#some people just live in a completely different world

[gojougf]

love me not .ೃ࿔ gojo satoru

synopsis ╰┈➤ pining over your best-friend's brother for as long as you can remember actually did work out in your favour!

wc: 6.1k

warnings: shameless smut bc i was deprived of having the best friend's older brother experience, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, fingering, mentions of getting pregnant, mentions of food, fem reader, angst if you squint really really really hard.

a/n: this is a remake of a geto fic i wrote last year on ao3 when i was missing tumblr bc i had to visit my home country, and tumblr is actually banned there.. so in the offchance you did read my fic on ao3 (it has like 1k hits so you probably haven't) this is the same author lol! my writing lowkey sucked back then. english is also not my first language so I apologise if there are any grammatical errors or mistakes. not proofread so if it does say suguru's name or describes his attributes instead of satoru it is not my fault ok ( ´ ω ` )

You rolled over, stomach aching with hunger, as you listened to the slow, steady breathing of your best friend. The dim glow of the clock read 3:25 AM. With a sigh, you stared at the dark ceiling, unable to ignore the gnawing emptiness in your stomach any longer.

It was your sleepover with Ami, but an ill-timed nap during dinner had left you feeling both restless and starving. Giving in, you quietly tiptoed out of the room and made your way to the kitchen, hoping there were some leftovers from the meal you and Ami had prepared earlier.

Switching on your phone’s flashlight, you barely stifled a scream when a dark figure loomed in the kitchen. Your heart slammed against your ribs as the figure turned, moonlight catching sharp eyes—ones that, even through your panic, you recognized instantly.

"Y/N? What’re you doing here?"

The deep, sleep-roughened voice of Gojo Satoru, Ami’s older brother, filled the silence. He spoke through a mouthful of Oreos, crumbs clinging to his lips. You exhaled shakily, quickly turning off your flashlight.

"I—uh, I was hungry and couldn’t sleep," you admitted, staring at anything but him. "Thought I’d grab some of the leftovers."

Your heart still pounded in your chest, but now for an entirely different reason.

You had known Gojo Satoru for as long as you could remember. Through every phase, every milestone, every moment of your friendship with Ami—he had always been there. Not always present, but there. Three years older, confident, effortlessly cool. While Ami was open and fiery, Gojo was just as lively—charming, talkative, always the center of attention. He had a way of making people feel at ease, flashing his easygoing grin and slipping effortlessly into conversation. But with you, it was different. With you, he was distant. Playfully dismissive at best, indifferent at worst, like you were the only person in the world he had no interest in figuring out.

And yet, despite his distant nature, one undeniable truth remained: you had been hopelessly in love with him for years.

Only two people in the world knew this—Ami and your diary.

You still remember the first time you saw him. Fourteen-year-old you had been completely mesmerized by the sight of Ami’s older brother—the ivory, icy hair, so similar to his sisters (you’d always called them Elsa’s siblings) the shirts he’d wear that did little to hide the toned body he had began building once he started hitting the gym, biceps filling the sleeves, and the way the muffled sound of his electric guitar filtered through the walls when you and Ami were in her room. You had been too shy to even approach him, content to admire him from afar, heart pounding at every accidental brush of his arm when he passed by.

Your infatuation had been so painfully obvious that Ami had once turned to you, deadpan, and asked, "Do you like my brother?"

You stammered, cheeks burning, only for her to roll her eyes and say, "I don’t care, do whatever you want."

But wanting had never been enough.

Over the years, you had tried—desperately—to get his attention. Push-up bras you had no business wearing at sixteen. Cherry-flavored lip gloss, tiny shorts, stolen tank tops from your older sister. Cute bikinis on beach trips with Ami, hoping his gaze would linger just a second too long. But he never looked. Never really looked. To him, you were just his little sister’s friend.

Seventeen-year-old you had given up entirely.

Especially when you saw the other girls.

The ones he did look at. The ones he brought home late at night, holding them close as they giggled against his shoulder, their hands roaming across his tall, lean frame. The ones who disappeared into his room, only for you to hear muffled noises through the walls no matter how hard you tried to ignore them.

"Give up already," Ami had told you bluntly one night, rolling her eyes. "My brother’s a whore."

Now, at twenty, with college life keeping you busy, Gojo Satoru has become little more than a distant, bittersweet memory. You had forced yourself to move on, burying that old crush deep in the past where it belonged.

But then, summer came.

And Satoru was back.

Home for a few weeks, lounging around the house like he owned the place. Teasing Ami relentlessly, getting on her nerves while you stood awkwardly by, watching the two siblings bicker. Occasionally, he would drag you into the conversation—just to fluster you, just to see you squirm.

At most, your only real interactions with him had been when he gave you and Ami a ride to school in his car or when he felt like helping with your math homework. Even then, it was never just help. It was teasing Ami for her awful math skills, then turning to you with a smug grin and exaggerated praise, just to make her mad.

You told yourself it meant nothing.

It had to mean nothing.

And yet, as you stood there in the dimly lit kitchen, watching him casually eat Oreos under the moonlight, you couldn’t ignore the way your pulse quickened.

Like that fourteen-year-old girl was still somewhere inside you, heart still foolishly hoping.

You stood there awkwardly, stomach no longer the only thing in knots. This was the first time you’d ever been alone with Gojo Satoru, and suddenly, you had no idea what to do with yourself.

"You want some Oreos?"

He pushed the half-empty packet toward you from across the counter, chewing lazily on one himself. "Oh—uh, thanks." You took one, feeling a little ridiculous as you nibbled at the edge. Turning away, you busied yourself with the microwave, searching for the tacos you and Ami had left behind earlier. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the way Satoru raised an eyebrow. You weren’t exactly being subtle about your discomfort.

"Are you scared of me or something?" His voice was teasing, but there was curiosity behind it. "You never talk to me." You turned, startled by his bluntness. "I’m not scared of you," you said quickly. "I just… don’t really know what to talk to you about." He let out a low, breathy laugh at that, and warmth spread through your body at the sound. God, why did he have to sound like that?

"Oh, really?" he mused. "I’ve known you for years, and this is the first time we’ve actually had a conversation without Ami around." You didn’t have a response for that, so you focused on the tacos instead, pulling them from the microwave and settling onto a chair near the countertop.

Satoru snickered, shaking his head as he turned to the fridge. He rummaged through it with his broad back to you, the muscles of his shoulders shifting beneath his tank top. Your gaze drifted downward, trailing from the taper of his waist to the way his sweatpants hung low on his hips. His icy hair was gleaming under the dim light of the fridge, looking pristine even at such an absurd hour in the night. With a small flustered twinge in your chest you noticed how he had an undercut now— why’d he look more.. delectable than usual? Were you ovulating?

He turned back around, holding a container of leftover cake. You quickly looked away, flustered. "You like strawberry cake, don’t you?" He cut two slices, sliding one toward you. You blinked in surprise. "How do you know that?"

He smirked at your expression. "Ami mentioned it once. When she threw you that surprise party for your 16th birthday." Your breath caught. That was nearly four years ago. You hadn’t even thought he knew about that party, let alone remembered such a small detail about you.

Heart fluttering, you took a bite of the cake, trying to push down the giddy feeling creeping up your spine. Slowly, the tension between you began to ease. Satoru was surprisingly easy to talk to—charming, even. He started sharing embarrassing stories about Ami, making you laugh so hard you had to cover your mouth to muffle the sound. You learned that he wasn’t as distant as you had always thought—if anything, he was naturally outgoing, effortlessly getting along with everyone. Everyone except you, or so it had always seemed. But now, as the conversation flowed and you found unexpected common ground, you realized he wasn’t avoiding you—he just never had a reason to talk to you. Until now. You also learned that he had a lot more in common with you than you expected. He was into photography, filmmaking, and music composition, even studying music at university.

What started as a midnight snack turned into hours of conversation. Before you knew it, the sky was shifting from black to a soft, early-morning blue. 

"Never knew you were this cool, Y/N." 

You tried not to visibly preen at his words, fighting to keep your composure. "So you didn’t think I was cool before?" you teased. He rolled his eyes dramatically. "C’mon, you know what I mean." Then, more casually, he added, "You should hang out with me sometime. I could show you some of my short films, if you’re interested." Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could stop yourself, you nodded—a little too eagerly.

He chuckled, eyes crinkling. But then, for the first time that night, his gaze flickered—down. Just briefly. You caught the way his eyes lingered at the neckline of your flimsy sleep shirt before snapping back up to meet yours.

A shiver ran down your spine.

But before you could overthink it, Satoru stretched, gave you a lazy grin, and bid you goodnight before heading back upstairs. When you finally slipped back into bed next to Ami, she was still sound asleep, completely unaware of your absence. You buried your face in the pillow, heart pounding.

You had definitely caught him looking.

And just like that, your years-old crush was back in full force.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

A few days later, you were back at Ami’s house, waiting for her to return from running errands. You plopped onto the couch, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly, when footsteps coming down the stairs caught your attention. You looked up.

Satoru.

His white hair was falling into his eyes, loose strands framing his sharp features, and the compression shirt he wore clung to his torso in a way that wasn’t helping your thoughts at all. 

"Oh, hey," he greeted, blinking at you in mild surprise. "You waiting on Ami?"

"Yeah, she said she’s gonna be late, though. Not sure how long."

"Damn." He stretched lazily. "I was about to head to the gym, but they’re closed today." You nodded, pretending to focus on your phone again, even though all you could think about now was him at the gym. Then, his voice broke through your thoughts.

"You wanna come up to my room?" Your head snapped up. He was watching you, eyes unreadable, a small smirk playing on his lips. Your stomach flipped. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head at his suggestion, your face turning toward him with a slight pink dusting your cheeks.

“What? Go to your room?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Satoru raised an eyebrow, a smirk twitching at his lips. “Yeah, you said you’d be interested in seeing some of my short films for my college projects. Want me to show you some? Seeing as we both have nothing else to do.” There was a certain teasing lilt to his voice, his sharp eyes taking in your flustered state with amusement.

“Oh.”

Realization struck, and you cursed yourself internally for how obviously thrown off you sounded. Really, it wasn’t your fault—you were a newly minted adult, and your hormones were practically waging war against your common sense. Still, you nodded, standing up alongside him, hyper aware of just how much taller he was. That ever-present smirk never left his face as he led you to his room, clearly entertained by your reaction.

The moment you stepped inside, you realized this was the only space in Ami’s house you hadn’t properly explored. You’d caught glimpses before—grabbing a charger or returning something Ami had borrowed—but never had you taken the time to actually look around. It was surprisingly neat, with the exception of his desk, which was cluttered with scattered papers and notebooks. A few posters lined the walls, his bed was made, and the entire space carried the familiar scent of his cologne.

“You can sit if you’d like. It’ll take me a second to find the files,” he said, gesturing to the bed as he made his way to the desk.

You hesitated before sitting down, instantly taking in just how much stronger the scent of his cologne was here. His bed, his pillows—everything was drenched in it. You briefly considered asking him what brand he used before dismissing the thought as too weird.

As Satoru rummaged through his laptop, you let your eyes drift to his back. The black compression shirt he wore hugged his broad shoulders, the fabric straining slightly each time he moved. You wonder what it would feel like putting your ankles on them while he– stop! Your gaze traveled lower, to his tapered waist, the way his sweatpants hung low on his hips—

You shook your head quickly, mentally chastising yourself for where your thoughts were heading. You crossed your legs in an attempt to ground yourself, tugging at the hem of your skirt in the process. As if sensing your discomfort, Satoru glanced back at you before giving you a small, teasing smile.

“M’not gonna bite, you know. You can sit comfortably,” he muttered, his attention half on the laptop.

“I-I know,” you mumbled, shifting slightly.

With that same lazy smirk, he returned his focus to the screen, fingers moving effortlessly across the keyboard. You watched them for a second too long—his hands were large, his nails neatly trimmed, his fingers long and dexterous. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus on the files he was pulling up rather than imagining sucking on his fingers.

“Aha,” he mumbles. “Found it.”

He clicks on a small folder icon, opening a three-minute video that plays like a cinematic trailer. You watch, both curious and impressed, as the screen fills with warm, golden hues—the entire short film has an almost Sufjan Stevens-esque aesthetic, shot on a beach at sunset. A man with dark long hair with striking amethyst eyes and a stunning woman with short, rust coloured hair (you ignore the tiny pang of jealousy at the fact that she got to work with Satoru) move through the scenes, their story unfolding in quiet gestures and lingering glances.

“The theme was ‘how love is shown through actions rather than words,’” he explains casually, glancing at you.

You look at him, thoroughly impressed. Even in such a short film, the theme is so carefully and beautifully portrayed through small, thoughtful details. You’d always assumed Satoru would lean toward thriller, or perhaps comedy, something packed with action. But this—this careful, deliberate depiction of love through unspoken moments—only deepens your admiration for him.

“I can tell,” you breathe out, taking in the last frames of the trailer. “It’s really beautifully made.”

A small, pleased smile tugs at his lips as he closes his laptop.

“The actors are beautiful, too. It adds to the mood of the film,” you add softly, glancing at him.

Satoru laughs—a smooth, melodic sound that makes your stomach flip.

“Those are two of my best friends. Suguru and Shoko,” he says. “Getting Shoko to agree was the hard part—she’s not into guys, but I knew her face had the exact look I wanted for this. She didn’t mind pretending to be with Suguru, but I did have to bribe her with a pack of cigarettes to make up for it.” He grins, amused at the memory.

You laugh too, feeling a strange sense of relief at his words. So Shoko wasn’t even into Satoru. Not that it should matter, but—well. She was gorgeous. You could admit that much. If you weren’t completely, hopelessly in love with Satoru, you might have tried hitting her up yourself.

He leans back against his pillow, elbow propped up to hold his head, watching you with lidded eyes and a lazy smile. You curse yourself for turning pink under his gaze. Shifting slightly, you fold your legs underneath you, adjusting your skirt as it rides up just a little. His eyes flicker downward, tracking the movement, before darting back up to your face.

You suddenly feel the weight of the atmosphere, hyper aware of the way his presence fills the room. Your gaze flits away, scanning the walls, the desk—anywhere but him.

“Um, I think I should go. Ami’s probably almost h—”

Your words cut off as Satoru’s large, warm hand closes gently around your wrist.

His lips curve into something unreadable, his dark eyes holding yours. “You know,” he murmurs, voice low, “I know about your little crush on me.”

Your stomach drops.

You don’t know whether to go pale or burn up entirely, but it feels like something in between.

“Wh—what?” You barely manage to force out the word. “Who said that? I don’t have a crush on you.”

He gives you a knowing look, rolling his eyes playfully. “C’mon, you think I wouldn’t notice?” He shifts slightly closer, and the warmth of his cologne—sandalwood and something rich you can’t name—fills your senses. “It’s so obvious. How did you think I wouldn’t know?”

Your breath catches as he reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face with an easy familiarity. You blink at the gesture, suddenly feeling absurdly close to tears.

He notices. His expression softens as he wipes at the corner of your eye with his thumb.

“Why’re you crying, pretty?” He murmurs.

“I—I don’t know,” you stammer. “I thought—I thought you’d find me weird. Or childish. For having a crush on you.” You fidget with your hands, unable to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable, just—just please don’t make fun of me or anything.”

His thumb lingers against your cheek. “I never said I didn’t enjoy your attention.”

Your breath stills.

“I think you’re pretty cute too,” he admits, voice dropping lower. “I’ve thought that for a while now.” His fingers trail to tuck your hair gently behind your ear. “I’ve always been… a little older than you. Always thought you were attractive as hell, but I didn’t want to freak you out about the age thing. Not until I saw one of Ami’s chats with you.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, and you fight the instinct to take it in your mouth.

You shake yourself. Your brain can’t keep up with your body right now.

You look up at him, dazed, hanging onto his every word.

“Always suspected you had a little crush on me,” he muses. “You think I didn’t notice the tiny little tops you wore? How you’d lean in extra close, tits practically brushing against my arm, when asking me for help with math—math you already knew, by the way.” His eyes gleam as he watches you squirm. “Or how you’d reapply that pink lip gloss every time I looked at you?”

Your heart is pounding so loudly you think he might hear it.

He tilts his head slightly, watching you with that slow, amused smirk.

“My suspicions were kinda confirmed when I saw you texting Ami about how sexy you thought I was,” he murmurs, his voice like silk.

Your brain is screaming.

And yet, you don’t move away.

You hide your face behind your hands in embarrassment, unable to believe he was telling you all this, too ashamed to look at him. His words ignited desire in you. He had noticed all your futile attempts to seduce him and despite the teasing words, you were getting wetter by the second.

He tutted softly, his eyes flicking to your face with a look that almost seemed amused. Gently, he reached for your hands, pulling them away from your face. His large hand easily enclosed both of your wrists, holding them firmly but not painfully, as he pinned them softly to your lap.

His gaze remained on you, studying your flushed expression with a small, knowing smile.

“You know what I wanted to do then?” He says, his voice low and teasing, as he leans a little closer, his eyes locked onto yours. The playful gleam in his eyes lingers as he watches you, a small, teasing smile tugging at his lips, his tone laced with lust.

“What?” You ask with a faint voice as he leans into you, his mouth beside your ear, his breath warm against your skin. The proximity makes your heart race, and you can feel your breath catch in your throat as his presence fills the space around you.

“Wanted to fuck you so badly. I’ve jerked off so many times thinking about you.” He groans as he pulls back, his oceanic eyes now clouded by desire and lust as he boldly makes eye contact with you, squeezing both your hands in his large grip.

You instinctively reach up to wet your lips, no longer unfamiliar with the warmth of embarrassment after his bold words. Then, surprising even yourself, you do something you never imagined—your heart racing as you rise onto your knees, tilt your head, and press your lips gently against his.

He responds immediately, his hand freeing your wrists as it goes to grip the back of your neck, and the other spayed on your lower back. He kisses you passionately, the kiss itself a clash of teeth and tongue. You moan as his tongue enters your mouth, swirling around yours and completely dominating your mouth as you gladly let him. You feel dizzy when experiencing a kiss like this, pulling back from air, your lips coated in a mixture of both your saliva.

He has a crazed look in his eyes, as he leans in to softly bite your bottom lip, maintaining eye contact with you as he tugs on it slightly, letting it go with a pop. You’re breathing heavily, not only because of the kiss but because of how heavily you’re attracted to him.

Without warning he pushes himself against the headboard of the bed, spreading his legs slightly and pulling you on his lap. You let out a small whimper at the way he manhandles you, arching your back and pressing your chest towards his as you both start kissing again. He kisses you like you’re his last meal, his tongue playfully chasing yours as he sucks on it, making you buck your hips against his.

He lets out a low groan at that, and you swear that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard in your life. Eager to hear it again, you grind your crotch onto his again, feeling the hardening imprint of his cock through his sweatpants. He grabs you in place by placing his large hands on your waist, bringing his hips up to rut his cock against your crotch again. At this point your panties are completely soaked. you were already wet just from his confession about you, his smooth voice being able to turn you on embarrassingly quick. They feel uncomfortably wet and you look down, seeing a wet patch forming on his sweatpants.

He humps into you harder, as you try your best to rub down on him, your clit being stimulated by the feeling of his hardened length rubbing against you even through the layers of clothing. Satoru stops his ministrations for a second, looking at you, realising how small you are even while sitting in his lap. his hands travel up your thighs as he lifts your skirt, taking in your absolutely soaked pussy. You bite your lip in both frustration and lust, wanting him to touch you rather than just stare.

“Fuck baby, you’re so eager, huh” he mumbles, distracted by how he can see the shape of your pussy through your panties. You moan, a little embarrassed, pushing your hips up, to signal him to touch you. Teasingly, he runs a long finger through your slit over your soaked panties. You swear you almost cum at his touch, as your body suddenly jolts, your hands grab at his shoulders. He chuckles a little, as he slips his hand in your underwear, his fingers teasingly sliding up and down your labia, gathering your slick. he uses that slick and prods at your puffy clit, causing you to let out a whimper, your hands grabbing tightly at his shoulders as you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“So shy.. fuck I wanna see if you can come on my fingers alone. Y’r so wet, You like it messy?” He breathes out his words, his voice like honey, his fingers setting a brutal pace against your clit as you succumb to the pleasure, not even getting embarrassed at the fact that you’re basically riding his hand. with no warning his middle finger slides into you gently, as you gasp at the intrusion. However your clit is never left neglected, as his thumb immediately goes back to rubbing and flicking it, making you bite and kiss his neck in order to somehow relieve yourself of the torturous pleasure you’re experiencing.

“F-fuck,” you mutter, leaning back to look at Satoru in the eyes, biting your lip. “I think- I think ‘m close Satoru.” You close your eyes as he watches your face intently, his gaze boring into you as you twist your face into one of pleasure. Suddenly you feel a coil in your stomach snap as you feel yourself release all over his fingers, your breaths coming out fast and shaky. with one last flick to your clit, he grins smugly.

Clumsily, you climb off his lap, kneeling off the bed, hands reaching the waistband of his sweatpants. his brow furrows as he tsks cutely. “Let me take care of you baby, don’t you wanna feel good?” He asks as you shake your head, still flushed from your orgasm.

“No. wanna make you feel good too Satoru.” You say, as he throws his head back in a groan, getting painfully hard at just your words. “Fuck. okay. you’ve done this before?” He asks, as you nod your head. “Once, but I.. I don't know if I'm good at it.. I mean he came.. so..” You admit, looking at him, playing with the drawstring of his sweatpants.

“Shit, you have such a pretty mouth, I'm sure it’ll be good. I’ll teach you, baby” he says, caressing your face, setting his legs at the edge of the bed, as you get down on the floor between his spread legs, looking up at him.

You quickly discard your shirt, leaving you in your bra. Ironically, you chose to wear a lace one today as all your other ones were in the wash. Satoru smirks at your cute, lacy pink bra, snapping the strap against your skin as he looks down at you, analysing both your face and your supple tits. You nimbly take off his pants, gulping at the tent in his boxers. Timidly you run a hand over his clothed cock, and you see a wet spot starting to form. He gasps at the feeling of your hand caressing him, and you pull down his boxers with a gasp.

It's big. it’s really big, is all you’re thinking. It slaps against his stomach, tall and proud, the tip a flushed pink colour, already starting to dribble pre-cum. His base is trimmed, and you almost salivate when you see how it connects to his happy trail, the tantalising white trail peeking out at the end of his compression shirt. You have no idea how you’re gonna fit it inside of your mouth.

You gingerly grab it, your mouth reaching out to kitten lick the tip. Slowly you take the tip in your mouth, suckling on it, as you start to make your way down. He starts moaning when you pay attention to the tip, and you bob your head up and down his shaft, feeling a small sense of success when you hear him downright whimper, and you feel slick slide out of you again. You eagerly bob your head up and down, not being able to take all of him in because he’s so big, spit is coating your chin and dripping on his dick, your hands pumping the remaining part of the shaft that won’t fit in your mouth. You’re gagging and he’s grabbing your hair to roughly lift it up and then thrusting his cock back in your mouth, and you let out a moan, pressing your thighs together at the rough way that he handles you.

“Fu-fuck, you’re taking it so well. Shit- ah!” He moans out louder and you look up at him with teary eyes, hollowing your cheeks. A few more thrusts and suddenly he pulls you off, his face flushed.

You whine, wanting him to cum in your mouth. He coos up at your needy reaction, pulling you onto his lap, his face flushed and red. “You’re on birth control right?” He pants recalling when he had overheard you telling Ami that you’d need to leave their house soon to stop by the store to get some birth control before they closed. You nod and he gives you a happy grin, his canines peeking through. 

“Need to cum inside of you.” He whispers in your ear and you nod eagerly, wiping off the spit on your chin with the back of your hand.

His hands travel up your skirt and pull your basically ruined panties off as you sign a breath of relief, the cold air hitting your pussy. You’re left in a bra and a skirt and you quickly unclasp your bra and Satoru pushes off your skirt. You’re left completely naked and Satoru still has his shirt on.

“Hey, take your shirt off too!” You whine and he laughs, pulling off his shirt in one swift go and kicking his sweats and boxers that were both pooling at his ankles. Immediately your hands run down the hard planes of chest, feeling his rippling muscles, your hands scratching at his abs. He shudders at that as he buries his face in your tits, licking and kissing them in a way which has you arching them in his face.

He sets you down on the bed as he grabs his stiff cock, running it up and down your pussy. It touches your clit, which is still sensitive after your previous orgasm, and you let out a little whimper.

“Satoru, stop staring at it like that..” You mumble shyly, as Satoru’s eyes are completely focused on how your pussy is clenching, wanting nothing more than his teasing cock inside.

“Your pussy? S’not my fault it’s so fuckin pretty. Wanna taste it next time.” He mumbles and you flush at his crude words, moaning and bucking your hips as he prods his dick at your entrance.

You close your legs at the intrusion as he slips the tip inside, hissing at the slight burn as he stretches you out. He pries apart your knees with his huge hands, spreading out your pussy to him and you grab the sheets, writhing. He enters you slowly, pulsing inside of you, and suddenly the pain melts into pleasure.

“You can-you can put it fully in now.” You signal and he immediately fills you up, staying still so you can get used to the size. “M-move. Fuck. Please, Satoru, move!” You whimper and he starts thrusting into you, at a deep yet slow pace that has you seeing stars. He kisses you, swallowing your moans as he peppers his kisses down to your neck, sucking and kissing, which you’re sure is gonna leave marks but you’re feeling too good to care at the moment.

Satoru starts whimpering, relishing each time he slides into your warm, gummy walls. “You’re so tight, your pussy is literally suckin’ me in. Shit you’re so gorgeous” he breathes out, watching down at where your bodies are meeting, getting turned on by the lewd slapping sounds filling his room. Your eyes roll back in response, you’re too fucked out to respond. He grabs your legs and pushes them to your chest as you squeal, his cock now drilling into you at a deeper angle. He keeps hitting the right spot each time and you swear that with a few more thrusts you’ll cum again.

“Ah, I'm so close. You sure I can cum inside this tight little hole?” he says, looking you in the eye, as you nod eagerly. “Please, please cum in me. I need it inside of me!” You start incessantly babbling as he chuckles. Thoughts of him fucking a baby into you take over you and you wonder what it would feel like having him cum in you without any birth control.

He grabs your tits, squeezing them harshly, rolling your nipples in your hands, fucking into you at an almost animalistic pace as he is trying to reach his high. You feel that familiar bond in your stomach, as its warmth is threatening to spread all over your body.

“Sa– Satoru!! I’m gonna cum, I’m-“ You start writhing as he moves his hands to hold your hips down, his thrusts becoming sloppier. He reaches down to kiss you messily, biting your bottom lip as you moan into his mouth.

He suddenly stills, filling you to the hilt, breathing heavily as you feel him release hot spurts of cum in you. The thick ropes of his seed paint your walls, suddenly fucking into you harder, even though he’s sensitive after his orgasm, a hand reaching down to play with your clit to help you cum too.

You feel the bond snap as you cum all over his cock, arching your back and grabbing the sheets, your breaths coming out in pants as you lock eyes with Satoru. His hair is falling onto his slightly sweaty forehead, and he’s breathing heavily, as he pulls out. A mixture of both your fluids come out, and he quickly goes to the bathroom and grabs a small cloth, wiping you down and cleaning you.

“You okay? Need me to run a bath?” he asks, concern lacing his voice. You shake your head tiredly, lifting your arms toward him.

“Can you hold me?” Your heart pounds as you meet his gaze, and he smiles down at you—soft, reassuring.

“Of course I can, baby,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against him. Your head nestles into the crook of his neck as his fingers stroke through your hair, his warmth melting away the last traces of exhaustion. He tugs the blankets over both of you, his steady breathing lulling you into a peaceful haze.

Within minutes, sleep claims you both, wrapped in each other’s embrace—completely unaware of the door creaking open downstairs.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

You creep down the stairs quietly, Satoru’s hand warm in yours. The morning light filters through the windows, casting a soft glow over the living room. After last night, you had called your parents, telling them you were staying over at Ami’s—though you left out a few details.

Both of you are still giggling when Ami suddenly pops out of the kitchen, wielding a spatula like a weapon.

“You guys need to be more quiet. Pretty sure the whole neighborhood heard you,” she grumbles, smacking Satoru’s shoulder with the spatula.

“Ow—why are you hitting me? She was the one making all the noise,” he teases, nudging you with a smirk.

You groan, burying your face in your free hand as Ami winces.

“I did not need to know that. At all.” She glares at him before her eyes narrow suspiciously. “So… are you two, like, dating now or something?”

You tense, looking away but still holding Satoru’s hand. Truthfully, you have no idea where you stand with him.

“If she’d let me, sure,” he says softly, a faint pink dusting his cheeks.

You whip your head around so fast you almost give yourself whiplash.

Ami rolls her eyes. “Whatever. If you hurt her, I’ll kill you myself.” With that, she turns and disappears back into the kitchen.

Satoru chuckles, leading you toward his car to drop you back home. As he unlocks the door, he looks at you, a playful glint in his eye.

“So… what do you say? Wanna go on a date with me?”

hiiii writing is so fun omg i have so many ideas and so much freetime i think i'm gonna write about nerdjo next :3

[eroaneki]

so i'm going to explain this as someone who was 10 when the war in Afghanistan started and 12 when the Iraqi war started, and remembers, very vividly, the general feeling of America during that time.

there is a distinct difference between America prior to 9/11 and America post 9/11. prior to 9/11, America was "free." you could go anywhere without having cameras following you, needing to go through a million security checks at the airport. your loved ones were able to meet you at the gate when you got off of a plane, and you could literally take the bus to any major airport in the country and just hang out all day. you didn't have to have a flight scheduled to be allowed in an airport. it was literally a thing to go down to an airport to have dinner at one of the restaurants there or hang at the bar. basically there wasn't such an obvious "big brother is watching you" type feeling.

when 9/11 happened, America was shaken to its core. we realized, for the first time, that we weren't invulnerable to attacks from foreign entities. 9/11 was the first time America had ever suffered a foreign terrorist attack. there was instant panic. i remember people being pulled out of school the day of. businesses shut down. people pulled money out of their bank accounts. the economy came to a grinding halt so badly that the Federal Reserve dropped interest rates to 0% in order to stimulate people to keep spending money. there was widespread fear that the end of America was coming.

that feeling persisted, and still persists today. Bush, wanting to right the "wrongs" of his father, used these feelings of panic and uncertainty in the American public to drum up support for invading the Middle East. most of the American public agreed with it because they just wanted to feel safe again. they wanted things to go back to the way they were prior to 9/11. Canada, France, the UK, and other world players supported him in this endeavor and sent troops.

Bush ended up invading Afghanistan without Congressional support in October 2001. Congress later agreed to grant him authority to declare war on Iraq when he eventually started touting how they had information about "weapons of mass destruction (aka nukes)" being stashed in Iraq and sought to flush them out. I watched on live TV in December 2003 when they pulled Saddam Hussain out of a dusty hole in the ground and toppled the statue of him in the middle of Bagdhad. Again, I was 12 when this happened.

It became evident after some time that Iraq did not house nukes. Or if they did, they'd been moved somewhere else long before America got to these so-called "facilities" where they were being kept. There were literally no nukes or weapons of mass destruction to be found. Slowly, our allies started to pull out of the war effort, realizing there was no other reason to be there. Because France pulled out, Bush went around trying to rename french fries "freedom fries" as a way to show our displeasure with France's decision.

Because we created a power vacuum by pulling Saddam out of power, we were forced into staying in the Middle East and then tried rebuilding Afghanistan as like a sovereign state. Basically we started fighting ideologies from all over the Middle East, which cost us thousands of American lives unnecessarily and it's been a big point of contention for years now as to whether we had any business going into Afghanistan at all. It also cost thousands of innocent lives throughout the Middle East and completely destabilized the area. It only gave birth to further, more extreme terrorist organizations such as ISIS.

The whole conflict in the Middle East was supported by Americans for the first few years of the war. But as the results and rationale waned, most people wanted out. America likely stayed due to resources, wanting to establish influence, and worst of all, pride. Almost every issue we have right now can be traced back to 9/11 and the fallout after.

But what's even more upsetting is to see what happened after we pulled out of Afghanistan in 2021. After 20 years of literal blood, sweat, and tears trying to prop the country up, Afghanistan crumbled completely in less than 24 hours. 20 years and countless lives lost and forever changed, for nothing. Quite literally nothing other than to serve the ego's of those in power.

And now our generation and every generation after us is saddled with trillions upon trillions of dollars worth of debt from a war that quite literally meant nothing. We cannot afford basic living expenses, rent, education, etc., in large part because of the economic response to this war.

Our futures were all sold because of this war.

I missed most of the Iraq war due to being a baby, but every time I read about it I start wondering why we aren’t all talking about it all of the time

[shorthaltsjester]

one of the most infuriating parts of seeing people refer to cr as the “it’s love that saves people” show is that they completely ignore the context of that quote and that, yes, it is the “it’s love that saves people” show and that’s actually why c3 was a disappointment. because caduceus doesn’t just spontaneously say that to trent out of some pity for the fact that trent doesn’t have anyone, it’s that, as is central to caduceus’ journey and the mighty nein as a whole, when people love you they will challenge you and negate the foolish cycles of thought that can only emerge from a life lived in isolation. the mighty nein learned this lesson, with characters who notably and violently rejected the notion that they could be open to one another eventually realizing the only way to honour the friends they found and the version of themself that those friends came to care for required being honest with those friends about their motivations and feelings and desires. and in the c2 finale(s) we see the consequences of the choice each of them made to give up the lonely versions they’d sold themselves away as in favour of being a member of the mighty nein. fjord returns to an imperfect but cherished relationship with vandran that he’d previously committed to avoiding, beau finds her footing in the cobalt soul where her loudness isn’t just put up with but is valued for its keeping the institution true, caleb decides not to be the version of himself years of solitary confinement and abusive manipulation would have him be by electing to imprison trent, veth makes the choice to return to her family rather than see the empire bureaucracy through, jester opts to continue adventuring and helping her friends as they need it since she’s found her place in the world to be wherever they need her, yasha is finally able to make the choice to fully face her grief and bring the collection of penance stored in her journal back to zuala’s grave, caduceus returns to a grove recovering from a once-encroaching sickness attended by a family likewise recovering and commits himself to rebuilding the temple. there’s not a single outcome in terms of the character’s “happily ever afters” (which, as a side note, is why the claim that what people are frustrated with c3 for is the abundance of happy endings absurd and obvious in its refusal to actually take seriously a divergent opinion to its own — c2 was also a largely happy ending, likewise boosted by a an unlikely dice roll, the difference is the narrative earning) that is not mediated by literal years of character work and dming that orients that work toward the campaign plot (or that orients the plot toward the character work). c2 feels earned because it proves the implicit message of “pain doesn’t make people, it’s love that makes people”, where transformation happens in either case, but love is a transformation born out of choice, and pain demands a transformation for survival.

if you want to take seriously that c3 is part of a world constantly negotiating with the claim “it’s love that makes people.” you have to take seriously the initiating claim that’s it’s not pain that makes them, and that, in fact, in light of the love that one chooses, pain becomes inconsequential. given the frequency with which the fandom rolls out the “it’s not. x characters fault, they’re traumatized” i’d say it’s pretty obvious that bells hells have failed to qualify for, let alone pass, the “it’s love that makes them” test, since they are all still quite significantly defined by their pain and a refusal to choose love in the sense of transformation. there’s a bell hooks quote i used for this cr edit I made awhile ago that i’ve always felt really resonates with what caduceus says in that scene + what cr has tended to say about love through the characters and their journeys. and you can go to the link for the full quote but the pertinent part is that love is a commitment to being changed and a commitment to struggle to achieve that change even if it means letting go of the easier notions of ourselves as unlovable or broken to do so.

like, to be clear i’m not saying that bells hells don’t love people or each other at the end of the campaign, but that their love is a noun and not a verb. laudna goes to lieve’tel and has to be told she isn’t broken, ashton sacrifices himself and it’s not even the love of bells hells that saves them, it’s the deus ex machina of essek. bells hells are defined by their stagnancy, their refusal to give up on the definitions of themselves they’ve come to hold as a result of trauma. and while the initial creation of those identities is not on them, the continued maintenance of those identities such that they become bad faith habits that disallow any notion of growth to occur in the face of senses of self which assume their own brokenness is on them. and in all honesty that still could’ve been an interesting story, especially since it shows they’re of the same kind as ludinus, but it would not have ever been a story about the kind of love that caduceus is talking about when he says it’s love that makes people — let it not be forgotten that love (and fear) as a noun kept caduceus alone for years and love as a verb showed him the pay off of giving up stagnancy’s safety to pursue something else — nor the kind of love that c1 and c2 are built upon.

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 11

Ch 12 is done and I'm kinda foaming at the mouth to give it to y'all- but I need to wait to finish ch 13-

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 11 >>next

Finding The Immortal was harder than expected but you weren’t surprised. Cecil worked The Guardians to the bone, you were sure. Nevertheless, you found him in the end, quickly flying next to him to greet him.

Surprised, the man looked at you before giving a small, weary smile while greeting you back. “This may sound crazy and like I’m digging into your life, and I understand if you don’t wish to speak about it, but I really need-“ You stopped as soon as he grabbed your shoulders, making you both stop midair and face each other. “It’s okay, take a breath.”

“See- that’s the thing! I don’t need to breathe, I don’t need to eat, I can’t die because I’m immortal like you due to magic and I need to talk to someone who gets it because this past week I feel everyone’s been acting crazy and it’s making me feel crazy- And- and I’ve lost you.” You looked at the shocked man. “You’re immortal?...”

“Yep.” You nod. “… Long story?” The Immortal asks slowly, getting the same response in return. His beeper goes off and without even looking at it he turns it off. “That may have been important.” You pointed it out, but he just chuckled and smiled. “This is important too. I’m sure the others can do well without me for a bit. Now, how about we talk over some food? I know this little family dinner in Las Vegas.” You relaxed, nodding at his suggestion.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“- and then he just tells me to be careful around certain magical weapons because they might hurt me- Like dude, you told me I’m immortal, taught me a bit of magic, and then dipped telling me to see him in a week at the same spot- he could have at least given me a way to contact him after telling me that something might kill me!” You sigh and take a bite of your burger and fries. “You were right, by the way, this is a great spot.”

Immortal chuckles at your complaint. “At least there is someone who is helping.” He furrowed his brows as he also ate bits of his steak. “Or is trying. I had a mental breakdown the first time I realized that I’m not aging and keep defying death.”

“Two days after I had a panic attack thinking about how everyone I love will eventually die, even Nolan and Mark- sure it’ll take a few centuries but that’s still nothing to immortality! The old bastard has been acting weird since I told them too, and Luthor keeps annoying me about his blasted party- which I’m like 90% sure is a front for my birthday- and today I’m supposed to meet the British bastard, but before I have to visit someone else-”

“Breathe, it’ll be fine, you’ll live.” The ancient man tried to reassure you with a small joke about the situation. “I can’t give much advice about this- your immortality seems very different from mine, and to be honest, I never actively think about it considering how sensible of a subject it is. Especially the ‘how many people will pass right by you’ topic. It’s…”

“Terrifying?” He sighs and nods at the completion. “It’s nice to know I’m not alone anymore, and that you thought I’d be the best person to talk about it with.” He plays with his food. “Therapists say that it’s good to talk about your feelings, right? I think it will be great for us both to talk openly about it- I don’t have a phone, but I do hang by the hero memorial stone every other Sunday- if, you know-“

“I’d love that, thank you Immortal…Abraham? Have you chosen a new name?” As your soft smile turned to a confused look the man only laughed, assuring you to call him whatever. Perhaps after that many years, names do lose their importance, or maybe it was the fact that he never had one when he was born in the Stone Age that could be translated to New World speech. “The honey pancakes are to die for, by the way.” His choice of words makes you snort with amusement.

“…You and Lex Luthor are friends?” He asks, a mix of confusion and surprise filling his tone. You just give a long sigh. “Friends is such a strong word…”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You waited patiently in front of the manor’s front entrance, smiling once the doors opened, immediately being greeted by the butler. “I’ll never hear you call me by my first name, will I Sanford?” You teased the older man as he led you through the halls. “I fear not, ma’am.” He smiled as he bowed, leaving you once you walked by him, getting closer to Samson.

You set the little box of treats on the accent table in between the two armchairs as you took your place across Samson while you both greeted each other. “How have you been? How’s that suit going?” Your soft-spoken questions are met with a defeated sigh and a shrug. “It’ll take two more days.”

“You know… You don’t need the suit or powers to do some good. Let me finish, please-” You quickly interrupted. These men were always so quick to jump the gun. “You’re rotting here. I’m not telling you to drop the suit but in these two days, you could go see the outside. It won’t kill you. There is this kid, Adam. He is staying at the hospital I volunteer at and he’s quite a big fan of Black Samson-“

“He’d be disappointed to see me-“ You swiftly but gently tapped his foot. “He’s one of the kids you saved when you lost your powers, Sam. He saw you lose your powers and still hold up kilograms of ruble just so he could have a chance at escape. That boy admires you now more than ever. You need to face things and it’ll be better for you if you do it before you feel like you’re worthy again just because you’ve got powers again.”

“That’s harsh, kid.” Samson almost pouted. “Learned from the best.” You shrug and he smiles. A moment of silence passes between you two before he finally asks where the hospital is.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

John was on his tenth cigarette, he was showing great restraint, really. He knew he made a mistake in asking Zatanna for help, but he seemed unable to do the opposite lately. They both had been arguing for an hour, Constantine knew that the girl would take to Zee like a cat to catnip, but this was making him regret letting Zatanna know more beyond a magical kid needs help. “I’m just saying- maybe Batman should know, she’s his kid-“

“The numpty has been locking her up in his mansion and ignoring her for years, her daft siblings too. The rogues had to raise and give her the attention Bruce wasn’t willing to.” He scratched at his chin before taking another puff.

“Maybe Bruce-“ John didn’t let her finish. “Don’t. Don’t you dare finish that, Zee. She’s just a kid- a kid who ran away because she thought Batman would kill her. Between the two of us, you should know better. You’re giving him too much grace.”

“Are you two mind reading or just mean mugging each other? Sorry for being late, by the way. Was finishing my project and lost track of time.” Your voice broke the two from their argument.  Zatanna looked at John with a raised eyebrow. “She doesn’t look like the little kid you described.” John clears his throat, brushing off the comment on his manipulation before he introduces the two. “I thought it would be good to expose you to different kinds of magic-“

“You’re ditching me.” John choked on his words as you crossed your arms, quickly denying the accusation. “- It’s just- I- Zatanna is a great Elemental mage, I thought you’d like to learn more about Umbrakinesis-“ Zatanna, at John’s rambling and pleading look, stepped forward. “It’s nice to finally meet you, John spoke highly of you.”

You gave her a gentle smile as you came closer and landed in front of her. “I doubt that, though, it’s nice to meet you too. Love your shows.” Your eyes moved to Constantine. “So, you two are going to teach me how to manipulate shadows? Can I learn the other elements and the mind-reading thingy you both were doing?”

“Telepathy, love.” John sighs as you give him a blank stare and double down. “Mind-reading thingy.” Zatanna chuckles softly at the look of pure defeat on John’s face.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Dinner was quiet. For the past week it’s been awkward, especially as Nolan kept missing dinners and breakfasts, and seemingly avoiding you and Mark specifically. “So… how has your day been?” Debbie asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“Amber and I got together, like- for real. And I mostly dealt with small stuff today. Robberies, Elephant Man, three times, the sort… Did dad text or- call, at least?” Mark mumbles, tired and slightly sore. Debbie shook her head. “No, but I’m sure he’s fine.”

You shrug once all eyes are on you. “Talked to Immortal about- you know. Also trained my magic some more and found out some elemental magic just hates me. Water tried to drown me…” You glared at the glass as you spoke, getting up with a groan after you finished half of the food. “My everything hurts. I’ll go sleep, thanks for the meal mama.”

“Aren’t you going to wait for dad?” Debbie asks softly, trying to hide her worry. You just shake your head and take your plate to trash the remains and put it in the sink. “Nah. He wants to act like the sperm donor, he’s going to get treated as such. Besides, gotta check up with my friends in Gotham. Good night.” You waved her off, not noticing Mark’s brows furrowing.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

While Hal was gaging as he encased the mangled body of The Joker, calling for the Watchtower to notify Batman that Joker had been found, Red Hood and the Sirens were celebrating, well- Jason and Harley were.

“Batman is going to be angry.” Pamela sighs in her wine glass. “Batman? Angry? Why, he’d never.” Selina joked, laughing before sipping on her own wine glass. “He’ll bust a vein when he finds out it was our little hero who did it.” Selina’s eyes catch Jason’s figure as he tries to climb onto her coffee table. “Wait- No! It’s-“ She and Pam cringe as the table wrecks to the side, the man’s body making a loud thud as he kisses the ground.

“Broken.” Catwoman sighs. “You good kid?” Ivy asks, almost being drowned by Harley's hysterical laughing. “I’m amazing! Best day of my life!” He slurs, giving two thumbs up before dropping his hands and groaning. “B-man is going to be so mad.”

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou

[onceinamillionposter]

Yandere!L&D band headcannons (Part 2)

Lead Vocalist : Rafayel

Drums : Sylus

Guitarist : Zayne

Guitarist : Xavier

Lead Rapper : Caleb

Tags : Yandere , Peeking in on someone naked , Stalker -ish behaviour, kidnapping etc

- You’d slowly descended into a depressing spiral. Leaks of you helping their tailors with their measurements got leaked of which you wanted to sue, but to avoid more backlash you let it happen before people call you cruel. None of your friends wished to speak with you, your parents avoided you as a topic and you were just so done with it. A bunch of take out littered around your room, and you a mess. You couldn’t bring yourself to go outside so you stayed inside more, barely leaving your room even when the boys would spam call you.

- It wasn’t until there was a knock and a slow sound of unlocking that you saw them again.They entered your tiny apartment (although they had no access) and found you laying in bed sheets covered and sick looking.

- Caleb and Rafayel came first, slightly berating you on why you would just disappear of the map for a bunch of days and begging you to come back, saying you wouldn’t my have to worry and you had them. Eventually they gave up and instead tried to force some cheer back in your face, although happy you would only have them instead of those ungrateful people in society. Caleb would try and play small pranks on you, each making you frown more than the last. Rafayel would show you some paintings he got up to with little to no reaction from you (he didn’t care to stop talking although it broke his heart you were hurting this much)

- Xavier sits in the room with you while combing through your hair, bringing you snacks which he realises you haven’t even touched on his next visit. He ends up laying in your bed with you to keep you comfortable and touch you but that’s different.

- Sylus and Zayne try and talk to you , Sylus tried to make you laugh while telling you some updates (not about the Press but other things) like their singles hitting number 1 on the record charts, and the collabs. Zayne gets you to eat, pleading with you as much as he possibly can without feeling shame. Eventually he made you eat porridge , although you felt sick all around.

- It started small, and understandable. Hours of doom scrolling had your phone taken away by Caleb who half jokingly told you that the rest of the world is none of your business, you tried to convince him to let you have your phone to at least talk to your friends in which he pointed out the fact they barley check up on you, with no reason to have it you let him take it away.

- Xavier practically lived on your couch now and whenever you even thought of attempting to work on your reputation why would force you away from the computer, instead making you watch shows with him ,”how we used to” he would say. It became normal to sit with him, watching it all. Hating it all.

- Rafayel would make sure you shower and maintaining some hygiene, although you noticed some peeping eyes from the door. You could never tell who is who though, you just knew someone was staring at you from outside, making a shiver run down your spine.

- Sylus would suggest you live with them permanently, with a very long break from work which you adamantly deny. Seeing as you harbour some anger to them and wouldn’t want to completely blame them for something that was PRS fault.

- Meanwhile while you think this, Sylus is making a discreet purchase of a decently large home in a secluded area somewhere, hiring some non talking staff to secure their little secret.

- Zayne wedges his way in, naturally of course he is now your doctor, nurse and personal physician. He prescribes you things which make you better but some make you, sleepy. You don’t know why but you feel so drowsy that when you wake up, you’re in a whole different area.

- You are now in this new place, a beautiful room but devoid of any life. You are wearing a sundress- different to the pyjamas you once wore before covered in tears (a nice change but the idea of being changed unconscious makes you feel odd)

- You try and find an escape to find the others downstairs around the TV watching as a tv show reviews the new album they released being reacted to.

- “Oh your up? Took you long enough.” Caleb dragged you over to the TV to see the album ‘Runaway’ ,“Honestly they’re going crazy for it!” He smirked as he patted your head. When you asked where you are he smiled and said home. You were home now, your days consisted of you trying to run away but one of them catching you, Rafayel rolling his eyes and dragging you home, Xavier always appearing beside you asking if hide and seek was fun, Sylus giving you his black card and telling you to order things for yourself instead of sitting and crying about the fact the outside is dangerous. Zayne manipulating you to come back inside, stating your too unstable to handle outside, what would the PR think seeing you like that? And Caleb, Caleb practically chases after you as if it’s a game of tag. You never get too far without him taking you home asking if you finally feel better and instead have fun with him playing some games again.

- You’re stuck there now, with them and you look on the TV as your missing person poster pops up, and the fact they refuse to make a statement. It is sick really, but hey at least you won’t be bothered anymore.

a/n : Ummm part two! I dunno if I wanna make this a fully fledged project thing I don’t really know where to go with this! Sorry if it’s disappointing to you with how this went but I think this is pretty decent! I’ll probs make other, better pieces but for now have this one! How would we feel about a BTS , Meghan the stallion type vibe for the next?.. Anyway tell me what you think! So until then! Byeeeee <3

Tags : @miffysoo , @zarakem , @kithyyy

[bluemotifofsleep]

Shield My Heart

Knight! iwaizumi x Princess! reader

-it was his duty to love her, and even if it wasn’t, he’d do it anyway. iwaizumi’s devotion came as easy as breathing.

part one: setting a stage, placing the actors, pulling back the curtains.

~

iwaizumi has a lot of things that he questions in his life.

he finds himself second-guessing a lot. sometimes he finds himself questioning his actions, wondering if he’s said or done the right thing, especially with the company he tends to be around. mostly high nobles and literal kings and queens peering down their regal noses at him during banquets and important meetings.

he has to be conscious of himself, as to not upset the frequently delicate personalities he comes in contact with, as to not shatter the delicate atmosphere that suffocates the castle most days, with his gruff nature.

one time oikawa told him that he could be very popular with the ladies, if he were just a bit more charming. iwaizumi responded that he didn’t want to be charming, that wasn’t his goal in life, idiot-kawa.

he was a knight, not a prince, after all. (a fact that would sometimes haunt him, but he would never admit it out loud.)

sometimes during training, he would question if he was worthy of being a knight. he got plenty of praise from commanders over the years, saying he was a talented knight of his generation, but he would always wonder if it was because of his connection to the princess. that even through iwaizumi, she still had an influence on people’s actions. he always made sure to push himself to the point of breaking, to feel like he deserved his place on the battalion, to feel less like a peasant that was accidentally let into the castle.

sometimes when oikawa says something particularly raunchy or outright stupid, he second guesses becoming friends with the brunette. (he knows deep down that he can never get rid of him, that oikawa is a leech that has stuck himself onto iwaizumi so hard he never be free of him, even if he wanted to.)

iwaizumi has a lot of things that waver in his life, that bend side to side on any given day, and sometimes feel like they might snap in two completely, except his one constant. the one thing he can always have certainty in: the princess, he doesn’t second guess you.

so when you’re grabbing his hand and dragging him down to the kitchens at an hour you are definitely not supposed to, not for the first time, he goes along with you without question.

“i overheard one of the kitchen staff during dinner say they were baking blueberry tarts. lets go steal some tonight so we can have seconds tomorrow.” you sound scheming, like you’re plotting a heist of crowned jewels rather than pastries.

the walk from your wing of the castle down to the kitchens at the lower level is journey in itself, down spiralling staircases and through long frigid hallways decorated with various tapestries and memorabilia of ancient kingdoms. the long rugs that cover the floors feel soft under his feet, dampening the sound of your shared footsteps. windows that line the stone walls cast moonlight onto the floor and stone in various sized strips.

your hair and dress are lit up periodically by the moonlight, shimmering, and iwaizumi has flickering thoughts of a star plucked from the sky.

with one more staircase separating the both of you from the kitchen, you look back at iwaizumi with an excited smile, and his heart squeezes painfully in his chest. he can’t help but notice how beautiful you look with the moon casting shadows and illuminating your royal features. and then he catches himself, because he’s not allowed to think you look beautiful. the moon can’t admire the beauty of the ocean that it will never touch.

you live in two separate worlds, two different stories set ahead of you, two different lives that won’t intertwine in the way that he wants with all of his heart.

because a knight, and a prince, are leagues apart, and only one of them will ever be allowed to love you.

he refrains from looking at you for the rest of the walk to the kitchen.

unlike the rest of the castle, the kitchen isn’t a place of great grandeur. the walls aren’t decorated particularly well, none of the same metal armour and family portraits bejewelling the room, but he knows that it’s one of your favourite parts of the castle. you’d always said that it was easier to pretend here. without the blaten aristocratic look of the rest of the castle, you could pretend you were anyone else. when you’d told iwaizumi this, he’d gotten this strange feeling inside of him that he didn’t quite understand when he was younger, but he knows now what it is.

courage.

he feels it now, thinking about it. he feels it itch at his legs and arms, telling him to grab you and run. to run and never look back.

just as swiftly as it comes, it fizzles away with time. the tree that is iwaizumi’s hope grows quickly, but it dies just the same. when it falls, it falls fast and hard and it shakes him back into reality.

back into the kitchen that he is now stepping inside, with you leading the way.

during the day, the kitchen is bustling with energy and loud commands from the head cook. aromas of all kinds reach into nearby hallways and grab at anyone who may be lingering close enough, tugging them towards the delicious meals and pastries.

right now though, it almost seems like an entirely different place. its illuminated only by the small lamp you carry, and there’s not a soul in sight beyond you and iwaizumi, which is how it should be. the knight has no doubt in his mind you would both be in trouble for this endeavour. the king runs a tight ship with his rules and curfews, especially when it comes to you.

you, who’s currently shimmying a whole tray of blueberry tarts out of the cooling racks and setting it down on the counter. iwaizumi watches as you scan them like they’re glimmering rubies, picking out the biggest.

when you take a bite, you hum and close your eyes in satisfaction, a look of pure bliss on your face.

which is why he’s surprised when you offer the tart you have already taken a bite of, the one you had scanned for carefully to make sure it was the best, to iwaizumi. his heart soars in his chest, an indirect kiss, he thinks fleetingly to himself.

when he looks at your face, there is no slyness there, no hidden seductiviness or shrewdness. you are not a demon sent from the underground to tempt and torment him, even though it feels like it some days. only an open expression with genuine good-naturedness stares back at him, only wanting to share.

god dammit, get your mind out of the gutter. you’ve been spending too much time with oikawa. and then he reaches in and takes a bite, and it’s almost as delicious as the smile that splits your face from ear to ear.

you look like the cat who got the cream, sitting atop one of the counters and eating blueberry tarts until your heart’s content. you’ve always had an affliction for sweets, something “very unprincess-like” some of the cooks would say, but iwaizumi found it endearing. you didn’t have a lot of choices in life, so why strip you of the few you do?

he knows, come morning the cooks will grumble about you and your thief like tendencies when they notice the missing pastries. luckily for you, there’s not much they can do about it without solid proof that you are the pastry burglar, even though everyone knows the truth.

after you’ve successfully completed your heist, the walk back to your room is mostly quiet, dampened by moonlight.

sometimes iwaizumi wonders what you think about when you’re not speaking. sometimes he wants to take his armour off and dive into the deep ocean that he imagines your mind as. because for all your wide smiles and sunny looks, you have a habit of spending a lot of time inside yourself, trapped in your own mind, something you didn’t inherit from the king.

he wonders if your mind truly is all butterflies and tiaras like most people say, (a silly thought, he knows the truth), or if it is the deep chasm he sees reflected back in his own mind. a festering pot of unsaid words and fairytale stories of “what ifs”. he wonders if you’d ever leave this kingdom, if given the chance.

would a caged rabbit run if presented with an open door, or would it freeze?

he wonders all this, and then he tells himself that wondering never did anyone any good at all.

~

“the banquet is coming up, how are you feeling?”

you’ve made it back to your room without upset, no lingering guards or maids discovering you on your late night rendezvous. and now it’s time for iwaizumis least favourite part of every day: goodbye.

you freeze when you process his words, like a mouse that has just smelled a predator upwind. instantly, he feels like the biggest asshole in the world for bringing it up, even though he knew how you were going to react reminded of the ghost that haunts you. your duties as a princess that weigh on your shoulders the same way his armour does on his.

among all of the servants, all of the cooks and cleaners and guards, among all of your relatives, iwaizumi knows he is the only one you can be truly selfish with. your knight is the only one you can bear your heart to, show your troubles and worries to and instead of snatching them away or scolding you or seeing it as a weakness, he will cradle you. he will cradle the broken wing that is your heart and wait for you to fly again on your own time.

he’s the only person you are allowed to be selfish with, he’s the only person you’re allowed to be less than a princess in front of, to just be you, and he will make sure you use it to your full advantage.

all at once, instead of looking frightened, you just look a bit sad. it makes him feel ten times worse.

“it doesn’t really matter how I’m feeling, does it?”

iwaizumi wants to take you away from the castle, put you on his horse and ride far, far away from this place that sometimes seems more like a prison than a kingdom. its a selfish fantasy, he knows. he knows that as long as you are here in this castle, no harm will come to you. you have your whole wealthy, privileged life ahead of you and he could never take you away from that.

but he wants to be selfish, anyway.

“it matters to me.” and it sounds more like a confession than he meant for. it was meant to reassure you, give you a glimpse of hope, but it sounds like a vow.

you look up at him suddenly, like you’re just as shocked by the conviction in his words as he is. and he wishes he could rewind time, just to get another glimpse of your face biting into a blueberry tart, filled with elation.

but then your face softens, and he gets this squeezing feeling in his chest as you look like you might cry.

“thank you, hajime.” it’s whispered into the air between you, bouncing around in his brain. hajime. hajime. hajime. hajime. it’s not the first time you’ve said his first name, but it never gets any easier on his heart.

suddenly though, you’re leaning in, and he doesn’t have any more room to think about his name on your lips.

your arms wrapped around him feel like home, and it hurts him just the same when you pull away.

~

[iamthesilentwriter]

In Shadows We Meet

Draco Malfoy x Weasley!Fem!Reader

Summary: You know you’re not meant to, but you do. You and Draco have been secretly dating since the summer. What happens when your secret relationship is almost exposed? Or, the one where Ginny finds out.

Warnings: slight angst, some kissing

Authors Note: Hello! Sorry, I've ghosted you all. I have started/been writing a Marauders Era High School Foster Care AU, centered around Regulus and Sirius Black, over on AO3, under 'iamthesilentwriter'. It has literally become my newest hyperfixation and I've been really enjoying writing it. That doesn't mean I've completely stopped writing over here on tumblr, it's just posts will occur (hopefully) once every month, maybe more if I have multiple ideas. Thank you all for all your patience, and please enjoy my first Draco x reader oneshot!!

Word Count: 6,878

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Being Ginny’s twin is like living in the world’s worst nightmare. 

Your mother only wanted one daughter, so when she found out she was having twins, she wasn’t particularly thrilled. And if she had to have two, why couldn’t they at least be the same? 

You and Ginny are complete opposites. She is funny, outgoing, charismatic, while you are the polar opposite. You’re quiet, anxious, and observant. She thrives in the spotlight, while you prefer the shadows. Where Ginny rushes into adventure with reckless excitement, you hesitate, overthink, and hold yourself back. It has always been that way.

So, it was a surprise—even to yourself—when you started developing feelings for a certain boy your family despises. 

Draco Malfoy.

He gets you in all the ways your family cannot. He understands things about you that even you don’t understand. The way silence isn’t always loneliness, how words aren’t always necessary, how there is strength in restraint. 

You weren’t sure when it started—maybe it was the stolen glances across the Great Hall or the times you found yourself unconsciously searching for him in a crowd. But if you had to pinpoint the moment you truly met, it would be in Potions.

He’s fairly good at Potions, you are absolutely not. You were barely scraping by and the end of last year, and Professor Snape—never one to waste his time on hopeless cases—paired you with Draco for tutoring. 

A Malfoy and a Weasley. The irony of it wasn’t lost on you.

"You’re quiet today."

Ginny’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts as she flops down beside you in the Gryffindor common room, her gaze sharp and searching.

"I’m always quiet," you mutter, staring into the flickering fire.

Ginny snorts. "Yeah, but this is different. You’re brooding. You only do that when something’s on your mind." She nudges your arm. "Spill."

You hesitate, your fingers tightening around the hem of your sleeve. Ginny knows you too well. But telling her? That’s a dangerous game.

Because if she ever found out the truth—about Draco, about everything—you’re not sure she’d ever forgive you.

You’re not sure if anyone in your family would ever forgive you. 

Sure, your eldest brothers—Bill, Charlie, and maybe even Percy—might forgive you. Considering the fact that they’ve always been more accepting, more willing to see beyond the surface. But Ron? The twins? Even your mum and dad?

You can almost picture their faces, a mix of disbelief and betrayal. Loving a Malfoy, of all people. It would be like tearing apart the very fabric of what it means to be a Weasley.

Ginny nudges you again, harder this time. “Hey, don’t go drifting off on me. What’s going on?”

You force a smile, but it feels more like a grimace. “It’s nothing, Ginny.”

Her eyes narrow, and you know she doesn’t believe you for a second. “It’s not nothing. You’ve been weird for weeks now. Even Mum noticed.”

Your heart sinks. Of course your mum noticed. Molly Weasley has a sixth sense for when something is off with her children. It’s only a matter of time before she corners you, demanding answers you can’t give.

“I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” you finally say, the words tasting half-true. “Schoolwork, you know?”

Ginny raises an eyebrow, her skepticism palpable. “You’ve never worried about schoolwork before. Even when you were failing Potions, you didn’t look this stressed.”

You wince at the mention of Potions, the memory of Draco’s steady gaze and patient explanations flooding your mind. How his fingers brushed yours when passing a vial, how his rare, soft smiles were like secrets shared only with you.

“Come on,” Ginny presses, her tone softer now, almost pleading. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m your sister.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of expectation and trust. She’s your sister—your other half, your constant. But this? This is something you’re not sure you can ever share with her.

“I know, Gin,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the crackling fire. “But some things are just… hard to explain.”

Ginny watches you for a moment, her expression a mix of frustration and concern. Finally, she sighs, leaning back against the couch. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But just—don’t shut me out, okay?”

You nod, the guilt pressing down on your chest. “I won’t.”

But as you glance back into the fire, the flickering flames seem to mock you with their restless dance. Because deep down, you know that as long as Draco Malfoy remains your secret, there will always be a part of you that Ginny—and the rest of your family—will never truly know.

It’s not like you want to keep your relationship with Draco a secret. It’s the fact that you have to. If his father ever found out about the two of you, he most likely would be disowned… or worse.

Draco started sending you cryptic letters the second summer started. It was your way of communication. Every letter was written in a carefully crafted code, disguised as harmless, impersonal conversation. 

To anyone else, they would seem like the ramblings of two bored students discussing Potions and Quidditch. But hidden between the words were secret messages, phrases only the two of you understood.

You remember the moment you realized what he was really saying. 

The first letter had been vague, almost like a test. “The potion ingredients you mentioned… I think they have more meaning than you realize.” You had been confused at first, rereading the words over and over until something clicked. He wasn’t talking about Potions at all.

And then the flowers started arriving.

At first, you thought they were a mistake, but no one in your family ever mentioned them. They would appear outside your window at The Burrow, tied with silver ribbon. A single stem at a time—deliberate, chosen with care.

You had to buy a book on flowers just to understand what they meant.

A blue cornflower—hope and anticipation. A white camellia—you’re adorable. A red tulip—declaration of love.

That was the one that made your heart stop.

That was the one that changed everything.

You kept every single one, hidden away in an old box under your bed. Pressed between pages of books, tucked into letters you never sent back. Proof that, for the first time, someone saw you. Not just as Ginny’s twin. Not just as another Weasley. But as you.

The fire crackles beside you, but your mind is elsewhere. With him.

“I’m going for a walk,” you say suddenly, standing from the couch.

Ginny frowns, tilting her head. “Now?”

You nod, grabbing your cloak. “Yeah. I just need some air.”

She watches you for a moment, as if trying to decipher something unspoken, but eventually sighs. “Alright. Don’t stay out too late.”

You murmur a quiet “I won’t” before slipping out of the common room, your heartbeat steady but quickening.

The castle is quiet at this hour, most students tucked away in their dormitories. You keep your footsteps light, making your way through familiar corridors, down winding staircases, until you reach the spot.

A small, tucked-away alcove near the entrance to the dungeons. A place no one ever pays attention to.

And he’s already there.

Draco leans against the stone wall, arms crossed, his pale hair illuminated by the dim torchlight. The moment he sees you, his expression softens.

“You’re late,” he murmurs, but there’s no bite in his tone.

You step closer, barely suppressing a smile. “I had to be careful.”

He studies you for a moment before reaching into his pocket, pulling out something small. When he extends his hand, your breath catches.

A flower.

A pink carnation.

I’ll never forget you.

You take it carefully, fingers brushing against his. Neither of you speaks for a moment, the silence filled with everything unsaid.

And then, softly, he says, “I missed you.”

Your fingers tighten around the delicate stem of the flower, your heart beating a little too fast. It’s ridiculous, really. You’ve met Draco here more times than you can count, exchanged letters all summer, deciphered secret messages meant only for you. And yet, every time, the sight of him makes you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something vast and terrifying.

His stormy grey eyes hold yours, searching, like he’s trying to commit every detail of your face to memory. Then, before you can process what’s happening, he leans in—just slightly, just enough that you can feel the warmth of him, the scent of expensive cologne and parchment and something unmistakably Draco.

And then, softly, he presses a kiss to your cheek.

It’s brief—chaste, even—but it leaves your skin burning.

You’re sure he can hear your heartbeat. It’s embarrassingly loud in your ears.

You swallow hard, staring down at the pink carnation still nestled between your fingers. Your voice is barely above a whisper when you finally say it.

“I’ve missed you too.”

Draco exhales, like he’s been holding his breath, and when you dare to glance up at him, there’s something unbearably tender in his expression. Like you’re something precious. Like you matter.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The castle is silent around you, the dim torchlight flickering against the cold stone walls. The world beyond these walls doesn’t exist. Not your family, not his, not the expectations, not the war that lingers in hushed whispers in the halls.

Just this. Just him.

Draco reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours, hesitant but certain.

“You know,” he murmurs, a ghost of a smirk on his lips, “one day, I’d like to do that properly.”

Your breath hitches, heat rushing to your face as you look away. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. Just fondness. Just the quiet kind of happiness you’re not sure you’ve ever had before.

You don’t say it, but you think it. I hope I’ll always be here.

It’s not some act of defiance you are trying to display. And, yes, you are aware of the fact that Draco has been nothing but horrible towards your family.

But he’s changed.

He’s stepped back. He’s stopped saying nasty things, he’s stopped bullying others, he’s stopped being… that person.

And, maybe, you had something to do with it. You don’t think Draco would ever admit it, though—however true it is.

You lean against the cold stone wall of your usual meeting spot, a quiet alcove near the entrance to the dungeons, just out of sight. It’s late, and the castle is hushed with the weight of the sleeping students inside it. You’ve just finished your prefect rounds, and exhaustion lingers in your limbs, but the anticipation of seeing him keeps you awake.

You think back to the first time you truly met him—not in passing in the halls, not in the context of family rivalry, but really met him.

Fourth year. Potions tutoring.

He had been annoyed at first, at Snape for forcing him to help a Weasley, at you for being so hopeless with brewing. You remember the sharp remarks, the condescending sighs. But you also remember the moment something shifted—that first time you understood something because of the way he explained it, the way his expression changed when he realized you weren’t as dull as he thought.

And now, here you are.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulls you from your thoughts. You barely have time to react before Draco steps into the alcove, his familiar scent washing over you—cologne, parchment, something distinctly him.

He doesn’t hesitate.

His hand finds your waist, drawing you close, and before you can say a word, his lips are on yours.

It’s still new, this thing between you—the kisses, the way he touches you with something close to reverence—but it’s welcome.

Your breath stutters, but you melt into him easily, your arms winding around his neck. You tangle your fingers in his hair, soft and fair between your fingers, and he hums—a sound of quiet contentment that makes your heart swell.

When you finally pull back, your face warm, you barely manage a shy, “Hi.”

Draco doesn’t let go. He keeps you close, his thumb brushing slow circles against your waist. “Hello,” he murmurs, his voice lower than usual, like he doesn’t want to disturb the fragile moment between you.

You stay there, pressed against him, basking in the rare peace of just being. No expectations, no secrets to keep, no families to disappoint—just the two of you.

Then, after a long silence, he speaks.

“I think my mother knows.”

You freeze. Your entire body tenses in his hold, but Draco doesn’t let go.

You pull back just enough to look at him, your hands still resting against his shoulders. Your voice is barely above a whisper when you ask, “Not about us?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “But… I think she knows I’ve been seeing someone.”

You swallow, trying to push past the lump forming in your throat. Of course she knows. Narcissa Malfoy is no fool. If anyone would notice the changes in Draco—the way he sneaks away, the way he seems lighter somehow—it would be her.

“How?” you whisper.

Draco sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She asked me the other day if there was ‘a girl’ I was spending time with. She was… careful with her words, but she knows me too well.” He pauses, his gaze searching yours. “I didn’t confirm anything, obviously, but she knows.”

You nod slowly, your heart hammering against your ribs.

“What do you think she’ll do?”

Draco is quiet for a moment, his grip on you tightening slightly. Then, with surprising certainty, he says, “Nothing.”

Your brows furrow. “Nothing?”

“She’s not like my father,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “She’s never cared about blood status the way he does. She wouldn’t approve, not openly, but… she wouldn’t stop me either.”

You exhale, a slow, measured breath. It’s not reassurance, not entirely, but it’s enough.

Draco watches you carefully, then leans in again, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I won’t let anyone take this from me,” he whispers against your skin.

And for now, that promise is enough.

But that promise doesn’t last long.

You’ve been agitated. Studying for the O.W.L.s is no joke.

Draco has been understanding in every way that matters.

He doesn’t complain when you’re too exhausted to sneak away as often as you used to. He doesn’t sulk when your letters become shorter, your handwriting rushed. Instead, he presses a kiss to your forehead when you do meet, tells you to take care of yourself, and reminds you—without words—that he’s still here.

But you haven’t been as careful.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re tired, distracted, too busy to think about every step you take. But deep down, you know it’s more than that. You’ve let your guard slip, just a little.

You’re just finishing up your meeting with Draco now, his hands warm on your waist as he lingers, reluctant to let go. He presses one last kiss to your lips, slow and lingering, before murmuring, “Go. Before someone catches us.”

You nod, exhaling softly, before slipping away from him.

The castle is quiet as you make your way back, the corridors dimly lit with flickering torches. You let yourself relax, just slightly, as you turn a corner—

And walk straight into someone.

You stumble back, heart leaping to your throat, and when you look up, panic surges through your veins like ice.

Ginny.

She crosses her arms, her brows furrowed. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you all over.”

Your mind races. Does she know?

You force yourself to stay calm, to school your features into something neutral. “Oh. Sorry, I was just—”

Ginny’s eyes narrow, scanning you, and you realize with horror that your lips are probably still a little swollen, your hair a bit mussed.

Think. Say something.

“You were just what?” she presses.

You swallow hard. “I—uh—prefect rounds. I lost track of time.”

Ginny doesn’t look convinced. “Really?”

Your stomach churns. You’ve been slipping up, you know you have. And now, with your sister standing in front of you, suspicion written all over her face, you’re not sure if you can lie your way out of this one.

“Uh-huh. Yep,” you say, nodding a little too quickly.

Ginny raises an eyebrow. She doesn’t have to say anything—the look on her face is enough.

“Sure you were,” she says, and then, with a tilt of her head, she adds, “but you’ve still got an hour.”

Your stomach drops. She caught me in my lie.

“Uhhh,” you stammer, scrambling for something—anything—to say. But your mind is completely blank.

Ginny watches you, her expression unreadable. Then, just as your panic reaches its peak, she does something unexpected.

She loops her arm through yours and starts walking, dragging you along toward the Gryffindor common room.

You blink, caught off guard, but let her lead you without resistance. The silence between you is thick, almost suffocating. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you’re not sure if it’s from the near-disaster you just avoided or the fear that Ginny isn’t done questioning you yet.

Then, after a beat, she finally speaks.

“You have a boyfriend?”

You sigh, shoulders sagging. There’s no use denying it.

“…Kind of.”

Ginny hums. “How long?”

You hesitate. Then, quietly, you admit, “Since summer.”

She nods, as if that makes sense, then glances at you again. “Is it… Michael Corner?”

You shake your head. “No.”

Ginny nods again, almost thoughtfully. “Huh. He’s been acting weird lately too.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you keep your mouth shut, hoping she’ll drop the subject.

No such luck.

“What year is he in?”

You hesitate for half a second before answering. “…Sixth.”

Ginny hums. “Is he in Gryffindor?”

You shake your head.

She exhales, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “Are you gonna tell me who he is?”

You swallow. “I’m… not ready for anyone to know.”

Ginny studies you for a long moment, then nods, squeezing your arm gently. “I understand.”

You reach the Fat Lady’s portrait, and Ginny mutters the password. As the portrait swings open and you step inside, you can’t shake the unease curling in your stomach.

I’ve got to be more careful.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

You didn’t mean to get upset with Draco.

But you did.

It had been a stupid argument, one that shouldn’t have escalated the way it did. You can still hear the sharp edge in your own voice, the way Draco’s expression had hardened, his frustration evident as he raked a hand through his hair.

“Why are you acting like this?” he had asked, voice laced with exasperation.

You had crossed your arms, your own irritation bubbling over. “I don’t know, Draco. Maybe because I’m exhausted? Because I have a thousand things to do and I can’t afford to get caught sneaking off every night?”

His jaw had clenched. “I never asked you to.”

And that—that—had been what set you off.

“Right. Of course you didn’t. But it’s still me risking everything, isn’t it?” you had snapped.

Draco’s expression had flickered—hurt flashing across his features so quickly you almost doubted it was ever there. But then his face had gone cold, distant.

“I didn’t realize I was such a burden.”

You had opened your mouth to say something—anything—but he had already taken a step back.

“I’ll give you space,” he had said, voice quieter now. “Since I’m clearly just making things harder for you.”

And then he had left.

That was nearly two weeks ago.

You haven’t spoken since.

It’s now the Christmas holidays, and you haven’t received a single letter from him. Not even the smallest, coded note. You’ve debated whether or not to send him something, but every time you pick up a quill, doubt creeps in.

What if he doesn’t want to hear from you?

So, you don’t write. And you’re miserable.

You’re snappish with everyone, your temper shorter than usual, your patience wearing thin over the smallest things. It’s only a matter of time before someone calls you out on it.

That someone, unsurprisingly, is Ginny.

She storms into your room one evening, arms crossed, her expression set.

“Alright, enough,” she says, planting herself in front of you. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You glare at her from where you sit on your bed, arms wrapped around your knees. “Nothing.”

Ginny scoffs. “Oh, please. You’ve been in a mood since we got home. Snapping at everyone, storming around like you’re about to hex the next person who breathes wrong—”

“I have not—”

“Yes, you have,” she interrupts, eyes flashing. “And I’m sick of it. You’re not telling me something, and I want to know what.”

You open your mouth to argue again, but the lump in your throat is too thick. Instead, to your absolute horror, your vision starts to blur.

Ginny’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of your tears, but she doesn’t back down. If anything, she crosses her arms tighter, her stance firm.

“Oh,” she says, her voice quieter now. But there’s still frustration beneath it, an unwillingness to let this go. “So there is something wrong.”

You shake your head quickly, blinking hard, trying to push back the sting in your eyes. “It’s— it’s nothing, Ginny.”

She scoffs. “Bullshit.”

You flinch, and Ginny exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair.

“You know, I’ve been patient with you,” she says, voice clipped, pacing at the foot of your bed. “We all have. We all thought, maybe, you just needed some space. But you’ve been awful to everyone lately. You barely talk to me, you snap at Mum every time she asks you something, you completely shut down whenever someone even tries to—”

“I said I’m fine,” you snap, but it comes out shakier than you intended.

Ginny whirls around, her brown eyes narrowing. “No, you’re not. And I don’t get why you won’t just tell me what’s going on! I’m your twin, remember? The person who’s supposed to know when something’s wrong? But you won’t even let me in.”

Her words hit like a punch to the chest, and the weight of everything crashes over you all at once.

You suck in a sharp breath, but it’s like you can’t breathe. Your hands grip at your knees, your entire body going rigid as the pressure in your chest tightens, and suddenly—

The tears spill over.

You don’t mean to. You don’t want to. But once it starts, you can’t stop.

Ginny freezes. “Oh.”

Your shoulders shake, and you press the heels of your palms against your eyes, trying to will the sobs back down.

Ginny hesitates for half a second before sitting down beside you, her voice softer now. “Hey…”

You shake your head, still unable to speak.

The bed shifts slightly as Ginny shifts closer. “Look, I didn’t mean to— I wasn’t trying to make you cry, I just—” She sighs. “Talk to me. Please.”

“It’s stupid.”

Ginny sits on the bed beside you. “It’s clearly not.”

You exhale shakily, willing yourself to get a grip. But your voice is small when you finally admit, “I messed things up.”

Ginny stays quiet, waiting for you to continue.

You pick at a loose thread on your sleeve, carefully keeping details vague. “I got into an argument with… someone. And now, I think I’ve lost him.”

There’s a pause. Then, something shifts in Ginny’s expression. It’s like something clicks.

“…You’re in love with him.”

You freeze.

The words send a jolt through you, your breath catching in your throat.

Love.

You hadn’t— You weren’t—

Except… you are, aren’t you?

Your heart pounds, your entire body going still. You think of Draco—his sharp wit, his rare smiles, the way he looks at you like you’re something worth holding onto. You think of his hands at your waist, the warmth of his touch, the quiet, careful way he had let you set the pace.

You think of how much it hurts to be apart from him.

“…Oh,” you whisper.

Ginny’s expression softens. “Yeah,” she says. “Oh.”

You swallow past the sudden lump in your throat.

Ginny nudges your shoulder gently. “You should write to him.”

You hesitate.

“Apologize,” she says. “Talk to him.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah… yeah, I think I will.”

Ginny smiles, standing up and stretching. “Good.” Then, with a teasing glint in her eyes, she adds, “And whoever this boy is, if he starts treating you badly, let me know, and I’ll handle it.”

A surprised laugh bursts out of you. “I’m sure you will.”

Ginny smirks. “Damn right.”

And then, with one last knowing look, she leaves you alone with your thoughts.

You take a deep breath, then pull out parchment and ink.

You hesitate only for a moment before pressing the quill to the page.

My Knight,

I’m sorry.

I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I was stressed, and I took it out on you, and that wasn’t fair.

You are not a burden. Not even close. If anything, you’re the only thing keeping me sane. I’ve missed you, more than I can put into words. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, but I needed to say this.

Please write back.

Love,

Your Supernova 

You stare at the letter for a long moment before folding it carefully.

Then, heart pounding, you seal it and set it aside to send in the morning.

You wake up with the same knot of anxiety in your stomach, the one that’s been twisting ever since you sent Draco the letter yesterday. Your thoughts race, each one a worst-case scenario. What if he doesn’t reply? What if he’s angry with you? What if he never wants to speak to you again? The questions swirl like a storm in your head, and despite the bright December morning outside, the world feels impossibly heavy. You try to push them away, but they cling to you, relentless.

It’s already noon when you hear the soft knock on your door. You’re not expecting anyone, but you know immediately what it is. Your heart leaps in your chest. Ginny’s standing there, holding a letter, and the panic hits you again like a wave.

"Here you go," she says, her tone light, but the knowing look in her eyes makes it clear that she senses your unease. She offers you the letter with a small smile, not hiding the fact that she knows how much this means to you.

Your hand shakes as you reach for the letter. "Ginny," you murmur, voice barely a whisper, "I can’t."

She watches you with a raised eyebrow, crossing her arms. "You’re freaking out over a letter? Relax, sis."

"I—" You try to steady your breath, but your hands are trembling too much to be still. You want to tell her that it’s more than just a letter—that this could change everything. But the words don’t come. "What if—"

She cuts you off, her hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. "Look, if it’ll help, I can read it for you."

Your eyes widen at the idea. "No!" You grab the letter from her hand, clutching it to your chest. "I want to read it myself."

Ginny laughs softly, shaking her head. “Alright, alright. Take your time.” She watches you with a mix of amusement and something more—concern, maybe. Her gaze lingers, but she doesn’t push, letting you have your moment.

With a deep breath, you rip open the envelope. The sound of it seems too loud in the quiet room. Your heart beats in your throat as you pull the letter out. The parchment is thick, the edges slightly curled from the fold. The familiar scent of ink and parchment fills your senses, but it's the feeling in your chest that’s the hardest to bear. The anxiety. The dread. The hope.

You unfold the letter, feeling the smooth paper against your fingertips, and begin to read:

Dear Supernova,

I’m sorry for not replying sooner. I’ve been thinking about everything you said, and I’ve realized that I shouldn’t have been so distant. You didn’t deserve that.

I don’t know where things are headed between us, but I want to see where it goes. I’ll do better, I promise. You’re worth more than the way I acted.

I’ve missed you.

Love,

Your Knight.

Your heart softens as you read his words, the relief flooding in with each line. It’s not as bad as you feared. In fact, it’s better than you’d hoped. The knot in your stomach begins to loosen, and you let out a shaky breath. For a brief moment, everything feels right again. He’s trying.

But then, something else catches your eye. A small, dried flower slips from the letter. You pick it up carefully, fingers brushing the lavender petals. It’s vibrant even in its pressed state, a perfect wild lavender, curled and fragrant, its purple hue still bright. The meaning of lavender strikes you instantly—devotion.

You smile softly at the gesture. It’s personal, thoughtful. Something Draco would do, if he was truly trying.

Your attention shifts again as something else falls from the letter—a piece of jewelry. You gasp softly, and Ginny leans forward as she notices it too.

You pick up the necklace gently, your fingers skimming the cool silver chain. It’s delicate yet sturdy, not too heavy but unmistakably expensive. The pendant is a small, intricate locket, polished to perfection, gleaming in the soft light of your room. You turn it over in your hands, admiring the fine craftsmanship.

It’s engraved with delicate swirls, floral patterns wrapping around the edges. When you open it, you find two tiny spaces, perfect for small photos. Your heart tightens as you wonder—did Draco have this made just for you? Or had he kept it all this time, waiting for the right moment to give it away?

A folded note slips from the locket, and you unfold it with trembling fingers.

Merry Christmas.

It’s Draco’s handwriting, neat and precise, though a little more formal than you’d expect for a casual holiday message. You smile at the simplicity of it, the warmth of the words, and yet, something unsettles you. Was he truly thinking of you when he wrote it, or was he just trying to smooth things over?

Ginny doesn’t give you much time to ponder. She snatches the necklace from your hand and inspects it, eyes wide in awe. “Ooooh, wow. This is gorgeous.” Her fingers glide over the pendant. “And… really expensive.”

You laugh nervously, your voice barely a whisper. “I—he didn’t have to—”

She holds it up to the light, her eyes glittering. "I don’t care what he had to do. This is way beyond what I’d expect from a… guy like him." She glances at you, raising an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the expensive gift.

You smile softly but it’s bittersweet. You’re not used to receiving gifts like this—not from anyone, especially not from someone like Draco. You glance back down at the letter, reading his words again, feeling the weight of them. I’ll do better, I promise. You trace the edges of the necklace absently, your chest tightening again.

Ginny stands there for a moment, watching you quietly. The room falls silent as you let the words sink in. But Ginny isn’t done yet.

She sets the necklace down carefully and gives you a sharp, knowing look. “So, is everything okay between you two?”

You freeze, unsure how to respond. The truth feels complicated, tangled in knots you don’t know how to untangle. “Yes... and no. For now, everything’s fine. But I still need to talk to him. I just need some time to figure it out.”

Ginny nods slowly, studying your face. “Alright. Just don’t let it go too long, okay? You deserve someone who makes you happy.”

You nod in return, grateful for her support. “I know.”

She stands, moving toward the door, then turns with a half-smile on her face. “Well, let me know if you need anything. And…” She glances back at you, a playful glint in her eye. “If he starts treating you badly, I swear I’ll take matters into my own hands.”

You chuckle softly. “I’m sure you will.”

Ginny smirks, then exits the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You sit there, the letter in your hands, the necklace resting beside you. You should feel lighter now, but something doesn’t sit right. You can’t place it, but there’s a tension in the air you can’t shake.

You try to dismiss it as nerves. Maybe it’s just the weight of everything that’s happened, or the confusion you still feel. But it lingers, like a shadow in the back of your mind.

Things slowly start to unravel the second you step foot onto Hogwarts grounds.

Christmas break had been a nightmare. All you wanted to do was apologize to Draco properly, not some half-hearted apologies in letters.

And now, as you sit in your secret meeting place, tucked away behind the old tapestry on the seventh floor, you can’t stop fidgeting. The silver locket rests in your palm, cool against your skin, the chain sliding between your fingers as you move it back and forth. It’s become a nervous habit over the last few days—something to ground you as you run through every possible way to say I’m sorry without completely breaking down.

What if he doesn’t forgive you? What if you’ve messed things up beyond repair?

The thought makes your stomach churn. You clench your jaw, trying to steady yourself. You just need to see him, to explain everything, to tell him—

The sound of footsteps approaching makes you freeze. Your heart leaps to your throat, and you barely have time to compose yourself before the curtain of the tapestry shifts and Draco steps through.

The second you see him, you don’t think. You just move.

You surge forward, throwing your arms around him, clutching him tightly like he might slip through your fingers if you don’t hold on. He stiffens for a moment, surprised, but then his arms come around you, strong and sure, pulling you against him. The familiar scent of him—clean parchment, expensive cologne, and something unmistakably him—fills your senses, and you let out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, Draco.”

You feel him shift slightly, and before you can say anything else, his hands cup your face, tilting it up toward him. You barely have time to register the soft look in his silver eyes before he’s kissing you.

It’s not rushed, not desperate—just firm and reassuring, as if he’s telling you it’s okay without needing words. The tension inside you unravels, and you melt into him, hands clutching the fabric of his robes as you kiss him back.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he murmurs. “Not anymore.”

Your throat tightens, and you shake your head slightly. “I do,” you insist. “I should’ve never made you feel like—like you weren’t important. You are. So much.”

Draco exhales slowly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You drive me insane sometimes, you know that?” His voice is soft, teasing, but there’s no real bite to it.

You huff out a weak laugh, sniffling. “Yeah, I know.”

His arms wrap around you again, holding you close, and you let yourself sink into the warmth of him. For a while, neither of you speak. You just exist in this moment, the weight of the last few weeks fading as you press your face into his shoulder.

He’s here. He’s yours. And this time, you won’t let your fear push him away.

The next couple of days have really taken a toll on you. You’ve barely had time to see Draco due to all the late-night studying you’ve been doing.

Today had been a particularly tough day. And in a desperate need to see Draco, you completely forgot to keep an eye out for anyone who might follow you.

You weren’t thinking straight. How could you? All you needed was to see him, and maybe, because of that need, you let your guard down.

And now, you are suffering the consequences.

You’re pressed against Draco’s chest, his arms wrapped securely around you as you shake in his hold. His hand moves in soothing circles along your back, and you clutch onto his robes like a lifeline, your body wracked with silent sobs.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice warm and steady. “Everything is going to be okay.”

You don’t know how long you stand there, buried in his arms, listening to his heartbeat as he whispers quiet reassurances against your skin.

“It’s alright, love,” he says, voice softer now, full of something you can’t quite name. “I promise, it’s alright.”

Eventually, your tears slow, your breathing evens out, and the weight pressing against your chest lightens just enough for you to finally lift your head. Draco tilts your chin up gently, his silver eyes scanning your face as if making sure you’re truly alright.

And then, he kisses you.

It starts slow—his lips brushing against yours like a question, as if making sure you want this. And Merlin, do you want this.

You kiss him back instantly, pushing yourself closer to him, your fingers threading into his hair. The tension of the past few days melts away as he deepens the kiss, one hand sliding to your waist, the other resting against the back of your neck. It’s intoxicating—the way he kisses you like you’re something precious, something to be cherished.

You’re so lost in the warmth of him, in the way he holds you, that you don’t hear the footsteps approaching.

You don’t even register the presence behind you until—

Someone coughs.

You and Draco break apart so fast it’s almost comical, your head snapping toward the sound.

And there, standing just a few feet away, is Ginny.

All the blood drains from your face.

She doesn’t say anything at first. She just looks at you, her expression unreadable, which somehow makes it worse.

Your heart pounds against your ribs. Ginny isn’t stupid. She’s piecing everything together in real time—the secret meetings, the necklace, your constant evasion when she asked who you were seeing. And now, catching you like this, wrapped up in Draco Malfoy like he’s the air you breathe—

You try to swallow the panic creeping up your throat.

“Ginny—”

But she’s already turning on her heel.

Your heart lurches. No, no, no.

“Ginny, wait!” You break away from Draco and hurry after her.

She stops, but only just, turning around sharply. “What?” she snaps, her voice cutting.

You flinch, but you force yourself to meet her eyes. Draco is right behind you, tense but silent.

“I—I’m sorry,” you start, voice uneven. “I should’ve told you sooner. There was a reason I didn’t—”

Something shifts in Ginny’s face, like a realization hitting her all at once.

“I’m not mad at you,” she says suddenly, though her voice is still tight. “Well, I am, but I’m more mad that you didn’t think you could trust me with this.” She exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. “I get why you didn’t say anything, because, yeah, it’s Malfoy—” her gaze flickers to Draco before settling back on you “—but you’re happy. I’ve never seen you this happy before.”

Your breath catches.

Ginny sighs, her voice softer now. “I see the way you act, like you’re my shadow. And, frankly, you’re treated like one. It’s not fair.” Her eyes search yours. “You deserve to have something that’s just yours. And if that’s him—” she jerks her chin toward Draco, “—then fine. But you should’ve told me.”

You blink at her, unable to speak. She’s not furious about who you’re dating—just that you hadn’t told her. The relief that floods you is almost overwhelming.

“I know,” you whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Ginny studies you for a moment longer before she finally sighs. “Yeah, yeah,” she mutters, shaking her head. Then, she turns to Draco, her gaze sharp as a dagger.

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

Draco actually chuckles—until he sees the look on Ginny’s face. He swallows, nodding. “Understood.”

Ginny hums, clearly satisfied. “I’ll see you back in the common room,” she says, glancing at you one last time before walking away.

Silence lingers in the air for a beat. Then, warm hands wrap around your waist, pulling you back into a familiar embrace.

You turn in Draco’s arms, looping your own around his neck.

“Well,” he murmurs, a small smirk playing on his lips. “That wasn’t so bad.”

You huff out a laugh. “I guess not.”

His smirk deepens, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Now we should tell Weasley about us.”

Your stomach drops. You swat his shoulder instantly. “Absolutely not.”

Draco chuckles, leaning in. “Fine, fine,” he teases, pressing a kiss to your lips. “We’ll save that heart attack for another day.”

[gangstalkerbarbie]

People treat autistic people as if they're, like, fairies or something, completely incomprehensible to the rest of man and ontologically not capable of anything we would call sin. They just work so differently, you know? Except they don't.

Actually it's just a brain wiring that makes you interpret the world in a specific way that, when you interact with the majority of people, who are allistic, unfortunately causes all of you misery.

There's nothing about that that education can't fix. I'm allistic, my mother isn't, I spent my whole life in the misery vortex usually experienced by autistic people, and what I got from there was an ability to come off almost kind of quasi-normal to autistic people by autistic standards. I thought I was stupid and broken and wrong on the inside, but I was perfectly able to be perfectly charming and normal, for a while.

My autistic friends frequently try to claim me, which is annoying but I see why — what allistic has ever been taught to understand them and value their perspective? No allistic could be except someone like me, with a largely autistic family who all believed that they were the norm or even an ideal and lived in a curated world largely designed around their preferences. We're just not that frequently the neurominority anywhere.

There's a specific way that autism interfaces with patriarchy and with the internet that produces recognizable effects:

Most autistic women, being women, internalise that the problem is them and live lives full of suffering, in the full belief that they could never even intellectually grasp what it is to be "normal". Some autistic women reject this paradigm but only have one other to turn to, and this is the type specimen of the femcel, a noble but tragically tormented creature.

A concerning number of dipshit autistic men start chanboards where they convince each other that they are the human default and socialize each other into considering the most unhinged and depraved shit normal, and then launch psyops against wider society from there because... something or other, resentment and noncomprehension probably, I don't know, I don't care. They used to do this in different ways in the analog world (if you've met enough clerics in any religion you will instantly know what I mean), the internet just made it easier.

Dipshit allistic men browse them too, but they don't usually live there, whereas the way it's designed and the ostensible community culture is engineered by autistic megachuds to attract and retain more of themselves in an endless, fetishistic spiral of miserywank. Somehow we've arrived at a point in the culture where young boys think they're super cool because they're under an impression that the insanity on those forums is what grownup society is really like under a veneer of feminism, which is bad because it means they have to listen to mommy.

The humour on there toes a specific line between casual self-deprecation, countercultural edgelorddom and internalised ableism that is deeply appealing to little boys, a weak demographic that everything male and older than them shits on from a giant sequoia and has in every patriarchy since the dawn of human memory. (Granted, less in some than others. Jewish men tend to be kind of normal about little Jewish boys.)

Autistic kids are particularly vulnerable to being groomed into such cultures because they offer them alternatives to an allistic world that doesn't want to try to understand them and punishes them for trying to understand it, and when you combine it with the general patriarchal impulse to solve all problems with mass violence, well.

I think this is a new phenomenon, probably enabled by online gaming, because I don't know how else this demographic would manage to interface with impressionable schoolchildren not already in the loop. But the way it works is very old, and it puts grown men into the world who think being autistic while male is a form of oppression so severe that they should just be allowed to do whatever to whoever in recompense. Call them out? They don't even have to defend themselves, people who want to use autistic people to virtue signal and believe that autistic men are all harmless little infantile oompsymoompsyboos will do it for them.

A mirror of this is readily observed on tumblr, where any time you tell someone with demonstrably similar socialisation that they worded something in a way that was kind of fucking shitty, they jump down your throat to tell you off for tone policing a 31-year-old neurodivergent minor.

Except I don't have to give a shit what anyone on here says ever, at all, whereas on 4chan the culture is gleefully violent and supportive of doxxing in exactly the kind of way you could expect from a collection of rancidly pseudo-macho autistic chuds who internalised the rules of the playground in 1990 and decided they applied to everything forever.

between kanye, elon, and thousands of misogynistic twerps on the internet i think we should finally be allowed to talk about how autistic men kinda suck and do weaponize their condition to excuse awful behavior.

[thewistlingbadger]

The reason why people fuck with s1 caitvi but don't fuck with S2 caitvi is because Caitlyn and Vi in both seasons are entirely different people.

In season one, Vi was a Zaunite who had been a victim to the enforcers her whole life. They killed her parents, harassed her people as she was growing up, put her family in danger, made her father make an impossible decision, wrongfully jailed her, abused her, etc. She was always very anti enforcers and anti Piltover. In season one, she has a cynical attitude towards Caitlyn and Caitlyn's beliefs. She's constantly saying things that challenge and conflict with Caitlyn's world view, and 9/10 times she's correct.

Caitlyn is arrogant and ignorant in season one, but despite her flaws she has a very good moral character. She believes in change, she is very empathetic towards others once she gets a glimpse at who they truly are, and she's willing to do whatever it takes to make sure what is right is what is done. She disobeys direct orders in order to uncover Silco and learn more about the Undercity in order to keep Piltover safe.

The contrast between these two, oil and water, is what made them so compelling. Caitlyn who is naive and inexperienced paired with Vi, who has just about seen it all and has been hardened by it. Vi, who isn't trusting matched with Caitlyn, who's willing to be open. When Caitlyn is with Vi, she's able to understand the vast depth the world around her has to offer; she learns things she never knew before. When Vi is around Caitlyn, she can allow herself to be vulnerable again, because she feels genuinely seen by Caitlyn.

Season two completely destroys their characters beyond what would be a reasonable amount. Caitlyn loses every ounce of empathy she had for Zaunites in season two, she no longer believes in their need for healing, she no longer cares about the local corruption of both cities...when you watch s1 or at least look over some of Caitlyn's lines, it's a night and day difference between her in s1 and her in S2. It's a difference that is so drastic and unlikeable that it genuinely doesn't feel believable that these characters changes are due to the death of her mother and the manipulation of Ambessa.

In season two, Vi becomes an enforcer, and while she is concerned about Caitlyn's increasingly aggressive attitude, she seems to have no concern for the actions they're committing. She seemingly is unbothered that she and Caitlyn and hurting tons of zaunites. She seemingly is unbothered that she is allowing and supporting the murder or Jinx. Later in the show, she literally lives in the Undercity alone, having seen the consequences of both their actions on a daily basis, and still she never has a moment where she reflects on that period of her life.

At this point, Caitvi are completely different people, and the reasons why we originally liked them don't exist anymore. Caitlyn in S2 decides that everything she saw with Vi, all the things Vi showed her don't matter to her anymore because Jinx ruined everything. She no longer has the capacity to feel bad for others because she's riddled with grief. She no longer is able to see Vi for who she is, literally saying "I keep telling myself you're different but you're not. It's her blood in your veins."

And so I ask the question: why are Caitlyn and Vi together in season two, if the core reasons for their initial attraction/relationship have ceased to exist? What is pulling them together other than history and "I can fix her" mentality? Why should I be rooting for them? Why should Vi want to be with Caitlyn in season two? Why should Caitlyn want to be with Vi in season two?

[koifishstick]

once upon a time DR - intro °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

hello! i’m fawn, your mischievous animal talent fairy straight from pixie hollow! pixie hollow is nestled within the heart of the enchanted forest, a place where faeries like me live, work, and thrive. we faeries are born from special little pods (yes, like a flower!), so I’ve always thought of my fellow faeries as my family. we stick together and look out for each other.

i’m a sprightly 222 years old, but don’t let the number fool you—faeries live way longer than humans (unless, of course, we’re taken down by some mystical force). reul ghorm, who’s like ancient history personified, is thousands of years old! i’ve had the pleasure of working with some pretty legendary faeries—tinker bell, astrid nova, and reul ghorm herself—so, you could say I’ve seen a few things in my day.

but in 1980, things got wild. one minute, I was happily fluttering around pixie hollow, minding my own business, and the next? i got yanked through a magic bean and dropped in a world that was... un-magical. yep, earth. no pixie dust. no wings. just... people.

i’d heard rumors about other worlds, but faeries are not encouraged to stray from their intended paths (tinker bell lost her wings and astrid nova lost true love, both for straying from their paths.. how lame). so, I had no idea what to expect when i landed here. turns out, not only was there no magic, but my rich and expansive history was considered children’s fantasy to these folks. i mean, seriously?

i mourned the loss of my wings, my friends, and my beautiful home in the enchanted forest... but instead of sulking, i decided to explore earth and see what it had to offer. i dove into different cultures, learned languages, and explored magical places that were completely devoid of magic. over the years, i realized that even though there’s no pixie dust, i was still aging at my fairy pace.

then, in 2011, while I was off adventuring in thailand, i met august booth. he turned out to be from the enchanted forest too! we had an instant connection, but things took a turn when he woke up to discover he was turning back into wood. he sent me off to storybrooke, to help break a curse that the evil queen regina had placed on the people of the enchanted forest. i am nervous to see my friends and family again after all these years, but i am eager to help restore the memories of my loved ones and do my part to get us all home.

so that’s my story! i’m fawn: a fairy in a world without magic, still looking for adventure, still making things happen, and still totally rocking it without wings. who says you need wings to fly, right?

[hyenamurena]

BEHOLD! My xeno-OC's! <з

(and sorry for my bad eng)

Osytanis

The howling Banshee from the Shrine of Weeping Bones. Shortly after the events of Rogue Trader, she will join the ynnari.

For hundreds of years, Osytanis traveled the galaxy, honing her skills and exploring the world around her. On her long journey, she saw death and the birth of stars passing by, dispelling the darkness for a brief moment before being swallowed up by it again. The interconnectedness of all things was becoming more and more clearly felt, the threads of fate intertwining every living being in the universe were becoming stronger.

Her age is "stopped counting after the first thousand."

She has experienced many roles and paths. Each new role did not completely replace the previous one, but simply added to the accumulated experience of Osytanis. Going through these various roles, she explored many aspects of her own character. At her current age, Osytanis has already experienced many different roles and achieved a complex understanding of the universe.

Osytanis professes the ideology of forcible imposition, has an over-the-top conceit, she's an asshole of the 80 lvl and an insufferable old goat. But at the same time, she is no stranger to the concepts of politeness - she will not be rude to people just to show that she is a bitch, she knows how to say hello, she knows how to say "thank you" and "please", and in some moments she can even be quite an attentive and responsive ally. She does not touch children and she is no stranger to heroic impulses. It is more pleasant for her to solve conflicts in peace than to fight, because if she has to fight, she will not stand on ceremony.

Arzokith

How good is Arzokith? The best of the best.

Arzokith was born artificially, one of hundreds of equally Dark Ones. And just as early, he realized that he wanted something more, and, most importantly, that he deserved more. With hard and persistent work, he made his way to the cherished Obsidian temple. So, already in the first raids, he managed to prove himself as a skilled, lightning-fast and resourceful killer. The success of missions was snatched away by his clawed hand, and after several centuries he finally decided that he was ready to become an incubus. The very fact that he has endured extremely difficult and grueling training says a lot about the essence of Arzokith.

Now, not a single living soul knows about his past, before becoming an incubus. And won't know. Never.

Arzokith is endowed with serpentine grace, and in his every gesture, in every movement, there is the purest impulse to violence. With his whole appearance, he radiates danger and inspires primal animal horror.

Despite his more than dubious and formidable reputation, Arzokith himself is generally quite pleasant to interact with. He is much more cool-headed and calm, and rather resembles a kind of bloody monk.

AND THESE TWO, WELL-

Arzokith has been associated with Osytanis for thousands of years. They cooperate, then they fight, then they help each other, then they fight furiously again. She can't help but single him out and respect him for actually keeping his words and promises. Every time Osytanis and Arzokith managed to cooperate, he mercilessly tried to mock her to death. It took a while for such flirting jokes to give way to mutual sympathy, and then strong love. They were able to open their hearts to each other and finally intertwine their destinies and hearts only 160 years after the events of Rogue Trader, during the active events of the Thirteenth Black Crusade.

Once he stabbed her with a sword and almost tore out her guts, but she managed to tactically retreat. With a sword in his belly. And the next time they met, she cut through his helmet with this sword and almost pierced his skull, and then he tactically retreated. And when they had to work together on the same side… then he mercilessly trolled her, and she almost cut off his face. With that, they had a tactical sex. For the first time.

Neither Osytanis nor Arzokith took each other seriously for a very long time. Rather, as a temporary hobby, a source of entertainment and to "let off steam" when the opportunity arises.

Both Osytanis and Arzokith are warriors who live only to kill. Almost immediately after the meeting, they realized that we were made for each other, but there is… circumstances. They swear with abandon, then they fuck with abandon. Their favorite steps are dancing on each other's nerves. They compete in venomous jokes at every meeting. In a simple way, their relationship can be described by the saying: "it's bad apart, it's close together." In fact, these two just adore each other, yes, they are literally one Satan.

However, their relationship does not stop Arzokith from having multiple sexual relations on the side. Osytanis doesn't mind. Sex is not so important to them, there is a completely different level of connection between them.

[enchantedchocolatebars]

I've seen a lot of people saying that Belos would have been better off being a character on another show and that Owl House didn't deserve him, but I've never seen people regret that Owl House doesn't belong to a channel with an older audience, like Adult Swim. Think about it. I love Disney for all the things that other people love and hate about it, but their main audience is children. Of course, everyone's favorite Alex Hirsch, was able to show a LOT of things not for children in Gravity Falls, but basically this show is about a town of humans, where the characters are mostly humans who do human things. Monsters, as part of the plot, appear in only twenty-five percent of the episodes and we know almost nothing about how they live. Boiling Isles is a place in another realm, a giant rotting corpse of an ancient powerful titan inhabited by witches and demons. Boiling rain is pouring from the sky, the oceans are boiling too, creatures like fire bees, spider-spewing griffins, slitherbeasts and hand dragons live all over the corpse. And despite this, witches and sentient demons behave like humans, react to things like humans. For fandom witches are just humans with different ears and magic and practical the same technologies and events and clothes that we have. They have only few things that makes them different from humans. We know that they make pies out of sentient fairies, we saw how Eda ate Adegast, we heard Lilith call Luz Eda's “human pet” and heard Eda say “Witches eating babies is so 1693”, but no one pays attention to it. People mostly discuss how cute Lumity is, or how bad Belos, Odalia, Tibbles and Kikimora are. People prefer to consider the Boiling Isles as some kind of utopia where everything is fine. But it’s boring. At first, the show showed one thing, and then abruptly began to show something completely different. Eda and King said that there is no weather on the Boiling Isles, but we never saw anything but boiling rain. We have never seen plagues, gorenados, shale hail, painbows and knife season.  

It's sad that people forget that Boiling Isles is a completely different world. It's very rare to see fanfiction or comics that take this into account. I have some Belos Redemption AU headcanons touching on this topic, but I have concerns that I won't get an answer. What do you think?

Hey, Anon!

I totally agree with you that the series should have had the witches act and appear more differently than the humans in the show, and about how the Isles isn't a perfect utopia.

Also, I think the Owl House works fine as a show for children / younger and older teens.

Not sure what you mean by when say that you won't get an answer (like I won't answer your ask?), BUT, AAA, WISHING YOU THE BEST ON YOUR BELOS HEADCANONS !!! 🫶

[veilosdaigoa]

Daily Writing Challenge February 2025 Day 5 - Navigate

Veilos leaned both elbows atop the desk, resting his face against his fists as he stared blankly at the closed door to his office at The Shielded Mind. All of his appointments for the day were finished, and he was done cleaning and tidying up. From the sound of it, or lack thereof, everyone else had finished up for the day as well and departed, aside from a small handful of night crew.

It had been about two weeks now since he had started working for the clinic, and while he loved the job and helping people, it still felt as if something were missing. He had been a career military man up until his medical discharge, and before the invasion of the scourge in Quel’thalas, he always had someone to come home to. Now, it was just him. He wasn’t seeking pity, his situation was no different from that of many others that had lived through that horrible event. The vast majority lost all or most of their family and friends, but not even the shared trauma could cure how lonely it could be. At times it felt like an impossible situation to navigate.

He could go home, he should go home, make himself dinner and focus on relaxing. Instead, he sat there and stared at the door, feeling completely unable to even make himself budge an inch. Depression was one hell of a drug, and even with proper medication and healthy habits, it never went away completely. However, if he kept sitting here and staring, his mind would start wandering too much and he would no doubt end up attempting to wash away his feelings at the bottom of a bottle.

Reluctantly and with a great amount of effort, he stood and made his way towards the outside of the building, breathing in the crisp twilight air. He didn’t want to go home just yet, but he also couldn’t stay here - so instead he wandered aimlessly. His path unconsciously brought him to the infamous Murder Row, a place he had previously done his best to avoid at nights. Although the way he felt right now, if anyone tried to fuck with him they would be in for a world of hurt.

A sudden, muffled roar of cheers and applause coming from inside of a nearby building immediately caught his attention. There were no bouncers present outside, so whatever this was didn’t appear to be some sort of private affair. He would find out soon enough. He walked into the dingy dive bar where a few patrons clustered around the small tables and bar - surely this was not where all that noise had been coming from.

“Brawl is downstairs if that’s what yer lookin’ for. Through them back doors and down the steps to the right.” The bartender called out while refilling a couple mugs.

He had visited a few brawling clubs in his younger years, but had never participated himself. While he was trained in hand-to-hand combat, being punched for fun and sport had never been his cup of tea. Regardless, he continued downstairs, eyes widening as the area opened up into a rather swanky club. It could be assumed this space was also used as a night club at some point, with all the bars and booths hugging the outside of the space and a large open ring in the center.

The excitement of the crowd gathered around the two fighters was contagious, and he found himself suddenly enamored with the entire atmosphere. He maneuvered his way to the front of the crowd, eagerly watching these two participants beat the absolute shit out of each other while everyone around placed bets, and smoked and drank and took drugs of all sorts with no fear of consequence. It was exciting and thrilling, the spike of adrenaline was more than he had felt in the past year.

When one man was finally knocked out, some of the crowd threw up their arms and cheered while others groaned at their loss. A couple large bouncer types dragged the unconscious man out of the ring as a gorgeous, fiery redhead stepped into the center with microphone in hand. “Well friends, it looks like we have an opening. Any of you brave souls want to step into the ring and show us what you got?” Before Veilos could even talk himself out of it, he found himself speaking up as he ducked through the barrier. “Me. I’ll do it.”

@daily-writing-challenge

[sun-is-emo]

NOT A SHIP!

Heres smth my mind cooked up at like 2am last night...

Grr i wanna make a post about how error an ink are like two sides of the same coin but how when presented with empathy and a grander existence one accepted with open arms while the other was shattered buy it

One the creators voices were something like a kinship to be encouraged while the other was treated like entertainment someone to get reactions from

They both live in a void type world but it really shows the difference between their personalities and their mental states

One has not enough emotion while the other has far too much of it

They were both broken by the greater multiverse

Yet they were forced back together (errors whole body being completely unstable)(ink not having a soul)

Error may view aus the way he does because in his mind they actively hurt him or somehing

While ink vidws aus the way he does cause aus actively keep him alive

Something else is they both basically have no recollection of the tragedy that created them..

They're both neutrals in the multiverse, sure error may seem like hes inherently evil but i see it more of him having a pessimistic view of aus while ink has an optimistic view of them (and we ALL know how bad some aus can be if youre in the fandom)

Error is isolation while ink is community in a sense

People forget that they arent just one personality- theyre both pretty complex once you look past the surface

[pardonmydelays]

RENT ESSAY PLEASE

VIVA LA VIE BOHEME!

oh, rent is literally one of my favourite musicals ever and i already saw four versions of it if i'm correct - the movie, broadway production with renee elise goldsberry, stage production with jordan fisher (because you all know i love this guy) and this one, our polish production. and honestly, this one was my absolute favourite, even if it wasn't the best one.

here's what i mean: the thing about musical theatre is that even if you love the original version with all your heart experiencing it live is just... on another level. it's different, it's better, because you're there in person. i think it's worth noting that i also saw tick tick boom last year, so two musicals composed by one and only jonathan larson in 2024 (and he is one of my favourite composers and his art means so much to me if you can't tell). it's crazy when you think about it. also, the fact that i could do this with my bestest friend in the world means absolutely everything to me.

i know i am always repeating myself, but damn, our polish cast was literally incredible (especially the actors who played mimi, angel and maureen - so vocally maureen was the best, but those three were my favourites). the entire cast was amazing tho, and the thing i already discussed with bel - i am usually not the biggest fan of mark, but damn, our polish mark was just great (i also loved his outfit).

the thing about outfits! i remember some kids who were sitting behind us were discussing the... bad and confusing choice of their clothes? but...? personally i think they did a great job here because i could recognize every single character as soon as i saw them for the first time on this stage and that says a lot, so where's the lie? (they had a lot of incorrect opinions tho and i just wanted them to shut tf up)

the choreography... ahh. i honestly have shivers when i think about it now. like i said, the entire cast was absolutely incredible, not only vocally, but DAMN THEY KNOW HOW TO DANCE. AND ACT. and this is the magic of live theatre - it's something you can only feel when you're there, seeing it on the screen is just a totally different experience. suddenly you start noticing things you have not seen before, and this is also what i want to talk about.

those of you who decided to read this essay probably know that musical theatre is a serious thing to me and i DO NOT engage with it because i want to be entertained - i do it because i'm looking for the truth, the message, for something that will change my life. and very often seeing it live changes my perspective completely - i suddenly find a whole different meaning, different things speak to me. so here's what happened: during another day (probably my favourite song from this production) i realized that this is literally the message i've been searching for. there is no future, there is no past, i live this moment as my last. this quote has been haunting me ever since. cause rent is not just about community, finding family in complete strangers, it's also about living your life like there's no tomorrow. much to think about.

i think rent hits the most when you're familiar with tick tick boom and jonathan larson's story. the funniest thing is that at the very end of it they literally showed a picture of jon and bel and i were the only people there who started screaming. what the hell. why are you even there if not for jonathan, people.

i seriously had the time of my life and i know for sure that i'll be back one day. amazing, beautiful, a little chaotic (just like this essay), but overall absolutely life changing. can't wait to see it again.

[thelunarfairy]

Idk why it feels like the God is just using Tsukasa.

Tsukasa clearly wants to make people happy but the God seems to say that to do that, you have to be willing to be eaten by it. You think it convinced Tsukasa to allow it to come into the real world and also convinced him to do everything because it will make people happy? I can’t sit by and say the God and Tsukasa have a mutual transaction when we don’t know how Tsukasa feels about anything until recently and even then, the way everyone mentions that this is the God’s doing… I don’t think Tsukasa really has any choice in the matter. He may think he does but I think it’s just a ploy so that the god can get more people to eat or else, Kako wouldn’t say that everything is because of the God. He would have included Tsukasa too

Hi hi deaaar!!!!

What I usually say is that the two live in an "exchange".

Tsukasa from the old reality, found the entity, was not afraid of it, taught it to speak and every day offered something in exchange for small wishes.

Since the entity was weak, it had time to create a "bond" with Tsukasa. Do you notice that little Tsukasa from the old reality almost never seems to be possessed in the red house?

Little Tsukasa from the other reality has a big difference in behavior from Tsukasa from the current reality.

Maybe, this period in which Tsukasa was with the entity caused the two to make a deal.

Which he accepted.

Tsukasa offered himself to the entity of his own free will, and he did it because he believes that Amane hates him and that it makes no sense to be by his side.

Maybe the entity made him believe this, we don't know, but the decision to sacrifice himself was Tsukasa's.

He says this.

And well, yes, the entity uses him, but Tsukasa uses the entity too.

It's the entity that gives Tsukasa the power to grant wishes, as long as you offer something in return (the same way as Hanako).

But between the two, the entity uses Tsukasa to attract more victims, like he tried to do with Kou and Nene.

While Tsukasa uses the entity to accomplish some things and control time (using the red house).

In the old reality, they work in partnership.

If we look at little Tsukasa's behavior inside the house with Nene and Kou, and his behavior in the new reality at school, you see an obvious difference.

And at the end of the red house arc, Tsukasa doesn't ask the entity for permission to return home, he informs it, he says he's going back and the entity goes with him.

So, there's this difference.

The Tsukasa of the old reality has control (most of the time) over his own actions and desires. I imagine that at some specific moments we see the entity acting on his body (usually when his eyes are dark or when he is very violent).

And in this reality, the two are looking for something in common, a partnership. The entity wants him to remove the seals, and Tsukasa wants to fulfill Amane's wish.

The Tsukasa of the new reality is just an empty shell, the only time he seemed to have consciousness was when he called for Amane.

But, in this reality, we see him being completely controlled, without expressing himself and without any sparkle in his eyes, he has no desire, after all Amane is alive. So, he has not created any bonds with the entity. He is being used to attract new victims, that's all.

The entity does not need Tsukasa for anything beyond that, after all, there are no seals, there are no yorishiros, the entity is free, weak, but free. It does not need to create an agreement with anyone.

So, that's the difference, of course I'm basing it on everything we have now, this may change in the future, because yes, despite everything, the entity doesn't care about anyone, all it does are contracts to get something greater in return.

Tsukasa is a very intelligent boy for his age, he made a choice, he sacrificed himself, he gave his own body and life to the entity in search of a wish, and he got it. Tsukasa doesn't care about anything else, so, even if the entity has control over him or doesn't give him any choice, Tsukasa himself chose his own destiny.

He only came back to understand why his sacrifice was in vain, and when he found out, he wanted to leave (something Amane didn't want to allow).

In the end, Tsukasa became a yorishiro, trapped by Amane until they do what (probably) the entity wants, which is to remove the seals.

Thus, Tsukasa will finally (according to his words) disappear and Amane's wish will be fulfilled.

Tsukasa gave up on himself a long time ago, so he is not afraid of anything, he does not care about anything, not even the entity. He just wants to see Amane happy, with or without him.