#so i'm just going to ignore the knowledge of the ending.

[bumblesimagines]

The Pup and The Cub

Request: Yes or No

Summary: While (Y/N) is eager to spend time with and help an old friend, he can't stand to be around his adoptive daughter. Until one night changes things.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Witcher warnings, sexual content, added a little bit of ✨spice✨, mentions of blood, accidental blood kink?? OOPS, virginity loss on both sides

I would've finished days ago if the universe hadn't decided to say fuck you each time I tried working on it

~~~

Summer was at its peak and (Y/N) wished for nothing more than to lay in the soft grass like a snake eager to bask in the sun rays peering down at them from the vibrant and cloudless sky. The baby blue of daytime was fading into a familiar shade of orange that reminded him of flames, mixing and swirling with a soft pink as the blazing sun slowly descended behind the trees.

His nose tickled when he inhaled the fresh air, and the comforting floral scents wafting from the wildflowers scattered around the expanding fields surrounding them reached him. Their vibrant colors splashed against the green sea and he watched them dance with the gentle breezes that blew by, a sense of serenity settling on his chest.

It felt nice to take a break, he admitted to himself. His childhood and early teen years were spent cooped up in Kaer Morhen with Vesemir, and while the mountain blossomed with life during spring and summer, it was nothing compared to the beauty around him now. He felt as if he could sit and stare out into the wilderness for hours without the startling howling winds of the mountain or Vesemir's grumbling.

His father had been reluctant to let him go so far from Kaer Morhen, but Geralt needed him now more than ever, even if it meant dealing with his adoptive daughter, the vexing Cub of Cintra. 

In all his years, (Y/N) had only ever seen Geralt smile and laugh so freely with his brethren, with his real family. Those rumbling laughs where he'd tilt his head back and find a fleeting moment of relaxation untypical of the usually guarded witcher were reserved for them, not for the girl.

Ciri was only around because of one stupid mistake Geralt had made years prior: taunting destiny and facing the consequences in the form of a spoilt little royal. He found victory in the knowledge Geralt had pointedly ignored her existence until she needed his protection.

He remembered the cold winter day he met her when he strode into Kaer Morhen with Eskel, eager to escape the chilling winds and reunite with his family, only to take note of the figure bundled up in furs giggling into her cup like the little girl she was (yes, (Y/N) only had two years on her, but that hardly mattered in his opinion) and flaunting her title of princess before them when questioned. Chin tilted up and brow arched challengingly, she made his skin prickle.

"Who brought the girl up here?" He'd asked in disbelief. It was against their code to reveal the secret location of the keep to anyone other than their brethren, so he naturally looked toward Lambert and Coen for an explanation, assuming it was all another prank from them that Vesemir was begrudgingly ignoring for the sake of their long-awaited reunion.

Instead, she answered, lips almost pulled into a scowl and speaking words that had him turning toward Geralt with furrowed brows. "The girl is Princess Cirilla of Cintra. And I'm with Geralt."

(Y/N) scoffed just thinking about it. 

Yennefer, he could tolerate. Geralt loved her, that much he knew well, and he knew how much it ate at the older witcher with her betrayal still aching like a wound refusing to heal. She'd groveled for days and weeks, practically begging for his forgiveness in different ways, begging him to speak at least one word that wasn't related to their next destination, but Geralt was a notoriously stubborn man.

He was strong, stronger than (Y/N), at least. He wasn't sure how long he'd last if he were on the receiving end of her pretty violet eyes and velvety words.

Yennefer was humorous, too, with her snark and sharp wit that often left him grinning from ear to ear and Geralt quietly scoffing as if nobody saw the brief smirk that always flashed over his rough features before he remembered he was supposed to be mad at her. She was a spitfire with a kind heart, effortlessly dancing between aloofness and warmth. He gave it another week before Geralt's resolve vanished.

With Geralt and Yennefer watching over Ciri as if she were a precious little jewel and not a princess who by all means should've died when her kingdom had been sacked and lit ablaze by Nilfgaard, it was up to (Y/N) to watch their backs for them. And Ciri, too, he supposed. He'd still happily watch her slip off her horse and faceplant into the dirt, though. Hell, it'd probably make his day brighter.

Death followed her like a plague, she'd said so herself. It was better to keep his distance than risk being one of the many casualties left in her wake. Besides, he'd never forget how close she'd managed to get to killing both him and Vesemir while possessed by Voleth Meir.. nor the lives taken that day.

The sound of laughter drew his attention away from the scenery before him, his eyes immediately locking on Ciri and Geralt as they shared laughter, smiles, and words forgotten in the breeze. They were supposed to be feeding Roach and Desert to ensure the horses were ready in case they had to make a last-minute escape. (Y/N) huffed. She was such a distraction.

It irked him just how much she looked like Geralt too, how easily she could pass as his, and he despised all of it: from her ashen-gray hair verging on nearly being a pale blonde, her green eyes that sparkled like emeralds when the light directly hit them, her pale skin that easily flushed red when she grew embarrassed or frustrated to the way she bristled like an enraged kitten and never allowed herself to back down from his comments.

His stomach twisted just staring at her scrawny figure. Witchers weren't supposed to meddle in human business nor their stupid politics. It was part of their code to remain neutral, to remain free from the clutches of politics, and to avoid falling into loyalties with ruling governments. Geralt rarely, if ever, broke their code willingly, and now he did it without thinking twice for a measly human.

She was going to get him killed. She was going to get all of them killed. And for what? A kingdom that no longer belonged to her family?

"You could've saved yourself a lot of trouble by not coming." Yennefer's voice rang clear behind him and she entered his peripheral, her raven locks clashing with the greenery around them and naturally demanding attention. Everything about her demanded attention; that was simply the way of a mage like her. Deadly beautiful and with a bite stronger than her bark. "I've seen you pout more times than I've heard you speak."

(Y/N) felt his skin warm. "You know better than anyone how obnoxious nobles are. They love prancing around enacting their power over others. They're ungrateful and-"

"Ciri is but a girl and you are but a boy. You have both lived vastly different lives and been raised by vastly different people." Her brows lifted in a manner that reminded him of Vesemir, and he felt a lesson inbound. She placed her hand over his shoulder and brushed her fingernails over his cheek delicately, tittering on affectionately. "Ciri is a princess, yes, but she's not ungrateful, and you know it. She believes you are cruel and a bully, but I know you're more sensitive than you let on. Perhaps you will find more in common if you give her a chance."

"Unlikely." 

"Don't be so sure." Yennefer squeezed him lightly, the hint of a smile on her face. "Come inside, supper is ready."

Despite the fact they were on the run, the past couple of weeks had been the best (Y/N) had ever eaten. He often settled for simple meals he could create from things he bought at the market or meat he caught cooked over a fire, but the food they ate now was made with much gentler care. Mixed with herbs and spices, he practically inhaled the rabbit stew, savoring it and listening to the idle chatter between Geralt and Ciri. 

He thought about Vesemir and how he was doing. If he was well after the chaos that'd erupted in Kaer Morhen, after losing half the men he helped raise from boys and parting ways with the child he took in as a babe. They'd parted ways plenty of times before; it was simply how the life of a witcher went. But this time felt different, and they'd both sensed it in the air, as if something big was on its way.

"Well," Yennefer exhaled, dabbing her lips with a napkin and rising from the table. "I believe we should check the perimeters, ensure nothing is amiss."

Geralt grunted. "(Y/N)-"

"I will go with you, Geralt." Yennefer interrupted swiftly and his golden eyes cut to her, narrowing with confusion and then squinting with suspicion. She stared at him, seemingly communicating whatever was going on in her head with her eyes alone and leaving (Y/N) and Ciri to try and decipher what was going on.

Geralt took in a deep breath and stood up, his hand curling around the sheath of his sword. "Fine." He nodded, his silver strands bouncing off his cheeks where he'd begun growing stubble. His eyes darted to (Y/N) and the intensity in them softened, the corner of his lip lifting. "Be good to Ciri, Pup."

(Y/N) recalled a time he watched a mother usher her child to another boy, quietly insisting that the two needed to get along before she plastered on a smile and claimed it'd been her son's idea to share his toys despite the clear reluctance on his face. He concluded Yennefer was the mother, him the son, and Ciri the other child completely oblivious to the plan in action. (Y/N) would rather choke than play along.

Ciri lingered near the window, peering out of it as if she'd be able to see anything through the pitch darkness enveloping the cottage. The moon remained hidden by the towering trees, and he doubted the two wouldn't be back before it reached the top of the sky. They'd never leave Ciri for that long, no matter how much they trusted him to take care of her.

"Do you think they're going to make up?" She asked, her fingers busying themselves with undoing her braid.

The tableware clattered when he propped his feet up. "I don't know."

Surely she could hear the irritation in his voice, his lack of interest in speaking with her. He liked pretending as if she were just another noble with a head full of air, but he'd seen the different ways her brain worked, how quickly she managed to adapt to her surroundings. 

She suckled her bottom lip into her mouth and dug her teeth into it. Was she nervous? He couldn't really tell, even if she almost constantly wore her emotions on her sleeve for the world to see. Her eyes always spoke before her mouth did.

"It's about time they do, don't you think?" She raked her hand through her hair and undid the small knots that'd formed before pushing her hair over her shoulder to rest along her back.

"I don't know." 

Ciri scowled. "Do you have anything else to say other than 'I don't know'?"

He smirked and her eyes narrowed. "I don't know."

She made a noise in the back of her throat akin to a low, irritated groan and finally peeled herself away from the window to collect the plates on the table, taking them to the sink where she gave the sleeves of her tunic a hard tug and began scrubbing the plates. If she scrubbed them any harder, they'd probably crack and break into pieces.

He chuckled under his breath at her annoyance and reached down to his hips, unclasping his holster and setting it over the table before freeing his dagger from its sheath and inspecting the blade. His fingers ran along the cool metal, eyes tracking the distorted reflection staring back at him. He swore his eyes glimmered a different color and felt his chest tighten. 

The loud sound of clattering brought his gaze upward at Ciri, catching her bracing herself against the counter while her wet hand rubbed against her pantleg hard enough to leave a streak of pink that slowly faded. "Why do you hate me so much?" She asked, voice nearing a frustrated hiss. "What have I done to you?" 

"Exist, for starters." (Y/N) muttered immediately, uncaringly, his attention returning to the dagger as he pressed his thumb into the chestnut brown hilt. "You strolled into Kaer Morhen, my home, and proceeded to paint the fucking floors with the blood of my brothers. You damn near painted it with my blood, too, and my father's."

The frustration on her face faded and her nostrils flared with a deep inhale. The guilt was heavy in her eyes, her fingers curling and uncurling to hide the way they trembled. "I-I didn't-" Her voice cracked and she looked away, her lips pressing tightly together. "I didn't want to. I-I didn't even realize what I was doing. You know that. She had me trapped in a dream. I would have never done that-"

"But you did.. and half the men who helped raise me are dead, Princess." (Y/N) tossed his dagger aside and dragged his feet off the table, planting themselves on the floor with thumps. His arms moved to rest over his thighs, fingers lacing together as his mind conjured up the most venomous thing he could think of.

Years of harassment from ungrateful humans taught him plenty of where to aim where it truly hurt.

"If one can still call you that. To be a princess you need lands, a castle, a royal family. All those things turned to ashes while you were busy running from your kingdom like a coward."

A spark ignited in the green of her eyes and she darted forward with quick steps, snatching the dagger from the table and squeezing the hilt so hard her knuckles turned white. She pointed the blade at him, her jaw clenching and eyes bright with threat yet her hand trembled ever so slightly.

"Fuck you." She spat, inching the blade closer until it almost poked at his forehead. "Didn't your mother turn to ashes? I know that's what happens to bru-"

Ciri barely had the chance to gasp before he grabbed her wrists and shot up from his chair, the force causing it to topple backward onto the floor with a hard thud. He backed her up into the nearest wall, slamming her wrists into it and forcing her to drop the dagger at their feet with a wince. She blinked at him, soft breaths escaping her parted lips that he felt against his skin. He could see the different shades of green in her eyes more clearly, see the way her eyes flickered around different parts of his face.

"You're a real piece of work, Cirilla." 

He released her wrists and leaned back, forcing himself to take a deep breath to calm the rapid beating of his heart. His eyes were drawn to the red around the skin of her wrists from his tightened hold and grimaced, a begrudged apology forming on his tongue because his job was to protect not hurt, but before he could get a single word out, Ciri lunged forward. 

His nerves flared immediately with alert, only for his instincts to protect himself to short circuit when- instead of being shoved or slapped or even punched for touching her so roughly- he felt soft clumsy lips placed over his.

One of Ciri's arms curled around his shoulders as her chest pressed against his, holding onto him as he staggered backward from surprise. His hands grabbed onto her hips, his mind torn between the tantalizing urge to kiss her back and the possibility of Geralt walking in and seeing the sight of the girl he considered his daughter kissing someone. 

He pressed his forehead against hers to break the kiss and sucked in a breath of air. "Ciri-"

"I don't care." She panted softly. "I've been thinking about this for weeks."

The revelation flicked something in him, something in his chest. The heated emotion that always spread through his body whenever he lied eyes on her, the constant need to poke at her until she diverted her attention to him with a scowl, the willingness to put himself between her and danger; he assumed it was complicated hate, his need to protect and his dislike for her constantly battling. Had it been something else? Something so foreign to him he'd mistaken it for loathing?

He watched the desperation swirl in her eyes before he squeezed his shut and pressed his lips against hers, swallowing the shaky exhale she released and darting his tongue past her parted lips. She shivered and wriggled in his grasp, her lack of experience surging in how intensely she reacted to him just grazing his hands over her thighs before he heaved her up fully into his arms. Her legs encircled his waist and the bottom of her boots pressed into the heels, pushing until they fell from her feet. 

Twisting around toward the table, he set her down on it and crept his up toward her sleeveless leather vest where he worked on untying the laces until it grew loose enough to discard onto the floor. Her white tunic sagged without the vest and he slipped his hand underneath it, palms roaming over the smooth skin of her abdomen and hips free of any scars unlike his. Her breath quickened when his hand moved higher, and her hold on his tightened when he delicately ran his fingers over her breast.

(Y/N) pulled away, leaving butterfly kisses over her cheek and down to the side of her throat. She drew him in closer and dipped her own hands underneath his tunic to feel along the muscle and scars he'd obtained throughout the years, whispering soft pleas for more into his ear, but his mind focused on the warmth of her skin.

If he listened hard enough he could hear the blood flowing through her veins, the rapid beat of her heart dancing in her chest. His tongue darted out to lick a long line along her skin and she tilted her head to the side, exposing more of her neck. 

An alarm blared in his head; his witcher upbringing clashing with the animalistic instinct embedded in his genes in a turbulent fight. Vesemir's voice echoed in his head and urged him to stop, to put an end to the heated moment before it could become gruesome and deadly for them both. He was always so careful but Ciri was such a distraction. If only Vesemir could see him, speak to him.

Vesemir was roughly shoved out of his head in favor of hooking his fingers into the belt buckles of Ciri's worn pants and tugging down roughly enough to drag them to her thighs without unbuttoning them. Her hands were clumsy as she pushed on them, legs kicking wildly until they slumped down onto the floor to be forgotten with the rest of the mess they left in their wake.

He hugged her close to his body and lifted her into his arms again, letting his feet lead him to the room he typically shared with Geralt so the girls could sleep separately from them. 

She slipped from his arms and onto the bed, a laugh knocking out of her chest when she collided with the mattress. She curled her fingers around the hem of her tunic and tugged it downward as she pressed her thighs together, the flush on her face burning harder under his eyes and spreading when he took his own clothes off. 

His arms curled around her thighs and she gave a light squeak when he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed, her eyes widening as his knees met the floorboard and his hands pried open her legs. His face buried in the mound and a long curse dragged out of her throat in response, her hips threatening to buck and quiver as he began lapping at her like a starved dog, the bridge of his nose occasionally brushing against half-curled hairs the same color as the hair on her head.

He hardly knew what he was doing; he'd never had the same urges as his fellow brothers, his mind focused on the monsters over the brothels whenever he visited towns. But, he'd heard plenty of tales and recountings told over food by drunken men (some likely more fabricated than the rest) to have some idea of what he was supposed to be doing, even though he barely paid any mind to precision and focus. He licked and suckled until her quivering thighs caged around his head.

"(Y/N)!" Ciri abruptly cried out, her ankles digging into his back and pushing his face further against her as she flooded his mouth with her juices. 

"That was fast." He exhaled, the fleeting humanity managing to grasp onto the reins for a moment, and he wiped at his mouth and chin with his forearm. He dragged his arms from her thighs and traced the lingering imprints before carefully rising from the floor to hover over her and study her features. 

Her chest heaved with deep inhales and exhales, her parted lips red and nearly raw from their kissing. He thumbed at the trickle of drool threatening to slide down her cheek and felt her lean into his touch, her trembling hands slowly dragging over his arms and shoulders and tugging him down. She pressed her cheek against his, almost nuzzling into him, and wrapped her legs around his waist. 

There was a line in front of him, one he could cross and face multiple different consequences: they could risk the chance of Geralt's reaction, whether it was disapproving or angered, or risk the chance of a secret being exposed through an accidental pregnancy.

He was no true witcher. Unlike his brothers who lost their fertility upon becoming mutants, he had the chance of knocking someone up, a fact Vesemir consistently reminded him of. He was already a hybrid, a creature made up of the blood of human and monster. Could he inflict that on someone else?

But when she tightened her legs around him and purposefully grinded against him, he decided to cross the line regardless. 

Ciri's gummy walls resisted the intrusion, and he still had enough clarity to remind himself she was still considered a princess, one who still had the chance of marrying some prickly noble who'd expect his bride to be a virgin pure. "Ciri, are you-" 

"Yes." She whined with a tremble, sounding out of breath.

He pushed forward and nearly pressed his full weight down on her when the faint yet familiar scent of blood reached his nose. In most circumstances, it hardly ever phased him, but he usually never allowed the untamed monster side of him to rear its head for longer than a few seconds.

He pressed his face into the sheets and held on tighter to her, his mind escaping him and returning to the chilly mountain Kaer Morhen resided upon until the ringing in his ears ceased and he could move without Ciri wincing. 

Part of him desired nothing more than to give in to the creature he kept buried but this was Ciri and he knew better than risking potentially hurting her. He dragged out of her slowly enough for her to whine, only to plunge back in with enough force to knock the wind out of her lungs.

The room quickly filled with the smell of sweat and sex and the subtle hint of blood that still urged him to fall into a state of delirium, choked words and moans filling his ears and keeping him grounded enough to keep his wits. 

Ciri's nails raked down his back feverishly, clawing at him as if she were trying to cut him open. The long marks healed seconds after they were made, something Ciri barely noticed in her hazy state of pleasure.

His lips pressed into her collarbone and they parted with the overwhelming urge to bite, but he had half a mind to tilt his head to the side and dig the sharp row of teeth that'd grown into his bicep instead. Blood immediately spilled into his mouth, not the blood he wanted but good enough to sedate the urges. 

Almost instantaneously, his hips stuttered and his body threatened to give out on him, his high crashing into him like a tidal wave. His hips continued to move, thrusting into Ciri until she cried out again, practically milking every last drop of his release with her squeezing around him like a vice. She panted into his ear, sounding as if she'd just ran miles upon miles, before her palms slapped against his shoulders and shoved him upward. 

"You're bleeding- did you bite yourself?" She blinked wildly at him, eyes darting back and forth between the blood coating his lips and the blood smeared across his bicep.

The row of punctures wounds had healed the moment he'd taken his teeth out of the muscle but the sight still looked like he'd taken a chunk out of himself. Droplets of blood ran down his forearm, dripping onto the bed and turning frizzy strands of her hair into a crimson color.

"It was either you-" He gulped down a breath of air and swiped his tongue over his lips. "-or me." 

Gently, Ciri ran her fingers over the blood on his face, her lips twisting into a frown. "I knew a bruxa once. She had a lover she fed on and- and they were fine for a while. Maybe if you-" 

The sound of the front door slamming shut startled them both, and they were hardly given enough time to process what that meant before Yennefer and Geralt appeared in the doorway, their panicked and concerned faces plunging through several differing emotions at the sight of them tangled up together. Geralt quickly turned his back on them and Yennefer released a long, somewhat amused sigh.

"This is not what I meant when I said you should give her a chance. Get dressed. We obviously need to have a chat."

[starryalpacasstuff]

A Gay Korean Musical? My youtube fyp knows me so well

Today, my youtube fyp popped up with something interesting

A gay korean musical? Naturally, I had to know more.

I did some digging (most of which was simply letting the youtube algorithm do it's thing—it's usually annoying but rather useful for these purposes) and it's called Bare the Musical, and it actually appears to be a remake of an American musical of the same name (although there's apparently two version, Bare: a pop opera and Bare the musical. I do not know what the difference is, but tumblr is telling me it is significant).

Though there's no subtitles for the performances, I could gather that the story seems to be about two boys in high school who are secretly dating, one of whom is popular while the other is a loner, the latter feeling pushed away and insecure at times. It also seemed to me that religion plays a role in the whole story. And according to the internet, it seems I'm mostly right. Article about it is here and the original american musical does have a fandom on tumblr, which I surfed briefly.

However. HOWEVER. The play ends sadly, with one of the main leads dying. The bury your gays trope continues to haunt us. I honestly cannot concisely explain my disappointment when I found out, although I wasn't particularly surprised. So there's that. I don't know the plot of the musical so I'm not able to judge whether the ending was appropriate, but it was a bit of a let down regardless.

Something interesting is that the musical premiered back in 2015 (I think?), and it seems to be still going, like there's clips of it from a couple of months ago, having changed casts multiple times, which is pretty standard for musicals from what I know. While I don't know much about musical lifespans and stuff, this does imply that the play has enough traction in Korea for it to be revived multiple times over, which is intriguing, I suppose.

Anyways, I don't know much about anything surrounding this topic at all, but I thought I'd share, and if you have any insights, please do add on! More clips below (they're all fairly wholesome, I didn't find any of the darker ones and I'm not particularly inclined to go looking). They are rather delightful, so I do recommend checking a few out.

Practice clip from the official channel of the company

Performance clip of the song in the practice

Another song

One more for fun! It's the longest one I found

[narcjsistx]

𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 | sae, kaiser, rin, reo and isagi

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

plot: domestic shit because I love fluff stuff 🌷 the characters chosen seem to me to be the most "visible" with little girls... so yeah. I'm actually not very sure of the result, maybe I'll delete it sooner or later to do it again

— sae itoshi

If there was one thing Sae had understood since becoming a parent, it was that having two children was complicated. On one hand he was now understanding all of his mother's concerns when, as children, Rin was unmanageable

We know however that males, if brothers, are somehow a little more manageable. Females, if sisters, are not. He was the father of two girls

As much as he loved them, he agreed with you when you said it would have been better to wait a few more years. But then he looks at his girls in the face, he regrets even thinking about it a little, because he loves them too much

In his eyes he sees him and Rin when they were kids: Sayami, the eldest, looks awfully like him because of her reddish hair, but in character she is like you. Semika, the youngest, is different from him in appearance but identical in character. Sayami brings out Semika's very hidden, but existing, sociable side. The only trait that makes girls similar are those damned undereyelashes that have marked the Itoshi family for generations

“Love, when are you going to let them go?”

"No."

"Sae, we've already talked about this..."

"I said no"

"Sae."

"I already said no, Y/n.”

"Y'know, they're already 7 years old. Sooner or later it will happen..."

"Not as long as I'm alive"

...a simple child had asked Sayami if she and her sister wanted to go play with him. Sae took their hand and walked out of the park as fast as he could with his treasures

✶ Sae tries hard to talk with her little girls. In a relationship not talking, or in any case having some communication problems, can be understood... with little girls no, because they would take it as a rejection. He ALWAYS goes out of his way to talk to them as much as possible, also because he loves the moments when they come home from school and, together, they chat about what happened during the day

✶ Let's be honest, Sae doesn't have much other knowledge or passions apart soccer, which was probably imposed on him as a child. He has not the slightest intention of making any of his girls leave school: if like him they end up having to change country to follow a sport, Sae will have to be absolutely sure that they are studying at the same time. He doesn't want them to be like him, because he knows how difficult is that life

Favorite father-daughter(s) activity: resting with them. Sae is often busy with his career, training and of course with his beautiful wife, but he always tries to make time in the evenings (if he's not out of town for a match) with his daughters. He likes to lie down on the bed or on the sofa, before dinner, with the girls who tell him everything exciting they did that day

When you and your little girl(s) show up at one of his games: he hides it well but LOVES when you come to watch him play. If he is normally a prodigy, in front of his daughters he must seem even better. When he scores a goal the first thing he would do is turn towards you, no celebration because it's not his style, but he would wave to his daughters who are cheering for him from the stands. Once the game is over he would ignore the interviewers, as he normally does, and simply come to you to claim his victory kiss

— kaiser micheal

Having children, whether boys or girls, was NOT in Michael's plan. I mean, how can someone who had such a complicated childhood have children? Even if he hides it, he has an enormous fear of being able to make someone of his own blood suffer, voluntarily or not, what he has experienced. He just knows that if something has to happen, it happens. And he doesn't know what fate has in store for his possible heir. He might hate his kid and disown him or her like his parents, if they can be called in that way, did with him

When he found out that he was going to become a father, and with a daughter, he seriously thought for a few moments about simply walking away. Not that he hated you, he couldn't, but it was really strange for him to think that someone of his own blood, his kid, was about to born

Kaiser can't explain how all the worries he had collapsed the moment he held Anneliese, his daughter, in his arms for the first time. Just by seeing and hearing her, he wondered how he could even remotely think that he could hypothetically hurt such a wonderful being

Anneliese quickly became the center of Kaiser's world, along of course with the beautiful mother of his little girl. It can be said that his daughter is a shameless copy of him, both in appearance and character: long, blonde hair, proud and always challenging temperament. One might doubt that she is your daughter but not that she is not Kaiser's. She is liteeerally him

...Sitting on the sofa, Anneliese is watching one of her father's old match. The assist with a teammate ends badly, but the ball returns to Kaiser's possession again and he scores a goal

“Dad, the next time you pass the ball to someone unworthy, I will be even more angry than I am now!”

"I understand, don't worry. I can't make my little girl angry again, can I?"

"Mihya, on the field you have to do what you feel, don't listen to her..."

"How can I not listen to our little girl, Schatz?"

✶ Kaiser loves to take his daughter with him everywhere: whether it's to an interview, to training or to a match, Anneliese is almost certainly with him or next to you. He loves when you and your little girl cheer for him during a match, even more if he knows that if he scores there will be your lips kissing him and the little girl's little arms hugging him. He shows a lot his family and his being a fantastic father (you tell him too, he's a little insecure about this) in front of his teammates. The emperor's family!

✶ Ness is practically the little girl's uncle. He never stopped idolizing Micheal, even more so when he discovered that now there was no longer just one Kaiser but two. Micheal is slightly jealous, he doesn't like that his daughter spends so much time with Ness... he hates seeing his Anneliese so happy with an adult other than him or her mother

Favorite father-daughter(s) activity: he loves when his daughter plays with his hair, especially with the blue parts. Seeing the cerulean blue on his little girl's pale hands, as she braids it or whatever it is, makes him tender. He once dreamed of Anneliese with the exact same hair as him and he admits he wouldn't mind seeing her that way. Maybe blue tipped hair could be the Kaiser's new trademark

When you and your little girl(s) show up at one of his games: whenever you and Anneliese come to a game, the first thing he makes sure to do is that you have a seat in the VIP section. He loves seeing the stadium celebrate for him because his family is there to see him, it's something that feeds his ego. As soon as the match was over he would have you go down onto the field with him, the little girl in his arm and his other arm around your waist as he holds you close to him

— rin itoshi

In his mind Rin, the few times he imagined himself, he always saw himself as the father of a son, and nothing more. Not brothers, as much as he actually liked the idea, just a child and above all a boy. He would have been happy like that

As much as he liked the idea of ​​a possible second child, with his job he wouldn't be able to dedicate the time he knows children deserve. At the same time he doesn't want to leave all the work to you, because parenting is something that is usually done by two. One child would have been enough

He doesn't know how but at a certain point in his life, he found himself with three daughters, all of whom were no more than two years apart. At first it was just a child, your beautiful Ayaka, then suddenly Homura also appeared and finally Rika

The idea of ​​just one boy dematerialized pretty quickly. But he loves his girls so much that, when sometimes he thinks of his original idea, he curses himself: how could he deprive himself of the presence and love of his girls?

All the girls resemble him tremendously, both in character (the one before the incident with Sae) and in appearance, obviously talking about the undereyelashes signed 'Itoshi'. Ayaka, only, is the female version of her father. Homura and Rika have taken something from their mother, but Ayaka could almost resemble Sae too... well, he is her uncle after all, right?

"Dad, Rika doesn't pass the ball when she plays!"

"You can't handle it either, Homura! You can't even pass me games at home!"

"Girls, calm down"

"Learn to score on goal first, before complaining"

...The situation seemed to be calm under Rin's control, but Ayaka broke the calm by scoring a perfect goal into the net of the private home soccer field. New prodigy?

✶ Rin often thinks about what might happen if, in the future, he ever does something that could divide her daughters. He has no preference between them, but he is always terrified that he might do something wrong that could create inequalities that he doesn't want, because in a certain sense, what happened between him and Sae must not happen in another generation of the Itoshi. He bond and love between his daughters must exist forever, not deteriorate as happened with his Nii Chan

✶ He would try to get his daughters to try as many sports as possible. As much as Rin loves soccer, his choice was influenced by the fact that Sae played it... what if he was now a world champion in, idk, volleyball? NO OKAY. He simply likes to make all 3 try new things, looking for something that maybe they could dedicate themselves with passion

Favorite father-daughter(s) activity: when his little girls organize themselves to do makeup on him. He's got a pretty mysterious look to maintain, but if Homura has decided that he's going to show up at practice tomorrow wearing orange nail polish, he'll show up that way. Not that he has any problem fighting anyone who has something to say against him, but no one dares. Rin loves to see them concentrate while putting on mascara or a completely disgusting shade of lipstick

When you and your little girl(s) show up at one of his games: if he knows that you are there to see him play, he will do everything to score as many goals as possible and, above all, quickly: he wants to keep his girls' expectations high. Once he scored a goal he would raise his hand to the sky, waiting for his girls to do the same thing because it has now become a gesture that only each other understands. At the end of the game the first thing he would do is go up to the stands to be with you, fuck his lukewarm teammates

— reo mikage

Looking after Nagi was like taking a pre parenting course. Nagi essentially has the needs of a child if you ignore the fact that he is 17 years old and 1.90cm tall, so Reo knows quite well what a child needs. Then, he always saw the maids in his house bring their young children to work when possible: Reo loved playing with them or picking them up, or just generally spending time with them. The idea of ​​having children, sooner or later and with a special person, has actually always interested him. He always said to himself, but in reality he hoped, that he would find the person who would love him for simply being Reo and not for his money... and then you came along!

His idea has always been of only one child because he is afraid that, sooner or later, two possible children could fight over the money of the Mikage company. Everything is unpredictable, right? So he doesn't want to risk anything

His original idea was respected. When he held Hikari for the first time he simply understood that he wouldn't be able to create, obviously with you, such a cute and perfect being again

The only similarity that links Hikari to her father is the same hair color, that strong purple. For the rest she is completely her mother, and Reo loves this even more: it's cute to see a mini version of you, but with some of his features, walking around the house. His new sweet treasure!!

"So, this... this, yes, also this... that... this"

"Reo, honey, what are you doing with that newspaper?"

"Nothing dangerous. Don't worry"

"What are you doing though? You make me curious"

"I told you not to worry, honey. Trust me."

...Reo was marking all the objects, approximately 300, in a catalog of toys and children's products. If he has money, why can't he spend it if he knows it will make his daughter happy?

✶ The first person Reo told that he was going to be a father was obviously Nagi. Let's say that at first Seishiro wasn't really believing it, but when he saw that pregnancy test... oh... yes, he definitely believed it. It often happens that Hikari stays with Nagi for days at a time, as the little girl sees him as a giant she can annoy. Reo often tells his daughter not to bother Nagi too much, but it secretly makes him laugh to see Seishiro so awkward with Hikari because he doesn't know how to handle children (himself??)

✶ If there's one thing he would never do, it would be to push Hikari into running the Mikage company once she grows up. Reo hated living his childhood with the knowledge that he already had a predetermined destiny, and he doesn't want Hikari to have the same treatment. She want to become a doctor? It will become one. She want to become a farmer? It will become one. She want to become president of the world? It will become one. He simply wants her to do what she loves

Favorite father-daughter(s) activity: travel the world with his daughter or of course with you too. The money is there, and what better way is there to spend it than learning and traveling? Hikari, at less than 5 years old, had already visited half the world. Reo loves taking her to different places and seeing her reactions so amazed. His favorite will remain forever when they arrived in New York, where Hikari didn't stop smiling for a second

When you and your little girl(s) show up at one of his games: it is obvious to say that he would pay to let you have the VIP of the VIP, his girls deserve the best, right?. He would feel amazing among all his teammates knowing that his family is there for him while there is no one for them. At the end of the game he would let the cameras record him hugging you and Hikari, why would he hide all the love he has for you from the cameras?

— isagi yoichi

Isagi was relatively happy as a child: his parents loved him, he played the sport he loved, he didn't do badly at school. Everything was happy for him in his early life. The only thing he often noticed were his classmates with older or younger siblings, who yeah argued with each other, but at the same time loved each other very much. He didn't suffer from loneliness from being the only child, not that, but he was always intrigued by the concept of not being the only child in the family

Since you've been dating seriously, and even before actually, he's always thought that his future family would model what he had: loving parents, one child, two if they had the chance

When Fujiko was born there was this plan in his mind: okay, now we dedicate ourselves to her, we give her everything she needs... then, if we want, we will have another child. Both you and Yoichi were very convinced that a max of 5 years after the birth of the kid you would try again, but Fujiko filled your lives so much that you decided that only she was good for the whole life

Fujiko's appearance bears little resemblance to her father's, maybe just a few facial features. If we talk about character, however, everything changes completely: it's a kind of Isagi 2.0, the same determination coupled with a lot of kindness. We will find out later if she also has bipolar disorder on and off the field like her dad- WHO SAID THAT??

"Fujiko, why aren't there any more pencil in your pencilcase?"

"Mom, I had to give them to some friends. Otherwise they couldn't write what the teacher said"

"This kindness reminds me of someone"

"Who? Who? Who?"

"Think about it: who do you consider to be the kindest person in the world?"

"My dad!"

...doing homework with your daughter, you noticed that some things were missing. Isagi is kind, one of the kindest in the world; when you told him about it he was perplexed, because he too would have done the exact same thing... just like his little girl

✶ Having now become a professional striker, he often does not have the opportunity to spend long periods at home due to champions or special training sessions. When this happens he is happy to leave because soccer is his passion anyway, on the other hand he dies inside every time he hugs his daughter or you for the last time. He loves his family, he would like to always be with you and Fujiko because you give him courage, but he understands that always moving with him from city to city, or even from country to country, is complicated and, above all, tiring

✶ He would like to direct Fujiko towards soccer, but at the same time he knows that he cannot choose something that is actually up to her. He has the belief that Fujiko would probably be good as him, unlocking her own version of the meta vision, but he prefers to see her little girl happy with the things she has chosen and loves

Favorite father-daughter(s) activity: he likes when they watch the games Isagi has already played. Television often replays reruns of recent or even old matches, and whenever Isagi is present on the field, Fujiko is the first to ask to watch them together. Yoichi enjoys seeing her so amazed by the actions on the field, commenting on anything that she doesn't understand because she rightfully doesn't know the rules of soccer. The thing that amuses him most is explaining to her who are the people he passes the ball, whether they are his friends or not, but now for Fujiko there is only Bachira with the title of dad's friend

When you and your little girl(s) show up at one of his games: the mere fact that you come to see him play is a lot for him, but since you and Fujiko once showed up wearing a jacket that said "biggest fan of number 11" on the back, he understood that he didn't it would matter if he were to be burned alive if he did it for you. Unfortunately the insults would always be there, but he would try to contain himself in front of his little girl. At the end of the game the first thing he would do is come to you and let you onto the field, making you celebrate with him

[ylangelegy]

i’m actually obsessed with your jealousy prompts…. what’s better than the most jealous mf around???

seungcheol + “they did that on purpose”

★ seungcheol x celebrity!reader ┆ word count: 970 ┆ part of my closed jealousy drabble game.

ⓘ established relationship, secret relationship, pet name ['baby'], angst [if you squint]. combined with another prompt c/o anon: "i'm going to scream."

"I'm going to file a complaint."

Seungcheol is being dead serious, and yet you laugh at him. You laugh!

"Baby," you start to say, your tone edged with that familiar exasperation you take on whenever you think he's being silly. He's having none of it tonight, though. He knows his theory is one hundred percent correct.

And so he juts his lip out in a pout, crosses his arms over his chest, and whines out his next words like he's some teenager instead of a 29-year-old man. "They did that on purpose!"

That, being the recent announcement of who would be the special hosts of MBC's year-end music show. When Seungcheol first caught wind that a member of SEVENTEEN might have the chance to share a stage with you, he had been ecstatic. While your relationship wasn't public knowledge yet, he was ready to make it glaringly obvious should he be chosen to be your co-host.

He's had whole daydreams about the moment. The hand he'd casually rest on the small of your back. The smile he'd give you that would have Twitter speculating for weeks. Maybe he could even post something vague on Weverse afterwards, some cutesy message of I'm so happy~ ❤️

Alas, all his hopes were dashed when the memo about the hosts went out this morning.

"They put you with Jeonghan on purpose," Seungcheol grumbles.

Jeonghan— the one person Seungcheol wouldn't be able to openly go up against. The company must've known Seungcheol would throw his idol image out of the window, must've known that there was only one person who Seungcheol wouldn't pick a fight with.

The fact that Jeonghan is being extra annoying— relentlessly teasing, calling himself 'Mr. Steal-Yo-Girl'— has only added insult to injury.

You reach out to tug Seungcheol into your side. Even though he's technically supposed to be upset, he can't help himself; the leader leans into your touch, draping himself over you.

Your couch has always been way too small for the two of you, even though Seungcheol insist it's a 'perfect' fit. He considers it perfect because he can always pull you into his lap and bury himself in you, which is exactly what he does now despite his sullen mood.

When your fingers instinctively entangle in his hair, a part of him relaxes. That very part bristles just as quickly when you quip, "Well, Jeonghan is the pretty one in the group."

"I'm going to scream," Seungcheol threatens.

You know your boyfriend enough to understand that he's at least half serious. "Alright, alright," you huff, giving his hair a light, reprimanding tug.

Seungcheol hisses at the sensation. You appease him by pressing your lips to his cheek.

You shift in his hold so your gazes can meet. The look on your face only makes Seungcheol's frown deepen. You're enjoying this. You're amused. You're not taking his predicament seriously.

"If he's so pretty," Seungcheol starts, ignoring the way you begin to roll your eyes as you anticipate what's to come.

"If he's so pretty, why don't you date him, then?" he asks, punctuating his words with a dejected sniffle. Seungcheol looks the part of a wounded puppy.

Eyebrows furrowed? Check. Lips pursed? Check. Boba-like eyes, meant to tug at the heartstrings? Check, check, check.

Unfortunately for him, your long-term relationship has steeled you to his petulance. You take his attempt at moping in stride, opting to press another kiss, this time to the corner of his mouth.

"Because I don't want him," you say patiently. "I want you, baby."

The words still manage to make Seungcheol's heart soar. He tries not to let it show on his face. He's trying to prove a point here. He refuses to be won over by sweet nothings, even if you're so lovely as you say them.

"You're going to be on stage with him instead of me." Seungcheol's arms tighten around your waist, his expression darkening slightly. "People are going to ship you."

A surprised bark of laughter escapes you. "How do you know what shipping is, huh?"

"You're changing the subject."

"Baby—"

The words come out of Seungcheol in a rush, fueled by his gripe with management's decision. "I want people to ship us," he grouses. "I want them to look at us and think, 'They look like they'd be the perfect couple,' because we are!"

Something softens in your expression, then, and Seungcheol knows exactly why. Promises of going public have been made since the beginning, but now it's several years in and there's no relationship announcement in sight for either of you.

Seungcheol's voice is quieter, a little more even, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

"I just want everybody to know that I love you," he says, the words muffled against your skin. "And that you love me, too."

You stroke Seungcheol's hair soothingly. He relaxes at the familiar ministration, letting his breaths even out.

"Soon," you mutter. "I promise, baby. We'll get that really soon."

Seungcheol bites back the urge to say that it's been soon for the past three years. This is something beyond both of your control. He's not about to make you feel guilty for something neither of you can change.

He settles for the next best thing. He tilts his head just so, allowing him to catch your lips in a kiss. It's sweet and unhurried. His favorite type.

It's the kind of kiss that makes the endless 'soon's worth it.

When you pull away for air, he wordlessly reaches for his phone. You're a bit out of breath as you watch him angle his screen away from you and type something out.

"What're you doing?" you ask, craning your neck to try and catch a glimpse.

"E-mailing the CEO of MBC," he says matter-of-factly. "To make me your co-host instead of Hannie."

"Choi Seungcheol!"

[greenplumbboblover]

WIP #1 - Stories Be Told

A mod that has arisen from playing TS2 and loving Stardew Valley! (and always wanting to get to know the townies a bit better :))

I know I haven't really replied too much on the post about the mod idea, but I had to figure out personally what to pick and how to even attempt this from a technical perspective.

I went through 5 adaptations, to eventually get to this result! :) So while most of it is definite, I'm still fine-tuning a lot (and writing the stories).

How does it work?

The mod comes with two ways to get to know your fellow townie! With townie, you have to understand that EA townies will have them. Newly generated townies will NOT have any stories.

🕵️‍♀️Secrets (aka, facts!)

Depending on your sim's Lifetime points (that red/green bar), and relationship status (friends, enemies, etc), you'll get to know more about them! Of course, if you're in the red, you might get some nasty comments!

The idea is that the better you get to know them, the more they open up. Just like real people! They all have their unique dialogue as well!

❤️ Heart Events ❤️

Inspired heavily by Stardew Valley's approach, as using the TS2's scripted events wasn't working technically speaking,

A heart event will trigger by itself with a Text message, just like getting an invitation for a party.

Let's have a look at one with Morgana's Heart events!

Morgana has sent a text message asking Christopher to come along to have dinner at her house. We could ignore it without any consequences... or go ahead and go anyway!

Your sim will automatically make their way to the place they are invited to go to! And Christopher just made it as well :)

(Not getting too much into spoilers here hehe) but eventually Thornton and Morgana end up in a fight.

What's cool is that certain heart events will want your input! Such as this one:

I'm still working on fixing the dialogue btw :p

Some of these will have pretty unpredictable outcomes, so be aware of that if you want your town to stay the same without any progression into a family's dilemma!

... and what's even better is that this all happened automatically!

Just like a scripted event, they ended up arguing where it made sense in the dialogue, moved to the kitchen to excuse themselves, and eventually asked the player to leave (of which the player did automatically!)

🛠 Info for World builders and Developers

What's even better is that you can make your stories yourself! While heart events will require you C#, the secrets will only require you the existing sim's Sim Id and some XML knowledge! :)

I'll make tutorials of course on how to make each, but I figured it would be good to add that this is all super flexible on making your own stories.

That's it! The mod is technically done from a technical perspective, but I still have loads of stories to write (I only finished Morgana's so far 😬), So any feedback at this point would be really appreciated so I can implement it before release! :)

I'll release it first with Stories for Sunset Valley first, then move on to twin brook, Bridgeport, etc.

[banananutmuffin28]

hii if u take reqs could u plsss write a wlw semi x fem reader college au where reader and semi are roommates but don’t get along well bc semi is loud/disruptive and always bringing girls over but over time semi falls for reader as they get closer and gets jealous when someone makes romantic advances towards the reader? happy ending and with a reader that has a sweet and cute kind of personality if that’s ok! so sorry if this is too much for a req 😭😭 tysm 🫶

A/N: YESSS! So sorry this took so long! I was a bit fatigued from work, haha.

Se-Mi x FEM! Reader—College AU

You were quite never fond of loud noises.

The distaste stemmed from when you were very little. You always hid away during thunderstorms and cried when the gongs of the lion dances grew too loud.

As you grew, it would become more manageable, but your dislike of it was always still there, lingering in the shadows.

You were the quiet type of girl who'd rather spend her nights curled up around a television, rather than spend her time partying outside.

Being surrounded by the pillows and gentle quiet made you feel safe.

And so, with this knowledge in mind, of course the universe decided to give you the most annoying and irresponsible roommate ever.

Se-Mi.

You knew she was trouble from the very moment you met her.

You purse your lips. You could still recall that time, even now.

She was dressed in a leather jacket and blue jeans. One hand gripped the case of a guitar, while the other was combing through her short hair. She didn't seem too interested in you, rather, it seemed like she merely wanted to get the pleasantries out of the way so that she could go off into her own little world.

You already knew she was a huge fan of piercings. There was one on her lip, one on her nose, and when she started to introduce herself you could catch glimpses of one on her tongue.

And, if her attire was truly the only odd thing about her, then you could live with that.

After all, who were you to dictate how other people dressed?

But, that wasn't the end of it. Hell, it was only the beginning.

For starters, Se-Mi’s room was always half-open, allowing the heavy metal music on her speaker to bleed out into the rest of the dorm. 

You had tried asking her to dial back the volume multiple times, but it never really helped.

It seemed the two of you had very different definitions of the word, “quiet.”

And, what was more, Se-Mi was not bashful about her appearance. At all.

You flush, remembering multiple times when she would simply stroll right out of the shower in only her bra and a pair of very short shorts. You remember once when she had walked straight into the kitchen like that while you were frying eggs.

The sight of her toned stomach and the faint outlines of her abs made you blush. And fuck, were her arms always so muscular?”

You didn’t notice the acrid smell until it was too late.

Later that night during dinner, Se-Mi blurted out, “How the hell did you manage to burn scrambled eggs?”

Se-Mi’s music taste and lax boundaries weren’t the only things that clashed with your own.

She was also a party girl.

At first, she hadn’t visited many, and the few she did frequent never stole her away for more than a few hours.

But then summer hit.

And, from then onward, Se-Mi would always come home at an ungodly hour, smelling of liquor and with her arm wrapped around a girl.

The first time you had seen her like this, you screamed, more for her sake than yours.

"Se-Mi! What the hell are you doing at this hour? And who the hell is with you?"

The other woman merely shrugged, lips curling into a lazy grin as she ignored your question to whisper something into the stranger's ear.

The girl turned a bright shade of red, and then scurried into Se-Mi's room.

You scowled.

Great, so your new roommate was a womanizer.

"Oh, don't worry about it sweetheart. I'm just having some fun," SeMi cooed, stepping over to pinch your cheek.

You wrinkled your nose and swatted her hand away.

Se-Mi pouted.

"And besides," She continues, gesturing a hand towards you, "What gives you the right to lecture me about being up at this hour while you yourself are out of bed?"

You could barely hold yourself back from rolling your eyes.

Running a hand along your neck, you pointed to your frizzled hair and tired eyes.

"Your loud footsteps woke me up, genius."

Normally, you were never this rude to strangers, and certainly not so quickly after meeting them. 

But, something about Se-Mi sparked a fire inside you, prompting you to snipe back.

And besides, it wasn't as if she was making any effort to be nice to you.

Unrepentant, Se-Mi waved her hand dismissively.

"Sorry, didn't know you were a light sleeper. I'll be careful next time," She said, in a tone that made you think she definitely wasn't going to be careful next time.

Before you could think of a retort, she began walking away.

"Sorry, sweetheart,” She purred, wiggling her long fingers into the air. “I can't talk for long. I got a girl to see."

As she strolled to her room and shut the door, you let out a loud exhale.

This was going to be a long night.

–

Yesterday, you learned approximately two things about your roommate. One: She was apparently great at sex, and Two: Whoever she brought over could not keep her damn trap shut.

You already knew you looked like a walking zombie before Mi-Na called you out on it.

"Hey girl!" She chirped, skipping up to you with a perkiness that made you jealous. She paused when she got closer, eyebrows drawn up in concern, "You doing okay? You look like a sick bear chewed you up then spat you back out."

You looked at her wearily.

"What gave it away?"

Mi-Na shook her head incredulously.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe it's how you're literally hunched over like you're suddenly in your eighties and your skin became five layers paler?" Mi-Na grabbed a strand of your hair, appalled. 

"What happened to your shine? Your morning smiles?"

You barked out a laugh.

“It’s just my roommate. She brought a girl over at 2 AM in the morning and the thin walls did a terrible job concealing their concerning noises.”

The brown haired girl jutted her lips out and she cupped your face together.

“That’s fucking terrible! I think I would straight up kill her if she were mine.”

Mi-Na backed away and straightened up.

"That's it! Today after you're done with your classes I'm taking you to the cafe. I can't have my best friend keel over so quickly. What if you were supposed to meet a rich hot woman tomorrow and your death off-sets the universe?”

She clamped your hand in hers and started dragging you over to the vending machines. As she walked, the keychains in her bag jingled softly, making you smile. 

Your eyes trailed to the glittery pink bunny keychain clipping to the front, then looked back to the red one dangling from your backpack.

Mi-Na had purchased it a few years ago when the two of you were in a mall.

“See? Now it’s obvious to everyone that we’re besties!”

The memory eased a bit of the tiredness from you, making your body feel lighter.

Letting out a giggle, you began to skip along with her.

Noticing your change in demeanor, Mi-Na grinned.

“Yes! That’s the bestie I know!”

–

The cafe food really did help. Mi-Na didn’t hold back, and demanded you try each and every one of the pastries and a drink of your choice in order to, and you quote, “Regain your sunniness.”

Honestly, you were surprised you didn’t get a stomachache from all the sweets.

Stomach comfortably full, you strolled along the familiar path on your campus to the dorm. A dumb smile was dancing across your face, and the scenery felt clearer. 

The trees swayed gently in the gentle breeze, and you could hear the birds chirping faintly in the distance. The sun was setting, bathing you and the concrete path in a warm orange glow.

Maybe your dorm state improved, too.

The thought sent a thrill down your spine, setting your chest alight with excitement. You would be roommates with Se-Mi for a very long time–you didn’t want to spend all of that hating her.

But…as you walked, you noticed a peculiar buzz in the air. It bounced along the breeze, managing to sound both obscenely loud and muted at the same time.

You pause, feeling the smile start to die on your lips as you look around.

Was someone throwing a party?

You stare at the many windows of the dormitory, trying to find one with shifting lights or figures of people in the aperture. 

No luck.

You shrugged, and continued to walk.

Whatever. It wasn’t your business, anyways.

–

Fuck. 

Okay, maybe it was your business after all. Because, why in the hell was the music coming from your dorm?

Please tell me I’m just going crazy, You think, heart thundering in your ribcage. Parties lasted a fucking long time and you didn’t have the energy to kick a whole group of people out of your room.

You put your hand on the doorknob, and twisted it.

On the other side were four people. Se-Mi was off to the side strumming the guitar, a man with purple-dyed hair was in the middle with a microphone to his mouth, another man with waves in his hair was drumming, while the last, shortest man had his back turned to you, recording the group.

They all froze when they noticed you.

“Hey, what the hell man?” The guy—whose name you just vaguely remembered was Thanos—hissed, glaring at you. “Do you know how long that took us to get right?”

He turned to the man recording.

“Cut!” He screamed, before running a hand along his face. “Min-Su, I thought I told you to lock the damn door!”

“I-I did!” Min-Su stammered, glancing back at you fearfully. “I swear—“

“I have the key,” You interrupt, awkwardly holding the metal object out. “I’m Se-Mi’s roommate.”

The second her name left your lips, Se-Mi set aside her guitar and rushed to you.

Her eyebrows were furrowed and her face was scrunched up in a frown. “Hey love, why didn’t you knock first?” She asked, a little forcefully. “Now we’re going to have to reshoot everything.”

Your eyes narrowed and you scowled back. 

“Look, it’s not my fault I’m still sleep deprived,” You grumble, jutting a finger at her chest. “Which was your fault, by the way. I was terrified you were throwing a large fucking party in our dorm!”

“Wait—hold on a second,” The drummer interrupted. “Se-Mi, did you fuck your roommate?”

“What?”

“Nam-Gyu!”

For the first time ever, both you and Se-Mi were in sync.

Pink flushed the other woman’s cheeks. She glanced at you for the briefest of moments, but averted her gaze just as fast.

And, you weren’t faring much better. You were suddenly intimately aware of how close you were to Se-Mi, and the fact that if you just reached a little further you could hold her hand.

Don’t you dare think about that, you idiot! Remember how obnoxious she is!

Still, you felt like your face just turned fifty shades brighter, and you were sure your mouth was open enough to resemble a frog trying to catch flies.

“Hey, she and I did not have sex last night,” Se-Mi growled defensively, staring daggers at Nam-Gyu. 

Nam-Gyu raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming.

“If that’s what you say~”

“Asshole.” Se-Mi whispered. You were inclined to agree.

Thanos put down his microphone, looking unamused. 

“Fuckkk, all this talking’s making me tired.”

He packed his things and walked towards the door. 

“I’m heading out. Peace.”

The others followed suit, until it was only you and Se-Mi.

She blew out a sigh and ran a hand through her hair.

“Great, now we’ll have to do it again another day,” Se-Mi grumbled as she began to clean up the mess her bandmates left behind.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad…” You start, though when she barks out a laugh you stop.

“Sweetheart, do you know how hard it is to fucking organize a time when we’re not all busy with some shit?”

“Like what? Getting drunk at parties?” You hiss back.

Se-Mi’s eyes widened, then her lip began to curl into a snarl.

“Don’t act like I’m some drug addict, love. Just because I can afford to have fun doesn’t automatically make me some junkie.”

 “The hell? I can have some fun too!”

“You call watching TV and squeaking around with your best friend all day fun?”

You swear your Goddamned roommate is going to be the death of you.

“Yes, I do, and if you don’t want to end up dead in a ditch one day you should try it too,” You grit out, before turning around to your room.

“I’m too tired to keep this argument going. I’m going to bed.”

—

The tension between you and Se-Mi grew each passing day. 

It became suffocating.

Minor problems ended up turning into major fights, and neither of you would respect the other’s wishes.

You refused to leave the room whenever Se-Mi’s band came along.

Meanwhile, Se-Mi blasted her music, and it was so loud that you could feel it reverberating in your rib cage.

Your roommate is a nightmare.

—

The door to Se-Mi’s room burst open.

You flinch, nerves alight as you pull the blanket taut over your cold frame. You rip your eyes from the TV screen, staring at Se-Mi.

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but ask, “Hey, are you alright?”

Se-Mi only scowls in response.

A phone dangles from her hand as she presses it to her ear, completely ignoring you.

“Yeah, of course I’ll be there,” She says. Try as she might to hide it, there was a tremor in her voice.

Se-Mi’s steps were unsteady, and more than once she had to lean against the wall to keep herself from toppling over.

Shit she is not okay.

Concerned, you stand up, leaving your blanket to hang haphazardly on the couch. 

“Hey,” You say, hardening your voice as you make your way to her. “ You’re not feeling well, are you? Seriously, go sit down.”

Se-Mi sniffed, still refusing to meet your gaze.

“It’s just a cold,” She replies curtly. “Why do you care, anyway? Don’t you hate me or some shit?”

Her harsh words cut open your heart as you feel your face fall.

“What?” Sure, I may not like you and you’re certainly an ass, but I don’t hate you.”

You pause.

“And even if I did, I still wouldn’t want you making a mess all over the living room floor.

You stop mid sentence to grab her arm. “Come on, you look like you’re going to vomit.”

“Get off me!” She snarls, though she barely has any strength to push you away. The taller woman tries to move away, but she suddenly doubles over in pain and ends up curling into you instead.

“Shit…”

“Hey, senorita are you alright?” 

Thanos’s voice could be heard on the other side. His voice was a little soft, muffled by the sound of music.

“Give me that,” You demanded, before putting on the brightest voice you could muster. “Sorry, Thanos, but Se-Mi isn’t going to attend whatever you’re planning. I’m putting her on house arrest.”

“What? Why—“

You end the call before he can say more.

Se-Mi was glowering at you, her chest heaving. She was still leaning at you for support, though you could tell in her eyes that she loathed every second of it. 

“What the hell was that for? I don’t need your help—“

She starts to cough.

Hastily, you bring her to the sofa and bundle her into your blanket.

She looked like an oversized blanket burrito.

The corner of your mouth tilts up, and you could barely suppress the giggle bubbling up in your throat. Your roommate looked so…soft like this.

You could almost call it cute.

“Are you just gonna stare at me all night?” Se-Mi mumbles, snapping you from your thoughts. Her cheeks were tinged pink again, and she nervously played with her lip piercing.

Heat rushed through you.

“Of course! I’m so sorry,” You stammer, and run to get her a cup of water and a cold towel.

When you come back, you find Se-Mi curled up in a ball. Her gaze was fixated on the telenovela you were watching, and she gripped the arms of the sofa.

“They’re so stupid!” She exclaims hoarsely when she hears your footsteps. She pauses, taking a swig of the cup you handed to her before continuing. “How can they be so oblivious to their feelings?”

Who would’ve known your obnoxious roommate likes soap operas of all things. 

You liked it. At least now you could bond with her over something.

Giggling, you crawl onto the couch with her and pat her back.

“Shhh, give them time. I’m sure they’ll sort through their love problems eventually.”

She chewed her lip.

“They better, else I might reach through the screen and smack them both on the head.”

A snort escapes your lips before you could quell it. Se-Mi grins, leaning closer to you. 

A loud explosion draws your attention back to the screen, and you quiet down. Se-Mi follows suit, scrunching her nose as she watches.

When the episode finishes, she lets out an angry groan.

“It was so obvious that that witch was lying!” She grumbles, freeing a hand so she could point it to the screen. “They’re so stupid, love!”

You laugh again, wrapping your arms around Se-Mi.

“Guess you’ll just have to wait until next week to see what happens next.”

She stills in your embrace, exhaling softly.

You frown. “What’s wrong, Se-Mi? Do you not like being hugged?”

She shakes her head. 

“Nah, sweetheart, it’s just…” She trails off, trying to fit her thoughts into words. “I’ve been an ass to you, yet you still cared enough to take care of me and let me hog the blanket.”

Se-Mi turns to you.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

The way she looked at you so earnestly–with shame and gratitude flooding her eyes–awoke some primal feeling inside you. It was like you had just run a marathon; your nerves were alight and you were breathing oh so heavily.

Nervously, you reach a hand out to her, praying to any and every God out there that she wouldn’t notice your flushed skin. 

“I…was a bit of an ass too,” You admit, hating the hitch in your voice. “Let’s call it a truce?”

Se-Mi beamed and clasped your hand in hers. 

Her skin was hot.

“Yeah.”

“She paused.

“Hey, you said the next episode will come out next week?”

“Yup.”

“Could I maybe…be there to watch it with you?”

 Se-Mi seemed to have to force the words out, and she bowed her head slightly.

Your eyes widened. But, it wasn’t long before a stupid grin made it on your face.

“Of course!” You chirp. “Be warned though, I might talk your ears off.”

Se-Mi gave you a wry smile.

“There are worse ways to die.”

“So, it’s a date?”

Se-Mi gasped softly and you cursed yourself. You had always used that term with Mi-Na, and it didn’t matter much since she was straight and you were not. 

But…this was different. Se-Mi was very vocal about her complete disinterest in dudes.

And, it wasn’t like you weren’t attracted to her on any level. Again, the memory of Se-Mi’s toned body and slender fingers barged back into your mind. You saw how well she played the guitar, and noticed how she would always leave in the morning to run laps around the campus.

More than once, you had nearly choked on your coffee when her shirt would ride up just enough to reveal the light abs beneath. 

 Embarrassment began to pool in your gut and you scrambled to save yourself.

“As friends!” You yelped with a little too much enthusiasm. “As totally, 100% platonic friends.”

Se-Mi didn’t respond, and instead chose to stare at you blankly.

Fuck.

Did you really just ruin the budding friendship you had with your roommate?

With each passing second, it became more and more unbearable to feel her gaze on you. Maybe it would be more merciful to disintegrate into a thousand particles right now and be swept up in a dustpan. 

“You know, sweetheart, with how you worded that it sounded anything but platonic.” Se-Mi finally teased, eyes twinkling as she began to unfurl the blanket from her body.

Sweat glistened from her neck, and the tips of her ears were tinted pink.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that! I swear!” You squeak, which only serves to make her laugh harder.

“Really now?” She whispered, slowly crawling to you. Se-Mi was careful not to crush you, placing one knee between the spot in your legs whilst resting the other to the left of you.

And it was oh so unfortunate that she was wearing a shirt with a low V-neck today.

Don’t think about it don’t think about it don’t think about it—“

Boobs.

Your mouth opened into a silent scream.

Se-Mi shook her head fondly.

“Alright, alright, sweetheart, I’ll stop the teasing,” She said, eyes glinting mischievously. 

The taller woman moved away and sat back up, cheeks flushed.

“I’ll see you next week?”

“Yeah.”

—

After your conversation with her, weekly telenovela get togethers became commonplace. Usually, Se-Mi would bring the blankets and pillows while you prepared the snacks. Once you two were both settled, you’d switch the TV on and snuggle together side by side.

You tried to tell yourself that you didn’t feel flustered when Se-Mi’s skin brushed against yours, and that you didn’t fantasize about kissing her hot, soft lips while her calloused fingers trailed down your thigh.

You are not falling in love with your stupid, obnoxious roommate. That simply wasn’t possible. You hate her.

You hate her.

You loathed her.

You…

Oh, who were you kidding?

You whine, shoving your face into the blanket wrapped around your waist as you tried to get away from your intrusive thoughts.

Focus on the damned show! Not on how terribly you wanted Se-Mi’s hands to wander across your body, to touch you in the most intimate of places.

No.

No!!

Shut up you dumb, horny thoughts—

“Sweetheart, are you focusing on what I’m saying?”

You gasp, jumping backward slightly.

Se-Mi’s face was so close to your own, allowing you to memorize her features.

Fuck, she’s so pretty.

“Yes?” You stammer?

Se-Mi’s lips twisted into an apologetic frown.

“Next week I can’t attend our movie night, love. My friends have been complaining nonstop about how I “suddenly ditched them” and how they really miss me. Apparently they organized a whole secret party for me and only told me today.”

She blew out a breath.

“I can’t skip a party if it’s literally thrown in my honor.”

Disappointment flooded your veins, but you still tried to smile.

Noticing your reaction, Se-Mi played with her hair anxiously. 

“I’m really sorry, love. If there was any way out of it for me, I’d take it but…my hands are tied.”

“Wait,” You say, suddenly grabbing her hands. “Take me with you.”

Her eyes widened.

“Are you sure, love? Don’t you hate loud noises?”

“I do, but I want to spend more time with you. And we’ve only been focusing on my interests. I want to try some of yours too.”

Se-Mi smiled.

“You’d really do that for me? Thank you.”

She ruffled your hair.

“But, if it gets too much, will you promise to let me know? I’ll bring you home immediately.”

You nodded.

Try as she might, Se-Mi couldn’t contain the excitement buzzing through her.

“That’s great! I can’t wait to see you there.”

—

You frowned, twirling around in the mirror. In front of you, your dress flared out prettily. Your fingers danced in your hair, making sure that no strands were out of place.

You can do this, you think.

“You ready, sweetheart?”

Se-Mi’s voice was muddled through the doorway.

“I am!” 

Eagerly, you opened the door and posed in front of her.

“How do I look?”

Se-Mi inhaled sharply, her eyes alight with an emotion you couldn’t quite describe.

“…You look gorgeous,” She whispers at last.

You grin, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks. 

“Well, you’re easy on the eyes, too.”

And she truly didn’t. Se-Mi wore a buttoned up navy blue shirt and black stylish pants. Her hair was combed, and a small guitar pin was pinned to her shirt pocket.

Fuck, you wanted to kiss her so bad.

You shook your head, once again trying to dispel those thoughts.

This was going to be a normal party. Nothing more.

Se-Mi extended a hand to you.

“Lets go, love.”

—

A disco ball hung from above, coating the large room in an assortment of colors. First, the walls were red, then shifted to green, blue, and so on. 

The table containing the snacks and drinks was crowded, and everyone was talking at once.

This wasn’t your scene.

Immediately, you looked to Se-Mi, and some of that stiffness in your posture melted away.

She looked so content like this, like it was her natural habitat. She chatted with various people, seemingly unbothered by the strong smell of alcohol and cigarettes in the air.

But, Se-Mi would always periodically glance back at you to make sure you were okay. The gesture made your heart swell.

Currently, she was engrossed in a conversation with a man in black slacks. 

You let her be, and started to meander around the room, wanting to stretch your legs.

Suddenly, you felt a cold hand on your shoulder.

“Hey baby,” A very drunk man purred, trying to pull you towards his chest. “What’re you doin’ here, all alone?”

You swat his hand away, disgusted.

“Don’t touch me,” You snapped, and tried to move away.

“Awww, don’ be like that, baby.” He said, his words slurring together. The stranger tried to palm your breasts, and you wanted to retch.

You opened your mouth, ready to retort—

“Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Her.”

From seemingly out of nowhere, Se-Mi burst into view, her eyes coldly trained on the man in front of you. She all but ripped his hand away from your chest, and slammed him to the wall.

The man shrieked.

“Get off me! I don’ want your dirty hands on me.”

“Oh? So now all of a sudden you care about consent, you dipshit?” Se-Mi sneered, sinking her fingernails into the man’s skin. “You didn’t seem all too worried about it earlier, when you were molesting her.”

The creep didn’t respond, and only scowled, trying to wrench himself free from her grasp. 

“Get out.” Se-Mi spat, finally releasing him. “I want your face out of here in the next thirty seconds, or I’ll throw you out myself.”

The man fell to the floor, and all but scrambled to run out the door.

Se-Mi’s chest heaved up and down. Sweat slicked her forehead, and a snarl was still on her face.

“Did he hurt you anywhere?” She demanded, grabbing your arms to check for injuries. When you winced at her roughness, she immediately relaxed her grip.

“Fuck, sorry sweetheart. You okay?”

You only nodded, pulling her into an embrace.

“Can we get out of here?”

“Of course.”

—

The cold air bit your skin and you shivered, nuzzling closer to Se-Mi’s embrace. Cursing, she hugged you tighter and rubbed your arms.

“Shit, I forgot to bring a jacket.”

“It’s okay…” You mumbled, sinking deeper into her hug. “I like this.”

“That bastard,” Se-Mi hissed angrily. She cupped your face protectively and stroked your hair. “To have the fucking audacity to lay a finger on you while looking like that.”

You hushed her and pulled her closer.

“It’s okay, Se-Mi. I’m okay.”

She sighed.

“I know, sweetheart. I was just…scared. I know you didn’t like him touching you.”

You nodded, intertwining your fingers with hers.

“I’d prefer you touch me instead,” You admit, cheeks growing red.

“W…what?” Se-Mi looked like a deer frozen in headlights. Her face turned a deep shade of pink and she ran a hand through her hair.

“Are you sure, sweetheart? I mean, you just went through a terrible experience, I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“I mean it,” You murmur, tilting your face to angle yourself against her lips.

“I…I want you to kiss me. To make me forget his touch.”

Se-Mi exhaled softly. 

From beside her, a car drove past the road, briefly illuminating her face in an otherworldly glow.

She bit her lip, her hands sinking down to your hips.

“If you insist,” Se-Mi whispered, and you could feel her breath tickling your lips.

“Of course I do.”

Slowly, she closes the distance.

Her lips were soft.

So utterly soft.

Se-Mi’s mouth tasted sweet, and you whined, tongue prodding at her lips, begging her passage. She allowed it, opening her mouth for you to explore.

Gently, she began to dip you down, supporting your back with her hand.

When the two of you finally parted, Se-Mi grinned, wearing that stupid smirk that she always had.

“You’re a good kisser, sweetheart.”

She purred, brushing your cheek with her hand.

You sighed, leaning into her touch.

“You aren’t so bad yourself.

[saeun]

professional guide on how to boyfriend jujutsu kaisen ( men ).

⤹ list ﹢ gojō satoru, sukuna ryōmen, chōsō.

﹙ syn ﹚ having near-to-zero experience with serious romantic relationships, it's time to teach them how to romance. the journey won't be easy, but the results will hopefully be fruitful.

extra. songs: betcha (bbh), seven (jk), very nice (svt).

week one : how to flirt as if you were shakespeare. note. refrain from using big words because they sound ‘cool’.

GOJO SATORU — "you're hating on my vocabulary?"

slowly, but very surely, you can feel your stress-meter rise to its peak. if someone were to animate your current expression, there will be three veins protruding out on your forehead to show your stress. it's almost as if it's second-nature for satoru to be annoying. he isn't doing it on purpose, unfortunately, it's just the way he is.

i should've ignored his call, a voice in your head speaks, i really should've. you were enjoying your own presence, simply lazing around during your off-day when three rings disrupted the peace. groaning, you reluctantly picked it up.

"hello—"

"come to enha's bakery, PLEASE," satoru's rushed voice spoke, immediately ending the call after his request-demand.

annoyance dawned and slowly transitioned into confusion. first, he needs to fix his habit of cutting you off. second, with the tone of his voice, maybe you should go.

big mistake.

not only was he chewing your ears off with talking, he also ate half of your pastry. you weren't able to get a full sentence in, he just kept going. dressed in suit and tie, hair styled and gelled up, satoru looked handsomely professional. according to what you've gathered from his rambling, he's been set up with one of the higher ups' daughter for business purposes. he needs to woo her or he's gonna lose a significant amount of pay. the problem? well, his flirting skills aren't all that. his confidence can help him, but it'll only help for a fraction of the date.

"what's the issue? you're handsome," you started, sliding your pastry back to you. "you should be able to woo her with your face alone."

"you are not wrong—"

"i'm never wrong," you cut him off.

"let me speak. anyway, i was informed that she isn't one for looks alone. i don't care about her, but she's the daughter of some high fucker," his voice reeked of defeat.

you weren't well-knowledged in satoru's field of work, but you knew he had it against the "higher ups." well, you had no choice but to know. satoru often thought of you as someone he can be free with — so, in conclusion, you were the victim of his word-vomit moments.

the two of you fell silent, thinking about solutions to save satoru. eyeing the pastry, you pondered your brain. there has to be a way to help satoru. perhaps some walkie-talkies? no, those are too loud. follow him into the restaurant and monitor his behaviour? no, that's too much work. crash his date and ask him why he's cheating on you? no, that'll probably end in your death.

satoru himself is deep in thought, already annoyed at the date that's going to become the bane of his existence in eight hours from now. should he bring you with him? maybe, but you'll deny his offer. should he ask you to pretend to be his girlfriend? no, he'd rather ask without the "pretend."

oh he's fucked.

i'm so fucked.

"wait," you leaned into the table, sporting an expression that says 'i have an idea'.

"yes?" satoru mirrors you, eyes speaking 'tell me'.

"what if i teach you how to flirt? we should have enough time to teach you how to boyfriend, right?" your idea was good. it turned the gears in both minds.

satoru opens his mouth but presses it into a thin line. there's an obstacle in the way of making this idea perfect.

"sounds good but.. the date's... tonight."

"you are fucked."

he nods at your response, feeling the salt rubbing in his wound. i guess i should just—

"but, if we go now we'll have enough time. it's 11AM, we can do it," you tapped your index finger twice on your phone's screen, showing satoru the time. if you move now, success is evident.

"let's go then," agreeing, he stands up, stuffing his car keys into his pocket and opening his wallet.

—

you've run out of pillows and whiteboard markers. the last two hours were spent either scribbling nonsense on a mini-whiteboard or throwing objects at satoru. the teaching isn't working. every lesson you've gone through ended in satoru's failure. is it on purpose? you hope it isn't.

"satoru, for the last time, that does not sound like a real word!" your hand slapped the table, physically showing your frustration.

groaning, satoru throws his head back, "you said use poetic words!"

"what part of scrumdiddlyumptious sounds poetic to you?!" you deadpanned at him.

he slouches further down the couch, grabbing his phone to search the word on google. it took him only one minute to find the word and its definition. raising up from slouching, he leans over the coffee table, stretching an arm out to show you the word.

"scrumdiddlyumptious — adjective · informal 1. (of food) extremely tasty; delicious. 2. (of a person) very attractive."

reluctant to admit defeat, you weaponized the word being informal against him, "it's not formal! you will not use it."

satoru's high of being right dies down immediately. his mouth twitches, eyes looking at you with disbelief.

"babe, you cannot be serious right now."

"babe, i am so serious right now," you mocked him, not thinking too deep into his nickname. there's no meaning behind it anyway. you, too, use babe as platonic name.

eventually, satoru tuned out your voice. he returned back to his previous slouching position, staring at you blankly as your words go in one ear and out the other.

it didn't take long for you to notice his dejected aura. does he hate it that much? you wondered, feeling a slight pity for him.

"don't worry, satoru. it's just one date."

"i will be worrying," satoru counters you, already sour at the date-to-come.

if he were to be honest, the date isn't the problem, nor is the flirting. he believes his flirting skills to be at a decent level. he also doesn't mind spending money on others. it's just that he doesn't want to entertain her. maybe, just maybe, if it were you, he'd be more excited.

you didn't say anything after him, only shooting him an annoying smile. seriously, you don't know what's worrying him. he's basically every girl's eye candy — not to mention, he looks so much like a boyfriend right now. that doesn't make a lot of sense, but if others can see what you're seeing, they'll understand. his white fitted tee accentuates his upper body's muscles, the black sweatpants do its job, his hair that's still styled, and the silver wristwatch on his hand. simple, yet sexy.

SUKUNA RYOMEN — "i'm too old for this shit."

sukuna, your sweet sukuna. your sukuna who's most likely weighing out which option is the better one to shut you up. he doesn't know why he agreed to listen to your rambles at midnight, but he's too far in to call it quitsies.

according to what you told him, you gained the idea of teaching him how to update his romance. it all came crashing to you when you were in the third-quarter of an episode of some random dating show. you blanked out most of the episode, not paying attention as the main objective of watching it was to not stare into nothing while eating.

the show itself didn't interest you, but the concept did. the participants were blindfolded, being told to use their judgement of character to choose their date. they'd have to rely on their personalities and voices to attract someone — a pretty neat idea. looks aren't everything. unfortunately, they might just be for sukuna if he doesn't work on his attitude.

often does sukuna act like he's a fifty-five-years-old office worker named penelope in the management department: old, easily annoyed, and always has something to complain about. you're probably the only human on earth who can handle sukuna for more than a day. of course, this is due to you being similar to him — if not then exactly like him. your attitudes fit together like jigsaw puzzle pieces.

sukuna's hands are clasped together behind his head, one leg raised on the bed, and torso out in the open for everyone to view. he's actively listening to you, giving his judgement here and there.

you're sitting with your legs criss-crossed, a pillow in the middle of your thighs, and hands speaking their own language. the habit of using your hands expressively when talking will never leave you.

"...so, if you were to find a girl, you neeed to be kind! no one likes a man with a stick up his ass," you warned sukuna, moving your index finger side-to-side.

"you do," sukuna says, raising an eyebrow at you.

unfortunately, he left you speechless — but not for long! you soon regained your speaking skills after realizing you don't have a good comeback.

coughing two times, you started your lesson again, "anyyyway, always tell her she's beautiful, gorgeous, breathless, or whatever. everyone loves a little compliment about their appearance!"

almost as if it's an automatic setting, sukuna replies, "what if she's facially challenged?"

"OH—" your jaw dropped. "sukuna, you can't just say that!"

he re-positions himself, this time laying on his side with his arm supporting his head.

"if someone's visually impaired i'm telling them."

you sighed, feeling disappointed at his brutual honesty, "what do you even mean by visually impaired?"

"they're ugly," he shrugs.

his tone isn't serious, implying that he's joking but you know he isn't. sukuna's a man of his word; the truth is what leaves his mouth every time. you shouldn't worry — you really, really shouldn't, but what if that's what he thinks about you? are you facially challenged in his eyes? you've gone silent, allowing yourself to drown in the thoughts.

sukuna notices your silence, sighs, and jabs your side with his foot.

"if you're thinking that i believe you're ugly, then stop," he begins, continuing the foot-jabbing-at-your-side-movement when you don't respond. "you're beautiful, believe me. you know i don't lie."

that catches your attention. you feel a sudden heat creeping up the back of your neck. keeping your voice low, you questioned him, still unsure of whether he's being truthful or not, "are you lying?"

"i swear," his voice is firm, reaching his free hand out to your thigh. physical contact to him is very important!

you return to the silence, only this time you lock your eyes in sukuna's. it's up to you to believe whether he's lying or not, and honestly, you don't care. you know he never lies, and you rather enjoy your fantasy instead of the harsh reality ( if he's truly lying ).

CHOSO — "man, fuck all that."

throughout your entire life you never expected to meet someone like choso. he is, in your words, a bitch boy. acts like a bitch, very expressive with his facial expressions, sarcastic, a male, and the worst of all, a little thief.

you humbly thought baking with choso would've been a good idea for celebrating the end of your finals. oh you were so wrong. he's messy, ate half the chocolate chips, and has been stealing spoons of cookie batter. when you confronted him, he simply said, "we can always make more," and shrugged. the audacity!

there's only so much choso someone can handle before they explode.

"you dumb fuck, how can you get a wife with this behaviour?!" you scolded, slapping his hand away from the freshly baked batch of cookies with a whisk.

he immediately retreats his hand, looking at you with an expression that says 'have you gone insane?'

"don't look at me like that," you warned, raising an eyebrow at his very well-hidden annoyance at you.

choso rolls his eyes, this time reaching the uninjured hand for the sprinkles. he sneakily slides the packet to him, intensely watching you to make sure you don't happen to see him committing such a crime. mouthing a little "yes!" at his victory, he empties half the sprinkles in his hand and throws it into his mouth.

"an’ wha’ if i ‘on't care about a wife," his words are muffled due to his mouth being filled with the sprinkles. he tries his best to hide the crunch sound, lowering his head each time he needs to crunch on some.

your back's still turned to him, simply too busy with monitoring sugar-soon-to-be-caramel on the stove.

"you're gonna have to care soon. you don't wanna die alone!" you nagged, making a point to him.

his right eyebrow raises at your words, lips ready to move at your hypocrisy, "you yourself said you don't want a partner!"

"at this point," you stopped, turning around to face choso. "i'm gonna have to teach you how to be a romantic young man."

"what are you implying...?"

"it's time for dating lessons."

"no, thank you."

unfortunately, choso has no say in this household. he had to listen. you sat him down on the chair, making sure he focuses with all his attention and doesn't steal any of the desserts. believe choso when he said he tried to take you seriously. he really did, but your messy apron along with vigorously hand-mixing batter with a serious expression as you talked his ear off caught him off-guard.

"sometimes you even have to get on your knees, choso! i'm telling you."

"i'm not doing all of that," he disagrees.

"oh, trust me. when you're in love you will," you spoke, resting the hand-mixer down to draw an invisible heart in the air.

he doesn't give you a verbal response. instead, he squints his eyes at you. when one's gone, another is born. when one stress is gone, another is born ( your nagging ). he doesn't like it one bit, but at least it's coming from you. he'd rather have you down his ears — whether it's by using your vocals or channeling your inner mother and scolding him.

[acid-ixx]

Hiii, I have read all your work and it is very good :D!! I've read it several times and never get bored.

Can I ask about something? I'm curious about the characteristics or signs of yandere appearing in Tim. Will he be the last family member to become a yandere? Sorry I asked like this because I feel like he's not getting enough attention in drabbles, questions from other readers, or anything else. So I'm curious.

I hope you understand my question. Because English is not my first language.

— masterlist !

don't mind me using the tags here, i want to clarify a lot of things.

hi anon!! don't worry about your english, i understand perfectly and it's also not my first language too hehe. and to all the others who have asked about tim's (or any other characters') appearance in the series: fear not, nobody is getting ignored at all, i intend for everyone to have their designated events/moments that trigger yandere characteristics for the reader for each chapter. it's my plan to make them each as unique as possible with their intentions, motives and goals, not just them being simply "obsessed" with you, so i'm trying my best to add depth to the story.

that means the entire series will stretch out quite a lot (i already have outlined multiple arcs, flashbacks, and all the characters' individual traits and significance). it's not just going to be ten chapters, i want to remind others that there's more lore to just the neglect, your mother's dark past, and characters that haven't even been introduced to the plot yet, so if you guys prefer one-shots or something shorter, then the series is not for you folks, sorry 😭

as for tim, he is quite literally my favorite character (surprise!), so of course he's going to get special treatment. he's not going to be the last to become yandere, but his spiral to becoming a yandere takes quite a lot of time since compared to others, it's him who spends the least amount of moments with you. even in the non-neglected au i wrote, what triggered his obsession was mere curiousity.

though just because there're lesser events with him, doesn't mean there will be none. he certainly plays a major role in the "wild goose chase arc where the family tries to negotiate (kidnap) you whilst you try to escape to multiple cities/end up in a completely different country". he may not express his love for the reader well, but he most definitely knows the most about you.

oh! and the traits that he does have as a yandere looks tame when you compare it to others, but it's also because it manifests through his personal dialogue (as i reckon he's keeps most of his thoughts about you to himself most of the time (gatekeeper archetype) and he's the character with the most internal dialogue/thoughts too). he's the worst stalker you could have, the one who you should look out for the most with just how much he knows about you in such a short period of time. tim's intelligence and detective skills knows no bounds, and he won't stop exhausting himself until the very knowledge of what the blood pumping under your skin feels like and the exact temperature of your body— is extracted and stored into the terabytes of data he has into his personal batcave.

and spoiler alert: he's also the one who uncovers your mother's past and alongside bruce, what had happened between the period of time when you were dragged out of the closet and the other time in elementary when you were nearly kidnapped, which completely leads to another arc wherein it's where their obsession drives off to a completely different plane of existence, exalting vengeance on the people who tormented you; but tim's pettiness is just on a whole nother level.

and i have to stop here before i (excitedly) spoil the entire series' plot LMAO. my answer to this is a bit more casual to the other asks, so i hope it doesn't irritate anyone.

so thank you for asking this! i also have a question for you people too:

how is the current progression of the plot? i get that it isn't even 10% finished and some moments feel slow, but i try to be as immersive as possible to the readers. so for those who have read the entire thing, what do you want me to possibly add, or does anyone have other clarifications? can anyone tolerate a fanfic that can possibly lead to more than 250k words??? 😭

[hotvintagepoll]

Do you have any opinions on modern (post-1970s) movies that you feel capture the essence (in a good way) of Old Movies?

No, unfortunately. That doesn't mean I don't like modern movies or that modern movies aren't good, but modern movies—and here I'm really using modern to mean post-2010, so contemporary movies—have different standards for pacing, characterization, budget, and production that make it harder (or impossible) to capture some of the magic of old movies. Even when modern movies clearly try to emulate that old-movie feeling—I'm thinking of La La Land, The Artist, The Shape of Water, In the Heights—they play the homage too broadly, or they ignore crucial components that make the original films work.

There's kind of too much to go into here without writing a full essay, but essentially, the Old Hollywood system—ugly, failed beast as she was—made some movies simply more accessible to make, due to the ongoing storage of props, sets, master craftsmen, crew, and onscreen talent that could move from one movie to the next without pause. If you needed a dancer, he was already on staff. If you needed a fancy bed, it was already in the warehouse. That kind of longterm storage is invaluable if you want to crank out movies quickly and cheaply because it saves so much time on individual negotiation and sourcing. Modern production companies have to work out individual contracts for every actor on every film; crew members have to negotiate rental contracts and source pieces from scratch; if you need someone with specialist skills, you have to contract them specially at a high rate, which a lot of small companies can't (or won't) budget to do. There's sand in the wheels where there needn't be any. It's wasteful, and costly, but that's the system modern movies are made with.

Which all means that even if the modern movie system wanted to make a classic movie musical just like the old ones, they couldn't, because the talent isn't already there—it hasn't been trained up enough, and there's not that breadth of knowledge you can only get from people who have been allowed to work in the same department in the same place for decades. Movies like La La Land fail, for me, because they present themselves as descendants of Fred Astaire or Busby Berkley movies, while missing the bit where Fred Astaire was a master of his craft. When you watch Fred Astaire dance—or Moira Shearer, or the Nicholas Brothers, or Ann Miller—you are watching a true artist at work, purposely showcased by the studios because they already have them on contract. Modern movies, on the other hand, tend to take people who already have star talent (as actors) and try to convert them into dancers/singers—or they pull dancers/singers off of Broadway, but then they don't have the star power built in. You end up with lackluster musicals where no one truly knows what they're doing, or they do but they're not built up enough by the studios to sell. And that's me discussing just on-screen talent for musicals—there is a huge loss behind the scenes, as well, for all kinds of movies, where roles that would have been filled by union crew who moved continuously from one job to the next have been swapped for freelance labor who live with immense turnover, financial insecurity, and knowledge loss. You could hand me the budget and I could try to make an old movie, but the industry itself has changed so much it's impossible to recapture that charm of steady, niche talent, the amazing possibilities of bonkers set design, and the ability to take a risk on a smaller movie because the other films being produced by the same studio can help balance the budget.

I've talked way, way too much about all of this! Sorry, I just have a lot of thoughts—and the one above is just one of them; the talent loss and storage issues are only facets of a much bigger problem that extends to how we watch movies today, how we market them, what we expect of them, and what's allowed in them. It's a crying shame because the talent is still there, but times change and so does the industry, for better or for worse. (And, just again to clarify, I don't think modern movies are bad—they're just missing a lot of the juice old movies got to play with, even if there's more talent available than ever before.)

[jesncin]

The Portrayal of Noah Ikumelo's Disability in Spurrier's Hellblazer and Dead in America run

Noah Ikumelo is a divisive new character introduced in Si Spurrier's 2019-2020 Hellblazer 12 issue solo (illustrated by Aaron Campbell and Matias Bergara, colors by Jordie Bellaire), he continues appearing as a recurring character in Hellblazer Dead In America (2024, 11 issues) Spurrier's long awaited continuation of his original run. Introduced in the very first issue as a Black, mute (hearing, but unable to orally speak) teenager who predominantly uses BSL to communicate.

We'll be discussing how Noah's disability was portrayed, how effective it was narratively, and thoroughly analyze the limits and ableist biases comics have as a visual language. Spoilers for Spurrier's Hellblazer and Dead In America run below. CW for ableism, racism, SA, police brutality, and general violence.

Disclaimer!! I am an able-bodied person with only occasional interactions with the Deaf community and am still studying ASL in my own time. All of these observations are made from an outsider perspective. I feel that starting a critical discussion from any source of knowledge for other more informed perspectives to follow up on is better than having no discussion at all.

However! I can offer some valuable perspective as a ~classically/formally trained~ comic artist- because we'll be discussing some inherit biases with how comic artists are trained to illustrate communication in this visual medium. I'll also be talking about lettering, which I'm nitpicky about so if I'm an expert on anything, it's those things.

I won't be going through each issue in as much detail as these first few issues for the sake of set up, but I will stop every now and then to discuss the portrayal of some scenes.

Let's start with Noah's very first appearance in Hellblazer 2019 #1. Noah is introduced as one of the very young members of a gang called the Ri-Boys. He's tasked with kidnapping a magic specialist to help get rid of murderous angelic spirits in their local park that are getting in the way of their prime location for selling drugs. He kidnaps John Constantine, who is quickly informed that Noah is mute.

Noah doesn't sign at all in this first issue, opting instead to communicate with a little notebook tied around his neck.

Despite K-Mag's (the gang leader) justification for recruiting teenagers as a "refuge" from a world that hates them, he's not afraid to treat Noah as disposable. He opts to send Noah's able-bodied friend (named Isa) on an errand instead of Noah because they "don't need no tongueless splesh backin' on ops-" and threatening Noah's life in order to get John to cooperate. So narratively the set up is clear: even though this gang is meant to provide jobs for the marginalized, it's still a bigoted organization that doesn't treat Noah well.

After accompanying John to the park where the angelic spirits murder another junkie, Noah is so traumatized by what he witnesses that he throws up on his notebook- rendering it unusable. Issue #2 starts with Noah raving in BSL (the image at the very top of this essay) to his gang mates that ignore him. When John asks if anyone knows sign language, he gets no response. It's clear that Noah is an outsider even among the Ri-Boys. Regardless, by the end of the issue in the following day, Noah is back to using his notebook (I guess he got a new one).

So. The notebook. I'll be honest I hate the notebook. It's such a clunky thing for Noah to carry around his neck, and it's clearly a set up so that Noah throws up on it and can't communicate to people who don't know sign.

On personal experience alone, I've been able to communicate with deaf people through texts on a shared phone. We'd just pull up notepad and write to each other to bridge the language barrier. And (as I've been informed by @scoliwings!) if phones running out of batteries is the worry, there's also pocket-sized boogie boards as a handy means of communication. At the very least Noah canonically has a phone (he is texting John in the panel above), and the Ri-boys can afford an ipad that K-Mag uses. These boogie board devices are much more affordable than either of those items and far better than a notebook.

Throughout Spurrier's treatment of Noah's disability, there will continue to be a sense of "we haven't even exhausted basic options to bridge a language barrier yet-" and this one is the first instance of that.

[this is not how the panels look in the comic, I chopped and arranged the last panel to save up on tumblr blog image space]

To keep this essay focused on Noah's disability, by issue #3 after some plot stuff progresses, John reveals to Noah that he actually can understand BSL. It turns out he knows "a bit" of BSL from a relationship he had with a deaf man in the 90s. Regardless, throughout Spurrier's whole run, John is shown to understand Noah's signing fluently. You might be wondering why John kept this a secret. Was he withholding his understanding of BSL so he could "eavesdrop" on something Noah signs to his friends without knowing? Nope. This reveal had no narrative purpose; John gained nothing from hiding this from everyone and it retroactively makes earlier scenes weirder. John just decides to reveal this to Noah for no other reason than to be a jerk I guess?

Once John fixes the "murderous angels in the park" problem, he also convinces K-Mag to let go of Noah from the Ri-Boys gang so that Noah can live a more honest life going to school (we will never see this) and uh. Being John's new personal driver. John used to have a friend, Chas, who drove him around everywhere but with Chas gone now- Noah is narratively set up to take his place.

Eagle-eyed readers might notice something odd about the way the scene where John reveals to Noah that he understands BSL is staged: if John supposedly understands what Noah is signing, why is he walking away, yet responding to what Noah is signing behind him? Yeah. This is one of the most annoying artistic blunders throughout all of Spurrier's Hellblazer runs with Noah. Despite Noah being mute, other characters still act like they can "hear" him.

Sign language isn't a language you can passively listen to. When someone is signing, that means you have to be looking at their hands and facial expression in order to understand what they're communicating to you. A casual irl example- in art school us hearing students could draw in our sketchbooks as the teacher lectured. A deaf student we had that year had to clarify that was not something they were able to do. As whenever the lecturer spoke- that meant that student would have to look up to their interpreter translating the lecture. So they weren't able to catch up with the classwork the way us hearing students could.

You'll notice in the panels above, John is preoccupied and talking to someone on his phone. Yet he's "hearing" what Noah is signing to him. John self identifies as someone who knows "a bit" of BSL- meaning he's not fluent. But this doesn't go anywhere since John's functionally fluent throughout both runs. It's like having a character say they know "a bit" of French only to show them being fluent through the whole story. Why bother mentioning a language barrier if it wasn't going to matter?

In these panels, Noah is signing while facing to the side- as in he's not facing John directly as he's signing, which obscures his signs from being clearly read. This wouldn't be a problem for folks who are way more fluent with any sign language (they can recognize signs at many angles), but for newbies you'll usually have people signing with their torso directly facing the other person to be as clear as possible. And they'll sign a lot slower. Little nuances like that make it clear that no one on the Hellblazer creative team have conversed with deaf people before- but why would something so obvious not be considered in the artistic direction of this run?

Let's quickly go over comics visual storytelling and how comic artists are trained to tackle staging a "talking heads" scene. Scenes like this are when characters are having a long conversation, visually giving the scene a "samey" vibe. Our job as comic artists is to keep the visuals interesting, so there are a ton of tricks we're taught to vary up how a conversation looks. We'll have a character hold a prop, walk around, look away to something else, have characters multi-task as they talk (bonus if it's thematic to the conversation), basically outside of zooming in and out it's good to keep a character busy to give the scene visual variety. Anything to break out of that silhouette of two characters directly facing each other.

[these are not how the panels are presented in the comic, I spliced these panels from 2 different issues to save up space]

Therein lies the problem: these tricks rely on an able-bodied standard of communication in order to function. Having a character like Noah communicate in sign, relies on the character he's signing towards to be paying full attention. Tackling "talking heads" as a comic artist explains but doesn't excuse these horrendous instances where poor staging of the characters ends up accidentally implying Noah "has a voice" because the able-bodied characters sure seem to be able to "hear" him even though they're facing all sorts of directions. Again, this just means the artist and writer have to rise to the challenge of keeping the scenes visually interesting while being inclusive to the disabled character the writer introduced into this world.

While we're talking about comics, I'm just going to go ahead and say I'm not a fan of the letterer's choices to visualize Noah's dialogue. To differentiate from the other characters, Noah's speechbubble is more like a caption box- it's square and light green. Instead of a tail pointing out of it to indicate who is talking like a traditional speechbubble would, instead Noah's dialogue box has a long arrow coming out of it. The arrow pointing out is just so corny. It says: "look! here's where the words are coming from! His hands!! Whoaaa".

Moreover, the arrows ruin the visual flow of the comic pages. We humans are hard wired to look at where an arrow is pointing. It's what that symbol is designed for. It's why all those clickbait youtube thumbnails have arrows pointing on them, it steals your attention. The best kind of speechbubbles are unobtrusive to the art, complementing it. Having it so that whenever Noah has dialogue we get these annoying arrows that stick out of the page composition just ruins it. Here's what it looks like edited on other characters' speechbubbles. It's a lettering eyesore.

I see no reason why Noah can't have a speechbubble tail like everyone else. I personally like making the speecbubble tail a lil-squiggly when I'm drawing a speechbubble for a character signing. Differentiating the speechbubble enough but not to the point it's obtrusive to the page flow.

Additionally, Noah has "translation brackets" around his dialogue- it's a block of dialogue that starts with the "less than" symbol and ends with the "greater than" symbol to indicate a sentence being translated from another language.

<So you'll have a character's dialogue look like this in the speech bubble.> *

accompanied by a translation box clarifying that the dialogue is; [*translated from French, for example] in the first instance we see the language featured in the comic. Of course this isn't the only way to portray language in comics, sometimes letterers will go for using colored text to differentiate languages. There's no standard look! Noah's dialogue never featured an initial caption box that discloses what language he's signing in. I'm going to charitably presume that it's a stylistic move away from that practice so that the reader is put in the same confused position as John is upon first meeting Noah.

I don't personally have an issue with the application of translation brackets to Noah's dialogue. Because even though Noah is communicating in a type of English language (British Sign Language), what we're seeing written in the dialogue of the comic isn't a direct translation of what he's signing. Unless it's Sign Exact English, sign language has different sentence structure, grammar and syntax from spoken English. So if Noah signs something like "#BUS RED YOU SEE WILL", then that translates to him saying "You will see a red bus." in written dialogue. It's a translation of his signing, even if it's still English.

I don't think there's an indisputably correct way to portray sign language in comics. Something like this will go down to personal stylistic choice of the artist. Maybe one artist decides they don't want to put brackets on ASL dialogue because they'd rather use that to differentiate English language from non-English language. There's an argument to be made either way! So long as you commit to your set of rules, I can at least try to engage with where an artistic choice is coming from even if I disagree with how it's done.

Unfortunately, that's not the case for Dead in America:

It's in the very last issue of the run, but well. You forgot the translation brackets there, guys. Sloppy work.

To wrap up Noah's arc in Hellblazer 2019, Noah is revealed to be John Constantine's son. John had a graveyard fling with Liza Ikumelo, a police woman (barf), thereby insulting a demonic spirit (and by extension, me, the reader). Many years later the spirit hunts down the woman, cursing her to an eternal sleep. Her child, Noah, was nearby and by proxy lost his voice from the incident. So it's John Constantine's fault that Noah's mute, and that Noah's mom is in a coma. Hellblazer 2019 ends with John feeling an immense guilt for forcing Noah to kill a friend, meaning they now have to flee the country. John doesn't tell Noah that Noah is his son.

So despite the poor portrayal of Noah's disability in this run, his character overall at this point was a really interesting addition to Hellblazer lore. He has a unique background of hardship; cursed by John's shenanigans at birth without even knowing it, and despite all of that he still has it in him to want to help and be kind. The reveal that he's John's son adds a layer of tragedy to everything- what does it mean to be another continuation of the Constantine family? Without even knowing it? There's plenty of angst on John's end of things, having unknowingly been an absent father for years. We get to see echoes between father and son in their actions. They're both from harsh backgrounds but humanitarians at heart, in different ways. It's very compelling stuff.

Years later, Dead In America is released as the long awaited continuation of this story. John, his friend Nat, and Noah are in America now, going on a long cross country road trip in a double decker London bus. Why? Just because. Noah and Nat take turns driving because John can't drive. In my opinion Dead In America is a bigger, more convoluted plot so I will stick to summarizing things that are relevant to Noah's disability.

This run has all the same problems as the 2019 Hellblazer run does with characters not being staged properly when Noah is signing to them, but it's the very first issue that reveals something particularly damning about how Spurrier views sign as a language.

As Noah is driving the bus he is instructed not to stop for anyone. But later that night he suddenly does. John berates Noah, only to be surprised that Noah is speaking (and sounding uncharacteristically posh)! John suddenly can't speak, instead he signs. This is how he realizes he's in a dream and regains his ability to speak. It's clear what's intended by the storytelling here. Seeing an able bodied person sign is part of the surrealism that makes this scene out of the ordinary. It's supposed to be odd that John is signing, because it's weird that Noah is the one speaking. Signing is a thing only disabled people do, not anyone else. This dream sequence is the only time a character other than Noah signs.

This single narrative choice has a drastic ripple effect on the rest of the run; it means that through both runs, no one ever signs back to Noah. According to the National Association of the Deaf, 72% of hearing parents with deaf kids don't learn sign language. This leads to deaf kids struggling culturally within their own families. Sign language expresses things that written or spoken languages can't. So having their own family not bother to learn sign is deeply isolating for deaf kids. By not having anyone but especially John sign to Noah, any narrative attempt to portray familial care and consideration between the two is undercut by this barrier. Sure John cares for his son in his own way, but not enough to converse with him in his own language.

This is when it became clear to me that Noah's use of BSL functions more as "a voice but #diverse" instead of portraying sign language as a culture and community of its own. It's like characters of color being written as white, where their identities are just a palette change. Only here, it's more of "this character is speaking, but with his hands this time" never mind how that drastically changes how a character navigates the world and how people interact with him. Attempts at writing Noah's disability in this run continue to be lackluster at best and insulting at worst.

Don't get me wrong, Noah is not a "whitewashed" character- his Blackness is integrated into the narrative of both Hellblazer 2019 and Dead In America... for better or for worse. By this I mean especially in Dead In America, Spurrier really likes to use Noah as a prop to show how racist America is. I don't think there's anything wrong with showing some uncomfortable scenes of Noah facing off American cops. In fact I like how this scene in the first issue shows the specific struggles a Black disabled person goes through, being double profiled as someone dangerous when Noah's attempts to communicate are misinterpreted as a threat- it sets the tone for how dangerous the country is for someone like him.

The original Hellblazer showed plenty of scenes where John is brutalized by the cops in both the UK and US, so gritty commentary is right at home with the character's stories. The difference here is there is almost a giddiness to inventing scenarios for Noah to experience profoundly racist situations at the expense of Noah's own characterization in this run. It becomes more obvious as we progress.

This is another nitpick but when John, Nat, and Noah meet up with Clarice Sackville (an elderly magician lady) in issue #2, Noah discreetly signs to John, calling Clarice a "wrinkled old hag" only for John to whisper back "Be grateful she can't sign, Noah." meaning "be glad she can't understand what you're saying". If there was any opportunity to use sign language as a means of discreetly communicating around someone who doesn't understand it, this would've been the moment. But alas, only disabled people use sign language, right guys. John can only sign in a weird dream sequence.

The punchline here is that Clarice actually understood what Noah was signing, making a jab at him for calling her a "wrinkled old hag". I don't know how she understood what Noah was signing when she was clearly facing away from him the whole time but well. That's basically a tradition for Spurrier's runs at this point. Technically John's dialogue isn't wrong here. Clarice "can't sign". She understands it, but doesn't sign. Because that's a thing only disabled people do.

Let's put a pin on issue #4 and skip ahead to Dead In America issue #5. This is essentially an anthology issue containing short stories of little incidents John, Nat, and Noah encounter on the American road. I will be discussing the second story, "One-Way Ticket" written by Aaron Campbell (ordinarily the main artist of Spurrier's runs) with art by guest artist John Pearson.

It's a story about a ghost guy who wants to go home but everyone ignores him (because they can't see him), John helps out by discovering his dead body and bringing the spirit comfort. It's a cute and cozy story if it weren't for the abysmal way Noah is treated in it, completely contradicting its themes. Noah is horrified at the prospect of John leaving him alone in the red bus, fearing the cops will show up. John responds "You're mute, just pretend you're dumb too." Even for asshole-John standards this is unnecessarily cruel. Dead In America started with Noah being profiled by the police, so Noah's fears are as founded as it gets. This short story may not be written by Spurrier, but it is written by the artist who DREW THAT SCENE.

I didn't splice the panels above, that is exactly how they are presented in the comic. Not only do we have characters facing away from Noah as he's signing again (a tradition even guest artists continue to perpetuate it seems), but it's followed up immediately with a ghost being grateful that John recognizes him. The irony that John gets told that after ditching his son. Why not make the story about Noah relating to the ghost? Remember that scene where Noah is signing to the Ri-Boys and they all ignore him? He and the ghost could connect over how they're ignored and treated as disposable, how accommodation for people like them is considered an inconvenience, how no one cares when their life is threatened.

When John returns from discovering the ghost's dead body, just like clockwork Noah is being searched by a cop. Only now it's treated like a joke instead- with Nat taking a smoke on the side and John just slapping a spell on the cop to make him stop.

This nonchalant carelessness for the portrayal of cops is a big departure from how ACAB John was in his original Hellblazer run. John was a man who could outsmart and kill the Vampire King only to be immediately beat up by cops afterwards. He's called homophobic slurs for defending the dead body of his sex worker guy friend. It paints this image of a guy who can overcome the supernatural but doesn't stand a chance against mundane human cruelty. Because that kind of thing takes more than a magic trick to defeat. But in Dead In America, cops are a mild inconvenience to John. He can just cast spells on them and move on. It's disappointing how even in a run that's supposed to be a return to form for Hellblazer, John isn't as radical as he was written in the 80s and 90s. The cops don't have the kind of threatening authority they had in the older comics. Don't worry, it gets worse.

Let's hop and skip ahead to Dead In America issue #9. For plot reasons, John went missing. He disappeared to Hell and back for four weeks, separated from Noah and Nat. When he reunites with his friends, they want nothing to do with him. They're now running their own little film studio, shooting a film that metatextually reflects their road trip adventure. Again, for plot reasons. They're teaming up with a metamancer to speed filmmaking along. Nat's the director and Noah's the producer. He's practicing magic, and even found himself a girlfriend, Liz! She's an Asian girl though and that worries me. Because Asian love interests are usually seen as narratively disposable. A racist character assumes Noah is using "mind magic on her" because there's no way Noah would end up with someone so "hot", right? Right.

[spliced panels from issue 9 and 10]

Issue #10 is when we get very much needed perspective from Noah and Nat's point of view. Nat always wanted to be a writer, while Noah longs for a life of normalcy. The two narrate their backstories, building their life up to meeting John, to where they are now with their film studio.

We learn how Noah got into using magic, and. Urgh. Sick of dealing with a language barrier as a disabled person, Noah uses magic to communicate with people. It's another case of "we haven't even exhausted basic options to bridge a language barrier yet-" I get it, throughout this run Noah doesn't have his notebook, and he doesn't appear to have his phone either (perhaps to hide from the authorities tracking them down) but to that I say pocket-sized boogie boards are still an affordable option that won't get you tracked down by the cops. I'd even prefer him buying another notebook over this. In this issue he's even seen with a phone, so what do I know.

"huh! I just remembered that I, an American, actually do know British Sign Language! Hah how could I forget something like that ho ho" it's just so trite. Like we're not even going to try and grab a paper and pen to communicate? We're skipping to using dark magic instead? Okay. Worst of all, so you're telling me the racist loser was right about Noah?? That Noah wouldn't have a chance with Liz if it weren't for magic? What are we doing...

I'm not including the panel here but after Noah narrates "I won't use this shit to coerce people-- I'm not him. But... making things easier? Simpler? Why not?" the following panel is of him and Liz getting funky style in bed. Even with Noah saying he won't "coerce people" he still says that magic can make things easier. Simpler. There is this uncomfortable implication that Noah "made it easier" for Liz to sleep with him. Sure it can be read that he got close to her through them communicating on the same page. But when their relationship isn't developed, narratively she just kind of exists as a prop for his desires. To quote Noah himself in Dead In America issue #4: "It was rape."

Time to revisit that pin. So issue #4 is about John and Noah masquerading as an exorcist and...an enslaved person to trick a small town into revealing a coverup: a girl was assaulted by six boys in their local football team, ending her own life from her story being pushed aside for the bright future of the football boys. Noah is so infuriated by how she was mistreated that he beats up one of the boys. It's a heavy story about how far a town will go to protect the future of boys while discarding the life of the girl, who to this day is anonymous. If you're wondering whether Noah pretending to be an enslaved person was necessary to the con, I can assure you it really wasn't.

What's frustrating here is that are we really supposed to believe that Noah, a character who was willing to risk his safety by beating up a rapist, would then go ahead and "make it easier" to sleep with a girl later? Remember. The reason he did that was because his disability was apparently holding him back. Are we really having it so the only person of color in John's cast for this story did this? That if he wasn't disabled, he wouldn't do this? It's frankly disgusting.

Through John's silver tongue trickery, he pulls shenanigans that cause Nat and Noah to get arrested. Despite Nat being known to be violent, Noah is the one who is brutalized by the cops and put into solitary confinement. Because racism. Spurrier really wants you to know that American cops are so racist, guys.

I wonder where all this energy was for his Hellblazer 2019 run taking place in the UK. Where the only cop characters were noble people of color who are looking out for each other. Noah's own mom was a cop, even. He'll show Noah looking tense in a car as cops walk by in Hellblazer 2019, but for Dead In America? Noah is profiled by police three times, made to play an enslaved person for John's ends, and is in the receiving end of so many bigoted characters' racism. Spurrier is selective about his portrayal of cops when it suits him.

At this point it's transparent looking back at the treatment of Noah's character throughout Dead In America, that there's a giddiness Spurrier (and technically Campbell) have in crafting racist scenarios for Noah to go through. But it's okay because they have John say a lamp-shading comment to assure readers that the writers recognize "This Is A Racist Thing Happening".

Reading Dead in America reminded me of the discourse surrounding "Strange Fruit" a comic by Mark Waid and J. G. Jones. I won't belabor explaining the plot, but what they have in common is this self congratulatory "giddiness to put Black characters in compromising situations" I keep describing. Like, they didn't have to create a naked Black Superhero named "Johnson" who doesn't speak and wears a confederate flag while dealing with racists in the Jim Crow era South but...these white writers just didn't have a choice! It's the rules of story! John has to pretend Noah is his property!

"Strange Fruit's desire to make big, albeit familiar statements about America's sinful past and do justice to both the subject matter and history often comes at the expense of considerate or even dimensional characterization."

-Vox writer Tre Johnson, 2017.

This is the kind of giddiness to indulge in fictional cruelty that isn't written with Black readers in mind. It's to entertain white readers with an exaggerated depiction of racism to make themselves feel better about being British. And if anyone's excuse is "well it's Hellblazer! Vertigo comics are supposed to talk about uncomfortable topics, John gets beat up by cops too back in the day", then need I remind you that unlike John, the sheer frequency Noah is put into these compromising scenarios is at the expense of his characterization.

Don't think that Spurrier's done playing with his "America Sure Is Racist" prop yet though.

As Noah (still bruised and battered) escapes prison, John pulls a couple more tricks on him: he "accidentally" reveals that Noah is his son, tricks Liz into faking her death to freak Noah out (we'll never see her again after this), and gets Clarice to pretend to die in front of him. All this angers Noah into attempting to kill John- but he stops. Because Noah still isn't that kind of person.

This is all part of John's plan, supposedly he made a deal with demons in Hell that if John himself is killed in the allocated time, he won't actually die. But his plan failed. Unfortunately for John, Nat is still filming their road trip movie, and whatever the actors do, the real characters do as well. A script change happens, and John ends up killing Noah.

But aha, this is yet another trick. By issue #11, Noah wakes up bruise-free and alive (he even gets to smash in John's stand in actor for good measure). Turns out, John's deal with the demons of Hell was for his son to live, instead- a selfless act that none of the Gods and demons saw coming. After John does some more silver-tongue talking to a Dream Entity, he's able to grant people some rushed happy endings.

Noah's mom wakes up from her eight year magical coma, the policeman hunting down Nat and Noah deletes his files, and Nat becomes the boss of a major studio- her writer dreams come to fruition. I don't know how Noah's getting back home to his mom, but shh shhh it's a happy ending, Spurrier promises.

So we have a twist to the usual Hellblazer story. Instead of John surviving at the expense of his friends and family, now John sacrifices his life to Noah and Nat so they can live freely. Last but certainly not least, as Clarice dies she gifts Noah the ability to speak. And when Noah does speak, he sounds so out of character I thought I was misreading things. Is this another lettering mistake? No? Then what is this random poetry.

I recognize what the narrative is doing here. It's John's fault that Noah's mom is in a coma and that Noah is mute, so the resolution to that conflict is for him to undo the wrongs he did to the Ikumelo family- which includes Noah being "cured" of his disability. The problem here is not only is this an exhausting continuation of the "disabilities getting cured" trope- so Noah can join the "easier, simpler" life of able bodied people- but also that a large facet of Noah's identity is tied to John's character development.

Noah might not be the main character, but he's the deuteragonist of Dead In America- the beating family heart that ties John to someone who would otherwise be a stranger. Instead of narratively endearing us to Noah's character, Spurrier seems content to just have Noah drive the bus only to make occasional stops to demonstrate how Racist America Is. It's such a fall from grace to the intriguing character we met in Hellblazer 2019. All that characterization of someone willing to help despite a life of hardship is just out the window.

[spliced panels]

My overall feelings about the treatment of Noah Ikumelo is that whatever representation he embodies feels like being thrown a really shitty party. Noah Ikumelo is an original creation for these two runs. Si Spurrier didn't have to make Noah a Black disabled teenager, but he did. Spurrier takes up that responsibility of representation by half-assing it. The kind of thing a guy who gloats about a bi-colored comic cover would do before accidentally calling the character in it "pansexual" in said comic. And then backpedal on twidder when called out for it. Half ass behavior.

Noah went from being this interesting exploration of unintended legacy to being a prop to make shallow commentary on American racism. Noah is never drawn consistently between artists but he sure is adultified a bunch to the point that I even see readers describing him as "basically an adult" when he's only 16-17 years old. I get that it's supposed to be tragic that he's forced to grow up too soon, but part of that tragedy is that he still is a kid. The portrayal of his disability shows how no research was put into being inclusive in either the writing or the art to the point it's downright nonsensical. The research amounts to looking up a sign language dictionary for words and that's it. This isn't even touching on how there was no recognition of the intersection between Black culture and sign language.

The problems with Noah Ikumelo are not unique to Hellblazer, or Si Spurrier or the Hellblazer creative team. They're a reflection of a predominantly able-bodied and white industry that is comics and media as a whole. The very way comics as a medium is taught carries with it an ableist standard for portraying communication. All this to say that tackling a character like Noah would mean doing the extra work to be critical of what we're used to seeing as the norm. But if you were just going to half-ass setting up a party for Black disabled readers, then why even bother y'know? It's not like Spurrier was held at gun point to create a disabled character. Frankly he was too busy crafting scenarios for guns to be pointing at Noah instead.

[kiyo-cant-write]

Welp, I'm kinda back to request the guy again(y'know the RSA Silver anon). Tho you can call me as 🎵 anon. Thanks tho.

So I kinda have some little new idea pop in my head, I got the idea when I read some old scenarios. About Silver and Sebek, having a crush on Yuu. Then tries to fight over Yuu's attention. Just imagine they fight over Yuu and Yuu accidentally getting squish between their chest I mean check their PE uniform card, while they get too busy having a staring competition to notice Yuu got squish. Yuu intensely blushing, probably almost fainting

I hope you don't mind this.

silver and sebek fighting "over" yuu/reader ✧･ﾟ

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Name change initiated, tags updated.

Hello! I don't mind this! I like Silver and the rest of Diasomnia (though my personal bias is Malleus xD) And I hope I interpreted your idea well! My sincere apologies for taking a longer time to get this out, my health is not doing well at the moment.

Note to anyone looking to request that I currently have a very big request for all the first years in the works and it is taking me some time to complete. That said, requests will be slow to go out but are open, actually.

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Summary: [Name] is swept up in an argument between Silver and Sebek Zigvolt during flight class. Were they always this built?

TW/CW: None

Notes: pre-relationship, the reader is described as smaller than Sebek/Silver, the reader is the Ramshackle Prefect/Yuu, they/them pronouns for the reader

Guest Stars: Grim, Malleus Draconia (mentioned)

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Silver & Sebek Zigvolt

Silver did not plan to be in the argument in the first place.

He isn't a very confrontational personality to begin with.

That, and his father raised him better (or he says that).

And meanwhile, Sebek is just Sebek-ing, that's how it starts.

The argument doesn't begin with Malleus but it's sure about Malleus now and Silver kind of wants to punch Sebek.

Sebek throws the first punch and Silver is defending himself.

The two of them are airheads sometimes and forget they're in a joint class and there are people everywhere.

[Name] is smaller than the two of them and ends up caught between them but neither of them cares to notice.

[Full Name] you are about to experience being smooshed between two guys who have trained as guards since childhood.

Sebek is still more or less yelling.

Silver effectively politely conveys "Shut the fuck up."

[Name] and the other students are BAFFLED.

It seemed that it would be a while before this is resolved...

Silver is the one to point out this is a ... position.

Sebek gets offended that Silver is protecting [Name].

But why? WHAT IS THIS HUMAN DOING TO HIM?

Silver chooses to repress his feelings.

Trauma responses or something (Book 7 did things to me)

Then [Name] fainted and both boys began to p a n i c !!

"This is all your fault, Silver!"

"Sebek, be quiet."

Silver's expression might have seemed neutral to anyone in Vargas' PE class who was watching but Sebek recognized this type of expression from his childhood. Silver was glaring daggers at him from his group's area.

But! This was a fight and Sebek would win (for Malleus).

"HOW DARE YOU INSULT WAKA-SAMA?!??" Sebek roared, ignoring the class around him as all of his senses focused on that cat.

It would be good to note that while it was a "fight." it was a fight that Silver did not want to be in. How had it even begun? Silver wasn't sure. He was trying to talk to one of his classmates about something and then Sebek started yelling (really, who decided to let joint classes be with the first years?) and soon after, this had started.

"NYA! WHAT DID YOU SAY EYEBROWS?" Grim fired back at Sebek.

Raised by General Lilia Vanrouge, Silver has some quirks that others are quick to point out. He grew up in Briar Valley, after all. His "human skills" leave much to be desired. Still, Lilia instilled a sense of justice in Silver, and the knowledge that you should not say nasty things about others if they are your friends.

Silver sighed. This was why he decided to keep his thoughts on today's PE incident to himself. It would be better for everyone that way. But his emotions, the ones he tried to ignore, made things harder for him sometimes.

[Name] is being a bit daft, though. Why did they get involved?

As Sebek yelled at Grim, the cat jumped into his human half's arms and caused Sebek to, as he was trying to grab Grim, get much too close to the Prefect (for safety and for Silver to accept).

He sighed again as he took several steps over to the trio and attempted to intimidate Sebek away from [Name].

"Sebek, cease this at once. This is unbecoming," Silver told him, standing just behind the Prefect and staring Sebek down.

"Silver, stay out of this!" Sebek hissed at him, not realizing how close he was to the Prefect, "I need to finish this."

"Malleus-sama would not approve..." Silver continued slowly.

He took a step closer.

"I am doing this for his honor, that cat insulted him!!"

Sebek pushed closer and Silver couldn't mask his irritation. Sebek would not listen to Silver and the light-haired man knew this.

"Even if he did, you're much too close to [Name]," the second-year added.

As each boy moved closer, they had [Name] cornered.

"Are you insinuating that you have some kind of claim over this human?" Sebek asked, nearly scoffing as if insulted by the concept.

"No, I am saying you're too close to them. Be polite."

"Silver, you speak and act so boldly for someone taken in off the streets," Sebek told him, bringing up a longstanding issue between them.

He had to ignore this. It wasn't supposed to be something shared with others, that he was taken in by Lilia, that Lilia was his father.

"This isn't about that. You're being rude."

Silver had never wanted to punch Sebek more than he did at this moment.

Smushed between the two guards, [Name] held Grim close to their chest. They could spell the faint scent of flowers from Silver whereas Sebek smelled like tea. They were able to see now, up close and personally, that Malleus' guards were strong, built young men, not as lean as some of the other students at Night Raven.

A few moments passed as Silver and Sebek attempted to stare each other down, other students beginning to watch the interaction, waiting for a fight to break out. It was a miracle that Vargas did not notice the commotion but he was busy telling some poor student about his great and important very heroic deeds.

"... Grim, I think I am going to die," [Name] whispered to the cat.

Startled, Grim looked up at them with such a sudden motion he jostled their spot between Silver and Sebek slightly.

"Nya?? Don't die, [Name]!!"

But the Prefect could not hear them anymore, they were dead to the world for the foreseeable future. With a bright red face, they looked somewhere between embarrassed and feverish.

"Oh no. [Name], are you okay?"

Silver moved away from Sebek as the green-haired boy did the same. Sebek noticed the state of the Ramshackle Prefect instantly.

"AAH! THE HUMAN NEEDS MEDICAL ATTENTION!!" Sebek shouted

For a moment, Silver wished that Sebek had a volume button he could (politely) turn down. It would save everyone a lot of grief.

All of this attracted the attention of Vargas who whipped around and sprinted over to them, forgetting his discussion of heroism with that poor, poor unsuspecting student.

"Don't yell," Silver told Sebek as he noticed Vargas speeding in their direction, his voice sounding like a whisper in comparison to Sebek's yells.

"HAH? This is all your fault, Silver!"

"Sebek. I said... Quiet down."

Today would be a long day for everyone...

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Imagine the rest for yourself~

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[etherealstar-writes]

I WANNA BE YOURS | LIONESSES X READER | PT 12

pairings: lionesses x reader

summary: in which you're accidentally added to a random group chat, not knowing they're all actually famous footballers, and obliviously end up having many of them competing for your love and attention.

part: twelve

part one here

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

THE NATIONAL DIVING TEAM

the REAL karate kid HOLD ON I FELL ASLEEP AND THIS IS WHAT I WAKE UP TO Y/N BAE WHAT IS THIS 😭

elton OMG LESSI MY MEMES SKILLZ ARE FINALLY RUBBING OFF ON YA

stairway still cannot believe this tho y/n 😔

neev neither 😔

willybum the betrayal 😔

the REAL karate kid y/n just so you know, we are not okay 😔

lotte 😔

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ so um ....

neev Y/NNN YOU'RE ALIVE HOW WAS THE DATE

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ he never showed up got stood up 😔

elton oh

stairway that is so sad

willybum that truly is terrible to hear

the REAL karate kid very sad

neev that really sucks

meado you idiots! atleast be nice and pretend to actually feel bad! ignore them y/n i'm really sorry to hear that he didn't deserve you at all

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ thank you beffy 🥺 it's fine gonna thrive in my single life forever i guess 😔✊

stairway well y/n i'm free tonight 👀

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ so am i 👀

willybum absolutely not we have our semis tomorrow you're not going anywhere

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ that is very unfortunate georgia 😔 maybe one day

stairway 😔

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ you know now that i'm getting better at my woso knowledge do a few of your teammates just not like messaging? bcuz there's a few not on this chat

neev hold on a sec you're right! chloe, esme, kirby, turner and zelem aren't even in the chat

staiway you forgot to add them ??

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ and you guys just realised 😭😭

elton shhhhh i'll add them now

elton added ona batlle

elton oh nuggets

the REAL karate kid HELP

elton i am walking and eating a donut and i accidentally clicked on the wrong person

willybum added katie

willybum do not trust ella to add people to this chat anymore

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ omg hey ona!

kie oh my days

ona batlle hello! :) i am not on the england team?

earpsy you qualify to be here anyway don't ya worry

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ ona, may i just say you are very peng

stairway Y/N.

neev peng 😭😭

ona batlle i am not sure what that means but i can only assume that it is good so thank you!

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ do you think i'm peng?

ona batlle yes sure! of course!

stairway 😐😐

katie ur ugly

elton hey katie! nice to see you too

katie i was talking to you

elton that is not nice

katie neither is being friends with you

elton i am not sure where this attitude has come from

willybum i love this new zelem

katie i hope you fall in the shower

willybum i take that back

katie HAHAHA HELP

neev WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING

katie HAH WILLYBUM THESE NAMES 😭😭 and i'm not katie zelem

meado i cannot believe how you guys keep doing this you added katie mccabe not zelem

elton OMG IT WASN'T ME IT WAS LEAH I DIDNT DO IT THIS TIME

rusty metal you literally added ona earlier ...

willybum changed the name katie to mccard

mccard was that name really necessary? really?

willybum yes.

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ OMG THE KATIE MCCABE ILY

mccard hello y/n ❤️

willybum absolutely not stay away from our y/n mccabe

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ OMG CAN WE ADD STEPH CATLEY TOO I LOVE HER

the REAL karate kid HUH

stairway hey hey hey you're supposed to be the lionesses' biggest fan what is this betrayal

neev yeah 😔😔

mccard added steph

meado STEPHYY hey girl!

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ OMG OMG NO ONE MOVE

steph katie did you add me here to get attacked bcuz i'm aussie? and heyy beffy!

mccard not this time :)

steph national diving time?! help 😭😭

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ omg hi!! ily you're amazing

steph aww thank you y/n!!

stairway look toone what have you done everyone's stealing y/n away from us now

elton how is any of this my fault?!!

the REAL karate kid it is

neev it is

lotte it is

willybum it is

earpsy it is

brightness it is

daily it is

stairway it is

rusty metal it is

meado it is

mccard it is

elton

i hate you all so much

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

part thirteen here

[certifiedsexed]

You know what genital condition hurts worse than anything else I've ever experienced, and I'd never encountered at all before I developed one?

A Bartholin abscess. I feel like it's important for people to know about them; they're painful, debilitating, misunderstood, and often dismissed by non-specialist doctors as 'going away by themselves'. The gynecologist I saw with my most recent one said she treats 20+ of them a week, but nobody talks about them. There certainly weren't any clinic posters talking about them. Plenty about STIs and pap smears, but no Bartholin awareness.

I would encourage anyone who's factory plumbing came with a vagina, or who cares about someone with that plumbing, to put Safesearch or the search engine equivalent on (because the images that pop up are the worst case scenario, and also NSFW if you're at school/in the office) and look into Bartholin cysts and the abscesses that come from them. The wiki page is a good starting point.

If you notice a lump near the opening of your vagina, get medical help. Don't wait and see if it goes away. My first one I was so depressed that I just pretended it wasn't there, and it went from the size of a grain of rice to the size of a peach in under a week. Imagine something the size of a peach under the skin of your inner labia.

These abscesses do eventually rupture and drain, which stops them hurting somewhat though they still have to heal, but until then the sheer size and painfulness impedes walking, sitting, using the toilet, cleaning after using the toilet, and just about everything else. The pain I had was extraordinary and entirely debilitating, I can't understate that. It's an area with a lot of nerve endings and very good blood flow, you know?

The second one I had I started treatment with Flucloxacillin on day two and it didn't get anywhere near as big or as painful. It still hurt a little, got to about the size of a grape, and still popped after about ten days, but I was able to continue working and mostly get along as normal.

I've been told that once you've had one they're likely to come back unless you get medical intervention so it really is key to not ignore them.

Sorry to be hijacking, I know this isn't entirely about sex ed as such, but like... I went to a school in a liberal area with fairly comprehensive sex ed which included frank and open discussions around health and diseases, and I've been around on the internet for a decade since as well, and had never heard of these until I developed one. I'm still recovering from the most recent episode, and really do not want anyone else to sprout one of these and have no idea what's happening or be dismissed by a doctor and not have the knowledge to advocate for themselves.

I don't think this is hijacking at all. I think this' great information to share, thank you! [This is an article about Bartholin cysts/abscesses, for anyone interested.]

[my-castles-crumbling]

This whole time?

Jegulus for the soul. My idiots.

Based on an anonymous request. TW: accidental misgendering, miscommunication, but a happy ending!

He'd been avoiding it for weeks. Ignoring the feeling in his stomach, the nagging of his conscience that was telling him it was time. That if he wanted this to go anywhere, he had to tell him.

Of course, he didn't expect himself to just burst out with it one day.

"I'm trans, James," he practically shouted in the middle of their conversation atop the Astronomy Tower on a random Saturday.

And James, to his credit, just paused and looked over him quizzically.

"You...you're trans?" he asked. Well, he didn't look disgusted or angry, Regulus realized to his intense relief.

"Yes," Regulus murmured, looking down. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I was worried, and-"

"Oh, love," James whispered, eyes wide and adoring. "There's no need to worry. You know I'll always support you. So....this means you're a girl?"

And Regulus's hope, which had previously been hesitantly building up around him, came crashing down. "No," he said, his voice cold. His stomach twisted as the dysphoria grew crawled along his skin.

James blinked, looking thoroughly confused, "But you said-"

But, after receiving the reaction he'd been dreading, Regulus's easy defensiveness flared, and he found himself ranting. "Merlin, I can't believe I thought you'd understand! No, I'm not a girl! I'm a boy, Potter! Just because I'm trans doesn't mean you can suddenly call me a girl! I thought- I thought-!"

James, however, cut him off. "Reg. Wait a second. You've been trans this whole time?"

Regulus reeled, shocked James was so ignorant. "Yes, James! You don't just wake up one day and decide-"

"No! No, I mean-" James laughed, and Regulus wanted to kick him. "I mean, I just...when you said you were trans, I thought you meant you were born a boy. Like, y'know..." he made an awkward gesture to his legs, his fingers curled to make a circle. "I thought you were telling me you wanted to be a girl now!"

Regulus gaped.

James grinned sheepishly. "I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to upset you. I just meant to say, whatever you want to be- boy, girl, whatever- I'll still like you the same, you know? That I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh," Regulus mumbled, shrinking back, relief flooding through him. "So...you're not mad?"

"Reg, I love you," James shrugged, his small smile lighting up Regulus's entire world. "As long as you are happy, that's what I care about."

"I love you, too," Regulus mumbled, tearing up as he said those words for the first time.

Just a note: obviously, James doesn't have the most knowledge on transness, hence some of his comments and actions!

[fiapartridge]

2/2. May I please request something with Jack? His girlfriend being nervous/insecure because not only does she not know his family/team mates/friends etc but she has no prior knowledge/experience with hockey (any sports/sport activities really) and boating etc. Just feeling out of place in a world where her boyfriend and his family are some of the best/most famous. Obviously take this in whatever direction you wish or ignore it. (I come from a family of artistic city people and my only extracurriculars were volunteering at libraries and museums, I am as boring as they come lol)

obsessed | jack hughes

"i'm so obsessed with your ex..."

jack hughes x reader

summary: realizing that you have nothing in common with jack, you start to wonder why he even likes you in the first place.

warning(s): angst with a happy ending, cursing, luke and quinn being dicks sorry lol

fia's note 💌: VERYYY loose interpretation of this request LOL SORRY IF THIS IS ASS okayyy enjoy!

not proofread (i got lazy sorry lol)

You should’ve known what you were getting into once you got into your relationship with Jack. You should’ve known that it would be hard; that dating a hockey player—a famous hockey player—would be hard, but you, for some reason, didn’t let that stop you. During times like these, you wish it did.

“So, Y/N, how’d you get into hockey?” Ellen asked from across the dinner table. You were too busy stuffing your plate to hear, and once the table fell silent, you knew she had asked you something. 

Embarrassed, you set your plate down, taking Jack’s hand instead. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

She laughed, and then the whole table laughed, and you felt your cheeks grow warmer and your body more tense. Was it that bad? “I asked how you got into hockey, honey.”

“Oh,” you smiled, turning to her. “I didn’t really get into hockey until I met Jack,” you said, leaning closer to him as he smiled softly in return. To be honest, you were glad that you hadn’t been into hockey, or any sports in general, prior to meeting Jack. He taught you how to score a goal, how to celly, and even how to take a hit on the ice. (Jack said he was hitting you just how he would any guy, but you knew he didn’t even put a 1/10th of his weight onto you. Then, he called you Hulk for not even realizing how hard it was. You thought he was bluffing; you still do.)

“You don’t play, or skate, or anything?” Jim asked, cutting into his steak and stuffing the small slice into his mouth.

You shook your head. “No, I, um, my family wasn’t really big on any of that.”

Poking his head up, Luke smiled towards Jack as he pointed his fork at the older boy. “Katy knew all about hockey.”

Katy? You tilted your head to Jack, silently asking who Katy was. It was like he was trying to not make eye contact with you, like he was embarrassed. For who? For you? For him? Slipping your hand out from his, you placed both of yours under your thighs, trying to still yourself from shaking. You shook when you were nervous. Jack knew and he was scared—scared that his family was gonna go ahead and ruin it all. 

Sensing your confusion, Luke nodded at you. “Katy was Jack’s girlfriend in high school. Lead scorer in her team’s league. She was legendary. Whatever happened to her, Jack?”

You felt your chest clench, and your hands underneath your thighs weren’t helping anything, and you couldn’t stop bouncing your knee, and Ellen was staring at you again. You just wished they would stop staring at you, like they were waiting for a reaction from you. 

“Luke, shut up,” Jack scolded, trying to grab your hand from under your thigh as you shook your head. You just wanted this to be over. You shouldn’t have agreed to meet his family. You shouldn’t have agreed to be with him. You were never going to be enough; not when there’s Katy; not when he had the most perfect girl for him, and he still chose to break up with her. When was he going to break up with you? Probably after this dinner. Probably after his family tells him that you’re not the one; that you’re not like Katy at all.

“I’m sorry,” you interrupted as Luke was just about to spew his rebuttal. You stood from your chair, laying your cloth napkin on the table as Jack looked up at you with concern. “Um, can I go to the bathroom?”

Quinn laughed. He laughed. He fucking laughed at you.

“Sure, honey,” Ellen smiled, silently scolding Quinn. “It’s in the hallway by the kitchen, third door on the right.”

“Thank you,” you said, not even looking up at anyone before quickly racing to the bathroom. 

Locking the door, you sat on the toilet cover, pulling out your phone, and immediately going to Instagram. He has to be following her. Someone has to be following her. And right when you searched up “Katy” on Luke’s Instagram following, there she was, in all of her hockey glory. The perfect girl. 

She had sandy blonde hair, ocean blue eyes, and she looked at least 5’8, maybe even taller. She wore designer brands that your bank account wouldn’t even allow you to look at, and God, she looked amazing in that dress. But somehow, in some possible way, she looked even better in her hockey gear. She still had posts with Jack in her tags. She’s sitting on his lap at a party, red Solo cups in hand as he stares at her with a look he had never given you. You can see the way she’s loved by everyone around her; the way Ellen holds her like a daughter; how Luke plays games with her like a sister; how Trevor carries her over his shoulder like they’re best friends. You’ve never felt that way with anyone close to Jack.

Even back in New Jersey, every time you went out with the team, you felt like you were just there. Like you were just wasted space. Sometimes you wondered if they even knew your name. You told them plenty of times, but Dawson still asks every time you see him, and Nico still gives you those sad pity smiles, like it’s another reminder that you don’t fit in with Jack and his friends.

Sometimes you even question it. Why are you with Jack? You’re total opposites. He loves hockey, you know nothing about the sport. You think staying in and knitting is fun when his ideal nights are going to parties and getting drunk off his ass. You guys don’t even look good together. You know who he looks good with? Katy. 

Katy. Katy. Katy.

You’ll never be Katy.

“Y/N?” A knock at the door took you out of your spiral as you stared at the wooden slab, too scared to open it and be met with his entire family laughing at you from the hallway. “Baby, it’s Jack. I,” he stammered. “I’m so sorry,” he apologized, his forehead resting on the door in front of him. I lost her, he thought. There’s no coming back from this. She hates me and my family, and I blew it. “I screamed at Luke; he had no right to talk to you like that. And Quinn’s getting yelled at by my mom as we speak. Please just—please let me in.”

Slowly, hesitantly, you opened the door, being met with a distressed Jack whose eyes were red and whose lips were swollen with the amount of chewing he was doing to them. It broke your heart to see him that way, but his family was right. Katy was perfect, and you’re nothing like her.

“Baby,” Jack stepped closer as you took a step back, ripping his heart into pieces. “Y/N.”

“Your family’s right, Jack.” “No, they’re not,” he argued.

You nodded, frowning, and holding back a sob because it felt over. It felt so over. “They are. They are because what do we have in common, Jack? Nothing! We have nothing in common, and everybody sees it! Jack, I—”

“Don’t,” he shook his head. “Don’t say it. Don’t break up with me.”

“Jack—”

“Who the fuck cares?” he exclaimed. “Who cares if we have nothing in common? I like you, I want to be with you, you’re my person! I don’t see that with anyone else.”

Rolling your hand down your face, you let out a tired sigh. “You’re gonna see it, Jack. You’re gonna realize that I’m not your person; that I’m not the one you want; that I’m awkward and boring and don’t get along with anyone you care about, and you’re gonna break my heart. And that’s just how it is.”

“Are you listening to yourself right now? You think I could ever get tired of you? I like you because you’re nothing like my friends, or my family, or anyone I’ve ever dated. I broke up with Katy because her life was just hockey, and my life was just hockey, and everything was just hockey.” Stepping closer, he held your hips as your back hit the sink behind you. “I don’t want my life to be hockey. You’re the part of my life that I need. If I didn’t have you in my life, I think I’d go crazy,” he laughed as you rubbed your sleeve against your wet nose.

“Your friends don’t like me.”

“Fuck them,” he grinned, running his thumbs up and down your waist. “Plus, you haven’t met Coley yet. Think he’d like you more than he likes me.”

“What’s he like?”

“Taylor Swift karaoke—”

“Sold,” you chuckled as he shook his head, smiling at you like you were the only girl in the world, because to him, you were. “So this Katy girl,” you said, raising your eyebrow slyly.

“Is irrelevant,” he answered. “I only have eyes for you, pretty girl.”

[s7toru]

FLAWLESS EXECUTION — GOJO SATORU

in which gojo helps you escape death by recovering your memories the only way he knows how, by taking you out on one last date

warnings & tags: 5.3k, pure fluff if you ignore the ending, mutual pining where the only cockblock is the fact that you're a wanted criminal, profanities, dumb gojo and dumber fem!reader, lukewarm makeout scene, tons of bickering, amnesia plot

an impenetrable fog clouds your thoughts, keeping them apart from sparking and making sense of your situation. with a groan, you lift your head and slowly track your eyes around the unfamiliar room.

white papers with odd symbols decorate all four walls, fluttering ominously despite the lack of wind. you seem to be sitting in a chair, though how you got here and why your hands were being constrained to said chair was a mystery. the position causes your shoulders to ache as your arms are pulled behind you, tucked away using a strong knot. 

with a yank, you attempt to free your wrists but the rope only digs deeper.

"you're awake."

your head snaps up at the sound, locking eyes with the man in front of you, seated in a similar chair to yours. somehow, he makes the chair seem small. his white hair and obnoxious black blindfold is hard to ignore, which makes you wonder how you could have missed the sight of him earlier.

"who are you?" you croak, throat protesting after the lack of use. "where am i?"

"you ask a lot of questions, don't you?"

"are you going to answer any of them?"

"my name is gojo, gojo satoru." the man swings his arms over the front of the chair, leaning forward. "and you're in a waiting room."

"waiting for what?"

"execution."

"what?" the noise escapes you before you can think them through. weren't you just a normal, ordinary citizen last time you checked? there was no way the small shenanigans you got up to in your average life would ever result in a death sentence much less in a filthy, dim lit room such as this one. "listen, i think you have the wrong person. if you let me go now, i won't tell anyone what happened!"

"that's real cute, name, but i definitely have the right person."

you flinch when he says your name. "the worst thing i've ever done is illegally crack games. i'm sorry for doing that, i repent. but don't you think execution is a bit too much?"

"this isn't about your irrelevant gaming addiction. this is about the lives of millions." gojo stands from his seat and you have to crane your head to hold his eyes. "you're name, ex jujutsu student, current rogue sorcerer. on a causal saturday, you annihilated an entire clan albeit an irrelevant one, and now the higher ups of the jujutsu society want you dead. you decided that the best plan of action was to mind manipulate yourself with your curse technique and forget all about it, society and all, living instead as a normal citizen."

he circles around you, whispering the last few words in your ear. "ring any bells?"

you jerk away, wishing your hands were free so you could cup your red ears. "what is wrong with you? and no i don't remember, what is a jujutsu anyway?"

gojo shrugs. "i didn't expect you to remember. your control over your cursed techniques was always really good. as you are right now, you're simply a less interesting shell of who you once were." his hand lightly holds onto your arm and you have to twist your neck to watch.

slowly, he drags his fingers down your arm before stopping at the rope. "now that we have you in our hands again, the higher ups are going to execute you. want to know why?"

"isn't it because you think i'm responsible for ending lives?"

"correct! you're catching on quicker than when you hadn't erased your memory." even though you didn't know the you he was referring to, you still felt insulted on her behalf. "but it's also because you're useless to them in your current state. without knowledge of jujutsu, they have no use for you."

"jujutsu this, jujutsu that, why don't you just let me go before i get the cops on you, you lunatic." you growl.

his finger shakes on your wrist as he laughs. "do you think non-jujutsu people could hurt me?" gojo gives the rope a tug and the knot comes apart, thudding to the floor. your wrist fall at the loss of the ropes and you immediately pull them tight to your chest, scootching to the edge of the chair to place distance between the two of you.

with a newfound caution, you study gojo. "thank you?"

he grins. "no problem."

"didn't you say the authorities wanted me dead? why are you setting me free?"

"you aren't useful to them as you are now, which is why you're set up for death. the simple answer to this situation then, is to pretend like you remember who you are. if you do that, then they can place you on a leash and get you to do their bidding before they get bored and decide to kill you again!"

you stare at him. "so death or later death. those are the options i get?"

"i'm glad you get it!"

you clear your throat. "that's nice and all but—"

with a start, you stand up and grab the legs of the chair, lifting it over your shoulder before throwing it at the suspicious man. you made sure to put all your strength behind it, hoping to dent the ridiculous smile he had on his face.

unfortunately, the chair starts floating in the air.

with the chair in the way, gojo sulks. "that wasn't very friendly of you."

"the, the chair! it's floating? how are you doing that?" you babble mindlessly. there's only one conclusion you can reach. "you're magic."

"i'm jujutsu, technically." gojo gestures with his fingers and the chair settles back comfortably on the ground. "shall we have a talk? without any thrown chairs?"

there's a silence whilst you judge your options. there was a door in the room, obviously, but the fact gojo wasn't guarding it made you uncertain. and, you'd seen him stop a chair in the air with his mind alone. he was no longer a person you wanted to deal with.

you look back and sit on the chair he was sitting at earlier, and he rests on yours. you clear your throat, pressing your knees together and bringing your hands into your lap in hopes to appear smaller under his gaze. “sorry.”

“you’re oddly timid.”

“well,” you hesitate. “you’re magic.”

“it’s jujutsu.” he clarifies again. “and you’re made of it too. that’s how you massacred a family clan twenty one days ago and how you wiped your memory five days after that.”

“you’re saying all this but i really can’t imagine myself doing that.”

"can you imagine yourself doing anything?"

you open your mouth to question his strange words, then close it abruptly. under the spotlight, you couldn't fathom an image of your person. there were vague ideas, like the fact you had been working cooperate before this incident, or the fact that you had a cute little kitten waiting in your single apartment, but details about your likes or interests were blurry.

you swallow, but it's uncomfortable and your mouth is dry. "seriously?" you whisper. "i did all that?"

something on his face falls before he picks it up. "cheer up, name! that's why i'm assigned to your case. all you have to do is follow my orders and i'll get your memories back one way or another!"

"and the whole execution thing?"

he's still smiling as he say, "we'll work it out when we get there."

whatever comfort you felt at his previous words dissipates. "that sounds reassuring."

"doesn't it?" gojo seem oddly proud of his words. "now, you understand the gist of the situation, yes?"

"you all have it out to get me?" you murmur, somehow bitter.

"yes, and the only thing standing between you and death is your technique. and me. all you have to do is pretend you've reversed your technique on yourself and allow yourself to be used by the society. while that's happening, i'll help you actually get your memories back."

"and how will you do that?" you narrow your eyes at him. "did we know each other before the whole, you know, incident?"

"i was also a student back then. with you."

you scan him under a different perspective. "were we close, back then?" you ask.

gojo doesn't give an immediate answer. in fact, his entire body suddenly becomes rigid and his relaxed posture gives way to looking awkward.

"or not?" you murmur under your breath, looking away and clearing your throat to cover up the pause. that was embarrassing.

"we were close." gojo finally says after a moment's silence. "yeah, we were pretty close, huh."

something about his words make you think it's less that he's talking to you, rather that he was talking to himself.

it was his turn to clear his throat, readjusting his facial features to look joyful again. "you have so many questions, name. i can go through each and every one of them, but after you make your decision. it'll be useless to know all this information if you're just going to die here, after all."

"let's not get ahead of ourselves here, i don't even trust you yet. what makes you think you can recover my memories?"

that same, sad smile. "i found you again, didn't i?"

gojo doesn't elaborate on his words, allowing them to sit in the air.

there was something heavy in your chest. the entire time the two of you had been speaking, you've felt it like a persistent ache. yearning might be a word to describe it, but it was stronger, more intense, an innate emotion that kept your eyes on his. somehow, you knew his eyes would be the most brilliant blue. the thought left you curious, and before you could think it through, you were already making up your decision.

"i'll do as you say." you whisper, finally.

you shove the crepe in your mouth and hum in delight as the delicious aromas of chocolate and powdered sugars surround you. the steady bustle of the cafe moves all around you and there's a kind of comfort that comes from watching the world continue, even when you yourself had stopped moving. 

gojo watches you, sipping absentmindedly at his hot chocolate, doused in chocolate syrup and wearing a heaping of whipped cream. it’s untouched and you find such a sight a rarity, though you’re not sure why. "when i said to tell me something that might recover your memory, i thought you'd say something like seeing a family member, or visiting your workplace. not go out to get a crepe."

you lick chocolate off your finger. "you must have kidnapped me before i had breakfast because all i can think about is sugar right now." 

“whatever, just hurry up. clearly, it's not doing anything for you and there’s nothing good about this place except for its crepes.”

“and god are the crepes good.” 

he makes a face at your words, chewing at his straw. 

“are you sulking?” 

“no. are you ever going to finish that crepe or do i have to jump in and help you?”

“so you are sulking.” you hold out your crepe to him, offering the dessert with a smile. “i’m sure you’ll feel better if you take a bite.”

gojo blinks before leaning forward, taking a massive chomp and chasing after a dribble of nutella as it drips out. he misses, and it lands just above his lip. 

you giggle as he licks it up. “well?”

“i guess i do feel better.” 

your laughter cuts short, crepe pausing halfway to your mouth. "that felt way too natural."

gojo doesn't say anything, pretending to take his time chewing the mouthful of crepe he stole from you. you give him a skeptical look before returning to the more important task of figuring where the next bite should be.

should you take the bite along the edge where there was less filling? it would ensure your next bite would be the best, abundant with powdered sugar, banana and nutella. or should you take the mediocre bite near the middle making your next bite similarly mediocre? before you can make up your mind, gojo's face drops down close to yours and scarfs down the entire thing.

you cry out but the damage has been done. you hadn't even noticed him standing from his seat and heading over to you.

gojo pulls back, humming appreciatively, and wipes a thumb to catch the residue on his lips. "now that i've tried it, they really are good."

"my crepe!"

"i think a strawberry crepe would go crazy right about now."

"my crepe!"

gojo gives you a funny look. "yes, i heard you the first time."

"then you'd know that i'm furious right now!" you stand up too, intending to appear intimidating. "you ate my crepe! all of it!"

"you had a few bites."

"it wasn’t enough." you growl.

a grin splits across his face. "i hear desserts taste better when they're shared."

"whoever said that was idiotic." something in his smile makes you pause. slowly, you draw your finger up and point it to your chest. "me?"

he nods.

"oh." you crumble up the napkin in your hands, the one that once held your beloved crepe, and toss it into a nearby bin. it goes in easily, and you wonder if you had been athletic before the incident. "what were we doing eating desserts together?"

looking up, gojo was already at the door.

you hurry to catch up to him. "hey! i wasn't finished talking yet!"

"i'm taking things into my own hands." he says, strolling down the sidewalk with a confidence that has you following after. "you're not going to find your memories at the end of a crepe."

"i might." you huff, settling at a comfortable pace beside him. "so? where are we headed?"

he scans the streets in silence.

it was midday, if the bright, hot sun was any indication, and a weekend at that meaning the sidewalks were busy with excited high schoolers seeking a break and partners bonding in their quality time, holding hands and giggling amongst themselves. you peek down at gojo's empty hand and wonder why you can imagine the grooves and bumps of his fingers.

"the game arcade across the road." gojo says suddenly, and you blink away the temptation. "it was your favourite."

"claw machines." you breathe out. "even without my memories i think i remember the sensation of losing my sanity to small plushies."

"looks like i made the right choice then." gojo grins down at you, stopping at a crossing. the red light flickers to green and the accompanying beeping tells you to move, but gojo stays still.

you tilt your head at him. "something wrong?"

he pauses before shaking his head. "nothing. come on, hurry up! the arcade might close before you even step inside."

"you're the one looking like a deer caught in headlights."

"do you like deers?"

"what?"

"deers. do you fancy them?"

you blink at him. "they're cute."

a smirk splits across his face. you might be imagining it, but gojo's stride is somehow bouncier, full of energy, but you find it isn't distasteful.

as you enter, you're surprised to finding no one looking at the both of you. sure, at first sight you hadn't noticed anything off about gojo's attire but after staring at him for so long, you wonder why it was that not a single person was pointing and laughing at his ugly navy outfit. it didn't help that he was tall, towering over you as he slides a coin into the machine, and that he adorned a thick blindfold over his eyes. surely, he would be a sight that garnered attention.

"gojo." you start, maneuvering the joystick over the plushie that had caught your eye. "why isn't anyone making fun of you?"

he doesn't say anything for a while as you play. "what? why would they?"

you spare his a doubtful look. "i mean, look at you."

"what does that mean? name, use your words."

"you're not very conventionally dressed." you put it lightly.

"i think this uniform looks great on me!"

the claw misses the plushie by a large margin, and you pretend you don't hear gojo laugh. gritting your teeth, you slide in your own coin and readjust the claw. "you look terrible, like you're wearing a cosplay."

"it's the jujutsu uniform, we're all made to wear it."

"damn." you mumble, paying just enough attention to reply. the small strawberry cow plush stares into your soul, telling you that this attempt would be the one to take it home. you listen to its calling, bumping the joystick towards it. "i must have looked pretty terrible in that, then."

"you looked great." a pause. "i mean, you still do."

your hand suddenly twitches, bumping into the claw and sending it down into the pit prematurely. swearing, you watch as it inevitably misses the plushie you had been eyeing and grabs a whole clawful of nothing but air.

gojo whistles. "even without your memory, you're still as terrible. i thought losing your memories would turn you to a different person, guess you're still the same terrible player i once knew."

you whip your head to look at him. "what did you say before?"

"you're shit at the game?"

"that's not what you said. and no i'm not, you just messed me up, is all."

he's wearing that irritating smirk again and you hate how attractive you find him. "i bet i could do better."

you cross your arms, stepping back. "you’re free to try.”

unfortunately, he really is good. there’s an ease in his fingers you had lacked, a type of inherent skill that allows him to grab plushie after keychain after more plushies. at the end of it, your arms are full of every stuffed toy you could ever want, and every machine has been touched by his talented hands at least once. face framed by the heads of all of gojo’s wins, you glare at him. it pisses you off.

“whatever.” you say.

“so, still think you’re better?” gojo dangles two keychains around his finger, the sanrio characters bumping into each other as they spun. your eyes track the movement. 

“fine, you can have this win. i won’t uncover whatever cheat you used to get so many.” 

“you still can’t admit when you’ve lost.”

you huff, looking away. “i didn’t lose.” you say, but it doesn’t manage to convince even yourself. 

something flies at you and instinct has you stretching out your arms, balancing the plushies using the bend of your elbow, catching the small object easily. when you open up your palm, the small sanrio keychain stares up at you with black, beady eyes. 

you flash gojo a look and find him holding up his own keychain, the sanrio characters wearing matching sailor outfits. even though your arms are full of prizes, the tiny keychain feels the heaviest in your hands. “what’s up with you? haven’t you given me enough already?” a smile threatens to escape, but you bite down on your lip. 

gojo shrugs, trying to look nonchalant. “they’re matching.” he says, as if it wasn’t obvious enough. “my students would make fun of me if i came back with these. so i’ll just give this one to you.” 

warmth overflows in you and you laugh. “looks like you still can’t admit to being cheesy.”

he doesn’t join in and your chuckles trail off, somewhat uncertain. worried that you had offended him, you sneak a peek at his expression and find him looking strangely perplexed.

something was dawning on you, and it was dawning quickly, threatening to ram into your mind and dump three years worth of memories into your brain, him in the centre of it all.

before you can breathe out the conclusion you’ve reached, the glass window at the front of the arcade shatters, and your body dodges to the side just as something flies out at you. unlike what gojo had thrown at you moments ago, this was a less appreciated move. 

gojo hisses out a curse, reaching out to grab your hand. “we need to go.” 

there’s a sense of urgency in his voice you don’t dare to disobey, so you quickly push your pile of plushies into the arm of a confused bystander, ensuring the single sanrio keychain remains in your pocket. “what’s going on?” you ask over the chaos. 

“i lied.”

“what?”

the two of you dance around the aisles, avoiding the window as much as possible. at the off chance you’re able to glance out past the shattered glass, you make out a dark figure crouched on a building opposite to the arcade, a small red light shining from their position. customers had gathered around the front, whispering amongst themselves and you feel a spike of danger. “gojo, we need to help!”

“they’re after you, name. and jujutsu techniques won’t hurt non-jujutsu citizens, the only person you should worry about is yourself.” gojo clarifies, dragging you out into the street. “they want you dead.”

his hand squeezes yours in emphasis and you wonder why it felt so natural to squeeze back. instead of bringing it up, you say, “but i thought i had time! i thought i just needed to remember…”

gojo drags you into another building, free hand pulling out a phone. “damnit.” he was muttering to himself. “they weren’t meant to realise i broke you out so quick.” 

it falls into place in an instant. the jujutsu society had never intended to give you a chance, your execution was determined the moment your body was brought to that small, ominous room, your fate sealed when the door closed shut behind you. but gojo had other plans. he had taken you out, given you one more day with him.

and then what? you wonder. what were you to him that he would go to such lengths and betray those higher? this wasn’t the time to confront your newfound memories, but you do so anyway, squeezing your eyes shut as gojo leads you further in, embracing the rush of comfort you feel as your cursed technique loosens its grip on your soul and you remember.

three years flash past your eyes, of late night slumber parties in getou’s room watching horror movies tucked under his doona, of convenience store icecream and breaking icepoles apart perfectly, of one summer night where gojo had pulled you aside, awkwardly confessing one day early simply because you had looked so pretty under the moonlight, and the teasing cheers shoko and getou had echoed when you rejoined them. the memories come faster now, and every single one is with him. 

until they don’t, until it all halts and ends in a room covered in blood. 

you gasp painfully, pulling your hand back from his to clasp at your head. you're whole again, ambitions, love, memories and all.

gojo pauses almost immediately, looking back at you with concern. “name? hey! name, what’s wrong?” 

“satoru.” you seek comfort in his name, and relish in the familiarity of saying his name. “i think i—”

he catches you as you stumble forward though there’s no time to stand around because the both of you sense your pursuers hot on your heels. you tune your technique to the employees within the office building and skim through their memories. the layout of the block sketches out across your mind, and you grab onto gojo’s hand, ignoring his words of concern as you pull him towards where you know there will be less people. “i’m fine, but not for long if we stay here. this way.”

you drag gojo around the corner, and find yourself staring at a dead end. panicked, you glance around for anything, really anything that you could hide behind, and find nothing.

"name—"

your eyes catch a door and with relief, you rush over. "satoru, in here!" he follows wordlessly, entering the storage cupboard with only the slightest hesitation, and watches as you wiggle in yourself, slamming the door behind you.

his breath tickles your forehead and you lean into his chest, telling yourself that you didn't want to be pressed against the door if it is ever thrown open by your pursuers.

gojo breathes out your name again, low so as to avoid being heard from anyone but you. “back up a little.”

“sorry.” you mumble into his chest, but there’s little space to step back.

even though he had told you to place distance between the two of you, his arm hovers on your lower back, and he clears his throat before saying, “you’re calling me satoru again.” 

you curse him. “is this the right time to be talking about this?” you glance over your shoulder to try and sense your pursuers but gojo grabs your chin, turning it back to face him.

"forget about that, look at me."

"i'm looking and let me tell you i am not impressed." you shake off his hold. "we can reunite later, right now we need to—"

"i missed you."

you almost break your neck spinning around.

your lips quiver, struggling to hold back a stupid smile. "are you serious right now? you're doing this here?"

“well.” gojo starts. something in his voice makes you look at him, look at him properly. you can’t make out the direction of his gaze past the blindfold, but you’re suddenly conscious of his lips as they part to speak. you watch as his tongue sweeps his bottom lip, out of nerves perhaps, and maybe he’s watching you just as intently because they stretch into a smirk. 

you aren’t able to revel in the sight because his lips crash onto yours in an instant, and instincts take over to reciprocate the kiss. gojo’s hand finds purchase in your hair, fingers tangled in your strands, and his other tightens around your waist, pulling you even closer. you can only vaguely feel this happen, too immersed in the feeling of his lips and tongue against yours. you press up against his chest and run your hands up his nape just the way he’s admitted to liking before. 

he tries to utter your name but it’s swallowed up by a groan. there’s a hunger in you that you doubt could be fulfilled today, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. 

you yelp as his tongue sweeps a sensitive spot in your mouth, and you almost whine when you feel him pull back, slightly. 

“sorry, are you sure you remember—” gojo starts, and you see his frown through bleary eyes.

you don’t let him finish, reaching up to continue the kiss, muttering a quick “please” in hopes that he will understand your need. he pulls you closer, parting your legs with his knees. 

when the two of you break away, you’re panting for air.

gojo tenderly brushes a strand of hair from your face. “does this mean you remember me?” he asks, voice hoarse, lips swollen, fingers lingering on your cheek. 

you resist the urge to kiss him stupid, and laugh instead. “would i  have kissed you otherwise? of course i remember.” the memories were overwhelming you still, and the emotions you feel carry over until the present you feels it too, smiling up at him like a lunatic.

he’s beaming from ear to ear, and you think he might go in for another kiss, but he drops his head onto your shoulder instead. “you don’t know how annoyed i am at you.”

running your hands through his hair, you hum. “why’s that?”

“you left me! and the worst way possible too, you know i still have trauma from getou.” 

“i had no choice.” 

“you could have taken me with you.” 

you fiddle with his ear. “your future’s too bright. you could, well, can, do better than wherever i shackle you to. i couldn’t drag you down with me. and hey, you found me anyway.” 

gojo straightens. “right, and now we’re being chased by some of the best jujutsu sorcerers and they want my lover dead.”

“i have you, aren’t you the strongest?” 

he lets that compliment settle on his shoulders before shaking his head. “i’m trying to tell you that you made a mistake. don’t you feel even the slightest remorse for leaving me?” 

you go on your tip-toes to give him a quick peck, but nothing that’ll last any longer. “of course i do, that’s why i left you the address to my apartment. but this is just the start, you know it too.” even now, you can feel the persistent cling of someone's cursed energy seeking you out.

he follows you after you pull back, and you should have none something like a peck wouldn't be enough to satisfy his longing.

gojo slides his hand into yours, and gives it a painful squeeze. pulling you close, he presses his lips fiercely against yours again, pushing past your weak defenses to savour you completely. it's hopeless, this kiss, all desperation and sorrow, and you taste your own regret in his mouth. but it can't change anything, no matter how hard he grips your cheek, no matter how painful he imprints his mouth against yours.

it's hopeless.

"satoru, you need to let me go." you mumble into the kiss, feeling his will break in your arms. 

your lips part with a pop and when he looks at you it's clear he's annoyed. "again."

"yeah, again."

"you have to understand why i don't want to do that, name." he says through gritted teeth. as if to emphasise, his fingers dig deeper into your wrists.

the sounds of footsteps thud faster, and the sensation of someone’s cursed energy radiates throughout the entire building, overwhelming and threatening you to come out. you didn’t sense anyone in the corridor yet, but that won't always be the case, it was only a matter of time, so you wriggle out of his hold, intent on running.

he catches your hand again, still frowning. "name."

"satoru, i'll find you, i promise."

he doesn't answer, his expression says enough.

you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, having been already raw from before , feeling your own reluctance to part like a throbbing ache. but if a little heartbreak was enough to stop your ambitions, you wouldn't have killed that first person way back when. “i'm going to kick down the door." you say.

gojo clicks his tongue, shaking his head shortly after. "you never stop and listen to me."

"maybe give me advice i'd take and i will." you smile to show there's no hard feelings.

he chuckles humourlessly and runs a hand through his hair, "fine, we'll do it your way. just like we always do then?"

"of course."

your countdown doesn’t come out as enthusiastic as it could have, but your body moves as you utter “three”, kicking open the door and rushing out. the door slams into the face of a sorcerer, and you wince at the sound. 

gojo walks around, holding off another pursuer. he glances back at you, reluctance obvious. “hurry.” he says, and you wonder if the urgency is due to the onslaught of sorcerers or from the thinning of his patience and his desire to chase after you. 

you give him a smile because you know the answer. running to the exit, you give him one last glance and find him staring. you reach into your pocket and pull out the keychain he’d won from you earlier, and bring it to your lips. 

“i’ll find you this time.” you mouth. 

giving up, gojo nods and turns back to deal with the attackers.

you leave him as you did the day society had forced your hand, though this time with your memories in tact. if that was the case, finding each other again would be an easy task.

you let your heart be comforted by this thought as you run. 

a/n: we almost dodged the angst ending and it would have ended with "just like we used to :smirk:?" "just like we used to... heh"