather manipulation, temperature manipulation, telekinesis, hypnosis, enchanted singing, ethereal beauty, aquatic zoolingualism, spellcasting

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 -- Culture

The native religion of Mouteka is Akoism, an animist belief that everything in nature from animals to rocks hosts a deity within it. Akoism comes from the Moutekan word 'ako' meaning soul.

A fundamental belief of Akoism is that the moon is the mother of everything. According to legend, the moon used to be as lively as the earth and as bright as the sun. Every year she would give birth to a new concept such as the ocean, mountains, or sky and as she did this she became dimmer and grey. Due to this she is greatly respected within Akoism.

The moon is also the center point of two Moutekan holidays. The first being a monthly celebration on the first night of the full moon to celebrate her return that is accompanied by loud parties and a day off for the whole country. The second is a yearly week-long festival leading up to Moutekan lunar new year to celebrate the moon giving birth to a new concept. This festival includes parades, concerts, and parties. New year's is a big deal in Mouteka and everyone is expected to participate, especially the royal family.

I may have gotten too into the worldbuilding 🙃 I couldn't stop myself the ideas just kept coming 😭

Overall I'm pretty happy with it. I hope I did okay on explaining the lore 🤞

°•°☆°•°

[alwaysoutofpaper]

surprise map attack.

flat map of my elves' home planet (currently unnamed bc the name will probably have stupid lore to it, whoops)

in my head it's around the size of Venus and very mountainous with a very slightly higher gravity and less water than earth. in other words, I don't know what i'm talking about !!!

It is marked and referred to as LF-18. As the story goes, it was the 18th life-bearing planet "discovered" by Linceur-Fah, a now defunct space exploration company - the amount of planets they take credit for discovering is subject to skepticism, the true number is widely contested in the wider space-exploration community.

rambling + extra versions of map below the cut.

the extras are just a height and political map, respectively

i really don't know a lot about land formations, so i'm sure to an expert or someone who appreciates the subject a lot that this does not look great. I hope to learn more and revisit this in the future with that knowledge!! this was fun to make and i would like to make more, even if they aren't super scientifically accurate :D

as with a flat map of the earth, this does not truly reflect accurate sizing and is certainly not how the land would appear on a globe. it's also not Mercator-style because I wasn't thinking about that. anyway, I will return to label countries at some point :)

there are actually two sapient species on this planet atm. elves are my little non-literal kitty cat guys who evolved to live arboreally and then went from there i guess. humanoid because i am a coward !!! and this will not change !!!

anyway this map took me a few days to create so i hope it passes for what i need it to :)

[kittyadore]

Hi Hi 👋🏼 can you please do an earth 42 miles x reader when it's Halloween and they go out trick or treating together 💟

halloween

—𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦!42 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴

—𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

—𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵; 1,4𝘬

—𝘢/𝘯; hi lovelies, thank u so much for the request !! i had fun writing this, i really think e!42 miles is a cutie. sum e!1610 miles coming soon hopefully, please leave requests so i know what you guys want to read. also thank u so much for the 140 (i think) likes under my previous post, as its my first ever, it means a lot to me💝💝

As October descended upon Brooklyn, whispers of Halloween's approach filled the air. Your eyes sparkled with anticipation, and you couldn't contain your excitement for the upcoming festivities. But Miles, with a furrowed brow, scoffed at the idea, preferring solitude over celebrations.

Undeterred by Miles' grumpiness, you decided to transform his home into a magical realm of Halloween delight. His mother approved of your brilliant ideas, so the boys' opinion couldn't change anything. Armed with a vivid imagination and an overflowing box of decorations, you set out to infuse the flat with the spirit of the season.

While you took your time adorning his bedroom with ghostly figures, cobwebs, and some pumpkins, your boyfriend observed you from a distance, a skeptical expression etched on his face. Despite his reservations, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity as your enthusiasm filled the air.

Subsequently, you transformed the living room into a haunted haven. With Rio's help, you strung orange and black streamers, hung paper bats from the ceiling, and carefully arranged a display of glowing jack-o'-lanterns. Miles' grumpiness wavered as he watched your infectious excitement, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

As the evening came, you turned your attention to cute couple Halloween costumes. You spent hours crafting intricate outfits-a brooding vampire for Miles and a whimsical fairy costume for yourself. Miles grumbled about the discomfort of wearing a costume, but deep down, he couldn't deny the sparkle in your eyes, even though he tried to fight it.

"You're trippin, ma." The boy intervened firmly as he shook his head in disbelief. "I am not wearing that, no way." The sharp tone of his voice struck through your heart, slowly breaking it into pieces. You knew he wasn't the type to participate in adorable couple activities, but you didn't understand why couldn't he spend his time with you, at least during such fascinating time.

"Oh come on, Miles, why not?" You pouted, crossing your arms as you looked at him with a disapproving gaze. You were sure of his opinion, but deep down, you still had some hope, that the captivating season could soften his heart, even the tiniest bit. "It's like you don't love me anymore, Miles. You never do anything fun with me, we barely even spend time together. You're always out doing your 'important work', putting off our plans" You snapped at him, with slight wrath audible in your voice

"I get it, you might not be a fan of all those 'cringy' couple activities, but please, can't you enjoy your time with me for once?" You continued, your gaze shifting from his face to his torso. You could notice the confusion on his face, as you weren't the type to talk to him like this. "But alright, if you don't want to, I can just go out with someone else. You have fun here"

Miles made his way up to his bed, sitting down beside you, letting out a sigh, as he entwined his hands with yours. Staring into his eyes, you could see them filling up with agony, clearly hurt after hearing your truthful speech.

"Look, mami. I'm sorry I haven't given you enough time lately, you know, I just cant explain it. I want to keep you safe" Your boyfriend started the same answer you hear every time you would bring up his job. It was different though, he never really genuinely apologized to you. Sure, a quick 'my bad' or 'i'll do better' usually left his mouth, but you've never heard him say 'i'm sorry'. He put his head down as he continued.

"I'm sorry that you feel that way, you know I'm not happy about me canceling our dates either. I can dress up and go trick-or-treating with you, ma. I hate seeing you like this, I'll do better, princessa."

Miles stole a quick kiss on your lips, then on your forehead as he got up from the bed, reaching over to your Halloween costumes. His lips shifted into a soft smile as he felt a wave of warmth strike through his heart.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you two emerged from his house, you adorned in vibrant fairy costume that shimmered under the moonlight. You fluttered your wings, casting a spell of enchantment that swirled around Miles.

Miles, reluctantly participating, donned a simple costume, a bloodthirsty vampire. Deep down, he couldn't resist your excitement, and a flicker of curiosity ignited within him, as you took the lead.

Hand in hand, you set off into the moonlit streets, where houses were adorned with cobwebs, glowing pumpkins, and haunting decorations. Children, disguised as witches, superheroes, and ghosts, giggled and chattered as they darted from door to door.

You, with your infectious laughter, skipped ahead, your voice like a melody in the night. Miles trailed behind, his grumpy attitude slowly giving way to the passion he hadn't felt in years.

At each house, children eagerly showcased their costumes, their eyes shining with anticipation. Your eyes danced with delight, and your laughter filled the crisp autumn air. Miles, though initially skeptical, found himself chuckling at your excitement, realizing that Halloween held a joy he had long forgotten.

As you continued your journey collecting candy, you arrived at a house unlike any other. It's porch was adorned with shimmering lights, and a melodious tune drifted through the air. You approached, your hand entwined with your boyfriends' and your eyes wide with wonder, and rang the doorbell.

The door creaked open, revealing an elderly man dressed as a magician. With a flourish of his wand, he produced a basket overflowing with candy. As he handed you a treat, he leaned in and whispered, "May the magic of this night bring joy to even the coldest of hearts."

Miles was taken aback by the man's words. Perhaps there was more to Halloween than he had ever realized. A seed of enchantment had been planted within him, sprouting into a newfound appreciation for the night's festivities.

Eager to share this newfound delight, Miles' coldness dissipated like mist in the morning sun. He engaged in playful banter with fellow trick-or-treaters, admiring their costumes and sharing in the joy of the evening.

As the moon reached its zenith, you approached the final house on your route. The porch was transformed into a whimsical wonderland, complete with floating candles and mystical creatures. Your eyes sparkled, and Miles' heart swelled with anticipation.

You knocked on the door, and it swung open to reveal a woman dressed as a fortune teller. Her voice was soft and melodious as she greeted you. Miles exchanged glances with you, feeling as though you had stumbled into a magical realm.

The fortune teller handed you each a small, golden envelope. "Open these when the clock strikes midnight," she whispered, her eyes twinkling with mystery.

With a sense of wonder pulsing through your veins, you and your boyfriend bid the fortune teller farewell. You made your way back home, your pumpkin buckets filled to the brim with sweet treasures.

As the clock neared midnight, you sat on the couch, in the decorated living room. With a hushed countdown, you opened your golden envelopes in unison.

Inside, you discovered handwritten notes, each containing a heartfelt message from the other. Words of love, appreciation, and gratitude spilled from the pages, filling your hearts with warmth.

You and Miles exchanged smiles, your souls intertwined in a magical moment. You realized that the true enchantment of Halloween was not just in the costumes or treats, but in the bonds that were strengthened and the love that was kindled.

As the clock struck midnight, Miles took your hand in his and whispered, "Thank you for showing me the magic of this night, ma. I'm sorry for being so harsh with you and canceling our dates so often. If they are as amazing as this one, it will never happen again." Your eyes shimmered with happiness and you let out a quiet laugh at his words.

Under the moonlit sky, the two of you shared a tender kiss, the magic of the night enveloping you. In that moment, you knew that love, laughter, and the spirit of Halloween would forever illuminate your lives, casting away any shadows of coldness that may try to linger.

[waltz-malice]

no fancy format but i did happen to write a short david study last night before the sleep demons claimed me Heh.

obviously be wary of implied spoilers, also there's a brief moment of violence there too, and i also mention mai very vaguely at some point!

writing as well as ao3 link below the cut!

If David had to choose a single object he loathed more than any other, he would have to say mirrors. Sure, there was the go-to reason of having to look himself in the eye every time he passed by one, but that was so superficial at first glance. Just like him, haha.

Really, there were quite a few things he could list off about why he despises mirrors. In a physical sense, he’d grown to dread getting up in the morning and meticulously picking apart his appearance, making himself seemingly perfect to the audience he’d be performing in front of. Yes, performing, like an actor, center-stage — or more like a jester dancing for a fool’s pay of laughter alone.

David had spent countless hours staring into his own reflection, disgusted by the man he saw, the man he’d become. What had anyone ever seen in him? What had she seen in him? It didn’t matter, none of it did; it was all gone down the drain, anyway. Whatever he’d once been forgiven for now meant nothing.

Returning to mirrors, he supposed there was a metaphorical aspect to it as well. Seeing himself in others had never been a good sign for David, as he likely came to have a certain disdain for those people as well, based on what exactly he saw. Cynicism and hiding behind a mask nearly always made him want to see those people fall, to sabotage them and ‘free’ them by letting the world really know what a real fraud they were.

Optimism, true and pure unadulterated optimism like the one he portrayed in his dedicated persona, though? The initial reaction would be disbelief, skepticism, maybe a bit of envy — then, surprisingly enough, respect. He would even be endeared to such a naive, brute force in such a lost world, because deep down, he knew he’d be happier if he could have some of that hope for himself.

If David could just look at the world with some form of hope, to think that any of this could somehow, someday get better… it would be nothing short of a miracle, by this point. Still, he found himself wanting to look to such a guiding light, to follow it like he was supposed to be followed himself.

Maybe if he could be forgiven by something so bright, so good, he could forgive himself. At least, that had been his thought process.

But now, as David stared at the gruesome mess his manicured demeanor had become, he felt no remorse for the way his hopes had fallen flat. He should’ve known from the start, anyway. Nothing, nobody, no force on earth could undo the fact he was worthless, and it was his own self-inflicted torture to keep trying for better days like this.

In the back of his mind, he could hear a familiar, cheery voice reassuring him that he had worth, that he’d see a happier tomorrow, that he’d smile without feeling bile rise up his throat from the fake measures taken. He sees them in the mirror, red hair, a wide grin, eyes that shine like the sun…

David feels sick, his ears ringing as he pulls his fist back, and before he can even think about the mess he’d have to clean up later, he punches through the glass altogether. A sharp pain shoots through his knuckle and up his arm, the mirror’s shards embedded in his skin as crimson drips down onto the clean, white marble of the countertop, but even as he recoils and curses, he can barely feel it.

Numb. All of it is just numb at this point, too repetitive to elicit a proper reaction from. And this is why David can’t bring himself to look in the mirror.

or, the ao3 link here!

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Mike Luckovich

* * * *

“It’s lies all the way down.”

October 9, 2024

Robert B. Hubbell

Oct 10, 2024

“It’s lies all the way down.”

An apocryphal story tells of a skeptical audience member who challenged a 19th-century astronomer after a lecture in which the astronomer asserted that the Earth is round and suspended in space. The skeptic told the astronomer that the Earth rests on the back of a giant turtle (a myth with an ancient heritage). The astronomer patiently pushed back, asking, “On what does the giant turtle stand?” The skeptic replied, “On another giant turtle.” The astronomer persisted, “And on what does the second turtle stand?” The skeptic responded, “You aren’t going to trick me! It’s turtles all the way down!”

So, too, with Trump world’s cascade of lies. It’s lies all the way down. It is impossible to disprove lies that disappear into a bottomless cesspool of falsehoods. Trump’s self-replicating lies are a virus compounded by the absolute lack of shame or remorse when the liar is caught in the lie. The last forty-eight hours have given us the textbook example of Trump's “respond to disproven lies with bigger lies” strategy.

On Tuesday, multiple outlets reported that Trump sent Vladimir Putin an early Covid testing machine. Putin instructed Trump to keep the transaction secret because it would prove embarrassing to Trump. (In fact, as noted below, the transfer was probably illegal.)

The story of the Covid testing machine gift to Putin was met with a furious, unequivocal denial by Trump and his spokesperson. Trump told ABC News, “That’s false. He [Bob Woodward] is a storyteller. A bad one. And he's lost his marbles.

Trump's shameless campaign spokesperson, Steven Cheung, dismissed the stories, saying,

None of these made-up stories by Bob Woodward are true and are the work of a truly demented and deranged man who suffers from a debilitating case of Trump Derangement Syndrome.

On Thursday, a Kremlin spokesperson made a liar out of Trump, confirming that Trump did send a Covid testing machine to Putin during the early days of the pandemic. See Axios, Kremlin refutes Trump denial on sending Putin COVID testing equipment. The original report of the Kremlin statement is here, behind a paywall: Bloomberg, US Elections: Kremlin Confirms Trump Sent Putin Covid Tests While President.

To recap: Trump and his campaign issued a flat-out denial of Woodward’s report. The Kremlin confirmed the report, proving that Trump was lying about a matter that posed the risk of blackmail by the Kremlin.

How can this man be president?

And, just as importantly, why is the story of this blatant lie not the leading story on every newspaper and website, accompanied by a red-flashing siren graphic? But as of Thursday evening, that outrage—or even news coverage—was missing from major media.

This isn’t just any lie. It is a lie about an action by Trump that likely violated the US sanctions embargo in effect at the time. See Lucian K. Truscott IV, Kremlin confirms that Trump sent COVID testing equipment to Putin (substack.com). (“Russia was under strict sanctions by 2020, which were imposed under the Obama administration after Moscow invaded and seized the Crimean peninsula from Ukraine.”)

The media is reporting that Trump has been caught lying. But those stories lack the analysis of “So what?” and “Why does it matter?” No other candidate caught in such a lie would survive the press firestorm that would follow.

But here, the response is “crickets.” Nothing. Nada. Zip. The press spilled tankers of ink over whether Tim Walz and his wife used “IVF” versus “fertility treatments” twenty years ago. I hope that major editorial boards are furiously working on opinion articles that say, “Trump is a liar who is unfit to be president.”

The second part of Woodward’s story will likely prove true, as well. On Wednesday, JD Vance said, “I haven’t talked to Trump about this, but even if he did talk to Putin, what’s the big deal?” See HuffPo, JD Vance Scorched For ‘Grotesque’ Defense Of Trump’s Reported Chats With Putin.

In case you missed the point, Vance’s comments are a set-up for the revelation that Trump did, in fact, speak to Putin on a half-dozen occasions after leaving office—in direct contradiction to Trump's denials.

Why do those conversations matter? Because the DOJ has accused Russian interests of actively interfering in the 2024 presidential election. The fact that Trump is holding secret discussions with Putin at the very moment that Russia is interfering in our elections creates the strong implication that Trump and Putin are coordinating those efforts. The burden lies on Trump to rebut that logical inference.

The problem with Trump's constant lies is that they are not limited to his treachery. He lies about immigrants, elections, the economy, and natural disasters. Trump has managed to create distrust between victims and first responders. He has encouraged potential victims to ignore evacuation warnings because they wrongly believe FEMA will seize their homes if they leave. He has caused his followers to believe that the government can control and direct the weather to “red states” or “red counties” in purple states.

Marjorie Taylor Green tweeted that hurricanes are striking “red” states because “they” control the weather. She also famously claimed that wildfires in California were caused by “Jewish space lasers.” It is always only one step from any conspiracy theory to antisemitism. (Josh Marshall of Talking Points Memo has an important story about antisemitic texts being sent to Florida voters connecting disaster relief lies and US support for Israel. See TPM, The Text Campaign Underworld and the Florida Anti-Semitism You Can Find There. This article may be behind a paywall.)

It has become so bad that President Biden took to the airwaves on Wednesday to deny that the US government controls the weather. See Talking Points Memo, Biden Forced To Remind Everyone He Doesn’t Control The Weather.

When the media ridiculed Marjorie Taylor Greene’s ludicrous lie, her response was to double down with more lies. See The Independent, Marjorie Taylor Greene doubles down on weather control conspiracy theory despite experts rubbishing ‘hurricane modification’.

Marjorie Taylor Greene expounded,

“Everyone keeps asking, ‘who is they?’ Well, some of them are listed on NOAA, as well as most of the ways weather can be modified . . .” Greene also attached screenshots of “weather modification project reports” from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration [NOAA] website.

Marjorie Taylor Greene’s attack on NOAA is consistent with the goals of Project 2025. Project 2025 proposes the “commercialization” (read: privatization) of NOAA’s weather forecasting function.

Per PBS, Project 2025 “describes NOAA as a primary component “of the climate change alarm industry” and said it “should be broken up and downsized.”

Republicans are institutionalizing lies. For example, in Florida, Governor Ron DeSantis signed a bill in May that removes the term “climate change” from state law and “deprioritizes” efforts to fight global warming. See NPR Florida Gov. DeSantis signs bill that deletes climate change from state law. DeSantis said when he signed the bill that “I am not a global warming guy,” but 90% of Floridians believe climate change is happening now. After Hurricane Milton, that percentage is likely to increase.

The attack on NOAA and the institutionalized lies in Florida bring us full circle to Hurricane Milton and Trump's “lies all the way down” strategy of undermining trust in the government. That strategy seeks to reduce the size and presence of the federal government in our lives. However, Hurricanes Helene and Milton highlight the federal government's irreplaceable role in natural disasters that quickly overwhelm the resources of any individual state.

Trump's lies matter. It should be big news when he lies, not a collective yawn in the media and among elected officials. Lying about the federal government's response to natural disasters and his own violations of US embargo sanctions against Russia are disqualifying for the presidency. The media needs to say so. As do we—with an overwhelming repudiation of Trump at the polls.

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

[thisnameisnotspokenfor]

If Asha and Ceph were to meet other Disney/DreamWorks/Pixar characters,who would they get along with the least to the best?

Would Asha adore Hiccup's inventions?

I got this idea from thinking how toothless would react to ceph's true form.

On a side note

Which would Asha prefer,the assassins or her monthly.

And who would win Ceph's insanity or Baymax's care

Also who would win in a fashion debate between Edna Mode and Ceph?

It’s been a hot minute since I’ve seen a dreamworld movie so I’ll do Disney

((WARNING THIS IS LONG))

In terms of other Disney characters especially heroines I think Asha would get along not so well with Merida and maybe Aurora. Merida is sort of a frenemy. Merida breaks rules and societal expectations while Asha adheres too them a bit too much. Merida turned to magic to solve her problems- Asha hates that. So they’d probably be a little uncool with each other at times which ngl would be sorta funny because I imagine that Asha is unfortunately the only person in the joke who flat out understands Merida says. But I think they’d probably tolerate each other for the most part.

As for Aurora well I think Asha would understand her being upset at her life being suddenly uprooted but I mean considering Asha is a peasant if you ever wanna annoy her just be a princess who cries over having to be royal. She’ll politely tune you out in a heartbeat.

I think she’d be neutral on Anna. Not in a bad way. They’re on two completely different ends of the spectrum in everything.

I feel like she’d be torn over Elsa. Really torn.

Not sure how she’d get along with Raya tbh.

I think she’d respect Cinderella a lot- especially when Asha gains some more retrospective skills. (I’ll go into more detail about this in the future)

She’d get along super well with Mirabel, Kida, Snow White, Mulan, Rapunzel and Tiana. Works for her dreams like Tiana (with skepticism in the magic part), she’s uncovering her people’s past for the betterment of their society like Kida, relates to the chores/hardwork and admires Snow White’s good spirit and Mirabel? Goodness these two would be therapy buddies. They’ve both been the black sheep of their respective groups by not being born with magical abilities to serve the purpose of the authoritative figure who uses magic to rebuild a society and is paranoid of the past repeating itself.

I feel like she’d also get along well with Moana too! They both love sailing, and pushing boundaries. She thinks Moana is super clever as well

((I feel like her and rapunzel have a lot in common too- the authoritative figure in their life belittling them, and wanting to chase their dreams so they’d probably be close as well))

Asha would love Hiccups inventions! (I admit I’ve never seen how to train your dragon)

Uhh Toothless don’t look at that…you don’t want to see that….

And to answer your questions:

Asha is taking her monthly over the assassins.

Ceph is not openly insane to people he doesn’t know. So if anything if he met Baymax he’d act like a normal person at first (he’d be very curious about just what Baymax is)

That last one is a tough one. I mean Edna was spitting some facts but let’s be honest- If any of those things- getting sucked into a tornado, a plane engine, a rocket/bomb, etc happened to Ceph. He’d walk it off.

So they’d be at an impasse because I can’t see either side relenting and this is probably the only thing that even magnifico would side with Cepheus on.

Star clothes is different from earth clothes in SO MANY ways (supernatural properties, they’re very resilient, they change to match the sky etc). So the best outcome is for Ceph to just give her some star clothes and she lets him keep his cape.

Hopefully.

I might do a separate post on how Ceph would interact with other characters.

[7ndipity]

Pumpkin carving with Tae

Taehyung x Reader

Summary: Just a cute pumpkin carving date with Tae.

Warnings: like one suggestive joke, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Tae, are you ready yet?” You called, setting out the last of the supplies the two you would need.

“Almost!” He yelled in reply.

As soon as the two of you had gotten back from picking out your pumpkins, he had zipped off to the bedroom to change, saying he had a surprise, piquing your curiosity.

When you had originally suggested decorating pumpkins together, you had thought it would be a easy enough idea for date night, seeing as technically all you needed was pumpkins and some knives or paint, but you must have somehow forgotten that you were dating Taehyung, because nothing with Tae was ever truly simple. He loved going all out on activities with you, especially holiday related things, and so far, this had not been an exception.

As soon as you had walked into his apartment, you had been stunned to find his living room fully decked out in Halloween decorations, paper bats and ghosts taped to the walls with black and orange streamers draped all over the place. He even lit a few pumpkin spice scented candles for full immersion, a full blown Halloween party, just for the two of you. He’d left you to browse the list of spooky movies he’d pulled up on the tv while you waited, taking note of the massive tray of candy and snacks that he’d also acquired, which there was no way you could possibly both eat even half of.

You’d just decided on a movie when the bedroom door swung open again, Tae strolling back into the living room, now wearing a pair of black dress pants, a matching waistcoat with a purple button-up shirt underneath, and a matching cape.

“Tada!” He announced, giving the cape a little flourish.

“What on earth are you wearing?!” You gaped at him.

“I’m a magician!” He said proudly.

“But, I thought we were saving the costumes for halloween?”

“We are, this is just for today.” He said. “Oh wait!”

He quickly snatched a headband from the counter before coming over and kneeling down in front of you and sticking it on your head, so that you were now sporting rabbit ears.

“There, now you’re my little bunny assistant.” He said, grinning widely.

“You’re not gonna try and pull me out a hat, are you?” You asked, skeptically.

“Actually, I was thinking I might try and make your clothes disappear.” He smirked, earning a swat from you.

“Would you please behave for once?!” You scolded, feeling your face heat up slightly as he snickered. “This is supposed to be a wholesome date.”

“Who gave you that idea?” He chucked.

“Tae.” You whined.

“Alright, I’ll be good.” He said, sitting down next to you on the floor in front of the coffee table.

“Where do we start?”

You both set to work on your individual pumpkins, Tae quickly having to give up part of his costume for the sake of functionality, discarding the cape over the couch arm and rolling up his shirt sleeves. Which, in your opinion, made the look far more attractive, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. He knew all too well the effect he had on you, and you weren’t in the mood to inflate his ego any more than necessary at the moment.

You were so focused on your own pumpkin, trying your best to get the eyes of your design even, that you hadn’t noticed his attention shift to watching you.

One of his favorite things was getting to watch you work on things like this, whether is was an art project or just trying assemble a piece of flat-pack furniture, something about the way your face scrunched up in concentration as you worked was so endearing to him, never failing to make him smile.

Letting the fluffy feeling in his chest get the better of him, he leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, causing you to start slightly, glancing up at him in surprise.

“What was that for?” You asked, letting out a small laugh.

“I dunno, you just looked cute, I wanted to.” He said, grinning at you, reaching over to adjust your ears, which had drooped forward and were beginning to threaten to cover your eyes.

Your eyes followed his movements, feeling your face grow warm again, before you snapped yourself back to attention.

“Are you almost done?” You asked, clearing your throat awkwardly.

“I think so, do you wanna see?” He said, moving back to his previous seat.

“Yes, please.”

He spun his pumpkin around, making you let out another laugh. Of course, he would carve his signature Vante design.

“That’s pretty good, actually!” You said, impressed.

“What, did you doubt my skills?” He asked, looking at you questioningly.

“No, never.” You said, shaking your head seriously.

“What about yours?” He asked.

“Eh, it came out a little lop-sided, but I think it’s still cute.” You said, turning your pumpkin around to face him, earning a thrilled gasp from him.

“Is that Tata?!” He exclaimed, leaning closer to examine the familiar heart-shaped alien design.

“It’s supposed to be,” You said, grinning shyly. “Do you like it?”

“I love it! I wanna take pictures of them to show the guys, it’s amazing!” He said, tackling you in a bear hug, sending you both sprawling on the floor.

“Tae! You’re gonna crush me!” You squealed, giggling as he peppered your face with kisses.

“I would never.” He chuckled, propping himself up to meet your eyes. “I love you.”

You raised a brow at him in surprise. “So suddenly?”

“Yeah, is that okay?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You nodded, winding your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a proper kiss.

“Hey Tae?” You mumbled against his lips.

“Hmm?” He hummed.

“I love you too.”

“Good.”

[tinynerdz360]

Above and Beyond Chapter 3: NASA

Teddy Sanders sat rigid, his mind still processing the discovery made by the Ares crew. Mitch Henderson, Annie Montrose, and Vincent Kapoor were with him in his office.

"We've got a situation," Teddy said gravely. "The Ares crew has discovered what appears to be...an alien child."

Shocked silence. Coffee sloshed onto Mitch's shoes from the mug he was sipping. 

 Annie broke the silence, her voice tinged with incredulity. "Is this some joke? Are we being pranked?"

Teddy shook his head. "They swear it's real. Kapoor, your thoughts?"

Kapoor stroked his beard. "The statistical probability of encountering alien life is infinitesimal. And yet..."

"Apparently higher than we thought," Teddy responded dryly, watching each grapple with the revelation's weight. He knew NASA had hypothetical protocols for extraterrestrial contact, but nothing so specific, nothing for this.

"It looks human," Teddy said. "Identical in most ways, except for some key differences; it's got glowing skin, eyes, and green blood."

Mitch gulped his coffee. "Have them keep studying the thing. We'll figure out what to do once it's back on Earth."

Vincent Kapoor cleared his throat. "The resemblance to humans is...striking. Statistically improbable, as I said. Makes one wonder..."

He trailed off, but Teddy picked up the thread. "Wonder if it's some kind of experiment. Engineered to look like us. A trap."

"One would think they'd do a better job making it look like a human if that was the case." Mitch pipped up. "Maybe something bigger is messing with both races if we follow that line of thought." 

Teddy shook his head. "Either way, finding a lone child lightyears away from any hospitable planet defies logic. We have to consider this may be bait for something larger."

"It does beg the question of how he got to Mars; our satellites have not detected any crash or ship in orbit or on the surface. Granted, we could have missed something, or it could be that our guests have better technology that allows them to hide." Kapoor added. 

Teddy stood abruptly. "Another reason why we need to keep this quiet. Once word gets out, we lose control. I won't have chaos over this...thing. We have more questions than answers."

Annie threw up her hands. "We can't just hide an alien child like some dirty secret." Annie Montrose leaned forward, her hands pressed flat against the gleaming surface of the conference table.  "Teddy, with all due respect," she began, her voice measured but carrying a bite that demanded attention. We shouldn't keep this secret for too long; the backlash would be bad."

  "Backlash? What about panic and people's worldviews and beliefs being turned around? The public can't know... not yet," Teddy shot back. 

The gruff voice of Mitch Henderson cut through the rising tide of disquiet. "Regardless of the debate on transparency," he said, standing up, his presence dominating the small space. The Ares crew has a job to do. They're scientists and explorers—they can handle this. They should continue treating the child, assess its health and viability... and hell, even consider the possibility of bringing it back to Earth."

"Bringing an extraterrestrial being back to Earth?" Teddy raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched onto his features even as he considered Mitch's suggestion. "The risks involved with such a decision are..."

"Are worth it if that thing can teach us about what else is out there," Mitch interjected firmly, his confidence unwavering. "We adapt, we overcome. That's what we do—that's what NASA does. And right now, that little guy out there might need us more than we need another soil sample."

Annie nodded in agreement, pleased with Mitch's stance. 

"Let's not forget," she added, "that how we handle this will set a precedent for any future encounters of this kind. The world is watching, even if they don't know it yet. And while I still think the people deserve to know, I understand the high risk of hysteria." 

"Exactly." Teddy's nod was firm. He looked each of them in the eye, ensuring he had their undivided attention. "We inform the necessary agencies and get the President on board. But we do not breathe a word to the press or the public until we have the alien safe on Earth."

After a long pause, Teddy continued, " We'll proceed with caution. Mitch, coordinate with the Ares crew. Annie, start drafting contingency plans for communications. We need to be ready for any outcome."

Mitch stood. "I'll send word to the Hermes. Take good care of our new friend up there."

Vincent lingered by the door as the others began to disperse, a contemplative frown creasing his brow. "Teddy, wait," he said, stepping back into the room. Vincent Kapoor cleared his throat. "We need to learn more about...him," Kapoor said carefully. "Where he came from, why he was alone. Whether there are others."

Teddy nodded. "Agreed. It's highly concerning that we don't know how he got there." 

"The crew should also conduct in-depth research and analysis to explore the alien child's origins and capabilities." Vincent went on. 

"Like what?" Teddy prompted, his voice measured, eyes locked onto Vincent with keen interest.

"Biological assessments, behavioral studies, environmental adaptability," Vincent enumerated, counting off on his fingers. "We need data. Without it, we're navigating blind. And if we're bringing him back to Earth, we must understand how he might interact with our biosphere. He could die if we mess this up."

"I agree," Teddy said, his demeanor signaling that he understood the necessity of Vincent's point. There are a lot of unknowns here. We can't afford mistakes—not with the public, not with the government, and especially not with this child. We'll make sure the crew knows. I'm sure the kid will be in good hands." 

*******

Mitch sat down at a computer, typing out a message to the Ares:

"Ares crew, this is Flight. We have discussed the situation and feel the alien child's care and evaluation should be your top priority. Continue providing medical treatment and studying its abilities. But exercise extreme caution - we know very little about what we're dealing with. Its health and safety must be ensured before any return to Earth is considered. Proceed with your other mission objectives as normal. We eagerly await your reports. Godspeed."

*******

Leaning forward, Teddy began drafting an urgent memorandum to the President. This was bigger than any one person or agency. The fate of the world could hang in the balance. He chose each word carefully, knowing the wrong ones could set disastrous events in motion. After several drafts, he had a document that conveyed the gravity of the situation without hyperbole. The President would see the need for secrecy as clearly as he did. Teddy encrypted and sent the memo, then sat back heavily. 

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" he muttered. 

Chapter 4:

[saveugoodmadam]

ok i'm not sure if this headcanon is good but Crutchie kind of gives like Normal Person vibes, you know? Like all the other newsies are insane, Race is probably a flat earther, Spot probably thinks birds aren't real, Jack is the way that he is, but Crutchie kind of seems like he's at least less crazy than all his friends.

idk i was just watching livesies again and thought of this no clue if it makes sense

I think Livesies Crutchie is better at seeming collected but in WWK, Seize the Day (side note: I absolutely refuse to shorten the title of that song) and in the "so long, sucker" scene particularly, you can see the mischief beneath the surface. I do also kinda think that- while he clearly does have trauma from the Refuge and other unspecified incidents, and is very much implied to have some kind of trauma or unresolved issues relating to contracting polio and his disability- he is more emotionally mature than his friends (for a given value of more emotionally mature given as they're all teenage boys). For example, during the strike scene, he is shown to be skeptical about boycotting paper selling rather than his peers who are thinking more idealistically than realistically at that point.

Matthew's Crutchie is an absolute gremlin from the offset and probably has a collection of stolen newsie shoes somewhere in the penthouse, but he's also one of the more emotionally mature (again, for a given value, he is also shown to have trauma and unresolved issues relating to his own disability and is a teenage boy) and is a realist for the most part, even veering into cynicism when the prices of papers are raised. Unlike how in livesies Crutchie is eventually swayed to engaging in Jack's fantasy of Santa Fe, in uksies you get more of a idea that he's entertaining the idea of it the full way through. It's a nice fantasy, but he's clearly only thinking of it as that, and not as a future like Jack thinks of it as. He's sort of an older brother type- extremely chaotic, loud, steals your stuff but would also beat people up for you and has good advice when you need it.

I'm genuinely sorry about how long this turned out, I'm sure you weren't expecting a mini essay on this but in conclusion I think that you're right that he's more grounded and down to earth in his beliefs, but in his actions?

He's a mischief gremlin crime boy (affectionate)

[himbogiants]

Part of that World: Part 3

A/N: So everyone remember like a week or so ago when I said I wasn’t working on this? I lied. Jokes aside, I recently got motivation to start working on this again and figured I try work on it. My big issue was I didn’t know where exactly I wanted to go with the story and while I don’t have a plan set in stone I have a brief outline of what I want to do, so without further ado, here is part 3 several months late! Oh and we actually get some g/t in this one. Felt that was deserved after the wait Enjoy!)

The next morning, despite their classes everyone was over at Theo and Henry's flat at eight a.m. They'd decided to skip the morning classes, deeming this matter much more important.

Theo hadn't peaked at the footage early this time, now knowing what to expect wanting to be in the presence of his friends to watch what the diminutive dynamic duo. His gracefully picked up Henry’s phone and tilted it in the light. His heart had been beating wildly that concluded altogether when under speculation, tiny handprints could be seen imprinted on the screen.

He needed to sit down after seeing it, the mere height difference was staggering. They were practically pixies from his game. He was reminded of the time Maiseys character was a such a creature. It was interesting then even when simply using their imaginations, to deal with the height difference. It was like deja vu, happening again only this time not with Maisey, not imagination and apparently not pixie. Oh and the boldest of differences, this was real.

Henry -who given the commotion of the last day or so- was now up as early as his roommate, coming to Theo’s side and following his gaze. It was unreal- in fact common science deemed this impossible if the square cube law was correct

Yet here before him imprinted on his screen was all the evidence to testify. He let the light bounce off his phone to see the different angles at which they had navigated his device. To think that something- or rather someone- so alien had touched this very phone was quite a lot to process.

Theo left to open the door and let the others in, Henry gave a smug glare at the door. The groups time keeping had been almost as improbable as the current circumstances. Well at least Thomas and Sadie. Maisey was always on time- yet another thing he cherished about her.

Once again, when everyone had settled down, Theo played camera three's footage. And once again, the pair came sliding out at two in the morning.

Daphne, the more eccentric of the two had come rushing out once again. There was something about her enthusiasm that made a grin magically appear. She had a lot of energy tonight, more so than the previous one he would argue. Once again her friend, Riven, was skeptical and cautious, but followed his friend all the same. He really hoped the 'phone stunt' would win him over tonight. If he could get that borrower to see they werent a threat, he may get to meet them. He didn't feel he'd have to convince Daphne awfully hard, as she always had a fondness for human creations. He was particularly excited to see her reaction the phone.

She came out with the full intention of sourcing out the camera, only to spot the phone sitting out in the open- and exclaiming wildly to Riven.

“Riven! Riven!!! Get over here!!'

Henry froze at those words, almost the exact same words Theo had said the day prior upon his discovery. Only with his name, of course. But he also noticed the other borrower was looking around in a cautious manner- no doubt he noticed the removed traps.

"Guess she saw the phone" Thomas whispered, although there was absolutely no reason to whisper. It was as if he imagined his voice could mess with the recording.

They watched the duo try gage what on Earth a phone was, and admittedly it was extremely entertaining. Daphne had done the same quick touch test with it as she had with the camera, and she was giving her poor friend a heart attack. Then they tried to figure out how to turn it on through various attempts. It was still so weird to hear them say humans, as if they werent the foreign lifeform in the matter. After a final push the screen lit, resulting in Daphne scrambling back and poor Riven almost falling off the counter- a moment that made the entire group suck in a sharp breath and tense in their seats. But in almost no time she had them back at it.

They analysed everything.

The doorway theory was a particular favourite of Theos, as if Henry's wallpaper was actually some sort of portal.

Henry found himself amused at how she believed it to be magic, along with Maisey giggling at their belief that basic medication was too a magical property.

Thomas and Sadie however took note on how the boy blushed at the girls eyes lighting up at the phone, both smirking and leaning forward with interest.

It took them long enough to get in, through deep analysis at the time and date which everyone found themselves laughing at- and then full on cracking up at their understanding of 'swipe to unlock' along with Daphnes belief that phone granted access because it liked humiliation. Henry was quiet glad he got rid of the password now, they wouldn't have had a hope with that matter.

But the moment they'd all been waiting for had arrived. The pictures. The crew waited with baited breath, hoping, praying, that this would work. So far the phone had mamaged the multiply Daphnes wonder ten fold and had even captured the positive attention of Riven. The pictures were the last piece of the puzzle to make this a success.

They both fell silent when the photo album opened, until Daphne selected a picture.

This was it!

Everyone sat up slightly, tension and hope battled in the atmosphere, as the picture lit up the screen. An image of the group after finishing their third campaign. It was a favourite amongst the group, it reflected them all in a positive light- except Henry of course but that was part of why they loved it.

But the reactions weren't what they were hoping for.

Daphne thought they were borrowers- absolutely shocked by what she was seeing.

Riven thought it was a trap that captured borrowers and all joy had left.

Daphne in her confusion grew frustrated and confused, wanting to know why they had to hide if the borrower secret was out, more so upset with her father than anything. She found herself believing Rivens frightened theory, only she wasn't frightened, just perturbed. She believed that the borrowers in the picture were living her dream life. One of normality.

Maiseys eyes saddened. When she suggested this idea she never meant to upset anyone..

But thankfully for the group, Riven was a good friend. Despite persuading her to leave she was smiling somewhat again and Thomas and Sadie were living for the drama. As they went to turn off the phone, Daphne noticed something.

She realised they werent borrowers- and that picture was off the group. She seemed more relieved that the picture was of humans than it being a trap. She sure was reckless.

She sat by the phone pondering questions, staring in awe, though it would be her next line that hooked everyone to the screen.

'I..I wish we could talk to them'

Theo was downright ecstatic, Henry felt accomplished, Sadie shared Theos reactions mixed with Thomas's pride. Maisey felt relief and happiness, her idea had worked.

But the other borrower didn’t share her view. Riven was all but jaw-dropped by the statement, it had turned him into a stuttering mess as he searched for how to word his reasons- only for the miniture girl to come in defense of the group. Describing each and every one of them

Maisey was flattered as she blushed at the compliment touched by the borrowers words.

Sadie too found herself beaming "the girl has taste" She smirked triumphantly.

Thomas was like a child on Christmas day with his analyses. She thought he was sneaky- to which he remarked that she had "no idea"

Pretty much everyone burst out at Henry's words, all except for him, who upon mention of his glasses fixed them on his face- secretly hiding his smile as he did. He supposed there was a lot worse to be called than creepy. Maybe he'd get the chance to prove her wrong.

But the party all shared a warm smile at her compliment to Theo, whose heart pretty much melted into a puddle. She was absolutely adorable, he wanted to just scoop her up through the screen. He began picturing scenario after scenario. Her in his hands, her on his shoulder, her assisting him as Dungeon Master. Oh it was all so exciting!!

Butttt Riven just had to chip in and ruin it. No..no that wasn’t fair. Theo understood. They werent supposed to be discovered after all, it was 'dangerous'.. but wasn't it clear from Daphnes words that they wouldn't harm them?

Daphne only assured him she'd never actually talk to them, and he felt himself shift a little, heart aching at opportunity being snatched up once more.

Though, Daphne clearly wanted to join him and his friends..it wasn't fair. Surely there had to be something he could do. But Riven nor his group would approve. But she would..?

The conversation finally ended, and the pair wandered off once more retreating back to their home and Henry shut off the TV.

Nobody knew exactly what to say. On one hand the phone had served its purpose. On the other it was clear neither borrowers would make themselves known.

"Is leaving notes still an option?" Theo chirped with hints of hope lingering in his voice. Everyone frowned at this, and Theo rolled his eyes slumping into the seat. He was aware on why that was a bad idea. It would most likely push them away..or at least one of them.

"OK.. so it did and didn't work. What now?" Sadie announced as if the thought was playing everyone else's mind.

"Keep watching?" Maisey suggested

"Give them more stuff to look at?" Thomas mused.

"Guys, did you not hear them? They're never gonna do it.." Sadie groaned.

"Well we can't exactly force anything. It would ruin any chance we have at talking with them" Henry replied.

Thomas groaned

"Ugh this is yesterday all over again."

Theo stayed quiet. Something that didn't go unnoticed by Henry, with a deadpan face his sighed "I know that face. What's on your mind?"

Theo flinched a little, he forgot how good Henry was at reading people.

"I- well- fine. Look, why don't we just try make contact with Daphne? I mean did you not just see how much she wants to meet us? Would it really be so bad?"

Henry sighed "It may put a rift in their friendship though Theo, and I'm sure that's something she values much more."

Sadie however seemed to lean into Theos idea

"I can't believe I'm saying this but..Theo has a point."

Theo flexed his arms exasperated "thank you Sadi- wait hey!" Sadie paid him no mind and continued

"But I don't want to be the reason if it drives them apart. In case it wasn't obvious to the rest of you, he's mad about her. I'm not sure she knows. Or if she does she doesn't seem to acknowledge it. Point is they're really close. Nevertheless, pulling them apart would be wrong. So...we confront them together"

This split everyone up

Theo agreed, Thomas was fifty fifty, Henry and Maisey didn't like it at all.

"We should flip a coin"

"These are living beings, this isn't something to flip coins over Thomas." Henry snapped.

Everyone was shouting over one another until Theo had enough he abruptly stood from the sofa over the ensuing chaos.

"OKAY OKAY. EVERYONE SHUT UP. I didn't mean to cause an argument. I shouldn't have said it. We wait one more night then. Just one more. After tonight we decide our approach. Contact or no contact. I'm sure you all know which one I prefer. But let's see how this plays out. After all, faith might have other plans".

—————————————————————

Riven couldn't stop thinking of last night. More so Daphne, and how certain she was at the idea of meeting the humans. He lost a good chunk of sleep over it, and his sleeping pattern was messed up enough from their adventures. The more he thought on it the stranger everything seemed to be. The traps. The box. The object from last night. It was all connected, he knew that much..but he didn't understand how.

All throughout his shift he lamented of sleep and conspiracies- at least that was what he was thinking off. He noticed the Chief- more so Daphnes Father- storming past him, as he did, the man glared daggers into him and stomped in the opposite direction of his home. Riven watched as he approached Barney inviting him to join his side. They spoke, though from his position Riven had no clue on what it could possibly be about. Daphnes father was infuriated, Barney looked rather smug. The chiefs dislike of him was nothing new, as well as his appraisal of that rodent Barney- but something seemed off. He longed to ask his friend about it, but he was well aware of the trouble he'd cause if he left his post-so he'd be sure to ask later.

Daphne was furious. After an hour in to her post, her father pulled her aside for a 'talk'. What may sound like a pleasant conversation was anything but. Whenever her father wanted to 'talk' it meant nothing good. Nothing good at all. Begrudgingly she followed suit, as the pair traversed through the colony into the woods, though it was more her following behind him like some obedient creature.

Her father remained silent and she gulped. That couldn't be good.

"Don't you have anything to say?"

Uh oh.

"Um..lovely weather we're having?"

His glare was so sharp she was sure it cut into her.

"You left the colony last night."

Daphne stopped walking feeling her heart stop.

"No, I was at home, repairing some clothes. Where'd you get that from?"

At this he turned to face her, something she didn’t appreciated as his eye contact was not something she found herself able to hold. He looked perfectly enraged.

"A report from Senon was that you were seen entering the border at sunrise. So don’t play coy with me”

Daphne internally cursed- she knew she should've gone the other way- of course Senon would rat her out, he was one of Barney's right hand men. In her defence she had checked for wandering eyes but none were found. Of course Senon had found some way to spy on her. But at least Rive-

"With that boy."

She shut her eyes and huffed out a sign of frustration at her karma. She’d get Barney for this. And that weasel of a spy. For now she needed to sort this, for Rivens sake. He risked enough for her.

"Father I-"

"How many times?"

"I'm- I'm sorry?"

"How many times have I told you no?"

"I can ex-"

"How many times?"

His voice was eerily low, and part of her wished that he would just scream and scratch this suffocating tension. But her father wasn't the type. She swallows her frustration and continued

"Many- but I"

"Precisely"

He laughed dryly but even to an unknown ear one could tell he was far from happy. He'd continue soon enough though, he just happened to appreciate the art of dramatic pauses. Daphne remained silent.

"And yet you still left!"

There it is

"Part of me believes this isn't your first offence either, is it?"

Her face had burned red, and her lips parting as she tried to finally fathom words, for Rivens sake.

“I’ve left before but only to see more of what the forest had to offer! With the colony growing bigger I thought.. it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry. But Riven did no wrong. I made him come with me last night… for..for protection as despite what you feel he is a dear friend of mine. He could hardly disobey the daughter of the chief right?.. b-but the entire time he talked against such actions and tried to persuade me to go back!”

Her father’s brows furrowed even further, his cheeks blooming a rosy hue. She’d really done it now.

“He does not take orders from you but me. You may be my daughter but you do not hold such power. Now you listen here. This is never to happen again. And you stay away from that boy- or I'll have him pay the consequences. Are we clear?"

Her eyes widened at the thought of the harm her father could cause Riven, sickening imagery infecting her mind. She wanted to curse to him at how valiant Riven was and how he was twice the man than anyone in the damn colony. But that would make matters worse. For now she was just relieved she’d gotten the blame off of her only ally.

"Yes, father."

Her father huffed at this.

"And If you want protection, you come to me. I will assign you a guard. No matter how many times I ensured you that leaving this colony was out of the question you went anyways. Now if you won't listen I'll make you listen, through punishing that boy. You stay away and you stay put. It’s time you grow up. You're eighteenth nameday passed over eleven moons ago. It is time you contribute to our colony and this family. It is time we find you a suitor, and you continue our legacy and lineage."

There was so much to comprehend from what he had just said and she felt like vomiting. Her father wanted her to marry and bare children? She was still a child herself. There was so much left to do she wasn't ready to settle! She never wanted to in the first place! She was made to explore and see more of what this world had in store not become some maiden. There was nothing wrong with such aspirations- but they weren’t hers!

"Father please, I- I'm not ready for such duties. I contribute already through the Scouts. A-and I know I've said it before but I could do so much more if you just let me borrow-"

His pupils seemed to shrink and his voice raised to a rough command.

"Listen here and listen well. I've already lost your mother. I will not loose you too. You will never be a borrower and that is for your own safety! Why don’t you understand that? I only want what’s best for you. I only want to keep you safe. Enough with this borrowing business is that clear?!"

Adding insult to injury she shook her head slowly. She’d never win. In times like these loathed not being born a man. Her father would never treat a boy this way. She seen that much through Barney.

"Good. Return to your post at once. Or need I get a guard to assist you?"

She wanted to snarl, to scream, to cry out. But it would get her nowhere, and would only earn her an unwanted chaperone like that of a child. So she nodded solemnly, turned and walked away.

As she headed back she lost herself in her thoughts. She couldn't go back to the human home now. Well, not with Riven anyways. And his support, though hesitant at times could be essential. And now with a marriage in line, her father would now have guards on her at all times- namely Barney.

Part of her had a gut wrenching worry that it was Barney who he had in mind, she'd worried it from the start. But Barney was just a guard. She knew she'd most likely be married to a son of a council member. And the idea both disgusted and relieved her.

She was unbelievably pent up. She couldn't go to Riven- she couldn’t risk his punishment. She’d find a way to write to him, explain the situation and delve some sort of plan. Suns, how could she simply go back scouting after all this?

Daphne was angry. Now she had been angry the night before, but that was an uncertain mix with confusion and sadness intertwined, possibly a hint of betrayal. But this anger was raw- and for her optimistic self, quite rare.

And when anger like this came upon her, she tended to do stupid things.

She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t stupid. Yes her decision making wasn’t as agile but that didn’t affect her smarts. If her father was never going to let her do anything then perhaps it was time to show him how good of a borrower she could be. She’d bring back such finds a borrower couldn’t dream off. And to keep Riven safe she’d.. she would have to go alone. She wilted at this, but images of life filled with boredom and childcare filled her mind, and the only thing to do was run away from that possibility. It was time to borrow.

Riven had always trusted his gut instincts. And after her fathers venomous gaze and Barney's vulgar smugness he knew something was wrong with his friend. He didn't have very much time left on duty, the sun's position telling him it was around high noon. It could be really difficult to tell the time on cloudy days when one couldn't access the sun, but today was one of the sunniest summer had offered thus far and while the heat was intense to a borrower, he was just thankful for a speculation of when he finished at this mind numbingly boring post. Although he'd never say it out loud he envied humans for their measurements of seconds, minutes, hours, the whole package. He could admit that understanding the clock in that kitchen would be a helpful endeavour.

His partner today (Wren? He was almost sure that was her name anyways) had stretched, announced they were done and headed off to the makeshift food area.

But Riven turned the opposite way. He needed to find Daphne, he needed to make sure he was okay. Put an end to these stupid gut feelings that taunted him. Ensure she was safe.

He was so distracted on sourcing out Daphnes post, he hadn't even heard a voice behind him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Riven came to a sudden halt, his fight or flight instincts always kicked in at that voice- and they always assumed the fighting aspect.

Barney.

Though it seems today that he had reacted a tad bit too late, as by the time he turned around two figures siezed him- one kicking in his legs to buckle his knees, the other adding a foot into his stomach that made nausea spew with the pain.

Unable to avoid it he collapsed to the ground with a grunt, and Barney hunched down before him.

"Told you I'd deal with you later, didn't I?"

He shoved his face into the muck, erupting a sharpness in his head.

"Restrain him. Chief did say this was a punishment after all"

Rivens eyes widened at this. Punishment? What for? And more importantly where was Daphne?

—————————————————————

Daphne had never been here during the day. And she'd never been alone. A pang spread through her chest that Riven wasn't by her side today. She knew he'd worry if he was aware she came here alone. But Daphne so badly needed to clear her head and so after her long venture to the building and in through the walls, she had arrived at the tile. This was the same tile she always came rushing through today- but as of now she was in no mood at all to rush anything. She had never been caught before, the pair had always been more than careful. She just couldn't convert that to her father but she would soon enough. She would show him there was so much more to her than 'continuing a legacy'.

She softly pulled back the tile and stepped out.

Her senses were almost overwhelmed at the site. The kitchen looked so lively in the daylight. There was signs of activity too, giant cups, (or mugs? What was the right word? Why did humans need two words for there liquid containers?) their was a wift of something strong in the air coming from inside the cups but she couldn't describe what- not only that but there were five of them. Suns how much did humans drink? Surely only one lived here right? Was this amount normal?

She noticed things the moonlight seemed to neglect, like plants sitting on the opposite side of the room. She felt a growing urge to go explore them, her earlier anger dissipated away like clouds in a sun filled sky.

Here she stood out on the counter. The sake way she had many times before, a newfound bravery washing over her. She was finally going to borrow. What was the point in being called a borrower after all, if one could not do such a thing?

The clock still ticked on, but the kitchen didn't sound as empty- partially due to the vented window that granted access to bird song. Bird song that otherwise distracted her from other sounds.

It was then that Daphne remembered in her calmer mind frame, about that strange box she was determined to dissect.

Only when she turned to look at it, it wasn't there. She felt a little disheartened at this, having been so enthralled with it the past two days. Yesterday on the way home she vowed she'd uncover its secrets tonight, but that wouldn't be the case now.

She walked along the counter top, feeling as if she'd forgot something or a part of her was missing without her usual company. She wasn't a fan of this feeling.

She never gone this far in either, having passed the profound trench of the sink. She always found that word funny since she had learned of it, it felt fitting. The water would sink down bellow into a mysterious hole, she'd love to know where it would go. Or where it came from for starters. Borrowers got their water naturally, heating up with fire from small candles (another obsession she used to have, she found fire fascinating. At the age of ten when she had tried to touch it, it had no been friendly or welcoming, leaving a long mark that still scarred the majority of her left arm today. Not to mention, during this era, she'd almost set the colony afire..four times.) She wondered if humans did too.

Now she was passing a large glassy plane- not unlike the object from the previous night. It had four wide circles drawn on it, and near the edge of the counter, strange little details with words on images lay waiting command.

She was about to go over and methodically fiddle with these off triggers- when she noticed just up ahead.

Another box.

Or maybe the same one?

She didn't care. She was going to figure it out. Yes. She'd figure it out and then find something to take back home with her. Or perhaps take this home?

She dashed over, feeling a sudden rush spread throughout her. This is what she was made for. And even though it was hard to ignore to emptiness with her confidante, this felt right.

She stopped just before it once more, dropping to her knees. The red light was gone, which struck her as odd. That red dot was always blinking? Though thinking on it she'd never inspected the back of these boxes. Maybe there would be an answer there?

And so she did, there was a few notable indents, some writing- a new odd word. She tested it on her tongue

"C-came-ra? Cam-erah? Huh? Is that what you are? However you say it.."

Then she noticed another weird circle- what was it with humans and their constant circles?- but similar to the lines on the object last night, it too jutted out. Remember how she- or rather they- had dealt with that, and so she pressed against it.

She hurried back over to the front with anticipation- and to her delight it had returned! She squealed and gave a quick clap of victory, proud of herself.

She tilted her head and scratched her head.

"So..what do you do? Clearly your strange light does something..but what?"

It was then Daphne heard the door open followed by a thunderous voice. She felt her heart drop into her stomach. And eyes widen at a revelation.

Humans.

She was given no time to process this unwelcoming intrusion as through the door walked an impossibly tall lurking giant. He had dark hair, dark eyes and strange circles on his face. It was the grumpy human she'd seen yesterday!

Realising her position she instantly scrambled for cover- her only shelter being the camera. She curled up into the smallest ball she could muster and sue held her breath. He heart was hammering like that of a hummingbird.

She had always wanted to meet a human. But out of that group this was the last one she wished to meet. And she never expected to be this scared. Her form was trembling, so much so she worried he'd hear her quivers. She longed for Rivens reassurance, and with him in mind she felt a small tug of determination. Covering her mouth with one hand and holding her heart with another and sat, and she waited.

Henry entered the kitchen, everyone had been long gone since this morning. Theo was in his room preparing to leave for his late lecture. Henry felt quite fortunate he didn't need to leave for another hour. He decided to ask Maisey if she'd be finsihed before then so he could leave with Theo and meet up with her for a bite to eat.

He had at least, until he remembered the state of the kitchen.

Fair, it wasn't overly messy, but nobody had bothered to clean up their mugs and cups from this morning! Along with Theo leaving out the bread after his toast. He'd be sure to berate him for that later.

He collected the coffee mugs and empty tea cups in his hand holding all by the handle and made his way over to the dishwasher to deposit them. He bent down and placed each one in and once done he looked up to turn and grab the bread- only to notice the light blinking on Theos second camera. He gave an irritated growl.

"And he'd be the very one complaining that it ran out of battery. Theo!! Stop leaving your damn cameras on!!"

Daphne wondered at that moment how well a humans ears worked. She'd never been this close to one- nor even seen one. But she prayed their ears lacked in sense for what they made in size when she gave a contorted muffled squeak as he gained proximity. This boy was absolutely massive and he had no right to be that tall- he looked far too tall- even for human standards, which was saying something to be sure! He was just a little bit off from crouching to get through the door.

And now he was standing over her. Right over her! Even as he whispered under his breath, it still muffled throughout her, his yells to his fellow human even more so, reverberating every bone in her mere body.

She could hear Riven in her head, berating her with how he knew this would happen, only to recall all the continuous times he had warned her to be careful. She'd always heeded those warnings in her own way. All but today. And if she didn't act fast, the reason for those warnings would happen to her. She'd be caught.

But where to go?! The human currently loomed over the counter top, his face caught in a web of perplexed intensity, as if thinking through his every own choices. Whatever could he be thinking about? It was clearly something to do with this box- no..this camera- but what? It was eating her up inside and she began to entertain the thought of how his face would look if he spotted her. Would it contort and twist, into one of anger or disgust? Would it light up like the candle lights she had once been so attached to? Would his eyes buldge trying to comprehend what he couldn't possibly understand?

She shook her head briskly, she couldn't think like that! Not now anyways! She needed an exit. An escape. Shelter of any forgiving object that welcomed their endearing shadows to hide in. Then when the coast was clear once more she’d grab something worthy and go.

From down the hall Henry heard Theo zipping up his bag and watched clearly unamused as he strolled on in obliviously to grab his toast- which had mysteriously disappeared

"Heyyy” he drawled “I wasn't done"

Henry glared and pointed to the camera

"Did you hear me?"

Theo rolled his eyes and dramatically sauntered over raising a brow.

"Hear what exactly?"

Henry could choke him but he persisted. He gave a short sigh that paired well with his shortened temper.

"Stop leaving the cameras on in the day time."

Theo scoffed, clearly taken a back by this and was reflexive to defend himself

"Um no? I turned it off this-" His eyes met the device. The blinking light however, said otherwise, making his brows furrow in confusion..odd. No, no he swore he had turned it off- no he knew he turned it off. Yet here it sat blinking to itself and capturing this very conversation.

He snatched it up to double check, almost hitting the tiny girl that had been hiding behind- his breath hitched. His eyes widened and instantly done a double take.

It..It was her.

To his side, Henry huffed watching Theos attention divert, pulling aside from the problem at hand as per usual, ready to snap at his roommate but he followed his gaze, and with an audible gasp the perfect Henry almost stumbled in disbelief, his glasses tilting out of place from the commotion.

Far above Daphne, two giant boys stared down at her, and the only sound was the haunting tick from the clock on the wall. Aside from her pacing heartbeat all was still, in such motion she recognised them. Both were from the strange device. This was their home then. She caught herself before she could pondering further. She had been caught. Caught.

According to the stories she'd been fed growing up, this was a death sentence. And she didn't intend on paying it.

With adrenaline now pumping through her veins she decided not to purge anymore precious time, breaking out into a mad sprint. She wouldn't make it to the tile, not from here, but she could make it to the window!!

It seemed her actions had eluded some sort of wakeup call, and as it washed over the towering beings behind her mayhem ensued.

The smaller of the duo cried out to her, his voice deafeningly loud and desperate. Had she not been running she'd have covered her ears and their aggravating ringing.

The window was in sight, and blessed was she that it had been open an inch or so. That was all she needed anyways!

But as if his first plea hadn't been enough, on came seconds

"WAIT!!"

The windowsill before her vanished from view so rapidly she'd sworn she'd gotten whiplash and in its stead slammed down a harrowing wall of warm flesh. Left. Right. All exits were blocked. She let loose a cry as the other giant snapped.

"THEO!" Henry snarled

Theo gasped at what he had just down, as the pitiful Daphne scrambled away from the hand falling onto her backside.

She turned around so suddenly, her face red and full of fear. Theos heart dropped instantaneously. He scared her. Guilt singed and he was sputtering out unprocessed words.

"Gahh! I- I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to I-"

The girl was a shivering mess- a contrast to her usual excited self. God. He did this. This wasn't right. She wasn't right.

Her eyes met his and he felt himself freeze. The world was still once more and for the one moment it was just him, and this unexplainably miniture girl caught between avoiding him or his twitching hand caving her in. Catching this he retracted his hand, a little too fast for current events. She was breathing so quick, too quick. He'd almost given the poor thing a fully blown panic attack- nevermind a heart attack. Henry's backhand met his head

"What were you thinking!?" His roommate hissed. "Are you trying to scare her to death?!"

Henry's infuriated eyes left Theo and took in the uncanny sight before him, and done his best to soften his shock filled gaze. Bur hiding shock at a time like this was impossible. Still, she was shivering.. and he doubted looming over the girl was helping, intentional or not.

He sucked in a small breath and bent down on his knees to make his bumbling height less imposing on her, with Theo instantly following suit and dropping to the ground by his side. Henry drank in her fidgeting features, seemingly unaware of how his critical analysis unnerved every bone in her body worse than his looming. He transcribed his words thoughtfully in his head before speaking.

"I..I do apologise for all that commotion, my friend here doesn't tend to think before he acts" he shot a quick gaze to Theo who looked a mix regretful, floored and encapsulated. He continued softly, trying to assure her. He had to get her to calm down.

"It's going to be okay. I promise you're safe. We won't hurt you"

When the girl said nothing, he tried another approach, attempting to soften his voice even further.

"My name is Henry.."

Theo perked up at this, shaking his head to get his thoughts straight. How could he have forgotten introductions? He'd be smacking himself later for majority of his actions thus far but more so for his lack of manners.

"I-I'm Theon but I go by Theo-.. I'm so so sorry, I really didn't mean to scare you I just-..well.." He hung his head in a solemn shame "what he said."

Daphne was a shell of her former self. She longed for this moment. Dreamed of it.

But now that it was happening she couldn't comprehend it.

And so she collapsed.