#without being an insensitive prick that is

[raetreaderarts]

Oh yeah. I am down BAD bad. Remedios is serenading the missus with lizard knowledge she researched specifically to impress her.

Also I know Remedios’s anatomy looks kinda wack but honestly as long as Candide looks alright that’s all that matters to me. Gotta do my queen justice after all 💪

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Omega!Gaz x Omega!reader x Alpha!Price….

Gaz has a pussy here, you’ve been warned. Either male omegas have cunts or he’s trans, pick whichever you prefer because I sure as hell don’t explain shit.

Omega-Omega couples were rare… but not unheard of.

You and Gaz were one of the rare examples of a pair of mated Omegas, and while it had been hard in the beginning (not for the reasons anyone assumes. Heats were, if anything, easier with another Omega) people around you would cite you two as an example of a perfect couple- just two people who loved each other more than anything else.

Gaz had worked hard to get where he was- to prove he could serve and hold his own right alongside betas and alphas without being a liability. It’d been hard, the military wasn’t exactly always the most progressive place, but Price had welcomed him into the 141 with open arms, treating him like he would any other soldier.

He’d felt accepted in the 141- at home, and after a while, he’d eventually decided to introduce you to his team, figuring you had a right to know the men who kept him from coming back home in a box and trusting Price to be accepting and respectful of your relationship (and also to keep the less socially-adept members of the team from making any off comments)

And it had been great- Price stood up to shake your hand as Gaz introduced you two, treating you like any other even when you fumbled the greeting and extended the wrong hand. He’d sat across from you and Gaz in the circular booth the group had claimed in the pub, giving the two of you kind smiles as he asked occasional, respectful questions about your relationship.

The night had nearly gone sideways when Soap had started to ask “So- like, the two of you, how does that work for your, you know.. hea-“ only to be immediately shut down with a stern glare from Price and the man Gaz had introduced as “Ghost” smacking him on the back of the neck.

You and Gaz had never considered opening up your relationship to an Alpha or beta. One too many insensitive comments (not unlike Soap’s, though at least his didn’t come from a place of malicious intent) and Alphas taking the first chance to trample over your relationship just because you were omegas has put you both off the subject as a whole.

But, Price’s protective demeanor, the scent of whiskey, smoke, and something distinctly him hanging off of him, the way he’d clap Gaz on the back or shoulder, treating him just like he would Ghost or Soap, the small, U-shaped smile he seemed to only give the two of you- and that was all it took for your resolve to crumble.

And Price? Well, he was just happy to have the two prettiest, sweetest omegas he’d ever met dropped right onto his lap.

All this time, he’d been keeping his emotions and desires under wraps- resisting the urge to shove his pretty new sergeant down on his cock until he choked and gagged, painstakingly applying the sticky, annoying little white patches over his scent glands so Gaz wouldn’t find his scent overwhelming or obnoxious and wouldn’t be able to tell when his scent got heavier after staring at Gaz’s ass a moment too long.

And then to find out his sergeant was mated? To another omega?? Oh the things that ran through his mind. The two of you would think him derange if you’d known the things he wanted to do to the two of you.

And of course, when he meets you, he’s only down worse. Seeing his sergeant and his precious girl he’d talk about so fondly- and he could blame him, you were a sight. A pretty girl like you for a pretty boy like Kyle, it was fitting.

That entire night at the pub, he’d been chanting don’t be a prick don't be a prick don't be a prick in his head like a mantra, desperately trying to stay professional and respectful. He was digging his nails into his thigh so hard trying to ground himself that he was half concerned he’d break skin.

Only to then, afterwards, find out that you two were pinning over him almost as bad as he was for you? To find out that the pair of omegas he wanted nothing more than to absolutely destroy were practically offering themselves up on a silver platter?

Oh, he was ecstatic.

When Price first gets the two of you into bed, he’s mean, sitting back in his chair and lighting one of his fancier cigars and smirking as he makes you two scissor and grind your clits together for him- not letting the two of you stop until he’s done with his cigar and both of you have cum.

He’s content to sit back and enjoy the sight, watching you cry and writhe under Gaz in over stimulation from already coming as he holds you tight and grinds his clit against yours desperately, panting out pleading, breathy apologies over not being able to cum faster.

Price likes to have the two of you kiss too- especially sweet kisses shared between the two of you that devolve into desperate, needy make out sessions all under Price’s watchful eyes.

He just likes to watch his omegas love on eachother- giving the two of you occasional instructions to give her a hickey for me, Gaz. Mark her all up for us. Love, how about you help our boy get out of those jeans? Good girl, good job.

He’ll give you or Gaz permission to hump the other’s thigh, only to take it away right as you're about to cum and laugh at the desperate, strangled plea he gets in return.

He’ll pull the two of you to your knees in front of him, having the two of you make out around and worship his cock. One of you will take him as far as you can in your mouth, while the other sucks and kisses at what doesn’t fit and at his heavy balls.

And fucking the two of you is an ordeal with how needy you can be- Price usually ends up with three fingers buried in one of your cunts and his cock stuffed deep in the other, trying desperately to keep pace and keep it together even with two whining, needy omegas under him.

[thewalrusespublicist]

Two of Us Play: Thoughts or 'This Could Mean Nothing: The Play'

I saw Two of Us and I have thoughts. and feelings. Frustrated feelings.

What I liked: the mental health angle, the details, the research, the bones of the story and the acting for the most part (good actors, poor direction basically).

What I didn't like: First off the script needs work. At the minute it plays more as a spot the reference rather than one coherent story. This doesen't feel like convo between friends but a recap of Beatles lore with no train of thought that gets satisfyingly resolved and whilst hitting off the movie beats rather than building to them. The pay off feels less like a cathartic journey and more 'cool it's Mclennon I guess..'. Next the chemistry is off, the two leads don't feel like platonic soulmates/best frenemies and they don't fly off of each other as John and Paul did. Instead the energy is super low, even in their heightened fight scenes it doesn't feel like two people duking it out. There's no screaming and shouting, it's like two old but never that close friends going from awkward to semi awkward and back again repeatedly without ever hitting any moments of sizzling connection. This I think is partially to do with the 'nice Paul' characterization, which please lord can it end! Let our beloved alpha bitch be beloved and alpha bitchy, it's good for his skin AND MORE REAL.

I think the chemistry/energy problem is linked though to the main problem and the elephant in the room: the 'latent' homosexuality. Latent is probably the best word for it, but that's only because of the play's fear of its own implications. To be clear, with a slightly more daring director unafraid of the material, the latent would be BLATANT. The dialogue is BLATANT. John's wordplay is loaded with suggestion: 'best fuck you've ever had', 'you should have married me' and there's a closeness when they are singing on the piano which was 👀👀. The 'I love Paul' badge is also there with a 'lucky Paul' comment that COULD have built to a potentially interesting character moment. But they just fly over these bits like they haven't been said. The candlelight dinner as well that John puts on for Paul is by its nature loaded, as is John offhandedly calling him 'my love' when fiddling with the stereo during that scene.It's so casual that it feels like an accidental slip on John's part. But nothing is made of this, no pause, shift in the air, comments, nothing. This was the worst with the KISS which was initiated by John and yes, way way way too long for it to mean nothing and the Epstein jokes are completely omitted. Its a wild moment, but the play can't seem to handle what they've just laid down so just ... skates past it. Its like HAHA WEIRD RIGHT THEY JUST KISSED ANYWAY ROOF SCENE.

But the implications also aren't consistent as the whole thing is too attached to the 'Paul is a jilted victim' angle. It's Paul who is jealous of Yoko, but save a line about being surprised about Linda, John seems neutral (weird considering its JOHN making the overtures and was IRL not Linda's biggest fan). The ending is the strangest for this. They have the SNL thing like in the movie but it's weirder as Paul is CRYING. OBVIOUSLY CRYING. CAN HEAR AUDIBLY FROM A DISTANCE CRYING. The whiplash of John throwing down these implications and suggestions to just ... nonchalantly giving a hand grip goodbye and ignoring Paul's tears after going on this whole journey together is WEIRD and makes him look like a user and a selfish, insensitive prick. Like bestie your bestie is crying you can call Yoko back??? Also the end is meant to be a love you to both each other and their wives but Paul's is clearly to mostly John and John's feels mostly to Yoko. It's not a good look on John and its not a good look on his relationship with Yoko (yh John could free himself from the prison he's made for himself and was about to but the darn Yoko pull is just too strong guys). Again this would be sort of sad but fine if it was Paul making the overtures or there were no overtures but it isn't and there are! John is both the mooning would be romancer and the unavailable ex. Once again nuance and coherency (as well as Paul and Linda!) are sacrificed for the traditional John and Yoko angle. Wholeheartedly, it feels like there has been a layer of implication added onto the script, a layer which means that the original elements of the script would need to change to work but they haven't done it so you have this Frankenstein's monster of a traditionalist narrative fused with loaded suggestion.

So yeah, I think the whole thing had a lot of potential as a play but the script needs an overhaul, the actors need better chemistry and if you are going to go there, for gods sake GO THERE.

[glossysoap]

ready to comply v - изоляция

изоляция or isolation is defined as;

the process or fact of isolating or being isolated.

tags/warnings: pov change from 141 to reader, phantom limb/pain, talk of human waste (sorry), uncleanliness, torture, hallucinations, fake death.

prev chapters here!

word count: 2,876

🏷️: @viylikescats @warenai @briacreations96 @fullmoon-94 @breadboyye @kiroshang @zvdvdlvr @lunitalloronaa @itzzjxlyn @lonely-ofc @m0rganit3 @badbishsblog @wolfyland07 @angelsdemonsmonsters @unkn0wnd3ad @itstokyo-cos @c1rice @venusianlustt @bugonawall @wakusbonkus @blackrose4242 @blackgaladriel @lilpothoscuttings @thvxr @tapioca-marzipan @undercover-smutlover @nickangel13 @luvmeijii @atjamesbbarnes @h-leigh @writingmybeloved @chloeforde @divine--serenity @hunterbunter3000 (if ur name is striked out, it means tumblr wouldn’t let me tag, sorry)

When you assumed that the 141 wouldn’t send out a search and rescue team for you, you were right.

When you assumed that by the time the 141 discovered you were missing, that it would be too late, you were right.

When you assumed that they would be too preoccupied with the next mission to look for you, you were right.

That much was proved to be true when Shepherd uttered the words, “You know I can’t let you do that, John.” The General couldn’t send out his best soldiers to go searching for some medic that was probably already long dead by now. The General wouldn’t.

John chuckled without humor, shaking his head in disbelief.

“So what then, General? Because they were the only surgeon I trusted with my team!” He shouted, nostrils flaring.

Shepherd chose his next words carefully, still paranoid after being ambushed in that conference room and almost assaulted by the Lieutenant.

“So, we’ll hope for the best and prepare for the worst. We will have a list of potential.. replacements as soon as possible.”

John’s throat tightened and tears pricked his eyes but he didn’t let them fall. No, not in front of the emotionless, insensitive General, who John knew never liked you that much anyway.

So the Captain pressed his lips together and nodded to himself, before walking out of the conference room. He walked the halls of his base with a clenched jaw and a feeling of barbed wire wrapped around his throat.

Soon, you were also right about being replaced.

Corporate quickly pulled your name from any employee record or planners. Your name was pulled from payroll and all of your previous medical cases were sealed forever. Any of your current patients were transferred to a different surgeon, along with the medical plan you had created. Your room was even cleared of all of your belongings and put into a box - down to every last post-it note, picture frame and candle. The gold plaque on your door that had your name printed on it was even scraped from the wood, leaving it blank for someone else’s name.

Worst of all, was when the interviews began. Way too soon in the Task Force’s opinion. Laswell, Price and Shepherd had formed a panel including themselves and your previous medical assistants in order to find the best replacement. Price tried to ignore the sullen looks on your assistants’ faces when they were trying to find a new surgeon. You were their friend and mentor, after all.

Once they had finally found someone suitable for the job, the new surgeon moved into your medbay the medbay. They put their grubby little hands on it. They rearranged all of the medical supplies into a different order, one that made no sense compared to the way you organized things. Even the way they triaged patients irked the Task Force, it was all way too busy and chaotic instead of the coordinated way you triaged.

When it came to being treated by your replacement, 141’s hackles rose. They would glare daggers at the surgeon, tempted to refuse treatment from anyone other than you. No one could administer injections like you could. No one could insert an IV like you, they would always end up losing a vein or leaving the patients arm with bruises. Your replacement took too long to come up with diagnoses, leaving the team out of commission for longer than necessary.

At every single turn, the entire Task Force knew that if you were here, you would’ve put that “replacement” to absolute shame.

But when you assumed that the team would be better off with you gone? You couldn’t have been more wrong.

The atmosphere at the base shifted immediately after you were announced missing in action, and presumably killed in action.

It was an unspoken grief that neither Simon or Johnny could swallow, no matter how hard they tried. Where the warmth usually resided in their chest, a piercing ache replaced it, leaving a hole where you should be. The hole in their chest was always there, digging deeper and deeper with each passing minute without you.

Their throats went raw and tight every time they found themselves looking for you, on pure instinct. They would search for you wearing your scrubs in the medbay, only to find your replacement standing in your place. They would listen for the pitter-patter of your feet as they worked out in the gym, so accustomed to you talking to them while they lifted weights. They would listen and listen, expecting you to pop up next to them — only for you to never appear. They would find themselves walking by your door and slowing to a stop. They would raise a fist to knock on your door, only to stop an inch from the door when they remembered that you weren’t there.

Everywhere they looked, they were reminded of you. They saw pieces of you everywhere on base, pieces you left behind.

(….)

For days or weeks on end, you were locked in that room as you slept on that uncomfortable cot.

Days passed, you weren’t sure how many, but you knew they were passing nonetheless. It could’ve been two days, five days, or even weeks. You had no idea.

You were kept in that room with no water. Your stomach was constantly growling and aching for even a sleeve of crackers. Your throat was dry and sore, even swallowing hurt because of how thirsty you were.

The only nourishment you were granted was two protein shakes a day, tossed into your cell first thing in the morning. They tasted of protein powder and synthetic nutrients, making you cringe whenever you sipped it - though you did savor it as the only ‘food’ you ever got.

The shakes were the only calories you could rely on so that you didn’t starve to death in that cell.

The effects of dehydration had already begun taking it’s toll on you. Your head was constantly pounding and you found yourself pressing against your eye socket to try and relieve the migraine. You had already emptied your stomach multiple times throughout your imprisonment because of the nausea, the smell wafting from the buckets only making it worse. You were only thankful that you hadn’t started experiencing hallucinations.

You had no way of knowing how much time had passed because there were no clocks or windows. There was no sunlight to illuminate the room or tell you when the sun was rising or setting. There was no dusk or dawn. Just a cold, grey concrete room.

The lighting panels on the ceiling was the only thing providing light to the dreary room. The light never turned off, not even for an hour. You were thoroughly convinced that your captors knew you might use the light schedule to measure time, so they just kept the lights on. Every minute of every day. Burning your corneas and making it impossible to get any rest.

The room was filled with a disgusting, nauseating odor that stemmed from two buckets in the corner of the room. You were forced to relieve yourself in those buckets, the smell of your waste making you gag with almost every breath.

The only way you could ever sleep during that time was to pull your shirt over your head. At least then you wouldn’t have to see that bright light or smell that putrid odor.

In all that time you were kept there, you sat in the same pair of cargo pants and muscle shirt that you woke up in, never granted a shower much less freedom from this room. For days or even weeks, you were stewing in your own dirt and sweat. Your body reeked and your greasy hair was tangled up in a rats nest in the back.

You could only imagine what you looked like.

You had no socks or shoes, so your feet were adorned in scrapes and bruises from being dragged around weeks prior. From not having any access to a bath, much less a moisturizer, your feet were becoming dry and cracked. There were also scabs decorating the heels of your feet due to pieces of glass and debris scattered on the floor of the room. You winced and limped with any step you took on your bloody, raw feet.

Your body was sore, no doubt holding wounds under your skin. Sore burning wrapped around your right wrist and elbow, serving as a reminder of when those soldiers tore you from that redhead and dragged you into that room. You knew that if your left arm was still there, your real left arm, you would feel the same burning soreness mirrored there.

Your stab wound was messily stitched shut and bandaged over, still leaving you with sharp pains if you twisted or turned a certain way. Your neck was sore and bloody due to all of the needle pricks from off market drugs, steroids and sedatives.

Throbbing, stabbing pain radiated from your left arm shoulder all the way throughout your body. It was pain you couldn’t place — pain that you knew didn’t truly come from your shoulder, but that was the last part of your arm that remained. Logically, that was the only place it should be coming from.

It wasn’t just surface level pain either. It dove deep into your nerves that ran all through your body, shocking each one with a jolt of electricity that made you wince and whimper in pain.

It consumed every cell in your body. Lighting every blood vessel on fire, flaying your muscles alive. It made the nerves in your back and arms tense up, rendering you immobile until your body finally relaxed.

Sooner or later though, delirium would begin setting in. Forcing you to crumble from the pain and surrender to exhaustion, and letting your eyelids flutter closed.

Even in your unconscious state, you were miserable. Your heartbeat pounded in your already aching head. Your throat scratched with every inhale and exhale. The skin that met metal on your left shoulder was still searing as if you were being branded like cattle.

In some ways you were.

With every labored wheeze, your chest screamed in white hot pain that was reminiscent of the knife piercing your abdomen. The stitches threatened to rip open with any sharp intake of breath or involuntary muscle twitch. Every single scrape, bruise and gash that littered your body still screamed in pain while you slept. Your face was still screwed up in agony, brows furrowed and eyes clenched shut.

Your dreams were filled with light and warmth, blossoming safety and protection. You dreamed of your safe haven that lied solely in Johnny and Simon. Your dreams were filled with Johnny's warmth. His tan skin and cerulean eyes, crinkling with his booming laughter at some stupid joke you told him. His big arms that were corded with muscle, wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. His husky, accented voice that sounded like pure honey as he complimented you. Your dreams were filled with Simon's instinctual protection. Flashes of him braking hard in the Hum-vee, making sure to lash out a tattooed arm in front of your stomach to shield you. Flashes of him gently taking your chin in his hand and tilting your face after an explosive goes off, ensuring that your ears weren’t bleeding and no debris had hit your face. Flashes of him sweeping you off your feet and carrying you in his arms the second he sees you sporting limp on a mission.

In the dream, you heard their voices as clear as day. You welcomed it, even in the dream, because you feared that would be the last time you ever heard their voices.

“Bonnie,” Johnny's accented voice echoed in your head, a bit cloudy from being submerged in the rest of the dream.

“Lovie,” Simon's usually commanding voice had softened remarkably, as if he wanted to comfort you and drag you further into slumber.

Their voices continued overlapping in your dream, acting as a tether to your unconscious state. You hung onto every last word, every last syllable, desperate to be out of this hell hole. Even if dreaming would be your only escape, you would gladly take it.

In your dream, they would cup your cheek and wipe away the fat tears that fall down your face. They would pull you into their chests and let you bury your face in their vests, soaking the fabric with your tears and snot.

“We got you,” they would murmur in your dream, pressing kisses to the crown of your head.

They kept repeating that phrase, turning into a mantra of sorts, becoming louder with each repetition.

They became so loud in fact, that it pulled you from your state of consciousness and made you gasp awake.

“We got you, Y/N!” They shouted as you took in your surroundings.

What you saw made tears pool in your eyes. Captain Price, Kyle, Johnny and Simon. They were all storming into your room, dressed in their usual combat gear and sporting their preferred assault rifles. Racing over to your cot with concern etched onto their faces as they took in your injured state, tear stained face and your new arm.

Before they could make even two steps toward you, gun shots rang out from Russian soldiers.

“No!” You wailed, vision blurring and lips trembling.

Blood spattered on the walls and onto the floor as the bullets tore apart the bodies of the four men in your life. Their corpses bodies fell limp on the dirty floor, blood pooling around them. Their guts and intestines were spilling out of their stomach. You could see their muscle and fat, covered in a sheen of crimson.

You could only sob as you watched the life drain from the four men’s eyes.

Captain Price was still just looking at you, his lips freezing in a sad smile as his eyes glazed over. His hat was knocked off during the shooting, revealing his hair bloodied and matted. Brain matter scattered the surrounding area.

Kyle was staring up at the ceiling, eyes looking but not actually seeing. In addition to taking multiple rounds in his chest, his carotid artery was shot, leaving him to quickly bleed to death.

You screamed into your hands when it came to your last two boys, to the loves of your life.

Johnny was smiling, somehow. Even as his mohawk was soaked in blood and brain matter. Even as his face was splattered in his own guts, and blood was leaking from his mouth. He was still fucking smiling at you, his pearly whites now tainted by the crimson liquid. His eyes drove a knife through your heart and twisted. His once vibrant cerulean eyes were now empty and drained of any life. There was no emotion, no warmth.

Looking at Simon is what took that same knife that was buried in your heart, and thrusted it back in. Over and over and over. His mask had fallen off from the hitting the ground so hard. His honeyed eyes that once entranced you, enthralled you, were now rolled back into his skull. His face was revealed for anyone to see. Only it was covered in blood, every single inch of it. His bleach blond hair was drenched in crimson, the strands sticking to his forehead. His eyelashes that used to be so white and pretty were now covered in the same liquid as it dripped down his face. His mouth was open in a silent scream, blood trickling out of his mouth. His neck was torn apart, allowing you to see every muscle and tendon and even some bone.

Both Johnny's hands were outstretched, reaching towards you. Even when they were dead. Murdered. Slaughtered. They were still reaching out for you.

No pain in the world could compare to this. You clutched your stomach and screamed, trying to get rid of the pain in your heart but you couldn’t. You just kept wailing and gasping for air.

They were all dead.

Dead because of you.

No matter where you looked, there was blood. On the walls, on the floor, on the cot. Some had even splattered onto you.

Fitting, considering their blood was on your hands. Literally and figuratively.

You tried to close your eyes but all you saw was dead eyes and gaping holes, skin torn apart and muscle shredded to pieces. You tried to convince yourself that it was all just a dream, conjured up by your state of delirium. But every time you peeked your eyes open, your worst fears were just confirmed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You sobbed.

“I’m so sorry. It should have been me.”

Suddenly, the door to your room creaked open and in the blink of an eye, everything changed. The scene before you completely disappeared. All of the bodies were gone, along with all of the intestines and guts piled around them. The pools of blood were gone, the floor wasn’t even stained from it.

The room was exactly the same as it had been for weeks.

It was all a hallucination. They never came for you. They were never murdered right in front of you. They were alive.

You were going insane, but they were alive.

The relief that flooded your chest was short lived once you saw who opened the door. It was the same doctor who wielded the bone saw.

The doctor that dismembered you.

next chapter

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

[bimgtt]

SP never destroyed anything

so what they wanna proof that blushing sasuke loved sakura but in real sasuke blushing at that time means it's embarrassment nothing romantic, sp didn't do shit

what has changed it is till the same bloody

They did good by showing sakura isn't insensitive jerk to a injured person and giving him space but in manga she is a insensitive prick

when is sasuke blushing, it was shadow of his hair sasuke was actually smiling in anime, plus anime was in 2000s, that's why quality down, so they focus on important things, blushing was like something impossible to add at that for some reason

instead they add a hug so it's not even that important cz sakura forcefully squeezing sasuke's hand

funny angry expression cz he had a vision of his massacre self and angry and now wanna throw at someone bc of curse mark, it's same

what's their agenda with this, it proves nothing negative for sasuke

what's difference, both same expression of gratefulness for a comrade mixture with sad and frustration along with pain of curse mark

again what they wanna proof sasuke even not looking at sakura but drawn from different angle than manga that's why it's misunderstood sasuke is looking to none but towards empty point,

what it proves that sasuke love her, delusion looool

same expression in one sasuke looks more exhausted and nihilist and indifferent robotic face other one more angry,

doesn't proof anything positive for sakra stan to cherry picks

again when opening your mouth is surprised expression with no reaction dialogue, both have same expression with manga had open mouth, sakra stan cheery picks well

sugarcoating like sakra stan, sasuke's face is surprised in the anime too but you have to see very closely to understand that not from far away cz it was drawn in a very small way

studio can't cz the way draw sasuke was different then manga that's why they can't add blushing, it would be inconsistent,

also blushing doesn't mean she likes her but he was flustered for some reason, we know what is the reason but you can't sugarcoat panel without indicating concretely why sasuke felt flustered for sakura or something else or being centre of attention when he said about his goal

lol in manga sasuke even not laughing just looking at her with guilt face not love but in anime he is laughing like he is part of team 7 now,

funny this where guilt tripping of sasuke by team 7 started

at least anime tried to make it like consistent memory while manga proved it imagination of sarada with sasuke having both hand and fat

what does it even proof when it was stated sasuke had no contract with her for decade in your fanfic novel mentioned it so why does it matter if it was present or not cz people will read gaiden not only watch anime

this one is bad

instead they add sakura's badass fight not damsel in distress

in manga sasuke looked like depressed as hell but in anime they made him jolly, should be happy for your stan, sasuke didn't , he did cz sarada did

when novel became canon,

they are same as anime canon fillers,

so be grateful, they even adapted these fanfic which only for shippers

lol at least anime showed the canon sasuke not fanfic sasuke,

sasuke who didn't even care when his wife transported now jealous and didn't even hug her when she wanted lol??

anime did better to maintain consistency of sasuke, sasuke never gets jealous, didn't even care when she stabbed by madara never sent a letter in a decade now suddenly jealous

it was filler they can't add everything

like it' even a problem!!

lol sasuke's jealousy wasn't there when he was contract less with her for decade

they removed the creepy part of sakura

if he can count on her then why didn't he let her beat shin uchiha and sending letter to her, i mean he can count on her so sending letter wouldn't hurt his mission after all he can count on her

they want anime fillers to be treated as arc when SP had tight schedule at that time for boruto

he is having smiling face

the man who doesn't even care to send a letter once for a decade or mentioning his wife name before leaving with boruto

[findingnemosworld]

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 - 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐧𝐮́𝐧̃𝐞𝐳

• 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: @writtenbykirs

( 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 )

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐬𝐦*𝐭.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐲𝐲𝐲!!!

Silence camps between them as they enter the hotel room, she placed her suitcase on the left side of the room whilst he placed his on the far right side, He turns to her with a rude look. " This wouldn’t have happened had you let me handle talking to the receptionist! "

" Talking? you were eye fucking her you damn horny creep " She groans, then added. " I swear you can’t go a day without wanting to bury your cock in some girl’s pussy "

" What can I say? the girls love me muñeca " He shrugs nonchalantly, a smug smile evident across his lips.

" No, no … you just think they do, they love the footballer who thinks he’s god’s gift to women when all he is, is a guy who just so happens to know how to roll a ball between his feet, nothing more, nothing less " She said.

" You know, instead of being so uptight — I can help you loosen up " He states with a smirk.

" Wouldn’t you like that? but you know what I’d rather cut off my right arm then have sex with you " She spat.

He chuckles, " That’s funny, you had no problem letting Trent flirt with you "

She rolls her eyes, " Oh here we go! " she murmured, it seemed like he had to comment on her close friendship with the football player, the pair hailed from the same area which allowed them to become closer.

" Don’t lie to me muñeca, you know damn well you’d rather have Trent here with you right now " He said, chuckling smugly. " I swear, it doesn’t take an idiot to see how it is with you two "

" And why are you so worked up about it huh? is your ego bruised because I’m not like every girl that falls down to her knees wanting to suck your dick " She laughs, " Just so you know … you won’t make it in life if you keep thinking like this "

He was about to respond when he noted how furious she seemed, so he opted not to — instead watching as she grabbed her change of clothing to go shower, " Don’t take up all the hot water "

She flipped him off before slamming the bathroom door behind her. He sighs softly, this wasn’t what he envisioned, not even in the slightest.

He didn’t necessarily hate her — if anything he liked her, he really liked her yet he couldn’t find it in him; it was so arduous to tell her as every time he was around her, he’d either end up behaving like a dumb teenager or worse, say the absolute wrong thing which resulted in her getting angry at him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, she stepped out, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, she shot him a glare then said. " There’s hot water if you’re going to shower "

He grabs his change of clothes then looks at her, " At least you didn’t yell at me " he chuckles.

She ignored his remark, busying herself with her laptop.

__

" Are you awake? "

Her brows knit in confusion, she turns to face him with a confused expression, the numbers 𝟒:𝟎𝟎𝐚𝐦 — glaring to cast a brief illumination in their hotel room, " What do you want? " she murmured, a ponderous sigh escapes her lips.

He rolls his eyes then whined, " I just want to talk amor, come on "

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his childish antics then responded with a sarcastic tone, " Oh lucky me! you, the mighty Darwin Núñez wants to talk to me "

" Why do you have to be so uptight? " He grunts.

" Maybe because you’re an insensitive, self centered prick " She retorted with an eye roll.

" I’m an insensitive prick, you’re the one who would brush me off every time I talk to you " He states, turning to face her. " You have no idea how difficult you are "

" I’m only an ‘uptight’ person because all you do is find new ways to annoy me, who broke the lights last week? you did … who spilt hot coffee all over my papers, you did … who thought it’d be a good idea to play a prank only for me to take four fucking weeks to remove the stench of paint from my office? you … it’s like you enjoyed seeing me suffer " She groans in frustration.

He sighs, " I … "

" You know what … " She interjects, sitting up. " I tried to understand you Darwin, I really did but every time it’s like you shut me out, I don’t get it … "

" I don’t … " He paused, " Yes I was a bit of a cocky prick "

" That’s an understatement " She chuckled dryly before adding. " Darwin, every time we talk or even try to, you either make a disgusting remark about my body, you act as if your god’s gift to women and you flirt with everything that has a pulse, the amount of female interns that came to me with tears because you string them on then leave them … "

A soft sigh escapes his lips, " I … I had no idea at all "

" Of course you didn’t all you do is think about yourself " She rolled her eyes.

" You know what, if you give me a chance … I can show you that I’m not as bad as you think I am " He whispers.

" As If, like I said I’d rather cut off my right arm then sleep with you Núñez " She said.

He sighs, " Fine then, you leave me no choice … " he tugs her in for a searing passionate kiss, his lips devouring hers entirely.

She’d tried to initially resist, only to end up melting in his embrace resulting in him smiling against her lips, he pulls back then whispers. " I told you … "

Before she can respond, he pins her down on the bed to press tantalizingly leisure kisses across the length of her shoulder, " Let me tell you muñeca, I’ve dreamt about this since the day I met you "

His words sent shivers down her spine, " What do you mean? " she whispers.

He lifts his head up, one hand grips her waist while the other rests on the side of her neck, he leans in to kiss her deeply then whisper softly, " I like you, I like you a lot … more than I can explain "

Her eyes widen, " Then why did you …? "

" I was an idiot muñeca, I was a complete idiot that couldn’t for the life of him tell you how he felt … " He chuckles shyly, " Please, tell me you feel the same way or at the very least you’re willing to let me make you happy amor "

She bites down on her lower lip, then tugs him in for a soft kiss that deepened immediately — his hands crawled underneath the shirt to caress her soft skin drawing out soft gasps from her lips, " Darwin " she whimpers.

He smiles then lifts his head up, " Sit up muñeca " he whispers.

She sits up then he followed suit, patting his lap for her to sit on — she giggled then settled on top of his lap, he pulls her in for a kiss before he tugged her shirt over her head, they exchange sweet kisses that grew heated as he gently tugged his boxers down to free his cock, her gaze flickers downwards and she subconsciously licks her lips.

" Sit up muñeca, want to feel you wrapped around my cock " He whispers.

She nods, pushing her panties to the side to allow him to tease her slick pussy with the tip of his cock before he pushed his the entire length of his cock inside of her — the pair releasing a unanimous gasp together, " Fuck " she whispers.

" Jesus muñeca, this is better than all the nights I ever imagined this " He murmurs softly, " Come on, bounce of my cock bebe "

She bites on her lower lip, settling in for a brief moment before she began to move up and down, their hips colliding with each thrust, the pair releasing soft breaths together, he tugs her in for a passionate kiss, " Keep moving bebe, I’m almost there "

" Me too " She moans, biting down on her lip as she threw her head back, " Oh fuck, I’m going to cum "

" Yeah, come on bebe … cum on my cock " He moans softly.

The knot in her lower abdomen explodes as they exchange one last kiss before he pulled her off of him, " Come here " he whispers as he sits on the edge of the bed, " Clean up the mess you made muñeca "

She smirks, shuffling close until she sat down on her knees, she wrapped her hand around the length of his cock while her lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, she leisurely took him inch by her inch while she used her tongue to lick the prominent veins, drawing out strangled moans from him, his hands threads through her hair as she hopped her head up down, using her lips and tongue to coat his cock with her saliva.

" Oh muñeca, you’re so good at this … keep going, keep going … just like that, oh fuck " He moans, " Oh! … keep going, keep going, oh fuck "

Her movements shifted into a rapid pace, as he continued to release ponderous moans and groans, " Fuck, just like that … I’m almost there, I’m almost there … OH FUCK! "

His cock twitched before releasing warm ropes of arousal down her throat, she lapped up every drop until the very last — she pulls back and before she can utter a single word, he tugs her back up to kiss her softly, " I think you know what that means "

" What? " She giggles.

" You’re mine now " He smiles.

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

Stupidest helluverse super fan take I've just seen is "racial coding doesn't exist," apparently. This was said by a fan that had in their bio that they're combating poor media literacy.

This was only their take because they wanted to defend Stolas imo. They say the ars goetia can't be white because they're just birds and some poc are rich too. Imps shouldn't be seen as poc because white people can be poor. People should just see these characters as the non-human creatures they are.

But that's not how the world works. Racial coding happens, sometimes even unintentionally by authors. Example--goblins are often coded as Jewish because the myths around them were usually based on antisemitic stereotypes and so present day authors often accidentally use those same things without realizing where they came from.

By calling the goetia blue bloods and royals, it invokes the image of white aristocracy in Europe, mainly the UK and France. They're outfits, like stolas's tophat and stellas dress, also add to this coding. As does their classiest and racist treatment of lower demons.

In the same vein, the fact imps & hellhounds are treated poorly solely due to their race makes them come across as some form of poc coded. Striker with his poncho, was coded as Hispanic. Same for the imps who sang his theme song. Yes, white people can be poor too, but because we see no privileged imps on top of the fact their race plays a role in their discrimination, this is clearly coding them as poc.

Yea, they are not really "humans," but they are characters made by humans. You can not fully divorce them from that, especially when these characters are being used as stand ins for human beings (as opposed to as intelligent aliens who are supposed to be seen as inhuman). Even if viv did not intend for these characters to be coded as any race, due to how she wrote the story these characters still have some pretty clear coding.

This one they got right because people see coding where it shouldn't be but in the case of blitzo and stolas you can still see in universe that stolas is an insensitive prick to blitzo.

[waterfallofspace]

Obedience.

Using ~this lovely prompt~ from the incredible @onetrickponi for our dear G/ojo. 

Inumaki Translation Key:  “Bonito flakes” -Negative/Negation “Salmon” -Affirmation “Kelp” -Greeting “Caviar” -Curse/Expletive 

Characters: G/ojo, N/anami, I/numaki, Y/uji, M/egumi, N/obara, P/anda, and M/aki. (All platonic) Word Count: 2.7k

(References to mild coughing, and swearing!)

~~~~~~~

Gojo Satoru is an infamous name in Jujutsu. 

Some of the most powerful curse techniques the world has seen, abilities matched only by his intelligence. Not a sorcerer in Japan would deny knowing of him. Yet, ask what comes to mind when you say his name, and power is not the first word to drip off their tongue. 

The exact vocabulary will depend on which lips you pry it from. Higher ups would call him a nuisance. His students may call him aggravating. Fellow sorcerers have been known to use the term irritant. 

No matter who you ask, however, the sentiment rings true. Gojo Satoru is a troublemaker who dances the fine line between ‘loveable’ and ‘prick’. 

As with everything he does, Gojo is skilled at walking the tightrope of annoyance. Most of the time he’s careful to be as close to exasperating as possible, without actually being insensitive, unless it’s to higher ups. 

Most of the time. Then there are days, like last week, where the line is crossed with someone the students care about, and a little payback is required. It’s Inumaki’s turn to get the honours, which he accepts with a graceful “Salmon,” and a smirk. 

This is how a few students find themselves squished against the school, eagerly peeking around corners to watch the scene unfold. 

“Kelp!” Inumaki calls, gesturing for his fellow second years to gather around. Maki leans against the wall, Panda dropping to the floor and getting comfortable. Standing a few paces away from his target, Inumaki’s careful to measure the distance. Close enough to be obeyed, far enough to stay hidden. 

Down the field, the demonstration is about to begin. 

~~~

“-which leads me to the best part, so Megumi has no idea I’m even there,” Gojo rambles, hands painting spirals through the air. “And I saw him duck into the candy store, which was on my list anyways, so I’m follow-” 

“Satoru, I believe you asked me here for help with a demonstration,” Nanami cuts in, glancing at his watch as he rearranges his glasses. “I clock out in less than an hour. Is this really how you want to spend the time?” 

Nobara chuckles from behind her phone, gesturing towards Gojo. “Pretty sure he’d be thrilled to waste it gossiping. Meanwhile there’s a sale downtown, so if we’re not gonna get to it..?” 

“You people are no fun,” Gojo whines, tilting his glasses to meet Nanami’s eye. “Especially you.” 

Nanami sighs, tapping Yuji on the shoulder and gesturing to Megumi. “Get his attention please.” 

“One of the most boring people I’ve ever met, Nanami.”

“Well then,” Nanami pauses as a whack- sounds out from behind him followed by Yuji groaning. Another sigh raises in his chest. “Good thing my self worth doesn’t rest on what an immature sorcerer thinks of me.” 

Still rubbing his head, Yuji walks back over, Megumi following behind, pointedly refusing to lift his gaze to the teachers. Gojo seems to consider this ‘good enough’, as he begins to get in position, still huffing slightly at the insult tossed his way. 

“Alright guys, and girls~” Gojo adds with a snap in Nobara’s direction, prompting an eye roll from everyone in the group. “Time to get serious. This lesson is about hand-to-hand combat, with no cursed energy.”

Nobara offers a noncommittal hum, clicking away at her phone. Megumi still refuses to acknowledge anything but the bench he’s sitting on. Hesitantly, Yuji raises his hand, waiting till Gojo points at him. 

“Uh- Gojo sensei, didn’t you just teach me how to add cursed energy..?” 

“Correct! However, that’s because you’re already quite strong on your own. Fighting styles will be important for your growth, but it matters less with your brute strength.” 

Pausing, Gojo gestures to Megumi. “Someone like him needs to be constantly polishing their hand-to-hand skills, since he lacks the physical endurance you naturally possess.” 

“Oh, I see! Because he’s not as stron-” Nobara giggles as Yuji massages the back of his head again, Gojo failing to hold back a snicker. Rolling his eyes with another deep sigh, Nanami takes his position, gesturing for Gojo to get on with it. 

“So, for this demonstration I will turn off my infinity so our dear Nanami stands a chance~.” 

“Why don’t you stop talking and get on with it?” Nanami retorts, nodding to his watch. “Forty-five minutes.” 

Finally starting to begin, Gojo lets infinity turn off, placing his hand on Nanami’s shoulder to demonstrate an opening move. Nobara glances up every so often, still typing away at her phone. Megumi stares at the ground, but his lips seem to be repeating Gojo’s instructions. Meanwhile Yuji simply stares, captivated by each new move. 

Just as Gojo leans forward for another exaggerated swing, something hits him. Or more specifically, his nose. 

~”Sneeze.”~ 

Normally a sneeze for Gojo is a slow building process. The itch will start small, just a prickle in his sinuses, before it begins to build into a full blown need. With this one, he barely has time to duck away, pinching his nose shut with a desperate gasp. 

“ah’NXGchh-! hePTTchh-! hh- kNXT’ch-! Oh, ‘scuse me.” Gojo swipes at his nose, frowning at the breathless sensation he’s left with. Normally stifling doesn’t relieve the tickle, but he should be able to do it with minimal effort. 

“You okay, Sensei?” Yuji pipes up, glancing over at Megumi for confirmation. He doesn’t seem alarmed, not bothering to lift his head from his arms, feigning sleep on the bench.

 A few sneezes isn’t usually something to worry about, especially not from Gojo. The man is notorious for his sensitive nose, not to mention over-the-top fits. 

“Yeah, just a bit itchy. Start again. Nanami?”  Nanami gives Gojo a minute to collect himself, then with a nod, takes his stance. 

~”You’re not done.”~ 

“yiEHh’shhieuw-!”

“Watch it-” Nanami jumps back, grimacing as the first one doesn’t miss his sleeve.

“I’m- hH’GNchh-! I’m so- hehh… heptNCH-!” Gojo dives into his hand again, attempting to gasp out what sounds like an apology through the onslaught. “What the he- inchh-! en’gzchh-!”  

The itch is in his nose, but the tingles spread throughout his whole body. As his head dips again and again, he feels each muscle tense. His skin is crawling. Almost like goosebumps, but invisible to the naked eye.

“Woah, Gojo sensei, what’s wrong?” A voice laced with concern calls, but all Gojo can do is hitch, dipping deeper into his palm until he’s practically smothering himself. 

“hedt’chh-! ah’KDNTchh-! God I have… haveto… heh’KNCHh-!” 

While he doesn’t understand exactly what’s happening, he can sense the cursed energy swarming his own. Being aware of every drop overwhelming his system only leaves him more sensitive to the intensely soft feeling burning through his nose. 

“Ew, that’s so gross.” Another voice chimes in, void of concern. Still, Gojo finds himself unable to reply, entirely consumed by the maddening tickle. 

“eh’tnchh-! knchhh-! hahh- DTXNchh’uu-!” 

Every breath brings another sneeze dancing to the tip of his nose, waiting to burst forth. His vision blurs, the stifles not seeming to do anything to stall the exasperating itch. 

~”Enough stifling.”~ 

And just like that, Gojo feels his hand release his nose. A panic begins to seep through his weakened mind as he realizes he didn’t choose to do that. Still, it’s overwritten by the insistent desire that’s not been quelled. 

“hiHyiEShhhiuew-! yishh’hieww-! hh- tnnshh’uu-!”

He manages to get his collar over his face, muffling the bursts into the rapidly dampening fabric. “heh’mPFShhyew-! mmfffshh’iew-! eh’mffshhiueww-!” 

The moisture lining his nose starts to match the oceans forming in his eyes. No amount seems to satiate the tickle. An average fit might last for a while, Gojo’s used to that, but those sneezes feel satisfying. With this tickle, each sneeze that frees itself just brings a new desperation, as if he’s allergic to the act of sneezing. 

And more than that, they’re coming out as his natural ones- “hh’iSHhhieww-! tizshhyueww-!” -fittish and breathy, with a desperate twinge. Much different then the over-the-top presentations he’d normally be putting on. 

“ek’tieshhhieww-! heHh- guhhh…” Only when he can get a breath in does Gojo realize everyone’s staring at him. A heat begins to rise to his cheeks, spreading up into his ears.

Nanami’s hand rests on Gojo’s arm, eyes seeming to study him carefully.  “Satoru, are you alright?” There’s a humour to his voice that Gojo finds quite insulting, despite the kindness of the words.

“I’b ndot-” He pauses, sniffling hard against his wrist. It only serves to irritate his throat, light coughs pouring out. Annoying as it may be, the cough does clear the congestion enough to continue the sentence.

“I’m not sure, but I think… oh wait- hH’yiEShhhuew-! nohhht… notover- ekyiEShhh’shiew-!”

Nobara pipes up this time, phone long forgotten. “That’s disgusting.” 

“ah’KESHhh’yiew-! Wow, thagnks for the sy.. sympa…hahhh…” Making the mistake of opening his eyes, Gojo’s met with the horrifying realization his glasses had fallen off during the fit. The whimper he lets out has even Megumi glancing at him in concern. 

His eyes water again, lashes fluttering against the bright sunlight starting to invade his sinuses. It burns nearly as much as the cursed energy, and Gojo only manages to cast final warning before ducking back into his wrist.

“So itchy… I’mb gonda keep… hh’yIEShhh’yew-! hk’kieww-! ahh’dieuww-! hH’tieww-!” 

The fittish half-sneezes leave him breathless. It’s as if his nose is too sensitive, unable to even form a proper sneeze from the depth of the itch. His eyes snap open, just to plummet back shut as the flash from Megumi’s phone sends him back into hysterics. 

“ihh’kieww-! tchhieww-! ak’tiew-! hh’diueew-!” 

Through the fit, he manages to catch Nanami pulling the phone from Megumi’s hand, muttering something about ‘he has it bad enough’, quickly followed by ‘send me those after.’ The burning in his cheeks deepens, and for a second he considers attempting to warp out of there. 

“ahn’chhuew-! kn’diew-!” That fantasy dies as quick as it was born. 

Grumbling under his breath, Gojo attempts to glare at them, failing spectacularly. “You’re all th- hnn’diew-! ekieww-! ahh’tIEShhuu-! The worst. hK’ENchhiew-! hheHh- guhhh…” 

“For taking pictures when you’re suffering? Wow, I wonder who I could have learned that from.” Megumi adds, taking his phone back from Nanami with a silent glare. 

“Sensei,” Yuji pauses for Gojo to let out another burst before continuing, “Is there anything we can do?” 

Taking a cautious sniff, Gojo manages his first full breath since the fit started. He meets Yuji’s concerned gaze, opens his mouth, and- 

~”It tickles worse.”~ 

-gasps, pitching forward with a full-bodied sneeze. There’s not even time to aim for his shirt, a light mist landing on the ground. He feels his teary eyes flutter, nostrils quivering against the unbelievable urge. 

Before he knows it he’s leaning over, hands against knees- “hH’djZSHhuu-! yiEShhhIHhew-! ahh’knZShhhyeww-!”  -sneezing openly towards the ground. 

At this display, Nanami and Megumi chime in with a matching “gross” as Nobara openly shudders, taking several steps back. Seemingly the only one not disgusted, Yuji steps forward, resting his hand on Gojo’s back as it trembles. 

“Do you know what’s going on, Sensei?” 

Despite having a pretty good idea, Gojo just offers a frantic wave. As his nostrils flare again, he spins away from the group, the attack gaining a harsher quality.

“kNZSHhhuu-! ah’DZSHhh’tiew-! Oh my- hH’EZSHH’uew-!” 

Gojo convulses again, intense sneezes continuing to assault his trembling septum as he wipes the tears from his flushed cheeks,

~~~ 

Across the field, Inumaki mimics the movement, Panda and Maki joining in with their own chuckles. The hilarity of his reaction leaves them almost as breathless as their target. Laughter of this pure a degree had become quite rare for them, and it almost made them feel bad about the torment. 

“Okay,” Noticing Inumaki gearing up again, Panda gives him a gentle nudge.  “You should probably ease up now. You don’t want him actually passing out.”

“Bonito flakes..?” 

Panda sighs, nodding at him. “Yes, you do have to.” 

From her position against the wall, Maki chimes in, “He’s gonna be so pissed.” 

“Caviar… Salmon, Salmon.” Inumaki agrees. Dropping his collar again, he gives one final command.

~”You have one last sneeze in you.”~ 

With that, the three lean back to watch the finale. 

~~~ 

“kshh’diew-!” 

Pausing, Gojo feels something change. The jittery feeling that had been spread across his body honed in on his nose, amplifying the tickle. As his hand begins to frantically fan his face, he feels the world start to fade away. Soon all that exists is him and the itch. 

For the first time in his life, Gojo feels like he might understand what it’s like to be trapped in Infinite Void. Every feeling seems miles away, and yet at the same time it’s touching him. Each breath is too slow, but he’s panting. 

Time seems to stop, nothing but the tickle remaining as Gojo tilts his head back, desperately looking for anything to bring this to an end. Any source of brightness to- there it is. 

If he’d had any vision, the light would have stolen it, but instead, mercifully, he dives into his hands with a final vicious sneeze.  

“heH’DIEZSHHH’kiuew-!” 

 Even Megumi chimes in with an almost concerned, “That was intense.” 

Gojo gives him a vague smile, pale cheeks stained with blush as he sinks to his knees, rubbing his nose with a ferocity that leaves everyone wincing. 

“Do you need to go see Shoko..?” Yuji asks, but Gojo shakes his head, still panting. Nanami kneels down beside him, draping an arm over his shoulders as he pulls Gojo back to his feet. 

Letting Nanami support his weight, Gojo clears his throat, his blush deepening at the congestion that lingers. “I thignk I’ll be fidne ndow. Just godda sleebp this off.”

“You sound awful,” Megumi mutters, grimacing as Gojo winks at him. 

“Awww, are you concerdned about mbee? Thadts so sweedt of you, Megumbi!” 

In response Megumi scowls, the expression slowly morphing into a smirk as he holds up his phone. “Well, I guess these photos just put me in a good mood.” 

As he passes it around, Nobara and Yuji start howling with laughter, even Nanami suppressing a few chuckles. Gojo sighs playfully, attempting to brush off the way his ears seem to burn. 

“I defignitely deserved thadt.” He laughs, before exhaustion deepens its hold, and he leans against Nanami with an uncovered yawn. 

Nanami chuckles again, this time unrestrained. “You probably did.” And with that, begins the walk towards the school, Gojo still unsteady on his feet. Behind them, Megumi joins in on the laughter, and Gojo sighs at the inevitability of those photos ending up online. 

~~~ 

Just before they make it inside, he suddenly pulls away, whipping as far away from Nanami as he can manage. 

“hiH’TIEShhh’diew-! ahhh’kesshhyew-!” 

They’re followed by a low moan as he rubs his nose half raw against his arm.

“They’re right, you know, Satoru. You really are gross.” 

“hah’inKEShhh’yiew-! Thagnks, Nadnambi,” Gojo says, sniffling hard against his wrist. There’s a mild laughter to his tone. “Woah, thadt’s hard to say. hH- oh fuckigg- hh’kiezshh’uu-!” 

“Bless you.”

The western blessing gets a full laugh, which quickly descends into a productive cough. Raising his watery eyes to meet Nanami’s stern gaze, Gojo chokes out, “How- ndice o- of you.” 

“Let’s get you to a couch to lay down.”

“Thadt would be perfegct.” 

~~~

Sure enough, as Gojo sleeps it off, the photos begin spreading. Unfortunately for Megumi, most people seem to share the conclusion that, even while in the grips of a full sneezing attack, Gojo Satoru looks gorgeous. 

By the time the next day rolls around, the post has gotten over a million likes. Megumi attempts to delete the post, but ‘StrongestSorcererSatoru’ reuploads it. 

A week later rumours are spreading through the Jujutsu world. Gojo Satoru horrific sneezing fit, Inumaki force to be reckoned with even for the strongest, but by far the most surprising, Gojo Satoru apologized for going too far. 

Seems even Satoru can take a hint when it’s of that magnitude. 

Inumaki notices a few extra stares being cast his way, but it comes with more than enough pats on the back to make up for it. 

Everyone loves Gojo getting humbled a little.

[violentlyexplosive]

man, trying to find good fan-written work featuring a blind/visually impaired character (or reader) is like wading through waterfalls of literal shit. like I hate being mean about this kinda stuff, I understand not everyone on the planet knows what it's like to not be able to see properly, but for the love of GOD, GOOGLE IT. OR ASK SOMEONE. OR JUST DON'T WRITE ABOUT SOMETHING YOU KNOW LESS THAN NOTHING ABOUT.

if you're hell bent on writing a visually impaired or blind person, here are some quick pointers so you don't come across as an ableist prick:

99% of us don't hate being blind. some of us were born this way. others have had plenty of time to come to terms with whatever happened to us. for a whole lot of us, it is simply a fact of life, and not something we even really think a lot about on a day to day basis. I am sure there are tons of low vision people out there that do hate it, but it is an incredibly individualised and nuanced experience. please for the love of all literary goodness, don't do the whole "oh woe is me, I'm blind, however will I go on!!!" thing. it's tired, overdone, and frankly a little insensitive.

WE DON'T JUST SEE DARKNESS. WE DON'T SEE BLACK. WE DO NOT SEE. for some people, like myself, we have significant vision loss, but can still see clearly enough to move through life without much difficulty. for others, they might have large blind spots, and small sections of vision to rely on. only a very small percentage of us have absolutely 0 vision, and in those cases, it isn't "darkness" or "pitch black" that one sees- it is nothing. I know it can be hard to wrap your head around, but a common example used is: bend your arm and point your elbow forward. what does your elbow see? nothing, right? not blackness, not darkness- just the absence of sight. that is what total blindness looks like.

ok, so I'm aware this one people are getting better about, but it bears repeating: blind people do not touch faces to "see" them. why the fuck would we do that. I'm sure with close family members, romantic partners, or even friends, it may be something one does just for the fuck of it, or to make note of a specific feature (i.e. hair texture, nose shape, scars, etc,) but nobody is out here using their fingers to map out people's faces just on the reg. do you have any idea how awkward that would be. I don't know where your face has been, and I'd frankly rather just imagine the specifics of your features and admire your blurry visage WITHOUT my fingies, thank you very much.

OUR OTHER SENSES ARE NOT MAGICALLY ENHANCED. we're not superheroes, we're disabled. sure, over time, we might come to rely on our other senses more, and hone them better, but we're not fucking Daredevil. I can't hear the buzzing of my lightbulbs because I'm legally blind and super cool (unfortunately,) I hear them because I'm fucking autistic.

a good chunk of us don't know how to read braille. an unfortunate side effect of having text to speech functions on phone cameras is the loss of this skill. if i can't read something, I ask someone else to read it for me, or I take a picture and zoom in. braille differs from country to country, language to language, etc etc. even if I learned Irish braille (written as Gaeilge, by the way, so not even in English!) I would not be able to read braille in my native language of Swedish. and beyond drugstore products, it typically isn't used much. I've rarely, if ever, found braille menus, instruction manuals, books, etc. and with modern technology, learning and knowing braille is falling increasingly out of style.

not all blind eyes look milky/all white. my fully blind eye is constantly closed, but my functioning, legally blind eye is perfectly normal in appearance. in fact, you've probably met one or two people in your life who would qualify as legally blind/low vision who function and, through all outward appearances, are no different from you.

we are not weak little babies that need protecting. I'd argue that visually impaired people can probably get around better than some fully sighted people, purely because we're forced to be more aware of our surroundings. not to mention some of us have guide dogs or friends/family/what-have-you to help us manoeuvre when necessary. just because we can't see well doesn't mean we're damsels in distress incapable of wiping our own asses. we're people with personalities and skill sets and life experiences, not infants.

ok so I'm sure this has come across as aggressive and/or rude, but yknow what? I don't particularly care anymore. I have seen far too many ignorant and uneducated people try to write or otherwise portray blind/visually impaired characters using guesswork and stereotypes from television, and I've just hit a wall in terms of being able to disregard it and not care. I do care. a whole lot, apparently. I'm tired of seeing random people on the internet deciding they'll write a low vision character and butchering it so terribly it makes me physically cringe. if you have to write a character with a visual disability, I implore you to read a fucking book, google it for 15 minutes, hell, make a reddit post or something to ask actual visually disabled people about their experiences so you're not making a fool of yourself, talking out of your ass and insulting an entire category of human beings. it is that easy.

[an-inspired-eternity]

talk about damon’s autism induced gifted kid syndrome in excruciating detail challenge go

HE’S SO. HE’S SO. HRGH.

damon acts like a pretentious prick, but unlike, say.. togami, (or even wenona, as an example to someone from damon’s home game), there’s hints that there’s more to it than just “being pretentious for the sake of being pretentious”. 

most obviously, damon desperately insists that his talent is important and special. that, plus the way damon talks of most everyone else’s talents, to me, really gives the impression that he grew up being told/thinking that he HAD to contribute to the world/society in order to have a place in it (and given that he also hadn’t heard of any of the other ultimates in his class, it’s possible he was very sheltered, too.)

(and we will come back to damon’s view of his talent and the importance of it.)

damon’s bio mentions also how socially isolated he was, that he’d argue back to anyone who tried to confront him and got used to the idea of being alone- and it shows with how he acts in the prologue. he’s so used to being alone that when he thinks he’s being isolated again he just accepts it. doesn’t fight back or try to do anything about it. 

but there’s still hints that, despite being used to it, he does desire company.

(a one-off line, but the impression it gives is.. a little sad, to say the least. i’ve kinda not made a post about it but this entire introduction with desmond made me desire for the two to be friends, to the point i wrote a fic about it.)

as for damon’s copium.. i think the prologue investigation is the best example, because talking to the other characters before he reaches the closet, he keeps insisting to them that the body’s just “a dummy, you don’t need to be so freaked out by it.”, which given that we’re told it was based on a real murder in-universe, does come off insensitive..

..until we see damon also trying to convince himself of that. even looking back over what the trinket tells them about the murder, he’s uncomfortable about reading what cara went through, and he has to keep himself from being physically ill when investigating the actual dummy. he’s scared. but he hides his discomfort behind a cool attitude.

coming back to damon’s attitude on his talent, the ending of the prologue.. really stuck out to me, for a number of reasons. the main one being.. god i have been in that position, not quite to that degree, but being in an argument and trying to explain my case, only to make it worse for myself? the rsd that comes from that sucks, and especially because for as much as damon made it worse, he was genuinely trying to help and believed he had the right idea. but also..

grace asks damon the big question, what makes him so special? what gives him the right to act the way he does? believing he’s so much more important than everyone else?

and that’s the thing, if damon truly believed without any doubt that his talent and he by extension was so special and important, he wouldn’t have faltered in his answer (even the voiceline for his response is the one where he stammers), he wouldn’t feel those words shaking his very being. 

damon has convinced himself that he’s important, that his talent shines above all the rest, because he’s scared of the alternative. he’s clung to his talent his entire life because it’s all he has. because he’s convinced that without his talent, he’s nothing. just some nobody in the crowd.  he’s dug himself into this hole because he doesn’t know any other alternative.

i really hope chapter 1 lets us see damon be more vulnerable, take away atleast some of that wall he hides behind, most importantly i hope that damon doesn’t actually end up as isolated as he thinks he’s going to be by the end of the prologue. he needs people to support him and show him he doesn’t have to think this way, that he’s worth more than his talent.

[gaintsnowflake]

LAST LOVE

PAIRING - Lucy Carlyle x Fem!Reader

ONESHOT - in which you get stabbed and only have a few more minutes to live

TRIGGERS - death, blood, and being stabbed

A/N - Very angsty but if you really look for it there is some fluff, please mind any typos or grammar mistakes, it is proof-read only by me so I won’t be able to catch everything

WORD COUNT - 0.9k

alternate ending | masterlist

I FELT something penetrate my stomach. I looked down to see a rapier barely sticking out of my abdomen. Blood slowly started to trickle down my stomach, which you could see through my clothes.

The golden blade laughed as I fell back. The pain was excruciating. He held onto the rapier and pulled it out, causing large amounts of blood to leave my open wound.

I wasn't going to survive.

I could hear Lucy scream as she ran towards me, dropping her rapier in the process. Lockwood, on the other hand, stared for a few moments before jumping into action against the golden blade, most likely trying to protect Lucy and me.

I fell to the ground, not being able to hold a stand any longer. My entire body was shutting down.

Quickly, I reached towards the wound, trying to cover it with my hand. As Lucy kneeled above me, I could already see the tears in her eyes. She looked into my eyes before looking down at the wound, applying pressure with one hand, and trying to rip off the sleeve of her dress with the other, but she was failing to do so. She started sobbing as she failed to rip it off.

"It's okay, Luce, it's okay," I reached up to caress her cheek. "Just get out of here, I'm a lost cause."

"No. No. No. You're going to be okay. You will be okay. Promise me you will be okay! We- we'll take you to the hospital, and they will treat your wounds. You're going to be okay."

Lucy stared me in the eyes, so scared to look away to see my wounds and my body covered with blood.

"My love I-"

"No! Don't give me all of that bullshit! You are going to be okay!" She screamed as she started to pull me up to a sitting position. As soon as I sat up, I started coughing up blood.

I grabbed her face and pulled it towards mine. I just wanted to kiss her one last time. Quickly, I pressed my lips to hers and pulled away. I chuckled before wincing. Being stabbed and laughing is not a good combo.

"Sorry, my lips are a bit bloody," I grinned with tears streaming down my face.

"It's okay, you- you can give me a proper kiss when we get back home." I could see the hope in her eyes, but deep down, she knew I wasn't making this out alive.

"Lucy-"

I was cut off by her grabbing the walkie-talkie with one hand.

"George, we need an ambulance right now." She sent it over before throwing it away, bringing her attention back toward me.

I could hear cuts of George's voice asking what was wrong, but I drowned it out with the sound of Lucy's sobs and her trying to tell me it'll be okay.

"Love, look at me," I waited until her eyes met mine before continuing. "I love you, I have always loved you. I want you to leave me here. There is no way I will live. But I don't want you to die because of me. I don't think I'll be able to survive the afterlife if you die because of me. So please, my love, go. Run. Save yourself. Save Lockwood. Please, if I can't live, I want you to for us. For me."

"No, I can't just leave you here! You're such a prick. I'm not leaving you here to die."

Before I could respond, Lockwood kneeled next to me as well.

"Lucy, she's going to die either way. She took a rapier to the lung, she is drifting away, coughing up blood. She isn't going to make it luce and we have to go."

"You insensitive prick! She- she is going - she will make it! She has, too. I can't live without her. I can't live without you... please don't go." Lucy stumbled for her words, laying her head on my chest.

"Y/n, I'm sorry..." Lockwood looked towards me. He was at a loss for words.

"Lockwood, please, just go talk to George and tell him what happened. Please leave me to talk to Lucy," I looked down to see Lucy's head still on my shoulder. Lockwood nodded, getting back up and walking away.

I laid back down, and I could feel my last breaths approaching. Black dots cloud my vision slowly. I needed to make this quick.

"Lucy, I love you, okay?" I started, my voice getting weaker and weaker, as she sat back up and looked at me, nodding, whipping away her tears. I've never seen her like this, not even putting up a fight. "I want you to live for us. I want you to move on and be okay. You deserve to be happy. You deserve love. You deserve everything. Please, move on."

"No. No, I can't. You are my everything, I can't live without you," she cried, shaking her head no.

"Please, for me. It is my dying wish for you to be happy." I said as I felt everything being sucked out of me. I now stared into the sky, I couldn't hold my head up anymore and let out three breathy last words. "I. Love. You."

It took me seconds before I lost my life, which may just be the most painful of my life. I could feel her shaking me so violently as her voice ran out and she screamed no. I could see Lockwood pull her away as she kicked and screamed my name. My vision ran out just before my hearing.

Soon, I lost the feeling of my body. I welcomed death, like an old friend. There was just one thing I was happy about, Lucy Carlyle was my LAST LOVE.

[tsukarysgrimoire]

Ranting of the day

Beware loooong rant ahead.

There are many things I can't understand, not because I'm stupid, far from it, but simply because I don't think like most people.

All my life I've felt strange, isolated, as if I didn't belong in the world around me. I still do, but at least now I know why, and that's been a great relief. I remember the first time I went to see my psychiatrist, I said to him 'Doctor, I'm not normal' and he replied 'What's normal?', which is a good question, because thanks to him I understood that there isn't a right way of thinking and a wrong way of thinking. We can't control how our brain, our mind, reacts and works. After more than fifteen years of therapy, I have an explanation for why I feel out of step, why I don't think like other people. It's called HPI, which, I've learnt from a little research, doesn't mean that I'm more intelligent than others, but that I'm intelligent in a different way. That my way of thinking doesn't follow the same path as 'normal' people. If a 'normal' person's way of thinking is a highway, then mine is a country road, slowly winding, with many stops to admire the landscape, the trees, the fields… And a lot of junctions leading to other places, other things.

Add to that the fact that I might also be borderline Asperger's and you can see why I'm not cut out to understand things like most people. I react differently to many things. For example, a situation that would move most people can leave me indifferent, and conversely, a situation that most people would ignore can send me into a state of incredible depression or distress. When I was little, my mother used to say to me, 'You'd cry over a dead leaf'!

Probably because of all this, or the fact that I was bullied throughout my schooling for being different, I've also become a hard person who doesn't forgive easily, either myself or others. Loyal to the bone, I can't stand betrayal, or at least what I perceive to be betrayal. And like many people in my situation, I can't stand injustice, or what I perceive to be injustice.

Of course, it's not just about my everyday life, but also about how I perceive the media.

That includes, of course, the show we all love, The Bad Batch.

When they first appeared in The Clones Wars, I can't say I was impressed. Their team was so full of clichés that it was a clichés in itself: the cheap Rambo, the nerdy guy with glasses, the big bully with big arms and a big heart and… the lone sniper. While I was indifferent to the first three, I was drawn to Crosshair, his design, his character, his outspokenness and the fact that he was a sniper. The world saw him as a selfish, proud, indifferent prick, but I saw someone who dared to speak the naked truth, the truth that no one wants to admit, but which is very real. I've read a lot of reactions applauding the fact that Rex punched Crosshair in the face for being so insensitive. But as I see it, it's not Crosshair's fault that Rex is so weak-minded that he can't handle the truth as it is. What Crosshair says may be brutal, but it's the truth.

Crosshair isn't a perfect character, far from it, and that's why I loved him. I'm bored with nice, fearless heroes who can do no wrong. … Even when I was a kid, I liked the 'bad guys' more than the 'good guys'. I seem to particularly like the dark characters, the ones who aren't afraid to do what needs to be done, even if you end up hating them for it.

I hated the first two seasons of the show for that reason. The good heroes running away from the evil empire for no real reason and thinking they're better than they are because they didn't fall into the trap… lol.

Not to mention that I had absolutely no interest in the kid they picked up along the way. She was just an extra we could have done without.

The only reason I watched the show was Crosshair. And I was very disappointed, not only by the show, but also by people's reactions. Of course, everyone's entitled to their opinion, as I am. I'm certainly not going to apologise for it. I'm certainly not going to apologise for thinking differently to the masses, and I'm not going to apologise for making my point like everyone else; the only thing I want to apologise for is arguing about it with other users of the site.

Here's a non-exhaustive list of opinions that annoy me and how I see things.

1- Crosshair's betrayal: Is that so? That's probably the thing I find most pathetic and laughable at the same time. The big bad Crosshair who betrayed his good brothers for an evil Empire…

I don't even know where to start.

If there are traitors in this mess, it's the Batch and Hunter in particular. They're the ones who chose to run off and leave Crosshair behind, they're the ones who decided to ‘forget all about’ Crosshair, thank you Echo, another point that pisses me off, but we'll come back to it later.

Oh yes, ‘but Crosshair was shooting at them’! They're soldiers, it's not the first time they've been shot at, it's their life. I can understand the surprise of seeing their brother turn on them, but I can't understand why they decided to abandon him like a dog. Tech can pride himself on being supra intelligent, he couldn't even realise that Crosshair's actions weren't normal. Like, he's been a pain up until now, true, but he was not dangerous. The empire takes him aside and half an hour later, he's turned against us… No, nothing, it's completely normal, it's part of his severe and unyielding nature…

And if it stopped there…

Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, is done to find Crosshair and help him. In fact, they get to Ord Mantel and it's as if Crosshair never existed. They start their mediocre little lives as errand boys for the lizard and are content with that. They don't even talk about making a plan to save Crosshair, which is strange since they have 99 plans up their sleeves.

In fact, they loved Crosshair so much that just days after abandoning him to his fate without looking back, they gave his comlink to his replacement, and if that's not a sign that they had no intention of saving him, then what is? …

'Yeah, but they don't know where he is'… they didn't know where Tantiss was either, but that didn't stop them wasting 6 months looking for Omega. Whereas for Crosshair… NOTHING! Not even for a second!

'They didn't know about the chips', at least not at first, because once they found out and saw what it was like … well, NOTHING, again. Crosshair was a prisoner of his own mind, and no one cared.

Speaking of the chip, they forgave Wrecker for trying to kill them and their precious Omega, while Crosshair had to prove time and again that he was indeed on their side. 'Yeah, but Wrecker apologised!' … Seriously, you kick your brother out of the house because he didn't apologise for making a mistake? … I don't know what world you live in, but it's definitely not mine.

And speaking of that, Hunter and the Batch never apologized either for abandoning Crosshair and leaving him to fend for himself in enemy territory.

'They had to protect Omega" Oh, really? And how did they do that? By dragging her along on their pointless missions? By exposing her to human traffickers, slavers, murderers, bounty hunters… If they'd really wanted to protect Omega, they'd have left her with Cut and Sue. Not to mention the fact that they put themselves and the girl in danger to save complete strangers who meant absolutely nothing to them, while their own brother… guess what… oh yeah, NOTHING!

2- Tech death is Crosshair's fault. Oh? And how? He was imprisoned and tortured on Tantis while his 'nice' brothers were having a good time on Pabu.

Crosshair risked his life to send his brothers orders to hide and lay low, and what do they do? They go to a council of Empire bigwigs and get caught like rookies.

But of course it's Crosshair's fault.

On the other hand, it's strange that I haven't seen anyone pointing the finger at Guerrera. After all, he's the one who rigged the place with explosives, the one who refused to back down because the lives of a handful of clones were less important than his own personal vendetta.

It's true that Guerrera is a good hero, fighting against the evil empire no matter how many hundreds of innocents he kills in his war.

3- Echo is such a good brother and a mother hen. Are you sure we watched the same show? Because Echo doesn't seem like that to me. He's a bitter, tired man who only stays with the Batch because he has nowhere else to go and feels it's his duty, but as soon as he finds somewhere else and a duty he feels is more important, oof! He's gone without a second thought.

Echo, like Omega, is the odd man out in the Batch, but unlike Omega, he gives no indication that he's really trying to fit in. He's just there, and on several occasions he gives the impression of bitterly regretting it.

Of course, he comes back to lend a hand, no pun intended, when the Batch needs it, but I don't think it's as a sign of brotherhood or belonging, he does it because he feels it's his duty, nothing more. If he really felt part of the Batch, he probably wouldn't have told the others to forget about Crosshair without thinking it through. He who was a prisoner and used against his will to kill his own brothers didn't even have the decency to insist on saving one of his rescuers when Crosshair found himself in the same situation. He didn't give a damn. His interactions with Crosshair are close to absolute zero and as warm and welcoming as the Barton 4 climate!

It takes a lot more than that for me to consider him a 'good brother'…

4- Crosshair is a murderer. I have to admit that this one makes me laugh.

Crosshair is a soldier, a sniper, trained to kill on command. How many soldiers do you know who have never killed? You make me laugh with your reductive value judgements. The Batch was an elite commando unit designed for secret missions that no one else could carry out. Do you really think they never killed? Hell, the first thing we learn about them in the Clone Wars is that they killed a Yalbec queen for a 'minor uprising'… That alone proves they've got blood on their hands, all of them.

Crosshair does bad things, I'm well aware of that. Inexcusable, perhaps. But who do you think is the killer? The one who gives the order, or the weapon that carries it out? Because that's all Crosshair is to the Empire. A weapon.

He orders his men to shoot innocent people in Guererra's camp, that's right, and kills one of his men for refusing. At this point, he's still under the influence of the chip, a good little soldier, loyal to the death. And yes, he kills that separatist woman, but what do you think would have happened if he hadn't? He and Cody and every clone in their unit would have been executed for treason. Not to mention, if that woman hadn't been killed, there's a good chance the Empire would have wiped out the entire planet. Is sacrificing one life to save millions of others such a bad choice?

He kills Nolan in cold blood. So? Don't tell me you don't die for it too.

He kills his unit on Kamino. If he hadn't, what do you think would have happened? Crosshair didn't want to kill his brothers, he wanted them to join him, and that wouldn't have been possible if the Imperials had stayed alive. Granted, it wasn't the best method, but it was his way of showing that he didn't give a damn about those men and only wanted his brothers.

For all the good it did him.

5- The Kamino Fiasco. While we're on the subject…

Again, I have so much to say about this that one post wouldn't be enough.

Yet another moment that many have summarised as 'Crosshair's Betrayal'. Once again, it makes me laugh out loud. For an entire season, the Batch ignored Crosshair, except when he was right under their noses. Kamino is the height of their stupidity. Not only did they never do anything to help Crosshair out of the mess they left him in, but now they're rushing to save poor little Hunter from the great danger of his traitorous brother… What do you think went through Crosshair's mind at that moment? When he realised that he wasn't even worth saving, but the whole gang was rushing to Hunter's rescue? That complete strangers who meant absolutely nothing to the Batch were more worth saving than he was?

I, too, would have taken it badly, and I, too, would have let my anger show.

Especially as the Batch's behaviour was far from stellar. They spend literally two whole episodes blaming Crosshair for everything, insulting him, showing him how much they despise him, how happy they are without him with his replacement, how useless he is to them.

"If you had come back to us, we would have taken you back" … yes, and how? when he was being watched day and night by Rampart and his gang. When the chip was still there to distort his thinking. How? When the first thing you do when you see him is point your guns at him?

The Batch treated Crosshair worse than a dog. That moment when he and Omega were freed from the flooded room and I-don't-know-who rushed in to hug Omega as Hunter stopped Crosshair's slide with a kick is still stuck in my throat. Is that how good brothers are? … Well, with a family like that, there's no need for enemies!

And when he saves the little princess from drowning and is thanked by having three blasters aimed at his back, that's family?

The Batch treated Crosshair so well, they were so understanding, so welcoming, so forgiving, that Crosshair had no choice but to stay with the Empire. Not because he wanted to - his reaction to the Marauder's departure proves he's disappointed in his so-called family - but because it's the only place he has left. I remain convinced that if those fools had done otherwise, Crosshair would have gone with them. But alas…

I too would have chosen the Empire in those circumstances.

By the way, I don't know if you noticed, but the ONLY time Hunter and the Batch take Crosshair at his word is when he claims he doesn't have his chip. It's the ONLY time nobody asks any questions or Hunter believes what Crosshair says and takes it at face value. No one is even suggesting that the Empire can lie, not even the ultra-intelligent Tech. No, they just take his word for it, and that's the end of it. They don't even try to see if it's true...

6- Hunter. I didn't like Hunter in The Clone Wars, he was too much of a caricature, but in The Bad Batch I really hated him.

Don't be fooled, Hunter and the Batch are not nice little heroes because they ran away from the big bad Empire. Their decision was stupid and nothing could support it. Tarkin sent them to destroy a rebel camp and instead they came across refugees. SO? Does that prove the Empire is evil? No, it just proves that Tarkin had access to bad information, and I'm sure that happened a lot during the war. Especially if you're a secret squad and you're probably doing illegal things in the name of the Republic, like the rebellion on Yalbec!

Crosshair's reaction, even though influenced by the chip, is the most normal in my opinion. At the stage where Hunter and his gang are running away like cowards, there's still no incontrovertible proof that the Empire is evil, and no proof that the Jedi are innocent. From the clones' point of view, of course. To conclude that the Empire is evil after a single mission that could have just been bad intelligence is unjustified. Sure, we know what it is, but the clones and the galaxy do NOT. At least not yet. It would have seemed a lot less artificial, a lot less "scenarium", if the Batch had stayed around for a while, maybe all the way to Kamino, until they realised the truth and then thought, "OK, that's it, we're out of here". But for them to decide on their own that the Empire is evil after only three days… No, that's just stupid.

Hunter acting like a complete idiot at the beginning of the third season sums up what's been going on all along. You can make excuses for his behaviour, he has none for me. He betrayed his brother, never did anything to save him, as the Kamino episodes prove. As long as Hunter is there, no one moves, but as soon as Hunter is gone, a rescue team is launched, not for Crosshair, but for the Great Leader himself. If that isn't proof that it was Hunter who prevented any rescue attempts…

Not only has he behaved like an idiot throughout the series, but he's got the nerve to ask for explanations… Crosshairs owes him nothing, and certainly no explanations. He did nothing, nothing, he just went with the flow, because with the Republic gone and no one to give him orders, poor little Hunter was so lost he didn't even know how to be a soldier anymore.

Hunter is a hypocrite, he claims he didn't want to put his team in danger from Crosshair, but he doesn't mind putting them in danger from everything else. If I had a sharp tongue, I'd say that Hunter was glad to get rid of Crosshair because he was the only one who dared to open his mouth and tell Hunter what he thought. The rest are just well-trained dogs.

He leaves Crosshair to his fate, just as he leaves the Regs to theirs. Basically, he's a free man and doesn't give a damn about the rest.

It's also funny to note that once Omega is with them, the Batch becomes almost useless. Gone is the 100% success rate, they no longer know how to fight, how to strategise, how to be soldiers.

And his favouritism towards Omega is just sickening. She's the little darling, she comes before everyone and everything, to the point where on several occasions she's the one giving the orders and Hunter follows them without batting an eyelid. Hunter does for Omega what he refused to do for Crosshair and many others. After Tech, the main instigator of a reaction in Crosshair's favour, is dead, Hunter spends SIX LONG MONTHS looking everywhere for his beloved Omega, but for Crosshair nothing, not even a minute of his precious time. He didn't look for him when he fled the Empire, and he doesn't look for him after Eriadu. All he cares about is Omega, the rest of the universe can die for all he cares.

Maybe that's normal for you, but not for me.

I don't expect you to share my opinion, far from it, and you can call me crazy or stupid, it doesn't matter. I'm not saying it is THE truth, but it is MY truth. Since everyone is so open with their opinions, I've decided to be too. I'm biased, I know that and I don't care. You may not like it, you may hate me for the way I see things, it's your opinion.

If you feel like arguing, know that you won't change my mind, just as my post probably hasn't changed yours.

[mysticbeaver]

Do you think Eddy and Kevin kind of ''love to hate'' each other? Like, they hate each other, but they also can't live without each other? If one of them was gone, the other would really miss their enemity or having a arch-enemy overall.

Oh boy you set me off on a tangent lol... my essay below the cut

So about them not being able to live without each other...

I've read analyses saying Eddy himself kinda desires Kevin's acceptance cause it would make it easier to be accepted by everyone, but I think more than that his rivalry comes simply from being the lowest on the totem pole and feeling a visceral schadenfreude at ruining things for the popular kid who seems to have such an easy time in life. So he LOVES aggravating Kevin and trying to find ways to potentially make a fool of him in front of the others or undermine his cool facade This Won't Hurt An Ed). I feel like maybe Kevin would miss Eddy more than viceversa. Cause Eddy's outcast status means he's got nothing to lose, he's got no way but up, and his main detractor being absent would help him climb up the ladder - you could argue Kevin is mainly useful as a "hater", an obstacle that pushes Eddy's motivation to keep going against the tide. Meanwhile Kevin needs the Eds and Eddy in particular to prop himself up, his bully behavior comes out of insecurity but luckily for him, Eddy's activities are often dishonest, so he can sometimes paint himself as a defender of the cul-de-sac from scams. But more often than not, he sabotages and puts Eddy down because he's jealous of the attention (case in point Your Ed Here). What a little prick... I still love him tho lol. Eddy being gone would expose Kevin's negative traits more to the other kids (selfish, insensitive and what not) and make him risk losing his friendships, which are generally more superficial than the brotherly bond the Eds have (what if he's also subconsciously jealous about that? mmm...)

On a more positive note, IF we imagine they might have some fondness for each other deep down, especially if they get on friendlier terms post-BPS... in this case it's interest to imagine how they would react to one of them being gone. Ironically I think they would miss each other less. Because they are now more comfortable with each other and themselves, and they don't need a friendship because they already have other people who are close to them that they love. They leave each other space, and if they end up losing touch, at some point they might meet up again, perhaps accidentally, and it would be a very pleasant "hey let's go have a drink and laugh at our stories of childhood" type of thing. Although I have a bias cause I love the idea of them effectively staying in touch as good friends.

Hope this answers your question 🤣

[silver-wield]

tbh with all whatever aerith says to him it honestly just falls very flat. I don't get why this works enough for some people. And I'm talking about at a platonic level. We never even see her really cheer him on without some hidden agenda from her. It's never selfless. Some think it is but it really isn't. They also love to over hype her dying but uh that's her responsibility? I think it's cool that she does that and has to but .. why treat it as tho it's something she does solely for the sake of him and 50/50 about other and not really about the planet. Savior of the planet my ass. You get what mean? That's like if tifa wanted to save cloud only so he can save the planet which she wants to protect. Yeah nuh uh, she wants to save cloud more than saving the planet. I wish the so called planet heroine cared about the planet more than her own narrative. For all the inability and insensitivity about how she treats him? How the fck is this "caring". Simply because she says fluff shit like "i want to protect them all" and "I'll always be with you"?? Only to him specifically? Not anybody else? The dude who barely cares about her in the level she wished he would. Something her fans complain about how he's so "rude" when she's being a prick.

Wow, is she some masochistic idiot. I feel so bad for Zack, Elmyra, Tifa and Cloud.

She doesn't give a shit except superficially. If it makes her look good then she'll say or do it, but the underlying arrogance of her, even on the altar all "I'm the uber heroine and I love everyone and wanna save everyone!!!" comes across no different than those villainess manhuas where the "saint" is actually a scheming two faced bitch who pretends to be innocent to anyone she can use and then she'll turn her back and her face will twist all ugly showing her real personality of a bitch.

I don't think she's been shown to really care about anyone. She doesn't ask about Barret's past or sympathise with him. She doesn't comfort yuffie any of the times she gets sick. She back stabs Tifa. She doesn't even talk to Red unless it's about herself or the whispers. She slimes over Cloud but ignores him when he tries to be friends because it goes against her agenda. Where's the friendships? We're supposed to believe a few giggles and high fives are friendship? Even in her sidequests she has no secondary character to talk with. It's always just her and Cloud. Everyone else has others there to add something or even just be there.

They may think she's their friend, but they ain't her friends. She don't like nobody. She just uses people.

[woodpengu]

Realizing I'm too heavily conditioned into being made as the thoughtless or insensitive prick of the party for having a condition or issue that can change plans when not considered.

Today was quite possibly the first time the roommates did not cancel ordering food entirely and starve themselves out of spite for making them feel bad about the lack of Wood Pengu-friendly choices. It's a massive improvement I'm celebrating, because it's no one's fault that I can't have BBQ at this time, and I'm beyond carbonized from bearing the guilt that's created by those circumstances.

Point being... if you offer the delivery menu to someone who realizes there's not a real meal available on the menu, get bent at the gods that failed to let them enjoy good food without consequences, not the person or the restaurant. Intolerances, allergies, and sensitivities suck hairy ones and pile enough guilt/shame on. Better responses include:

Shaming whatever deity/entity/spirit you believe in for limiting the person

Asking what on the menu they can have

Offering a different option

Offering to order from two places

Making something for them

Asking them if there's something at the house that they like so they can still sit to dinner with everyone else when the food arrives (serve everything on similar dishware to make it all cohesive)

Everyone eats the trash the house has on hand (as long as the trash doesn't give someone else's issues a flare)

I mean... I still hid behind the fridge door with my knee-jerk tears processing that they were a conditioned response after years of dealing with different responses. And I didn't join the rest at the table because I was embarrassed about the emotions I was dealing with. But the kindness and understanding was a huge improvement from the tantrums.

[ripleyinspace]

Chapter 1 - Intentions

Noah Diaz x Female!OC

Summary: Shaolin, a university student that comes from a tight-knit family, has always kept her nose clean and followed the rules. Aside from her mouth occasionally being her undoing, her mother could always count on her daughter to be the best version of herself: smart, capable, independent. Then came a freckled stranger who turned out to not be as much of a stranger as she thought.

18+!! | Third-person omniscient | AU/AT |  Warnings: Language, Themes of the adoption system, slight classism if you squint, slight age gap (OC 19, Noah 23), Forbidden/sneaky love, secrets, eventual SMUT, not beta'd

Words: 3K

A/N: I update warnings with each chapter. Only proceed if you can handle the themes included in the warnings. This AU probably doesn't satisfy anyone but myself

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know

Chapter List

"Shaolin! Breakfast!" Her mom yelled from the kitchen. Shaolin had woken up later than she wanted, so she didn't make it downstairs before her mom began shouting across the apartment. 

She rushed to put on her clothes and shoes, brush her teeth, and play with her curly hair for a grand total of eight minutes before she decided it was useless. There was no looking cute after sleeping in. "Shao! Hurry up, will ya?" She heard again.

The young woman exited the tiny bathroom in a huff, deciding this day had already gone to shit. Worse: it was exam day in Professor Gordon's class. 

Fuck, I didn't study for shit last night. She panicked in her head. She had, in fact, studied for an hour before getting a phone call from Josie, who had to spend hours complaining about her boyfriend Tyler and the insensitive prick he is for the third time this month. Shaolin knew it didn't matter. Josie would be right back in Tyler's Mustang by noon today.

As Shaolin entered the kitchen, she realized just how late she was. Her brother Lyle had already left for school, and her mom was decked out in her restaurant gear: non-slip shoes, black yoga pants, and her forest green shirt that read 'Pablo's' in big white letters.

"Morning, mamá." Shaolin greeted as she watched her mother elegantly move a hot cast iron pan with her bare, calloused hand. Valeria Morales was the perfect example of an everywoman. She was a mother, the chef at a restaurant she owned and operated, and she still managed to wake up and cook breakfast for everyone with a smile. 

"Buenos dias mija." She replied, holding out a blue plate with chorizo and eggs for her to take. "Eat." 

"I'm already behind schedule, ma," Shaolin said, denying the offering and making a B-line to her bookbag that hung off of her seat at the table. Before she realized she made a wrong move, her mother's eyes went cold and commanded her attention. 

"You have time to eat breakfast," Mom stated, causing her daughter to sit at the chair and take the food without further protest. Her mother continued as she scooped a forkful of red eggs into her mouth. "You need to pick your brother up after practice today, okay? Thomas will be late at the station."

"Lyle's thirteen. Why can't he walk home alone?"

"Because he's thirteen, Shao."

"I was walking home alone when I was ten." Shaolin mumbled as she chewed, which garnered another icy glare from her mom. "Right, different circumstances, I know."

By different circumstances, she meant different neighborhood. Before her grandmother got bad and caused them to move into this place, they lived over in Flushing. Mom was less trustworthy of Downtown Brooklyn, having grown up here and seen the ugly underbelly.

"I'll have Tina take over dinner rush so we can have family night later, okay?" Mom promised as she gathered her purse and kissed her daughter on the head. "I love you."

"I love you too, mamá," Shaolin responded. The second her mother was out the door, the remaining eggs went down the disposal, and she grabbed her belongings, stopping only to assess herself in the mirror by the door one more time and concluding that she still looked like she just rolled out of bed. 

Once Shao was out the door, she was stopped by a man standing in the hall outside her apartment. He smiled at her right away, all perfect teeth surrounded by freckles. She had never seen this dude in her life and had never made an effort to speak to random men, but he seemed like he was about to knock on her door.

"Can I help you?" She asked after she had already caught his attention. He wasn't a bad-looking guy by any means, but she was skeptical of his smile that didn't falter at her question.

"Actually, you probably can. I'm looking for Gloria Morales." He said with an accent that told her he must be from around here. Still, she crossed her arms. 

"My GG? She died a couple years ago. Sorry." Shaolin said, continuing her descent to the stairwell without questioning why he was asking for her, of all people. 

"Damn, I'm sorry." He expressed his remorse before he continued. "How about Valeria? Is she around?" He queried again while he followed at a distance. Though she appreciated him for respecting her space as he followed, she didn't care for his asking about her mother. 

A stranger that knows GG and Mom but doesn't know GG's dead? Who the fuck?

"You just missed her." She slightly snapped. "Who the hell are you, even?"

Judging from the context, he gathered that this was Valeria's daughter. He barely remembered her, only that he was just a bit older than her. He understood her irritation and couldn't help but think of how beautiful she was as she snapped at him.

"My name's Noah Diaz." The man began. "I was fostered by Gloria when I was really young. Too young to really remember, but I did some digging. I was hoping she'd be around." 

Upon hearing this, Shao thought back to all the times she was told about this baby that GG kept when he was born. The baby that somehow made it into all the family albums but never crossed her path. The ah-ha moment was visible as they retreated from the breezeway door onto the sidewalk. 

"Baby Noah? The one adopted by some big-shot up on the upper east side. I've heard about you."

"That would be me," Noah confirmed with another million-dollar grin. He had no idea that they referred to him as that. 

Just as Shaolin thought to give this guy the time of day, she checked her watch and realized the time. 

"Shit, I'm gonna be late. See ya." She spoke abruptly and took off down the sidewalk, clutching her bookbag. 

As Noah watched her figure grow smaller before she turned a corner, he realized he didn't get her name but figured he would get it eventually. After all, they were neighbors now.

Though Shaolin wasn't sure how she did on her exam, she was glad to not be as late as she thought. The rest of her classes for the day went smoothly, also. 

Her relief slowly dwindled when she ran into Josie, who confirmed yet again that she was back with Tyler and it was all a misunderstanding. 

"I don't know why you put yourself through this shit, girl," Shao grumbled as they weaved between cars in the campus parking lot. She didn't want to talk about Tyler anymore, but the unfortunate truth was they never had much else to discuss these days.

Josie and Shaolin had been friends since Freshman year of high school, back when Josie seemed to care about things and shared interests with her. Back when they could truly call each other best friends. 

That all changed when Tyler came into the picture with his car, money, and superiority complex. Josie was head over heels; ever since, it was nothing but a blur of toxicity with their on-again, off-again bullshit.

It was Tyler and Josie who set Shao up with Josh—the cream of the fucking crop, it seemed like. Everything that Shao was taught that she was supposed to be into. Ten-percent body fat, straight teeth, driver's license... wannabe carbon copy of Michael B. Jordan, yet he still had the slimiest personality she'd ever known.

"It's called being soulmates. You always work it out." Josie said, breaking Shao from her thoughts. A cynical snicker forced its way through her lips,

"I don't believe in all that garbage. Boyfriends have done nothing but disappoint me. Only thing is, I don't usually give them a second chance to do it again." She dug.

"Clearly, you've never gotten a proper lay either." Josie returned Shao's energy as the wind whipped her blonde hair around her face and shoulders. 

Yeah, and you'd know that if you bothered to discuss something that wasn't Tyler for fuckin' once.

She used to want to be like Josie, but now? Josie couldn't be further from the person Shao saw herself as. Even if she felt inadequate.

It didn't help that Josie was her only friend if you could even call what they shared a friendship anymore. More than anything, it was Josie who felt that she needed Shao, though she would never admit such a thing.

"Says the girl who went on and on about how Tyler has a choad." Shaolin teased as the pair heard Da Baby blasting in the distance, signaling Tyler's arrival on campus. 

A douche will have douchey taste, after all. Shao thought as the red sports car came into view and stopped for the girl she stood with. Josie turned and shrugged at her,

"I was just mad, okay?" She defended as she opened the car door. The douche in question gave Shao a nod in greeting before pulling off. "Talk soon!" Josie shouted as they started leaving.

On her way home, Shaolin stopped by Lyle's school to walk with him. It was a rare occurrence, given that Tom always made time to pick him up in his squad car and take him home after soccer. They didn't relate much, being six years apart with two different fathers. 

Shao could barely remember her dad personality-wise. She spent time with him when she was little until, one day, he stopped picking her up. Mom always said it was because he ran out of money and didn't want to pay child support anymore.

On the other hand, Lyle's dad was still around and got visitation on weekends. Shaolin used to be jealous of this, even if she would never admit it. Billy loved Lyle, and though Shao attempted to find a father figure in Billy, it just didn't stick.

However, when Tom came into the picture, her life was turned upside-down. The second he showed up, he tried to assert himself as their stepdad. Shao relented and refused to see him that way. He was just Mom's boyfriend to her, and the older Lyle got, the more he saw that also. 

"Hopefully, Officer Blowhard doesn't make it to family night." Lyle cracked, unlooking from his phone as they turned the corner into their street. Shaolin laughed at their inside joke, referring to Officer Tom Billard as Blowhard. 

As their building came into view, she realized her mom had come home early and was having a seemingly jovial chat outside with none other than Baby Noah. Instead of wondering why he was here again, she figured she would ask.

"Still standing around out here, stalker?" She teased on the approach. His curly head turned and smiled at her the second he heard her. Mom didn't seem nearly as pleased about the comment. 

"Be nice, Shaolin!" She snapped slightly. "Have you two already met?"

Noah was about to answer before he realized he had just accidentally learned the girl's name. Shaolin. He decided to use that. 

"Wu-Tang fan?" He asked, directing the question at Valeria, who rolled her eyes. 

"Die-hard when I was seventeen and didn't realize how ridiculous that name would sound later on." She laughed. Noah liked it, though. He barely knew the girl but thought it suited her.

Before anyone knew it, they were all inside the Morales residence, continuing this conversation as Val passed out the Chinese takeout. She wasn't expecting any guests, especially the one she got, but she always ordered extra. 

Between Val and Noah catching up like they were long-lost pals, he would attempt to exchange words with Shaolin, who seemed much less conversational. He took a different approach and looked at Lyle, who didn't appear much older than his little brother. 

"So, what grade you in?" 

"Eighth," Lyle answered shortly, entranced by a video on his phone. Val wised up to this quickly and snapped her fingers over the table. 

"Put it away, or I'll take it." She said with a stone-cold expression that quickly returned to a smile once he slipped the device into his pocket. 

"Oh yeah? Do you like it?" Noah asked, attention still on the boy. Lyle began to nod, but before he could speak, Shao had to take a moment to be the snarky sister. 

"His straight C's say otherwise." She mumbled, picking at her bowl of rice. Expecting the third degree from Val, she was surprised when it became an opportunity to brag about her achievements. 

"Not everyone can be an honor student, Shao." She spoke before turning back to Noah. "Full ride scholarship to CUNY, by the way. We're very proud of her." 

Valeria took every opportunity to boast about her daughter's success, which always made her uncomfortable. This time, however, she couldn't help but notice that Noah was impressed by this and felt good about it. Happy, even, that she didn't have to bring it up herself.

Why the fuck do you care how this guy feels? She thought to herself before snapping back to reality as her mom asked Noah what he was up to these days. 

"I'm a mechanic. Work over in a shop near Bed-Stuy. It's why I just moved here." He explained. "Right next door, actually. 2-C." 

2-C? Shao thought to herself, realizing they were in 4-C. Ms. Lang had just moved out of 2-C. She had been tasked many times with feeding the old woman's fish while she was gone, and as she remembered how her place was mapped—the main bedroom was separated from Shao's room by only a thin wall. Many nights she could hear Andy Griffith reruns while lying in bed.

The room grew suddenly silent as the entrance to the apartment opened, followed by the sound of heavy feet stepping inside. Enter Officer Blowhard: a white-bread man with a beer gut and a receding hairline that was never quite good enough to be a detective. He caught a glimpse of the full table as he walked in and tried to hide a frown. 

"Hey, Val. Kiddos." He greeted before his eyes stopped on Noah. "Who's this?" 

"This is Baby Noah!" Val informed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "One of the kid's my ma used to foster." 

Though Noah did his best to greet Tom politely, as he did everyone, Blowhard stood firm, giving him only a single nod before looking back to Val, who quickly realized that there was no room at the table for him. "There's food up here, hun."

"I'm gonna catch a shower first," Tom replied before double-taking at the stranger, then disappearing into a dark hallway. The awkward silence remained until Noah began to stand up. 

"I think I'ma head out." He announced as he pushed his chair in. "This was wonderful, Val. Thank you."

Valeria's face lit up. "Anytime! It was great to see you." She said as she stood up to hug him goodbye. With her head over Noah's shoulder, she looked at Shao, "Walk Noah out, please, Shao." 

The request was standard for when they had guests around her age, but Shaolin found it absurd since, apparently, Noah lived right next door now. Still, she complied and followed the young man out. 

Nothing was said initially, but Noah started the conversation as he dug into his pocket for his key. 

"CUNY, huh? Whatcha studying?"

"Nursing," Shao answered flatly, trying not to give away that she was ecstatic over his interest. He was almost too handsome for her to believe he was honest as she reminded herself that a guy like this could pretend to be interested for weeks if that's what it takes.

And still, her mind raced with images of him scooping her up or pulling her close and kissing her suddenly. 

You read too many books. Shaolin thought. Don't be a creep.

"It was probably weird between us this morning, asking about your grandmother and all." Noah acknowledged as he turned the key in the door. Shaolin focused on his hand and how strong it looked. Mechanic work will do that. As her throat grew dry, she swallowed and nodded,

"It was bizarre." She agreed with a nervous laugh. His gorgeous grin showed again as the lock clicked. 

"Yeah, can never be too careful around here." He said as his hand wrapped around the doorknob. "A lot of strangers around with bad intentions."

"Sure are," Shao replied, sounding weaker than she intended and immediately feeling panic rush over her. 

But what are your intentions? 

He finally looked up from the knob with his eyes that reminded her of ocean-wetted sand. 

"Don't be a stranger, Shaolin Morales." He spoke confidently, but Shao's previously airless lungs filled back up at the uttering of what he assumed was her last name. The newfound oxygen was expelled quickly as she laughed, which confused Noah. "What's so funny?" he said, laughing a bit to not feel left out. Shao shook her head,

"Jackson." She corrected. "My last name's Jackson, like my dad."

It was Noah's turn to feel a tinge of embarrassment, knowing it made sense as he opened the door to his near-baron apartment. 

"Shit, my bad." He said as he continued to laugh at himself. "Shaolin Jackson." He finished with another broad smile, liking the mouthfeel of it. Shao felt the muscles in her legs tremble at the sound of him saying her name correctly this time. Almost like he noticed, he gave her a wink before walking into his place. "Have a good night."

Once Noah disappeared behind the closed door, Shao thought she would fall over and braced herself on the wall beside her. She never got like this, refused to fall all over herself over any guy, yet here she was. She felt herself sinking into the curiosity of the unknown.

As Shaolin returned home, she caught the end of a conversation between Blowhard and her mom in the kitchen that broke her out of her flustered state. 

"He's a criminal, Val. A criminal just ate dinner in my seat with your kids."

Shao was baffled by what she was hearing and knew she couldn't just eavesdrop, as they must have heard her come back in. She crossed the threshold and eyed them, cocking her head.

"What'd he do?" She asked, gaining Mom's attention from the table. She looked disappointed. 

"Tom recognized him from an arrest he made a few years ago. He stole a car, Shao." She informed. 

"Yeah, took it for a joyride with some friend of his," Blowhard added before returning to Mom. "He's trouble, Val, I'm telling you."

To Shaolin's shock, Val seemed to agree with him on that. Ever since she took over the restaurant from her dad, she's given ex-cons an opportunity for employment at Pablo's when nobody else gave them a chance. The change of heart, all because Blowhard said something, aggravated her.

"I can't do anything about him living next door, but I certainly don't want him around Lyle or in my home again." Mom spoke before pointing at Shao. "I've done everything I can to keep Lyle out of that shit. You know that."

All Shao could do was nod in agreement. She knew her mom always kept her kids out of trouble, even if that meant cutting people off. Her family was different from the restaurant. 

This is it. The excuse you needed to keep your distance.