#who you should absolutely go listen too :^)

[katescorner]

suna "we're just friends" rintaro who's actually in a secret relationship with you, but feels the need to keep it a secret until it gets more serious because he's scared. except the miya twins have caught on, and they have a running bet going for who's going to spill first. atsumu thinks suna would rather keel over than admit to them he's dating someone, but osamu is smugly convinced that his friend's resolve is weaker than yours. so they decide to put it to the test.

it starts off . . . weird. osamu is putting moves on you, and you have no idea what to make of it. he's asking to walk you home and tells you that you should come to watch them practice. he even shoves atsumu out of their usual seat in the cafeteria to invite you to sit next to him. he seems really interested in you, and you don't want to be mean, but you also can't lead him on.

you're too focused on osamu's strange behavior to notice that he only acts this way when suna is around. so you don't see the way your boyfriend clenches and unclenches his fists when he overhears osamu wanting to walk you home after school. you don't hear the huff he lets out or how he slams his locker door a little harder when osamu invites you to watch them play with a well practiced smile. and you certainly don't realize the sheet white paleness that grows on his face when osamu shoves atsumu off the bench to make space for you.

suna doesn't blame you. his friends are idiots and getting on his last nerve. but everything comes to a screeching halt when osamu puts his arm around your shoulder, and suna absolutely loses it.

"we're dating!" it's the closest he gets to yelling without actually, but it's loud.

"damn it!" atsumu shouts, but suna doesn't hear. he practically has tunnel vision, zeroed in on where osamu connects to you.

"we're dating," he repeats through gritted teeth. "so get your grimy slimy spiker little hands—" he stalks over to osamu with surprising speed to knock his hand off of you, "off of my—"

"rintaro," you scold softly, and the twins try not to react when their usually unbothered and finicky middle blocker . . . listens?

"he—you're my—i'm—" he erupts in an aggravated groan and quickly decides to pull you to his side, away from osamu.

suna starts mumbling things under his breath they can't hear. his words are clearly reserved only for you, but the twins watch quietly anyway as you smooth away the worry lines growing on his face from his furrowed eyebrows and press a soft kiss to his cheek that has leaves them dusted in the slightest pink. he's whipped, and suddenly the only thing the miyas could think of was—how the hell did they not notice sooner?

yes i'm a soft lovesick sunarin truther. that man is a simp and i take no arguments

[mrsmarymorstan]

Keep a folder with all medical evidence you might need for applying for benefits, access cards, discounts and so on. It's much easier to just bring out the binder than it is to search through your files. Also make sure you have digital back ups!

Ginger is great for nausea too. When I first started Prednisolone I had really awful nausea, the only thing that settled my stomach enough to eat was fresh ginger in hot water. Stem Ginger Biscuits (cookies) are great too, along side things like Ginger Tea and Peppermint Tea. But fresh ginger root in hot water works best.

Get that mobility aid. The moment you start thinking that maybe you should get one, that's evidence that you probably should have been using it four months ago.

Look into what you can get. Not just in terms of Benefits, but any other sort of additions. I have a PA (the lovely @peacockfeatherbookmarks ) paid for by the council, and they're an absolute life saver! I've also got an access card to give me discounts and free companion tickets to plays, museums, and theme parks. My Blue Badge makes me exempt from the congestion charge too. Then there's things like the Freedom Pass for free buses and TFL trains, a taxi card for discounted Black Cave, and a disabled Railcard for 1/3 off rail travel for me + a friend, and probably more that I'm forgetting! Look into what your country offers and grab it with both hands, even if you don't think you need it. It's there, take advantage!!

For Brits: Remember to lie in your PIP form. Write it like it's your worst possible day and then exaggerate by 10%. My Epilepsy Nurse AND my Physio gave me this advice. Also don't be afraid to challenge decisions, even if it's just challenging phrasing on forms. You have earned the right to be a Karen.

And yes, friends with disabilities are the ones who will keep you sane. I have a discord group full of my Epileptic Friends and it's great to be able to go in there and bitch about stuff in ways that my able bodies friends won't get. Plus the Dark Humour gets me through the day.

Get a Dosset Box. It's so much easier to track if you have had your meds or not, and makes sure you don't forget something or over dose. Plus it saves space on the counter during the week. Mine has 4 compartments per day and each day is its own little pod, which means I can put it in my bag when I go out for the day.

And lastly: LISTEN TO YOUR BODY!!

If it's saying you need to sleep then sleep. If it's saying you need painkillers, you need painkillers. If you're feeling sick, have a sick day. If you try to push through then you're only going to get worse and it'll take you twice as long to recover. Don't try to conform to the world that isn't built for you. Fight against it, make it your own, force THEM to change instead.

I've been disabled for almost 29 years. Here's what I've learned.

Tablets sink and capsules float. Separate out your tablets and capsules when you go to take them. Tip your head down when taking capsules and up when taking tablets. Liquigels don't matter, they kinda stay in the middle of whatever liquid is in your mouth.

If your pill tastes bad, coat it with a bit of butter or margarine. I learned this from my mom, who learned it from a pharmacist.

Being in pain every day isn't normal. Average people experience pain during exceptional moments, like when they stub their toe or jam their finger in a door, not when they sit cross-legged.

Make a medical binder. Make multiple medical binders. I have a small one that comes with me to appointments and two big ones that stay at home, one with old stuff and one with more recent stuff.

Find your icons. Some of mine include Daya Betty (drag queen with diabetes), Stef Sanjati (influencer with Waardenburg syndrome and ADHD), and Hank Green (guy with ulcerative colitis who... does a bunch of stuff). They don't have to be disabled in the same way as you. They don't even have to be real people. Put their pictures up somewhere if you want; I've been meaning to decorate my medical binders with pictures of my icons.

Take a bin, box, bag, basket, whatever and fill it with items to cope with. This can be stuff for mentally coping like colouring books or play clay or stuff for physically coping like pain medicine or physio tape.

Decorate your shit! My cane for at home has a plushie backpack clip hanging from the end of the handle and my cane for going places is covered in stickers. All of my medical binders have fun scrapbooking paper on the outside. Sometimes, I put stickers and washi tape on my inhalers and pill bottles. I used my Cricut to decorate my coping bin with quotes from my icons, like "I've seen enough of Ba Sing Se" and "I need you to be angrier with that bell".

If a flare-up is making you unable to eat or keep food down, consider going to the ER. A pharmacist once told me that since my eye flares can make me so nauseous that I cannot eat, then I need to go to the hospital when that happens.

Cola works wonders for nausea. I have mini cans of Diet Pepsi in my coping bin.

Shortbread is one of the only things I can eat when nauseous. Giant Tiger sells individually-wrapped servings of shortbread around Christmas or the British import store sells them year-round. I also keep these in my coping bin.

Unless it violates a pain contract or something, don't be afraid to go behind your doctor's back to get something they are refusing you. I got my cardiologist referral by getting in with a different NP at my primary care clinic than who I usually saw. I switched from Seroquel to Abilify by visiting a walk-in.

If you have a condition affecting your abdomen in some way (GI issues, reproductive problems, y'know) then invest in track pants that are too big. I bought some for my laparoscopy over a year ago and they've been handy for pelvic pain days, too. I've also heard loose pants are good for after colonoscopies.

Do whatever works, even if it's weird. I've sat on the floor of the Eaton Centre to take my pills. I've shoved heating pads down my front waistband to reach my uterus.

High-top Converse are good for weak ankles. I almost exclusively wear them.

You can reuse your pill bottles for stuff. I use my jumbo ones to store makeup sponges and my long skinny ones to hold a travel-size amount of Q-Tips.

Just because your diagnostics come back with nothing, it doesn't mean nothing is wrong. Maybe you were checking the wrong thing, or the diagnostic tool wasn't sensitive enough. I have bradycardia episodes even though multiple cardiac tests caught nothing. I probably have endometriosis even though my gynecologist didn't see anything.

You can bring your comfort item to appointments, and it's generally a green flag when someone talks to you about it. I brought a Squishmallow turkey (named Ulana) to my laparoscopy and they had her wearing my mask when I woke up. I brought a Build-A-Bear cat (named Blinx) to another procedure and a nurse told me that everyone in the hall on the way to the procedure room saw him and were talking about how cute he was. Both of those ended up being positive experiences and every person who talked to me about my plushies was nice to me. If you don't feel comfortable having it visible to your provider during the appointment, you can hide it in your bag and just know it's there, or if you're in a video appointment, you can hold it below frame in your lap.

Get a small bucket, fill it with stuff, and stick it in your bed (if you have room for it). I filled a bucket with Ensure, juice boxes, oatmeal bars, lotion, my rescue inhaler, etc. in October 2023 in anticipation of my laparoscopy and I still have it in my bed as of January 2025.

If your disability impacts your impulse control (e.g. ADHD, bipolar disorder), you should consider setting limits around your spending -- no more than X dollars at a time, nothing online unless it's absolutely necessary, and so on. Or, run these purchases by someone you trust before committing to them; I use my BFF groupchat to help talk sense into myself when I buy stuff.

Feel free to add on what you've learned about disability!

[markleessodalite]

Loving You in Little Ways: NCT Dream

headcanon: how do the dreamies express their love for you in those small, almost unnoticed ways?

warnings: none :D its all fluffy baby

Mark:

Your humor becomes his.

Not only does he start stealing your jokes to use on his own friends, he also finds humor in things that might not have amused him before, just because they make you giggle.

Mark is already someone who thinks everything is funny, so how lucky is he to meet you, someone who finds humor in every situation?

There is rarely a time you two are together that you don’t have him in fits, and he thinks everyone should be able to experience the pure laughter and joy that you bring him.

(although his friends would argue that the jokes are not nearly as funny when he’s the one delivering them)

Renjun:

He gets you everything you need before you ask. Even before you realize you need it.

If he’s getting out of the shower and notices your moisturizer is a little less than half full, he’s stopping by the store to get you more tomorrow.

If you have the perfect pair of emerald earrings to wear with your dress tonight, but no necklace to match, he’s taking you to the jewelry store before the function.

All your special vitamins, hair care products, your favorite coffee, that one very specific brand of gel pens you use exclusively– whatever it is, Renjun just has a talent for noticing when you need it, and he’s the one to get it for you.

Jeno:

Little touches, anytime, anywhere.

Jeno may not always be super showy when it comes to expressing his love for you. He’s not a grand gestures kind of guy.

But there’s no doubt in your mind how he feels about you when his hands are on you 24/7.

Whether he’s lacing his fingers with yours while cuddled on the couch, pulling on the belt loop of your jeans to pull you in for a quick kiss, or tugging on the sleeve of your coat trying to get your attention off your phone and onto him.

You rarely go for more than a few minutes without feeling his fingers tracing along your body, searching for any little space to settle themselves in.

Haechan:

He wants to invite you to everything.

Sometimes dating Hyuck feels like dating all of his friends, too. If the group is planning to do something together, Hyuck’s first question is whether he can invite you or not.

Sure, it was a little awkward when you were sat on a bench watching them all play basketball, even though you were the only gf there, and you have absolutely no interest in basketball.

But Hyuck just can’t stand the idea of going out and having fun without you! Especially if its something thats not going to be fun– if he has errands to run, he needs you there with him to keep him sane.

If Donghyuck is going literally anywhere, there’s a 99% chance he’s begging you to go with him.

Jaemin:

Jaemin doesn’t love in little ways.

Everything with him is big, and grand, and romantic– and it doesn’t take much for small moments to become big.

One minute you’re cuddling on the couch, the next minute he’s twirling you around, copying the dancers on the tv.

One minute you’re sharing a soda in the kitchen, the next minute he’s cooking an extravagant meal for you to share at a candlelit table.

Jaemin has such a talent for making a random weeknight feel like the pinnacle of a romantic holiday, for turning microscopic sparks into fireworks, that you’re sure he somehow plans every single moment of your time together beforehand.

In reality, Jaemin just loves you, so truly and dearly, that he doesn’t know how to show it in little ways.

Chenle:

He listens. Particularly, he listens in moments when he’d usually be talking.

Chenle loves to talk, to discuss, to gossip, to yap on and on and on, and its certainly no different around you.

But in the quieter moments, when its just the two of you, he’s not talking or discussing or gossiping. He’s hanging on your every word, listening to you as if your story about an almost-forgotten high school memory is sacred scripture.

He takes everything you say to heart, which is how you discovered he’s a little more sensitive than you initially thought (and now you know not to joke about those few little things that make him tick).

He listens to you, drinking in every string of poetry that falls from your lips, and he remembers, ingraining every detail into his own brain until he knows you better than you know yourself.

Jisung:

He stares. He just kinda… stares at you.

You thought it was weird at first, especially when you would catch him and he’d immediately look away as if he’d just broken some unspoken rule.

Eventually you realized this staring was more a symptom of Jisung not totally knowing how to show you he loves you.

He’ll notice your hands close to each other while walking at night, and he’ll think about how he wants to hold it. Then he’ll think about whether he should hold it or not. Maybe you wouldn’t want him to, or maybe if he reaches for it you’ll pull away at the same time and it’ll be awkward…

and that’s when you notice him looking down at you a little too long, leaving you wondering what he’s thinking.

Of course, him being a little timid about affection isn’t the only reason he stares at you. He also finds you quite pretty– utterly captivating, actually, which is the main reason why he can’t stop looking at you.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: The Yapper, The Listener

Pairing: KK Arnold x Reader

Fandom: UConn's women's basketball

Rating: Fluff | First-Person POV

Summary: kk has always been the yapper, til you

Word Count: 1.4k

If you had told me a year ago that I’d somehow out-yap KK Arnold, I would’ve laughed in your face. I mean, KK? The loudest, chattiest, most relentless talker on and off the court? The same KK who could trash talk you into a bad game without even breaking a sweat? Yeah, right.

But here I was, sitting across from her at our usual booth in the student union, rambling about the absolute disrespect I’d endured in my morning class while she sipped her smoothie, nodding along like I was delivering the most important speech of the century.

“And then, tell me why this man had the audacity to mark my paper down a whole five points just because I ‘lacked conciseness’—KK, can you believe that? Lack conciseness? Babe, I am a storyteller. I paint pictures with my words.”

KK hummed, swirling her straw around her cup. “Mhm. Can’t rush the art.”

“That’s what I’m saying! He just doesn’t get my vision!” I huffed, leaning back against the cushioned booth. “Anyway, that ruined my whole morning. I had to go get an iced coffee just to recover, and then—”

I paused, narrowing my eyes at her. “Wait a minute. You’re way too quiet. What’s going on? You’re supposed to be my hype man in situations like this. Where’s the outrage? The energy? The unnecessary side commentary?”

KK smirked, resting her chin in her palm. “I mean… I figured you had it covered, mamas.”

I squinted. “What does that mean?”

She reached across the table, tapping my lips with her thumb. “It means you yap more than me now.”

I gasped, clutching my chest like she’d personally offended me. “That’s crazy. That’s actually insane.”

KK just laughed, settling back in her seat. “I used to think nobody could out-talk me, but you? You be talkin’.”

“Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, you act like you don’t love hearing me talk.”

She shrugged, lips twitching. “I do. That’s why I let you.”

That made me pause. My mind ran back to how things had shifted. When we first started dating, KK and I had been on the same level when it came to running our mouths. We’d banter back and forth for hours, seeing who could get the last word in (spoiler: it was usually me). But somewhere along the way, she’d settled into this… listening role.

Not because she had nothing to say—KK always had something to say—but because she liked hearing me talk.

I felt my face heat up at the realization. “Wait… have I just been yapping at you nonstop for months and you let me?”

KK grinned. “Mhm. And I don’t even mind.”

I stared at her. “I feel like I should be embarrassed. But I’m not.”

She reached for my hand, playing with my fingers. “Don’t be. I like it.”

And just like that, I melted.

Basketball practice had ended an hour ago, but I was still sitting on the sideline, waiting for KK to finish getting shots up.

Correction: commentating while waiting.

“There she goes, folks, lining up for the free throw—she dribbles once, twice—oh, she hesitates. The tension in the air is thick. Will she make it? Will she fold under the pressure? The crowd holds its breath—”

The ball swished through the net effortlessly.

KK turned to me with an unimpressed look. “You doubting me, mamas? That’s crazy.”

I grinned. “Never that, baby. Just setting the scene.”

She jogged over, resting her hands on her hips. “You ever thought about a career in commentary? You already talk enough for the both of us.”

I gasped dramatically. “So you admit I took your spot as the biggest yapper?”

KK shrugged, tapping my knee. “Go ‘head and take the title, baby. I like hearing you talk. You keep me entertained.”

I tilted my head at her, softening. “You really mean that?”

KK rolled her eyes, but there was a fondness there. “Yeah. Your voice is my favorite.”

Damn. How did she always make me feel like the luckiest person alive?

Later that night, we were curled up in my dorm, KK stretched out on my bed while I laid half on top of her, tracing patterns on her arm.

“I’m just saying, if you’re gonna sit there all quiet while I talk, I feel like you owe me commentary of some kind.”

KK raised a brow. “What kind of commentary?”

I huffed. “I dunno. Like little affirmations. ‘Mhm, that’s crazy’ isn’t gonna cut it all the time.”

She laughed. “Oh, so now you need me to hype you up while you talk? You getting greedy, mamas.”

I pouted, looking up at her. “I just like hearing your voice too.”

KK smirked before leaning down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Okay. Next time you go on a rant, I’ll gas you up properly.”

I smiled, satisfied. “Good. Because I’ve been holding in a rant about how the dining hall got rid of my favorite cereal and I need you fully engaged.”

KK chuckled, wrapping her arms around me tighter. “I’m all ears, baby.”

And just like that, I went right back to talking, knowing she’d listen to every word.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[yingdu-lover]

ah shitting on a new link click season

I've seen this before

drink your bournvita and go to sleep

honestly, now I know that even sensible people lose their mind if they are extremely active in twitter, it rewires your brain for the worse maybe

can you unearth the amount of literary allusion, cinematography, their basic significance and the plethora of other things yingdu has given? as a literature major who has a keen interest in 'literature and (it's relationship with) other arts (and cultural studies)' let me tell you, it takes a trained scholar to understand the nuance of artistic representation beyond the popular grip of 'plot'. It's not even the advanced theories rather it's the clear idea about the basics of artistic representation that differentiates an ignorant viewer and a critical thinker.

Then anybody would be directing donghuas, movies and what not.

"fan theories were better" so write then? see where it goes and what it signifies in the long run? Every artist has a vision and the plot is a vehicle to achieve that vision, not the other way around.

Just wanna roughly quote a renowned filmmaker : when you are a (classical) music enthusiast, you need to know the basics before joining a circle of other enthusiasts. when you are a literature lover, you have to have a sense of contemporary literary criticism. every 'hobby' needs some prerequisite knowledge. but you know what? if you have money in your pocket, you can go and watch a movie and boom, you are a cinema critic!

cheap internet access has done the same thing. and about popular media...if you are feeling that ' fanservice ' is diluting the plot, think twice because it's very hypocritical to be in a fandom (even being into shipping stuff) and getting surprised (like a genteel Victorian gentleman) at fanservice. Fanservice is the DEMAND of popular media. If you all were so much into serious stuff, the beautiful cinematography of 'the eye' should have been a dominant discourse now. And many other things.

season 1 and 2 had many weird lines for 'apparently' no reason at all, some things are very weird (and to some extent felt creepy to me), now pick them and bash them.

I am very critical of link click, and I absolutely DO NOT mind shitting on link click's weak points if one has solid and sound points. Link Click has so much potential and that's why it has immense pressure of not fucking up.

I perceive link click as a show the way I perceive lu guang as an individual. if you listen to my lu guang rants, you will wanna slap me for I'm brutally critical of lu guang I almost sound like a hater. but I still love him beyond belief.

shit on link click and please invite me too but please don't be dumb

[ask-the-golden-god]

*The arceus gave his body a stretch. A satisfying click followed, followed with a sigh of relief.*

Cepheus: Well, that was something. Ah, those vibes. The goo body was definitely fun. Oh right. I was leaving lol.

*The swirling portal stood behind him, sparkling with small stars. Cepheus took one more look at the beach, noticing some of the guests he had spoken to at this event. He wouldn’t forget any of them. Especially the two he couldn’t help. He had to figure out a way to be there for them. That victini. That poor, innocent victini. Fuck, it was awful for him to remember that Arceus. Temperance. What a vile individual. He shook his head and stepped through the portal. On the other side was a library, a familiar place to him. It was filled to the brim with a variety of different books he had collected on his many travels. Some from his own family, others from the minds of mortals. Hovering near one of the bookshelves was a mew, reading a book for themself. One of Cepheus’ best friends.*

Cepheus: ...Yeah. You're right. I just need to give them a little time.

Kel: And remember all the good you did too. That Lugia had a major moment of realisation. You were able to make that Calyrex release their hold on that flower crown it took. You were a positive influence to many of the folks down there. Bringing the chill vibes, as you said countless of times.

Cepheus: Heh, what would I do without you Kel? Always right like usual. That’s why you’re my right-hand mew.

Kel: You're capable of so much without me. You just need reminding of some of those basic things.

Cepheus: Yeah yeah. I get you. Regardless, it was actually a chill time. Definitely needed. Many most bodacious folks met. Those Magi. Absolutely radical. Love the advice they gave.

Kel: And what was your takeaway from that advice?

Cepheus: To wait for the right moment. And maybe try a little communication or something. I dunno. Who knows when his universe will open up to me?

Kel: Ah, exactly what me and your several children have said. Why is it that when we give advice, you don't listen to it but when another being comes along and gives you the exact same advice, you take it into consideration?

Cepheus: Sometimes advice has to come from another you're not familiar with to truly sink in.

Kel: Yes yes. I can see that. Ceph, what's the plan now then?

Cepheus: Spend some time with the kids. Travel around a bit. What I should have been doing instead of watching Aladar's atrocities.

Kel: Good. I'll join you too. Can't have you going back on your word. You've got to help yourself sometimes and that means not obsessing over his actions. You know we all say this because we care about you.

Cepheus: Yeah, I get that. I care about you all too. Perhaps I could check in on those two during my travels?

Kel: After you've seen your family.

Cepheus: Alright alright. Fam first then seeing if they're good. I got it. Time to see what the kids are doing then.

Kel: Oh, a word of warning. They have been watching your antics too.

Cepheus: Ah. So, I'm likely to expect a dog pile like before?

Kel: More than likely. I had to stop your friend Geode from coming down there because of that whole arceus thing.

Cepheus: And that would have been hilarious. Imagine. A zygarde appearing out of nowhere to defend a goomy. Ha.

Kel: Indeed.

*Slime Boi has left the Magi Retreat.*

*Cepheus is now available for asks.*

*Kel is now available for asks.*

[lulublack90]

Prompt 31 - Heaven

Wolfstar, January 31, word count 657

Previous part First part

Sirius was waiting for him nervously outside the front door of his flat. Remus’s stomach flipped, and his heart pounded at the sight of him. He quickly quelled those feelings and glared at the cowering man before him with a hopeful look in his eyes. He pushed past him and shoved his key in the lock, leaving the door open as an invitation. It was up to Sirius if he dared to come up. 

Remus paused as he entered the flat. It felt different. It took him a second to understand what had changed. Gone was his patchwork of charity shop blankets, and a new folding partition now took over that space. A new, plush sofa sat where his uncomfortable green one had. A new TV was mounted on the wall, and below it was a storage unit packed full of DVDs and blue rays. He ran his fingers over the many titles. 

“You have Netflix as well,” Sirius said quietly behind him, having snuck soundlessly into the flat. Remus spun around, staring at him, ready to take out his anger on him. “I’m sorry, Remus,” Sirius’s voice was even quieter than before, his eyes trained on the floor. “If I hadn’t ignored you, she’d have found out who you were and ensured she took everything for you. Job, home, future, she’s good at that,” Sirius swallowed, his jaw clenching as he blinked hard, trying to keep his tears from spilling over. He looked up, distraught. “She’d take you away from me just like she took Reggie, and I-I-I can’t go through that again. It would kill me,” His voice was little more than a whisper, and Remus couldn’t bear the broken look on Sirius’s face. He strode across the small flat and wrapped Sirius in his arms. Sirius sagged against him and sighed in relief. 

“I’m sorry I ran,” He whispered into Sirius’s hair. “It was cowardly, and I should have stayed to listen, but I was hurt,” He admitted. Sirius shuddered in his arms. 

“I’m sorry, Remus,” He said again, and Remus knew he meant it. 

“So, new sofa, hey?” Sirius nodded. 

“Yeah, that old one of yours was giving me back pain. This one reclines,” Remus let Sirius show him how it all worked and when he sunk into the thick, soft cushions, he groaned. It was heaven. “What do you want to watch?” Sirius asked him as he flicked the TV on. Remus didn’t even open his eyes. 

“Don’t care, sofa's too good. I might sleep here,” He moaned happily. Sirius chuckled beside him. 

“I might have got you one more thing,” He said, sounding oddly shy all of a sudden. 

Remus cracked open an eye and looked at him, waiting for him to continue. Sirius’s cheeks flared with colour. They were so pink that Remus was sure that if he reached out and ran a finger over them, they’d be hot. “I got you a new mattress,” 

Remus got up and went to look behind the partition. His bed looked just the same as it always had. He pushed his hand down on the mattress and it sunk in. 

“Shit,” He said before face-planting on the luxurious mattress. “Sirius,” He said, his voice muffled by the bed. “This is too much, you didn’t have to get me things. I would have forgiven you anyway,” Sirius shuffled over and gingerly laid down on the bed next to Remus. 

“It’s the only thing I could think of to do. I have a lot of money, Remus, and no one to spend it on, so, I spent some on you,” Remus rolled over. 

“Come here, you absolute annoyance,” Sirius wiggled closer and nuzzled his face against Remus’s chest. “Thank you for the gifts,” Sirius relaxed against him, and they stayed there for a while, quietly. Remus couldn’t believe how easily he forgave Sirius. But then, sometimes, that was what you did when you loved somebody. 

Next part

[diekleinesuesse]

Being best friends with Changbin:

Being best friends with Changbin would be an absolute rollercoaster of fun, chaos, and deep emotional support. From the outside, people might assume that he’s just the tough, confident rapper with a powerful stage presence, but as his best friend, you’d know the real Seo Changbin the softhearted, hilarious, and endlessly caring person behind the music

Endless Roasting Sessions & Playful Banter

One of the biggest parts of being best friends with Changbin would be the constant banter. He’s known for his quick wit and playful teasing, so expect to be roasted on a daily basis. But don’t worry it’s all out of love. Whether it’s making fun of your outfit, calling you “short” (even if you’re taller than him), or mocking your pronunciation of certain words, he’d always find a way to keep things entertaining.

Of course, you’d have to give it right back. Changbin loves when people match his energy, so if you clap back with an equally sassy remark, he’d just laugh and high-five you. The banter never crosses the line into anything mean he’d never want to hurt your feelings. Instead, it would be a constant game of who can come up with the funniest insult or the most dramatic reaction.

Gym buddies for live

Changbin is known for being one of the most dedicated gym-goers in Stray Kids. If you were his best friend, he would absolutely try to drag you to the gym with him. Even if you weren’t into working out, he’d encourage you to at least try it “Just come with me once! I promise you’ll feel amazing afterward!” (Spoiler: you might be sore for days.)

If you actually enjoyed the gym, you’d be his ultimate workout partner. He’d hype you up constantly “LET’S GO! YOU GOT THIS! LOOK AT THOSE GAINS!” and probably challenge you to random competitions like “Who can hold a plank the longest?” (He’d win, but you’d pretend you let him win.)

If you weren’t a fan of the gym at all, he wouldn’t force you, but he’d still send you random gym selfies with captions like “Guess who’s getting stronger while you’re still in bed?” just to mess with you.

Late-Night Deep Talks

Despite his energetic personality, Changbin is actually very sentimental and introspective. As his best friend, you’d get to see that side of him a lot. He’d be the kind of person who randomly texts you at 2 AM like, “Hey, do you ever wonder what life would be like if we made different choices?”

Whenever one of you was feeling down, he’d be the first to check in. He’d insist on meeting up whether it was going for a drive, grabbing late-night food, or just sitting on a park bench talking about life. He’s the type to listen carefully and give thoughtful advice, but he’s also really good at making you laugh even in your worst moments.

Likewise, he’d trust you enough to open up about his struggles too. He might joke around all the time, but he carries a lot of responsibility and pressure. As his best friend, you’d be one of the few people he could truly be vulnerable with.

Studio Hangouts & Exclusive Song Previews

Being best friends with Changbin means spending a LOT of time in the studio. He’s constantly working on new music, and he’d definitely invite you to hang out while he writes, produces, and records. He’d play you unreleased tracks and ask for your opinion “Be honest. Does this verse sound good, or should I change it?”

If you had any musical skills (singing, rapping, writing lyrics, etc.), he’d absolutely hype you up and encourage you to join in. Even if you didn’t, he’d still make you feel involved, maybe by letting you mess around with the soundboard or teaching you how to mix a track.

And of course, there would be plenty of silly moments too freestyle rap battles, making weird beats just for fun, and singing the most random things dramatically just to make each other laugh.

Food Adventures & Late-Night Snacks

Changbin LOVES food, so a big part of your friendship would revolve around eating. Whether it’s trying new restaurants, ordering way too much takeout, or late-night convenience store runs, he’d always be down for a food adventure.

He’d probably make fun of your food choices (“Ew, why would you put that on your pizza?”) but still end up stealing bites from your plate. If you ever cooked something for him, he’d dramatically rate it “This is a 10/10 meal. You should open a restaurant.”

And if you both stayed up late (which would happen often), you’d raid the kitchen together and eat snacks while watching random YouTube videos or talking about life.

Protective Big Brother Energy

Even if you were older than him, Changbin would still act like your protective big brother. If anyone upset you, he’d be the first to step up “Who do I need to fight?” (half-joking but also kind of serious).

If you were feeling anxious or insecure, he’d be the first to hype you up “Are you kidding? You’re amazing. They just don’t have good taste.”

And if you ever got lost in a crowded place or had trouble with something, he’d go full Problem Solver Mode, making sure you were okay.

The Ultimate Concert Hype Man

If you ever went to a Stray Kids concert, Changbin would go out of his way to make sure you had the best experience. Even if you were in the audience, he’d find a way to acknowledge youpointing at you, making silly faces, or hyping you up from the stage.

After the show, he’d text you something like, “Did you see how cool I looked? Be honest.”

If you were backstage, he’d be even more dramatic running up to you after the performance like, “DID YOU SEE THAT?! I KILLED IT, RIGHT?” and expecting you to shower him with compliments.

Nonstop Laughter & Unforgettable Memories

At the end of the day, being best friends with Changbin would mean never having a dull moment. He’s funny without even trying, and his energy is contagious. Whether it’s laughing until your stomach hurts, making up weird inside jokes, or having completely ridiculous conversations, he’d always make sure you were having fun.

But more than that, he’d be the kind of friend who sticks with you through everything the good, the bad, and the chaotic. He’d be your biggest supporter, your partner in crime, and your safe place all in one.

Being best friends with Changbin wouldn’t just mean having fun it would mean having someone who genuinely cares, who listens, who hypes you up, and who always, always has your back.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Chapter 2 - The Symphony of Stress-Relief

Previous Chapter 1 - The Symphony of Spite (Tumblr/Ao3)

A/N: Welcome, unfortunate souls, to The Symphony of Stress, aka corporate warfare with bonus smut, rare pairs, & questionable HR decisions. ⚠️ Warnings: ⚠️ ☕ Corporate Hellscape (accurate) 🔥 Petty Revenge (satisfying) 💼 Office Politics (violent) 🛑 HR Violations (constant) 🍷 Smut (rare pairs, unexpected bottoms, & pure nonsense) I swear I started this as a simple office AU, but then Gojo happened. Now we have mafia-tier HR, workplace sabotage, and the most chaotic company retreat in history. This fic is either the peak of my writing career or a cry for help. Do I regret it? No. Do I fear what I’ve created? Absolutely. 🚨 Engagement Bribe 🚨 Comment, or HR will personally schedule you for a mandatory compliance seminar hosted by Sukuna. (It’s just him insulting you for two hours.) Now, onto the madness.

Nanami was pissed off. Sukuna was enraged.

“He made my life hell!” Thrust.

“Screwed up every project I handed him.” Thrust.

“Humiliated me in front of clients and the entire goddamn office.” Thrust.

“Gave me so much stress that teenagers ask if I need help crossing the street.” Thrust.

“For five fucking years, and I kept him around because I didn’t want him to be homeless!” Nanami snarled, his grip tightening as he let out a string of curses that sounded way too professional, even in rage.

“Forget about Gojo.” Sukuna grumbled, dragging a frustrated hand through his hair. “How do I murder Hiromi and get away with it? He’s a particularly painful ulcer I can’t get rid of. And so is Shoko.”

"Short answer? You can’t,” Nanami exhaled, sharp and exhausted. “People will notice if they go missing. Handle it internally.”

“How though? The vuvuzela stopped being useful. They just talk over it now.”

“You figure something out—I don’t know!” Nanami snapped.

Tension crackled between them, frustration bleeding into every movement, every breath. They were exhausted. The weight of the company, the stress of incompetence at every level, the sheer audacity of their enemies—it was driving them both insane.

And you?

You choked out a sound—something between a moan and a gasp.

They both froze.

Sukuna let out a sharp exhale, his fingers flexing against your throat, and Nanami groaned, his grip tightening as he thrust forward again, harder this time.

Your vision blurred.

Nanami gritted his teeth, pushing deeper, as though willing every frustration he had into his movements. “This is the only part of my day that makes sense anymore.”

Sukuna’s hand curled under your jaw, tilting your head just enough to meet his gaze while you choked on his cock. His lips curled into something dangerous, something possessive. “Tch. At least someone listens when I talk.”

The room smelled like sweat, frustration, and corporate resentment. Their voices, filled with irritation, tangled in your ears, vibrating against your skin.

“We should fire Geto.” Nanami muttered suddenly, voice gruff, low, full of something that wasn’t entirely directed at you.

You felt Sukuna still.

“…Elaborate?” Sukuna’s voice was dangerous. Thoughtful. Almost intrigued.

“Think about it,” Nanami continued, his hands digging into your hips as he moved again, more fluid this time, his frustration turning into something deeper, something satisfying. “If we fire Geto, Gojo’s life will fall apart. His only lifeline in this company is a man who hates him. What happens when that’s gone?”

Sukuna’s sharp laugh sent a shiver down your spine. “That’s evil.”

Nanami hummed, satisfied. “Finally, you’re catching up.”

Sukuna’s fingers tightened against your jaw. “You hear that, sweetheart?” His voice was low, teasing. “This is why he’s the CFO.”

Your head spun.

And they were still talking about work.

Still fuming over business deals and incompetence.

Still plotting the ruin of their enemies.

And somehow, in all of it, they never stopped paying attention to you.

Nanami was dangerously close to snapping. Sukuna already had as he came in your mouth. “Swallow.”

You did.

“Good fucking,” came the praise as he positioned himself in a way that now you were lying on his chest as Nanami continued to give you backshots.

You were trapped in the middle of it, heat pressing against your skin, their rage fueling every sharp movement, every frustrated groan.

“She had the audacity—” Thrust.

“To ask for a RAISE.” Thrust.

“A RAISE, Ryomen.” Thrust. “After filing three HR complaints against me in one month.” Thrust.

Nanami exhaled through gritted teeth. “Who, exactly, does Mei Mei think she is?”

Sukuna let out a sharp breath, adjusting his grip. “A fucking problem. That’s what she is.”

"She knows she’s untouchable because HR babies her. She can’t get fired unless she physically assaults someone in broad daylight.” Nanami groaned, tipping his head back in frustration. “And even then, I guarantee HR would find a reason to keep her just like they did when she tried to assault Ino.”

Sukuna scoffed, angling your hips to take Nanami deeper, making you moan loudly. “If we can’t fire her, can we at least ruin her life?”

Nanami let out a dark chuckle. “See, this is the kind of thinking I respect.”

You whimpered, fingers tightening in Sukuna’s hair.

Neither of them paused.

Nanami’s grip on your waist tightened. “Give her the Nishimiya authors.”

Sukuna stilled for half a second—then let out a sharp laugh, filthy and cruel. “Oh, you’re a fucking monster.”

Nanami smirked. “She’ll drown in that workload. But she won’t be able to complain without admitting she’s in over her head. Either she handles it—or HR will finally have a reason to let her go.”

Sukuna hummed, satisfied. “And if she somehow pulls through?”

Nanami thrust deeper, slower, making your breath stutter. “Then at least she’ll be too fucking exhausted to bother us.”

Sukuna laughed again, breathless, rubbing his hand down your spine. “Brutal.”

You felt insanely hot, trapped between them, drowning in their sharp words, their executive-level scheming, their singular focus that never wavered.

They were venting, plotting, and orchestrating workplace sabotage—while using you to take the edge off.

Sukuna pressed his forehead against yours, kissing you sweetly. “You're our best stress relief, you know that?”

Nanami groaned, gripping your throat gently, his lips brushing against your hair as he muttered, “You deserve every fucking thing, darling.”

---

Across the city, Shoko stormed into Hiromi’s home office, twisting the lock behind her as her heels clicked against the marble flooring like the ticking of a corporate doomsday clock. Her jaw was tight, and the sheer venom in her eyes could have killed a lesser man.

Without a word, she shoved Hiromi back against his mahogany desk, and snapped, “Eat me out or I’ll strangle Sukuna with my own two hands.”

Hiromi, who had just removed his reading glasses, didn’t even blink.

Instead, he simply exhaled through his nose—the same damn perfectly arched nose that made most of the legal interns question their life choices—and set down his pen.

Then he smiled—slow, dangerous, understanding. “I will,” he murmured, voice deep and steady as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt. “But if you still want to strangle him after, I’ll help.”

That was all the confirmation she needed.

And just like that, Chief Human Resources Officer Ieiri Shoko and Chief Legal Officer Higuruma Hiromi—the two deadliest entities in the entire company—began planning Sukuna’s demise.

Hiromi—the composed, infuriatingly collected man—simply loosened his tie, shrugged off his suit jacket, and let her push him down on his knees as he began unbuttoning her pants.

The heavy weight of his mahogany desk pressed into her spine, hands effortlessly sliding her waistband down. His breath was warm against her skin, slow and controlled, because, of course, Hiromi didn’t rush anything.

Shoko, however, was done waiting.

“I mean it,” she gritted out, her fingers tangling in his thick, dark hair. “He’s…” sharp inhale “…a menace. I had to rewrite the entire handbook because of him.”

Hiromi hummed in acknowledgment, his obscenely attractive nose trailing down her stomach, brushing against her heat like he knew exactly what kind of reaction it would pull from her.

Shoko’s breath hitched.

“I had to add… a clause… about vuvuzelas in professional settings, Hiromi.”

Hiromi didn’t stop, didn’t react—just exhaled slowly against her clit.

Shoko groaned. “He tried to claim hand-to-hand combat as a valid team-building exercise. Kusakabe already hates everyone—he almost committed a homicide in a board meeting because of him.”

Hiromi sighed, long, suffering, and dragged his obnoxiously perfect nose up, pressing it against her clit like it was a legal strategy he was about to tear apart in court.

Shoko’s breath caught.

Hiromi pressed an open-mouthed kiss against her, his tongue flicking out just enough to make her whole body tremble.

Shoko fisted his hair. “And he submitted an expense report for a f—fuck—flamethrower.”

Hiromi still didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. His response came in the form of a slow, calculated stroke of his tongue, combined with his dangerously sharp nose pressing against her clit, rubbing in small, insufferably perfect circles.

Shoko’s thighs tensed, and fingers twitched, barely resisting the urge to yank him closer. “I’m gonna kill him,” she gritted out.

Hiromi’s tongue flicked against her, slow, deliberate, like he was waiting for her to elaborate. He arched a brow. Acknowledgment.

Shoko exhaled shakily. “The HR department stopped trying to fine him, Hiromi. Do you know how bad that is? That means we’ve given up. We’re just letting him be a workplace hazard now.”

Hiromi—without missing a beat, because of course he was still multitasking like the overachieving lawyer he was—arched a brow and traced slow, devastating circles against her clit with his thumb.

Shoko’s breath hitched.

“The last time HR gave up on someone,” she panted, fingers tightening in his hair, “we—ah—sent out a fucking memo—”

Hiromi was barely listening now, his sharp lawyer brain entirely focused on making her fall apart.

He knew she wasn’t done venting. Knew she needed this stress burned out of her system before she threw a letter opener at Sukuna’s head in the break room.

And he was nothing if not supportive.

So, he took his time.

A slow, lazy drag of his tongue and a press of his nose made her thighs twitch. Then let out a low, nearly bored hum as she tried to keep speaking.

“He stole my fucking Montblanc laptop bag. The one you got me from Belgium, Hiro,” she gasped, her head tilting back against his desk.

Hiromi—who had already accepted that Ryomen Sukuna existed purely to piss him off—blinked once.

She knew what that meant.

Noted.

“I—” Shoko inhaled heavily. “I filed a goddamn internal complaint with COO and he wrote back, ‘We understand your frustration, but Dr. Ieiri, let's embrace the cheos.’” She had a PhD in HR.

Hiromi blinked twice.

Disapproval.

Shoko was half a second from continuing her tirade—really, she was—until Hiromi arched his nose against her just right and—

Her words died in her throat.

A low, unfiltered moan slipped past her lips.

Hiromi let out a small, self-satisfied sound. His fingers dug into her thighs, firm but not urgent, like he had all the time in the world.

And Shoko—brilliant, smart, no-nonsense Shoko—could do nothing but let her head fall back against his desk as he silenced every thought in her head.

Which was probably for the best, because across his desk, her phone buzzed.

She didn’t hear it.

But Hiromi did.

And because he was a masochist who cared about work-life balance, he moved his mouth away just long enough to reach for it.

The name on the screen made him still.

Nobara.

He picked up, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth as he answered with a smooth, utterly unaffected voice.

"Yes?"

A sharp teenage voice snapped back, "Mom, where's Mom?"

Hiromi glanced at the desk—at Shoko, who was currently too busy falling apart on his fingers to answer.

He sighed, adjusting the phone against his shoulder as he resumed his previous task.

"She's busy," he said simply.

Nobara groaned in frustration. "Well, tell her I need to see her—ugh, whatever, Dad, just tell her to call me back!"

And then she hung up.

Shoko barely registered what just happened.

He threw away the phone and got back between his wife’s legs. Then he dragged his tongue lower, lower, before pressing his perfectly arched nose right back against her clit.

Shoko shuddered—but she wasn’t done talking.

“He’s too powerful.” Her fingers tightened in his hair, but Hiromi didn’t flinch. “The only reason his bullshit makes sense to anyone is because Geto translates it into actual strategy.”

Hiromi hummed again, this time in calculated approval.

Shoko’s breath hitched as she came with a shudder. “So we remove Geto.”

Hiromi finally pulled away, licking his lips, and pressed a kiss to her belly as he stared up at her with the patience of a man who had been planning murder long before this conversation started.

Shoko’s chest heaved.

Hiromi stood wiping her down with wet tissues from his desk.

“How?”

Shoko grinned, fixing her pants.

Firing Geto was impossible—on paper. He was competent. Too competent. He single-handedly turned Sukuna’s most brain-dead ideas into actual, viable strategies. If they got rid of him, Sukuna would collapse under the weight of his own stupidity.

But you didn’t fire people because they were bad at their jobs.

No, no, no.

You fired them because it was inconvenient for them to stay.

Shoko took a long drag from the cigarette Hiromi had lit for them to share, an infrequent habit. “We start by leaking a rumor.”

Hiromi tapped his finger against his chin. “Geto has worked late every night this quarter. That means overtime claims.”

Shoko grinned. “Which means expense fraud.”

Hiromi exhaled through his nose, amused. “Not illegal. But inconvenient.”

“Exactly.”

Shoko flicked the ashes of her cigarette into a tray and handed it back to Hiromi. “We’ll put him in charge of a diversity and inclusion project.”

Hiromi took a contemplative puff.

Then he smirked.

“That’s good.”

Shoko laughed. “It’s HR-approved corporate warfare. He can’t quit without looking like an asshole, and he can’t survive without running himself into the ground.”

Hiromi let out a low hum, something dark and knowing.

The plan was perfect.

And across the city, Sukuna—completely oblivious to the incoming HR-sanctioned murder attempt—continued to be the worst employee known to mankind.

---

On another side of town, Gojo was causing marital problems between high school sweethearts without even being there.

Ino's hands were seizing Suguru's hips, his fingers digging deep into the flesh as he pulled him closer.

Geto was seething. His entire body burned with frustration, his muscles taut as if he were holding himself together with a thin string. The fury had nowhere to go—nowhere, except the way his nails bit into Ino's back and took every inch his husband shoved into him.

"That bastard," Geto snarled, his nails digging into the mattress, his voice muffled but dripping with venom. "Five years, Ino. Five fucking years of doing the work of two people while that absolute waste of oxygen paraded around as an incompetent EA and a crybaby—"

Ino slammed into Geto, their bodies crashing together in a frenzy of angry sex. "Forget about Gojo for now, Suguru," Ino growled, his eyes blazing with intensity. "I don’t want to talk about work or hear another’s name on your lips when I’m the one making love to you."

He punctuated his order by yanking him back onto his horsecock so hard that the air left Geto’s lungs in a choked moan.

"So shut up," Ino growled, his fingers digging into Geto’s princess waist, bruising.

But Geto didn’t shut up.

Geto cried out, his eyes watering from Ino’s aggressive thrusts. "Don’t worry about him like that, baby. I genuinely hate him," he mumbled, his eyes flashing with fury. "I hate him so much; I want to eradicate his trust fund ass bloodline."

Ino's hand moved to tug at Geto's hair, while his other hand’s nails bit into his ass as he pulled him back onto his length. "That's not what I want to hear."

Geto's face twisted in a mixture of anger and pleasure. "Ta...Tacco," he stuttered.

But the nickname wasn't enough for Ino.

"He—he made me believe I was losing my mind,” Geto continued, his voice raw, breaking between every ruthless thrust. “That idiotic imbecile.”

Ino’s jaw gritted. The way Geto was clenching around him was driving him insane, but this wasn’t working.

He wanted Geto to break, wanted him to be writhing for him, moaning for him, screaming his name.

Not fucking Gojo’s.

So he changed tactics.

With zero warning, Ino slid out, flipped Geto onto his stomach, and pinned him down with one hand between his shoulder blades.

Geto barely had time to register it before Ino was slamming back into him, his grip tightening in his hair, forcing his head up.

“Say my name, Suguru!”

Geto gasped, his fingers twisting in the sheets, his back arching involuntarily as Ino pressed his chest against his spine, heat, muscle, and dominance.

But Geto was still fucking talking about Gojo.

"Do you know what it’s like to realize your entire career is a goddamn lie?” he snarled. “That you’re being played by an idiot with the attention span of a goldfish?”

Ino exhaled through his nose, frustrated.

Then he grabbed Geto’s jaw, forced his head back by yanking at his hair, and bit down on the side of his throat, hard.

Geto whined.

“Fuck,” Ino murmured, voice like gravel. "You’re still thinking about him? Fine—"

He pulled back just enough to wrap his hand around Geto’s throat, applying pressure—not enough to cut off his air completely, but enough to make Geto’s thighs tremble.

"You will say my name, Suguru," Ino whispered, dangerous, demanding, dripping with dominance.

"Or I’ll stop. Right now."

Geto whined.

That finally got his attention.

There was a beat—one second, two—then Geto arched back against Ino’s chest, shaking, wrecked, and screamed,

"INO!"

Ino smirked, victorious.

And then he fucked him into the mattress like he was proving a point.

---

The next morning, Geto arrived at work to find his email mysteriously stopped working, and the entire schedule disappeared. His desk was moved two floors down to an abandoned cubicle near the janitor’s closet.

He had sixteen new interns waiting for him with zero instructions.

His new title?

"Director of Internal Equity Initiatives & Community Synergy."

An email from HR in his new inbox. “We’d love to see you take a more hands-on leadership role in this space.”

It took him six seconds to realize Gojo had played him.

And standing in the doorway, sipping a venti caramel macchiato, was Gojo Satoru.

Smiling.

“Hey, champ. Looks like you got a big boy job now. Good for you.”

Geto nearly committed a felony.

By 9:15 AM, Sukuna stormed into his office.

“What the fuck is this?”

Geto exhaled, rubbing his temples. “…They promoted me sideways.”

Sukuna blinked. “The fuck does that mean?”

Geto leaned back in his chair. “It means… I have less power, more responsibility, and a workload so impossible that I’ll either burn out or quit.”

Sukuna stared at him, nostrils flared and fingers twitching.

He should have been the one to get him fired, for Nanami.

Then he turned on his heel, stormed out of the office, and screamed, “HIGURUMAAAAA!”

---

Shoko sat across from Hiromi, feet kicked up on his desk, filing her nails.

Hiromi calmly checked his watch, then winked at Shoko.

Shoko smirked. “He got the email.”

Victory.

Just then, his phone buzzed.

He glanced at the screen. His lips twitched—only slightly—as he read the caller ID.

He put it on speaker.

“Dad,” her teenage voice came through the speaker, sharp and impatient. “Where’s Mom? I need to talk to her.”

Shoko glanced up from her nails. “I’m right here, brat.”

Nobara sighed loudly into the phone. “Of course, you’re in Dad’s office. You two are always together.”

Shoko groaned. “Yeah, and?”

Nobara groaned back. “I need to stay over at Maki’s tonight.”

Hiromi hummed. “If Toji knows, then it’s fine.”

“He does. Also, tell Mom to stop smoking.”

Shoko smirked. “I make my own rules, baby.”

---

The first sign of catastrophe was the IT memo.

At precisely 9:25 AM, every employee at Kaisen Publishing received an internal email.

Subject: URGENT: NEW SYSTEM UPDATE (MANDATORY)

From: Satoru Gojo, COO

Attachments: [System Update Guide.pdf]

The entire office fell for it.

Nanami clicked the link.

Error 404: Skill Issue flashed across his screen.

Then his calendar turned into a neon green and pink mess labeled ‘Gojovision™’ with every meeting title replaced by:

“Mandatory Meditation with Your Favorite Boss 🥰”

“Lunch with That One Guy You Like But Never Admit (Me)”

“How To Accept That You Will Never Be As Hot As Me”

By 9:30 AM, Shoko, Hiromi, and Geto had barged into IT, demanding answers.

They were met with a lifesize cardboard cutout of Gojo, holding a sign that said:

“Sorry, I am too pretty to deal with your problems. Please cry elsewhere.”

---

The Fall of the Old Guard started.

Nanami’s desk was filled with tiny, laminated copies of Gojo’s employee of the month photo from 2019.

Kusakabe’s mouse was set to “Invert Y-Axis” permanently.

Toji’s office was replaced with an employee yoga room.

Sukuna’s vuvuzela was replaced with one that only played the Teletubbies theme song.

By noon, Hiromi and Shoko had begun plotting war.

Only Wife: We kill him.

Only Hiromi: Don’t use text; we can be tracked if Geto kills him first.

Only Wife: Then we kill him first.

---

In the afternoon, the entire C-Suite was summoned to the boardroom.

Gojo stood at the front, composed, smug, and glowing like he’d just emerged from a ten-day spa retreat in the Maldives.

Then, with unforgivable glee, he said, “Oh, by the way, Suguru? Your resignation letter was accepted. I just forgot to tell you. Pack up by Friday.”

Disarray.

Sukuna threw a chair at him.

Nanami supplied him with more chairs.

Geto went silent—just staring at Gojo like he was trying to manifest his death with sheer force of will.

And Gojo?

He sipped his coffee. Smiled.

And walked out.

By the end of the day, HR had officially surrendered, Sukuna’s war on HR had escalated into an actual HR vs C-Suite Mafia Conflict, and Nanami had developed a twitch in his left eye.

---

By the next working day, no one was safe.

But Gojo wasn’t done.

Oh, no.

Because while Shoko, Hiromi, Nanami, Geto, and Sukuna were easy targets, there were still more names on his list.

And Gojo believed in equal-opportunity vengeance.

As Chief Editorial Officer Haibara’s Executive Assistant, Ino Takuma had a big job. He kept Haibara’s entire schedule running smoothly, coordinated between every department, and ensured that Haibara never had to deal with idiots.

Which was why it was particularly devastating when, on Monday morning, Ino arrived at work and his entire email history along with his scheduled emails was deleted.

Every meeting?

Gone.

Every deadline?

Erased.

Every draft, every document, every client request?

Vanished into the digital void.

Even his backup files had been corrupted.

There was only one email left in his inbox.

From: Satoru Gojo, COO

Subject: 🖤 oopsies 🖤

Body: lmao my bad

Ino stormed into IT foaming at the mouth.

The IT Department, previously unbothered by the company-wide chaos, had finally lost its collective mind.

They pointed to the lifesize cardboard cutout of Gojo, now wearing sunglasses, with a second sign taped to it.

“Too sexy to fix your problems. Try again later.”

---

Ijichi, Shoko’s EA, had somehow avoided the first wave of destruction.

This was unacceptable.

Gojo corrected that mistake immediately.

Step 1: Change all his passwords.

Step 2: Disable his security clearance.

Step 3: Print every single complaint Ijichi ever filed about him (all 276 of them) and mail them back to him.

The cherry on top?

When Ijichi tried to log into the HR database, it redirected him to a singular, unskippable pop-up video.

It was Gojo.

Smiling.

Winking.

And saying, “Sucks to be you, bro.”

Ijichi cried in the break room.

---

Director of Customer Experience, Kusakabe Atsuya, and his EA, Hajime Kashimo, were next.

Kashimo, already one of the most chaotic employees at Kaisen Publishing, had somehow made the grave mistake of bullying Gojo back when he was ‘just an EA.’

Now?

It was payback.

Step 1: Gojo edited Kusakabe’s Slack contacts so that every time he tried to text Kashimo, it sent a calendar invite for ‘Advanced Handholding Techniques’ with Gojo Satoru.

Step 2: He rerouted Kashimo’s paycheck to a cryptocurrency wallet labeled ‘clownfunds.exe.’

Step 3: He signed Kashimo up for every corporate seminar about ‘Emotional Sensitivity in Leadership.’

By noon, Kashimo had physically launched a printer across the office.

By 3 PM, Kusakabe had locked himself in the storage room, whispering “this isn’t a problem” to himself repeatedly.

---

Gojo’s revenge against Fushiguro Toji, Chief Sales Officer—aka the corporate version of a war criminal—had to be more subtle.

Why?

Because Toji probably had knives.

So, instead of direct sabotage, Gojo planted the seeds of his destruction.

First, he redirected all of Toji’s client emails to spam.

Then, he moved his sales reports into a random, unlabeled folder buried inside a company drive from 2009.

By mid-afternoon, Toji’s office was in flames—figuratively—for now as he ripped through his entire system, trying to find out where the fuck his data went.

And Gojo?

He booked himself a three-week vacation and left them to burn.

---

By the end of the week, Kaisen Publishing had changed.

Ino had developed a jaw tick.

Ijichi was still locked out of HR.

Toji threatened to break Gojo’s legs.

Kashimo was trying to hack his own paycheck.

Nanami was on the verge of actual homicide.

Geto had been moved—again—to office admin.

Sukuna was planning an actual coup.

Kusakabe was in therapy.

Hiromi was thinking of going back to criminal law.

Shoko was openly encouraging physical violence.

---

Somewhere else in the city, you sat in your office, trying not to sigh audibly as your longest-coming patient droned on.

He had been talking for exactly forty-seven minutes without stopping.

For the last five years, he had been trying—desperately—to get closer to a man who refused to notice him. A man who was cold, detached, and frustratingly competent. A man who, despite all of his efforts, remained emotionally unavailable and deeply, deeply unimpressed.

You might have felt bad for him.

But he was here for a reason.

He was Yandere.

And you were getting paid to listen to this bullshit.

You nodded slowly, jotting down notes, making sure to maintain professional neutrality as he continued, oblivious to how completely fucking insane he sounded.

“—and every time I bring him coffee, he sighs like I personally walked into his home and unplugged his WiFi.”

“Mm.”

“—and I memorized all of his favorite foods, but he still calls me a liability and refuses to eat with me in the break room—”

You tapped your pen against the clipboard. “So, it sounds like he’s set very clear boundaries, and you’re—”

“Ignoring them?” The man scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “No, no, no. I’m just giving him space to realize he actually likes me.”

You stared.

He grinned.

You jotted down ‘delusional.’

Twenty More Minutes of Bullshit Later... “I even started dressing more professionally. You know—less fun, more business. He likes boring people.”

You raised a brow. “And has this change in behavior influenced his perception of you?”

The man hesitated.

Then:

“He yelled at me for messing up a report and called me the single biggest mistake of his career.”

“…Right.” You cleared your throat. “And how did that make you feel?”

He sighed dreamily. “Amazing. He only gets that mad when he really cares, y’know?”

You blinked slowly. “Right.”

You were about to recommend him a 72-hour psychiatric hold when he casually added:

“Oh, and I’m pretty sure he’s married, but I think that’s just one of those silly little obstacles we’ll laugh about later.”

You froze.

“…What?”

He waved a hand again, completely unfazed. “Yeah, yeah, I saw a ring or whatever. But, like, c’mon.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Whoever it is? He definitely doesn’t love them as much as he loves me.”

There was a beat of silence.

The patient smiled, oblivious.

“I just know he’s the one for me.”

You stared.

Then exhaled through your nose.

This was going to be a long fucking session.

After some more time, your patient was still talking.

You had long since stopped listening.

The words were flowing out of his mouth like a TED Talk no one paid for, his entire personality seemingly built around his obsessive workplace crush who didn’t notice him.

He drummed his fingers on his knees. “—so obviously, at this point, it’s only a matter of time before he realizes we’re meant to be.”

You hummed noncommittally.

He nodded, satisfied. “You get it. You’re normal.”

Your phone buzzed.

You glanced at the screen.

[Group Chat: ‘Why Is HR Trying to Kill Us’]

Nerd: We need to talk.

Frat Bro: Hilarious sentence considering you literally never want to talk about your little feelings.

Nerd: When were you gonna tell us our son got caught making out at university?

Frat Bro: LMAOOOOO, let’s fucking goooooo!!!

Nerd: And you high-fived him.

Frat Bro: HE’S 19, NANA, RELAX. AT LEAST HE’S NOT A LOSER ANYMORE.

Nerd: This is the third time I’ve had to lecture him about safe sex in a month.

Frat Bro: Oh my fucking god. YOU TALKED TO HIM ABOUT SAFE SEX AGAIN? DO YOU WANT HIM TO DIE OF EMBARRASSMENT?

Nerd: I will not allow my son to be ignorant about protection.

Frat Bro: Bro, we can have other kids; relax; he’s not the last of his bloodline.

Nerd: Stop calling me bro.

Frat Bro: Then stop texting like a middle school guidance counselor.

Nerd: That is what I feel like, considering our son is out here being publicly obscene while his father is high-fiving him for it.

Frat Bro: IT WAS OUTSIDE THE SCHOOL. BIG DIFFERENCE.

Nerd: IT IS NOT.

Frat Bro: Also, Toji was the one who showed up to pick up the other kid.

Nerd: Jesus Christ.

Frat Bro: He looked like he was ready to load a shotgun.

Nerd: He probably was.

Frat Bro: Yuji tried to dab him up.

Nerd: How did that go?

Frat Bro: Toji ignored him and smirked at his kid instead.

Nerd: Good.

Frat Bro: You’re a hater.

Nerd: I will not comment.

Frat Bro: You just did.

Nerd: I refuse to acknowledge your stupidity.

Frat Bro: Guess who he was making out with.

Nerd: Who?

Frat Bro: Megumi.

Nerd: …

Frat Bro: HAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA

Nerd: What?!

Frat Bro: TOJI'S OWN SON. LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Nerd: I am going to lie down in traffic.

Frat Bro: We literally work with his dad every day.

Nerd: Yes. And?

Frat Bro: Toji’s kid is making out with our kid. This means we are technically family now.

Nerd: I hate you.

Frat Bro: I love our gay little son.

Nerd: I am blocking you.

You locked your phone before you could scream.

Your patient was still talking.

“…I’m just saying it’s not stalking if you know their entire schedule and occasionally show up at their favorite places before they do.”

You exhaled through your nose. “That's all the time that we have today. Remember to do those breathing exercises and write the unsent letters I told you about.” You told him while politely kicking him out of your office.

This was the worst fucking day of your life.

---

Then it started with a memo.

A crisp white envelope landed on Nanami’s desk at precisely 11:01 AM. The paper was unnervingly smooth, the company seal embossed in blood-red wax.

To: Nanami Kento, CFO

CC: Ryomen Sukuna, CVO

From: HR (The Department of Consequences)

Subject: YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID.

Nanami sighed. Of course.

He had endured a lifetime of bad decisions, but he knew—deep in his gut—that this was about the kazoo.

//

Meanwhile, across the office, Sukuna leaned back in his absurdly large chair, tossing the memo over his shoulder like a receipt from a store he planned to burn down later.

“HR finally grew a pair,” he muttered, unimpressed.

Geto, his ever-suffering ex-EA, picked up the discarded letter and skimmed it. His brows furrowed. “They want a ‘mandatory compliance meeting’ with all C-Suite executives. That means you, Nanami, Hiromi, Shoko, Toji, Kusakabe, Haibara, and—” he hesitated.

Sukuna smirked. “Oh, let me guess.”

A loud crash echoed through the hall.

“NANAMIIIIIIIIII!”

Gojo had arrived.

---

The Meeting from Hell (Sponsored by HR)

At precisely noon, the boardroom was filled with an unusual mix of tension, HR vengeance, and coffee that tasted vaguely like regret.

Nanami, Sukuna, Shoko, Toji, Kusakabe, Haibara, Hiromi, and Gojo sat in a semicircle, facing HR’s new Director of Employee Conduct (DEC).

A man none of them had ever seen before.

He wore a perfectly pressed black suit, his ID badge labeled only as "HR"—no last name, no employee code, just HR in bold capital letters. His aura radiated pure, unfiltered administrative menace.

But Sukuna knew who he was.

His annoying half-brother, who’d followed him here too.

Choso.

Gojo, who had already slouched so hard he was practically under the table, raised a hand lazily. “So, what’s this about?”

HR blinked at him slowly, like a lizard assessing prey. Then he reached into his briefcase and pulled out—

A single PowerPoint slide.

One phrase. One sentence. One undeniable truth.

‘THERE ARE NO LAWS THAT PROHIBIT PHYSICAL VIOLENCE AGAINST EXECUTIVES.’

Silence.

Nanami stopped breathing. Sukuna sat up. Shoko took a sip of her coffee, unfazed. Kusakabe looked at the nearest exit. Hiromi took a deep breath. Toji smirked. Haibara’s eyes gleemed.

Gojo?

Gojo laughed.

“Wait, so you’re telling me—” he wheezed, tears forming at the corners of his eyes, “—that we spent years dodging HR complaints, only to find out they could have just punched us?”

HR closed his laptop, his expression blank, voice monotone. “Yes.”

The implications settled in.

Kusakabe, normally composed, whispered, “Oh, fuck.”

Sukuna’s grin stretched wider. “You’re telling me we could have been brawling this whole time?”

HR nodded.

“…No fines?” Nanami asked cautiously, his CFO brain twitching at the mere thought of an unregulated system.

“No paperwork?” Shoko added, hopeful for the first time in years.

“No lawsuits?” Gojo blinked, awestruck.

HR simply stood up, adjusted his tie, and walked around the table. When he reached Sukuna, he leaned down and whispered one word.

“Run.”

Sukuna barely had time to react before Hiromi—buttoned-up, put-together, legally-inclined Hiromi—flipped the fucking table and lunged at him.

---

One hour later, the office was in flames.

Sukuna had fought off three hulking HR representatives using nothing but a vuvuzela and a stapler.

Hiromi was locked in a full judo match with Geto, their fight crashing into the break room, where Geto flung a coffee pot at him like he was reenacting Die Hard.

Nanami, in an unprecedented move, drop-kicked Gojo directly into a vending machine, cracking the glass. Gojo slumped against it, blinking blearily as a Snickers bar fell into his lap.

Ino was booting Toji into a dirty mop bucket, while Haibara was beating the absolute shit out of Kusakabe for teasing Gojo back when he was an EA.

Kashimo had also shown up. Apparently, he’d gotten wind that Choso had rejected his PTO request to attend the world’s largest electric eel race. "It’s historical, you bastard!" Kashimo screamed as he launched himself across the room.

And Shoko?

Shoko stood in the middle of it all, watching the chaos unfold like she was watching a National Geographic documentary. She took a slow sip of her coffee and muttered,

“Finally, some real corporate reform.”

Then her own EA, Ijichi, showed up with a mop.

Shoko was surprised.

But the mop broke on impact.

Ijichi ran when Shoko put her cup down and smiled, cracking her knuckles.

---

Two Weeks Later, Jujutsu Corp. Was Different.

HR had installed ‘Employee Fight Nights.’

Disputes were now settled with bare fists.

Productivity skyrocketed.

Nanami had never been happier. He showed up to work early. He smiled—smiled—during meetings. He bought a new tie.

Gojo still sucked at his job, but now he had an incentive. If he failed too hard, he got thrown into the supply closet with only stale granola bars that tasted like cardboard and an unplugged landline.

Sukuna?

He thrived.

He was made for lawless corporate bloodsport.

And the HR department?

They finally got their revenge.

Order was restored.

The Symphony of Spite played on.

---

“WHO LET SUKUNA PLAN THIS?”

That was the first thing Nanami yelled as he stepped off the private jet onto the absurdly luxurious beach resort that Sukuna had somehow gaslit the board into approving.

The accommodations were individually staffed villas with ocean views.

The corporate expense budget had been thrown out the window.

The alcohol budget was bigger than the seminar budget.

Hiromi, Shoko, and Nanami all looked like they were considering a lawsuit.

Sukuna, sipping a frozen margarita, smirked. "Relax. It's all-expenses-paid. Enjoy it."

Nanami twitched. "Paid by who, Ryomen?"

"The company."

"Oh my god."

Gojo, who was already wearing sunglasses and a Gucci floral shirt, threw an arm around Sukuna and grinned. “Now, now. Let’s just enjoy the beach, Nanamin.”

"You’re a criminal."

Sukuna just laughed.

//

Yuji, excited to go to the beach, froze mid-step when he saw the last person he expected to see.

Megumi.

Making direct eye contact. Also frozen.

Maki, standing next to Megumi, squinted. “Wait.”

Nobara, standing next to Yuji, grinned like a demon.

“You two are here.”

Yuji blinked. “You’re here too??”

Megumi exhaled through his nose like a disappointed father. “Why are you here?”

“My parents’ work retreat.”

“MY parent’s work retreat.”

Silence.

The realization hit them all at once.

Their parents all worked together.

And then Yuta appeared, holding hands with Inumaki.

And then Ino and Geto showed up, hand in hand, deep in a heated debate over which SPF level was best for their adopted son Yuta’s sensitive skin.

And then Haibara walked over, sunglasses perched on his nose and a piña colada in hand, waving at them like a laid-back uncle at a barbecue. He ruffled Inumaki’s hair affectionately, a warm smile on his face. “Don’t forget to hydrate, buddy! And no energy drinks don’t count,” he called out, reminding everyone that he was always looking out for his adopted son.

The kids all collectively realized that their entire social circle was connected through some corporate nightmare.

Nobara, smirking, leaned on Maki’s shoulder. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

//

Ijichi did not want to be here.

He had already endured HR vs. C-Suite bloodshed, Gojo’s return from the underworld, and being locked out of his own system for three weeks.

But this?

This was worse.

Because this company retreat was nothing more than a week-long circus of corporate war crimes disguised as team bonding.

And somehow, HR had scheduled him for mandatory paddleboarding lessons with Kashimo.

Kashimo.

The one employee most likely to get them both killed in international waters.

He sat stiffly on the sand, watching as Kashimo flipped a paddle upside-down and used it as a microphone.

“This is bullshit,” Kashimo muttered, adjusting his sunglasses. “I was lied to. I thought we were gonna drink on a yacht."

"You could just do the activity," Ijichi gritted out.

"You could just not be a virgin," Kashimo shot back.

Ijichi considered throwing himself into the ocean.

//

You had had enough.

You had been ignoring it, trying to give your patient the benefit of the doubt.

But now that you watched Gojo laugh too loudly over a cocktail with Nanami, his sunglasses sliding down his nose, it clicked.

Your stomach dropped.

Sukuna was talking.

You weren’t listening.

Because it hit you all at once.

The man he had been talking about for five years—

The stoic, serious, emotionally unavailable, overworked executive—

The one he had been relentlessly pursuing for five fucking years—

—was your husband.

And Gojo had been lying about his workplace THE ENTIRE TIME!

You stood up, ready to throw hands.

“Oh? Are we finally doing this?” Gojo grinned, sliding his sunglasses down. “I was wondering when you’d figure it out.”

Before you could deck him, Haibara materialized out of nowhere.

"Satoru, baby no."

You froze.

Everyone froze.

Because Haibara—calm, nice, smiling Haibara—just wrapped an arm around Gojo’s waist and kissed his cheek.

Gojo grinned.

“Oh, right. Did I forget to mention? This is my boyfriend.”

The entire company retreat fell into silence.

Sukuna, sipping a cocktail, whispered, “Holy shit! I did not see that coming.”

Nanami removed his glasses and rubbed his temples.

Toji and Kusakabe cackled.

And you?

You sat back down.

You were going to need another drink.

//

Inumaki and Yuta had been in the pool for six hours.

They had witnessed everything.

Kashimo being thrown into the ocean by Sukuna.

Nanami having a mid-life crisis after seeing Yuji and Megumi together.

Toji and Kusakabe sneaking into a beach hut for two hours.

Gojo pulling an entire wine bottle out of nowhere and drunkenly making out with Haibara.

Megumi watched Yuji dive into the sand and sighed. “You’re so stupid.”

Then Nanami got a sunburn despite reapplying SPF 50 every hour.

Nobara challenged Maki to a tequila shot contest. Maki won and carried Nobara’s passed-out ass to bed.

While Nobara’s parents—Hiromi and Shoko—got day drunk and talked shit about Sukuna for three straight hours.

Geto threatened to sue Choso.

Gojo let Choso punch him in the face.

Ino defended his husband’s honor.

You helped Ino by punching Gojo.

Haibara appeared out of nowhere again to knock you out.

Ijichi hid under a flipped boat.

Yuta adjusted his sunglasses. “So…”

Inumaki, floating on a pool noodle, exhaled through his nose.

“…Your dad and my dad work together.”

“Yes.”

“…And your dad is fucking his CEO, while my dads hate your future stepdad.”

“Mhm.”

“…And we’re just supposed to pretend like this is normal?”

Inumaki shrugged.

Yuta groaned. “I want a refund.”

“We didn’t pay.”

//

Choso hated everyone.

Especially Kashimo.

Which was unfortunate because he was currently fucking him.

This was never supposed to happen.

HR was supposed to remain neutral.

HR was supposed to enforce the rules.

Not bend Kashimo over a company-paid resort bed and remind him why fighting HR was a mistake.

Kashimo, breathless, his hair completely ruined, grinned up at him like a complete menace.

“That’s all you got?”

Choso narrowed his eyes. “Shut up.”

He flipped Kashimo over.

HR was going to be compromised forever.

So it was HR vs. Kashimo, except HR is sleeping with him now.

//

By the next morning, Choso filed an official resignation letter.

It was denied immediately.

Kashimo signed it for him and then threw it into the bonfire.

HR was never recovering.

And neither was this company.

//

On returning day, the company jet was dead silent.

Nobody spoke. Nobody could speak. The air was thick with regret, hangovers, and the faint, lingering scent of bad decisions.

Nanami had not spoken a single word in three hours.

His shoes were gone.

His shirt was unbuttoned.

His soul had left his body.

Next to him, Sukuna was unconscious, head tilted back, drooling slightly onto his designer shirt. His sunglasses were still on, but his entire aura screamed, ‘I have been humbled.’

Toji and Kusakabe refused to make eye contact.

Nobody knew what happened between them on the last night.

Nobody wanted to know.

Geto and Ino, meanwhile, were inhaling sushi like they had survived a natural disaster and not a hangover.

Geto still had sand in his hair.

Ino was wearing a completely different slipper than any he’d owned.

They were each giving the other the better sushi.

Shoko and Hiromi, however, were unbothered.

They were annoying the shit out of Nobara and Maki by planning their wedding five years in advance.

“I think we should do two honeymoons.”

“Why? Are we planning to kill someone on the first one?”

“Shoko!”

“Fine. But I get to pick the murder weapon for our anniversary.”

Nobara, who had not stopped rolling her eyes for an hour, turned to Maki. “Trade parents with me. I’m begging you.”

Maki, scrolling on her phone, didn’t even glance up. “I’d rather fight God.” She would not give Toji up, not even for Mother Shoko.

Meanwhile in the back, Yuji was cuddling Megumi, half-asleep and murmuring nonsense.

Megumi, however, was staring dramatically out the window like he was in a mid-2000s emo music video.

Was he thinking about life?

Was he contemplating his future?

Was he wondering how his dad and his boyfriend’s dads worked together in a company that allowed Gojo to exist?

Nobody knew.

Yuta, sitting nearby, was applying sheet masks with Inumaki.

“You should use the hydrating one.”

“I should?”

“No, seriously, your pores are stressed.”

“Yours would be too if Gojo was to become your stepdad.”

“Toge, for the love of god, just—sit still—”

And then there was Kashimo & Choso.

Kashimo had fallen off his seat.

He was snoring loudly.

His shirt was missing.

He had somehow ended up in Gojo’s limited edition Gucci slides.

His hair was in his mouth.

Next to him, Choso was attempting to guest star in Megumi’s sad music video.

He had a perfectly timed melancholic stare.

He had a half-drunk mimosa in hand.

He looked like he was contemplating the meaning of life, the fall of capitalism, and why the fuck he was fucking Kashimo.

Gojo, meanwhile, was the only one having a good time.

He was fully refreshed.

He had zero regrets.

He was actively making things worse.

With a shit-eating grin, Gojo was typing ‘LET’S DO THIS AGAIN!’ into the company Slack.

He was practically in Haibara’s lap, who was leaving very visible hickeys on his neck like he was trying to mark his territory but knew peeing wasn’t an option.

Sukuna, who had just woken himself up with a snort, squinted blearily at them.

“…Is this workplace harassment?”

“No, this is my boyfriend, Yu.”

Nanami, still dead inside and contemplating his life decisions, muttered, “Did not expect Haibara to be into idiots.”

He sighed and continued. “Well, I’m into one too, so I guess that makes me a hypocrite.” He glanced over at Sukuna, who was falling back asleep with his eyes wide open, looking like a horror movie character caught in a perpetual state of shock. “Great, now I’m married to a zombie too.”

Gojo gasped. Not sure from the fact that he did not expect Nanami to be married to Sukuna of all people or from Haibara twisting his nipples through his shirt under the blanket he was dragging him under.

You leaned back in your seat, exhaled deeply, and closed your eyes.

This was, without a doubt, the worst corporate retreat in history.

And next time?

You were faking a medical emergency.

Ijichi wondered why he was still an adult virgin and called back the barista who’d flirt with him daily on his way to work.

---

Bonus

Toji Fushiguro hated authors.

No, scratch that—he hated this author.

"Akutami," he gritted out, struggling to keep his patience intact. "I get it. You're pissed. But Kaisen Publishing has been your home for years. You can't just walk."

"See, Toji, the problem is," they drawled, "I can just walk. My contract is up, and my sales numbers could make any publisher wet their pants. I’m a free agent, baby."

Toji was having a bad fucking day.

“I’m leaving,” Gege added casually, flipping through a heavily annotated manuscript as if Toji wasn’t one bad negotiation away from career ruin.

Toji sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not leaving.”

“I am. Unless…”

Toji narrowed his eyes. “Unless what?”

Gege took a long sip of their coffee. “Unless you convince me otherwise.”

Kusakabe, the Director of Customer Experience (DCE), leaned forward, visibly panicking, trying to salvage the situation. “We need you to stay,” he said, already sweating.

Gege grinned. “Oh? Do you?”

Toji had dealt with nightmare clients before, but this? This was some next-level blackmail.

“Alright, what do you want?” Toji asked, arms crossed.

Gege leaned back in their chair, smirking. “A better contract. No more deadlines.”

Toji laughed. “Yeah, no.”

Gege shrugged. “Alright, then I’m gone.”

Kusakabe leaned in, desperate. “Okay, okay, we can negotiate! What about—uh—a signing tour? Bigger advance? More creative control?”

Gege tapped their chin. “All very tempting.”

Toji sighed, rubbing his temples. “You are so lucky you make us money.”

“Oh, I know.”

"Look," Kusakabe added carefully, "you have creative freedom here. We’ve never censored you."

Gege arched a brow. "No, but you did reject my pitch for a dark BL thriller about two businessmen in a toxic, doomed relationship where one gaslights the other into insanity."

Toji pinched the bridge of his nose. "That was just Satosugu with stock market terminology."

"And?"

"AND?!"

Toji was mere seconds away from hurling a chair when, without warning—

The door swung open with a bang.

And there, framed in the doorway like he owned the place—like he hadn’t just attempted to sabotage the entire company three weeks ago—stood none other than—

Gojo, COO and Certified Workplace Menace.

Right behind him was Haibara, the CEO, exuding his yandere tendencies: unnervingly calm, fiercely devoted, and radiating pure ‘if-you-touch-my-man-I’ll-kill-you’ energy.

Toji's entire body locked up. “Fuck me.” Kusakabe closed his eyes.

"Good morning, peasants," Gojo greeted chirpily.

Toji took a deep breath. "Gojo—"

But Gojo? Gojo ignored him.

Instead, he sauntered in like he was walking down a Parisian runway, immediately throwing an arm over Haibara’s shoulders and dragging him into the corner of the room, whispering something low.

Haibara grinned.

Then? They started making out.

Full. On. Corporate. PDA.

Toji and Kusakabe froze.

Gege? Gege stared, their brain short-circuited.

Eyes wide. Expression blank.

And then, very, very softly, they muttered—

“…Holy shit.”

Toji snapped.

"GOJO, WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Gojo, still half-latched onto Haibara’s neck, turned slightly. "Hm?"

"TAKE IT OUTSIDE!"

Gojo blinked innocently. "What? We’re just showing healthy workplace affection."

"YOU ARE COMMITTING CORPORATE WAR CRIMES."

Kusakabe was already rolling up his sleeves. "I’ll hold him down. You punch."

Haibara, unfazed, stepped in front of Gojo like a human shield while Gojo continued to lick his neck like a Banshee.

"You’ll have to go through me," he said, smiling like a serial killer.

Toji deadpanned. "Man, are you good?"

"No." Haibara grinned wider. "But I love my boyfriend."

Gege had not blinked once.

Toji noticed.

“…What,” he asked suspiciously.

Gege took one slow sip of their coffee and tapped their fingers together like a scheming villain. Then whispered, "I’ve just had a brilliant idea."

Toji’s stomach dropped. "No."

"Yes."

"No."

"YES."

Kusakabe stared. “For what?”

Gege’s eyes gleamed. “For my next book.”

Toji, already furious, turned to Gojo. “Get the fuck out!”

Gojo, ignoring him completely, pulled back from Haibara just enough to grin obnoxiously. “Aww, come on, don’t be jealous, Toji~”

Toji lunged.

Kusakabe grabbed his sleeve. “Toji, please, we need HR clearance before murder—”

Gojo dodged effortlessly. “Damn, man, you’re still this fast? No wonder the ladies love you.”

Haibara, smirking, stepped in front of Gojo again. “If you touch him, I will end your bloodline.”

Toji stopped, considered it.

Then immediately started swinging anyway.

Gege leaned forward, gleeful, deranged, and inspired. "I’ll stay."

Kusakabe perked up. "Really?"

"But—" Gege drawled.

"Oh, for fuck’s sake—" Toji looked ready to retire.

Kusakabe sighed deeply. “What’s your angle here?”

Gege leaned forward, predatory. "I want the exclusive."

"The what now?"

"The Gojo Satoru Interview."

"You’re out of your goddamn mind."

Silence.

Gojo, running a hand through Haibara’s hair, froze. “…Huh?”

Gege set their coffee down. “I have questions.”

Then—

"Absolutely not," Nanami’s voice suddenly rang from the corridor.

Too late. Gege was already opening their notes app.

What had once been a generic publishing drama was now a messy, doomed workplace romance.

And for that? Kaisen Publishing was worth staying for.

Toji’s left eye twitched.

Kusakabe, still rolling up his sleeves, stared between Gojo (the problem) and Gege (the bigger problem).

Meanwhile, in the corner of the room, Gojo was back to kissing Haibara like he had a limited-time coupon for free affection.

Haibara, whose only goal in life was to enable Gojo’s worst decisions, continued to let it happen.

Toji inhaled through his nose.

"No."

Gege, smirking like a villain in the final act, tilted their head. "Oh, but thiccck dick daddy Toji~"

Toji’s soul left his body. "This is unprofessional. I hate it when you do that voice."

"I love it when I do this voice." Gege winked at him.

From the hallway, Nanami—who had been ready to leave, minding his own fucking business—paused mid-step.

Then, slowly, backed up, peering inside the room like someone checking if a murder was in progress. “…Why do I feel like I just walked into a lawsuit?”

Toji didn’t even look at him. "Because you did."

Nanami, already done with this conversation, turned to leave— "Wait!" Gege called. "Would you like to co-author a tell-all book about working with Gojo? You seem like the only boring one here."

Nanami stopped and turned around very, very slowly. "…What?"

Gojo, who had been minding his own business (making out with Haibara), perked up immediately. "Ooooh, memoirs? Nanamin, would you like my high school yearbook photos? I was so hot—like Justin Bieber can’t even compete hot."

"You were an asshole," Geto muttered from the window, where he was eating sushi like a man recovering from a war.

"You can be both."

Toji groaned. "Okay, no one is writing a tell-all book. Nanami, leave."

Nanami didn’t move. "I think I want to stay now."

Toji dragged a hand down his face.

Gege, thrilled, continued. “Okay, final terms: I stay with Kaisen Publishing, but I get an exclusive sit-down interview with your in-house menace. Uncensored. No PR team interference. No board review.”

Toji and Kusakabe shared a long, tired look.

Then, simultaneously, they turned toward Haibara.

Toji sighed. “Can you control him?”

Haibara, still being devoured by Gojo, smirked.

"No."

"FUCK!"

And so, against all logic, ethics, and concerns for public safety, the infamous interview was scheduled.

Nanami, who had decided to stay out of morbid curiosity, was already drafting his resignation letter.

Kusakabe had aged ten years.

Toji was considering faking his own death.

Gojo grinned, pleased with himself. “Oh, don’t worry, Toji. I’ll make sure it’s the most iconic interview of the century.”

Toji exhaled deeply.

"I hope you choke on your own hubris," Nanami sighed.

//

The location was Kaisen Publishing’s Private Lounge—aka where HR went to cry or hook up with Kashimo.

Toji had one job.

One job.

And that was to make sure Gojo didn’t say anything that could get the company sued, canceled, or worse—put on a ‘business leaders to watch’ list.

This, unfortunately, was an impossible task.

Because Gojo was already seated in the executive lounge, legs kicked up on the coffee table, wearing sunglasses indoors, and sipping a venti caramel frappuccino with extra whipped cream like he was about to bullshit his way through a TED Talk.

Gege sat across from him, recorder on, notebook open, smirk firmly in place.

Kusakabe stood off to the side, clutching a folder labeled ‘Crisis Control Plan.’

Haibara was nearby, sipping a matcha latte, keeping one homicidal eye on Toji and the other adoringly on Gojo.

Nanami, forced to be here as PR supervision—because Yuki was on leave—was already rubbing his temples, searching for an exit.

Cameras started rolling as Gege sat smiling like they weren’t about to ruin their own career. They cleared their throat, pen at the ready. “Alright, Gojo, let’s start simple. How would you describe your leadership style?”

Gojo grinned. “Sexy.”

Toji groaned. “Can we not?”

Kusakabe flipped through his folder. “I don’t have a backup plan for this. Continue.”

Gege nodded, unfazed. “Okay. Sexy. Noted. Now, how do you handle conflict resolution in the workplace?”

Gojo leaned back in his chair, smug. “With love.”

Silence.

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s objectively false.”

“Is it?” Gojo smirked.

“Yes,” Nanami deadpanned.

Toji nodded. “He nearly got into an actual fistfight with Shoko, the CHRO, last week.”

“That was a bonding exercise.”

“That was attempted murder,” Hiromi yelled from the back.

Gege jotted something down. “Okay, so you resolve conflicts with love and/or violence. Got it.”

Haibara smiled proudly.

Ino, Ijichi, Choso, and Kashimo exchanged exhausted glances.

Nanami was texting you about dinner plans like this wasn’t happening.

"Alright, Satoru," Gege continued. "Let’s start with an easy one—what’s your biggest professional regret?"

Gojo leaned back, adjusting his sunglasses. "Not committing tax fraud when I had the chance."

Nanami stared at him.

Gege perked up. "Oh? Elaborate."

Nanami intervened immediately. "Do not elaborate!"

Gojo shrugged. "I just feel like the U.S. government shouldn’t be the only ones allowed to rob people."

Nanami visibly aged five years.

After twenty minutes, Gege continued scribbling more notes. “So, to summarize, you believe—”

Gojo nodded. “That if HR gets to fight employees now, I should get to bring a sword to work.”

Nanami, staring directly into the camera, exhaled slowly. "Gege, I beg of you, move on to the next question."

Gege smirked. "Oh, you’ll love this one. Gojo—who’s the most annoying person you work with?"

Nanami tensed.

Gojo, grinning like a menace, turned to the camera.

"Suguru Geto."

Off-camera, Geto—who was minding his own business (here to send hate to Gojo with his husband Ino), sipping his coffee—froze.

Gege raised a brow. "But—he’s not even an EA anymore."

Gojo laughed. "Oh, I know."

Geto narrowed his eyes. “I will set your office on fire.”

Nanami, fully dead inside, was texting Shoko, begging her to fire him.

Gege continued again, unfazed. “So, Gojo. Tell me, how do you view your role as COO?”

Gojo grinned like he’d been waiting for this. “Oh, simple.” He leaned forward, shades sliding down the bridge of his nose. “I’m the glue that holds this company together.”

Silence.

Then, Kusakabe, Hiromi, and Toji actually laughed out loud.

Geto launched a pen at Gojo’s head while Ino held him back from aiming it right.

Nanami got up to leave.

Haibara kissed Gojo on the cheek.

Taking advantage of the disarray, Kashimo and Choso snuck off to make out while Ijichi started sexting his girl.

Gege was about to ask the next question when—

They saw him.

There, standing in the doorway, arguing with Shoko and looking like he walked out of a villain fashion ad, was—

Ryomen Sukuna.

Gege froze. Their pen dropped.

Toji noticed the shift in energy immediately. “Oh, God no."

Gege, still staring, whispered, “…is that Sukuna?”

Gojo looked over his shoulder and snorted. “Yeah. He’s married to Nanamin.”

Gege’s soul left their body. “You’re lying.”

Gojo grinned. “Nope. Wanna watch them interact?”

Nanami, who had just re-entered the room with a fresh cup of coffee, sighed. “Satoru, don’t.”

Gojo waved Sukuna over anyway.

Ryomen Sukuna—and his nonsensical title, corporate terrorist, HR’s biggest enemy—strolled in, looking bored as hell, completely unaware that Gege was currently having a breakdown over his existence. “What?” he grunted, looking at Gojo.

Gojo pointed at Gege. “Our little gremlin here is a huge fan.”

Gege, who was normally a menace to everyone else, was suddenly flustered. "Holy. Fucking. Shit."

Gojo and Nanami blinked.

Gege lit up like a Christmas tree. "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE!!"

Sukuna froze.

Gojo frowned. "Wait. What."

Gege was already standing, shaking.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. I LOVE YOUR WORK."

Hiromi was completely lost. "Sukuna doesn’t work."

Gege ignored him. “YOU. ARE. INCREDIBLE.”

Sukuna looked deeply concerned. "I literally don’t know who you are."

Gojo, offended as hell, observed, "Hold on. You didn’t react like this for me."

Gege waved a dismissive hand at Gojo. "Gojo, shut up. This is important."

“I—” Gege started, looking at Sukuna. Then paused.

Finally, they managed: "Do you believe in destiny?"

Then, to everyone’s horror, Sukuna smirked. "Are you flirting with me or trying to kill me?"

Gege beamed. "Why not both?"

Toji physically pushed Gege’s recorder off the table. “Okay, NO. We are NOT doing this.”

Gojo, laughing, leaned back. “Oh, this is getting good.”

Nanami stood up immediately. "Alright. This interview is over. Everyone please get back to work."

Gojo laughed. "Are you jealous?"

Nanami, dead inside, took a long sip of coffee. “I regret ever signing my marriage license.”

Gojo grinned. "Can I get a raise before your divorce?"

Nanami asked Hiromi and Shoko, “How do I submit a workplace harassment claim against the COO?”

Sukuna eyed Gege like a particularly annoying ant. "Are you done?"

Gege was absolutely not done.

"Can I write your villain origin story?"

Sukuna sighed. "Stop talking."

Gege scribbled notes. "THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT A VILLAIN WOULD SAY."

Gojo leaned back, smirking. "Looks like I’m not the only one inspiring doomed yaoi."

Geto was on the verge of homicide. “For the last time, that’s not what it’s called.”

And so, the interview ended in absolute failure.

Haibara, completely unbothered, just kissed Gojo again, who giggled like a schoolgirl.

But at least Gege was staying, already outlining their next tragic yaoi novel with Sukuna and a cryptid cat as the main characters.

Yes, they were the cryptid cat.

A/N: There we have it. I have no brain cells left. Gojo has won. HR has collapsed. Nanami is rethinking every life choice. And Choso is sleeping with Kashimo for some reason. I should stop. I should mark this fic Complete. But should I? I leave it in your hands. Drop a comment. Fight in the reblogs. Make HR proud. PS: If you've read this far, you are braver than half this company’s executive board. Now I'm officially out of ideas for this fic so lmk if you get any and help a girl out.

All Works Masterlist

[dutiful-wildcraft]

Metal Band AU

Because its been rotting my brain :^)

Soap, drums/vocals shares lead vocals equally, how this man can drum and sing at the same time is beyond anyone else. Never wears a shirt.  He and Gaz banter back and forth on stage a bit. Managed to break his sticks every other show. Dumps bottles of water on himself mid-show to cool off (you can literally see the steam coming off of him). Surprisingly does most of the lyrical writing for the group.  He always does the little thank you speech and introduces everyone at the end. Jumps onto Ghost's back every time they leave stage. The larger man carries him dutifully. 

Gaz, rhythm guitar/ lead vocals. Can't stop moving around stage. Bouncing between the others. Is grinning the entire time. Fucks with Price and Ghost during their solos, flirtatiously leans on them, rubs their chest, hugs a leg dreamily.  Chatty, loves to start a pit. Mostly just throws in genuine “Thank yous’” between every song. Playfully shoos away Ghost away from his center stage like a little brat after Ghost’s solo. Plays the piano for the trademark ballad. Flirts with the crowd while on stage. 

Price, Bass/backing vocals. Sickening in how well he plays, not super energetic on stage, most of its pacing and occasionally propping a leg up on a speaker. Rarely talks, but does play a bit with the crowd. Pointing, giving cheeky winks or blowing kisses. Wanders over to Gaz mostly, giving him a playful kick or nudge. Smiling warmly. Will climb down himself to pass off his pick to a lovely fan. He is dressed wildly different than that overall vibe of the band. Usually a flannel and beanie. 

Ghost, lead guitar. Absolutely shreds. Where’s the same exact outfit every time. Keeps the balaclava and hood up the entire show. All the fans have the hots for him bc of it.  No one knows how the hood stays with all the headbanging. (it’s velcro)  Semi-frightening on stage. Never speaks. Unphased by Gaz wallowing on him. He and Price move around each other with grace. Fans have noticed that he's the most playful with Soap. They do a bit where they trade places during certain songs. Ghost pretends to be exasperated with the shorter scott trying to steal his guitar. (They actually do pretty well on the others instrument). Occasionally he’ll chunk his extra picks at Price from across stage to fuck with him.

[necrotic-nephilim]

for the ask game (1)

au where bruce is attracted to his robins and batgirls. he tries not to think about it or act on it, but it's getting more difficult with every new member of his team he acquires. does anyone know? do the robins and batgirls notice his weird behavior? what do they do about it? do they ever find out the truth? who would think it's terrible and who would find it strangely hot/comforting/nice? does bruce ever act on his feelings?

for the ask game!

oh my GOD do i have thoughts for AUs like this, i love this shit so dearly, dirtybadwrong Bruce who's trying to keep a lid on it my beloved.

i think the fun of this AU is if characters would notice Bruce lusting for themselves vs would they notice Bruce lusting for a different Robin/Batgirl. like does Dick pick up on it when it's just him and Bruce? no, because it's just. him and Bruce. he and Bruce are weird and complicated and hold endless bounds of nuance. that's just How Bruce Is, and Dick is the "test run", in a sense. he knows Bruce is new to this whole sidekick/family thing and is giving Bruce grace for being rough around the edges. but when Bruce starts looking at Jason or Tim or Cass that way, that's when Dick starts to notice. it's never enough of a suspicion he feels justified to bring it up, but the thought lingers. he's hyperaware and grows less and less comfortable with leaving them alone with Bruce. it's a weird game of chicken, Dick and Bruce staring each other down when Bruce's touch lingers too long. each waiting for the other to say something first. if Bruce ever broke and actually acted on his feelings, Dick would be eaten alive by the guilt of knowing something was up, but never saying something until it was too late.

obviously, Cass would know. there's no world where Cass *doesn't* know, the nature of who and what she is would immediately clock it. but the issue is, Cass doesn't have a good framework of what family looks like. she doesn't really understand familial vs romantic love bc she has no firsthand experience of what a parent's love should even look like. so she never calls it out. she just watches. i'm a fan of Cass believing this is normal and believing she too can express and act on attraction that's vaguely incestuous. maybe it's with Babs, maybe it's with Dick or Tim or Bruce himself. but she recognizes this as Normal and Accepted within the Batfamily, so it severely fucks up her understanding of familial love and i just. man it's my favorite thing about Cass in Batcest honestly, is how you can play with her lack of experience with love, boundaries, and sexuality.

Tim is the fun one for me. because my favorite flavor of BruTim is when Tim knows, as he agrees to be Robin, that there's a non-zero chance that Bruce is going to be Weird and agrees anyway because he's decided it's an acceptable risk. so Tim knows from the get-go because he's expecting it. if Bruce acts on his attraction, i think it's either with Tim or Cass first, because they're the most likely to confront him about it in a way that isn't entirely negative. Tim has accepted it's a possibility and Cass just seeks being loved and touched so. it leads to the first time someone's ever confronted Bruce about it. and the thing is, Bruce really doesn't like confrontation about his flaws. the first time Tim tries to imply he's okay with it, Bruce would lash out at the idea, tell Tim how inappropriate that is and benches Tim for a week. it'd probably take a united front from Cass and Tim to get Bruce to even *admit* to the attraction. still Bruce wouldn't allow it to happen and he brushes them off until finally, the dam breaks. it's fun if there's a cause like sex pollen, but i think it's *more* fun if it's just. a random fucking Tuesday and finally Bruce is at his limit. he has no real reason, there's nothing particularly different about that day's routine. he just sees Tim or Cass striping armor and sighs and gives in.

i don't think Steph, Jason, or Babs would notice until anything substantial happened. not because they're not wicked smart, but just because none of them were looking for it. Jason put Bruce on a pedestal when he was alive, and when he came back from the dead he wasn't close enough to be noticing Bruce's interpersonal dynamics outside of his narrow scope. Steph has no real framework for what healthy fatherhood looks like, so if Bruce's touches linger, if he stares too long, she just shrugs and assumes it's how it is. and Babs was just never quite close enough to Bruce to notice. if and when she notices, is when actual sexual things start to happen between Cass and Bruce. because Cass would see no reason to hide it. Babs would be pissed, but it'd be tricky to navigate. Cass would be an adult, even if she's only 18/19, so technically, she's old enough to be consenting. if nothing else, Bruce is a careful man. even when he breaks and gives in to his desires, he covers his tracks well. he makes sure he has enthusiastic consent and there's no legal recourse that could be taken. age of consent and all that. there's not much Babs can *do* other than try to tell Cass (and/or Tim) that this isn't normal or okay. not that it gets her anywhere, but god would she try.

by the time Duke comes along (if we venture out of the pre-Flashpoint era) i think it's a sort of. open secret, in the Batfamily. talked about in nothing but hushed whispers and knowing glances. at some point, they've all had sex with Bruce, caving all for different reasons. some more than others. Tim sees it as a duty, Cass sees it as a way of seeking comfort, Steph sees it as getting Bruce's approval for once, etc. it's never forced on them, but eventually, they all come to Bruce sooner or later. and that's the fun irony of it, i think. they try to convince the others not to, but would go to Bruce on their own well. because complicated reasons they can't put into words. sometimes, Bruce is just a messy man who doesn't realize how prized his Attention to for the rest of the Batfamily. that weird duality of not liking him, but also wanting desperately for him to like you. all of them have dealt with it, at some point. so for Duke, it takes a while for him to understand this... whole dynamic. it's Cass who tries to explain it to him, and he's a little horrified, a lot confused. especially when Bruce starts staring at him a little too long as well. i think he'd only want to watch first but well. they all cave eventually.

also fun bonus if we venture into the Dark Knight Returns universe for my bestest girl Carrie Kelley: there's such a like, "i'm fucking around and i'm finding out" vibe to Carrie. like Tim, she's very proactive in just. deciding she's going to be Robin and she's ready for whatever that entails. (IMO canon Carrie is closer to fanon Tim than canon Tim is but *that* deserves its own post-) like she takes one look at the old man that is Batman and goes yup. he's never fucking getting rid of me now. if Bruce started having weird feelings about her, i think she'd have *fun* with it. she's decided she's in it for the long haul and for whatever being Robin means so. she's almost teasing about it, seeing how hard she can push before Bruce snaps. since it's an older, gruffer Bruce, i think he'd express open annoyance at it first, almost a sort of banter about how Carrie behave. but of course he caves and Carrie leans into it, because there's a fun in having all of Bruce's attention to herself. in the main timeline, Bruce is pretty split with so many Robins and Batgirls, but during their era, it's *just* her and him and she's very proud she's got him all to herself.

[hana-bobo-finch]

erm…..posting about an OC via a rushed shitpost was not on my 2025 bingo card!! 😂😂😂😂😂😂get it??? 😂😂😂because his name is bingo??(GETS SHOT)

these are all things he has done or has attempted to do so consider this the full intro post for that freak for now. he’s still too undercooked to fully introduce but damn I love him

[seventh-district]

7am, eating cold leftover teriyaki stir-fry for breakfast and crying over blorbos

[uiruu]

I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you’re very young and aren’t deliberating spreading misinformation about how the US branches of government work. The president does not have ANY say in Supreme Court decisions. The president belongs to the executive branch of government. The Supreme Court belongs to the judicial branch. The only influence the executive branch has on the Supreme Court is if/when the president gets the opportunity to appoint a new justice, which only occurs when a current justice dies or steps down. Those appointments from the president’s office need Senate approval before a justice can be confirmed to the court.

The US currently has a conservative majority on the court: there are nine justices total with six being conservative — three of them were appointed by Trump due to vacancies that occurred during his administration* (technically one vacancy occurred under Obama, but the conservative-majority Senate at that time blocked his nominees until he left office, meaning Trump was in a position to fill that vacancy. Hm, almost as though voting does in fact matter because of how our branches of government are designed, and Democratic presidents alone can’t achieve unilateral change!).

I understand the frustration with the state of the country right now, but acting like Biden is a king with unprecedented power over the judicial and legislative branches is dangerously out of touch with the reality of how this country works. Although ironically, Trump and his allies plan to redistribute power into the executive branch when he takes office by minimizing the power of the legislative and judicial branches (see Project 2025). If Project 2025 comes to fruition, the executive branch WOULD have king-like power, which is what The US Constitution was written to avoid. I recommend learning about the limits and parameters of presidential power before you “voting is useless” your way into handing absolute power to Trump.

im not gonna respond to very much of this, except to say that i'm almost certainly older than you, and also it's funny for you to be like "Biden isnt a king and doesnt have absolute power, there's nothing he can do about the supreme court. but Trump will have absolute power". which one is it? is the president important or not? also, you people all say that the democrats will be better than the republicans. where's the proof of that? what have they done for anyone? commit genocide?

[tsukasalover]

(credits to ssruis)

This song is the only thing keeping me going I do not play about mr showtime 😞 nothing ruined me (made my life better) the way this song did

(Sendn. Me songs to do this with in my ask box… sniffle…)

[honeysunchild]

People fucking suck

Why can't people just be fucking nice or polite

What's so fucking difficult about not treating others like shit