#why does it cost so much to not want to feel like dying

[agenttexsflippedshit]

What if I killed god with my bare hands

[cat-dragron]

Going from Ancillary Sword into August Kitko and the Mechs from Space is such like... whiplash to my brain. Ancillary Sword was challenging to read in a way I wasn't expecting but man was it rich as hell, the depth of the worlds and characters in that book are insane. Meanwhile reading AKatMfS is like... the premise is so cool and seems right up my alley but something about the writing is just not gelling with me for whatever reason. I want to get through this book so badly because I am interested but like... part of me is just wondering is this it?? Is this all there is to it?

[dontbesoweirdkira]

What if batsib also dies and comes back? Would that get rid of their status as the comfort person and stability in Jason's life?

This anon is referencing this post!

Hmm. This is such an interesting question! Thank you for asking.

I think it really depends on how you view Jason in my writing. I'll give you a few possible answers and you can do it as you will. To be honest my headcanons are up for interpretation. There's no right or wrong answer in fiction. I want you all to be pleased.

If you want my personal answer then it's the second one. Happy imagining.

If you took it as that he only clings to Batsis because of their purity.

Well i think the answer would be yes. But this would also mean he's not really obsessed with you but what you have. Your innocence and optimism is something he can hyper focus on. It overrides the demons and memories in his mind, when he's in his worse state, he can fade back into the thoughts of you and feel better. You give him hope that maybe the world isn't as shitty as his mind makes it out to be.

If you can stay unscathed for so long then what happened to him was just an anomaly. You are the perfect example of how he wishes he was. Blissful and un-traumatized, he lives vicariously through you.

You dying completely shatters his mind. He allows all of the bad to overtake him, there's no hope for a better life. It's clear the world doesn't want good to exist so why try to fight his demons anymore? They already took you which was the last sweet thing left.

When you come back, you're so different. He can't bring himself to even look at you. It destroys him so much. You're a husk of your former self, you're too much like him now. He hates who he is and thus can't love you the same way as before. Even the pure vanilla scent on you has a hint of death mixed into it. He doesn't like it.

he keeps his distance as far away from you as possible and is rather hostile when you try to interact with him. He doesn't truly mean it but it's all too much.

If you took it as he clings to you purely out of love and your purity is just a bonus.

He could never even think to stop loving his sibling. If anything it brings him closer to you. Your death tore him to shreds...yet you even in the midst he still held onto parts of you he had left.

Your memory..your scent still lingers just enough to carry Jason through the months of your death. He remembered the promises he made to you about becoming better, becoming just like Dick. He still wants to carry that through so he can be someone you are proud of. It keeps him from slipping back into the depths of his mind again. Maybe he even leans on the support of his siblings as well. He doesn't completely shut everyone out.

When you come back, he might be slightly standoff-ish. He's confused and conflicted. He's happy to see his siblings once again but at what cost? He knows what going through the pit is like and what it does to your mind. It looms over you and tries to rip your mind apart. You see and hear things that aren't really there...or maybe it is but only to the un-dead. He's hurting for you. He never wanted someone as kind as you to suffer like this. He knows the pain will never stop.

After his initial aversion, he's even more protective of you. Sure you may not want it but you need it. You won't be getting through this alone, you may be a shell of yourself but soon you'll be back to normal. Just like him you can turn it around.

It's nice to have someone in the family who can directly relate to him. It's like you both are in your own little world together. The other siblings can't have access to you the same way he does. He loves it. He finally has his sibling all to himself and there's no more competition. The others are the strange ones to you now...not him! To Jason, you're still as perfect as before.

[toxycodone]

i want swansea to finger me. i ❤️ fat men

ship. swansea x reader

content. fingering, reader is gender neutral but they do kinda ride his face

Jesus Christ.

Swansea’s had enough of this. Pony Express in general has always been on his ass, making him scoff and roll his eyes at every idiotic new rule or exception they make with hauls. But this one really takes the cake.

Having his fellow crewmate spread eagle on his work bench is fucking ridiculous.

Why do they keep hiring young people? He supposes it’s because they’re cheap, and this company’s the most penny pinching business in the game. But the costs surely outweigh the benefits.

They’re stupid, inexperienced. They can’t keep it their pants, and the effects of the haul start doing numbers on their psyche much quicker that the others. The tension between you two was palpable. Swansea could see the way you eye fucking him clear as day despite all his attempts to keep you focused on work at hand.

Fuck it. He huffs. He’ll take care of this himself. He’s not dying to some stupid mistake you make because you’re two busy imagining getting your guts rearranged to actually focus.

“Can’t believe this shit…”

Swansea hisses. His thick fingers trail down the expanse of your thigh, causing you to shudder.

Fuck, you’re sensitive, huh? He’d feel bad if he wasn’t so preoccupied with annoyance. But he can’t fully blame you. Swansea’s been there before. The hormones pumping through your body are begging you to fuck. Going without a good orgasm is torture to someone your age.

Good thing he’s here. A rugged, experienced individual like him. Yeah. Making a young thing like you fall apart on his fingers will be a piece of cake. You probably don’t know any better, anyways. Years of experience have polished him into quite the lover.

The thick callouses on his fingers force your thighs open, spreading your sex out in clear view. Swansea tsks, trying to fight back the heat that flares through his body at the sight.

“Not only do I gotta watch over you. Show you the ropes, keep you from killing yourself every ten damn seconds—but I gotta get you off too? The fuck does Pony Express think I am, some kind of prostitute?”

The least they could do is give him a raise. Fucking cheapskates. They probably think putting some young, hot piece of ass glued to his hip is a favor for him. Fuck it, they should’ve just been transparent and invested in a barracks bunny. It would save him the constant headache of having to train you.

“You better not take this for granted, kid. Once you’re spent, I’m expectin’ you to work twice as hard next shift.”

It’s a serious declaration. You better haul ass once he’s done this for you. Swansea’s large hand hovers right near where you want him. You feverishly nod in agreement. Whatever it takes to get those digits inside you as soon as possible.

“Good. Lay back and enjoy this, ‘cause I ain’t doin’ it often.”

He would, though. If you asked again. Swansea’s hand moves down the expanse of your thigh, settling over your sex. He trails his thumb down your outer lips a few times, humming in acknowledgement at the wetness that coats your pubes and spreads from his movements.

“Already wet too? God, you’re easy. Or have you been waitin’ for a chance like this?”

His question is rhetorical, obviously, because the way his thumb starts to round your clit has you throwing your head back—blocking any answer that would’ve come out. Swansea knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s had his wife spread like this plenty of times, so it only takes a few movements and studying your facial expression before he finds what pressure and movements have you grinding back into his touch. He’s even sure to pay attention to the underside of clit, poking the sensitive head from its hood just enough to make you jump.

The attention makes you embarrassingly wet. Just from the older man stroking your sensitive bud, he’s already got your hips bucking and wanton moans leaving your lips. Is this how guys feel when they jerk off? Because the way Swansea’s got you coming apart with ease has you inching closer and closer with each passing second.

And when he stops, you whimper. It’s pathetic. But you’re too damn horny to give a shit at this point. Being stuck on the Tulpar has left you at the mercy of your own hand and imagination. Having someone else touch you for once is electrifying.

“Don’t bitch.” Swansea commands gruffly, adjusting himself in his work chair. You notice there's a gentle flush to his cheeks, but his eyes remain focused on your bottom half. His fingers stroke your slit again. The way he’s eyeing the slick that coats it is a little embarrassing—as if he’s assessing something. His middle finger pushes past your entrance, and at the sign of little resistance, the older man smirks. He adds his index finger in the midst of the third stroke, but keeps the pace slow.

Good Lord, his fingers are thick. Almost as thick as he is. They’re rough, thoroughly calloused from years of working with his hands. You can feel that texture on your inner walls as they split you open. Swansea’s thrusting them into you slowly still, but deliberate. Yes, he’s trying to get you closer and closer to that pending orgasm, but—

A choke moan escapes your lips when he finds it, that one spot inside you that makes your stomach drop.

“Right there, eh?” He’s smirking.

Those wide fingers curl around your g-spot, hitting it just right with each movement of his hand. He’s relentless, thumping against the area and speeding up his strokes. Your eyes roll back, vision blurred by stars as your orgasm comes tumbling towards you.

And you think that’s it, but the feeling of stubble against your thigh has you second guessing. Before you know it, Swansea’s lips seal around your slit. His other arm wraps around your thigh, fingers resting above your slit and pulling upwards to make the bud poke out at him for easier access. Your own hips involuntarily start to buck and grind against the older man’s face, smearing a mix of slick and saliva over his mouth and nose as you fuck yourself against it.

You cum quicker than you ever had in your life on his face. Never, ever have you been more thankful for Utility being so secluded from other parts of the ship. The sounds you make echo from the walls as you tense up and shudder. Vibrations from Swansea chuckling between your thighs make you whine as he continues to fuck you through your own release.

Your chest rises and falls with shaky pants as you fall limp onto the cold steel of the bench. With a hazy mind tingling body, you lie there, trying to recollect yourself after your superior just made you cum like that.

Swansea, ever so eager to stay on task, kicks back from the workbench, idly licking his fingers clean.

“Now you better pull yourself together, kid. We gotta job to do, y’hear?”

He tosses your clothes from the floor back at you. You take a few moments to gather yourself, before attempting to straighten things up. Swansea’s left the Utility room now—likely on the way to the bathroom to wash his own hands and start on his next task.

But on reflection, before you can tug your pants back on and get to work, you notice something off.

Your underwear’s gone.

(And somewhere, Swansea’s enjoying his new prize.)

[suiana]

I miss the time you used to make actual fics

(yandere! villain x gn! hero's sidekick reader) (idk what this is bruh i wanted to make it heroic but then it turned out like this)

when your world gets shrouded in ugliness and grime, a time will come when a person will light up the torch that guides you through even the darkest of nights.

if you had known that things would be like this, you would never have decided to take on the duty of being a hero. after all, with glory came the overwhelming loneliness of being the saviour.

you were never really the righteous type. always put yourself over others when a life-threatening situation would come. sure, you were a sidekick to the number one hero but you still had to save yourself first, right? well, no.

because for some reason when the gods decided to punish the earth, you had stepped forward to protect everyone when no one else would.

people called you a hero. with tears running down their faces as they thanked you for saving them and their families. the press recorded your selfless act and praised you as humanity's saviour.

you wished you could take your words back. to say that you didn't want to shoulder the punishment of humanity on your own. that if you could reverse time you'd hide in the crowd as god rained his fury down on everyone.

because at least then you wouldn't be alone.

the wind brushes past your face, hair flowing wildly in the cold of the dead night. the road to hell was a long one after all, and god's first punishment was to have you walk the cold path to your death.

it's okay, you told yourself. you're saving people, you tried to reassure yourself.

yet you had never expected the cost of other's freedom to come at such a great price. for here you were, trudging into the lonely night with the weight of the world on your shoulders.

humans are inherently selfish. the only reason they praised you was because they wanted to make themselves feel better for choosing to sacrifice one of their own instead of accepting the punishment. if they were truly grateful they'd have walked down this path with you together, wouldn't they?

but you were all alone. the city was alive as always, people going about with their daily lives. happy chatter and innocent smiles as they walked the streets. the city skyline was beautiful, buildings coloured in bright lights and advertisements. life was normal.

it's not fair.

it's not fair.

it's not fair.

why did you have to suffer when they could walk free of sin? they were the original sinners! why did you have to bear the weight of their actions all on your own?!

looking down at your shivering hands, you walk towards the edge of the building. how high up were you? 50 floors? 55? you couldn't remember. you didn't want to remember. because you knew that it'd be a long way down either way.

you didn't want to die yet. you still had so much to live for, still had so much you wanted to accomplish and do.

but everyone was counting on you to save the world.

so you took a trembling step forward, planning on embracing the cold embrace of death.

"ah... i'm falling."

your body felt weightless as you fell off the building, eyes shut as you tried to bite back the tears that threatened to slip past.

no, you couldn't cry. you had to be brave. that's what a hero does. be brave no matter what, right? even when you were dying?

"if only someone could save me, how nice it would be."

"what are you doing you stupid hero?!"

a shout snaps you out of your trance, his hands reaching out to grab you.

"you-!"

"do you seriously want to die?!"

his hold on your hand was tight, almost afraid as though you'd slip out of his grasp. you take in the way his normally cocky face was now full of fear, face scrunched up in a way that exposed all of his hidden vulnerabilities.

then you had realized he jumped off after you.

"you- you jumped off! now we're both going to die!"

you scream at him, eyes darting all over. no freaking way. you knew that the villain was always stupid but to jump after you after you were going to die? did he cook his brain in the air fryer today?!

"shit shit- no! you can't die too! please tell me this is a dream! only one of us needs to handle divine duty-"

"shut up! who said anything about dying?"

his sharp voice cuts through your thoughts as he wraps his arms around your body.

"i'm the villain, remember? how could i die just like that?"

time seems to slow as he brings both of you to a complete stop. attached to his back was a piece of dark matter rope, probably made with his ability so that it wouldn't break halfway. oh, so he had a backup plan.

you stammer, feeling your cheeks heat up as the man slowly brings you back up to the top of the building, his arms tight and secure all the way up. when he had ensured both of you were right back on solid ground, he exhaled sharply and shot you a glare.

"stupid hero. did you want to die that badly?"

he questions, flicking your forehead before scoffing.

"even your damn hero that you worked for didn't want to give up his life, why did you want to do it? don't you know that i like you?"

the villain's words are surprisingly soft despite the hint of anger in them. how cute, he was worried for you? and yes, you know that he likes you. how could you not? he literally shows it every time you meet up to fight with him.

making kissy faces at you, casually flirting while he tears apart a building, beating up random people who had the audacity to flirt with what he thought was his to court, inviting you out to dinner as he avoids an attack from the hero... well, you suppose it worked out in the end? he did save you from dying.

"look, all that god told us to do was to clean up the garbage. don't know why you decided taking on the sins of everyone was a smart idea."

he grumbles, running a hand through his hair before placing a hesitant hand on your waist to tug you closer. your breath hitches as he suddenly rests his head against your shoulder, his breath tickling your skin.

"we could clean it up, you know? i mean, what's stopping us? i know you don't really want to die after all."

wait a second, what was he suggesting? to become god's messengers

"after all... we're the strongest, aren't we?"

well, not really but you suppose so.

you stare at him, a conflicted expression on your face before you huff. you didn't really want to be a villain but... what other option was there? you sure as hell didn't want to die for the sake of people you've never met before. especially when some of them were literal criminals.

"how do we clean up the trash?"

the villain smirks at your words.

"great question, we'll kill them all!"

"no."

"okay, we beat them up and make them all repent. then we kill them!"

"no!"

shaking your head, you let out a sigh. damn it all. looks like you're no longer the saviour.

"hehe, don't look so down cutie. we're technically doing god's work."

you stare at him, eyes narrowing before you roll your eyes.

well, you suppose he's right in a sense... a smile creeps up your lips as you start chuckling softly.

"sure, we're god's messengers now then."

"that's right!"

he ruffles your hair with his other hand, a cocky smirk on his lips.

"so how do you want to start? shall we nuke them?"

"no!"

[ponderingmoonlight]

can you pleaseee make a sequel to the "jjk men hurting y/n" (gojo part) where their son wonders if they can marry y/n when they grow up. you know what i mean.

(also oh my goddddd that fic had me rolling in bed giggling and kicking my legs 😭😭😭😭)

Nothing better than that, thank you so much for your request and liking my work<3

Part l can be found here under Gojo's part

Gojo's and (y/n)'s son wanting to marry (y/n)

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,2k

Warnings: fluffness overload

Tags: @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @defnotriri @smarsd @sharycatx3 @kaiserkisser @sanicsmut

As usual, feel free to leave a comment or reblog <3

What happened on that fateful day of the night parade was hard to swallow for both you and Satoru. That unimaginable grief of the breakup when all he wanted to do was to save you. Suguru who wanted to not only kill you but Yuta for your abilities and died himself.

It was all too much to handle, a test for both of you.

“Why didn’t you just tell me? I told you I’m pregnant, that I’m expecting your child and you-….You looked at me with nothing but hatred in your eyes…”

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). Believe me, it killed me from the inside to be so cold to you when in reality, I wanted nothing more than holding you in my arms and tell everyone. But there was no other way. If I’d told you about Suguru’s plan, you would have insisted on coming to Tokyo. And if I didn’t and you’d find out yourself, you would have been absolutely mad and would have been there anyway. Please, all I wanted was to keep you safe. I had no other choice…”

For the first time in your relationship, you saw Satoru Gojo cry in front of you, his hands wrapped around your face. Oh, if you only knew how hard it was for him, how it broke his very own heart within these three cursed weeks.

But now you’re here, safe and sound.

“What happened to Suguru?”

Your innocent question pierced his heart like a knife. Satoru wanted to break down in front of you, too overwhelmed by everything that happened over the last weeks.

But he had to be strong. For you and his unborn baby.

“He didn’t make it.”

Your heart dropped, arms instinctively wrapped around your boyfriend’s trembling frame. Oh, your Satoru. All the things he had to endure over this time. Despite you had every reason to be mad at him you simply can’t. He did this for you, after all. And who knows at what cost.

“We’ll get through this together, okay? You, me and our baby.”

And after months of grieving and talking everything out, you did eventually. You did live through it all: the difficult pregnancy, you almost dying during birth, Satoru getting sealed at Shibuya, the loss of many good friends. It was never easy, you thought about giving up all too often.

But now you’re sitting at the kitchen table with your three year old beautiful son who owns the eyes of his gorgeous father and your hair color.

“Good morning my lovelies”, Satoru purrs against your ear before gently placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Stop that!” your son suddenly shouts, gazing at your husband and his very own father visibly upset.

Huh, what has gotten into him today? Normally he doesn’t mind much when Satoru shows you affection. You tilt your head to the side, Satoru nods towards you.

“What, are you jealous, young man?” Satoru asks challengingly, sitting down next to his son who crawls into his lap immediately.

“You can’t just kiss mama like that because I wanna marry her!” the little boy in front of you announces, determination sparkling in his blue orbs.

Satoru and you stare at each other bamboozled and before you can help yourself, a little giggle escapes your lips. Is this why he was acting so weird? Where does this thought come from?

“You wanna marry her?” Satoru repeats.

“I learned that you kiss at a wedding. So you can’t kiss mommy!”

“Oh, I understand. And how did you get the idea of marrying her?” Satoru continues the conversation.

Your heart feels like exploding in warmth, pure joy speeding through your veins. Seeing your sweet little angel sitting on his father’s lap while announcing that he’ll marry you makes tears sting in your eyes. After all the things you’ve been through, the fights, the injuries, the worries, is this really your life right now? Sitting at the breakfast table while having a delightful conversation with your family?

“I love my mama because she makes me brave.”

Satoru’s eyes dart towards you, so touched by the words of your little one that you can immediately see the glossy shine in them. It’s still like a dream to him, sitting here in peace with both of you by his side. This was definitely worth all the fights and losses he had to endure over the last years. This precious little moment of innocence and pure love.

“Y’know little man, just because you love someone you can’t automatically marry that person. That here is your ma, which means you can’t marry her. If someone gets to marry her that would be me”, Satoru clarifies with his oh so sweet voice.

You desperately try to hold back tears. The love you hold for your little family is more than you could ever explain, deeper than any ocean on this planet. Your son might not be aware of it know, but the fact that he’s sitting here so unbothered was never granted, that all of this will work out was never given.

But now it is. Now you’re sitting there all together. And your son just announced that he wants to marry you.

“But why can you marry her and I not?” he requests, lips forming that little pout that reminds you so much of his father.

“Because you already have her as your wonderful mama. Leave some for the rest”, Satoru replies.

Your son shrieks in his father’s loving arms as he begins to tickle him, laughter filling the room. If anyone would have told you 5 years ago that this will be your life, you would have laughed at him. You really thought this world has no joy for you left, that you and Satoru are cursed through being jujutsu sorcerers.

But that child in front of your very own eyes isn’t a curse. No, it is a true blessing just like Satoru himself. You can’t help but admire him for his strength, for his never ending optimism in this world that tried to tear him down multiple times. Always running back into your open arms, always looking out for you and your family. How do you even deserve him, the man in front of you who looks at your child lovingly?

“But why did you not marry her then?”

You tilt your head to the side, amused by the question of your little one.

“That’s a really good question, angel”, you comment sweetly.

Of course you know all too well that the last few years didn’t have any room for a wedding. Between so many deaths, getting sealed and constant fighting, there wasn’t enough time to arrange something like that. But still, you love to tease your boyfriend a little bit.

“I definitely will someday”, Satoru ensures, gaze set on you with a breathtaking smile.

“And I’ll be there too!” your son cries out in excitement.

“Of course you will, Suguru! Ain’t no wedding without my favorite man by my side!”

[cruel-hiraeth]

꒰ THE UNBEARABLE WEIGHT OF LOVE ꒱ RORONOA ZORO X READER

warnings ⟢ slight angst (though it gets resolved). hurt/comfort. mentions of death and dying. descriptions of blood and wounds. brief allusions to buddhism. reader is gn and described as “beautiful” once.

word count ⟢ 1086

notes ⟢ happy birthday to my most beloved! this fic is self-indulgent (i.e. full of my hcs about zoro’s childhood) and a labor of love. the three of swords design in the banner is from the rider-waite tarot deck. three of swords generally depicts a difficult, sorrowful experience.

So this is how it ends.

The midafternoon horizon is fathomless—a halycon ocean—the sun anchored in its depths. A cool breeze stirs, kissing his tawny flesh, rustling his hair, and chiming his earrings; whispering beachgrass casts sinuous shadows across his face, allowing his good eye to rest in partial shade. Nearby, the tide laps at the shoreline—tenderly, the caress of a lover. Foam glides across half-buried seashells and beached debris in a brief greeting before returning to the sea, heeding her call.

Where Zoro is, he can’t be certain (not an uncommon occurence, though he would never admit it). His robe was slashed off at some point, and fell to the ground in shorn tatters. He lies bare-backed in a slurry of sand and ichor, his swords beside him; weeping wounds litter his torso, the most gruesome of which stretches from his navel to his right side. While he had the wherewithal to cut his haramaki and tie it around his waist as a makeshift tourniquet, the fabric is sodden, metallic teardrops puddling in the sand.

Pain is a feeling he greets like an old friend. It’s comforting, almost, like a suffocating embrace. As a boy, he had to nurture that cold familiarity if he wanted to survive—be it fighting bigger kids for spare scraps at the orphanage, or taking lashes from a bokken at the dojo. Strength comes with a cost, as does physical and mental growth. Existence is suffering, and suffering is—in its purest form—pain. But the mind-numbing sting that currently radiates from his injuries is the last thing on his mind.

For the first time in years, Zoro is afraid. He shivers despite the scorching sunbeams, sucking in shallow mouthfuls of air, glistening beads of sweat sliding down his body toward the earth.

It isn’t the prospect of death that scares him; he has walked most of his life along the corpse-strewn path of demons, fighting against his fate as an asura. And he has peered into death’s grim visage before—too many times count. He even dived into hell and cleaved through its bowels to face Enma, emerging victorious as the king of souls departed.

Regret, however? Regret is a different beast.

It’s why he trembles now, covered in grime and gore, half-lucid. As dark thoughts slink to the forefront of his consciousness, he’s aware that dying here will mean failing. Not simply failing himself and his own dream of becoming the greatest swordsman, but also failing his captain and best friend, and failing to preserve Kuina’s legacy. Most gut-wrenching of all, he knows that dying here will mean failing you. There’s so much Zoro wants to do with you, so much he wants to say. He itches with regret, calloused digits twitching at his sides, desperate to claw his skin off.

Clarity torments him. Memories flit before his steel gaze, now wet—a tear-streaked blade. He sees you: the flicker of your eyes when you tell a story; the curve of your lips when you poke fun at him; the halo of your hair when you nap against his chest; the set of your jaw when you’re serious. More than anything else, he longs to tell you how he feels.

I love you.

Three simple words that he always struggled to string together. Perfect moment after perfect moment was presented to him on a gilt platter: inside the crow’s nest at dawn, or beneath the lush boughs in the tangerine orchard—even perched atop the Sunny’s bow to watch the sunset. He squandered each of these opportunities because he (foolishly) assumed there would be more in the future.

I love you.

If only he could muster the strength to breathe out the sweetness of your name once more—to taste each smooth, honeyed syllable on his lips, to feel it silken on his palate. Maybe then he could forgive himself. But instead, it dies on his tongue as his vision blots and blurs. Eventually, his world goes black.

I love you.

Zoro awakes to the muffled creaking of a hull.

His head pounds, his mouth is bone-dry, and his limbs are leaden and stiff; he feels like death, and suspects that he looks like it, too. Surgical gauze tightly wraps his frame, stifled wounds screaming in agony. When he glances up and sees framed pictures of the crew above his cot, he recognizes where he is: the Sunny’s infirmary. In his periphery, you’re sitting at Chopper’s desk with a book in your lap. He tries (and, to his frustration, fails) to shift into a seated position. As soon as you notice the movement—head snapping up in surprise—you rush to his bedside.

He waits for you to reprimand him for being so reckless while away from the rest of the crew. But you don’t—not yet, anyway. (Not until he’s mostly healed. And for that, he wonders if you may be an angel.) Instead, you kneel on the wooden floorboards to level with him. Your fingertips tentatively brush against his cheekbone, as though you’re testing to ensure that he’s real. Content with what you find, you cup his chin, allowing him to lean into the soft warmth of your touch, catlike.

“I was worried about you. Well, so was everyone else. But I’ll only speak for myself,” you murmur.

His voice is gravel, cragged from disuse. “Sorry.”

After a few beats of silence, he clears his throat. “Is Chopper on break?”

You nod. “I’ve picked up the night shift so he can sleep.”

“How long was I out for?”

“Roughly two days.”

“Fuck.”

That draws a chuckle from you.

Zoro swallows. “Listen, I—”

Your thumb grazes his chapped lips, forcing him to pause. “Save your energy, Zo. You don’t have to defend yourself; you’re safe with me. I promise.”

Tired but patient, your gaze breaks him, only to piece him back together. His heart aches.

He inhales deeply. Then—in a flood of emotion he can’t stem—the words flow out: “Y’know I’m not good with feelings…or words. But, uh…” A broad palm wraps around your wrist, your skin hot against his. Ignoring the heat creeping up into his cheeks, he sighs, “I love you.”

Before he can second guess his confession, your lips bloom and burst into a radiant smile, setting your features alight. He doesn’t think you have ever looked more beautiful.

“I know,” you admit airily. Leaning in, you dot a kiss to his scarred eyelid. “I love you, too.”

[gojossocks]

New Romantics

Gojo x reader 𐙚 Genre: fluff, comedy, hurt/comfort 𐙚 Summary: You are the bane of Gojo's existence, at least that's what he tells himself. You're just full of surprises and he can't help but be fully enamored by you. 𐙚 wc: 8.5k 𐙚 content: kinda enemies to kinda lovers, a bunch of high schoolers, gojo is soo out of touch with his feelings, it's in his pov, gojo is sooo down bad, PINING, badass reader, reader is in a clan too! reader smokes ! kinda screams im not like other girls in a less toxic way, jealous! gojo, heavy make out, very self-indulgent HAHA can be read as a standalone. 𐙚 a/n: my first ever series ! it's kinda long but i swear it's fun! :D

series masterlist | prologue

Arrogant. Insufferable. Patronizing. Apathetic. 

The list goes on. 

Granted, Gojo is nowhere near close to you. You were barely friends.

If there is one person in Jujutsu High that he likes the least, it would be you. It’s not like he resents you, it’s just that you represent  everything he hated from being in a clan just like him.

From the way you strut your very expensive loafers to the way you shop to your heart’s content after every mission since your first year. Not to mention that you’re the all-perfect princess that your clan wants you to be. 

“Gojo, please pass me the p-“

“No can do, shorty.”  He chirps, giving you a shit-eating grin. 

You glared at him before motioning Shoko to hand you the pen instead. “Gojo, you know you kinda look like someone I like.”  You didn’t let him finish, crossing your arms before giving him a devilish smirk. “That cute little rat from Shrek.” 

Gojo’s eyes widened at your insult but Suguru and Shoko were already snickering at him. He despises the idea that everyone seems to adore you, except him of course.

In the eyes of the higher ups and your family, you were the sweetest girl ever. Somehow, you’re always growing horns around him. 

Everyone thinks that Gojo’s only messing with you whenever the two of you banter. Hell, there are some students gossiping that he has a crush on you (which he definitely doesn’t) But only Geto and Shoko know how much he actually dislikes you.

You seem so obedient with all your clans orders, following everything that’s asked of you, carrying the submissiveness and elegance a Y/L/N is supposed to have. And if there’s anything Gojo hated the most, it’s tradition. It’s why he’s in Jujutsu High in the first place, he wanted to change the system badly— and seeing you become the embodiment of the tradition he badly wants to change pisses him off. 

Each time the higher ups get mad at him for not being in his ‘best behavior’, your name is constantly echoed around the meeting room. ‘You should be more like Y/L/N’ ‘Bring honor to your clan like how Y/L/N does.’ 

The only act of rebellion that you do is that your hair is dyed in a way that would make the higher ups frown. Your hair is recently dyed bright orange. He finds himself scoffing at the idea that you only get scolded because of a damn hair color. Gojo’s also confused with how cunning and sassy you are when there aren’t any prying eyes. Maybe you’re just doing that to seem cool. 

Well, he just has to avoid you at all costs so you would stop annoying him and pestering his thoughts. 

Unfortunately for him, Yaga has different plans. 

“Satoru. Y/N.” Yaga announces when he was pairing up students for a mission but he doesn’t even get to finish because Gojo emits a loud dramatic groan from across the room. 

“Why?” He whined, tilting his head up to create a dramatic effect. “It’s always been Suguru and I.” 

“Satoru, you and Suguru need to be paired up with someone who's an expert in reversed curse technique. It’s your fault you haven’t learned it yet.”  

Gojo crossed his arms and pouted. “Y/N can kiss my ass, teacher.” 

“No thanks. I’m sure you don’t wash yours. I could smell you from afar, stinky.” Everyone else groaned as the two of you started another banter, forcing the meeting to be 5 minutes longer than usual— particularly because no one dares to cut off your argument (Yaga is too amused because of how much you put Gojo in his place.) 

-.-

The mission didn’t go well. It was the first time you and Gojo worked together, and judging by your huge egos, your banter caused the both of you to get injured– you more so than Gojo. He was too reckless today, attempting to get a reaction out of you, which is why he got caught off guard when a 1st grade curse attacked him.

You pushed him out of the way, causing the curse to land a hit on your shoulder and right arm. Gojo stood still in his place in shock and your right arm was already injured when he snapped out of  his trance. He obliterated the curse easily but the damage has been done. 

You’re just lucky it was a minor injury but the fact that you did that for him, considering how you two were at each other’s necks for the longest time confuses him. It disoriented him until the both of you arrived at Jujutsu High. 

When he got patched up, he stood up to apologize but you were nowhere to be found. He assumes you’ve already healed yourself due to your reverse curse technique ability but he can’t help the nagging feeling in his mind. 

You were quiet today— well, ever since this afternoon. And no he’s not keeping track, he’s just not used to not hearing your snarky remarks and sarcastic comebacks at his attempts to annoy the shit out of you.

You’re just ignoring him, giving short insults in response to his own for the most part of your mission until you shielded him from that curse. 

His guilt weighs on him heavily as he strolls around the school, waiting for Shoko and Geto. but really it’s just to see you. Gojo had noticed that you’re always gone the moment after your mission’s debriefing, sometimes even when you’re injured. 

At last, he saw you just a few blocks away from Jujutsu High, towards the new 7/11 store that opened a few months ago. Gojo tilts his head to the side and furrows his eyebrows before deciding to follow you as discreetly as he could.

He stood near a house behind the convenience store where he could be hidden by a large plant beside it. He watched you grab a few things off the shelves and talk with the cashier, who happily greets you at the counter. You must’ve been here frequently. 

1 can of coke. A box of cigarettes. Coffee. 

Gojo never took you as the type who would visit a convenience store, as shocking as that sounds. He knows you’re rich. Filthy rich. You’ve always been pampered just like him, everything down at your feet because you’re the most powerful sorcerer in your clan. 

Finally, you got out of the store. Gojo’s eyes widened like saucers when you went straight to his hiding spot. 

“You know,” You called out, putting a hand on your hip.  “It surprises me how much of an idiot you are despite being a notorious smartass. Your hair sticks out of the leaves because you’re so fucking tall, Gojo.” 

“Heh.” He rubs his nape sheepishly, offering you a shy grin. “Didn’t think you’d see me.”  

“Really?” You deadpan before walking away from him, back to Jujutsu High. He jogs up to your side. “Why are you hiding anyway? Spying on your rival or something?” 

“Maybe.” He says lightly. It’s the first time any of you are talking normally to each other without malice. “Where are you going?” 

“Somewhere.” 

“Can I come?” He insisted, voice filled with excitement, leaving no hint that he’s gonna stop following you.  A smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

He looks like a puppy, following you around. It’s an amusing sight, even to  you. 

“No.”  You still kept walking, paying no mind as Gojo continued to follow you.

He feels an unusual giddiness at the thought that you hadn’t outright pushed him away because if you really wanted to, you would have told him to leave. 

You lead him to the abandoned fence with the sign ‘DO NOT ENTER’ in the restricted building of the school that had remained under construction for years. It was the tallest building in Jujutsu High. You wordlessly went up to the concealed stairs at the obscured side of the building and onto the rooftop. 

You sat at the edge of the building, your feet dangling off the edge. Gojo cautiously followed your actions, opting to sit next to you. He observes you as you unravel bit by bit and it’s the first time he’s seen you this relaxed and vulnerable—something that you granted him the privilege to see.

Rummaging through your paper bag, you retrieved a can of his favorite drink, Coca-Cola. As you handed it to him, a subtle surprise flashed across his face before he muttered a sincere ‘thanks. 

You then opened your box of Marlboro red and lit up a cigarette, putting it in between your lips before taking a drag. Gojo observes you silently, his mouth agape.  It was a revelation, discovering facets of you that he never anticipated. The act of you casually smoking, the ember casting a faint glow on your features, added another layer to the enigma that you are. 

Gojo stays silent for a few  more minutes or so until you notice his confusion, mainly because his eyebrows are almost meeting and he’s staring intently into the abyss. 

“Are you broken or something? You usually never stop yapping.” You joked, bumping your shoulder to his. 

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Gojo says dumbfoundedly. 

You chuckled but his question was left unanswered. He forgets about it completely because his brain short circuits when you move closer to him, taking off his sunglasses and perching it atop his head. His radiant baby blue eyes are out staring at you intently.

You give him a soft smile and point at the view in front of you. “I love going here after missions, sunset’s beautiful here.” 

“you’re being nice to me. Why?” 

Again. No answer. You just hummed in amusement and no words were spoken afterwards. 

The sun begins to descend, casting a warm, golden glow over the view from below. The city sprawls out beneath the both of you and the skyline extends into the horizon, bleeding in hues of pink and orange. Both of you sit in silence and when Gojo turns to look at you, he feels his heart beat quickening every passing second.

You look so breathtaking as the remaining sunlight kisses your skin, creating a halo effect around you. He suddenly doesn’t know why his palms feel so sweaty and he can’t manage to land a punchline to make you roll your eyes playfully at him. 

“I’m sorry I got distracted. Thank you for saving me today. I didn’t know you’d be more…” He trails off and you cut him off with a laugh so pretty enough that his head whipped to turn to you. 

“Kind? Human? You think I’m just like my clan huh?” You giggled and it shocked him how light you’re taking the situation.

You must’ve gotten used to it.

Just like him.

You stayed silent for a while before speaking in a serious tone. “Just because I don’t defy my clan’s ideals freely as you do doesn’t mean I’m not against it. When you’re a woman, you have to play nice, you know? I don’t have much of a choice unlike you. I know you don’t like me but I shielded you because you’re my friend.”

It was a wonder for Gojo that he’s the only one you’re not on good terms with out of everyone in Jujutsu High. Hell, he even overheard Yaga asking you to call back those Kyoto Students. It’s a big deal because those pesky Kyoto Students are usually their rivals but for some reason they’re always looking for you.

Then comes the Tokyo students, whom he never sees not greeting you or asking to hang out with you. Come to think of it, their expressions are always brightening up whenever you’re around and he thought that maybe they’re not that welcoming to him because he’s loud. But it’s you. It’s all you. 

From the way you listen intently to your friends, and your saccharine voice asking them about their day or whatever that piques their interest. You care, a lot. You even saved him from that grade 1 curse, resulting in a painful wound on your shoulder. Granted, you had the ability to heal yourself but who was he even in your life? and yet you took the fall for him. 

Gojo always hated that everyone seemed to look at him as that ‘six-eyed kid from the Gojo clan’. He hated the rumors about him just because of your last name— something that he has done to you since the first time you stepped foot into the school. 

He swallows his guilt and sets his pride aside. He wanted nothing more than to make it up to you.  “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ve read you wrong. I thought you were just like the rest of them.”  

“It’s alright.” You say nonchalantly as possible but the voice crack at the end gives you away. Gojo chooses to ignore that. This probably means a lot to you as much as it did to him. “I mean I get it, I actually admire your passion for changing the way our clans lead the Jujutsu World. I think you have the guts for standing up to them just like that.”

“You really think so?’ He scoots closer and gives you a small smile, his heartbeat quickening faster as he feels your warmth— your thighs almost touching. 

“Yeah.” You grinned back, leaning your wait to his side before taking a sip from your coffee. 

“So you think I’m pretty?” He looks at you and bats his eyelashes comedically.

You snorted in response and slapped his arm lightly.  “I’ll throw you off this building.” 

Gojo forgot the passage of time in those 4 hours at that rooftop. The sun had already set and the moon was gleaming, already dark out. He likes talking to you but he enjoys it more when you’re the one doing the talking. 

You talked about your school life, hobbies, even your life with your clan– anything that comes to mind. Talking to you is as easy as breathing. You’re just full of wisdom, kindness, and wit.

Gojo found out today that he actually likes making you laugh, something about it makes his stomach feel funny. He also found out your preferences in coffee, food, and even music. 

“Don’t you dare tell that spot to anyone, Gojo.” You took one of the sweets in his hands and popped it in your mouth before giving him a teasing grin.

You’re now walking side by side on the way to the dormitory. He insisted on walking you to your dorm even if his dorm is from the other side of the building. 

A chuckle escaped his lips as he matched your stride. “Yes, Ma’am.”  He replied with a teasing voice, earning a hum of approval from you. You finally stopped in front of your door. 

“Thank you Goj-” 

“Satoru.” He cut you off,  his voice suddenly softening. As you tilted your head inquisitively, he found himself breaking into another warm smile.  His cheeks ached from smiling too much this evening. “You can call me Satoru instead.” 

“I like saying Gojo, especially when I yell your name when I’m mad at you.” 

“Are you mad at me right now?” He wiggles his eyebrows, earning a playful roll of your eyes in response. 

“No.” 

His demeanor shifted then, almost like he’s surrendering his vulnerability to you. “Then call me Satoru.” You could almost hear the plea in his voice. 

You sigh in mock defeat, your lips curved into a smile as you relented to his request. “Okay, Satoru.”

-.-

“You’re barely hanging out with me anymore, Satoru. Have you found my replacement already?” Suguru says, smirking as he watches his best friend’s eyes widened— a blush adorning Satoru's cheeks.

Satoru fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, causing Suguru to smirk at him. This behavior definitely did not go unnoticed by his best friend. Rarely did Satoru ever get nervous and Suguru was all for it. 

“I was just busy, Suguru. You missed me that much? I didn’t know I am participating in a homosexual relationship with you—”  He retorted, attempting to deflect Suguru. 

But Suguru wasn’t one to let him off the hook easily. “Busy hogging Y/N?” 

Satoru scoffed, giving him a look of disbelief. “Pffft. Nah. Of course not. We’re friends!” He insisted, though the way his gaze momentarily flickered away betrayed a hint of something more.  

It has been nearly 6 months since that evening on the rooftop. Satoru and you have been attached to the hip ever since— or to phrase it better, Satoru has been attached to you ever since. Somehow, you’re a lot more similar than he thinks and because of that, you just know each other a lot deeper.

He also finds himself doing things out of pure interest like walking with you to the 7/11 store after mission just to talk to you til dusk on that rooftop, completely forgetting about his friend group’s game nights. Other times, he reaches for your wrist to encourage you to mingle with other people. He even accompanies you to your monthly shopping sprees in the city or in Shinjuku or Shibuya. He found out you love traveling and going to other places— it clears your mind, you had said. His closet is now full of clothes you helped him pick out, almost half of them you bought for him randomly. 

It’s normal for friends to do that, right? 

Seated side by side, Satoru and Suguru observed how you and Shoko practiced your reverse cursed technique. Satoru’s just munching on the sweets you bought for him while his best friend is clearly enjoying the view of how dumbstruck he is by you. 

“Satoru,” he began. “You’re always following her around, it’s like you’re glued to each other already and you even fell asleep together during movie nights more than 3 times already. The only time you’re not with her is when you’re on missions with me or lunch. Are you already secretly dating?” 

“Yeah, we’re not!” Satoru says swiftly and defensively, causing Suguru to raise an eyebrow at him. “Why are you keeping count anyway?” 

 “Sure, just friends.” Suguru insisted, attempting to downplay the whole situation but Satoru is already growing agitated with the way he’s being teased.  Suguru gave him a devilish smirk.  “What if she dates another guy?” 

Satoru shuts up for a minute before muttering a quiet  “… She won’t.” 

“You don’t sound sure. She eventually will.” Suguru gave him an all-knowing smile and that’s when he knew that Suguru was being serious. 

“Huh?”  Satoru furrowed his eyebrows, casting an accusing look at his best friend.  “How are you so sure?” 

“Shoko said she’s going on dates.” 

Oh. 

So that’s why he’s been seeing you less, and you seem so distracted whenever you guys would hang out. Satoru thought that you were just busy but he didn’t think you’d actually go on dates with anyone. I mean, you’re still young right? Besides, who would be deserving of you?

Satoru didn’t notice that he was staring daggers into Shoko as you hugged her tightly. His expression darkened, jealousy flashing in his eyes before softening as he heard you laugh. 

Pretty. 

You look so pretty. 

Since when did he find you incredibly pretty?

Sure, you were just friends but he doesn’t know why he has this urge to be with you all the time, he even wants to hug you like how you hug Shoko and Utahime. It’s just unfair that you only lean to him or give him a fist bump or when you fall asleep with your head on his shoulder.

He longs to hold you close, to see you every morning, and to be the person that makes you laugh all the time.  

And when you noticed him staring you beamed at him and waved. 

Oh, he definitely has a crush on his friend. 

He didn’t know how much time passed but soon enough his day wouldn’t be completed without seeing you. He actually looks forward now to the meeting with different plans, particularly because you were there with him. And he basically lives now in your dorm room, candy wrappers everywhere and an array of his glasses sit beside your bedside table.

You talk about anything, even the random thoughts that come to his mind. You managed to know him better than Suguru knows him, which is surprising by the way. 

But during the past week, he surprisingly didn’t see you— not even at the rooftop that you both had grown to hang out together. Suguru told him that he acts like he has a ‘stick up his ass’ but he was just worried about you. Have you grown tired of him? It all made him fidget like crazy. 

Satoru caught a glimpse of your bright blue hair after your mission with Suguru. It was the kind of blue that matches his eyes. But he didn’t pay attention to it that much because of your sullen look.

He tried looking for you at the convenience store or your dorm but you were already gone so his last bet is at the rooftop, and there you are.

Your back is facing him with your feet dangling off the edge, you seem to be in your own world judging by the loud music he’s hearing. There are two packs of cigarettes by your side and a can of your favorite coffee. The sun is almost setting again and you’re just staring ahead while you hum along to the song you're listening to. The view seems so… sad. He felt something tug at his heart strings. 

“You know you should quit smoking. if you keep it, you’ll never see me old handsome.”  He tried to joke off before climbing the edge to sit next to you. He took off his glasses before wincing at the view, it was too bright so he decided to put it on again. 

You giggled in response,  he can tell that you saw right through him when you had a soft look in your face.  The both of you hadn’t quite reached the stage where you’re entirely comfortable with opening up to one another.

So he tried to lighten up the mood once more, “It actually diminishes your ability as a sorcerer.” 

“Says who?” 

“Says yoda” He responded rhetorically before giving you a lopsided grin.  

You nodded before taking out your lighter to light up your cigarette.   “I only smoke when I’m stressed.” You confessed.

“Oh?” Satoru asks 

“Yeah” You smiled at him, taking a drag from your cigarette, sighing when the nicotine hit your system. 

“Then we’ll do something else, yeah?” He grinned at you mischievously before pointing his index. “Wait.” 

With a quick rummage through his pockets, he brought out a handful of brightly colored lollipops, their wrappers crinkling softly in his hand. 

“What do you have in mind?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him. 

Satoru extended his hand, offering you a lollipop with a playful wink. “Something sweeter?” 

He gives you a toothy grin—his eyes sparkling when you take it, shaking your head at his enthusiasm.

“This is ridiculous,” You laughed, amused by his antics as you unwrapped the sweet treat and popped it into your mouth. 

“It works, right?” Satoru asked eagerly. 

He’s been searching for alternative ways for nicotine but he couldn’t find any gum in the 7/11 store. Lollipops are his last choice. 

“I don’t know. Isn’t it gum that lessens the nic addiction?”  You countered, bumping your shoulder against his. 

“Lollipops are an alternative,” He says defensively, though a hint of concern crept up to his face.  “Are you okay?”  

“Yeah, uhm. It just gets tiring sometimes, you know?” You responded, bitterness lacing your voice. “ All the pressure. Sometimes I feel like I’m not treated humanely at one point.” 

“Hey. I’ll help you okay?” He placed a hand on your shoulder before offering you a soft smile. “When you’re with me, you don’t have to please those old geezers.” 

“I appreciate it, Satoru.” You smiled back at him and he found himself melting in your gaze. The sun be damned, he could live alone in your presence.

You decided to leave when it’s already half past eight. Once he helped you to his feet you looked at him shyly, and if it’s a bit lighter out he would see a blush creeping up to your face. The walk back to your dorm is silent again, your hands just occasionally brush and Satoru wondered if you think about holding his hand too. 

So when you let him in your dorm like you usually do. Satoru hesitated for a moment before he mustered up the courage and asked, “Is it okay if I hug you?” 

He noticed you freeze and he feared that he might have overstepped, but before he could retract his words, you’re already nodding and he instinctively wrapped his arms around you. Satoru hears you sigh in the hug and he feels like he’s floating when you tug him closer.

Satoru prayed silently that you couldn’t hear the loud thumping of his heart because he finally has you in his arms and this is all he wanted. The warmth of your body against his, the way you leaned into his touch, it all felt surreal to him. 

You’ve finally let your guard down around him and he noticed you gradually open up to him when you’re feeling sad or disappointed with something. Somehow he can’t bring himself to be like that to you yet, Satoru has this underlying feeling that you’d like him less if he starts showing vulnerability. 

But to his surprise, he feels like you like him more because of that. There was this instance where he’s so overstimulated after a mission because he had to take off his glasses to work on his six eyes. He started to become dizzy and everything around him was a blur.

As he sat on the couch, feeling utterly overwhelmed and disoriented after the mission. Despite his attempts to mask his discomfort with a feeble smile, you saw right through him, as you always seemed to do.

“Satoru, are you okay?” Your voice cut through the haze of his senses, casting him a worried glance.

He managed a strained smile before the brightness around him intensified, sending a sharp pang through his temples. "I'm...I'm fine," he mumbled.

“Satoru, you’re not a good liar.” You stood up to turn off the lights, only leaving the night lamp on, a soft glow illuminating the entire room, making it bearable for Satoru. He’s rubbing his temples, trying to ease the pain. 

He feels a weight dip in the couch, you gently remove his glasses and place them on the nearby table. Then, without warning, your arms enveloped him in a warm embrace, guiding his head to rest against the crook of your neck, fully covering his eyes.

Now that he’s calmed down, Satoru became acutely aware of the closeness between you. He’s lucky that you can’t see how his eyes widened at your action and how flushed he probably looks right now. Well, not that he can see anything right now. 

But he chooses to ignore the loud beating of his heart again, passing it off as adrenaline rush from the mission. He allows himself to relax in your hold, with your fingers threading softly through his hair, all his worries and fatigue melted away. 

Gojo Satoru had never known romantic love, let alone had a crush on anyone. So maybe it was just normal for friends to hold each other when one is tired or in need of comfort.

He loves to play with your hand when both of you are alone, while he babbles about something random and outright weird just so he could ignore how you make him feel. He tries to ignore the blush creeping up on his face when you listen to him intently, like every word that he utters matters, no matter how ridiculous it was. His feet always drag him to you because after a long day, all he needs is cuddles from you— oh, and your soothing voice too.  

So really, what is this weight on his chest when Shoko announced that you’re going on a date? 

Why is he pouting suddenly, assaulting his food as he stabs it continuously while you are gushing about what to wear or what to say when he knows you just look so beautiful even without trying?

Isn’t he enough?

Satoru buys you stuff, he takes care of you, he knows everything about you. He’s always hanging at your dorm after school, you’re practically like a couple at this poi–

Shit. 

Maybe he does have a crush on you. 

“I don’t know why you’d bother going on a date, Y/N. Guys are basically disgusting.” 

“Says a guy.” You rolled your eyes playfully while going through your closet. 

Satoru’s getting desperate now, why are you so adamant to get on that date? 

Satoru felt a knot of desperation tightening in his chest as he watched you model your top three dresses.  The first dress, adorned with vibrant florals, seemed to scream "first date" with its playful charm. However, you quickly dismissed it as unsuitable for the dinner date you had planned. Next, you slipped into a simple yet elegant black bodycon dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. It was hard to ignore the bitterness he’s feeling— you getting dolled up for a random guy. 

But it was the final dress that truly captured his heart. As you twirled around to show him, the white silk fabric cascading gracefully around you, Satoru found himself momentarily breathless at the sight. Your awkward smile only added to the enchantment of the moment. You look so ethereal. 

"What do you think?" you asked, swaying gently as you admired yourself in the mirror.

"I—" Satoru cleared his throat, his voice suddenly dry as he struggled to find the right words. "I think I like the other one better, the black one," he managed to say, though his heart whispered otherwise.

You somehow listened to his advice and wore the black bodycon dress that he suggested.

You looked nothing short of breathtaking, a literal goddess. 

It was the longest 3 hours of his life, each passing minute feeling like an eternity as he anxiously wait for your return. Despite his best effort to distract himself by distracting Suguru, his thoughts kept returninhg to you— wondering if you’re having the time of your life with your date. 

A small part of him wishes that the date didn’t go well and you’ll just spent the rest of the evening eating sweets with him all the while casting funny remarks on your date but he wasn’t prepared when you came home with mascara running down your face, your lips curved into a pout, and your eyes puffy and red from crying. 

Without a word, Satoru stood up to engulf you in his arms, furrowing his eyebrows as you collapsed into him.  “What happened, Y/N?” 

He held you close, a surge of protectiveness flooding his senses as if an attempt to shield you from the world.

“He’s a misogynist, Satoru!” You cried, your voice cracking. “So full of himself! I thought he was kind and sweet but then he just started babbling about his clan and how good of a potential husband he is. As if I want to marry him!” 

“Who was he anyway?”  He gently wiped away your tears. 

“Naoya Zenin” You sniffled, playing with the hem of his shirt. “I’m sorry I’m staining your shirt.” 

“No, no.” He whispered, brushing away the strands of your hair on your face. 

He took a mental note to research on the guy that made you cry later on. He realizes that the sight that he despises the most is the sight of you crying. He never wants to see you like this, ever. 

“You said you like the beach right?” Satoru spoke out of the blue, his hand tracing circles on your arm. “Why don’t we go to one?” 

-.-

And that’s how Satoru managed to spend all of his monthly allowance in a week. He booked a flight for the 6 of you (of course he wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea, he insisted it’s a vacation for the six of you— him, you, Suguru, Shoko, and even Utahime and Mei Mei because apparently you’re good friends with them too) 

So now here he is, about 200, 000 yen poorer. (help i don’t know if this is accurate) He wanted what’s best for you, so of course he’d spend a lot for you.  It was all worth it though, when he sees you in a baby blue bathing suit that he helped you pick out. No it was definitely not because it’s similar to the color of his eyes. Blue just suits you well. (Hence, he’s also suitable for you) 

“Satoru, you're going to catch flies if your mouth keeps hanging like that. Hey, are you also drooling?” Suguru pokes Satoru, who quickly straightens up when you look his way.

You gave him a sheepish smile, and he didn’t know what the fuck you’re doing to him because he feels a hard on coming his way.  Shoko notices Satoru’s flushed expression but she just continues to smoke, clearly enjoying the show. 

Eventually, everyone agrees to swim in the beach and try on the jet skis that Satoru had rented. What he didn’t know though, was the fact that you’re afraid of the ocean.

You were just hugging yourself while the waves crashed against your feet. The sight looks so cute but he wants you to enjoy it, so he uses his tactics to get you to join the group.

Unfortunately for him, you’re so stubborn to stay on the shore. 

“I don’t want to go, Satoru! It’s not funny! I might get eaten alive by megalodon sharks or something.” 

“C’mon! I’m really tall, I can protect you! Jesus, here—”  His hand intertwined with yours, causing you to blush profusely. “Just hold my hand, okay?  Hell, hold onto me if you like. I can carry you!”

“Your hands are uhm, really warm.” You commented, your voice tinged with embrassment. 

“Oh yeah?” He smirks at you, his gaze locking with yours. “You want me to warm you up?” 

“I’m gonna kill you.”  You deadpanned. 

Despite your protests, you ended up trusting him to pull you in the deeper part of the ocean. He even managed to get you to ride the jetski with him, the grip you had on his waist nearly suffocating him.

Satoru didn’t want to focus on the closeness between you two— your body pressed up against his back. If he does, he might lose control and drop the both of you into the ocean. 

Meanwhile, the rest of the group is observing the two of you while sipping on their Margaritas.

“God, these two.” Mei Mei muttered as she rolls her eyes. “Best slow burn romance I’ve ever seen for free.”

If anyone would glance at you and Satoru, they would immediately think you’re dating, but you’re not and it’s frustrating to anyone within your radius. 

Besides her, Shoko chimed in, her voice laced with amusement.   “It’s so painfully obvious that they like each other. They were comparing hand sizes earlier for god’s sake.” 

“Yeah, they should just fuck already.” 

-.-

“Okay, so you kiss the person the bottle’s pointing at.” Utahime explained excitedly, albeit a bit drunk.

Everyone’s gathering around the crackling bonfire bonfire, the warm glow casting dancing shadows across the sand.  It was now nearing midnight and you decided to play a game to end the night, which is spin the bottle. You spent all afternoon swimming and riding the jet skis Satoru rented. 

Satoru felt a bead of sweat form on his brow as the bottle nearly lands you and Suguru.

He wanted your first kiss to be with him, as selfish as that sounds. He internally cursed Shoko for suggesting this game. 

It landed on Shoko and Utahime, then Shoko and Suguru, then Mei Mei and Utahime. 

His nervousness escalated as the game continues. Satoru was busy praying that the bottle wouldn’t land on you and anyone that he failed to notice when the bottle finally came to a stop, pointing directly at you and him. 

“Ooooh” Utahime teased you, playfully poking your arm. “It’s you and Gojo!” 

You laughed nervously, shooting a helpless glance in Satoru’s direction. He wanted to protest but his curiosity outweighed his embarrassment. 

He wanted to know how it feels like to kiss you. 

Besides, it’s just a kiss, right? 

Satoru was stunned when you hurriedly pecked him on the lips before you retreated back to your seat. His mind raced as he tries to process the fleeting touch.

He just kissed you. 

He couldn’t believe it when you looked back at him with a subtle smile playing in your lips.  

The rest of the night was a blur for him, not because he was drunk. Satoru’s a lightweight and you know that fact, that’s why you were drinking for him.

While everyone else is playing games and talking about anything, his mind is still stuck on the fact that you kissed him

You’re his first kiss.

And he's yours too,

The gods had answered his prayers.  But that was barely a kiss in the first place, do you even want it or were you just pressured to do it?

The thought stings. So he took a couple of sips from Suguru’s beer bottle until he was tipsy enough to not think about your lips on his. Yet, with each glance in your direction, the memory of your lips on his persisted. 

-.- 

Satoru helped you go to your room, even if he’s a bit drunk himself.  Both of you were stumbling on the way to your room, but he thankfully he managed to settle you down on the bed as gently as he could. His attempt to withdraw was no use as you pulled him down with you, your grip firm yet gentle as you clutched his hand in your sleep. 

Satoru admired your sleeping state, your hair sprawled out messily on the bed and you’re gripping his hand.

Your mouth slightly open as you slept, emitting soft rhythmic breaths but then you started mumbling something—it first it was incoherent until you mumbled in a slur,  “I think you’re cute.” 

“Huh?” Satoru questioned, even though he heard you clearly. He just want to hear it again from you. 

“I said I think you look like a sack of shit. Fuck you.”  You clarified, your words still slightly intelligible and laced with frustration and humor. 

“Uh-huh.” He replied, feigning ignorance, his heart fluttering at your words. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Satoru brushed a few stray strands of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering momentarily against your skin. 

“You know,” You started, your words slurring as you looked at him with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my first kiss. It was really good even if it just lasted a second. Thank you for today, toru.” 

He laughed at your intoxicated state. You just look so adorable when you’re relaxed like this, the way your features softened and your laughter bubble up freely without a care in the world.

His gaze drifted to your lips, they seemed to beckon him to give in.  He definitely wants to kiss you now. 

Satoru’s heart raced as he struggled to fight the urge to lean in, knowing that it was a dangerous game to play. You decided to take matters in your own hands, shifting closer to him, your face close enough that he could feel you breathe against him. 

“Please, ‘Toru.” You whispered, your lips barely touching. “Please kiss me again.” 

Who was he to deny you that? To deny you? 

When Satoru kissed you for the second time, he took his time to savor it. His hand reaches out to cup your cheek and brushes his lips against yours. 

Your lips are warm and soft, he wanted to kiss it for eternity. Literally. He feels like in cloud nine as he kisses you deeper, slipping his tongue inside as you parted your lips, earning a soft moan from you.

Satoru weight settled against you, your bodies pressed together, breathing heavily as he connected his lips against yours once more. 

You taste better than any candy he has ever tasted. He might just get addicted, drunk even. 

“We shouldn’t—” He sighs into your mouth. You whimpered when he pulled away, your sweet voice going straight through his dick. “I don’t want to do this like this.” 

“What” a kiss. “Do” followed by another, “You,” then another “Mean?” then another.

You were peppering kisses all over his face all the while carding your hand through his hair, tugging it a bit to earn a reaction from him. He almost lost it when you squeezed him through his boxers. 

Satoru managed to pull away which he clearly struggled on doing when you pout at him, lips swollen and covered with saliva and you’re looking at him with those damned doe eyes. 

He pecks your lips, both of your cheeks, and he places a final kiss on your forehead, afraid that if he does more, he won’t be able to contain himself.

Satoru wants his first time with you to be special, one that’s not hazy and easy to forget. He doesn’t want it to be a mistake, like what he knows the both of you would agree upon if you talked about it in the morning.

He wanted you to remember, have it engraved in your mind and body for weeks. Satoru wants you to want him as much as he wants you, and he can’t have that in a drunken mistake. 

As you both drifted together in your sleep, he held you close, his arms wrapping snugly around your waist. It was the best sleep he had in ages. 

-.-

Satoru’s fear came true when you pretended like nothing happened the next morning. When he awoke, it feels like last night never happened. Your side of the bed is fixed and the only proof that you were ver there was the ache he felt on his arm, where you were laying.  Sure, he was disappointed but he’s contented with anything you give him. As long as he has you by his side. 

The kiss never left his mind, though.

Not even when you reached third year and you drifted apart from him little by little. His feelings for you remains the same. 

When Satoru is paired up again with you for a mission in the second half of your third year, you seem different from the Y/N he remembers. Particularly because you act like the exact person that he met in your first year.

Only, you look dull.

There are heavy circles under your eyes, your lips are chapped, and you look like you’re barely holding it together. Not to mention the only words that you utter to him are only about the mission. 

He got too busy honing his skills with Suguru, but he would make time for you if only you asked. But it’s like you were gone, everytime he tried to look for you, you were nowhere to be found. It’s like he barely knows you anymore.

You started to ignore him at the beginning of the school year. He noticed that you dyed your hair back to its natural color and whenever he goes.

You became a ghost in a way, and he’s left with the pieces of you that you once had shared with him. Satoru desperately wants to reach you but how can he when you’re always away? He doesn’t see you in your meeting spot anymore, you’re not in your dorm, no one gets close to you. The only time he sees you is during meetings with the higher ups and your clan. 

There’s an ache in his heart that only you can heal. 

So before you can run away from him again, he followed your footsteps until you reached the 7/11 store across the street. So here you are scanning along the shelves of the store, even though he knows you already know what you’re going to buy.  You still haven’t noticed him, which is confusing on his part. You must’ve been so tired. 

Ah, an energy drink and a box of cigarettes. 

Well, maybe you’ve started avoiding him too because of that. You know he’s going to get worried. 

Satoru taps your shoulder, making you yelp. You were about to shout at him but your expression softened when you saw him. “Oh, it’s just you.” 

It’s the first time in months where he actually saw you up close. He misses you so much it actually makes him dizzy.  Satoru stares at you for a few minutes before you poked him. 

“Hello? Earth to Satoru?”

He hasn’t heard you say his name too in a while. It felt like a breath of fresh air 

“You dyed your hair back to its natural color.” He pointed out. 

You hummed in response before going to the drink section once more. He observes you skimming the shelves even though he knows what you’re going to buy.

You’re just passing the time because you’re too anxious to talk to him but you aren’t really good at small talks.   

So he does that for you.

As you mechanically scanned the shelves, your eyes not really registering the array of products before you, Satoru noticed the evident anxiety in your every move. Wanting to bridge the gap between you two, he seized the opportunity to make you smile. 

“ah yes, there’s some items on sale here.” He declared, rubbing his chin with his pointer and thumb comically. 

Your quizzical expression met his as you questioned, “I don’t see any.” 

Undeterred, Satoru held up a familiar item – your favorite coffee – and flashed a grin "Here," he insisted, pointing at the non-existent 'sale' label.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "It's on sale. Look. It says, 'buy one take me.'" He gestured to the imaginary tag with a theatrical flair, his infectious grin inviting you to roll your eyes at him. 

Finally, you gave him a smile and you threw your head back because you’re laughing so hard. “You’re ridiculous, Gojo Satoru.” 

Satoru's heart skipped a beat at the sight of your smile, a warmth spreading through him at the sight of your genuine laughter. He likes seeing you smile. He’d do anything to see you smile. Even if it’s making a fool out of himself.

You grabbed his favorite drink and 2 onigiris then you dropped your energy drink. You walked towards the counter with him following closely behind.

After you’ve paid for the food, you led him wordlessly to the back of the convenience store towards the small parking lot and you sat on the ground. 

“Besides, I can’t take you.”  You broke the silence, handing him his coca-cola with a tremulous smile. 

“What do you mean? You’ve already taken me for granted.”  Satoru attempts to joke, but his playful expression dropped when you gave him a sad smile. 

“I’m getting married next year after graduation.” 

Satoru suddenly felt as if the ground had dropped from beneath him. The news struck him like a blow to the chest, leaving him breathless. He chewed on his lip as he took in your confession.

So that’s why you’ve been busy.

That’s why the higher ups paid no mind to all of his minor mishaps. His heart and mind raced, why so soon? Are you really going to let them take away your right to decide who you’ll marry? 

“To who?”  He said quietly, fidgeting with the lid of his soda. 

“Naoya Zenin.” 

A wave of disbelief washed over Satoru’s face. He had only met the guy once but he knows that Zenin is an absolute prick, not to mention a misogynist and a weakling. He even made you cry on a date. But he tried to relax his jaw and stay composed for you. “Do you want to marry him?”

“No.” Your answer was swift, the word laden with a weight he could feel in his bones. 

“Then don’t.” Satoru says firmly. Both of you fell silent for a while, you being defeated with the destiny your clan have paved for you.  

Could he really let you go just like that? To a Zenin asshat nonetheless?

He had always imagined that the two of you would eventually end up together, you have all the time in the world after all. So why does it feel like you’re already slipping out of his arms?  He’s not even sure if you like him, despite what Suguru and Ieri keep telling him. 

His train of thoughts were interrupted when you leaned your head on his shoulder. His arm instinctively finds its way around you, as if shielding you from your clan, from the world.  “I wish it were that simple. Nearly everything I do for my family is never what I want. I simply can’t not do it, Satoru. I need it to keep my clan powerful and relevant. I’m the only daughter of my parents. I have to do my best to make them proud.” 

“Well…” He stammers a little bit when your hand finds a way to play with his hair.  “what about what you want?” 

“Satoru, you know my freedom is limited." You laughed bitterly. “I’m still Y/L/N’s golden child and my clan’s on the brink of exclusion at this point. We’re irrelevant now and I’m not getting any stronger or richer. My family wants to take their place in the Jujutsu World. This is something I can’t escape from anymore even if I’d rather die than to be married to someone like him.” 

“Why Naoya Zenin though?” He’s getting frustrated at this point. Why were you not fighting back? Satoru couldn’t accept that, you relinquishing your freedom for the sake of others. You have already done so much. 

“He’s from a well-off clan and he’s strong.” you replied, a note of bitterness tainting your words. “My dad’s also biased with the Zenin clan so… I’m all set.” 

Well, he’s a Gojo and he is the strongest.  He is the inheritor of the six eyes anyway. Who is Naoya Zenin compared to him?  

“Well then, can you marry someone else that’s also strong?”

You scoffed, your hand leaving his hair before you prompt to fully lean your entire weight on Satoru’s side. “Yeah, but I don’t have much of a choice in the matter. Who else would I mar-” 

It’s now or never. 

“Me.”  Satoru blurted out. 

“What?” 

“Me. you should just marry me instead.” 

Wanna read more?

[cy-cyborg]

Dealing with Healing and Disability in fantasy: Writing Disability

[ID: An image of the main character from Eragon, a white teenage boy with blond hair in silver armour as he sits, with his hand outstretched. On his hand is a glowing blue mark. He is visibly straining as he attempts to heal a large creature in front of him. /End ID]

I'm a massive fan of the fantasy genre, which is why it's so incredibly frustrating when I see so much resistance to adding disability representation to fantasy works. People's go-to reason for leaving us out is usually something to the effect of "But my setting has magic so disability wouldn't exist, it can just be healed!" so let's talk about magic, specifically healing magic, in these settings, and how you can use it without erasing disability from your story.

Ok, let's start with why you would even want to avoid erasing disability from a setting in the first place. I talked about this in a lot more detail in my post on The Miracle Cure. this line of thinking is another version of this trope, but applied to a whole setting (or at least, to the majority of people in the setting) instead of an individual, so it's going to run into the same issues I discussed there. To summarise the points that are relevant to this particular version of the trope though:

Not every disabled person wants or needs a cure - many of us see our disability as a part of our identity. Do difficulties come with being disabled? absolutely! It's literally part of the definition, but for some people in the disabled community, if you took our disabilities away, we would be entirely different people. While it is far from universal, there is a significant number of us who, if given a magical cure with no strings attached, would not take it. Saying no one in your setting would be disabled because these healing spells exists ignores this part of the community.

It messes with the stakes of your story - Just like how resurrecting characters or showing that this is something that is indeed possible in the setting can leave your audience feeling cheated or like they don't have to worry about a character *actually* ever dying. healing a character's disability, or establishing that disability doesn't exist in your setting because "magic" runs into the same problem. It will leave your readers or viewers feeling like they don't have to worry about your characters getting seriously hurt because it will only be temporary, which means your hero's actions carry significantly less risk, which in turn, lowers the stakes and tension if not handled very, very carefully.

It's an over-used trope - quite plainly and simply, this trope shows up a lot in the fantasy genre, to the point where I'd say it's just overused and kind of boring.

So with the "why should you avoid it" covered, let's look at how you can actually handle the topic.

Limited Access and Expensive Costs

One of the most common ways to deal with healing and disability in a fantasy setting, is to make the healing magic available, but inaccessible to most of the population. The most popular way to do that is by making the services of a magical healer capable of curing a disability really expensive to the point that most people just can't afford it. If this is the approach you're going to use, you also typically have to make that type of magic quite rare. To use D&D terms, if every first level sorcerer, bard, cleric and druid can heal a spinal injury, it's going to result in a lot of people who are able to undercut those massive prices and the expense will drop as demand goes down. If that last sentence didn't give you a hint, this is really popular method in stories that are critiquing capitalistic mindsets and ideologies, and is most commonly used by authors from the USA and other countries with a similar medical system, since it mirrors a lot of the difficulties faced by disabled Americans. If done right, this approach can be very effective, but it does need to be thought through more carefully than I think people tend to do. Mainly because a lot of fantasy stories end with the main character becoming rich and/or powerful, and so these prohibitively expensive cure become attainable by the story's end, which a lot of authors and writer's just never address. Of course, another approach is to make the availability of the magic itself the barrier. Maybe there just aren't that many people around who know the magic required for that kind of healing, so even without a prohibitive price tag, it's just not something that's an option for most people. If we're looking at a D&D-type setting, maybe you need to be an exceptionally high level to cast the more powerful healing spell, or maybe the spell requires some rare or lost material component. I'd personally advise people to be careful using this approach, since it often leads to stories centred around finding a miracle cure, which then just falls back into that trope more often than not.

Just outright state that some characters don't want/need it

Another, admittedly more direct approach, is to make it that these "cures" exist and are easily attainable, but to just make it that your character or others they encounter don't want or need it. This approach works best for characters who are born with their disabilities or who already had them for a long time before a cure was made available to them. Even within those groups though, this method works better with some types of characters than others depending on many other traits (personality, cultural beliefs, etc), and isn't really a one-size-fits-all solution, but to be fair, that's kind of the point. Some people will want a cure for their disabilities, others are content with their body's the way they are. There's a few caveats I have with this kind of approach though:

you want to make sure you, as the author, understand why some people in real life don't want a cure, and not just in a "yeah I know these people exist but I don't really get it" kind of way. I'm not saying you have to have a deep, personal understanding or anything, but some degree of understanding is required unless you want to sound like one of those "inspirational" body positivity posts that used to show up on Instagram back in the day.

Be wary when using cultural beliefs as a reasoning. It can work, but when media uses cultural beliefs as a reason for turning down some kind of cure, it's often intending to critique extreme beliefs about medicine, such as the ones seen in some New Age Spirituality groups and particularly intense Christian churches. As a general rule of thumb, it's probably not a good idea to connect these kinds of beliefs to disabled people just being happy in their bodies. Alternatively, you also need to be mindful of the "stuck in time" trope - a trope about indigenous people who are depicted as primitive or, as the name suggests, stuck in an earlier time, for "spurning the ways of the white man" which usually includes medicine or the setting's equivalent magic. I'm not the best person to advise you on how to avoid this specific trope, but my partner (who's Taino) has informed me of how often it shows up in fantasy specifically and we both thought it was worth including a warning at least so creators who are interested in this method know to do some further research.

Give the "cures" long-lasting side effects

Often in the real world, when a "cure" for a disability does exist, it's not a perfect solution and comes with a lot of side effects. For example, if you loose part of your arm in an accident, but you're able to get to a hospital quickly with said severed arm, it can sometimes be reattached, but doing so comes at a cost. Most people I know who had this done had a lot of issues with nerve damage, reduced strength, reduced fine-motor control and often a great deal of pain with no clear source. Two of the people I know who's limbs were saved ended up having them optionally re-amputated only a few years later. Likewise, I know many people who are paraplegics and quadriplegics via spinal injuries, who were able to regain the use of their arms and/or legs. However, the process was not an easy one, and involved years of intense physiotherapy and strength training. For some of them, they need to continue to do this work permanently just to maintain use of the effected limbs, so much so that it impacts their ability to do things like work a full-time job and engage in their hobbies regularly, and even then, none of them will be able bodied again. Even with all that work, they all still experience reduced strength and reduced control of the limbs. depending on the type, place and severity of the injury, some people are able to get back to "almost able bodied" again - such was the case for my childhood best friend's dad, but they often still have to deal with chronic pain from the injury or chronic fatigue.

Even though we are talking about magic in a fantasy setting, we can still look to real-life examples of "cures" to get ideas. Perhaps the magic used has a similar side effect. Yes, your paraplegic character can be "cured" enough to walk again, but the magic maintaining the spell needs a power source to keep it going, so it draws on the person's innate energy within their body, using the very energy the body needs to function and do things like move their limbs. They are cured, but constantly exhausted unless they're very careful, and if the spell is especially strong, the body might struggle to move at all, resulting in something that looks and functions similar to the nerve damage folks with spinal injuries sometimes deal with that causes that muscle weakness and motor control issues. Your amputee might be able to have their leg regrown, but it will always be slightly off. The regrown leg is weaker and causes them to walk with a limp, maybe even requiring them to use a cane or other mobility aid.

Some characters might decide these trade-offs are worth it, and while this cures their initial disability, it leaves them with another. Others might simply decide the initial disability is less trouble than these side effects, and choose to stay as they are.

Consider if these are actually cures

Speaking of looking to the real world for ideas, you might also want to consider whether these cures are doing what the people peddling them are claiming they do. Let's look at the so-called autism cures that spring up every couple of months as an example.

Without getting into the… hotly debated specifics, there are many therapies that are often labelled as "cures" for autism, but in reality, all they are doing is teaching autistic people how to make their autistic traits less noticeable to others. This is called masking, and it's a skill that often comes at great cost to an autistic person's mental health, especially when it's a behaviour that is forced on them. Many of these therapies give the appearance of being a cure, but the disability is still there, as are the needs and difficulties that come with it, they're just hidden away. From an outside perspective though, it often does look like a success, at least in the short-term. Then there are the entirely fake cures with no basis in reality, the things you'll find from your classic snake-oil salesmen. Even in a fantasy setting where real magic exists, these kinds of scams and misleading treatments can still exist. In fact, I think it would make them even more common than they are in the real world, since there's less suspension of disbelief required for people to fall for them. "What do you mean this miracle tonic is a scam? Phil next door can conjure flames in his hand and make the plants grow with a snap of his fingers, why is it so hard to believe this tonic could regrow my missing limb?"

I think the only example of this approach I've seen, at least recently, is from The Owl House. The magic in this world can do incredible things, but it works in very specific and defined ways. Eda's curse (which can be viewed as an allegory for many disabilities and chronic illnesses) is seemingly an exception to this, and as such, nothing is able to cure it. Treat it, yes, but not cure it. Eda's mother doesn't accept this though, and seeks out a cure anyway and ends up falling for a scam who's "treatments" just make things worse.

In your own stories, you can either have these scams just not work, or kind of work, but in ways that are harmful and just not worth it, like worse versions of the examples in the previous point. Alternatively, like Eda, it's entirely reasonable that a character who's been the target of these scams before might just not want to bother anymore. Eda is a really good example of this approach handled in a way that doesn't make her sad and depressed about it either. She's tried her mum's methods, they didn't work, and now she's found her own way of dealing with it that she's happy with. She only gets upset when her boundaries are ignored by Luz and her mother.

Think about how the healing magic is actually working

If you have a magic system that leans more on the "hard magic" side of things, a great way to get around the issue of healing magic erasing disability is to stop and think about how your healing magic actually works.

My favourite way of doing this is to make healing magic work by accelerating the natural processes of your body. Your body will, given enough time (assuming it remains infection-free) close a slash from a sword and mend a broken bone, but it will never regrow it's own limbs. It will never heal damage to it's own spinal cord. It will never undo whatever causes autism or fix it's own irregularities. Not without help. Likewise, healing magic alone won't do any of these things either, it's just accelerating the existing process and usually, by extension making it safer, since a wound staying open for an hour before you get to a healer is much less likely to get infected than one that slowly and naturally heals over a few weeks. In one of my own works, I take this even further by making it that the healing magic is only accelerating cell growth and repair, but the healer has to direct it. In order to actually heal, the healer needs to know the anatomy of what they're fixing to the finest detail. A spell can reconnect a torn muscle to a bone, but if you don't understand the structures that allow that to happen in the first place, you're likely going to make things worse. For this reason, you won't really see people using this kind of magic to, say, regrow limbs, even though it technically is possible. A limb is a complicated thing. The healer needs to be able to perfectly envision all the bones, the cartilage, the tendons and ligaments, the muscles (including the little ones, like those found in your skin that make your hair stand on end and give you goose bumps), the fat and skin tissues, all the nerves, all the blood vessels, all the structures within the bone that create your blood. Everything, and they need to know how it all connects, how it is supposed to move and be able to keep that clearly in their mind simultaneously while casting. Their mental image also has to match with the patient's internal "map" of the body and the lost limb, or they'll continue to experience phantom limb sensation even if the healing is successful. It's technically possible, but the chances they'll mess something up is too high, and so it's just not worth the risk to most people, including my main character.

Put Restrictions on the magic

This is mostly just the same advice as above, but for softer magic systems. put limits and restrictions on your healing magic. These can be innate (so things the magic itself is just incapable of doing) or external (things like laws that put limitations on certain types of magic and spells).

An example of internal restriction can be seen in how some people interpret D&D's higher level healing spells like regenerate (a 7th level spell-something most characters won't have access to for quite some time). The rules as written specify that disabilities like lost limbs can be healed using this spell, but some players take this to mean that if a character was born with the disability in question, say, born without a limb, regenerate would only heal them back to their body's natural state, which for them, is still disabled.

An external restriction would be that your setting has outlawed healing magic, perhaps because healing magic carries a lot of risks for some reason, eithe to the caster or the person being healed, or maybe because the healing magic here works by selectively reviving and altering the function of cells, which makes it a form of necromancy, just on a smaller scale. Of course, you can also use the tried and true, "all magic is outlawed" approach too. In either case, it's something that will prevent some people from being able to access it, despite it being technically possible. Other external restrictions could look like not being illegal, per say, but culturally frowned upon or taboo where your character is from.

But what if I don't want to do any of this?

Well you don't have to. These are just suggestions to get you thinking about how to make a world where healing magic and disability exist, but they aren't the only ways. Just the ones I thought of.

Of course, if you'd still rather make a setting where all disability is cured because magic and you just don't want to think about it any deeper, I can't stop you. I do however, want to ask you to at least consider where you are going to draw the line. Disability, in essence, is what happens when the body stops (or never started) functioning "normally". Sometimes that happens because of an injury, sometimes it's just bad luck, but the boundary between disabled and not disabled is not as solid as I think a lot of people expect it to be, and we as a society have a lot of weird ideas about what is and isn't a disability that just, quite plainly and simply, aren't consistent. You have to remember, a magic system won't pick and choose the way we humans do, it will apply universally, regardless of our societal hang-ups about disability.

What do I mean about this?

Well, consider for a moment, what causes aging? it's the result of our body not being able to repair itself as effectively as it used to. It's the body not being able to perform that function "normally". So in a setting where all disability is cured, there would be no aging. No elderly people. No death from old age. If you erase disability, you also erase natural processes like aging. magic won't pick and choose like that, not if you want it to be consistent.

Ok, ok, maybe that's too much of a stretch, so instead, let's look at our stereotypical buff hero covered in scars because he's a badass warrior. but in a world where you can heal anything, why would anything scar? Even if it did, could another healing spell not correct that too? Scars are part of the body's natural healing process, but if no natural healing occurred, why would a scar form? Scars are also considered disabling in and of themselves too, especially large ones, since they aren't as flexible or durable as normal skin and can even restrict growth and movement.

Even common things like needing glasses are, using this definition of disability at least, a disability. glasses are a socially accepted disability aid used to correct your eyes when they do not function "normally".

Now to be fair, in reality, there are several definitions of disability, most of which include something about the impact of society. For example, in Australia (according to the Disability Royal Commission), we define disability as "An evolving concept that results from the interaction between a person with impairment(s) and attitudinal and environmental barriers that hinder their full and effective participation in society on an equal basis with others." - or in laymen's terms, the interaction between a person's impairment and societal barriers like people not making things accessible or holding misinformed beliefs about your impairment (e.g. people in wheelchairs are weaker than people who walk). Under a definition like this, things like scars and needing glasses aren't necessarily disabilities (most of the time) but that's because of how our modern society sees them. The problem with using a definition like this though to guide what your magic system will get rid of, is that something like a magic system won't differentiate between an "impairment" that has social impacts that and one that doesn't. It will still probably get rid of anything that is technically an example of your body functioning imperfectly, which all three of these things are. The society in your setting might apply these criteria indirectly, but really, why would they? Very few people like the side effects of aging on the body (and most people typically don't want to die), the issues that come with scars or glasses are annoying (speaking as someone with both) and I can see a lot of people getting rid of them when possible too. If they don't then it's just using the "not everyone wants it approach" I mentioned earlier. If there's some law or some kind of external pressure to push people away from fixing these more normalised issues, then it's using the "restrictions" method I mentioned earlier too.

Once again, you can do whatever you like with your fantasy setting, but it's something I think that would be worth thinking about at least.

[noxturnalmoth]

What Could Have Been

Summary: Silco, the Eye of Zaun, the Industrialist, was first and foremost a son of Zaun who wanted his motherland free. After an altercation in which his adopted daughter shot him in a fit of rage, he is left dying while the world goes on without him. His life's work and ideals soon trampled to nothing as his memory fades from the world. But what if he was saved?

Warnings: Canon violence

Word Count: 12, 750

Masterlist: here

Chapter 7 - War Drum Hearts

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Cheering.

A man three times your size throws a barrage of fists at you, he's strong, bone breaking type of strong. He'd crush your rib cage if you let him, but you won't.

I refuse.

Your confused, feeling like something is amiss but unable to remember just why. You are somewhere you know all too well, yet it all somehow feels wrong. More than it usually does, like reality itself is not real.

The sand beneath you kicks as you move, forwards, backwards, sideways, following a cadence of pure, unbridled violence. Imprisoned in a concrete cage for people's enjoyment you dance for them a dangerous waltz that could cost your dance, one you've been forced to dance for too long.

The arena is circular, tall concrete walls ending with metal fences so that spectators could observe the bloodshed happening within its confines. The sand the color of rust from all the lives taken in this deadly prison is the only true clue as to what happens here. Your own blood having tainted the powdery floor so many times it's stained the grains of sand.

Kha la-tastaslimas yadh'haba.

I will not give up.

I won't.

I can't.

So you slip through each of his hits, his weight and size a disadvantage when it comes to speed, slower in his movement than you. Vicious eyes regarding you with a sharp murderous haze while you avoid the flurry of punches, delivering yours each time he prepares his. Weaker yet delivered with a clearer mind, with a need to survive, with a rage too big for your young body.

If I burn him out I can win.

But he's chipping away at you, each graze burning your body, oxygen growing thinner with the exhaustion and body straining. Your confusion gaining on you, making you hyper aware of every sound, every feeling, everything you see. But you bite your lip, bringing your focus back to the fight at hand.

I just have to hold on.

His fist meets your chest and you wheeze, pushed onto the opposite wall, your back hitting concrete while you feel the shattering of some of your ribs. Your vision blurs as you feel pain all over, a hand holding your neck, the other bunched up and beating you black and blue. All your darkening sight can observe is the man's angry face as he beats you, your kicks barely doing anything to his gigantic frame, hands clawing at his forearms yet never stopping his assault.

It morphs from what it is to Keradon's face all too soon.

Thick, bushy eyebrows furrowed, lips in a nasty smirk. His face is sharp, animated by hedonistic, pedantic passion at your pain.

Yet you do not cry out.

Not one time.

Even as you feel life slipping away from you, a snarl growing from the anger rolling below your skin like insidious thunder. Destructive, all consuming, devastating. Your own weakness disgusting you as much as the man in front of you. But you will never give him the satisfaction from extracting a whimper of pain from you, not one cry.

The man who promised you a home and gave you a cage.

The man currently killing you, your eyes rolling back in your head, cheers louder as your body gives up on fighting.

I just have to-

"Come on, my dove. Hold on. You have to."

Your eyes open back, somehow enough lucidity striking you for you to wrap your legs around him, crushing his rib cage from the side. The hand on your neck ceases its grip, allowing you enough leeway to bite, the force of your jaw on the joints of his fingers enough to rip two of them apart. Blood and flesh filling your mouth as his index and middle finger, or at least a parts of them, are caught between your premolars.

His rage filled yell barely resounds against the cheerful chaos of the entertained spectators as you brace your hands on the concrete against you, pushing yourself and him backwards until he falls on his back. The man letting out a pained grunt before you begin to punch and claw at his chest, slowly digging a cavity as he fights back, now both hands around your neck and squeezing so tight you know your neck can and will break if you wait too long.

Strength begins to leave you once more but you continue, legs holding his hostage, hands caked with blood while his chest acts as a scratching post for your sharp, overgrown nails.

You have no time to do anything but fight.

Do not think.

Do not focus on anything but this moment.

Your jaw sets as a heavy gulp passes through your throat, begging for air while the grip on your neck tightens, your vertebrae screaming at the pressure.

I'm not gonna die here.

I can't.

"My dove, don't abandon. Come on, you're stronger than this, fight for Zaun. For me."

I can't abandon.

"Fight for us."

I refuse to give up.

And you punch at the bleeding chest that you've dug into. Hands around your throat growing weaker as bone cracks below your hands, spurring you into continuing once oxygen fills your lungs once more with each painful breath.

You won't die here.

The voice ringing in your mind so familiar yet so unknown. Like a storm you could see from afar, recognizing the phenomenon yet not knowing what it would bring you this time around. But it motivates you, fills you with a strength you felt was your own yet not at the same time.

Keradon's eyes try to keep open, but roll back as your fist finally punches through his ribs and into his chest. The hands at your neck falter, your own unoccupied grip moving to his neck as you squeeze, wishing he'd just die already. So that you could finally be free.

It's warm and wet in the cavity of his body, organs pulsating with life as they slow down from your ministrations yet your hand doesn't stop its pursuit. Picking ribs apart while the man beneath you writhes and screams like a feral, wounded animal, the sounds ringing loud in your ears and nearly rendering you deaf. Then you slip beneath his diaphragm, hand going under his left lung to access the battery powering his organic body.

A heart, beating and pumping the warm, sticky blood over you while you pull it out of its spot, body shuddering at the action.

"Do you really think any of what you've done will make you a hero?"

Keradon all but growls out, pain twinging his voice with what you could only describe as a desperate shakiness, his last attempt at confusing you so that his life does not end by your hands.

"I would never call myself a hero, you've made sure I will never be one. But I can be a wolf. Protect what's mine with ferocious strength, fight until the death for whoever and whatever I consider worthy."

The organ pulsates in your hand, shivering frenetically as if it knew what was about to come.

"And what do you consider to be worthy, little pup?"

The voice deepens and the face morphs again, nearly animal with its elongated snout, eyes sharp and predatory even in such a position, teeth now fangs made to rip apart flesh.

"Freedom."

"We're losing her. Shit!" The voice spits out, panic tinting his voice with shades of despair, shaky sobs choked out by the man's voice. "My dove, come on, fight back!"

"To live, to fight for what's right, to be happy without any guilt over our own existence, to finally prove to the world that our people deserve greatness as much as anyone else…to love."

"Her heart's still pumping, she's not gone yet. Cauterize the wound for Janna's sake!" The unknown man growls, commanding and terrified.

"You won't die then?"

"I refuse to."

"Refuse? Little pup, death awaits no one. It takes."

"It won't take from me, wolf. I refuse its terms. I refuse its presence in this very moment of my life. I refuse it. I will not die. Not like this, not yet. And it will have to respect my wish."

"Or what?"

"Or freedom will be its wish as well."

The beast beneath you sneers, amusement and pride overtaking its angry figure.

"Do it then. Take it. Take your life back from me, child."

You hand squeezes its heart as it laughs deeply, a hand resting on your hand with warmth and comfort you'd find such a monster unable to muster.

Then the heart bursts, your right arm covered messily in blood that is absorbed within your skin as the arena's lights turn off, darkness taking over.

Then it burns, the blood absorbed in your arms feeling like rivers of molten stones, lava in your veins, and your arm begins to crumble. Your yells of pain echo in the vast emptiness as you're brought to your knees, all that's left of your arm being your shoulder while you wail and gasp.

Then you feel the rest.

Your back, your left leg, your ribs…

They burn all the same.

Ashes crumbling where your leg was and leaving nothing but white hot pain, back feeling like skin was pulled apart from muscle. Violently, screams leave you as a light comes to view.

I'm not dying here.

I can't.

I refuse.

No matter how exhausted you drag yourself on the floor. Biting cold nipping at what remains of your leg and arm as you use what you have left to move forward, teeth gritting in agony, ears ringing and eyes tearing up.

"Her heartbeat's coming back to normal, the cauterization worked."

"She needs blood, Silco, she won't survive even after all we did if we don-"

"Take mine. She's done it for me once, there were no problems."

"It will be a lot of it Silco."

"I know Sevika, and I don't care. Just do what you must."

Silco?

Memories flashed through you, of a name that once gave you hope when in the pits, of a man who you saved, who became someone important, who painted the town red by your side. Then came the soft smell of him, tobacco and metal, the feeling of his warm calloused hands, the long black and grey hair you caressed before you went to sleep. The face you loved seeing everyday that you were allowed to live.

Scarred, marked by violence yet forever gentle when the warm teal and frigid orange of his eyes gazed upon you.

The face of your closest friend, of the man who has been offered another chance at life, of the strongest man you know.

The face of the man you love.

You crawl faster, the light coming closer and closer.

Then you remember the latest events. The revolution in the making, meeting Sevika, finding Jinx, Violet and Isha, meeting what was left of Vander. The commune, Viktor…

The fight.

Silco. You need to get back to him. You need to make sure Isha, Jinx and Vi are alright.

So as you glare at the blinding light you let out a war cry, your muscles screaming as you use what's left of your left leg and right arm to aid in your crawling. The cold dtone beneath you nearly pulsing with life, warmth bursting from it each time you move forward until the light engulfs you.

Then you get up with a choked inhale, whistling and pained.

"Silco!"

Your eyes are blinded by all that is around you at first. Unknown smells and voices filling your senses as well as familiar ones.

"I'm here my dove, it's alright. You're alive."

As vision returns to you, you find yourself on your bed, your room soon recognized even if your exhausted, pained state. People are leaning over you, holding your body. You can recognize Sevika, Violet, Caitlyn, Isha, Jinx and the rest is unknown to you, tending to your burning body.

A hand squeezes your left and you see Silco, hair out of its up do and strands of ink black and regal silver framing his shoulders and fluttering around his shoulders with each heavy breath.

He looks positively horrified.

Yet as your eyes find his, the tension in his body leaves him with a loud sigh, leaning backwards on the small, shoddy wooden desk chair with a heavy thud.

"What happened?"

Isha cries and signs what you recognize to be "I'm sorry" again and again before her arms wrap around your waist, Jinx patting her back softly as she looks at you tearfully. Vi looks down, lower lip trapped between her lips before she tilts her face up to meet your gaze with a poorly hidden sniffle, Caitlyn at her side with a loving arm around her waist before she nods at you. Sevika is next to you, holding your shoulders down with a concerned look over her face, her eyes shining with something you could only describe as a mix between devastation and admiration.

"You nearly died to protect Isha, Mrs. Silco."

You turn to the pink haired sister. The last memories you've made quickly finding your way back in your mind.

An explosion, Noxians, Isha holding an overloaded gun towards a mindless, violent Vander, you rushing to save the girl.

And Silco's expression of unbridled hopelessness and desperation.

"Told you not to call me that, kid. Glad you made up with your girl though." You smile at the two and they smile back, albeit with sadness swirling in their eyes.

"Well after the stunt you pulled, I think that's the most fitting title."

You huff, groaning when your ribs pinch against your lungs.

"Careful, smithy. You've got broken ribs, a burnt back, and you've …well let's just say you lost some weight."

"How bad?"

Sevika glances down at the blanket covering you and nods at the medics to leave, they pat your shoulder and wish you well before doing so and you nod in thanks.

"Try to clench your fists and move your toes."

And you do, but something feels wrong, something feels amiss, other than the excruciating pain there are parts of you that you cannot feel. The same ones that you lost in your dream

"Sevika…Pull the covers off."

"Smithy, I don't think-"

"Show me."

She sighs and her flesh arm grips the blanket, her eyes trailing to Silco who looks absolutely wrecked. Tears streaking his face, eyes falling from exhaustion, his arms on the sides of his chair as one is linked to yours with a tube not too dissimilar to the one you've used to transfuse some of your blood to him over a year ago. He nods weakly, eyes trained to your form as more silent tears escape him, his hand gripping yours for comfort, although you know that it's as much for himself as it is for you.

Then cold washes over your body as the warmth is ripped from you, the scarlet fleece covers taken from you by the woman behind you. You breathe shakily, shivers raising goosebumps on your exposed body, eyes trailing towards Jinx who covers Isha's eyes while her face scrunches up painfully.

And you look down.

Your dream flashes in and out of your vision, your left arm and leg disintegrating into ashes as your body burns from within. But what is beneath your eyes is not clean cut like carved stone, no, it's messy, bloody bandages covering ripped flesh.

Stumps instead of a leg and an arm.

A scream rips through your throat as sobs are choked out from the depths of your chest. Your back screaming and ribs cracking under the shifting of your body. The pain now at the forefront of your mind as confusion ebbs away to leave place to utter despair.

Sevika grips your shoulders and forces your head back on the pillow placed over the desk. But despite the strength of her action, her face was soft, pinched in an agony that mirrored yours.

"I'm sorry Smithy."

You had lost parts of yourself, but that wasn't what was the most painful. Isha's health mattered more to you then and it still does now. No what was painful was the horrible realization that you had lost what helped you help people, your means of fighting for Zaun.

What am I going to do now that I'm useless?

I can't make a new body for myself, I can't work, I can't fight, I can't-

"My dove, don't worry. We'll find a way." You hear Silco's voice for the second time since you opened your eyes.

"How? I can't- I can't do anything anymore, I'm useless now, I can't-"

"I'm…making you new limbs..ma- Smithy." Jinx cuts herself off before placing the blanket back on you to spare you the sight of your mangled body.

"Yeah, my sister's a little genius, the whole time you've been asleep she's been preparing blueprints. But she never got around to make them because.. none of us want to leave you."

"You've…Done a lot for everyone Mrs. Silco, even for me unknowingly. We'll be here for you just like you've been for us." You hear Caitlyn's heavy high-Piltovan accent say, your blurry, tearful eyes looking at her at her words.

"We're gonna help you, Smithy. Samira's gone back to her pharmacy with the plants Silco has brought back alongside you, she said that this was as important as bringing you back to health. That she'll keep in touch about how it's all going. But she brought enough painkillers to last a while and enough material so that we can take care of you."

You settle back, trying to calm down yet with the sobs racking through you, you can't help the bursts of pain flowing through your body at each movements.

"You're too important for us to abandon. You're one of us, Mrs. Silco and we're helping you back onto your feet. You've got a revolution to lead after all."

You look to Violet who's now standing at your side.

"I'm sorry for what I've done. I promise to earn my forgiveness. And it begins with this."

You nod weakly to the girl, her hand wiping away your tears as your eyes blur in exhaustion. Your eyes trail to Silco, wondering what would happen after you kissed him before marching into the fray with the same vigor your opponents had, yet as his eyes find yours again you don't find any confusion or resentment.

Only pure love, and a heart wrenching amount of concern.

Exhaustion takes over you again, the voices and figures around you erased into the nothingness of dreamless slumber. There, no pain reaches you, you only float in a warm, empty oblivion.

What will you do now? No matter how much they try to help, something seems to have shifted in the world, and it seems like the war that was brewing insidiously between the sister cities was all but ready to burst now. Will you be ready by the time it happens? Will you be able to help, to participate?

What would happen to Silco and his family?

You know they'll all march into battle, hand in hand, ready to protect Zaun. But are you going to be left behind, too frail to protect what you've built, what you've defended all this time?

Your eyes open once more, the light feeling remaining in your mangled body from the painkillers administrated to you.

Smell returns to you first, tobacco and metal. Then feeling, a hand caressing your hair softly and warmth enveloping you, a comfortable heavy weight keeping you close. Then your sight, the dark room illuminated by the neon lights outside, showing forms huddling together on the floor of your room, covered in fleece blankets not dissimilar to yours. Sleeping peacefully, the chaos of the past few…god knows how long, getting the best of them.

"Why did you do it?"

The low, velvety voice of your friend calls out from your right. You turn your head to see the glowing orange staring at you, eye bags so heavy that you could see them in the dark, cheeks more gaunt than usual, and hair disheveled unlike anything you've seen before from the man.

"Needed to protect the kid, she's important to your daughter."

"But are you not important to me?"

You sigh, wishing you could turn to curl up in his arms but only able to cup his cheek with your left hand, body cracking at the unused joints being extended after so long in bed.

"I couldn't let a child die, Silco."

"I should have known, I should have stayed close. Or I shouldn't have come with you all at all."

"None of what happened is your fault Silco."

"It always is. What I touch crumbles and those I love get hurt, die, or are left shadows of their former selves." His voice shakes as he talks, heavy breaths licking over your face like the heat from your hearth. "I could have lost you."

"But you didn't."

"Yes but I could have!" His whisper raises in a breathy yell to not wake up the girls sleeping on your floor. "What would I have done then? Live without you?"

"Yes Silco, you have your family back. You would have left one day or ano-"

His hand slides from your hair to your face and his lips clash against yours. It's passionate and desperate, he pours all of himself into what remains of you as if it'd undo all the damage, and in a way it does. Your eyes well up with tears before you close them, enjoying his proximity, his taste.

Coffee and tobacco, whiskey biting the end of your taste buds.

His other arm wraps around you slowly, light as a feather although his intentions are heavy, riddled with guilt, self-hatred, remorse, and love.

For you.

"Silco?" You breathe out, still disbelieving of the situation, too much happening all at once for you to believe this isn't just a delirious dream or the afterlife.

"You're the one good thing I have, the one thing that made me be a better man that I've ever been. You've built a life for me, and you haven't left. Even when I was difficult, even when I was anything but good to me. You believed in me and you gave me all that I could ever want. I don't want to lose you, you've been the foundation of my very existence since you saved me, you're…you're everything to me. If I were to lose you, I don't know if I'd be able to live, not anymore."

His breathing is heavy as he leans his forehead over yours.

The Zaunite symbol for love.

Although he can't say it, it all comes rushing to you like a torrent.

He loves you.

He always has, in his own clumsy, wordless ways.

When he cooked you breakfast, when he proposed to hold you in your sleep, when he gave you his dagger the night he caught you sneaking out, when he chastised you for working too hard, when he let you baptize him that day at the river, when he invited you to visit the mines…

He loves you.

"Silco…you've.."

"I have. It was impossible not to."

"For how long."

"Would you believe me if I said since the beginning? I've had to sort out many feelings, many memories, I've had to rebuild so much of myself that had broken and burned…And I couldn't dare to believe you would ever…love me back. I suppose."

You painfully turn to him, unable to resist the urge anymore and holding him with your left arm. His right arm wraps around your waist as your gaze finds his again.

"I believed the same. That once you've gotten back to where you wanted to be, you'd leave. And then when we've found Jinx, Isha, Vi and Vander, I couldn't help but feel that way more so than ever."

He huffs out a scoff.

"I would never leave you. Not even for them. Leaving you would be worse than death to me."

Tears begin to leave your eyes, face nuzzled into Silco's chest as soft sobs burn through your chest and out of your lips, his hand caressing your face and the other softly massaging your hip.

How stupid were you to not notice?

So much could have been done, lived, avoided, if you had only noticed his gaze on you, his actions and his words. Each mannerism so loving and soft towards you only a fool would see it all as friendship.

And what a fool you were.

"God I'm stupid."

He shushes you softly. "You're not. Out of the two of us I believe myself to be the idiot. I should have kissed you much sooner than you kissed me, it'd have saved us much heartbreak."

You nod, yet you do not blame him. Both of you have been denying your worth to the other to the point you could not even see the obvious love you shared.

"I'm so sorry Silco."

"I don't blame you, not for this, not for anything. You've always been a protector, I should have known something like this could happen. I'm not angry, but Janna…I was so damn scared. I've- I've seen you burst in shades of blue, limbs ripped out of you as the battle stopped to stare at your death like some sort of fucking show. I thought I lost you then without telling you-"

You can pinpoint exactly the moment in which he breaks. His shaky voice devolving into gasped words and sobs as his face slides to your neck, tears wetting it as he curls into you.

"I was a selfish man. Conceited, cantankerous, callous and egotistic. But you've turned me into something else, and I've never felt so alive, so happy. I couldn't lose you, I can't lose you. I'm sorry it took me so long my dove, I'm sorry it took this for me to open my eyes. I'm so sorry. For everything."

Your hand brushes his hair, long and knotted from his state of unrest as he shatters within your arms. Sobs melting into one another as you nuzzle your face to his hair and dampen it with your own tears.

All the guilt you've felt at loving him. All those fears at taking too much from him, at keeping him from what he was owed, what he was due, what he deserved, all evaporated at this very moment. All that was left were two naked souls, baring their fears to one another, kisses and tears shared as they fused into one another.

His lips reach yours again and you taste the salt from both of your messy wails. But it doesn't matter, your limbs don't matter.

"I'm alive."

"You are."

"And you're with me."

"Until the end of the line, my dove."

You sigh and press another kiss, greedily taking what you've wanted for months upon months. What your daydreams tortured you with.

"I've felt guilty for loving you because I felt like I took your friendship for granted, like I was using you. I didn't want you to leave but I talked myself into accepting the narrative that I was nothing but a transitory period for you, no matter how much the thought of you leaving hurt. I've never had someone see me like you do, I didn't know what to do, how to think. Especially when I realized just how much I'm in love with you. I was afraid to fuck it all up Sil."

"You could never. Not in my eyes."

The rest of the night is spent huddling up to one another, no matter if hunger struck you after days of not eating. His arms so comforting and warm you fell asleep curled up to him, the pain a faraway memory and nothing compared to how full your heart was.

The next morning you awake to breakfast, Silco softly feeding you as Isha curls up on your side. Jinx having gone away to tinker on her new prototype limbs for you and Violet and Caitlyn heading back to Piltover to check the state of things while Sevika leaves to take care of the Lanes.

Samira arrives soon enough, her arms wrapping around you before she pulls away to do a check up. Your body seems to be healing well enough, two weeks passing from when you woke up the first time, this moment being a week after the explosion.

So nearly a month had passed already.

"I took the notebook you had on you, carved the runes on the machine. It seems to work as expected but the serum still needs a bit of tweaking."

You nod weakly, a smile stretching across your lips.

"I'm glad then Sami."

"Where did you even find those plants?"

"The Herald."

You mumble sadly, remembering Violet's guilt stricken face when she told you that the kind, gentle man had been killed. That it was what led to what happened that night. The followers collapsing, the yells of pain, Vander acting the way he did.

"How was he?" She asks softly while re wrapping your bandages.

"He was a good man. He only wanted to help... I wish I could have done something."

"You already do too much dove, and that's how you've ended in such a predicament. Think about yourself more, please." Silco drawls from besides you, hand gripping yours in a comfortably tight grip.

"I am the last on my list of worries, Sil. I have too much to worry about for me to be further up in it."

"Then I suppose I'll have to do it for you." You smile up at him, cheeks burning as Samira chuckles, coughing out "lovebirds" under her breath.

"The antidote should be ready soon. I'll bring it when it's the case."

You nod in thanks and the woman leaves, Silco's thumb rubbing over the back of your hand enough to settle the pain you constantly feel as his presence brings you comfort.

More days pass without much to say. Sevika is preoccupied by the Lanes, Violet and Caitlyn still nowhere to be seen due to probably taking care of whatever is going on up in Piltover. Isha is still with you, insisting to bring up your meal tray three times a day and to make you as many entertaining games as a creative child like her can, many drawings now decorating papers stacked on your desk.

Silco takes care of the more "adult" side of things. He prepares your food, soothes you to sleep, administers your pain killers, re wraps your bandages and carries you to and fro the bathroom for baths and otherwise.

Even if you hadn't discussed labels, you knew that all this care, and that the new look in his eyes and the many kisses exchanged showed a shift in the dynamic. No longer were you friends, or at least you were now more than simply that.

No.

He's now your lover.

And it becomes clearer every night that you fall asleep in his arms, everyday that he cares for you, what you two have become. No name or nickname used to describe you other than "my dove", dry bitten lips on yours anytime he is near, soft talks about what you two think of each other, about unanswered questions.

"Why did you start calling me that?" You had asked one night.

"Because you bring me peace." He had answered before his lips were upon yours again his forehead soon softly knocking on yours in the loving, Zaunite way that lovers and families use to show their adoration to one another.

After another week, Jinx knocked heavily on your door, strutting in after holding her father and Isha tight. She hugged you softly with a shy look on her face as she presented finished mechanical limbs to you.

"I've made them really functional, 'cause I know you prefer simple stuff that works well over my usual more silly stuff."

The limbs look great. The arm is armored, strong and a soft blue powers it as she turns it on, showcasing the claws at the end of the fingers and the intricate heating process.

"So you can use it on the metal you work with along with your hearth! I also made it capable of generating a shield." She clenches the fist and does a heavy knocking motion with it. All of a sudden a large shield appears, the girl knocking against it with her own hand to show it is entirely physical, before she proceeds to undo it by making the mechanical arm do the motion it first did.

"And you can also rev it up here." She shows the wrist, twisting it as the arm does a purring noise. "And you can deliver a mean hit, on stubborn metal or stubborn people! You also have cool spiky knuckles for extra oomph!"

You nod as she imitates a punch motion with the metal arm, a heavy bust of air following the action and sending the girl flying backwards onto the ground. She giggles before placing the mechanical limb on the bed, the leg now within her grasp.

"This is a just basic leg, but it has the same rev thing as your arm. Basically, stomp your foot." She stomps on the ground with it, the leg whirring to life. "And then you kick!" This time she doesn't kick, Silco softly glaring at her in warning while she smiles at you, eyes big in wonder yet a twinge of hesitation passing through them.

You softly laugh along, your ribs healed enough for you to allow yourself such a pleasure as laughter.

"Come on then little Einstein, suit me up."

She nods excitedly, mumbling about how it would feel weird and probably hurt at first. And it does, your pained whines mumbled while you clench your jaw as Jinx begins by placing your leg on. Isha hugging your waist to give you comfort.

But you get up with Silco's help, wobbling after a month of not walking yet swiftly getting the hand of it. The arm soon follows, your hips leaning against your desk as you savor the feeling of standing after so long in bed.

The pain is excruciating once more, but when you feel the weight of the arm you can't help but sigh in joy. Nerves linked to the hand, you watch yourself clench and unclench, wiggling your fingers around as a soft giggle escapes you. You look at Silco, who is already looking at you with so much adoration that you nearly stumble as you limp your way to him and wrap both of your arms around his shoulders, your forehead knocking against his.

"Come here Jinx." You turn to her, Isha's tiny blue head picking from behind her with a big smile. "You too kiddo."

And you bring both girls into your embrace.

You've never felt so warm and loved, so complete. Yet here you were, held by three people that have stayed by your side through this, even if two of them knew you barely over a month.

"Thank you for this, hon." You cry as you pat her hair, now short and dyed with a streak of purple, the fringe still framing once side of her face like her father's hair does his.

"I know you want to fight, and I know how much you want to help. Staying like that wouldn't have fit you mam- smithy, I had to do this." A shiver racks through you as she shoves her face in your neck, the nickname bringing you to cry once more as you always seem to do lately.

"You didn't have to. But you did it anyways, you're a good person Jinx, never let people tell you or make you think otherwise."

She nods, tears wetting your shoulder.

"Please, call me Powder." You turn to Silco who smiles softly at his daughter, his arm wrapping tighter around you.

"Okay, darling. Powder it is." You kiss the crown of her head before wobbling to a kneeling position, cupping Isha's face with your hands. "And thank you Isha, for giving me my meals and entertaining me every day. I couldn't have possibly stayed strong without you."

You rub your noses together and she giggles her arms wrapping around your neck as she hugs you.

"Up you go!" You carry her in your arms as you stand back up, your body protesting at the movement but you couldn't care less. Everything feels heavier yet lighter at the same time, the metal limbs foreign in weight and texture, feeling obviously lost to them, but their strength helping you carry the child with ease.

Silco hugs you from behind, a kiss on your neck followed by a soft sigh as he placates his chest to your back, swaying you from side to side.

"Ew, cooties."

"Powder." Silco jokingly chastises and you feel a smile grow on his lips as he kisses the point where your neck meets your shoulder once more, his chin soon laying on it so he can look at his daughter. "You've grown into a great woman, I'm proud of you. We both are."

"So…Did you two stop being stupid?" You chuckle, Isha wiping your tears away as you nod.

"Yeah, turns out near death does that to people. A real truth serum if you ask me."

She claps her hands and hugs you, a squeal escaping her lips.

"Thank Janna! It was exasperating to watch really."

Silco snorts and one of your arms leaves Isha as you hand her back over to Jinx, the other pinching behind you at Silco's waist who pinches back at yours.

The girls leave together that day, Samira visiting soon after they hug you tight enough that you could feel your ribs breaking again.

"Thanks for everything mama."

"You're welcome Powder. Thanks for taking care of your father before." She nods with pursed lips before kissing your cheek, leaving with a bouncing Isha in tow.

So now here you are, sitting at the kitchen table with Silco next to you, one of his hands on your thigh, and Samira presenting a vial of a blue liquid to you.

The serum, what you've taken months to make to save Silco from an untimely demise. What could help hundreds or thousands here in Zaun with chemical related diseases from the water, the air…anything.

You could see especially now how much more grey Silco's skin had become. The exhaustion of the past month of taking care of you enough for him to forgo Shimmer completely, perhaps to suffer alongside you. Willing to feel himself decomposing just so he could share your pain.

What you and Samira discovered at the very beginning of your research was that the shimmer, although soothing the pain of the rot, made the healing of Silco's wound stagnate, solely freezing the bacteria's progress as the scratches stayed open and piled with more chemicals. Effectively, shimmer worsened Silco's state, letting it simply stagnate in favor of pain relief, instead of treating it. He had probably known, using it to his advantage to look menacing as the eye of Zaun, yet since no cure had been found after his new life began, he continued seeking shimmer as his only relief.

That time is now over.

"Do you want to tell him, or do I tell him?" Silco looks between you and Samira suspiciously and you sigh.

"Silco." You begin. "Darling." Your voice adds, the word naturally flowing from your lips and the hand around your thigh clenches as his face softens with the same look of adoration you now recognize from months back.

"Remember the project I told you about, the serum and the machine?"

"Yes."

"I may have started it because I know that shimmer is running low after discontinuation and that your infection is spreading. If it gets to your brain you could die, so I…well." You bite your lip in hesitation and he turns more to you, his other hand gripping your chin to make you gaze at him.

"Go on."

"I've taken samples from you, the river, and plants so we could compare and make a serum using shimmer as a base? This is why I worked so hard behind your back, I know shimmer has less of an effect on you and that soon it would be useless, if it didn't run out first at least. I kept it from you because I know you would have refused my help."

You let out a sigh and close your eyes, heart beating fast beneath your rib cage.

"Dove, look at me." Your jaw clenches but you obey, his eyes gazing at you with nothing but love, softer and more intense than you've seen before, ocean and fire clashing in his eyes.

"You've done it all for me?"

"Yes."

He pulls you in for a kiss, gentle and feather light before his hand reaches his injector in his pocket.

"Then heal the last part of me that is damaged, just as you have done the rest." His voice is soft as he says this, impossibly soft. And you nod, Samira handing you the vial before patting your hand.

"Is that why you've talked to the Herald?"

"Yes, Silco. He…was knowledgeable about runes, the missing part of the machine I designed. And he provided the plants needed to heal you, if he were still…I'd have much to thank him about." Your lips twitch, a knot of sadness tying itself in your throat.

"I think he knows, no matter where he is now." Samira answers back, your hands placing the vial in the injector with practiced ease before you lean over Silco.

Your left hand holds his nape gently while your right metal hand is braced against the marred side of his face, the injector encompassing his sick eye. Black velvet encasing brilliant orange trained on you like its teal brother, his hands soon holding your waist as a "go on" escapes his lips, breathy and calm.

So you do.

Silco always writhed in pain during the procedure, but the new serum seemed to sear him alive. He shakes and groans in agony while you see the blue of the serum penetrate his eye through his pupil, a blue tear escaping him yet the cyan tint that colored his orange iris doesn't leave.

Blue like the rivers in the Freljord, blue like the seas your people sailed long ago to arrive to Zaun, blue like the pure magic of the hex stone you used to create the serum.

The agony doesn't seem to stop yet you can already see a difference, the wet, grey wounds find back a twinge of red, blood irrigating the dead tissue. So you extend your hand towards Samira, hurrying her to hand you a paper towel so you can wipe at the wounds, now more reminiscent of early scarring instead of rotting cuts.

When you softly pass the paper towel on his face, some moist, grey skin comes off, and more blood seems to rush to his skin, his face already looking much better, while his now blue eye trails lazily to you, still fighting off the pain.

"It's working, the wounds look already much better. Samira, we've done it. We've fucking done it." You call out shakily, hands cradling Silco's face as your thumbs rub it comfortingly. "Darling, I know it hurts but what does it feel like?"

He takes a moment to take back his breath.

"I can…see again, my eye sees." He croaks. "It feels like ants are crawling in my skin, it burns but it feels like every time a wave of pain comes, the next is less important. Still hurts like hell though."

Samira sighs and leans back in her chair, a hand raking through her hair as she giggles.

"You crazy bitch. We did it." She mutters happily and Silco nuzzles to your stomach as you squeak.

"You did. Thank you Samira, for helping me even if you knew who I was."

"I owed her a lot, and I'm a doctor, I heal people. Even if you were once a bad man, this could revolutionize medicine in Zaun, I had to try."

"I think we all owe her a lot."

"You can say that again.

"I think we all-" You slap a hand over his mouth while you giggle, Silco licks at your hand and you laugh harder, wiping your hand on his shirt.

Samira groans out "not you too, she rubbed off on you, I'm out" and hugs you before she leaves, handing you a few more vials of the serum in the process. The next few days spent mostly in bed as you enjoy your newly complete body and Silco rides out the pain of his treatment, an injection a day seemingly enough after four more days for his scars to look entirely clean of contaminated flesh. His blue eye now brilliant blue instead of a dull shade, the orange long forgotten.

He seems more clingy as well, always holding you, lips always near or on you. His gratefulness expressed through physical contact and showing no signs of ever stopping. Though you couldn't complain.

It's like the two of you are catching up on a wasted year of constant pining. And you were, at least on your side of things.

Yet no matter how good things were at home, you couldn't help but pull Silco away from the comfort of your small apartment as you go to your shop, taking Sevika's new arm, before walking to the lanes. Your leg and arm feel weird, painful, yet you wouldn't have it the same, even if you limp, even if it feels choppy.

You'll get your bodily functions back before war happens, the thought of it dropping heavy boulders in your stomach. You need to get ready, you need to get your people ready, and mangled body or not you would.

The streets are empty, that feeling of impending doom that hurried you out of the comfort of your home amplified at the emptiness of Zaun. You can feel it, something is beyond wrong.

At the last drop Sevika welcomes you, hurrying you to the bar, yet smiling at you when you notice her putting on the arm you've just brought. A sigh of relief escaping her as she observes it, clenching and unclenching her hand in relief and wonder.

"News are that the Hextech Viktor's alive, and he's gone insane and allied himself to Ambessa to do some real bad shit to the world. As in bring the end of it."

You swallow roughly after her brief explanation.

"No, that can't be right. He's helped me heal Silco! He gave me crucial information! That can't be him." You shake your head.

"Jayce Talis is back." Your head snaps to her. "He's the one who said it, he's gone through some shit and he's seen what he's talking about. Apparently a weird sentient mannequin tried to kill him and Mel Medarda, yes she's also alive, and that was a person. A person that Viktor…evolved, or something. Jayce mentioned something about a glorious evolution."

You sigh and nod, crossing your arms and laying your head above them while Silco takes the lead, the thought of Viktor's kindness transforming into this warped, disgusting vision, enough to make you sick.

"And you want us to rally the Children of Zaun?"

"Yeah, I'm taking care to do that with the Lanes, Jinx is currently rallying the Jinxers. We think about making a small meeting once we've finished this. Get our ideas straight."

She hands you a paper, your head lifting from your hands as you take it.

"Got given this after the outposts were taken down, an enforcer handed that to me personally. It explains a bit more than I can, really."

Your eyes trail over the cursive yet rushed handwriting.

Hello Revolutionaries and friends of Zaun,

It's me Violet. Shit is looking god awful here and I wish I could come down to Zaun to tell you everything in person but this will have to do.

Jayce and Mel are back, Ambessa's got a crazy mage about to ruin both our cities by her side, Viktor, the Herald, and if he reaches the Hexgates we're all toast, beyond fucked.

So we have an army of nearly unbeatable puppets and Noxian warriors against us, so we'll need all the help we can get. Here in Piltover, we've done our best to train as many willing citizens as possible, both Piltovan and Zaunite after knocking down the barriers. The rest is currently being evacuated. We don't know how much time we have and we need your help.

Rally as many people as you can, because if we fail, it'll come down to you guys.

And if we all fail? Then the world is beyond fucked.

So please, I beg of you, Silco, Smithy, Jinx and Sevika, to help us the best you can.

Sincerely,

Vi.

You had been right, war is about to burst and it's worse than you could have ever imagined. Ambessa's will to bring the Noxian way infecting the sister cities before, creating the Kiramman rule, and even now. Viktor, changing from a kind man, willing to do good, to an insane psychotic mage. And all the people now back from the dead, bringing forth bleak news that could be nothing but true.

This wouldn't just be war, it would be a massacre.

"Did you start?" Silco asks, eyes looking over the letter after you hand it over to him.

"Yeah, Jinx too, I told her earlier this week when she came by with the little one."

You nod, so the Jinxers and trenchers were already on board and civilians are far away somewhere safe. Good.

"We'll get the Children on there too." The low velvety voice next to you confirms, and you breathe out a sigh.

"No time like the present Silco." You point towards the exit and he nods back, a quick handshake shared between him and Sevika then a soft knock of his forehead on yours before he heads out.

"How are you feeling?"

"It's strange to have limbs so heavy when you can feel nothing with them. But I have to admit, it's good to be able to get out of bed."

"I get you." You smile at her and she smiles back, a new mechanical arm clasping around your shoulders. "Take good care of the old grump, yeah?"

"As if I didn't already, Sev."

"And take good care of yourself." You sigh and clasp your own metal arm over her shoulder.

"Can't promise much after these news. When's the meeting?"

"End of the week, Sunday around three at the greenhouse."

"We'll be there, you can count on us."

She laughs warmly, her grey eyes looking at you softly.

"I know I can Smithy." She embraces you quickly.

"How's the arm?"

"Perfect." She takes it off of you and rubs your hair, you swat her hand away while chuckling.

"Then I'll take my leave, our people need us."

"That they do, Smithy. Stay safe."

"You too Sev, see you soon."

It all moves so fast. The red smoke in the sky calling forth those of your own who stayed, wearing their red bandannas like a badge of honor around their arms.

You explain it all to them, the threat you are currently facing, your alliance to Piltover in this conflict and all the good that could come out of it for Zaun if you succeeded. You tell them of the risks, the fate that could await many of them, death or even worse being turned into an evolved, murderous, mindless mannequin at the beck and call of an insane sorcerer.

The mission is to fight as hard as you can, provide back up to any and everyone that needs it, because no matter if death brings forth war, starting today you're all united under the same goal. Survival. And you will do better than Piltover has in the past, you will never disregard them, and you will never disregard your fellow Zaunites either.

The answer was clear as you spoke, the war you mentioned albeit different than expected had been coming for a long time. The people that call themselves the Children of Zaun, the people admiring you and working under your ideal have been ready to die the moment they began fighting by your side.

So with a heavy heart you walk to the greenhouse on Sunday, your people rallied and ready to be called upon for war. Silco looks strangely nostalgic as he enters the room, his daughter, Isha and Sevika already sitting down. A mop of brown hair crowning a tall man is also seen, the body leaning backwards on the table with an exhaustion you could understand yet not. The only clue of who they are is the hammer at their side.

This is Jayce Talis.

Creator of Hextech, Councilor…and a dead man back from the afterlife.

"No one truly seems to die anymore, do they?" Viktor had told Silco when they met, and if you could understand it then, now the meaning was even more jarring.

It's as if the whole balance of the world had changed into complete chaos.

"Councilor Talis." You call out and his head snaps up, body moving around the table to meet you. He looks different, coat of ivory yet clothes and armor in the Zaunite forest green you've grown with. Blood red splitting the two like a mark of death. His hair is longer, his beard has grown and his face is marred with several more scars. He looks unlike the boy you've known about years ago.

"You must be the blacksmith. Violet and Caitlyn talked about you, you seem to be faring well, I'm glad."

"As well as someone who nearly died and lost two limbs yes. But there's no time for wallowing, us in Zaun have been getting ready for war for a long time. Our people are ready." He nods at you, hand gripping your metal one in a handshake, his eyes looking to yours then to your mechanical leg in what seems like regret. "You seem…tired."

"No rest for the wicked, I suppose." His eyes are full of a darkness that seem to fester within him, just like the colored veins on his left wrist, wrapped around a stone that is set within his skin itself.

"I guess not." Your hand clasps his shoulder comfortingly and he nods a bit, a small smile on his lips.

His eyes trail to Silco and although his mouth purses, the younger man sighs, going for a handshake with the man too.

"Good to see you on our side, Silco."

"Good to see you've grown, although I wish it wasn't as painful as it looks like it has been. We're glad to have you back around, you were always one of the only trying to make Zaun more comfortable back then. Even through the manipulation and mind games the council subjected you to."

"Thank you. I'm glad to see you healthier. And happier." Silco nods, his eyes gazing at you from the side as his hand clasps around yours.

"Come on Golden Boy, explain us the game plan." A friendly smile stretched on your face, exhausted from pain and the war you've been thrust into so quick into your recovery.

You three make your way to the table, greeting the others. Jinx holds Isha close in her lap, the child focused on Silco and you as she waves, the man next to you waving back with a warm smile, his arm around your waist as he pulls a chair out for you. You turn and kiss him before sitting, him soon following next to you. Sevika smirks, an eyebrow raised at the scene while she flicks her lighter to light the cigarette between her lips, a cigar sliding to her ex boss before he lights it too. A soft groan passing by his lips at the first inhale as he puts the stick to your lips, the smoke filling your mouth with woodsy, spicy notes.

Then Jayce takes his place, standing and hunched over the table, two hands bracing him. His expression is grave, eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed and pulled down as if gravity itself affected his entire being down to every part of his face. His shoulders heave along with with his armor clad chest, eyes dark before he shakes his head as if clearing his mind from unneeded…no, unwanted, thoughts.

"As you can see, a lot is wrong." The lot of you nod. "The arcane that I wished to use to help the world, help Zaun, has backfired on us. More than a simple energy, it is a capricious, chaotic entity, and it has turned its back on us while also helping me see the way ahead clearly. My ex-partner, Viktor, has lost himself to its call after I saved him from death using the Hexcore, a self learning rune that we have created thinking it could revolutionize the world."

The air grows heavy, so Viktor did die that day at the council, but Jayce Talis, the man looking so solemn and worn before your eyes, had brought him back using a tool they've made to heal and save.

"The arcane corrupted him?" The man nods at your voice.

"Yes. The Hexcore, through whatever means and whatever Viktor did to it to save himself, had developed an obsession with him. A self learning rune soon becoming a sentient being. It saved him, but the cost was eating away at his humanity, his feelings, all that made him himself. I…that night where it all went down, when you've lost your limbs, I killed him. Yet the arcane flowing through him kept him alive, and his corrupted mind has lost itself fully to the unfeeling chaos that magic was pulling him towards. His healing was true, but his powers made everyone into a hivemind, that he now plans to use to evolve humans into mannequins. Not able to tire, be hungry, or even feel. He calls it the glorious evolution. And now fully believes that this is the only way to heal humanity of any ailment, any impurity..any imperfection."

He nearly spits out, eyes turning to you with nothing but guilt as he observes your body but you shake your head, a hand raised to wave him off. No matter what qualms you could have against him, the man clearly knows more than you and if a few body parts were the cost for freedom and safety then so be it.

"What is your plan then, Man of Progress?" Sevika calls out.

"We've recruited and trained willing civilians from both of our cities, yet we know that it won't be enough. Not against an army of nearly unbeatable constructs, nor against a Noxian army. Ambessa, true to her nature, stands by his side to achieve whatever plan she seeks to see through. And we cannot let that happen. Not only for Zaun and Piltover. But for the whole of Runeterra. Violet, Caitlyn and the rest of the strike team will lead the new allied forces up in Piltover while I go to the Hexgates, alone. I will shut them down to take more precautions against Viktor, and I'll be the one to fight him. To…kill him."

His voice nearly shakes at the end, breathy yet choked. But he remains steadfast.

"I thank you, leaders of Zaun, for heeding my call. No matter our differences and our nations' history with one another. We will need all of the people we can get to fight this war, no matter who they are or where they're from. While Piltover will have our main force, you will be our back up, our joker card. Prepare yourselves and stay on guard because as soon as the tides turn against us and our Hextech and manpower cannot hold against theirs anymore, you will come into play. As both distraction and a second wave of allies."

"What's in it for us, Golden Boy?" Jinx calls out, violet eyes trained on the broken man at the head of the table.

"Zaun will obtain free trade routes, blanket amnesty and sovereignty. Hextech is to be destroyed after the battle is won."

"If it is won." Silco adds from besides you and Jayce nods heavily.

"Noxian soldiers are more war machine than human, they do not fear death and they march into the fray with a passion so burning that their steps might as well singe the ground they walk on." You add. "But what of the mannequins, what are those constructs like Jayce?"

"They're agile and quick, beyond anything human, and hold a strength and durability that made the one I've gotten rid of hard to kill even with my hammer. I've had to fight alongside Mel who…is also a mage, for it to even begin to crack."

You run a hand over your face, the other Zaunites looking as distraught as you while all of you take the information in.

"So you expect us to waltz in, us normal humans with basic weapons and no magic, to kill those things?" Sevika scoffs.

"It's the only way. We can try to hold them off as long as possible until my fight with Viktor ends. I won't let myself lose, and if I do…I'll take him down with me, no matter what." His voice grows more and more somber.

"No matter what we think, we have to get in on this. Plus, we've already all rallied our people to the cause. You'll have our help Jayce, not simply out of need but also out of respect. A truce that will lead to a betterment of our lives, all of them. We will not lose, no matter how many people we lose, no matter if we die too, we will not permit this to happen. Not under our watch. We will look the wolf right in its ugly maw and refuse its terms, and it will have to accept."

Your voice rings in the greenhouse as you stand.

"This is bigger than any of us and you will have our support. Will we have yours?"

"You always did."

"Then it's settled. When do you plan on getting to the Hexgates?"

"Right after our meeting is dismissed."

"Jinx." She turns to you, Isha in her arms looking at Jayce with big amber eyes, respect swirling within them.

"Yes?"

"Do you have the Firelights in on the plan?"

She smirks, her eyes glowing with mischief. "Something like that, yes."

You eye her suspiciously, looking at the green paint on her and Isha's clothes in hourglass shapes before your gaze widens.

No, that can't be.

From your expression she can tell you've understood. But Silco and Sevika as well as Jayce look to the girl confused and you huff out a laugh.

"Let's just say you'll get airborne support." That kid. Her and Ekko, the leader of the Firelights who also apparently came back from the dead, will never stop surprising you.

"Then, council dismissed." Jayce's voice calls out, everybody hopping out of their chairs to quickly walk out.

You all shake hands, foreheads softly knocking against one another's between Zaunites as you wish your goodbyes, a tight embrace shared between Silco, Jinx, Isha and yourself. Sevika and you hitting your mechanical fists together before you turn to Jayce, holding the man's nape as you place your forehead on his.

"You care about him, don't you?"

"More than anything in the world…I started Hextech to help the world, but as time went on…I just wanted to help him more than anything."

"Then there may be a chance for you to sway him. Don't lose hope Jayce. It and love are all we have in this world, all that truly matters. Now go get him, champ."

You clasp a hand on his shoulder firmly and he smiles, tension leaving his body.

"You take care of Silco, yeah?"

"As if you needed to ask. Take care of yourself Talis." His hand clasps around your own shoulder as an answer and a counter and you nod. "Don't worry about me and go fight your war, we'll be by your side."

Yellow and red flares bust in Zaun's metal plated skies, calling forth the Lanes and Children of Zaun factions. The roofs and streets filled to the brim with people ready to fight for their lives, with their lives. Clad in the earthy tones of Zaun, they stand, steadfast, determined, strong willed, looking up to Silco, you, and Sevika for orders that they'll follow no matter the cost.

The fight has already begun, explosions and yells heard all the way from the Entresol level as blood and ash seems to rain. You see bursts of Hextech blue,

"This is it, the moment you've been preparing for, yet at the same time it is nothing like it. You expected a war and it is now delivered to you on a silver plate, yet not against Piltover, but against a common enemy. Ambessa Medarda of Noxus, her armies, as well as the Herald and his constructs plan to pull the world under their thumb and crush it. Severing any ties to our humanity in exchange for gods know what. We will not accept their terms and we will fight." Silco's voice echoes through the heavy air, chemicals and tension feeling like lead in your lungs.

"We, as Zaunites, have always fought for our freedom, always rebelled against the status quo. We were ready for war, for death, always ever since Shurima fell millenniums ago. But today, against this threat, we have to ally ourselves to those who have persecuted us for centuries. And I know how it feels, when we have never been helped, to suddenly be expected to fight with someone you hate. But this is a matter bigger than us, bigger than them, it's a matter that concerns the whole of Runeterra. And we will be there, we will fight, not only as Zaunites but as people of this world! We will go there and we will show the world who we are!"

The people rage at the sound of Sevika's voice, cheering and saluting with all they have.

"And if we die? Then so be it. Our enemy is great, greater than all of us combined. But one thing they don't have is unity, emotion, brotherhood…They lack what has made us into the strong people we are, and we will prove them wrong in underestimating us! But we will. Not. Stop. Fighting. And we won't lose. It is not an option we can afford, it is not an option we will accept! So if you see someone clad in blue? Help them, protect them, fight with and for them. The maws of hell have opened and we are about to march into the fray against demons. So tell me, Zaunites. Will you fight with all you have?" You yell out, fists clenched as you watch the people before you, trying to carve all of their faces into your memory so you would never forget them.

"Yes ma'am!" The voices answer in unison, a symphony of strength led by the baton of hope as Silco, Sevika and you act as the conductors of this orchestra of rebellion.

"Will you step into this battle, knowing you may lose everything, even your humanity?"

"Yes ma'am!" They echo, the sound enveloping the whole of Zaun like a choir.

"Are you ready to fight for the respect you are owed, the life you were never allowed to have? For love that would have been taken away from you?" Silco's hand squeezes your right one, the warmth and weight slowing your racing heart through the sheer comfort of his presence.

"Yes ma'am!" They grow louder, hearts beating in unison like a Noxian war drum, as strong as an army, as ferocious as a pride of lions.

"Then brothers, sisters, let's get ready. For the fight is soon to happen, and our help will be needed. We are the last line of defense this world has, and we will not fail!"

The cheers ring once more as Sevika explains the meet up time. An hour from now, you will march towards Piltover, crossing the bridge as you make your way into battle. Ready to fight and to die for what you believe in, the world.

The walk to the bridge is silent between you and Silco, steps fusing with the crowd behind you in a nearly militaristic cadence. Sevika to your right, her own group following her in the same tempo.

The heartbeat of Zaun.

That is it.

As you're looking to Piltover fighting with all it has you can't help but choke out a sigh.

It's the end of the line.

You shiver, eyes glossing over with tears as you think back to all that you've done, how hard you've fought. From the bowels of hell in the Sump, to the heights of Piltover, you've never stopped fighting. For your life, for your people, and now for the world. It's bittersweet to think that the one good thing you've managed to gain will probably slip away from you in this fight. Not your only friend anymore, but your lover. The man whom you've wanted for the past year, finally yours, yet soon to be taken away by the world which placed him in your careful hands.

Silco, who's been taking care of you as much as you did for him.

Who patched you up after every mission, cooked for you, held you so you could fall asleep and always reminded you to care for yourself. The man who didn't hesitate one bit in following you in your fight for freedom, who didn't waver when your death seemed certain, the man that let you see the good and the ugly parts of him despite his hatred for himself. Just because he loves you.

You hated that it took you so long to realize his affections, yet as his hand griped yours you can't help but be glad that you knew even if it is too late. You regretted all the time you could have spent being his, yet as his regal figure straightened besides you, you're just glad you were by his side the whole time. That you were the reason he healed in the first place.

If you were marching to your death, at the very least the man you loved was by your side ready to die after giving all he had, all those years of silently bubbling rage finally coming to a use as you two burn brightly in the chaos of war.

"My dove."

You turn towards Silco, chest heaving shakily as you try to prepare yourself for what's about to come.

"Yes, Silco?"

His breathing is as heavy as yours, his eye patch gone to let the new scarring flesh and the cerulean blue of his iris show. A new, healed, better Silco.

A man who got back all that he's lost and who was ready to let it all go one last time to fight for what he has always fought.

For love.

"I love you."

"What?" You turn towards him, the words foreign coming from him although he's never hesitated in showing you just how important you were to him through every other way.

"I love you, my dove. If we are to die in this battle, I refuse to let monsters or humans take my confession away from me before I can give it to you."

The glossiness of your eyes blurs, leaving trails of tears behind, carving and eroding at your cheeks as Silco goes to hold your face, his rough hands cradling your cheeks before his forehead knocks against yours.

"I love you too. Beyond what any word can explain, beyond what any action can show."

"I was made to love you, by you. You molded me into a man worth loving, my dove, and I can't ever fathom to be able to show you just how thankful I am for all that you've done, and for allowing me to love you."

He kisses away at your tears before your hands make their way around his shoulder, metal gripping his up do and undoing it so you can tug his hair and make your lips meet.

It's salty, not only from your tears but also his who started flowing like a sudden downpour. You are quite possibly going to lose one another today, but it will not stop you from loving.

Quite the opposite.

Behind you, brothers and sisters embrace, lovers share one last kiss, parents hold their children and friends commit to one last clutch. And when your kiss with Silco ends, you put the inky strands back into their usual bun, caressing his scalp as you go, your gaze shifting to Sevika who stands alone as her group follows yours in its initiative.

"Let's go." You take your lover's hand and drag him to Sevika before you hold her tightly, her arms wrapping around you as you feel her shake in anticipation, in fear.

"I hope our sacrifices will matter." Her voice mutters in your neck, muffled words reaching your ears softly.

"We will make them matter, Sev. For Zaun. For the world." She nods when she pulls back, your metal fist bumping against hers.

"Good luck, sister."

"Same to you, sis." You leave her side as Silco steps forward, right hand clasping Sevika's.

He looks proud, a smile stretching over his lips albeit tired and the woman smirks back.

"You've grown into a leader Sevika, what you should have always been."

"Don't get all sappy on me, Silco."

"What can I say, such times call for a bit of sentimentality."

"Your eye..It's healed?" The man nods, his eyes trailing to you with his ever so loving gaze.

"She's done it, for me."

"Then you better come back from this. There's no letting go anymore."

"Fate will not keep me from happiness anymore, and I will fight for it with all I have. So you do that too, Sevika. We will both see you on the other side."

"You can count on it, old man."

They let go before Silco returns to your side, both group following you three as you march into Piltover.

"Good luck, and thank you all." Silco calls out, voices from behind you responding with grateful words and fearful good luck wishes.

You lean towards the man, left hand holding his right and squeezing to stop the shaking of your body.

"If you die I'll kill you, darling." You tell him softly, his right eye widening, the teal snapping to you before a gentle smirk slices through his face, revealing his chipped teeth.

"I can say the same to you, my dove. Now behave, this is a crucial moment." He teases.

"Bite me."

"Perhaps after we're done and have less of a company." His voice deepens, eyes full of fear and determination yet mischief swirls within their depths, something else following it in the whirlpool of his soul. Something hungry that disappears soon after Sevika steps out of the bridge.

Smoke covers all that you can see, shapes and silhouettes are anything that you can make out, yes figures cut through the fog. Fast, white and gilded, inhumanly human in their shape.

Constructs.

Your chest heaves as your hands reach towards your belt, the Noxian knuckle blades held tightly in your flesh and metal grip.

Suddenly your hair is pulled and lips are upon you once more, the tension at the sudden movement quickly melting as your lips mold against Silco's. The kiss ending with panted breaths as he nods at you, your head replicating the movement as your eyes trail back to the smoke before you.

You catch Sevika's eyes and nod.

"Charge!"

And your body lunges forwards, blades cutting through the air as you make your way into the bloody, chaotic battlefield, war cries escaping your own throat and the other Zaunites'.

The war had begun and you would not fail.

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[caden-bookdragon]

Let’s talk about the rooftop-scene and in my opinion the wasted potential of Connor not becoming deviant in it, especially when he became friends with Hank through the game.

When Connor & Hank are fighting after their emotional talk & Hank suddenly wins & holds Connor over the ledge. Connor asks him one last time: “Moment of truth Hank, am I a living being or just a machine?” He forces Hank to think again about the question if Connor is alive or just a machine. Also he applies to Hank’s humanity & wants to use it against him. Especially with the revolution which is ongoing behind their backs. For machine Connor emotions are weaknesses which he can use against Hank. Even though everything they have gone through, Hank decides that Connor is just a machine & lets him fall. Which is understandable because Connor’s actions didn’t let him think in any other way. Hank is a broken soul who has lost his trust in humanity. Of course he couldn’t think that Connor is a living being after seeing him do everything for his mission. Even use their friendship for getting the information about Jericho’s location. So machine Connor is the logical solution.

Now let’s talk about the second outcome, when Hank & Connor are fighting and Connor wins. He also holds Hank over the ledge, but instead of holding onto his own life, like Connor in the scenario before, Hank opens his arms, looking into Connor’s eyes & asking him: “Moment of truth Connor. What are you gonna do?” Even though you can choose to spare Hank, it’s not a real choice. If you spare him, he will try to push Connor from the rooftop again & one of them will definitely fall & die. But why should machine Connor choose to spare Hank? Especially when they are friends, Connor should know the best how stubborn Hank could be if he is determined. So Hank would definitely still be a thread for his mission if he let him stay alive. He would still try to stop Connor, doesn’t matter how much it costs. Also we can see how determined Hank is with his own mission when he said: “You know ever since Cole died I’ve been nothing but a coward, just wanted to destroy myself. Lost track of the man I was. Do you know what? You don’t f*cking scare me, Connor. I remember who I’m now. Come on.” So why should Connor let him stay alive when he definitely knows how determined Hank is to stop him? He isn’t the man from the beginning anymore. He has found himself again, just for the purpose of stopping Connor. So wouldn’t it be the most efficient way to k!ll Hank in favor of the mission?

Also if Connor becomes a deviant & will be hacked by Cyber Life, Amanda answers Connor’s question about what's happening: “What was planned from the beginning… You were compromised and you became a deviant.” She literally says that it was planned to let Connor become deviant! It was Cyber Life’s plan all the time. So why do we have only one situation in which Connor can become deviant? And it’s only with Markus.. In my opinion it would be more logical when Hank, the person with whom Connor has the deepest relationship with, would be a trigger for his deviation. Especially when it comes to Hank’s potential death. Deviation is triggered because of strong emotions, why should Connor feel nothing, when he sees his friend almost dying before him (after he rescued him more than once e.g. falling from the roof in “The Nest”). Yes I know we are talking about machine Connor, but does the decision to stay a machine really erase the possibility for Connor becoming deviant? And wouldn’t it be a strong turn when Connor has decided to stay a machine, but then becomes deviant because of the purpose to save Hank? Tbh I would have loved to see that!

Markus turned deviant because of his father-figure Carl & Kara became deviant for her adoptive-daughter Alice. So why is it just Connor who didn’t turn deviant for the person he has the deepest relationship with? I think it’s wasted potential to not use their relationship for Connor’s deviation. Especially because it would underline that Cyber Life lost against their own creations which they wanted to control again, but the desire of the androids to stay alive is much stronger than their creators. Also we would get another potential Happy Ending for Connor and Hank & also the chance that they both started to fight together for the androids, which would be very cool. After all they have become a team & I think Hank deserved to stay at Connor’s side fighting for the freedom of the androids.

Sorry for the long talk, but in my opinion it’s just logical that there should be an option of Connor becoming a deviant on the rooftop scene. It seems wrong to me that he doesn’t become deviant even though he rescued Hank & tbh when I saw this moment first I thought there would be this choice. And tbh there are enough potential scenes in which Hank dies.. He deserved another Happy Ending & not just one. Also I love the deepness of the relationship between Connor & Hank & I think that a deviation on the rooftop would make it even deeper.

Thank you for reading & please remember that’s my opinion & just some thoughts about the situation & Connor and Hank’s relationship. I wanted to write here because I love Connor & Hank a lot & would have wished for such an ending.

[10underoot2]

Faithful Lovers

This scene has become one of my favourite things to exist.

I love this scene for the rawness and openess of conversation. It's both of them telling each other with so much conviction why they need the other to see their perspective. It's vulnerable, it's beautifully done, it's art.

The pain in the hug is so palpable but so is the comfort. It's so hard to see her trying to add distance between them - before Hyunwoo pulls her into his embrace - cause she can.not.be.swayed.by.him. Does Hyunwoo apologise for putting her in a situation like this? For not realising just how much she has to lose? Or for being selfish begging her to say yes to this surgery?

Don’t do this to me. Don’t make me want to live. I won't be able to recognize you. I'll become a stranger.

First things first, thank you Kim Jiwon for that delivery. It killed me emotionally, made me cry and want to hug you even more. Protect this beautiful smoll bean at all costs.

Notice how one of the major things that keeps breaking her resolve is him. His love. His understanding. His physical being. Yet the only thing stopping her from living is also him . His memories. His love. Him.

When he tries to convince her that she will fall in love with him again her little head shake says 'But it won't be the same.' I love how it isn't written off as Oh I know I'll be able to love you. She has doubts. So many of them. I think just the idea that she could wake up and lose her ability to love him is unbearable to her. What if she can't love with the same intensity? Not feel what she feels right this moment? What if she looks into his eyes after the surgery and feels like she would rather forget him than die? Haein knows how much Hyunwoo's put into ensuring she lives yet she rather experience that love than throw it all away on a chance.

But Hyunwoo is defiant. He's not taking no for an answer. He can't anymore. He hates that she won't listen to him. That she's having doubts. Isn't it common sense? He'll be there. They'll figure it all out. She'll be alive. It's such an interesting and logical perspective to have 'as long as there is life anything can happen.' because once she's dead that's it.. it's the end. But if she's alive, the possibility and capacity of love still exists.

Even if you don't fall for me, ignore me or dislike me I'll still be there for you through it all. Why doesn't this kid understand that's exactly why she can't agree to it. She can't bear the possibility of that happening.

I think Hyunwoo shines when he says 'I made a promise. That I'd be by your side even if there's a debt or something more. So don't worry and just stay here please.'

Notice how this is directly in contrast with what she says right at the beginning 'We make promises in good times thinking they'll never end.' But Hyunwoo remembers and he's willing to be there through it all.

Don't pray about dying. I'm terrified it'll come true.

She's praying to die. Let that sink in. For a man who believes enough to pray for her to be saved, when her death is so imminent - almost a fact, this is indeed terrifying. I feel his fear and pain. Good grief, she's praying to die when there's such a big possibility of exactly that. She accepted her fate and he's willing to fight tooth and nail to change it. It's a tesimtiment to how many times he's spent thinking of a life without her. He's convincing her to rid of their memories. I know he's aware of exactly what it means. The chances they're taking but the idea of not seeing her again is so unbearable for him.

I love Haein's strong mindedness. She didn't budge. Her last look for me read 'I get it. I get it all but just no. I can't lose you. Please don't cry and make this harder. Don't make me want to live.' and with that she hardens her heart as she steps away and takes her hand from him.

While this man, ouff this man. Can we take a moment to appreciate the sheer desperation on his face. After she signals no again he's so helpless. 'Please, please see me and live, if only for me. I cannot fathom this earth without you.' Seriously, we all need to take a minute to appreciate his desperation throughout this scene. The woman that he loves, his ideal women won't agree to stay alive because she loves him too deeply. Just writing this hurts me.

It's interesting this scene works because by now we know where they both stand in this episode. For me, the reason this scene shines is the vulnerability - the two of them having this extremely open and confrontational confession. When scenes like this are executed and written well it creates everlasting frames like this.

Also they both suck at praying. If you're praying just pray to keep her alive and keep her memories intact. Why are they picking and choosing? It's not like God has a limit to what he can do. Truly nonsense prayers from both of them. 🙃

Gif credits: @jcpostsobsessions and @seawherethesunsets

[cruzerforce4256]

I'm feeling like writing lately, so I've thought of a scenario where the reader, who always jokes about their friends, will court Cale to the ends of the earth if ever they get isekaid into TCF (lol, this is me to my friends; they are really concerned at this point). Then some god heard this and was like, Alright, bet. They send the reader to the TCF world as a personal maid of Cale for fun and tell them that they need to make Cale fall in love with them before the story ends (just part 1), or else they will go back to their world with all of their memories about Cale gone. 

So in order for Cale to feel a bit relaxed around them, they told him that they were from a different world and read 'The Birth of the Hero' instead of the TOTCF since we all know Cale will faint if that really happens. They also told him that they felt like he was the same as them because of the changed attitude he was showing recently, and with him going out to feed the dying tree basically confirms it.

Their conversation be like:

Cale: I'll just let you know that I don't plan on getting involved with the protagonists and the war.

Reader whose laughing their ass off inside: Great me too! I'll just stay as your personal maid since I don't want to get involved with all the drama. ♪⁠～⁠(⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠)

So Cale became a bit more relaxed than before after knowing that they are on the same page then the reader started throwing their cringy pick up lines to him.

Reader: Young master, are you a bank loan?

Cale: *ignores them and continues relaxing on the couch while reading a book and petting the sleeping children*

Reader: Because you have my interest, and I'm willing to pay the high cost.🥰🥰

Cale looked at them with eyebrows furrowed: I'm literally the one paying you to work how are you going to give me a large sum of money

Reader: *Gasps exaggeratedly" does that mean you have an interest in me.

Cale: Go take your meds.

Later on, the reader confesses to cale that they love him, but although Cale is feeling something towards the reader at that time, he is not sure what it is. He isn't really sure if they just see them as a close family who they trust the most or something more than that, and if it is, he is scared of the possibility that something might happen to them, especially with the war going on. So he rejected the reader.

The reader accepted it and told him that he didn't need to reciprocate their feelings, but that doesn't mean that they will give up. They always give him flowers when he wakes up, always stand by his side, supporting him, and, of course, always throw pick-up lines at him. And slowly but surely, cale became clear with his feelings for them, but he still didn't want to confess because of the fear that something might happen.

As his feelings grew clearer and deeper, the reader's time became shorter and shorter. Though they truly love him and want to be with him, they don't want to force him to love them. When they only had a few months left, they started distancing themselves bit by bit from everyone, especially Cale. 

But Cale is observant; he notices how the reader doesn't throw cringy pick-up lines as much as before, which he didn't know was a blessing or not since their pick-up lines were cringy most of the time. On the other hand, it makes his heart flutter. He also notices how they don't really play much with the kids anymore, no longer cheering the wolf kids on the sidelines while they train as much as before, no longer going out with Rosalyn, Mary, and Hannah as much as before, and no longer teasing Beacrox with Choi Han whenever you are together as much as before (I just want to add the last part, lol).

He is suspicious, and Bud, who just wanted to visit, sees him always looking at you and teases him, saying, "You know, if you don't confess now someone might take them.". 

He just gives Bud an irritated look, but deep inside he is panicking. Is this why you don't interact with everyone as much as before? Who is it? Is he worthy of you? Do you know him well enough?

So he confronts the reader if they like someone else in which they just laugh at him, telling him that he is the only one they like. But when he asked about how the reader doesn't interact with them as much as before, they told him that it was nothing and they were always feeling tired lately.

So Cale forced them to have a paid leave. While they were on that he made a plan to confess to the reader after everything is clear. No more possible threats to their lives and just them slacking off with the whole calefam.

When the day finally arrives he can't sleep and just waits for the reader to come to his room to wake him up. As he waits, he reviewed the plan in his mind again and again to make sure that everything goes right and to lessen his nervousness. He is going to take them out in the afternoon in disguise of checking the improvements of the harris village and when the night comes, he will invite them to eat dinner and confess.

Time flies, and it is finally afternoon. He stares at the door, waiting for the reader to come in with a loud noise to wake him up. But hours came, and you were still not there. Feeling restless, he called for Ron. When the scary butler is finally by his side, he asks where the reader are, but Ron also doesn't know. His heart started to pound. He feels like something is wrong.

He got up off his bed and walked straight to the reader's room. As he opens the door he notices a paper sitting on the top of the bed. His heart pounded more heavily as he walks towards the bed and grabs the paper.

He notices that it is a letter from the reader dedicated to him. In this letter, they told him the whole truth about how the book they read is actually the trash of the count's family not the birth of the hero and how they were a huge fan of him. They also state how they love him so much and they always tell their friends about it which led to a god hearing it and sending them into this world.

After reading it, he immediately ordered everyone to look for the reader and for saint jack and cage to come. The letter didn't state where the reader is but knowing that a god put them in this world means that the god had a deal with them.

His mind goes through a lot of questions. Where are they? Which god did they make the deal with? What is the deal that they made with that god? Are they safe? What are the conditions of the deal? Everybody is restless looking for them everywhere

Saint jack and cage finally came with Hannah. Though confused, Cage told him what the God of Death said to her before she came to the villa, GoD said that some god wants to talk to him and to not worry because GoD will be there to facilitate the meeting.

Hearing this, cale immediately told them what's going on while the kids stayed closer to him in order to help calm him down.

Knowing that the god that wants to meet him is the same god that you made a deal with, he agreed to talk to them. When he told the others about this, he suddenly fainted.

Waking up, he saw the GoD looking at him apologetically for making him suddenly faint. Besides GoD is the god that you made a deal with.

Although he is irritated with the GoD for making him suddenly faint he is more worried about you. He immediately asked where you are and what the deal is about.

And though that god wanted to tease him a bit, he decided against it after seeing his glare. The god just smirked and told him all about the deal.

Hearing this made cale devastated. He is too late. If only he confessed sooner instead of making them wait..........If only he became more clear with his feelings sooner...... If only he accepted your feelings the moment they confessed to him.........

There's a lot of what if in his mind.

Seeing him devastated and a lot of regret the god also offers him the same deal he gave to the reader. This time he is the one who will go to the reader's world and is given with the same amount of time that they spend in his. His condition is that needs to make them fall for him even without all their memories about him. If he manages to do so then they get to go back to his world with the reader who have all their their memories back but if he doesn't then he goes back alone and the reader will forever forget everything about him. Though the god wanted to add more consequences if cale isn't successful, he decided not to since he doesn't want to anger the God of Death more for hurting GoD's beloved child.

Cale immediately accepted the deal

This time he is the one who will come to them. This time is the one who will make them fall for him

Note: i'm not really good at writing so sorry for the errors 😅😅 but i still want to share to you guys this scenario that i've just imagine and damn imagining it is 100000% easier than writing it😭😭😭

[m0nsterqzzz]

Valentine

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pairing: Clarisse La Rue x reader

summary: Clarisse blinked and suddenly she had you as a Valentine

content: clarisse being a love sick foul. thats it. thats the entire fic

a/n: recently started listening to Laufey and I have like TEN different fic ideas nowwwww ahhhhhh. this is really short but idk i kinda like it. idkkkkkkk. ahhhh. anyway, love yall.

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Clarisse has a problem.

It's not like a, "I just killed some Dionysus kid with my spear" type problem, but it's a problem nonetheless.

When she was a kid, the daughter of Ares hated affection. Even when her own mother would try and hug her, it just made her feel crowded and trapped. She'd avoid it at any costs, which is why now in her teenage years at camp half blood, she's never had a relationship.

That's usually been okay. She's always preferred glory or love. But right now, as she clings to you like a koala bear while you read your book in her bed, she finds herself questioning it.

This is the problem.

She’s never craved affection the way she does with you. When you hug her or wrap your arms around her waist from behind, she doesn’t feel trapped or crowded the way she does with everyone else. She feels safe and warm. 

Something is wrong with her.

It only dawned on her when she was sitting on the beach with you watching the sunset. The way the golden light looked on your face, it was shining off your already beautiful eyes, and you looked mythical as you turned to cast her a heart stopping smile.

Clarisse La Rue, scary daughter of the god of war, is in love with you.

She panicked, avoiding you for a whole week before she finally came to peace with her feelings. That doesn’t mean she told you, if some of you were expecting that. She loves what friendship you guys have, and she would never want to ruin it by doing something as stupid as telling you about her emotions.

It didn’t help that you were so affectionate though.

So after months of stopping cuddles with the excuse, “It’s getting warm.” or explaining her crimson face after time you congratulate her sword fighting wins with a kiss on the cheek as a reaction to the heat outside, she finally went to the one person she knew could help.

Silena Beauregard, daughter of Aphrodite and expert when it comes to crushes.

“Ask ‘em out.” Was what the girl said, casually brushing out her hair as Clarisse groans into her pillow.

“You don’t get it.” The daughter of Ares says with much annoyance, rolling over on her friend's bed as she holds a stuffed animal close to her chest. “I can’t. I try, but every time I build up the courage to say it, the words get stuck in my throat and I end up looking like a total idiot! I hate it!”

Silena chuckles, joining Clarisse on the bed as she shrugs. “Then die alone I guess. I really don’t know how to help you other than that.”

So….Silena was no help if you didn’t know.

Clarisse has just about given up at this point, instead deciding to just keep dying internally while still being friends with you.

She lasted with this just about four minutes.

“You look pretty.” You had casually said to her while putting on your golden helmet for capture the flag, folding up the sleeves on the flannel you’re wearing- one of hers- as Annabeth shouts out orders.

She’s caught off guard, almost dropping her spear and tripping over a rock. She swallows thickly before she says, “You…you look pretty too.” Silena eyes her with a teasing look from across the clearing, making kissy faces with a smug look. Clarisse doesn’t even know if she gave you a worthy compliment, stuttering out a quick goodbye before she makes her way into the forest to avoid anyone seeing her blush.

After that she manages to keep to herself for about an hour.

She’s running through the forest looking for you after hearing a scream that sounds way too similar to yours, ready to rip the head off of anyone who dared to mess with you. She finds you casually lounging on a rock near the beach, sword discarded on the sand as you talk joyfully with some younger campers. The sound of her erratic breathing alerts you, so you turn around, calming down when you notice it’s her.

“Hey Clar. What’s wro-” You don’t even get to finish before she’s picking you up in her arms, burying her head in the crook of her neck as she grips you as tight as she can without hurting you. You’re confused though you don’t question it, just running a hand through her curly hair as she shakes and slowly calms down.

It’s surprising really. Clarisse hates being affectionate in front of other people, scared of being seen as weak or too emotional. Though right now, she doesn’t seem to care as all the younger campers stare and giggle, just enjoying your embrace as forces down the fear she felt when she thought you were in trouble.

She realizes now that she can’t just keep this secret. She can’t go another minute without you knowing how much she loves you- that she would go to the ends of the earth or fight as many monsters as she needs to just to see your smile.

So for the first time in her life she skips capture the flag, joining the Apollo kids at the arts and crafts table and glaring at anyone who dares to question why she’s here and not out there fighting.

Silena joins her after a while, spending an hour making bracelets and teasing her friend while the daughter of Ares makes the cheesiest sign anyone has ever seen.

You’re lying in bed with a book when someone knocks on your cabin door. You frown in confusion, sure it’s one of your siblings and wondering why they don’t just open it. You call out for the person to come in, but when nothing happens and another knock comes through, you groan and get up to answer it.

The annoyance is immediately gone when you open it to see your best friend, though the confusion is still there as you take in her appearance.

The glittery, pink and red sign that is covered in hearts with the words, “I’ve been struck by cupids arrow. Will you be my Valentine?” is a harsh juxtaposition to the dark clothing on her body and shiny, sharp spear hooked to her back. It’s adorable, really. The way her face scrunches up as she slowly and slowly spirals deeper into the thought that this is the cringiest thing ever done in the history of the planet, the way she shifts from foot to foot as you stare in awe, the way she nervously smiles your way.

“If you hate it, it was Silena’s idea.” She mumbles when you don’t speak for a few seconds.

“And if I love it?” Your words surprise her, but she soon recovers and responds as a grin takes over her face, “Then it was all my idea.”

You nod, gently plucking the flower out of her hand then grabbing the sign so that her hands are free to hug you. She easily does, wrapping her arms securely around your waist as she pulls you as close as possible.

“I blinked and suddenly I had a valentine.” She whispers before leaving a chaste kiss on your forehead.

Clarisse has a problem.

But you are the perfect solution.

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[notmorbid]

yellowjackets, season 1 [pt. 1].

dialogue prompts from the first season of showtime's yellowjackets.

i still get chills just thinking about it.

i'm going to talk to you like an adult. is that okay with you?

i don't talk to reporters. but i'm guessing you already know that.

shouldn't we say a prayer first?

remember, anger can be good.

this already does not feel like a meaningful conversation.

just admit you did it on purpose.

you're the best friend i've ever had.

it's a good luck charm. now nothing can touch you.

i took the red cross babysitter training class. twice.

does that usually work for you?

you are so mad and yet so wrong.

i take it you know why i'm here.

i have a lot of theories, but do you want to go first?

talk about someone who didn't want to be found.

i come bearing gifts. you're welcome.

are you making fun of me?

for the record, i was trying to save you.

look at me and tell me what you mean.

i guess i didn't make much of an impression.

you're not out of the woods yet.

what about you? any secrets big enough to crash a goddamn plane?

dying is nothing to be afraid of.

we think we know what we're doing, but really, we have no clue.

if you want me busting kneecaps, it's gonna cost extra.

you should've brought your rifle.

are you sure this is a good idea? what if the neighbors see?

you can learn so much about a person by going through their personal refuse.

you're not that much of a bitch.

i didn't come here to fight crime.

home? yeah, what's that?

you two are the worst for each other.

it's so easy for you to judge others with your perfect life, right?

what's the point in having connections if you can't use them?

you're beautiful when you're honest.

do you know how weird you are?

uncomfortable silences make me uncomfortable.

i don't know about you, but i'm really scared.

i just need my best friend right now.

the worst is behind us, okay?

i know you're not asleep.

i'm different from what people expect, and it scares them.

the police are coming. we have to go. do you understand?

i think bad things happened here.

you said you wanted to make up for your misspent youth.

i know when you look at me, you don't see someone you should be afraid of.

if i win, you have to tell me something personal about yourself.

r.i.p., sorry. it was worth it.

i'm like a well you whisper your secrets into.

i've heard the official story.

you had to know i was like, totally in love with you. right?

it doesn't matter how shitty they are. it still fucks you up when they're gone.

i think the ghost decided it was time to get some sleep.

you've never been good at being anything other than yourself. it's your superpower.

i don't know how much longer i can keep doing this.

you taught me how to be like this, you know.

you make people feel like things are gonna be okay just by showing up.

if we can laugh at all this, maybe it'll help us feel better.

you know, you never get the time back. none of us will.

are you seriously doing magic right now?

when did you fall out of love with ____?

you're so not fine. do you think i can't see that?

you poisoned me. why?

have you ever heard of mutually ensured destruction?

i was just going to keep you company, if that's okay.

you won't tell anyone, will you?

[thel0v3hashira143]

❝𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐔𝐏!❞

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ eren armin jean reiner n levi ☆ various aot men as dads!!

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ fem!reader (referred to as mom or mommy), black aligned reader but as per usual anyone can read

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ notes: y'all thought i was playin when i said had 2 other pieces huh...well anyways heres my 2nd official revamp entry!! erm i hope u guys like it cause i lost like 3 hours of sleep over this. (its bhm you have to like it or else) stay hot!! 🎀🎀

eren yaeger 🌸

2 words. girl dad.

this man was born to have an army of girls surrounding him at all times (but he's not necessarily complaining in this case)

you two's daughter is a very passionate and outgoing child and eren totally embraces that

he's deeply involved in his child's life, sharing stories about the world and instilling a sense of curiosity (aka giving her bad ideas)

he was an outside and play in the mud kid so he is all for letting her have free range to express/play how she wants

and he's a sucker for your little girl so he usually gets roped into her shenanigans

when you come home and the house is quiet you know those two are up to something nefarious 😭😭

"eren, why the hell does my kitchen look a hot ass mess?"

"she wanted to make a cake, babe!"

i can see your daughter playing sports (soccer specifically) and he is 1000 the dad that yells at the ref.

"did you see that [name]!? that brat just pushed her over l, why didn't that bastard call it!?"

will get down and dirty for his girls. no matter what

emphasizes the importance of freedom, encouraging your to pursue her dreams no matter what.

actually the most supportive ever??

your daughter wants to play 10 different sports? he's buying all the equipment no matter the cost. she wants to be the next picasso? he'll buy her brand new art supplies and be her model.

just hes so just....*sigh*

armin arlert 🌸

my man, loml, my day 1, my soul mate my everything (he was my first anime crush i will be projecting on this one argue wit ur mama)

he is definitely a gentle parent to your little boy who's just a shy little dude

armin knows what it feels like to be that shy and quiet kid so he's very patient and understanding

him and your son are practically carbon copies of eachother minus his curly hair (which he got from you) but you think its adorable

speaking of hair HE TOTALLY LEARNS TO BRAID/DO TWIST

he knew taking care of your son's hair was going to require extra effort because of his texture but he doesnt care and learns anyway (sob sob)

him and your son are attached at the hip and wherever one goes you typically find the other.

they spend many quiet moments together and obviously armin reads him multiple stories before bed.

i can totally see y'alls son being an artist/artistically gifted

you can find him and armin sprawled out on the floor with paper and various art supplies as armin nods along to the nonsense coming out of your son's mouth

"mhmm, oh i see! i think that color looks great there too."

meanwhile you're in the corner just sobbing and dying of cuteness in your house

much like eren he teaches his son the values of curiosity and freedom, even if his son is a little more reserved

he wouldn't ever force him into doing anything he doesn't want to, but encourages him in the small things

i also fantasize about living by a beach with armin so ik he takes y'all to the beach at least 3 times a month.

every single time he goes he carries his son on his hip as the explore the beach in search of shells and other treasures to take home.

"you like this one buddy? why don't we give it to mommy as a nice present, yeah?"

i can't write too long or imma short circuit but i will be expanding on this because i love armin so much

he's so neat :]

jean kirstein 🌸

jean, as a dad, is like a mix of cornyness and seriousness

on the one hand i can totally see him making the stupidest dad jokes while you and your daughter are just like 🧍🏽‍♀️🧍🏽‍♀️

like the irl personification of "im not a regular mom, i'm a cool mom"

but on the other hand he's just like my dad where he can turn anything into a life lesson and you have to sit while he scolds your daughter for at least 30 minutes

it's all out of love tho

he thrives in a lighthearted atmosphere at home and spending time together is a huge thing for him

he is a bbq/camping dad and no i will not take criticism on this

jean takes pride in teaching life skills, from fixing things around the house to imparting practical wisdom (even though it isn't always wanted 💀)

your daughter will likely be well-prepared for the challenges of the world. he likes to think he's the reason she has a good head on her shoulders.

speaking of which, your daughter is very much sassy...(jean swears she gets if from you but we know the truth)

shes the first one to have something smart to say and its gotten her in trouble quite a few times with jean...but theyre besties.

balances tough love with genuine affection, cause he definitely mellowed out as he got older but knows when to put his foot down (unlike eren. what who said that??)

your daughter knows she can always count on him. ♡

reiner braun 🌸

AURGGYGHH I LOVE THIS MAN

anyways as soon as your son was born he only knew one word.

panic.

specifically timeskip!reiner. i can only imagine him as a worrier and a helicopter parent up until your son is like 6-7.

"rei, if you don't let that boy go play with the other kids!" "[name], i read that a slide has 82 times more germs than a kitchen sink. i won't let him be exposed to that."

it's just like *sigh* but thanks to you he eventually mellows out.

y'alls son is a really kind boy. like stupidly nice. damn near a pushover. (but we love him)

while you're ready to fight the other parents (or kids) who hurt your baby, reiner is actually more gentle in his approach

he's clearly a big strong guy but he's very gentle in his approach when it comes to seeing his son cry or just in general

reiner, as a dad, is the protector. he's vigilant and caring, instilling a strong sense of security in your home

your son feels safe knowing reiner is there to shield him from any harm.

seeing talk all soft to y'alls son makes you go sksmwkwmwka he's so man...

"hey, me and mom love you very much. you got that bud?"

balances strength with gentleness. offering a listening ear and encouraging open communication.

he wants his son to know he'll always be there for him since he never really had a father growing up

safe to say your son grows up feeling understood and supported by both parents ♡

levi ackerman 🌸

for sure the strictest dad on this list.

from the moment your daughter was born he had her on a schedule that was planned meticulously.

like hour by hour he knows what's going on and you're just there like🧍🏽‍♀️

"i read a consistent schedule helps with her brain development." "...."

as she gets older he calms down a little. but like only the smallest little bit.

however! levi, although strict, is a fiercely devoted dad

this just came to me but he's the dad where if you our your daughter syas you like a snack one time he'll buy a lifetime supply until you tell him otherwise

despite his stoic exterior, Levi has a soft spot for his child's well-being and takes pride in their achievements, no matter how small

your daughter is a dancer. fight me.

even if you can't make it, you see him in the audience at every recital with a soft smile.

"you did great. yes, i recorded all of it for mom to see too."

ngl he is very rule oriented but 9/10 he bends begrudgingly for your daughter (she looks like you, so he can never say no.)

he values discipline and order but also knows the importance of showing love and appreciation.

like reiner he didn't grow up with the best father figure (if one at all) or anyone to really give him confidence growing up.

your daughter never doubts that daddy loves her and thinks she's the best ♡

he also is so skilled at doing hair?? probably better than armin.

ponytail, bun, twist, braids, you name it, he can do it. (has put you shame on multiple occasions)

teaches self-reliance and responsibility, ensuring his child is well-prepared for life's challenges.

expects excellence but also provides unwavering support

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 2nd piece done!! why was i fighting for my life during jean and reiner's....but i actually really wanna expand on dad!armin and dad!levi so maybe i'll give all the kids names sometime in the future. i tried to finish this is my ap chem class and my teacher almost took my phone 💀💀 but expect more soon cause i am on a roll! 🏃🏽‍♀️💨

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐲 ♡

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𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚!

𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙡0𝙫3𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙖143 2024