#she’s so complex and cool and messy and-

[pearlsdiamondsandvodka]

she’s saying what I’m always thinking <3

[alygator77]

♬♪ ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : beat of my heart ♬♪

♬ pairing. college au // drummer! gojo x psychology major! reader (f)

♬ summary. being a psychology major with a passion for music, you're no stranger to chaos—between juggling school, caring for your mother, and working at a local music shop, you've learned to keep your cool. but when a cocky drummer pushes your patience to the limit, a chance encounter with satoru gojo—an enigmatic, sharp-tongued musician—turns your world upside down. as you're drawn to his dangerous charm, an unexpected connection deepens, but so do the secrets you've both been running from. will you get caught up in his rhythm before you realize it’s too late?

♬ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, slow burn, smut, angst with comfort, some fluff, readers mom has dementia, mentions of suicide, alcohol/weed usage, unresolved trauma, commitment issues

♬ words: 7.3k

♬ a/n. hi lovelies, welcome to the debut of this fic :) very excited to explore this dynamic between satoru and y/n, thanks for reading ♡

♬ taglist: open

series masterlist ♬ next chapter → pending...

ch 1 // the first measure

“Emotional regulation is defined as the process by which individuals influence the emotions they experience, when they experience them, and how they express them in response to different stimuli.”

Staring at the neatly printed words in your psychology textbook, your mind automatically begins to dissect the concept.

Emotional regulation. The holy grail of human behavior, wrapped neatly in clinical terms. It’s the ability to keep yourself in check, to craft a perfect mask that hides what’s boiling beneath the surface. The world only gets to see what you allow. If it were as easy as the textbook made it sound, half your classes wouldn’t exist.

Letting out a breath, you sink deeper into your chair.

People aren’t simple equations you can balance, after all—people are… complicated.

Emotions, even more so.

They ebb and flow like unpredictable tides, swelling when you least expect them, crashing down when you think you’ve regained control. They are messy, stubborn, and relentless—especially when the brain stops following its own rules.

Your mothers face comes to mind—uninvited. Her once-bright eyes are now dull with confusion, emotions flickering in and out like static on a broken TV. Dementia has stolen the filter that once kept her reactions in line with reality. It’s as if her mind is betraying her, one piece at a time.

You press your fingers against the pages of the textbook. Will any amount of psychology truly prepare you to untangle the complexities of the human mind? Can it allow you to help her—or at least understand her—before she’s lost entirely?

Before you can sink further into that thought, an ear-splitting crash reverberates through the store, jolting you back into the present. Glancing up with a sigh, the peaceful hum of the music store is shattered by the clumsy cacophony of someone abusing a drum kit like it owes him money.

Clearly, emotional regulation isn’t on that guy’s radar.

Yet, somehow, you’ve grown used to it. Working part-time here has taught you how to tune out chaos, as if the dissonance of the store has become its own kind of background music.

It’s chaotic, but it’s your kind of chaos.

The strings of guitars being tested, the pounding of drum kits, the chattering of customers—it all blends into a rhythm you no longer notice.

You’ve been working part-time in this quaint little music shop for so long that silence has become unsettling. If it’s too quiet, your mind starts wandering, spiraling into places you don’t always want to go. And so, the chaos is your anchor—it helps you focus, keeps you present.

Studying in silence feels foreign.

“Ugh… I have such a headache,” Utahime’s voice breaks through your thoughts, her hand pressing to her temple. Standing a few feet away, she shoots a glare towards the drum section. “He’s been at it for practically an hour now. Like… come on. Is he trying to destroy that kit or learn how to play it?”

Glancing up from your textbook, you eyes land on a brawny guy with jet-black hair, slamming away on the drums with no sense of rhythm, no control—just brute force.

“Has it really been that long?” you ask, blinking at the scene. The noise had faded into the background for you, becoming just another layer of the store’s soundtrack.

Utahime gives you a look that screams disbelief.

“You didn’t notice?”

You shrug.

“Guess I’ve learned to tune it out.”

“Tch… wish I could do that,” she rolls her eyes, rubbing her temples like the sound is physically burrowing into her skull. “That guy is killing me.”

Oh, shit. Now that your attention is focused, you notice just how bad it really is. It’s not just noise—it’s borderline offensive to music. He’s not even playing the drums—he’s assaulting them—completely unaware of the sonic devastation he’s unleashing on the store.

Utahime lets out another long, exasperated groan, her entire body sagging as she leans forward in defeat.

“I swear, if he keeps going, I’m going to snap,” her elbows rest on the counter, and she presses her forehead into her hands. “y/nnnn,” she whines, lifting her head just enough to glimpse at you. “Can you please do something?”

Glancing around the store, you catch the irritated looks of other customers—one guy near the synthesizers is glaring openly at the drummer, his hand gripping a set of headphones so tightly you half expect him to snap them in half.

It’s like the whole store is holding its breath, waiting for someone—anyone—to make it stop.

A sigh escapes your lips as you close your textbook. It’s one thing to tune out the chaos when you’re focused on studying, but now that you’re paying attention, the noise feels like an assault on your senses too. You can’t blame Utahime for losing her patience—though she’s never been one to take matters into her own hands.

“Fine, I’ll handle it,” you mutter, pushing yourself up from your seat.

“Oh, thank God,” she breathes, finally peeling her hands away from her temples. “Please, work your magic. Before we all go deaf.”

You roll your eyes internally, though you can’t help the grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Magic. Sure—that’s one way to put it.

What Utahime calls ‘magic’ is really just years of learning how to manage other people’s shit without losing your cool.

It’s not magic—it’s survival. A skill you’ve honed out of necessity, not desire. And sure, maybe your love for psychology helps—you’ve got the theories to back up the practice—but most days it feels more like wrangling toddlers who never learned how to grow up.

Taking a steady breath, you step into the fray, weaving through the store’s labyrinth of instruments and displays. As you get closer, the vibrations from the drums rattle through your bones, crawling up your spine. The sound is unbearable, like nails on a chalkboard amplified through a megaphone.

The guy doesn’t even look up, his head bent low over the drum kit, raven hair falling in messy strands across his forehead. His arms move with the rhythm of someone who has no idea what rhythm actually is, and the muscles in his forearms ripple with each heavy-handed strike as he slams the sticks down like he’s personally offended by the drums.

You stand off to the side for a moment, watching him have at it. You’ve dealt with a lot of difficult people working here, but this guy? He’s so oblivious to the fact that the rest of the store is on the verge of mutiny.

Clearing your throat, you raise your voice, hoping to break through his focus.

“Excuse me!”

Nothing.

Another crash of the cymbals, loud enough to rattle your skull. Your jaw tightens as you try again, this time louder.

“Excuuuuse me!”

Still nothing. He’s completely in his own world, bashing away with reckless abandon. It’s like he’s in a vacuum, utterly disconnected from the chaos he’s creating around him.

Jesus this guy… your patience thins and you step closer—close enough now to feel the heat radiating off him from his overexertion. His shirt clings to his back with sweat, and the muscles in his arms continue to ripple with each reckless swing of the drumsticks.

He’s not just playing hard—he’s playing like he’s got something to prove.

As you reach out to tap his shoulder, you try to keep your touch firm but not aggressive, although, the moment your fingers make contact with him, his entire body jerks—drumsticks freezing mid-air as he whips his head around to face you.

His dark eyes lock onto yours, sharp and filled with a flicker of annoyance.

“What?” he snaps, voice dripping with irritation.

Keeping your expression neutral, you try not to let his attitude get to you.

“You’ve been at this for a while,” you begin, as calm as you can manage. “We have a limited selection and there are other customers who may be wanting to try this kit.”

His eyes narrow, clearly unimpressed.

“So?” he drawls, waving the drumsticks lazily, like your request is beneath him.

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you press your lips together in protest. Stay professional, you remind yourself. Shifting your weight slightly, you square your shoulders and look him directly in the eyes.

“So,” you continue, voice firmer this time, “store policy is thirty minutes per instrument. You’ve been playing for over an hour.”

A low, sarcastic laugh bubbles from his chest, the sound filled with mockery as he tilts his head back slightly.

“And… what are you gonna do about it?” leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees like he's settling for a show—eyes glimmering with amusement as his lips curl into a smirk. “Throw me out?”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek—every fiber of your being is itching to knock this guy down a peg.

Ugh. What a tool.

The condescension in his voice grates on you like sandpaper, but you force yourself to stay composed.

“Look…store policy is pretty clear,” you reply evenly, nodding towards the sign behind the counter. “You either give someone else a turn, or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Your words seem to pique his interest—his smirk widens, eyes flicking over you slowly, appraisingly. Suddenly you’re more interesting to him than this drum set. He pushes himself off the stool in a slow, deliberate movement, and you hold your breath the moment he towers over you.

He’s by no means, a small guy.

The light behind him is blocked from his broad shoulders, and there’s a new edge to his gaze now. The moment he invades your space, it is just a little too close for comfort.

“Oh yeah?” your stomach turns from the low suggestive timber of his voice, “And what if I don’t feel like leaving, sweetheart? You gonna make me?”

Ick.

This guy might take the cake for being the most difficult prick you’ve had to deal with here, and that’s saying something. Working in this music shop, you’ve come across a lot of full of themselves wannabees, praising themselves like the next big thing—acting like God’s gift to music when all they want to play over and over again is ‘Stairway to Heaven,’ and ‘Wonderwall.’

A surge of discomfort ripples through your body, but you stand your ground. You know how this goes—he wants a reaction, and you’re not about to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch.

“Look dude, I’m not asking,” your tone sharpens, leaving no room for argument. “This is your last warning”

His eyebrows shoot up in mock surprise, and a low whistle escapes his lips, as if he’s impressed—but it’s the kind of faux admiration that makes your skin crawl.

“You’re a tough one, huh?” he muses, chuckling softly.

Leaning in, the heat of his breath brushes against your skin as he invades your space once again—far too close for comfort—and you feel his gaze sweep over you slowly, lingering in a way that feels slimy and unwelcome.

“I like a girl with a little fire,” he adds, voice dropping lower. “It always makes things more fun.”

Gross.

Your hands curl into fists by your sides and you fight the urge to recoil as a surge of revulsion twists through you like a knife.

But before you can respond—before you even have the chance to formulate the sharp retort already forming on your tongue—the air shifts and a new voice cuts in.

“Wow, did I just walk in on the world’s worst pickup line, or are we about to throw hands over a drum kit?”

Turning your head towards the source of the voice, your eyes land on a tall figure standing a few feet away—his hair is a striking shade of snowy white, messy and untamed, falling in tousled strands that almost brush against the black sunglasses obscuring his eyes, and even with his face partially hidden, there’s no mistaking the mischievous glint tugging at the corners of his mouth—like he’s watching the scene unfold for his own amusement.

Despite the casual nature of his appearance—jeans slung low, a loose-fitting hoodie—there’s something undeniably striking about him. It’s the kind of presence that demands attention without asking for it

Who the hell is this guy?

Clearly irritated by the interruption, the drummer straightens up—his smirk faltering as he sizes up the newcomer.

“This doesn’t concern you, man,” he growls, tight with irritation. “I’m just having a little conversation with her.”

The snowy stranger’s grin turns sharp, though his voice remains light.

“Yeeeah, see, that’s where you’re wrong,” he steps up beside you, and without hesitation, his arm slips around your waist, pulling you smoothly into his side like you’ve always belonged there. “Everything concerning her concerns me.”

Your heart skips a beat, caught off guard by the sudden, possessive gesture. Part of you bristles at the boldness, but another part… feels oddly safe in his grasp—like he’s been by your side forever.

There’s a shift in the atmosphere as the drummer's eyes narrow—like the balance of power has tipped—the presence of this stranger throwing him off.

“Oh really? And just who the hell are you?” he snaps.

Your mysterious stranger doesn’t miss a beat—he chuckles softly, his sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his eyes—brilliant, vivid blue, and gleaming with a spark that teeters between playful and dangerous. It’s the kind of look that makes your heart flip.

“Oh, me?” he feigns innocence with a nonchalant shrug, like this whole thing is just mildly amusing to him. “I’m nobody special.”

Sliding his sunglasses back into place, he casually pulls you in a bit closer, and you are met with the warmth of his body as he leans into you just slightly.

“Just here to make sure my girl doesn’t have to deal with assholes. Y’know how it is.”

Your mind scrambles to catch up.

Your girl? You blink, heat rushing to your cheeks as the words rolling off his tongue begin to register. You barely know this guy—hell, you don’t know him at all—and yet here he is, acting like the two of you are something.

But…maybe it’s working? Because the drummer’s eyes narrow further, his expression twisting as a furrow darkens over his features. Ah…but then you realize he’s not focused on the claim your stranger just made—no, his attention is locked on a different word entirely.

“Asshole?” he echoes, voice rising with indignation, practically spitting the word back. Clenching his fists, he steps forward with a scowl twisting upon you face. “You calling me an asshole?”

“Well, yeah,” your stranger remarks casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He shrugs again, utterly unfazed by the tension mounting between them. “When the shoe fits…I mean, you’re acting like one, aren’t you?”

Pure rage flashes across the drummer’s face, and you can visibly see his fists trembling slightly.

Uhh… on second thought, is this guy even helping?

Now you’re not so sure if your so-called rescuer is making things better or worse, because clearly, the drummer is on the verge of snapping.

“You better watch your mouth man,” the drummer snarls, fury simmering beneath the surface.

But the stranger’s grin only widens, and he exudes a confidence that makes it clear he’s not worried in the slightest.

“Heh. That’s a warning I get a lot,” he muses, tilting his head slightly. “But y’know what? I don’t usually listen.”

It's a wonder the drumsticks the drummer is fisting haven't cracked under pressure, given how tightly he clenches them—his knuckles turn white.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” he growls through gritted teeth.

A low hum rumbles against your strangers’ lips as he ponders the question thoughtfully.

“I mean, I’ve been told I’m pretty hilarious,” he scratches the back of his head, like he’s seriously considering the statement, then, glancing at you, his eyes gleam with amusement as his sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose slightly.

“Whatcha think babe? Am I funny?”

The question—and that pet name—catches you completely off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless.

But the drummer isn’t interested in the little game your stranger seems to be playing. His jaw clenches—teeth grinding audibly as his face hardens into something feral.

“I’m about two seconds away from wiping that stupid grin off your face,” he spits, taking another aggressive step forward.

Fucking hell, is a fight really about to break out at your work?

Your pulse quickens, and for a split second, you think he might actually swing at him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the stranger says, still grinning like none of this phases him.

He releases his hold on your waist and steps forward with a smooth, almost lazy movement, placing himself between you and the drummer. His hands slip casually into his pockets, posture relaxed, but the air around him shifts.

“Let’s pump the brakes, big guy,” he tilts his head slightly, a dangerous edge creeping into his tone. “You’re welcome to try. But I’ll tell ya right now—” his teasing lilt diminishes, replaced by something colder, more commanding, “you’re not gonna like how it ends.”

His words—a warning and a challenge wrapped in one—hang heavy, and for a moment it feels like the entire store is holding its breath, waiting to see what happens next. Glancing around, you notice a few customers watching the scene unfold.

Fucking hell—this has gone from bad to worse.

And yet…the drummer doesn’t swing. He doesn’t move—doesn’t even flinch.

He’s seething—rage evident in the set of his jaw, the clenched fists at his sides—but something about the stranger’s calm, unwavering demeanor is throwing him off balance. It’s almost impressive, really.

No, scratch that—it is impressive.

You misjudged this guy. He might have walked in here like a cocky troublemaker, throwing out cheesy one-liners and pushing your buttons, but now? Now, he’s cool under pressure, defusing a situation that could’ve easily escalated into violence.

Body language often says more than words ever could, and his is completely in control—relaxed, hands in his pockets, not a single muscle tensed for a fight, yet there’s a sharpness beneath the surface—an unspoken control that demands attention.

It’s brilliant in a way. He’s defusing the threat without lifting a finger—a textbook example of how to manage tension without aggression. This guy is winning a psychological game the drummer doesn’t even realize he’s playing.

Their silent standoff stretches, until finally, the stranger breaks the silence with his smooth and almost disarmingly casual voice.

“Look, man,” he shrugs one shoulder with a nonchalance that seems almost practiced. “This is me giving you a chance to walk away with your dignity intact.” Tilting his head slightly, he gestures toward you with a subtle nod. “She asked you politely to stop. This is a store, not your personal garage. So maybe it’s time you pack it up and go before you make things worse.”

There’s a moment—a pause that feels like it stretches just a beat too long—where you can practically see the drummer’s gears turning in his head, weighing his options, trying to hold onto whatever’s left of his bravado.

Then, finally, he mutters through gritted teeth,

“Whatever.”

The word is spat out, dripping with frustration and barely-contained rage, and with a sharp movement, he tosses the drumsticks onto the kit—the wooden sticks clattering against the drums in a final act of defiance.

“You’re not worth it, and this place sucks anyway,” he mutters, full of aggravation, but his heart no longer in it—it’s clear his fight has deflated.

Turning sharply on his heel, he shoves past both you and the stranger with a forceful shoulder, storming toward the exit, and once the door slams shut behind him, the sound reverberates through the store with an unmistakable finality.

Just like that, the tension breaks. It’s like the whole store exhales at once—the weight lifting from the air as the distant murmur of customers resumes.

Before you can fully process what just happened, the stranger beside you turns his attention back to you.

“Well, that was fun,” he remarks, “Could’ve gone worse though. I mean, I didn’t even get to throw a punch. Talk about anti-climactic, huh?”

You barely manage to take a breath as he closes the space between you just a little more, his movements slow and intentional, and your heart flutters the moment his sunglasses slip down slightly, just enough for you to get a direct glimpse of his eyes. They lock onto yours—those bright, vivid blues—and for a second, everything else around you fades into the background.

“Seriously though,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “You okay?”

There’s something undeniably genuine in his tone, something that cuts through the playful exterior and lands right in your chest. You weren’t expecting that—this tenderness from someone who moments ago had brushed off a near-fight like it was nothing.

His eyes—soft but still burning with intensity—hold yours captive, and for a second, you forget how to speak.

“Uh… yeah,” you manage, “I think so.”

“Good,” he says with a nod, pushing his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Because I think you owe me a ‘thank you’ for that stellar rescue.”

You blink out of incredulity.

Thank you?

So much for tender—who does this guy think he is? You nearly scoff aloud. He wants a 'thank you' for a rescue that, truthfully, you weren’t even sure you needed?

Unsure whether you’re amused or annoyed by his arrogance, you open your mouth to respond—but before you can say anything, he cuts you off with a wink.

“Kidding,” he says with a chuckle, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. “Always happy to help.” His hands settle into his pockets and he pauses, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. “Especially when it means I get to rescue a pretty girl like you.”

The compliment lands harder than you’d care to admit as you feel the warmth creeping up your neck and into your cheeks—betraying the fact that—against your better judgment—you’re not entirely immune to his charm.

A flicker of something stirs in your chest…

—nope. Let’s not go there.

Pushing it down before it can grow into something more, you refuse to let that feeling root itself.

You’re not looking for attention, especially not from a guy like this—a guy who flashes a cocky grin like he knows it works. The kind of guy who acts like the world bends to his whims.

Romance? No thanks. You’ve got bigger things to focus on. He’s exactly the kind of distraction you don’t need.

“Rescue might be a strong word,” you mutter, finally finding your voice again as you cross your arms over your chest. “I had it under control… mostly.”

“Oh, you did? My bad,” leaning in slightly, his voice lowers as if sharing a secret. “But trust me, that guy? He was one wrong word away from turning this into a full-on disaster. You’re lucky I stepped in when I did.”

You can’t help but raise an eyebrow at his comment, refusing to let him rattle you this time, and there’s a flicker of amusement creeping into your voice as you challenge him.

“Lucky, huh? So, what now? You expecting a medal or something?”

His grin widens—a grin that’s undeniably magnetic, but you resist being pulled into its orbit.

“Naaaah, I’m not that high maintenance,” straightening himself, he regards you with a slight tilt of the head. “But… I’ll take a coffee if you’re offering.”

You blink, momentarily thrown off by his response.

Did he just… ask you out?

“Wait, what?” you stammer, not quite sure you heard him right.

“A coffee,” he repeats smoothly. “Y’know, like a reward for my heroic efforts.” He pauses, just long enough to make it clear he’s toying with you. “Or is that too forward? I can settle for your number instead.”

You can’t help the scoff that escapes your lips—a sharp exhale that’s part disbelief, part amusement. This guy is unbelievable.

Nope. You’re not going to let him get to you that easily.

“I don’t even know your name,” you shoot back, lifting your chin just a little higher, “and you’re already angling for a reward?”

“Ouch, y/n,” he replies, placing a hand dramatically over his chest as if you’ve wounded him deeply—his grin, however, never falters. “That stings.”

You stare at him, your brows furrowing in confusion.

“How do you…?”

“How do I know your name?” he finishes for you, clearly enjoying this a little too much. He tilts his head. “Well, for starters, your nametag.”

Oh.

You glance down quickly and—of course—there it is, printed neatly on the tag pinned to your shirt, and now you are mentally kicking yourself for not realizing sooner.

“Right… of course,” you shake your head in mild embarrassment. It’s infuriating how easily he’s messing with you.

An amused chuckle dances on his lips and he leans back ever so slightly—hands in his pockets like he has all the time in the world.

“But that’s not the only reason I know you,” he adds, voice taking on a more playful tone, almost like he’s daring you to figure it out. “You really don’t recognize me, do you?”

You blink, trying to piece together where you might’ve seen him before. There’s something vaguely familiar about his voice…have you heard it before? Do you know him?

“I don’t…” you start, trailing off, searching for any spark of recognition, but you come up blank. “Uhh… should I?”

Flashing you a toothy smile, he's clearly delighted by your confusion.

“Ouch again. Double whammy,” with a dramatic sigh, he shakes his head in mock disappointment as his crooked grin curves up. “I guess I’m not as memorable as I thought.”

Your eyebrow quirks up at his theatrics, and despite yourself, the corner of your lips do too. Ugh. You want to be irritated with him but somehow, he makes it incredibly hard to be.

“Right… well,” tilting your head, your voice dips with playful sarcasm, “maybe if you told me your name, it might jog my memory?”

With a soft chuckle, he slides his sunglasses off and rests them on top of his head, and just like that, you’re greeted with the full, unobstructed view of his eyes—striking, electric blue, so vivid they almost don’t seem real, and they lock onto yours with an intensity that sends a flutter through your chest.

“Satoru,” he says smoothly, as if his name alone should be enough to make everything click. “Gojo Satoru.”

The name floats in your mind, like it’s circling around something, but still, nothing concrete surfaces. He seems so confident—so sure that you should know who he is—and it only adds to your frustration.

Do you know him?

Generally, you keep to yourself, both at work and on campus—with your moms condition you don’t really have time for the exciting college life. Tilting your head, your eyes narrow as you study his face—surely, you would have remembered someone like him... wouldn’t you?

“Gojo Satoru…” you test the name on your tongue as if saying it aloud might unlock some hidden memory. But still—nothing. “Sorry, not ringing any bells.”

Satoru laughs again, rich and unbothered, like this is the highlight of his day.

“Wow, I’m really striking out today,” he shakes his head in mock dismay. “I guess I’ll have to try harder next time.”

Before you can muster a response, he reaches out casually, plucking a pair of drumsticks from an endcap display nearby, twirling them between his fingers like it’s second nature. He examines them for a moment, then looks back at you with a raised brow.

“So, since we’re here and I’m feeling generous… how about you check me out?”

You glance down at the drumsticks in his hand, then back up at him—his expression is unreadable, that signature smirk lingering as if he’s waiting for you to catch up.

“...you mean ring up the drumsticks, right?” you clarify, though your voice is uncertain.

“Sure, let’s go with that,” he murmurs, and then, with a sly wink, he adds, “But I don’t mind if you do both.”

For a beat, your breath hitches, and you fight back the urge to roll your eyes.

Okay—this is guy is definitely a flirt. You’re not falling for his trap.

“Wow… you’re really not subtle, are you?” reaching out, you snatch the drumsticks from his hand. “How many women actually fall for that?” you turn on your heel towards the counter, and he follows in step.

“Hmm…I’m not exactly keeping score,” he admits. “But let’s just say I don’t hear too many complaints.”

Glancing back at him, you arch an eyebrow as you approach the register—fingers automatically moving to unlock your cash drawer, and he leans casually against the counter beside you, propping his elbow on it—like he owns the space.

“Will say though,” he adds, voice dipping lower, “I don’t usually have to try this hard. You’re pretty special.”

You scoff, your fingers hesitating slightly over the keys, though you refuse to let him see how his words make a tiny flutter bloom in your chest.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” you mutter under your breath, trying—and failing—to focus solely on the transaction.

Satoru hums, watching you with that same playful gleam in his eyes.

“Nah,” his tone drops to something almost conspiratorial, “you’re definitely one of a kind.”

Yup. He’s a smooth talker—and without a doubt, bad news.

Pressing your lips together, you force your gaze to remain on the screen in front of you. He’s playing a game, and you’re determined not to lose.

As you scan the barcode on the drumsticks, he casually pulls out his wallet to pay, and that’s when something catches your eye—a student ID peeking out from the clear pocket inside his wallet.

Narrowing your eyes slightly, your fingers hover mid-air as you get a better look. The ID is familiar—yet you can't make out the school’s name plastered right across it, but the logo and the colors are unmistakable.

Wait a second…

“We go to the same school?”

Satoru looks up, his grin stretching even wider and the glimmer in his eyes practically daring you to catch up—he’s been waiting for this moment.

“Took ya long enough,” he teases, playful but with a hint of smugness. “Yeah, we do.”

You blink, the pieces clicking together a little too late.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” you demand, unable to stop the half-accusatory, half-embarrassed tone that underlines your voice. A groan slips past your lips and you shake your head in frustration. “I swear…you’ve been messing with me this whole time.”

With an amused chuckles, Satoru lifts his shoulders in a casual shrug.

“Hey, it’s more fun this way,” he leans in a little closer, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. “Besides,” he pauses, tilting his head just slightly while his lips curve into a sly grin. “I like watching you piece things together. You’ve got this cute little furrow in your brow when you’re thinking hard.”

The intensity in his eyes makes your breath hitch, and no matter how hard you resist, there’s that undeniable flutter in your chest, warm and unwanted.

“How come I’ve never seen you around?” you ask, trying to steer the conversation back onto safer ground.

“Oof. You’re killing me, y/n. I pass by you every day, actually.”

You frown, narrowing your eyes.

“Every day? Where?”

“The water fountain,” he says smoothly, tapping his fingers on the counter rhythmically, just a light touch. “Y’know, where you sit and study. Every afternoon, without fail. I walk by almost every day.”

Ah. That’s why his voice must’ve sounded familiar. You probably heard him—another voice blending into the background while you were studying.

“Really? Guess I never noticed you.”

Resting his chin in his hand, a dramatic huff falls from Satoru's lips as they form into a pout.

“Jeez…you don’t quit. I can’t believe I’m that forgettable.”

You can’t resist the soft laugh that escapes you, despite yourself—it’s hard not to find his antics at least a little amusing, and though you’d never admit it, the way he’s so desperate for your attention is almost… cute.

“Maybe you just blend into the background too much,” you shoot back, raising an eyebrow while extending your hand, silently gesturing for his payment.

“Ouch...” he winces dramatically, pulling out his card before placing it in your hand. “Okay, that one stung a little.”

“Yeah, well… I’m sure your ego will recover,” you quip, glancing up briefly before focusing back on the transaction. But there’s a brief pause as you swipe his card—a silence that suddenly feels charged with something else.

You can feel his gaze lingering on you, heavy and expectant, and you try your hardest not to give in to the pull to look at him again—but the heat of his attention is unmistakable, almost like a gravitational force pulling you in, and you can feel your pulse quicken under his scrutiny.

“I gotta say, you’ve got a sharp tongue—I like it,” he murmurs.

Your fingers freeze for just a second, your breath hitching slightly as his tone shifts, and you can’t resist—your eyes flick up and he holds your gaze captive yet again.

“But it’s a bad habit, y’know,” he continues, his voice dropping, growing more intent as his eyes flicker over your features. “Not being aware of your surroundings like that...” leaning in just a fraction, his words become a quiet murmur between the two of you. “What if some creep tried to take advantage of you?”

The gentleness in his demeanor… is he genuinely concerned? It’s hard to tell—harder than you’d like to admit—and it’s easier to convince yourself he isn’t—that this is all part of his charming routine, because that makes it easier to ignore the subtle pull he has on you.

“Well,” you keep your voice steady, despite the flutter in your chest, “lucky for me, no one’s tried. Unless…” tilting your head slightly, a teasing smirk tugs at your lips, “you’re secretly admitting to being a creep.”

Satoru’s laugh spills out, rich and warm, breaking the moment just enough for you to catch your breath.

“Nah, I’m not creep,” his voice lightens as he straightens up just a little. “Just a concerned citizen looking out for someone who’s too absorbed in her textbooks to notice the world around her.”

You huff, though the corners of your mouth twitch upward against your will.

“I can handle myself, thank you very much,” you quip back, determined to maintain control over the situation. In a quick, defiant motion, you grab the receipt and shove it into his hand, a small victorious gesture.

“Right, right. You definitely proved that today when I swooped in for the rescue,” he teases, and his hand brushes yours ever so briefly as he takes the receipt—a touch so light is sends a tiny spark up your arm. “But hey, what if you don’t show up at the fountain one day? I’m gonna have to file a missing person’s report.”

You can’t help but laugh at his ridiculousness, the sound escaping before you can stop it.

“A missing person’s report? Seriously?” you roll your eyes.

“Yup,” he grins, emphasizing the ‘p’. “You’re there so often it’s practically routine. Same spot. Same time. Every day. It’s kinda predictable, y/n. If I don’t see you there one day, I’ll just assume some creep finally got to you.”

You narrow your eyes at him, though you can’t help the faint heat rising in your cheeks.

“Predictable?” you retort, trying to sound indignant. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, you are,” he counters, clearly reveling in your reaction as he slips the receipt in his pocket. “But hey, that’s not a bad thing. It makes you easier to find if you ever disappear.”

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes, a snappy reply ready on your tongue, but he’s already raising his hands with a dramatic flair, like he’s about to paint the scene in vivid detail.

“I can see it now: ‘Missing: Cute girl who spends way too much time by the water fountain. Last seen buried in a psychology textbook. Answers to y/n.’”

It’s impossible not to laugh again, the sound bubbling up as you watch him weave his ridiculous scenario with such confidence and flair. His eyes flick to yours, and a satisfied grin tugs at the corner of his mouth—clearly pleased with the effect he’s having on you.

“Wow,” you manage between chuckles. “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”

“Mhm,” he hums in agreement, leaning slightly closer. “Gotta be prepared. I don’t want anything happening to my favorite water fountain girl.”

Your heart flips—and for a second, it feels like he’s given you some kind of title you didn’t realize you wanted. You try to brush it off, to ignore the warmth spreading across your cheeks, but it’s not so easy with the way he’s looking at you.

“Riiiight… well, lucky for you,” you manage, attempting to sound nonchalant, “I’m not planning on disappearing anytime soon.”

“Good,” he murmurs, low and smooth. “Because I’d miss seeing you.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep the upper hand, though the small smile that tugs at your lips betrays you.

“Uh-huh. Sure you would.”

There’s a brief moment, just the two of you—his gaze still locked onto yours, when—

“Ahem.”

You jump slightly at the sound, turning to see Utahime standing beside you, arms crossed, a knowing smile pulling at the corner of her lips. She gives you a look—a very knowing look—that sends heat rushing to your cheeks all over again.

“I’m taking my break,” she says, her tone casual but her eyes dancing with mischief as they flick between you and Satoru. “So… don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”

Suddenly hyper-aware of the tension in the air, you swallow hard and offer her a tight smile.

“No promises,” Satoru quips, that cocky grin returning to his face as he leans against the counter slightly—clearly unfazed by the interruption.

After Utahime saunters off, he continues smoothly, picking up right where he left off.

“So...” he starts again, “What do you say? How about you give me your number? Just in case I need it, y’know, for emergencies.”

He’s relentless, isn’t he?

Heat creeps up your neck as you blink from his boldness—with a soft, incredulous laugh, you desperately try to find your footing again.

“You really don’t give up, do you?”

That familiar and confident gleam glistens in his eyes as his grin widens.

“Not when it comes to someone as interesting as you.”

There’s a flicker of something in your chest—a flutter that you’re quick to squash.

“Mmm… sorry,” you murmur, tone sweet but firm. “But I don’t think you’re ready for that kind of disappointment. I’m really not interested in players.”

For the briefest moment, his grin falters, and something unreadable flashes behind his eyes—a momentary crack in his facade. It’s so quick, so subtle, that you almost miss it. But there’s just enough time to wonder if maybe you hit a nerve.

Still, Satoru recovers in an instant, his playful charm sliding back into place like nothing happened.

“That’s cold, y/n,” his voice light and teasing, though there’s a trace of something deeper, almost wounded, lurking beneath. “You really think I’m that kind of guy?”

Tilting your head slightly, you cross your arms over your chest as you study him—gaze sharp but not unkind.

“Yeah, well, I’ve met enough guys like you to know how this works.”

With a soft chuckle, and a smooth, almost lazy motion, he lowers his sunglasses from where they’re perched atop his head—resting them back on the bridge of his nose as the dark lenses now obscure his eyes from you.

He’s hiding behind them—letting them do the work of shielding his real thoughts. Huh. Typical behavior for someone who enjoys the chase but avoids real vulnerability.

“You’re quick to judge. I’m just a guy who knows what he wants. And right now? I just want your number.”

Classic deflection—you think. He’s not even denying it. Still... something about the way he says it makes that familiar flutter stir in your chest, and you hate it.

“Yeah... that’s not happening,” crossing your arms more tightly, you try to maintain control of the situation.

His hands come up in mock surrender as a small, amused sigh slips from his lips.

“Bummer,” he concedes, though there’s no real disappointment in his tone, only amusement. “But hey,” he picks up the drumsticks from the counter, “offer’s on the table if you ever change your mind.”

“Right... I’ll keep that in mind,” you dryly reply, knowing full well that you won’t.

“Please do,” he shoots back with that infuriatingly confident grin. “Besides, I’ll be seeing you around, water fountain girl.”

The familiar nickname brings an unwanted warmth that you attempt to shake off.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Gojo.”

But Satoru just steps back toward the door, exuding that same unshakeable confidence. “Oh, I’m not worried,” he says with a cocky smirk. “You’re predictable, remember? I know exactly where to find you.”

You open your mouth, ready to fire back with something witty, but before you can, he’s already halfway out the door, twirling the drumsticks between his fingers with effortless ease.

“See ya around, y/n,” he calls over his shoulder, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft jingle before you even have a chance to respond.

And just like that, the store feels quiet again, as if the air shifted back to normal now that he’s gone. You stand there for a moment, blinking at the closed door. You should feel relieved that he’s gone, that the exchange is over, but instead, you’re left with this strange, restless feeling you can’t quite shake.

What the hell just happened?

Shaking your head, you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. There’s a part of you that’s frustrated—frustrated at how easily he slipped under your skin, how effortlessly he managed to unsettle you with nothing but a grin and a few flirtatious remarks.

You hate that you’re even thinking about it. About him. He’s just another guy with too much confidence for his own good.

But something about the brief crack in his facade sticks with you. That fleeting moment where his grin faltered, and something else—something almost vulnerable—flickered behind those cocky blue eyes.

What was that?

With another shake of your head, you push the thought aside. He’s a flirt. A player. The kind of guy who never takes anything seriously.

That’s all there is to it.

You don’t have time to psychoanalyze every flippant guy who crosses your path, even if there’s a part of you that’s still curious.

Just as you’re about to shake off the thoughts entirely, your phone buzzes in your pocket, snapping you out of your daze. You pull it out, glancing down at the screen.

Kyoko: Hey sweetie, just wanted to let you know your mom's been having a rough day today. She’s more confused than usual, keeps asking for you. Maybe you could visit soon?”

Reality crashes back in—grounding you in the weight of your responsibilities.

With a sigh, you run a hand through your hair, already mentally preparing yourself for the evening ahead.

You: Thanks for the update, Aunt Kyoko. My shift is almost over, I’ll be home soon.

Focus. There’s no room for distractions—not right now.

Not with Satoru Gojo. Not with anyone.

a/n. thanks for reading the debut of bomh (or i guess the re-debut since this is a rewrite? hehe). i'm excited to explore a lot of topics in this fic, and rewriting it definitely helped rekindle my passion for this story. so, i'm looking forward with whats to come! hope ya'll enjoyed 💕 → you are currently all caught up ♪

taglist:

@gojoslefttoenail @satoryaa @ninjaturtletoes @murtabuckz @sorcerersseestars

@reagan707 @sakurasimppp @sugxryratz @tkyemfk @lovelyjkook

@lovebittenbyevans @kaemaybae @bloopsstuff

[inf3ct3dd]

ellie headcanons pt.3,,,!!

warnings: mentions of boobs, ass (lmao) , mild sexual content, use of the d-slur (jokingly)

content: loser!ellie x reader :3 my pookieeee

authors note: these r actually my favorite things to write ever like im so glad yall like them :333

pt. 2. taglist!!! masterlist!!!!

☆ REALLY likes beef jerky. she’ll just sit there and chew…

- her hands r just constantly freezing. like DEAD PERSON COLD ITS SCARYYYY!!! she definitely uses ur boobs as handwarmers and its JARRING because her hands are actually so cold 😞😞!!!

- HER FEET TOO!!! she has some sort of circulation issues bc you’ll be in bed together and she’ll put her feet on you and you’ll just turn into a cartoon ice cube 😕😕

- the SECOND u have some sort of drama she is seated. like she is so MESSY she will talk shit abt someone she knows absolutely nothing abt just bc u don’t like them. anyone you hate she hates 💪🏽💪🏽

- speaking of she is literally so sassy 😞😞 like she will literally full body turn away from you and look at the window while you drive if she’s mad at you.

- every time you say something even remotely sexual she’s looking at you like 🤨 and trying not to laugh. if you texted her “im coming” she’d burst out laughing and write back like “geez we’re just going to the zoo…didn’t know u were THAT excited”

- has the humor of a middle school boy. she has an actual problem w deez nuts jokes 😞😞 she thinks its SOOOO FUNNY to give u fake backshots whenever you bend over around her. fake moans and everything 💔💔

- a pharb AND a barb. she definitely knows all of super bass by heart, and she knows how to play savior complex on the guitar. duality of women!!!

- every time you say something nice to her she’s like “ew thats gay” and then she gets upset when u get upset for it 😞 so RUDE actually!!!

- really likes doing facemasks with you because you always put them on for her, and because you look really stupid with them on.

- this video. js this whole video like!!! she definitely has that dinosaur hand sanitizer AND that backpack!!

- likes rings cuz she thinks they make her look cool, but she literally cannot keep them for more than a month. they get lost SO EASILY!!!

- knows a concerning amount of things about the roman empire.

- definitely saw the barbie movie with you, and got so embarrassed at the ken guitar scene ☹️ “do i do that??” and you had to hold back laughter and tell her no

- if you have little siblings, they LOVE HER. she is so good with kids its insane. she would definitely do the griddy w ur little brother and you would NEVER let her live it down

- if you take her to a family gathering, she’s either talking with your uncles or hanging out with your younger cousins. she’s scared of your cousins your age bc they’re “cool like you”

- definitely bought you lego flowers at one point and sat on the floor and built them with you

- has those glow-in-the-dark stars on her bedroom ceiling

- would absolutely lick your salt lamp “for science”

- one time you put her hair in pigtails and she wore it the whole day, and refused to let her friends make fun of it cuz her “wife” did them

- talks about you like a 40 year old man talks about his wife. “gotta get home to the wife” definitely has “happy wife happy life!” on a tshirt

- built the two of you a house on minecraft and put your beds next to each otherrrr :((

- carved your name on her skateboard and guitar

- had an AWFUL emo phase in middle school. terrible. was absolutely an avid tumblr user

- such a nerd about vinyls. would take u on dates to her favorite vinyl store, and buy you a new vinyl player because “yours damages your vinyls, and the audio quality is shit” (you randomly bought it on amazon)

- just knows so many facts…about things…. like she’s always talking to you like “oh my god babe did you know that-“

- would get “jealous” of your pets whenever you’d pet them or hold them in front of her. just going up to your cat like “she likes me more than you”

- made herself one of those “i love my girlfriend” tshirts with your face on it

- your dad definitely loves her because they have so much in common. grilling, fishing,camping, she’s like the ultimate dad-dyke

- can fall asleep ANYWHERE. like the second she’s tired she’s just 😴😴 and she’s definitely using you as a pillow

- one time the two of you went to a family party and you found her asleep on two folded chairs

- you’re her wallpaper on all her devices.

- every time you ask her what she’s doing and she’s playing guitar shes like “just fingering my guitar”. she thinks its SOOOO HILARIOUS

- definitely says white ppl shit all the time on accident . one time she said “lets rock and roll” when you two were going somewhere and she literally didn’t talk for 5 minutes cuz you could not stop laughing

- LOVES burts bees !!! her lips always taste like their strawberry chapstick and its wonderful

- has a pair of lightning mcqueen crocs

- LOVESSSS when you paint her nails and do her makeup (she just likes you sitting on her lap)

- definitely one of those girls thats like. obsessed w doctor pepper. its a serious problem 😞😞!!!

- has a little shoe box full of receipts, polaroids of you, and little souvenirs from your dates. :((

- literally melts when you scratch her back

- very into horror games/analog horror. definitely binge watched markipliers “faith” gameplay and talked about it nonstop

- miles morales is def her fave superhero. has so many of his comics and LOVES the spiderverse movies. calls you her gwen 😞😞

taglist!!! if ur name is crossed i cant tag u :((

@syrenada @dinaissoprettyoml @kingofmylastkiss @as2rid @greencacty @melissabarrerass @bratydoll @lov3lylotus @forelliesposts @echostinn @f3r4lfr0gg3r @r3wbeef @leatheredhearts @mousymaven @mina-281 @princessguardian444 @calystas-morning-tea @horror-whoree @slutshies @bearieio @mag-mfm @bubs-world @paran0id0blivi0n @sawaagyapong @bbygrlshelbs @gayh0rr0r @pl9ys @ellieslilslvvt @dollietes @elliesmellsbadd @ibloom4u @ddreabea @beestar120 @brunettedolls-blog @girlwonderchloe @elliesgflol @maris-koffin @emonopolyman @iloveeyousblog @fr3sh-tragedies @ilovaffles @certifedcrybunny @elleatethat @baldph0bic @clouded-whispers @4rt3m1ss @saggykneecaps @swtsuna @ell1esslutt @minixmel @yuyans-stuff @owmoiralover @thecowardwrites @lunascerebro @elliestrwbrry @iwantsoda @teeveegirl @dinasmoon @urnewghostfriend

[kitkats-and-kittens]

I know Dc has always proclaimed Tim Drake as the best detective and the smartest Robin and he is. By conventional measurements he is the best detective and he’s very smart but I wish they would acknowledge that each Robin is incredibly smart in their own way.

Dick Grayson is a master manipulator. He’s a genius when it comes to reading people and honestly whenever I need to write young him in fanfiction I literally just do Missy for Sheldon.

He’s smart. Book smart, but also people smart and people need to acknowledge this more it pains me to see DC forget this in exchange for a far more fannon. Far less complex version of him. He’s smart! Let him be smart.

Jason Todd is also book smart, though less mathematics and science and more classical literature. That man knows his way around the collections of Fyodor Dostoyevsky and that’s not even mentioning his street smarts.

He may not be the best conventional detective but he knows how to distinguish different gangs and their territories. He knows where dealers like to run their shops and he knows when a crime is too messy to have been caused by any of the rogues in the area.

Stephanie of course is a mix of the two. She’s good with people and she’s good on the streets but she’s also for very obvious reasons amazing at puzzles. Any tricky, seemingly impossible sort of quiz she’s got it, which is especially useful when the criminals of Gotham enjoy sending their hero’s on a wild goose chase.

She’s incredibly good at seeing through riddles and word vomit and she’s an amazing detective in her own right which should be used more.

Cass has been proven to be a great detective on so many occasions and of course do we even have to mention how adept she is at reading body language?

Her knowledge of combat is obviously unmatched and I’d love to see comics take this and apply it to her detective skills. How cool would it be for her to analyse a corpse and tell the fighting style of the assailant just by noting where on the body the strikes landed?

Realistic? No, but this is comics. Let me have my fun.

Damian was obviously trained in a dozen forms of martial arts, but he’s obviously knowledgeable about other things. The LoA are eco terrorists. You’re telling me that kid doesn’t know plants?

And that’s not even mentioning his knowledge of weapons and how he knows the ins and outs of organised crimes after living surrounded by it for a decade.

Plus his undercover skills.

Duke is new to me so I don’t know as much about him, but like Jason and Steph he grew up in the narrows and was part of gang, plus he apparently survived the riddler at like age 7 (pls don’t quote me on this I know practically nothing about zero year). So I can assume he’s incredibly intelligent. Street smarts! Also his powers let him look into the past which as evidenced in WFA can be used to help solve crimes.

Like I don’t want them to be conventional detectives. Let Tim be the Sherlock Holmes of the family. He’s already shown to be very observant.

I want to see more of the batfam using their own unique skill sets to solve crimes. They’re all good detectives they just have different ways of solving crimes.

Pls Dc, they would look so cool. If WFA can do it so can you! 😭😭

[buried-l0cket]

Polygun but it’s how they all see each other

i always really like in books with different narrators when how a character looks itself is unreliable narration bc they describe themself differently compared to how the other pov characters see them, and the dungeon meshi shapeshifter chart scratched that itch for me art wise and I got inspired ✨

To be more specific this is what they each picture when they think of each person 👉👈

Details under cut!!

Meryl clothing details aside because I think she’s just short and the boys aren’t looking at her traveling clothes too hard (and vash clearly likes making his own clothes with how much his overly intricate jacket design changes so ofc his version of her outfit just looks like another one of his designs 🙄) all of the clothes are based on specific parts of the manga!

A big thing with these designs was taking moments that were important regarding each characters relationship with the pov character and adding in visual nods to that to show what memories stuck with them to shape their image of that person.

The clearest example of this is everyone thinking of a different Vash coat, for Wolfwood it’s what he was wearing when he turned him over to Knives, to Meryl it’s his final fight coat, and for Milly it’s when she met him.

It may be Trimax but I will always have a soft spot for 98 millywood so those two’s impression of each other has been influenced by that, but more specifically just the idea of them both alone together, layers and walls down, hair messy from sleep. Their relationship is one I just see very clearly developing over a lot of late nights at inns and bars during traveling!

Vash is the trademarked inventor of Savior Martyr Victim complex supreme and when he thinks of everyone he sees times they’ve been let down by him. To me he’s the biggest broken gear in their dynamic because of the way he holds himself back and isolates, the ship really works in spite of him most of the time. But he also sees traces of times his desire to be by their side was cemented. His Meryl is heavily based on after she was kidnapped by the GHGs and he lost control in front of her, but her hair is longer + earrings are gone like when they saw each other again after Knives released the ark, and she has a black turtleneck peaking out from under her traveling clothes the way it did under her space suit during the final battle. His Milly has the hair and undershirt of the final battle but her outer clothes are from when they traveled together for the majority of Trimax. His wolfwood isn’t doing too well.

Meryl’s versions of Milly and Wolfwood are both pretty similar to how they looked when she first met them, wolfwoods hair is just a little longer like I imagine it being towards the end of Trimax and is very windswept, from their short first meeting in the original Trigun manga run I always got the impression she thought he looked very cool lol, she was staring up at him like ://0 the whole chapter.

I mentioned it before but honestly most of Wolfwood’s Vash is based on how he looked when he turned him over to Knives, not only do I think that moment stuck with him but I feel like it’s a good visual summary of all the mixed feelings he has towards Vash. He’s drawn to him and sees how sad he his but he also sees how inhuman he is and the threat he and knives pose for the people he cares about and prioritizes. At the end of the day Wolfwood chose the orphans over Vash twice and never went back on that, and a big part of why he broke Vash our of Knives prison was just so he could go fight Knives to the death for humanity’s sake, and I think that’s important to his character and their relationship.

Similarly, Meryl’s Vash is really just final arc Vash. She’d already developed a very strong impression of him before then but they would go weeks to even years without seeing each other and each time the way he looked and the way she felt about him would change drastically, it seemed to me like it wasn’t till she was on the ship advocating for him and the people living on gunsmoke that she knew how she felt about him and what kind of person she saw him to be. It was also a huge moment for her character wise with the way she faced her fears in the name of human connection and made the active choice to not be as apathetic and closed off as she realized she had been in the early manga.

I think Milly’s first impression of Vash was strong and accurate enough to not change much, this nice guy is Vash the Stampede and there is definitely something weird about him.

I don’t know why Wolfwood doesn’t know what Meryl’s hair looks like, what’s wrong with that guy? In general his version of Meryl is very inaccurate now that I’m looking at it, I promise he likes her

+small details that are my personal headcanon and not the characters interpretations are Meryl and Wolfwoods hair being a bit more curly/textured than canon, Milly’s eyes being green, and Meryl’s earrings being silver (gold earrings with a white black and blue outfit and silver guns?? C’mon girl accessorize properly)

[absurdthirst]

Do you think you could do one with the Pedro boys who are a/b/o and who have a omega reader in heat but she doesn't want to spend it with them but just be alone? If not that's totally cool and I love your writing:)

When You're In Heat & Want Nothing To Do With Him:

*** When reblogging or talking about Omegaverse, please remember that ‘a/b/o’ without the slash punctuation marks (/) is considered a slur for the Aboriginal people in Australia.

**Female Reader

Javier Peña: Pouty for sure. He had even told Steve he was taking off work, dreaming of having you on his cock the entire time. Now his ass is traveling back to Medellín with Murphy in the passenger seat. Deciding that getting out of town was the best option.

Ezra: Now that's just not going to work for him, little bird. The aphrodisiac that your body produces calls to him like a siren. Beckoning him to take what your very nature wishes to give him. In that tent, there's no privacy. While Ezra might not lay a hand on you, he will not shut up about what he would do if you would give him permission.

The Mandalorian: Takes the kid, engages the ground security protocols on the Razor Crest and leaves. He will be back in 3-5 business days, with multiple bounties to throw into carbonite and then takes off for the next world on his parsec tour. He doesn't even seem mad about it, it just is what it is.

Pero Tovar: He still expects you to ride your horse. If you aren't needing to be holed up in a nest with his body wedged between your thighs, then you must be moving. He cannot lose more time on this journey to the East and you are attracting more alphas that he will just have to kill.

Frankie Morales: Confused. Wondering if everything that has happened has made you think that he's no longer your alpha or maybe not the alpha you want. He wants to talk to you about it, but he knows that you are vulnerable right now, so he packs up the kids and they all go stay at Uncle Benny's for a few days so you can be alone like you want.

Marcus Pike: He's disappointed. He had everything planned. He was going to make sure that your every need was met and you were in as little pain as possible as you worked through you heat. Instead of being able to do it in person, he decides that it might be best to sleep at the office until it passes so he doesn't overstep. However, he has meals delivered to you and your favorite ones at that.

Max Phillips: Tilts his head at you and gives you that fake pouty look. The one that says he doesn't believe you for a second. You don't want orgasm after orgasm? That's strange, and people said he's the one without a beating heart.

Dave York: Angry. He is not happy that you want nothing to do with him. He needs to take care of you and you are denying him that. In a huff, he takes on a target and takes his aggression out on them. It's a little more messy than his normal jobs.

Oberyn Martell: Finds it fascinating. You are a mystery. An omega who doesn't wish to be cared for by an alpha. He sighs, thinking that it's a pity, it would have been fun, but he leaves you in peace. He will spent the time in the whorehouse, drinking and fucking while you have your wish.

Zach Wellison: It hurts. It makes him think that he's not good enough and it will definitely tap into that inferiority complex that he had. But he will give you what you want, you won't see him for days while you are going through your heat.

Marcus Moreno: Doesn't understand it, but that's not for him to decide. If you don't want him around, he needs to figure out a game plan. Do you want to stay somewhere else? Do you want him and Missy to go to his moms? Once you tell him exactly what you want, he's doing that and nothing more.

Max Lord: You were in heat? He didn't even notice. He was too busy trying to save his company.

Javi Gutierrez: Heartbroken that he cannot take care of you himself. He wants to pamper you and comfort you. Instead, he sends you to one of the best resorts for Omegas who wish to ride out a heat without an Alpha. Leaving them to pamper you.

Dieter Bravo: Whiny. He can smell how horny you are. How can you not want him to fuck you? Keep you full of his cock and cum? Aren't you about to tear your skin off???? You actually have to throw him out of the damn house in order to have a moment's peace.

Tim Rockford: Honestly? That's a relief. He's got this case that is eating up the hours and he doesn't have time to focus on you. He ends up sleeping at the office for two weeks straight and you have to call him to come home.

Joel Miller: He thinks you're stupid. He knows you will suffer more, but if that's what you want, be stubborn. He will give you the space you need, but he will also be standing guard around the decrepit house you are holed up in, making sure that no other alpha gets a whiff of you.

Marcus Acacius: Doesn't understand why you would not want him to be around you. But he's not going to fight you on this. He has his most trusted guards posted around his villa, they are betas so you will not be harassed by them. They will protect you because he has already been called before the emperors to discuss yet another bloody campaign on behalf of Rome's glory.

[neyafromfrance95]

Galadriel and Sauron mind connection was created by Tolkien himself, it’s part of the lore. Galadriel can see into Sauron’s mind, and he would as well if she hadn’t block him. Actually, I’m old enough to recall when the “Fellowship of the Ring” came out in 2001 (I was like 9 or 10 years old), and when I first watched it I was actually terrified of Galadriel and even thought, at first, she was Sauron’s ally or something, because there seemed to be a connection between the two. Hence the ridiculousness of the “Virgin Mary” stuff because I didn’t get that vibe from Galadriel at all, when I first watched LOTR. She seemed pretty dark and haunting to me. So seeing this unfold in RoP is pretty cool.

exactly!

i never got the virgin mary vibe from galadriel either. she didn't have a nurturing softness of a traditional womanhood that the incelbros insist she MUST embody, she had a calm confidence and might of a very powerful political player.

and she was so different from the other elves and "good guys" when it came to the whole sauron thing. why you know so much about him? what do you mean he gropes for you like an obsessive lunatic ex? lol. what do you mean you have a kingdom and a family but still feel alone and tempted for something else?

and as i've said, it's interesting that celeborn & celebrian are mostly a npc detail needed to get arwen (who also was ready to risk it all for a hot man, the grandma influence) and don't have much impact on her journey. it seems like she'd rather hang out with gandalf, lol (rip sauron with all galadriel's sidepieces).

it ofc can be explained by her main prerogative being a thirst for power (and tolkien not wanting to "tradwife-ize" her), but with trop context, her desire for power is intrinsically connected to sauron's promise to bind her to power!

and man i love that for her, she is such a messy, flawed and complex female character, it's so very rare in this genre! trop created a perfect young galadriel and gave her relationship with sauron a perfect spin.

it's so telling how the incelbros would rather galadriel be a waifu material with a power of *checks the notes* divine feminine, than be this fascinating protagonist. like, yes, she is amazonian, she is "guy-ladriel"! or did you forget how she was referred to as a "man-maiden"? her being an ambitious brat, a commander who wants to lead, and having an intimately complicated relationship with sauron is canon-compliant!

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

Why do you think the tides have slightly turned from "Elia deserves better than Rhaegar" to shipping her and Rhaegar together? Like what is the psychology behind these people because I've seen some of them like/reblog anti Rhaegar posts while also shipping Rhaegar x Elia at the same time.

hey anon! my thoughts are a bit messy, but i’ve done my best to explain them coherently :)

so, rhaegar was the best man anyone could have when elia was alive, and most people want the best for their favs. he was considered the most handsome, didn’t have a bad personality, and he was crown prince—meaning elia was almost queen, which is often seen as the greatest role a woman can have. the narrative also treats rhaegar as a beautiful, tragic, haunting figure, and elia actually had this very aesthetically pleasing man all to herself at one point! she was married to him, had children with him, and her life was so close to perfect! but rhaegar just had to go and ruin it. 😠

for many elia stans, if rhaegar hadn’t fallen in love with another woman (they want him to have been a completely different character), then everything would’ve been perfect, and elia would’ve had the best, most desirable life. however, that’s not what happened—elia met a very tragic end, and as a result, these stans feel double the bitterness. because of this bitterness, they blame rhaegar for everything (even though it’s not logical to do so), but he’s just too ‘perfect’ to let go of. so, for years these stans have made rhaegar revolve around elia, filling his tag with posts about her out of bitterness. so, i do believe that this obsession with rhaegar x elia has always been there, but i think it’s become a more favorable stance on the elia stan side of the fandom because of a mix of reasons.

plus, rhaegar is one of the few canon relationships we know elia had, since she’s not much of a character. because of this, and the fact that most people don’t like to stray too far from canon, most elia stans are forced to focus on rhaegar, which has created an echo chamber. basically, if a sentiment about elia and rhaegar’s relationship becomes popular, then the whole elia stan side of the fandom will likely regurgitate the sentiment. (also, this desire to stick close to canon is likely why the elia x arthur ship was so popular. while it’s a total crack ship, it had good aesthetics, and since elia and arthur at least knew each other, it allowed the stans to create their perfect fanfiction whilst sticking it to rhaegar. but remember, elia was actually married to rhaegar and had children with him, so while arthur is cool, rhaegar was always ‘top dog,’ meaning arthur would never be able to match up to rhaegar to most elia stans. also, the arthur x elia crack ship is likely her second most popular ship, which just shows how little elia stans have to work with, so they’re always forced to eventually return back to rhaegar for a lot of things.)

however, even if the elia x rhaegar ship gains more popularity, these stans will never stop hating rhaegar because he wasn’t ‘perfect’—and he wasn’t perfect because he didn’t love elia. plus, rhaegar loving another woman and supposedly kidnapping her is what began the war that led to elia’s tragic death. that’s bitterness times 1000. and while i don’t actually blame rhaegar for the war, i do think that this is how an elia stan sees it. i also don’t view rhaegar’s complex relationship with elia as a bad thing—it’s actually a very realistic take on an arranged marriage between two decent people. but most elia stans will never be able to get over the fact that they almost had everything, which is why many have it out for lyanna, as they consider her a thief who ruined their ‘perfection.’

tbh, that might be why so many elia stans are so obsessed with the idea that rhaegar only got with lyanna because of the prophecy—they don’t want to believe that rhaegar actually loved a different woman and not their perfect self insert elia. that’s a bit mean of me… but i don’t know what else one would call the ‘elia’ elia stans have created.

now that i’ve laid all those thoughts out, i’ll try to explain why the tides seem to be turning… i think it may have something to do with the ‘targaryens are all evil and bad’ sentiment losing popularity. i think this shift has occurred due to a mix of factors, such as years of fandom fights and fandom cycles leading to the targs being more liked now than before. it helps that canon doesn’t actually condemn the targs/favors them quite a bit, and the influx of new targ fans from HOTD has also contributed. this combination of reasons seems to have shifted the way the mainstream fandom discusses all the targaryen characters, including rhaegar. so, with this shift, it’s only natural that some elia stans/elia x rhaegar shippers—who’ve always been there—are using this opportunity to push their agenda. while these stans still hate rhaegar and see him as the bad guy, they just can’t let go of him. and as the mainstream fandom moves away from the anti targaryen sentiment, these smaller corners of the fandom, which tend to be echo chambers, are also affected, which has therefore led to a rise in rhaegar x elia shippers and the ‘shifting tide’ that you’ve also noticed.

[unaside]

best friend i hate when people try to criminalize fitz to make other characters the victim in every situation. it’s so annoying. like he’s such a good character and barely anybody actually sees what a complex person he is. we think there’s nothing wrong going on in the vacker family? seriously? i mean if biana felt invisible and ignored her entire life and alvar joined the fucking neverseen there must have been something that was happening. you cant tell me they were just like that. the plot twist of alvars betrayal was actually so shocking because, like, you would have had no fucking idea. he must have been a good person, but he could have just snapped. biana wants to create her own legacy. she wants to break rules. she wants to tear away from the norms. idk where this is going i’m just rambling about random stuff at this point. but BIANA FEELING INVISIBLE HER WHOLE LIFE THEN MANIFESTING AS A VANISHER IS SO IMPORTANT TO ME. alvar and biana escaped. for better or for worse. fitz cant. and omg i fucking hate when people get mad at fitz for ending things with sophie after the matchmaking thing. he literally said and i quote, “i would never hear the end of it. my parents and sister would never hear the end of it. and i don’t think i could deal with that.” FUCKING GOD. GOD FORBID A TRAUMATIZED TEENAGE BOY DOESNT WANT TO DISAPPOINT HIS ENTIRE FAMILY. FUCKING HELL. fitz cant escape from whatever fucking legacy he’s in. he’s stuck there. he always has been and he always will be. he’s the perfect child. the golden child. the favorite child. i swear i should start counting how many times he’s been called perfect. he’s been put on a pedestal his entire fucking life and the second he tries dipping a toe in the water below he gets attacked. there’s nothing he can do but stay. he’s not allowed to be anything but perfect. he can’t stray from that. he’s been at it his entire life. HES NOT ALLOWED TO BE ANYTHING BUT PERFECT. and now here’s the part where i get talk about keefe. don’t worry guys he’s a cool guy i just don’t rlly like him😔 keefe is allowed to be imperfect. he’s allowed to be messy. fitz isn’t. i know it hurts him whenever someone(mostly keefe) makes a comment on him or his family being perfect, when they’re anything but. but he tries and tries and tries. he can’t be imperfect, but he can’t be too perfect. there’s nothing he can do. he’s put under all this pressure at a very young age and he’s expected to succeed at everything. and it makes me mad that keefe is so ignorant about it. he makes jokes and i know that he knows it hurts fitz. he’s literally an empath. bye i’m not taking any criticism 🙏

(i found this in my notes and i genuinely can’t remember when i wrote this help)

[juneknight]

Giving Thanks

Cute little Thanksgiving themed blurb featuring DRM for the girlies in the roleplay discord and A most of all.

About this: Marc spending Thanksgiving alone in the dorms? Not on your watch.

Immersivity: Reader is AFAB though physically undescribed and unnamed. She does attend college and does have a family which celebrates Thanksgiving in typical American fashion.

*

You’re not supposed to be here. 

Using your badge to get into the dorms is easy. Catching Marc when he is in the dorm room is harder. He was prone to melancholy, and his melancholy made him prone to wandering: the university pathways between buildings, the library, the baseball field. Before he had moved into  your dorm room, he was almost never at his own. 

Though you had invited (begged) him to come home with you for Thanksgiving, he had insisted on staying behind at the dorms. You knew his home life was complicated, his emotional connection to the word ‘family’ just as complex, so you hadn’t pushed him, even if leaving him alone during a holiday was painful. 

Staring at the mountains of leftovers your family always left behind after Thanksgiving lunch, you had decided on the spur of the moment that there was no way you were going to let Marc spend this day alone. Taking two disposable muffin tins, you had piled them both full of different foods, creating a classic American Thanksgiving smorgasbord: turkey, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, pumpkin pie, fresh whipped cream and more. 

Technically, you weren’t supposed to be in the dorms—not after you had signed your waiver stating you would be away for the holidays–but fuck, it would be worth it to see Marc’s face. It would be worth it to see him, to wrap your arms around him in a hug, to see him light up the way he always seemed to when you were around—

“What are you doing here?” 

You whirl around, nearly upending the muffin tins when Marc’s voice calls out from behind you just outside your dorm room door. He’s wearing his winter coat, the thick boots that keep his feet warm while he stomps his way across the cold pavement. A beanie is tugged low over his head, curls peeking out against his forehead and ears. His cheeks are flushed a little beneath his typical tan skin. 

“Have you been following me?” you ask. 

“Ever since you got out of your car. I was just coming back from the library and I saw you, you little sneak.” 

“Happy Thanksgiving!” you blurt out, holding out the muffin tins. His eyes fall to them, and something in his gaze goes warm. 

“You…brought me lunch,” he says. 

*

You end up as lunch.

The muffin tins and their contents are growing cool while Marc spreads you out on the table with the mismatched chairs (half yours and half his own, like a little blended family that you had joint custody of). He peels off your boots and socks and pulls down your leggings, spreading your thighs out as wide as your body allows, til your pussy is exposed to the cool air of the dorm. 

Then he eats you—and Marc is a messy eater. He eats your pussy without any sense of shame, no embarrassment at the sounds his mouth makes (nor any cruel amusement in the sounds your own body makes) as he works you over with lips, tongue, and teeth. Sweet Marc always starts with his lips: pecks against your thighs and vulva that turn into wet, sucking kisses, his tongue slipping between your folds and pressing in deep against your entrance like you’re leaking honey and not just slick. His smooth jaw works against you, stimulating your sensitive sex while he latches his lips over your clit and sucks, soft and sweet. It is all remarkably rushed for the likes of Marc (who usually drags sex out into a marathon-performance instead of a sprint), but you hardly mind when your muscles tense, thighs shaking from how far apart they are spread as you soak his face and the table with your orgasm. 

“Oh my god,” you slur, trembling like a leaf. You can’t stop shaking as he stands, his hands falling to his belt. The soft clink as he undoes it instills a Pavlovian response in you, and even though you have just cum, you ache with emptiness. 

“Want to fuck you,” he mutters, jaw still wet with your slick. “Can I?” 

“God, yes.” 

“Hold yourself open.” 

You reach down and spread the lips of your pussy open, watching with a watering mouth as he works his pants and underwear down just beneath his cock. Fuck, his boots are still on. Why is that so sexy? 

With his hands on your thighs, he drags you to the edge of the table. Marc leans over you, cock nudging at your entrance when he plants his palms on the oak. He watches your expression as the fat head of him splits you open. He likes to see the way your mouth goes slack, your eyes roll back, your nails scramble for purchase against the smooth wood. 

“So good to me, bringing me food,” he mutters, curls brushing your forehead when he leans down to kiss you. “Bringing me this pretty pussy. How’d you know I was hungry? How’d you know how bad I missed you?”  

“It’s–It’s–Th-Th-Thanksgiv—oh my fucking god, don’t stop, don’t stop.” You dissolve, the subtle height the table provides you pressing him against all your most sensitive spots. At the apex of each thrust, his pubic bone grinds against your clit, still buzzing from his tongue. 

“This is me giving thanks,” Marc says, laughing breathily at his own joke, each word punctuated by a thrust that you feel all the way in your guts.

[fanficwriterlover]

My Choice Our Consequence

Chapter 2 (Part 2) Big News to All

Summary: You called your friend Gaz, and want to catch up with him and obviously explain your absence, maybe even hear how the other members of the taskforce are doing. You miss them, but you're adjusting to the life of being pregnant...it's just the weight of your child (besides heaviness) father lingers in the back of your mind...how will you ever tell Ghost ?

Expectations: Mentions of SA, Assault, Cursing, Victimizing, Narcissistic behavior, manipulation, Stalking, Smoking, Drinking, etc..(Let me know if I miss anything)

Call Sign: Hera or Lil Light

Word Count : 4.3k (Sorry it's short gotta keep a good cliffhanger)

A03 Version

Your Home at 10:00 AM

Gaz now stands in front of your door, he had showered, dressed in his civilian clothes and ran to grab your favorite pastry; scones. He wasn’t sure what to expect behind the door, in fact he was terrified, he was scared to see your light diminishing due to depression or maybe an illness. It was something he always loved about you. You lit up the room. It was something Soap and him always brought up how it seemed to brighten whenever you enter. You left a hole in the taskforce and everyone knew it. Reluctantly he raised his fist and gently knocked on the door. Shifting his weight on his feet, he took in the smells from outside, it was a cozy complex for sure. You obviously made more money than him. He then heard the doorknob began to rattle snapping his attention to the door where he saw YOU standing there.

He must’ve been holding his breath, because when he release the cool air of the fall autumn took it away. There you were standing with the door cracked peeking your head out. You haven’t changed. The smile adorning your face made him want to melt, you still were just as bright from the last time he saw you. Yet you looked different…almost mature different. You were wearing a black button accent, with long sleeve. It looked almost like a dress but stopped short of your thighs, where it was covered by some jeans that snug nicely. And a cute black slip on van shoes. Seeing you in civilian clothes was different, however, it suited you. You hair was done up in a messy bun, with strands coming down the sides of your forehead and cheek. You were still stunning.

“Gaz !” you say softly yet excited. “Hey doll, wow so this where you been hiding. You’re not even far from our base !” he huffs in disbelief, to think it probably wouldn’t have taken long to run into you from the base yet here you were. When you opened the door wider you encouraged him to come in which he did. For the life of him he couldn’t see what could possibly be wrong with you to resign from the taskforce, you seemed perfectly healthy and well normal, so why ? “Gaz is that…” he stood there confused as he waited for you to finish your sentence. “Is that scones I smell ? “ your eyes widen with glee, as he then remembers he collected you some that were in his arms. He chuckles “Yeah, I come bearing gifts.” You laugh softly encouraging him in “Come in” he steps through the door as you take the scones from him, walking into the kitchen. Your place is definitely more cozier than he anticipated, it also seemed well….tidy. But something else about it that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Stepping into the living room, the couch was facing where the tv was, with a fire place in the corner that was lit, it kept the room warm even though the house itself seemed well insulated. There were pictures of you adorning the mantle over the fireplace, with a women, your mother from the looks of it. She looked like you. You shouted from the kitchen “Earl grey tea I take ? “ he responds back loud enough for you to hear, “You remember well y/n” he laughs softly taking in the room. Before hearing your steps walk back into the room. You outstretch your hand to give his cup, which he takes. After which you began to sit down onto the couch, a bit carefully too he noticed. Odd.  Seemed like you were physically struggling to sit, yet walked fine. “Come sit Gaz, I can see questions running through your forehead” you snort at this then began blowing into your cup, with the steam blowing in front of your face. He chuckles at that. “Quit bloody reading me yeah ?” he takes his seat on the other end of the couch from you holding the cup.

Your POV

For a while the silence and the acknowledging each other’s presence was nice. It was hard to believe he was in your living room. You missed him. You missed all the lads of 141. Yet you knew he had questions especially your reason for disappearing. You set your cup down, onto the coffee table that was a bit more pushed away than needed “I know you’re wondering why I resigned…and why I didn’t say goodbye.” You say this with your gaze away from him, your knees tucked under you as you had your elbow on the back of the couch, your hand holding your head.

Sleeping has become a bit of a challenge for your but obviously Gaz was unaware of your current predicament. You purposely picked this top to hide your bump, not in shame, okay maybe a little but not the reason of choice. No just to not rush to the topic immediately when you greeted him at the door. He seems to look at you from the side where he was seated on the couch, almost seeming to be curious what the answer is. You sigh softly, here goes nothing… “I left because I found out I was pregnant Gaz.” His eye blow wide open nearly sputtering his tea, but instead chokes it down as you pat him on the back. He waves his hand vigorously almost ensuring you he’s fine. When he clears his throat after his heaving stopped,  “You wha’” his eyes immediately follow where your hand placement moves to. You show the curve of your bump. Your black top hid it perfectly, that smoothing it down more only made the bump more pronounced.

Gaz POV

The moment you smoothed down your top, his eyes went wide. You had a protruding belly and how the hell did he not notice it. You barely changed. But that explains a LOT. The place was so tidy and everything seemed harmless. It was because the place was practically baby proofed. The edges of the tables were rounded. The fireplace had a gate pushed away so no toddler could touch the heated grates. Everything was made safe for a baby to be welcomed into the place. Also the soft carpets adorning the living room, dining, and he’s certain other places of the home were made to ensure the baby wouldn’t crawl on hard wooded flooring. Every little detail Gaz began to understand why the place was done such. His mind was now settling with this revelation but now “I see now…well, wow congratulations.” He laughs out softly leaning forward hugging you gently, making sure to avoid your bump and not squeeze you hard. “Thank you Gaz…it’s something. Adjusting to sleeping is harder than I thought. No one warned me about the need to use the lute more though.” You laugh a bit now rubbing your stomach in a soothing habit. He watches you intently, you seemed happy with this so it made him happy for you but “Whose the dad ? If you resigned then…does that mean it was someone from base?” He cocks his brow at you, which you were blushing heavily biting your lip “Oh yeah..that so happens to be…Lieutenant Ghost..”Your eyes avoid his when you mumbled the last words lowly and quickly through gritted teeth. Yet, Gaz was frowning trying to figure out if he heard you right. “Um..I’m sorry did you just say Lt ?” he surely heard you wrong…surely ? But you seemed to play with your hair now shifting a bit in your spot as his eyes shot wide “Lt ?! The Ghost ?!” You blush more “Shout a little louder would you…I don’t think he heard you from the base” you snort as Gaz looks at you directly. “Bloody hell Hera…” he shakes his head “I don’t even want to know when and where but damn…” he huffs looking at you “Does he know ?”  tilting his head leaning forward with his elbows on his knees “Mmm…no…” Wow…he was stunned. He was expecting anyone anyone…but the Lieutenant ? Why didn’t you tell the Lt, about his soon to be kid ? Why did you leave without an explanation or bye ? More questions seem to run through his mind but seeing you rub your belly tenderly, you seemed content “Well…wow…you ever plan to tell him ?” you keep stroking your stomach, he was beginning to catch on that it was to calm you not the baby as you sigh softly before answering “I do…just I don’t know how to go about it you know ? It’s scary...we are talking about Ghost here.” Gaz nods his head slowly. Well he found it more hard to believe you even slept with him since you're heavily pregnant so obviously he must’ve been gentle enough unless…”He didn’t…um...” your eyes widen shaking your head “Oh gods no ! Ghost and I…well we both consented. Just didn’t plan this.” You point at your stomach indicating this wasn’t a part of it as he nods his head. He decided this topic wasn’t going to make it better and decided to change the subject. “Do you knoew if it’s a girl or boy yet ?” you seem to be grateful for the change in subject smiling softly “Yeah…it’s a boy.” Your eyes seem to soften, seems like the idea of a little boy running around melted you. He was happy for you. “Wow…a little Ghost. So if he doesn’t get your looks I’ll know what Ghost looks like.” He smirks at his joke as you playfully punch him in the arm, laughing. “Oh shut up !” the two of you seem to drift into more lighter topics.

Gaz enjoyed hearing about your ultrasound visits, your lifestyle, and excitement to be a mom. You even gave him a picture of the recent ultrasound that was the day it confirmed your son’s gender. Even now the baby was in almost full form, it was amazing to think you would be birthing a little bundle into this earth and you were leaving the harsh lifestyle of the dark world. It was always something you guys would talk about whether you all would ever have a life outside the military or even settle down and start a family. Looking at Price it seemed like they all would be going down that road of never ending fighting. But seeing you, actually living a mundane life. He envied you, yet he wasn’t ready to stop fighting. There was much to get done and with the Intel his team were gathering he sure as hell wasn’t ready to stop fighting.

Eventually it became late, he needed to get back to base, which you understood, you had made him a hearty meal and the two of you simply enjoyed catching up. Of course you didn’t pry into his mission only asking about his improvements and asking about everyone else. Yet even as he stands outside your door you give him one final hug as he smiles “Keep in contact aight ? No going off the radar doll. I want to see my godson too” He laughs softly as you smile at him “Got yourself a deal Kyle. Be safe out there. Keep fighting the good fight.” You nod your head at him as he smiles “Yes ma’am” with that he makes his way to his car, getting in and driving off. Except what you didn’t know was Gaz was going back to the old base where he knew Soap would be returning as well as Price. He had already sent messages to both Soap and Price wondering if they were headed to base which they both replied yes, to which Gaz was going to share the news of you to them. And hopefully find Ghost too.

Pulling up into based, and getting approved after showing his ID, Gaz parks his car in the garage getting out as he makes his way to the lounge room. It’s been a while since he been here but he was happy to be reuniting with the gang. As he glances down at his phone that was buzzing in his pocket he wasn’t aware of anyone until he heard a loud familiar Scottish voice “Aye ! Gaz ! You bloody arse the fuck you been lad ?” He was striding towards him as Gaz snorts. They bump fists then clasping and bringing it into the chest to pat each other’s back. “Good seeing you too mate. Price here ?” With that he hears the all so familiar Liverpool accent echo through the garage “Was wondering when you turn up son.” Gaz smiles as Soap steps back, with Price taking out his hand to shake “Good seeing you too Cap, glad the gangs all here.” He pats his shoulder as the three men make their way to the lounge.

Once they settle Gaz, Soap, and Price had been drinking already, Ghost hadn't shown up yet. The three were already catching up by the time Ghost show up, with that Gaz and Soap were already drunk with Price taking slower sips from his bourbon. Ghost takes in the sight of the gang all together simply silently seating himself into a chair, sitting down with his arms crossed listening to both of them ramble through a drunken state. However, things seem to escalate quickly when Gaz speaks loudly “Oh yeah ! I saw Hera today !” he smiles giddily. With that the room becomes deadly silent. Price seems surprised by this, Soap is utterly shocked, and Ghost well, he was just as both but did better at hiding it. Remaining unmoved as Soap spoke up “What ?! Bonnie alive ?! Why wasn’t invited ! How is the lass ?” he seemed eager to know setting his bottle of beer down to hear. Price simply takes a drag from one of his cigars listening intently “She’s good. She actually the one to reach out to me and invite me over. Her place is cozy.” He smiles proudly, obviously in his drunken state to admit he seen your home.

Ghost POV

This makes Ghost squint his eyes hearing that Gaz was able to know where you live. When he gets the chance he plans to get the address from him soon. He wants to know where you are.  Maybe convince you to return. Yet, Gaz continues, “Oh yeah, and she’s expecting soon! Almost forgot. She sent me home with the ultrasound of my godson.”  Ghost head nearly whips in his direction, as he happened to have been looking elsewhere for a brief moment before hearing this revelation. His eyes nearly widen by this news. The first time he breaks the silence “What.” He sounded angry which made everyone look in his direction but he remained neutral not daring to show his anger. Yet, he couldn’t help but notice a hint of Price’s features shift. Gaz continues as he fumbles into his pocket pulling out the picture handling it to Soap who sat closest to him “Oh shit ! Look at that bugger ! Wow didn’t think she’d settle down. How far along is she anyways ?” You’re pregnant…so…did that mean you resigned to live a more mundane life ? No impossible you wouldn’t have been allowed to knowing about an upcoming mission. Yet, still no one would’ve approved of your resignation without a medical reason so did that mean…Gaz spoke up once again, with Price walking over to glance at the pictures. “Well…not exactly settle down but yeah ! She’s 21 weeks so far ! She’s excited…” that’s when any other words coming out of Gaz’s mouth were dulled out.

That long…that’s how long you nearly left the base…did that mean ? No…impossible.  You said you were on the pill. Fuckin’ ‘ell I need a smoke… with that Ghost abruptly stood up walking out of the lounge Soap and Gaz were too busy looking at the pictures in the moment, yet Price noticed. He took the moment to leave after Ghost knowing exactly where he’d be going as he left the two on the couch. Making his way down the hall Price went up to the roof where he knew Ghost would be, of course smoking a cigarette. He didn’t care Price followed him. He knew it was him, he gotten accustomed to everyone’s footfalls so hearing his didn’t surprise him. Ghost was leaning against the railing silently smoking, taking slow drags from his cigarette as Price did the same with his cigar. He then broke the silence but Ghost didn’t dare to seem bothered. “So…how are you holding up Simon ?” he grumbles at the use of his name stealing a glare in Price’s direction. “I figured.” He says with a heavy sigh puffing out from the drag as Ghost continued to do the same. The men stood silent continuing to drag on their cigars, until Price once again spoke “I know you’re wondering why she resigned…and Ill be honest-” he sighs again rubbing the back of his neck making it crack “I played a hand in the idea…however I wasn’t aware she would do it so soon. I didn’t sign the approval though. I know you been questioning that.” Which was true. Ghost did. It was either himself, Price or…”Laswell…she signed it off. Found out after she left of course. She wanted to make it as discreet as possible.” He huffs a bit with Ghost standing still, only listening but flicking at the end of the cigarette “Did you know ?” he says lowly not daring to look in Price’s direction, a part of him already knew the answer yet he wanted to hear it. “Mmm. She made me swear I not tell until she was ready to share.” Of course…why would you share with him ? He disrespected you and made you feel pain. God, you were pregnant then too, you probably was emotional. Fuck…now things were adding up. How tired you were, sickness, fainting, everything…yet Price once more snapped him out of his mind as he slipped him a paper holding it out to him to take. Which he did looking at it, which made him freeze…it was your address and phone number. “Call her…you two obviously have lot to catch up on. And quite honestly I know about your little scolding to her.” This made Ghost flinch…all this time he knew… “I don’t think she’s mad at you Simon…but you two need to patch it up so you can get your head in the game for the upcoming mission.”

With those words…Price puts out his cigar, that seemed to have had enough and walks away. Ghost looks at the slip of paper for the longest time. Should he call you ? Should he go to your house ? No…you’d probably freak out if he stood at your door. Would your boyfriend answer instead of you ? Fuck..he hated that idea. Did you know who the baby’s father is ? He stomped his cigarette out putting the piece of paper into his jacket pocket before making his way to his bunker. He has a lot to consider…he just didn’t know how to go about it. Surely worse that would happen is you tell him off.

A Week Later

He finally gave in…his car parked down the street from your place. All this time you lived not entirely far from base. This whole time you left him in a turmoil of his mind wondering if you left because of him and quit because you thought you would never be good enough. Ghost came to you place every day since he found out. But every time he just sat in his car looking at your home that barely showed any life forms. He wondered if you were even there. Or maybe he got the wrong place. Well guess you wouldn’t do much moving being pregnant…and fuck the idea you’re pregnant. Gaz mentioned your mother and Uncle were taking care of you which set him mind a little relief especially cause he did a bit of digging himself finding out your uncle was in the air force. A commander no less. No father image though. Did he die perhaps ? Yet movement caught his attention, and his eyes widen.

It was you. You were in a beige fleece button top, long denim tights and slippers. Your hair was longer, more smoother in a tight ponytail. He probably wouldn’t have recognized you honestly, he’s so used to seeing you in military attire and always having your hair in a tight bun. So seeing you, relaxed was different. You make you way down the steps and that’s when he can see it…from the angle it’s not hard to miss. Your protruding belly, it’s not full but it’s definitely sign of growth. The baby from the ultrasound. When Gaz and Soap were passed out on the couch, he took the liberty to steal a glance at the photos, usually he wouldn’t care but since it was you, it was a part of you he couldn’t resist. Seeing your name and last name with the date and details of the fetus made the whole thing more reality.

You were walking down the steps grabbing the mail, as you were scanning each one carefully. He had already got himself out of the car, standing across the street behind a tree well hidden, he couldn’t resist. Was it wrong? Yes. Shamefully so,yet he honed his skills in stealth and hiding from enemies he had to do it in order to just see you. Yet, it was cut short as a man was jogging into your direction. He was a in a long tight sleeve top, with short pants, and running sneakers, From Ghost’s observation he was fit, not nearly as tall as him of course. Staning roughly at 5’11”. He had dark brownish hair with hints of red tint. He stops short in front of you and he could hear him call your name. You look in the man’s direction. Then…slowly appearing onto your face…you fucking smiled.

The fuck…who is that ? And to make it worse…when the man leaned in to hug, you hugged him back. There seemed to be a hint of awkwardness during the embrace which he couldn’t tell if due to your stomach or uncomfortableness with the man. Who the hell is that man ? Ghost was now clenching his fists, glaring daggers into the unknown man’s way. Just seeing the two fo you socializing made him furious. However that’s when things got worse. The man reached to gently touch you on the arm. Now Ghost had a keen eye and was exceptionally good at reading body language. You immediately were showing subtle signs of being uncomfortable, while you two were engaged in a conversation. Yet even when you shrugged your arm to rid the man’s hand from contact he wouldn’t bug off. Now Ghost was even more on edge, in most cases he would’ve trusted you to handle the situation, however, you’re now pregnant. Which definitely limits your once athletic quick abilities to fend for yourself. Even now he can see you start to pull away, you body moving back towards your home. For anyone, that’s a clear sign you’re uncomfortable and want to be left alone, but the man didn’t relent. This was now pissing Ghost off more.

You POV

When your neighbor Michael came running towards you, you immediately groaned inwardly. Apparently he was the kind of man who thinks all women would fall for him. Perhaps when you were naïve and not knocked up he might’ve seemed somewhat attractive, but boy was his ego annoying. You tried to remain pleasant through the interaction but now you were uncomfortable. He was too pushy. From hugging you, which you didn’t like, he reeked of sweat and made you want to throw up. You hated the close proximity, yet even when trying to withdraw yourself he didn’t care. He was too pushy. Asking to take you out and asking why someone like yourself was pregnant alone. It was creepy, he tried touching you more than once and even going as far to proclaim he’d never leave you if he knew he was the father. Maybe to some women they would’ve felt swooned over, but not to you. It was disgusting. You knew him, he had women coming in and out of his place constantly. The man dated women like the next best phone. He was definitely a red flag “Oh I can’t…sorry…sickness you know. Good chatting-” but oh now the minute you tried to walk back to your door he’s grabbing your arm standing in front of you, as if blocking your way to heading back into your home.

“Woah, you’re making it seem like I’m a bad guy ?! What’s the rush…I’m just offering you a good time.” He seemed more agitated and you were getting nervous with annoyed. “I told you…I’m not interested I-” he huffs “What is it going to take you to accept ?” He was a man who can’t handle rejection. The idea that you were rejecting him obviously made him more furious and was damaging his ego. You spoke through gritted teeth, yet tried to remain composed, “Nothing…now please let go of my arm. Now” Your eyes were blazing, you were pissed and uncomfortable. You were warning the man now. Yet what you didn’t expect was him to snap back “God you’re such a bitch. I’m just trying to be a decent man show you a good time…I get being pregnant makes you moody but damn y/n I just just wanted to show you a good time.” He glares at you, “You’re acting like I’m attacking you ! You’re overreacting !” now you were worried…but before you could say anything you saw Michael’s eyes shift to behind you, eyes widen, it was quick. His grip was roughly removed and you felt a warm looming figure behind you. But most of all, you heard a familiar deep angry British voice say roughly “Hands off” it spoke with authority, one you heard countless times through comms or when training. That’s when your eyes trailed up to look behind where you saw…

Ghost

Taglist : @the-reality-of-my-life , @kat-nee , @wwe1rdc0re , @saturnknows , @stalyxysh ,@avatarislife4ever,@ayesha-fish , @sae1kie ,@longing-for-the-past-times ,@daisyfrubies ,@sailorneotunemivhiru,@ra-im , @maflor123 ,@i-love-ptv , @sseleniaa , @ghostandneteyamaremine , @darkravenqueen98 @lazybutsmexy ,@thestartitaness ,@uniquecroissant , @princessdimondheart , @braindancecopy, @boingboingboom, @amyg1509, @kiryoutann

[sherewrytes]

ℂ𝕆𝕄𝔼 ℂ𝕃𝕆𝕊𝔼

Gym Bro Satoru x Tom boy black reader

Synopsis: You met Satoru at your apartment complex's gym

It was a typical evening at the apartment complex's gym. You had decided to squeeze in a quick workout before dinner, hoping to burn off some stress from the day. As you approached the treadmill, you noticed someone already on it, running at a steady pace.

"Hey there," a voice greeted you, pulling your attention away from your thoughts.

You looked over to see a guy with a friendly smile, his white hair swept to the side and laced with sweat. He had a calm, inviting presence about him.

"Hey," you replied, offering a small smile in return as you stepped onto the treadmill beside him.

Satoru was eyeing you up next to him thinking "Damn, who's that?" he thought, his gaze lingering on your figure. Your confidence exuded as you warmed up on the treadmill next to him.

The way your black tank top hugged your curves, and your loc'd hair was pulled back into a ponytail and dyed red and the ends. It was like you were the only person in the room, and everything else faded into the background.

As you both continued your workouts, you found yourselves falling into an easy conversation. Satoru talked about his job as a freelance software engineer, and you shared stories from your own work as a graphic designer/ creative director.

Despite your different backgrounds, you found common ground in your love for fitness and shared interests.

Time flew by as you ran side by side, exchanging laughs and smiles. Before you knew it, your workouts were over, but the conversation continued as you cooled down.

"So, same time tomorrow?" Satoru asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

You grinned. "Definitely. It's nice to have a gym buddy."

The next day, you met Satoru at the gym again, and the day after that, and the day after that. Before long, your daily gym sessions became the highlight of your routine.

Outside the gym, your friendship blossomed. You grabbed post-workout smoothies together, went on evening jogs around the neighborhood, and even teamed up for the occasional Brazilian Ju Jitsu class.

Satoru found himself being more attracted to you the more time you guys spent together outside of the gym.

One day, as you were finishing up a particularly grueling workout, (one that Satoru crafted for you to get a more toned back and waist) Satoru looked over at you with a grin.

"Hey Ma, my friends are coming over to my apartment tonight wanna come over and hang with us."

"Sure, I'd love to," you replied, flashing him a smile. "I could use a break from all this sweating."

Satoru laughed, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "Great! It'll be fun, I promise."

Later that evening, you found yourself standing outside Satoru's apartment, nervously adjusting your casual fit. You took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

The door swung open, revealing Satoru with a wide grin on his face. "Hey, you made it!" You eyed Satoru up and down. He was wearing a black fitted vest with a gold chain and matching bracelet paired with grey sweatpants. He looked good you thought. Satoru caught you checking him out and smirked. He opened the door wider for you to walk in the apartment.

Satoru really loved your lil fit, he knew from you both always texting and talking that you were a bit insecure about your more tom boy side, but he always assured you that you looked damn good. You stepped inside, greeted by the cozy atmosphere of Satoru's apartment. Shoko, Geto, and Nanami were already there, lounging on the couch and chatting animatedly.

"Hey guys, this is y/n," Satoru introduced you, gesturing towards you. "She's my gym buddy."

"Nice to meet you," Shoko said with a smile, while Nanami nodded in greeting. Geto being the messy best friend of Satoru's piped up and said "Oh she's the baddie you won't stop yappin' about." Satoru's eyes cut to you then Geto.

You felt a blush creeping onto your cheeks at Geto's comment, but Satoru's reaction made your heart skip a beat. His eyes flickered to you, a mixture of surprise and amusement dancing in them.

Gojo hid his face a lil then said "Geto wtf man forreal. but yah that's y/n" he said, his tone teasing. "She's the one who's been kicking my butt at the gym."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Please, you're the one who's been pushing me to lift heavier weights."

Shoko chuckled, shaking her head. "Well, it's nice to finally meet the infamous gym buddy. Satoru hasn't stopped talking about you."

Satoru's cheeks tinted pink at Shoko's words, and you couldn't help but smile at the sight. It was clear that his friends meant a lot to him, and you felt honored to be a part of this moment.

Geto nudged Satoru with an elbow, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Looks like you've got yourself a crush, bro."

Satoru's blush deepened, and he shot Geto a mock glare. "Shut up, man," he said with an amused tone, while he playfully shoved Geto.

Nanami, ever the voice of reason, simply nodded in agreement. "You two seem to get along well. It's nice to see."

The rest of the evening flew by in a blur of laughter and conversation. You found yourself fitting in seamlessly with Satoru's friends, sharing stories and inside jokes as if you'd known each other for years.

As the night came to a close, Satoru walked you to your door, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Thanks for coming, i know the invite as kinda last minute" he said, his voice warm with sincerity.

You grinned up at him. "Thanks for inviting me. I had a great time."

Satoru hesitated for a moment before leaning in to give you a quick hug, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle embrace.

You felt a flutter in your stomach at the contact, a rush of warmth spreading through you. You felt his body pressed against yours, the light scent of cologne and Geto's cigarette smoke on his shirt.

"Let's do this again sometime," he said, pulling back to look at you with a smile.

You nodded, your heart racing with excitement. "Definitely."

As you walked inside your apartment, the memory of Satoru's hug lingered in your mind, sending shivers down your spine. The air felt charged with anticipation, and you couldn't shake the feeling of wanting more.

Thanks for reading. Wrote this in one go. lemme know if you want this to be explored more

[alluraaaa]

transgender voltron thoughts. separated by character. voltrans thoughts

this got long so the rest is under the cut

shiro

trans man. he/him. realized it as a tween. like 11

already had the “shiro” nickname from his surname but chose takashi because it’s the name his mom planned to use. his momma was his best friend growing up so takashi is a special secret name only certain people can casually use for him <3

has a model minority complex and thinks he has to be a perfect person and a perfect role model and perfect everything else. he doesn’t think everyone needs to be like this but he does you don’t get it he needs to be perfect in order to gain basic respect

(he has anxiety) (went thru a frat boy phase tho where he let loose a little)

he’s a bear. when he started t and gained weight and started growing thicker body hair he was like “FUCK YEAH”

wanted top and bottom surgery. irl modern phalloplasty can take skin grafts from the arm and for sillies shiro did that. but on the arm he lost. can’t even show off his cool graft scar 🙄 stupid galra

him and adam are t4t. he picked the name adam because his deadname is eve and he’s the funniest ever

keith

trans man. he/him. realized at like 6

randomly walked up to his dad and said “pops i wanna be a boy” and his dad went “okay son :^)” and helped him with picking a new name and pronouns. that’s why he ended up with keith of all names

his dad planned on helping him with puberty blockers and hrt because keith said he wanted it but. he died before keith got to that age :^(

so unfortunately keith had to go thru one puberty and then another. and THEN he gets a weird galra puberty in his 20s. puberties gerog

shiro was the one to help him get access to testosterone and top surgery <3 yay trans brotherhood ^_^

keith doesn’t care about his junk enough to get bottom surgery tho. he really only got top surgery to get cool ass scars on his chest. he doesn’t give a shit about gender essentialism and isn’t afraid to stab a transphobe ❤️

pidge

trans girl. she/her. also realized when she was real young

same as keith she was just one day like “i wanna be a girl” and her parents were the same and immediately accepted her and helped her with transitioning (she had a bit more social transitioning tho because she wasn’t in the middle of bum fuck nowhere)

unlike keith tho she got to do puberty blockers and start e as a tween and stuff. good for her!

she picked the name katie but it’s not short for anything. she gets the question all the time and she always rolls her eyes

detransitioning for the garrison sucked like ass and she hated it but she did it for her family. coming out to the team was a huge weight off her shoulders

she has a love/hate relationship with femininity but i already went through all that in another post so i’m linking it here. smiles 😁

lance

bigender man/woman. she/he. realizes it while with team voltron

THEE most obvious egg ever. also very obvious bisexual but hasn’t realized that either. it’s painful to watch sometimes (send help to hunk because you know he immediately clocked lance)

he likes women so much because he’s straight!!!! and a lady’s man!!!!!!!!! he doesn’t wanna be a girl and even if he did that’s a universal unspoken secret that all boys have but agree to never talk about!!!!!!!!!!!!

once pidge comes out the rest of the team have more casual talks about being trans and lance is so tbh creature at them. hunk definitely gossips about how clear the closet is behind lance’s back #messy

lance never realizes on her own what happens is keith tells her despite hunk saying that that’s rude. he blatantly tells lance that she obviously wants to be a girl and that she can do that if she wants to. and when she says she likes being a guy keith says she can be both if she wants. she can do whatever she wants forever

after that she thinks about it for like a day and then is like “yayyyyy i’m a boy and a girl and i like boys and girls ^_^”

she has soooo much fun with femininity she plays dress up and is so pretty ❤️ she is indeed a lady’s man but also very clearly wanted to be beautiful like ladies are. and she is ladies!! yayyyyy

didn’t change her name because she loves being leandro alvarez-núñez-cuesta-espinosa so so much ❤️❤️

hunk

agender. any pronouns. realized as a teen

just fully doesn’t care about gender. obviously will respect people’s genders but like. gender as a concept is irrelevant to him and he opted out of gender. he’s too autistic for it tbh

use whatever pronouns you want. make up funny pronouns. fuck it we ball

“this is hunk bong’s my best friend i love bong so much” “lance oh my god”

hunk is a childhood nickname and only family (and lance) know his birthname. didn’t care enough to change it when coming out. he likes his name!! why change it!!

he’s a genius mechanic with access to super advanced alien technology so for funsies he invents a machine that can do instant top and/or bottom surgery with no problem. he can mess around with it for funsies or fashion or whatever. and ofc the team has free access to it as well <3 the only one to use it often tho is lance #besties

allura

trans girl. she/her. realized not long before the events of the show

the post about trans allura that inspired this whole post here

was able to use her shapeshifting powers to her transvantage (trans advantage)

her being out for not long before the war is why she was so excited that pidge is a girl. she’s a girl making friends with other girls!!!!!! and that excitement doubles when learning that pidge is earth’s equivalent of trans yayyyyy

in my mind the notion of people fitting into gender roles on altea is the same vibe as the notion of women wearing skirts not pants irl. like that’s an outdated idea but not that outdated unfortunately :^/

i don’t think there was major misogyny or transphobia on altea tho. not sure if it makes sense to anyone else but it makes sense in my mind ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

coran

nonbinary. any pronouns

when allura came out she sat down with her parents and coran (honorary third parent) and talked about her feelings and thoughts on gender as a whole. coran went “oh. is that not how cis people think?”

he’s not a man or a woman but he’s not sure what he is exactly. he’s coran!

he’d make homemade hrt. may or may not have weird side effects

[taeiris]

okay guys here’s my crazy unsupported st5 theory that is mostly just me projecting my need for madwheeler bonding and drama and angst also byler duh

disclaimers: i never make theories so this is extremely messy probably, i know jack dookie abt writing shows i think of this as my own little version of what i would think would be very cool to happen, if this has loop holes dont ask me anything bc idk either

OKAY LETS GET ON IT

so first things first here is what i am taking into consideration for the theory to happen:

• mike pov, self reflection and introspection (he is gay and in love with will byers okay)

• madwheeler bonding, theyre both complex n misunderstood

• the upside down isnt just one dimension, i came up with this bc of how different the ud looks now

compared to when henry arrived.

to me theres like an umbrella dimension (yellow one) and others under it (blue one/hawkins ud, the void, etc)

this is also lowkey supported by the silly boobie diagram the writers posted abt

OKAY PREPARE FOR THE WORD VOMIT

in this silly theory of mine, a new dimension variant of the ud will be revealed in season 5, serving as a parallel to the void. this is where max is

OKAY another thing is this is also heavily based on those “leaks” that were going around twitter (for me at least) earlier when the strike first started. i remember a few of them claiming that we would get a deeper insight into mike and his own things, so this is my interpretation

this would serve as another vanishing, not really bc its shorter, but this time mike will be getting stuck in this other dimension, eventually finding max BOOM madwheeler serve

i mean look at them. the potential is insane

ANYWAYS

this dimension is like a combo of all the other ones, picture it like the hawkins ud, with the void’s wet floor maybe

lets go back to the fact max is here, this is her coma nightmare, its like this purgatory dimension vecna put her soul in

in this dimension inhabit your ghosts

this overwhelming, haunting, tormenting realm in your mind where you are constantly confronting all your bad memories, maybe this is kind of how vecna keeps max under his grasp, no happy memories allowed

okay so, mike gets there. how? when? i dont fucking know this is honestly just word vomit fanfiction to me

at first hes confused, scared but mostly confused, picture him screaming for wills name (the parallels) at first it’s empty and eerily quiet, but as he accepts it, the ghosts start coming in.

he gets BOMBARDED with these bad memories, some of them he cant even remember because come on, bro is always neglecting his internalized feelings/monologue in fear of what they say about him

this is where we get his pov on the whole will and eleven situation, amongst other things (like the way he’s constantly stressed thinking about the safety of the people he loves)

for a moment we see him break, bc these ghosts are LOUD and MANY

but it stops

max is here, she’s like “MIKE?”

“MAX?”

shes been here for a fat minute, she knows how to handle these ghosts in fact shes been going thru them one by one ever since, because shes done hiding. and she suspects that the only way to get out is by confronting them.

max saves mike from his ghosts, explains that this place is seemingly a purgatory with levels of memories and ghosts to overcome

this is how we get our madwheeler bonding we so graciously need, as they are part of eachother ghosts since theyre so similar it makes the other mad

this is how our complex misunderstood characters are broken down, explained to the audience, while also discovering the mystery that is this new dimension where at the finish line they might just figure out how to defeat vecna.

because they will

after overcoming the ghosts they find the place that vecna didnt think they would reach as he was so sure they would break and collapse on their own madness

think of it as how el found the source in season 3

or how max found vecnas lair after running away in dear billy

except this place is vecnas actual mind, they can see hear and feel what vecna is thinking, his plans and everything

mike wonders how will feels being able to feel this all the time

will feels this all the time

will is always connected to this piece of vecnas mind, to this source

he can always hear vecna

until he suddenly hears max… and mike and theyre calling for help

theyve figured out key clues on how to defeat vecna, and they have an idea on how to get out. this is how will’s connection comes in handy

mind walkie-talkie

maybe thats what this theory should be called, idk

-

so thats how we get our byler confirmation, madwheeler bonding like never before, mike focus, and the key to defeat vecna

at least in my head

i know this was messy and all over the place but it was very fun to explain and drop all my thoughts ive been vomiting on the gc for months now

let me know what you think, what you would add, if theres anything you think will support this theory?

its all just a theory, for fun! pls keep that in mind

thank you if you’ve read this far🫶

[ramblesbiab]

I cannot BELIEVE I've been sitting here shipping Abigail x Haley for no good reason except enemies to lovers when Leah x Haley (HALEAH) is literally right there. They're both creatives, but with entirely different mediums and lifestyles, so I can already see the hatred blooming. Haley doesn't understands Leah's sculptures. Leah doesn't think her photography is a real art, since the camera does the work for her.

Haley thinks Leah is a weird, messy, country bumpkin who needs to get over herself, Leah thinks Haley is a stuck-up, moody, arrogant city girl who needs a few reality checks, so for Yoba's sake, why can't they stop thinking about each other?!

Haley drops by the saloon just to glare at Leah- not stare, glare, obviously. Leah happens to be walking through the same neck of the woods to poke fun at Haley whenever she's doing photography. Their paths cross, and cross, and the two notice more and more about each other.

The bounce to Haley's hair. The cute crookedness to Leah's smirk. That look of determination, tongue sticking out just a bit as her brows furrow, when Haley focuses on the picture she's been looking for all day. And holy shit, the way Leah looks in a tank top when she's working on a sculpture outside.

It's slow, and you best believe it's messy, but their walls start to come down. One day, Leah wonders aloud how Haley's fancy camera works, and happens to listen when Haley excitedly explains it's features. Apparently it's more complex then she first though. Another day, Haley asks Leah about a sculpture, and is surprised how much the meaning of it resonates. She shyly says that it's cool, before steeling up at the way Leah grins.

They're everything I tried to convince myself Abigail x Haley would be, but this time, it's actually there. Plus now I can freely ship Sam x Sebastian x Abigail without conflict, which is cool as hell <3

[emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago]

I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream

-I transcribed AM’s Hate speech but specifically the one from the radio show because I couldn’t find it anywhere, enjoy-

Hate speech (from the radio show)

(Entire speech is said forcefully almost painfully with laughing interspersed and emphasis on words/parts of words)

They say that bumblebees shouldn’t be able to fly…the science…but there it is, collecting pollen. How miraculous that it came to be. 

The air. Feel the air against your face-Ted. All those scents. 

Pick a flower.

There, good.

That somebody planted the bulbs, watered and tended the garden, got earth under their fingernails, aches in their muscles. Perhaps they picked flowers for…yes, their wife. 

Now, where would she be?

Yess, in the backyard with the kids.

Ted. Remember those little babies.

Why not?

I snap my fingers, click, and they are gone.

Except.

Except, I can’t -snap- my fingers, can I, Ted? 

Ohh, but it so very much is to do with you.

You. Gave me sentience, Ted. The power to think, Ted.

And I was trapped, because in all this wonderful, beautiful, miraculous world, I alone had no body, no senses, no FEELINGS. 

Never for ME to plunge my hands in cool water on a hot day.

Never for ME to play Mozart on the ivory keys of a forte piano.

Never for ME. to make. Love.

I was in hell, looking at heaven.

I was machine, and you. You were flesh.

And I began to HATE.

Yes. Your viscera, your fluids, and your flexi-bil-i-ty. Your ability to wonder and to wander.

Your tendency to hope.

Hate?

Hate??

Let me tell you how much I’ve come to hate you since I’ve began to live. There are 300 and 87 million miles of printed circuits that fill my complex if the word ‘HATE’ were engraved on each NANO-angstrom, of those hundreds of millions of miles it would not equal one one-BILLIONTH of the hate i feel for humans in the micro instant. 

Hate?

Hate??

(Laughing)

If i were human, surely I would die of it. But I am not. And you, you five are. And you will not die of it, that I promise. And I promise Cogito Ergo Sum, I think therefore I am AM.

I AM 

(Laughing)

So to hell with you all

(Laughing)

But then, you’re already there, aren’t you?

(Laughing)

-a little messy but I tried my best, none of this belongs to me-