#<< doesn’t like authority/adults in general

[ukrfeminism]

We’ve been chatting for about half an hour when Eloise lowers her voice to a whisper. Until now she’s been confidently talking through the ups and downs of being a 19-year-old woman in a world she finds unsteady. 

She’s annoyed that, on TikTok, the advertisements she gets are keyrings with rape alarms and “stabby kitties” (a cat-shaped metal keychain with pointed ears sharp enough to cause damage), feels that modern feminism sometimes goes a bit too far, but having grown up in the age of nudes, she doesn’t really trust men. Which is unsurprising considering the story she tells me next.

“So a boy I know was asking a girl at his school for nudes,” she says, quietly. “And then when she refused, he threatened to rape her.” The boy was 14 and had recently posted an Andrew Tate video to his Instagram page, which was Eloise’s first encounter with the online influencer. 

“It said stuff like how women are your property and that it doesn’t matter if women say they’ve been sexually assaulted; if you’re with them that’s your right. I didn’t like it,” she adds.

Tate has made several appearances in the headlines this week. On Tuesday, a Romanian court rejected his appeal to ease the ban on him leaving the country as a legal case against him – in which he’s charged with human trafficking, rape and forming a criminal gang to sexually exploit women – continues. He denies all charges against him. The following day, Ipsos polling for King’s College London’s Policy Institute and the Global Institute for Women’s Leadership found that one in five men aged 16-29 who have heard of Andrew Tate have a positive view of him.

Separately – or, arguably, perhaps not – another survey published in the same week underpinned a renewed focus on the attitudes and beliefs of Generation Z, this time from the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS). The research asked just over 3,000 adults of varying ages – 50.6 per cent of whom were female – about their understanding of rape and serious sexual offences, and the law on consent, and drew troubling conclusions.

Overall, 74 per cent of people surveyed understood that it can still be rape if a victim doesn’t resist or fight back, but the number fell to just over half (53 per cent) of 18-24-year-olds who had the same understanding. Less than half of respondents from this age group recognised that victims might not report a sexual offence to police immediately, that being in a relationship or marriage doesn’t mean consent can be assumed, or that if a man has been drinking or taking drugs, he’s still responsible if he rapes someone. More than 70 per cent of over-65s recognised that even if no physical force is involved a person might not be free or able to consent to sex, compared to just 40 per cent of young people.

Previous generations have become used to hearing that rape myths and misconceptions continue to persist, but that’s precisely why this week’s grim trinity of headlines stings. “There tends to be a public assumption that things are generally always getting better,” says author and feminist campaigner Laura Bates. “Actually, views like these are incredibly widespread among young people.” 

Bates regularly works with schools, talking to pupils who often tell her that “rape is a compliment”, that “it’s not rape if she likes it” or, “it’s your boyfriend, you have to have sex with him”.

She adds: “Attitude surveys have to be taken seriously because they are a real red flag that we’re going backwards – we’re seeing much more extreme and concerning misogynistic attitudes among the youngest generations than we are among the oldest. We have to face up to that and ask, why is that happening?”

Gen Z has never been neatly contained. Growing up as the first digital natives in the chokehold of crisis – climate, Covid, cost of living – has seen them praised for their social awareness, but disenfranchised and forgotten by politics. Their extremely online nature has given them unprecedented access to the world and other people – but, of course, that’s a double-edged sword.

“The internet has made everyone’s voices louder, but that means the most misogynistic people in the world are heard more too,” says Niya Clement-Hickson, a 26-year-old marketing designer from London. He says his generation has been “kind of ruined” by social media.

“You’d be surprised at just how many people around my age will argue that Andrew Tate is not as bad as he seems.”

When I spend an hour talking to 16-year-old Tate fan Manus from Ohio on TikTok, he says exactly that. He’s relatively timid and seems unsure of what he thinks at times, but came across Tate aged 12, being drawn to his motivational speeches, humour, and attitude towards making money. “[Tate] kinda showed me how people really are in reality,” he says. On Tate’s assertions that women are the property of men, he says those beliefs are simply from the Bible (though Manus himself is Muslim).

He maintains he’s never seen Tate speak violently about women, and when I send him leaked voicenote recordings of Tate saying that he enjoyed raping a woman, Manus is certain it’s fake “probably to make him look bad”. I ask for his views on feminism and he responds that feminists now want “superiority” and “more rights”. What rights exactly? “More rights in general,” he says, vaguely.

This opinion is not a rarity – there’s a pervasive idea circling comments sections and pub corners that the pendulum has “swung too far”. “Some of us warned that when you continue to suppress their identity by telling young boys that they are inherently toxic, they’ll start acting irrational,” one comment under an Andrew Tate post this week read. But it’s not just boys who hold this idea. Early last year, a survey from Ipsos UK and the Global Institute for Women’s Leadership at King’s College London echoed this and some of Eloise’s views that feminism has gone too far. They found that 52 per cent of Gen Z and 53 per cent of millennials believe that we’re now discriminating against men. Less than half of Gen Z respondents said they defined themselves as a feminist.

Was it coincidence then, to see that shortly after the research was published in March 2023, the year of the girl was in full swing? A persistently pink summer was punctuated with girl dinners, #tradwives – modern women who believe in traditional gender roles – and stay-at-home girlfriends sharing their daily rituals on news feeds. New York magazine’s The Cut declared it “Woman in Retrograde” as the year came to a close; a cluster of reactionary elements to a significant demise of mainstream feminism.

This shift back to traditional behaviours is also present in younger men, says Niya. “A lot of guys feel that their role is all about providing money, being a protector. But they feel they deserve to get something out of the interaction. They just can’t deal with being told no.”

In terms of consent, does he hear attitudes that put women in danger? “Absolutely,” he replies. Niya didn’t learn about consent in school – “I don’t think it was ever talked about beyond ‘don’t have sex until you’re old enough’” – and thinks this is quite common for men of his age. For Maya, who’s 24 and neurodivergent, the line of consent is difficult to pinpoint and somewhat shaped by social media. There’s a “disconnect” from what she really wants – and is able to articulate – in the moment.

“I think that we do have less and less sex and more and more porn,” Niya adds. “And I think that once porn is your main and in some cases, only engagement with sex and women, then that is going to completely screw up how you see sex.”

Do all roads lead to porn? Probably. Clare McGlynn, who is a professor of law with particular expertise in sexual violence and online abuse, says: “We know that algorithms promote more extreme content, more hate – and many, many younger people, men and women, are getting this. Millions of people, as we speak, are watching mainstream online pornography that is racist, sexist, misogynist and violent in its content. Of course, it’s shaping attitudes and lives.”

“There’s certainly a pressure on young boys and men, for example, to be taking and sharing nudes – they’re part of a culture that is encouraging them to,” McGlynn explains. During a study, she looked at what material was presented on the homepage of popular sites – she found landing pages which were filled with sexually violent material. “So it’s also not them even actively choosing that material; we’re part of a culture that is grooming young men, teaching them expectations around sex – and asking them to accept and normalise it.”

What appears clear from the survey conducted by the CPS is a dangerous lack of understanding of what constitutes a crime. “I do lectures on criminal law and I’ve had students come up to me afterwards and say that they didn’t know they had been sexually assaulted or raped,” McGlynn adds.

Laura Bates says that we’re in the midst of a “crisis of sexual violence among young people”. 

“Deeply misogynistic misinformation is being spread to young people online at a rate that most people just have absolutely no idea about,” she says. “And there is a massive knock-on effect.

“Some will look at these surveys and go, well, what does attitude matter? But you have to draw a connection between these really worrying attitudes about rape and the fact that nearly 80 per cent of young people told Ofsted inspectors recently that sexual assault is normal and common in their friendship groups.”

So what can be done? More responsibility and accountability from social media companies, says Bates. Tate’s content – some of which reportedly shows him attempting to beat a woman with a belt; she later hides behind a locked door – has been viewed more than 11 billion times on TikTok, she says, adding: “That’s more than the population of the planet.” Last year, advocacy group HOPE found that more 16-17-year-old boys had watched Tate’s content than had heard of Rishi Sunak. “I think it’s really important that the government supports high quality, age-appropriate sex and relationships education,” she adds. 

Actively listening to and engaging with boys – as seen in initiatives like the state of New York’s Starting the Conversation campaign – is also important. Boys must have a safe and judgement-free environment to express themselves: the more their experiences of rape culture are internalised, the more difficult they are to see.

The Online Safety Bill, which was enacted in October last year, she says, was a missed opportunity for change. While it asks for more transparency on social media platforms and imposes sanctions for those not following the act, along with criminalising cyberflashing and sending unsolicited nude images, “it went 250 pages without mentioning women and girls once, until campaigners changed that”, Bates says.

“It’s so much more effective to focus on prevention of radicalisation than trying to unpick it once it’s happened,” she says. “Young people really are prepared to listen and prepared to change their minds, it’s just a shame this isn’t happening in every school.”

“It does make me worried about how safe the world is going to be,” says Eloise, who will begin her twenties in the summer. “What if people really start thinking that women are property again?” Then, she’s quiet again. “I really hope it can change.”

#Articles #community #MVAWG

[prettyboykatsuki]

HOW TO BE A DOG. | S. GOJO

⊹ general tags ; fem + afab!reader, reader presents femininely and has some specific character traits (i.e. personality traits, nothing physical), reader is shorter / smaller than gojo but nothing specified, reader is a teacher, gojo carries reader at some point (but he is canonly able to do very insane things physically so)

⊹ content warnings ; dead dove. do not eat, yandere gojo satoru, manipulation, stalking, obsessive behavior, delusional behavior, workplace harassment (not from gojo), victim blaming, canon typical violence, graphic depictions of murder, minor character death, excessive religious imagery, coercion, gaslighting, abuse of power, something akin to stockholm syndrome, graphic depiction of noncon / sexual content, forced intimacy, fingering, hickies / bruises, begging, edging, loss of virginity, size kink, 18+.

all sexual content present in part two.

⊹ wc ; 17.3k / 36.1k

link to extended authors note | ao3 | how to be a dog, by andrew kane.

LINK TO PART TWO

⊹ a/n ; well. its here. i wont ramble too much but i hope you enjoy and if you dont...well don't tell me. thank you to ame for your endless patience. likes and reblogs mean the world. the title is inspired by the poem linked.

⊹ synopsis ; with six eyes to see it becomes clear, you are being watched.

“Of course you must learn to love, to love always and love entirely and to be wounded by nothing so much as the violence of your own love.” - andrew kane, how to be a dog.

⊹ PART ONE : A CHILD BORN IN WINTER MUST NOT LONG FOR SPRING.

There’s a dog living outside of Gojo’s apartment. It’s a collarless, lonely thing. Clever, too. 

Though, Gojo doesn’t know much about its life before it started hanging around the area, he gets glances on occasion. It’s not emaciated and it doesn’t look hungry, but it’s roughened up with matted fur and a healed tear in one ear. 

More importantly, it doesn’t bother anybody in the neighborhood. Despite its outward appearance and hostility when approached, its aggression won’t go farther than a warning bark or growl. Most of the adults living in the building know better than to try, but some of the kids living upstairs desperately attempt to befriend it. Of course they fail, and Gojo thinks that that poor thing is growing apathetic to the touches of sticky hands. 

The whole building is pretty fond of it, surprisingly. Gojo lives in a upend complex in a metropolitan part of Tokyo and the people here can be snobbish. So it comes as a shock that this dog wasn’t shooed away months ago. 

Everyones sort of agreed to take care of it. There’s a food and water bowl outside of the security office - and just last week a sign was implemented of Do’s and Don’ts for what food scraps can be left. There’s a donation box to get some proper shots and paperwork - since it looks like the building's doorman has agreed to take it in if everyone chips in for the expenses.

(Gojo suspects this has something to do with those very kids, devastated by the thought of it being gone.)

Warm welcomes from the residents aside, Gojo hasn’t seen it act friendly before. He wonders about that.  It seems hesitant to trust anyone and he’s sure there's a good reason. It’s just that it's clever. To be a stray in this area of Tokyo and be so calm is an impressive feat, so he thinks it probably has some grasp of his own situation. If it acted cuter, it could get a warm house and family too. Though the whole aloof and distant thing does the job just fine, Gojo can’t help but wonder what such a clever creature is doing, turning away from living lavishly. 

Much like everyone else, Gojo’s contributions have come in the form of food scraps and some donation money to work towards the 5,000 yen goal. On the occasion their paths cross, Gojo sits near it. Sometimes, they share a moment of silence and Gojo talks just to see if it’ll ignore him. It seems like it’s listening. It always makes a grunt of dismissal when Gojo turns to leave and he’s started to count that as a little victory. 

Gojo isn’t intrigued by anything as much as that dog. At least not lately. It’s damn near impossible to seriously pique his interest and yet that clever fellow is one of the few things he stops to ponder at. 

Today, Gojo is intrigued by the dog that lives on the street of his apartment and the strange woman who’s petting it like some sort of domesticated baby.

He’s very, very intrigued by that. 

The rain comes down in heavy sheets. It’s a Wednesday, and he has no classes to teach so he’s home and preparing to run errands. He’s going about his day as usual, basically. When Gojo isn’t swamped with a mission or the reformation of Jujutsu Society - he likes to play the part of the average man. 

The plan for today was to take his unused car out of the lot so he could get some dry-cleaning done, go buy a new pair of sunglasses because his old ones are scratched, and go do some shopping. He needs to buy groceries again ( an uncommon occurrence) so that one's on the list too. 

He’s dressed down. A black windbreaker is hanging over his shoulders, tight gray shirt and some comfortable jeans. He’s got on his errand shoes, a nice pair of sneakers and his keys are hanging from a loop in his belt. His hair is styled down and he’s got on his glasses instead of his typical mask.

He has a gameplan, a fully fleshed out expectation of how today will go, and it’s derailed by a woman he’s never seen before. He’s drawn to you so naturally it’s baffling. 

You’re crouched just in front of the security office. Dressed in a loose skirt and long sleeves, looking down by the local neighborhood stray. For the first few seconds, he just lingers on in utter awe. You’re carrying a comically cute umbrella, clear with flowers and a pink edge. He kind of thinks you look like a peony. 

He approaches slowly, quietly. 

When he finally gets close enough to really see, he can hardly believe his eyes. That old, menacing mutt is happily getting his chin scratched by you. 

“Oh, uhm. Hello?” 

The sound of your voice startles him out of his trance. Snapping back to reality, he glances down to where you are and realizes he’s towering over you. In an effort to be polite, he steps back and gives you his most disarming smile. 

“Hi. Sorry for the intrusion, I was just,” He glances at the dog who almost looks offended at the interruption “I noticed you were… petting this dog. Guess I was a little surprised.” 

“Surprised?” 

And your surprise surprises him even more. He blinks slowly. 

“Yeah. He’s not aggressive or anything but uh,” Gojo chuckles, concluding you must be a little new “Well, he’s not exactly friendly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone succeed in well…petting him.” 

You’re taken aback by this information. Yeah, definitely new. 

“Really?” You glance at Gojo before looking back down at it “I just gave him some treats and waited a bit. He’s such a sweetie. Sure you mean this dog?” 

Gojo gets a good laugh out of that. Partially at your cluelessness and partially at your disbelief. He nods, smiling a little. 

“I’m very sure, actually. He must really like you,” He says, hands in his pockets. He bends down to join you, but he’s still a little bigger than you at that height “I guess I can see why. You’re pretty friendly.” 

You peek over at him. You seem a little shy at the compliment. Gojo feels his interest pique a second time today alone. New record. 

“Oh, uh. Thank you. I teach kindergarteners so I sort of have to be.” 

He hums. Reaching his hand towards the dog, who sniffs and cuddles his palm (something it’s never done before) in order to win your favor more. It really is a clever little thing, just like he’d always suspected.

“I’m a teacher too. A highschool teacher, though. No need for me to be friendly, I guess.” 

You laugh at his joke, smile reaching your eyes as you hug your knees to look at him.

“You seem plenty friendly to me.” 

He pretends to think about it. 

“Maybe you have a gift for making people come out of their shell,” He says with sincerity, relishing in the fact he’s finally getting to pet the dog in any capacity “I think this little guy could probably attest to that.”

“And you have a knack for flattery.” You quip. 

The natural chemistry is noticeable enough for it to catch Gojo off-guard. He grins. 

“Hey. I’m not all bad. And what's flattery if I’m being honest right?” 

“Sounds like something a flirt would say,” You tease, airy. He laughs a little. 

“You seem like you’re having fun giving me a hard-time.” He pouts. You giggle. 

“A little,” 

“Jeez. How rude of you…” He waits, prompting your name. You smile. 

You give him your name. You say it soft and easy. He makes sure to return to the favor. 

“And yours?” 

“Gojo Satoru.” 

__

You live up to your first impression in the time that Gojo gets to know you as his neighbor. 

Friendly. The word he’s looking for is friendly. 

There’s other words though. Sometimes meek, typically cheery, oftentimes quiet. You’re quite unassuming, and possibly too gentle when compared to everyone else in the general area. You fit in fine, no worries there. And Gojo knows that for certain because he can’t stop himself from watching over you like a hawk. 

He doesn’t really understand it himself. Gojo gets along with everyone. He’s always been a people person who likes to talk and likes to get to know strangers. There’s nothing that special about your connection in that way. You live next to him, directly across the hall.  You often knock on his door to give him something that you’ve made too much of or ask to borrow some sugar 

And it’s not done with any romantic intent. Gojo is good at reading people. He’s never seen someone so blatantly  romantically uninterested in him. You’re not even conscious of him as a man, cemented to him  by the one time you came to the door dressed in paper-thin PJ’s. He hasn’t recovered from the shock. One of the many times in his life where he was grateful no one could see where he was looking. 

He’s had a few months since your first meeting to get an idea of your personality and what things about you he should keep in mind. You noticed that he’s often not in his house, so you’re relatively aware of your surroundings. You’re often up late because your lights are always on well into the evening. 

(He finds out later you’re usually making lesson plans or little gift bags or planning birthdays. You really love your job, something he can commend while simultaneously  feeling quite jealous about.) 

You favor the lovely spring colors like pink and purple because you have so much of it always on you. You dress brightly in general. And you smile, often, and stumble over yourself trying to be nice to the other tenants. The kids in the building adore you. The sheer amount of propositions you’ve received to be someone's full-time nanny could probably keep you employed for another two decades. 

And you always put your best into everything, no matter what. 

This is probably the aspect Gojo is most fascinated by. It’s not exactly a novel trait. He’s encountered something like it before. One of his most prized students is Maki Zenin. Her whole thing is kicking ass through sheer spite. 

But unlike his students or anyone else he knows - you don’t seem to be motivated by spite or anger or frustration. Even when you are angry or upset - you always force yourself into being more understanding. Into being nice, kind, and still giving it your best if you’ve been shorted somehow. He’s tempted to call you a try-hard. It draws on the line of people pleasing sometimes but it doesn’t matter either way. This is a quality in you Gojo likes all the same. 

He's always been drawn to people who are earnest. His company favors such things. He cherishes Yuuji for such a reason, and can say something similar for Nanami. It’s a refreshing perspective. He’s not a bitter person, but he’s not an earnest one either. So Gojo likes that you’re so properly, gently sincere. 

For the last few months he’s made a real effort to talk to you. So he’s not just the guy next door, but at least an acquaintance and at best a distant friend. On the mornings you both have classes to teach, he walks you to your car and if he wakes up before you - he’ll bring you a cup of coffee or a pastry he knows you enjoy.  

You’ll often do Gojo little favors and he’ll return them - joking to each other about being a good neighbor. An inside joke with each other that Gojo is growing increasingly fond of, all together with leftover cups of coffee and glances that linger too long. Some mornings, he takes out your trash when you’re feeling too tired and you’ll do him the favor of getting the stuff out of his clothes that he doesn’t want to dry-clean. 

It’s these little exchanges that make up the bulk of your interactions. 

He’s even been to your apartment (another reason he’s sure you’re not attracted to him). He went last week to help you cut out little autumn leaves to put on your classroom walls, and you rewarded him with some lemonade. 

He’s still thinking about it days later, how you sit on your legs and the way your cardigan hangs off your shoulder. When you’re focused, you leave your mouth open a bit and poke your tongue through your lips. He’s endeared by it. 

 By you in general.

It’s all boring and mundane, but that’s what makes it. It’s a luxury he rarely affords. Craves, really, which is why he’s starting to go straight home more often than not.

It’s nice that you’re always there. That you’re usually home and when you’re not - Gojo doesn’t have to guess too hard about where you are. It’s so constant. He basks in the feeling of constancy like an expensive silk. 

It’s little luxuries like that, he thinks, that make you so special to Gojo without much effort on your behalf. Being up at the top means he is always fascinated by the place closest to the ground. 

What’s heaven to a man born there?

__ 

In your fourth official month of residence, the neighborhood dog finally gets adopted. 

He’s not there for the big reveal. He hears it from you while he’s on a mission, through a text message and a photo. He acquired your number early on, but you’ve only started doing these text exchanges recently. Reason being Gojo’s had an unusual amount of cases that need his attention and you’ve been very aware of his absence.  

(The first time you texted Gojo after 3 days on the other side of the country, he was scarily happy. After all, most times when he leaves - people are expecting his return.  There’s an assurance that he will return alive, that he has to. It’s not often people worry.

It was another thing he learns about himself through you. Being fussed about is refreshing.) 

Currently, he’s all the way down in Nagasaki. He’s been investigating what the local government has described as an “infestation in the water,” leading to poison and all sorts of hallucination. It’s been causing all of the local hospitals to fill up and the news is advising people to distill their water if possible when at home. Make sure to buy bottled, and double check on your children. 

In other words, there’s an unidentified curse wreaking havoc in small towns and rural areas at an unusually fast rate and Gojo has been sent to figure out its origin. What’s really weird is the location. He’s in Nagasaki prefecture, specifically in Hasami - a town in the Higashisonogo district. He really didn’t have much time to do research on the area, save for a few quick google searches and probing questions to his student, the well traveled Yuta Okkutsu who is a hair more familiar with the region than he is. 

But there wasn’t much for him to find. Hasami is known for the porcelain it produces. The population is a little under 15,000 and the weather is nicer in spring than it is in summer where it gets too humid. It’s considered a small town, though that number is relative in consideration, and currently the local officials are sending off reports about the water supply. 

Even when doing deep research using official means, there was nothing that unusual about the place. No major criminal incidents or occult presence or some other thing that would make this occur naturally. Gojo is no stranger to small town violence or bullying and they can often produce the most volatile curses.

But he’s currently on his 3rd day here, where he’s taken up talking with the locals and he can’t find any specific attitude that would foster a special grade. 

It had led him to a conclusion,  but one he was deliberately avoiding. That someone planted the curse here in Nagasaki, or maybe somewhere else. Which really complicates the whole affair, because then this is an investigation and not just a situation of fate. It also means that this curse was likely harvested somewhere and that Gojo can’t be sure it’ll be easy to get rid of. 

Most importantly, all that fanfare means he’ll be home late. 

Given how much he’s longing to see you, it’s the thing he’s been dreading most. 

It’s weird. He’s never dying to see anyone, with the exception of an old friend long gone. But Gojo has been desperate to see you for the few weeks he’s been away from home. 

(He can’t tell if it’s normal to long this much for a person he truthfully doesn’t know that well.) 

But, while he’s away from home, the thoughts of you play on loop in his head. Like white noise, static yet constant -  there, all the same.  As he walks the rainy streets of Hasami, hands in his pockets - he can’t help but wonder when the next time he gets to see you will be

It’s like some sort of miracle (aren’t you always one?) when Gojo hears his phone ring, buzzing against his abdomen. 

He’s drawn back into reality when he feels it. In front of a store that sells handmade plates and glasses, he lets it go for a while. Feels it buzz against his pocket while he settles his thoughts. He examines his surroundings,  notices the cars, and the mother with her daughter across the street and the gray sky - all before he picks it up. Your name flashes him on screen, and something itches deep in his chest.

The clouds open up. And it’s still raining, but there’s a ray of sunlight cutting through them. For a minute Gojo feels worldly, grinning with damp skin before he slides his thumb across the phone. 

You’ve never called him before. 

“Hello?” He greets, wondering if it was an accident. Then you come through the other side of the line.

“Hi ~,” You say, clearly doing something in the midst of talking “How’ve you been?” 

“I’ve been alright. Very shocked you called me, yanno?”

You laugh quietly. 

“Sorry about that. I just wanted to check in. And I wanted to say thank you.” 

“I mean… I’ll accept but I feel like I should know what for.” He jokes. Your tone goes sincere, marshmallow soft and twice as sweet. 

“You paid the rest of the fees for the dog out of pocket, didn’t you?” 

He smiles to himself.

“Ah. Busted. That was supposed to be a secret between me and Mr. Security-Man,” 

“He didn’t tell me. I just…guessed. Seems like something you’d do.” 

His first instinct is to disagree.

“It’s not like I did it out of the goodness of my heart, okay? It was looking a little sad sleeping during the cold seasons. It was very pitiful. So bad, so sad.” 

“Why’d you do it?” You ask, probing but not too deeply “Like… really. It was really nice of you, but it was a couple thousand and that can’t be cheap.”

He relents, head leaning back on the wall behind him. 

“The kids, remember?” He murmurs, eyes staring up at the gray clouds “You said they’d be sad if the dog didn’t get adopted soon.” 

“The way you’re talking about it makes it seem like you’re doing this for me.” 

“And if I was? Would that bother you, hm?” 

You wait a minute, hesitating with your words. 

“Well…no. I guess not, I just—thank you. I guess I’m just a little… embarrassed about it or whatever.” 

“Shy, huh? Cute.”

“Jeez,” You huff. Gojo can practically hear your grinning from the other side; it makes his heart flutter. He wants to go home, to wherever you are “And you always say you’re no flirt.” 

“I’m not a flirt. I’m just telling it how it is.” 

“Yeah? Well, thanks anyway then. It made them really happy. You should’ve been there to see it. Maybe you can tell them when you get back?” 

“Don’t wanna.” He states outright. 

“You didn’t even think about it!” You exclaim.

“Mm, because I don’t have to. I definitely don’t want them to know.” 

“Why not, though? You’d be their hero, y’know? 

Maybe it’s something in the air. The damp weather out closer to the ocean, or the distance between you. There’s a tiny echo in your words, mechanical through the speakers. The word hero leaves a melancholy in his mouth, floating in the back of his throat like liquor refusing to go down. He chuckles. 

“Ooo, are you into that kinda thing? Like, super charming knights in shining armor? Or superheroes, maybe?” 

You giggle on the other side of the line. If you notice him avoiding answering you, you have the courtesy not to say anything.

“Isn’t everyone? I don’t know. I think if a really good-looking guy saved my life, it’d probably make my heart race a little, yeah. I’d catch feelings over that for sure.” 

He takes a deep breath. Everything smells like rain. 

“Is that so?” He says, chest blooming with warmth “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

__

Gojo returns from his mission empty-handed. 

He was out there for a long time, at least longer than usual when he’s traveling for a mission. He’s not used to hitting so many dead ends. The problem kept growing, but every trail he’d uncovered went cold in about a day. Just before he gave up hope, he was called in by Yagi. Since the issue has spread into other parts of the city, it’s no longer his solo jurisdiction. 

More hands on meant more time for Gojo to be teaching. It also meant that he would finally see you after so long. You waited for him outside the day he returned to Tokyo - wearing a cream colored sweater and the prettiest smile Gojo had ever laid eyes on. 

Gojo returns from his mission empty-handed but it’s not entirely pointless. Upon returning - he had a somewhat shallow epiphany about the way you make him feel. About the way he’s affected by you, which is arguably more valuable than some lead.

Being away from you for so long is something that makes him so irritable. He’s had some time between then and now to come into terms with it. 

Falling back into his routine, it was obvious. Suddenly there was a gap he’d never noticed before that blew wide enough for him to fall through. He actively avoids not seeing you if he can, and ever since your permissive conversation a few weeks ago - it’s harder to notice the way his desires fester. 

There’s not much he wants out of his life. So when anything noteworthy pops up, Gojo is always eager to get a hold of it before it’s too late. 

He usually soothes that by reminding himself of your position as a civilian, a kindergarten teacher at that. The responsible thing to do is make sure you’re safe. To play the hero from the sidelines and ensure you don’t encounter anything from his line of work. That’s his whole life's work. To create a life like that, and it helps to stay on that path when he believes you’re sheltered from that reality. 

That’s why, when you tell Gojo you can see curses, he feels the entire floor collapse from underneath his feet. 

He receives such devastating news over a cup of coffee at that.

It’s closing in to Fall slowly and Gojo has decided to take you out to eat as an apology for his disappearance. He intended to give you another half-truth about his job so you wouldn’t lose any sleep over him. 

When it happens, it’s less that you tell him, and more that you keep glancing. Just over his shoulder, with this terrified expression that Gojo couldn’t not notice, even if he tried. 

You’ve got your hands around a warm drink, in a white, ceramic mug but your gaze keeps diverting to the place behind him. When he looks over to that same place, a curse is there. Small. More insignificant than a bug, but there. 

It’s risky to mention it. Because if Gojo is wrong, it’s not something he can brush off. He’d have to come up with something to excuse himself, and he isn’t sure how to lie out of that (even with his natural disposition of being a trickster.) But when you keep looking, his instinct kicks in. There’s no way you aren’t seeing it. 

He doesn’t ask you directly. That’d be too incriminating, so he lowers his tone. Watches you briefly as you tremble in fear. 

(A small, small  part of him is only asking because he doesn’t like how distracted you are from him. Killing the curse seems like it’d relieve that annoyance too.)

“Can you see it…?” 

The question makes you jump out of your skin. You reel back, eyes widened before the realization really sets in. 

“....It?” 

Gojo looks around the cafe for a minute, to make sure no one is listening before he turns around and points to the cursed spirit behind him. 

“It,” He says, thumb pointed at the deformed curse moaning in one of the booths. 

When it dawns on you that Gojo sees what you see, you cup a hand over your mouth in shock. He can’t describe the way getting that confirmation feels. It raises so many questions about who you are. More than he had before, at least. 

No longer are you the innocent, clueless civilian and that changes every interaction he’s had with you since the start. Though it’s not uncommon for people who can see curses to fall through the cracks, he can feel his own curiosity dig into his skin like seeds taking root. He doesn’t think he should be excited, but he is. 

He’s excited watching your fearful tremble. He’s never seen you like that.

“Yes,” You say, voice a little shaky this time “I can see… it.” 

He takes the spoon out of his latte and cleans it with his mouth. Studying your expression momentarily, he takes a deep breath before standing to his feet. The terror is so subtle, the kind he can only catch because he’s so familiar.. He knows those emotions better than he knows most. 

Curses aren’t phobias. Not illusions or ghosts, but tangible madness. Impactful to those who can see it, but nothing to those who can’t. Fear like that, which can’t be shared with anyone, has a specific look when it shows up in someone. Gojo hasn’t felt that fear since he was very, very little. He watches curses with the same bland expression he might watch a horror movie, but he can understand your reaction at least.  He knows it like the back of his hand. All the people he’s saved, who could see them too, always wore the same one. 

Still, he’s caught off guard. He feels bad that you’re scared. But the proximity between you and him which was once oceans wide has decreased significantly in no time at all. That feels good. Even better than he would’ve imagined. 

“Are you scared?” He questions intently, maintaining a sense of neutrality.

You swallow a lump in your throat, eyes glued to the table in front of you.

“Yes,” 

Your voice is a hoarse whisper. The corners of his lips twitch upward. 

When he’s sure no one is looking, he stands up and walks over to the table behind him. Pretending to look for something so he doesn’t look out of place. It doesn’t take more than a second to destroy it. It’s tiny, something he’d never think of fighting since it’s so harmless. The curse equivalent to a fly. 

He gives it a violent death and sees you look on with horror in your expression. He finds himself pleased with that, wiping his hands on his pants before returning. Maybe you recognize his strength when he sits back down. Still, instead of pulling away again, you fold your hands in your lap. 

“T-Thank you,”

He grins at you. 

“Of course,” He says  “Can I ask you something?” 

You nod your head and sip your tea. 

“Do you know who I am?” 

You look confused.

“...Are you a celebrity?” 

He laughs hard at that. Hearing that makes him not want to tell you. 

“I’m Gojo Satoru,” He reintroduces. You nod slowly “I’m a sorcerer.” 

Another lie of omission. The strongest, he should say. He takes a sip of his latte, frowning at the bitterness. Through his mask, he watches as you fiddle with your hands. He stacks the empty creamer cups together before opening two more sugar packets and stirring them. 

“A sorcerer…” You look perplexed. Confusion settles into the lines of your face. Sheltered, Gojo concludes. Only parents, who shelter you wouldn’t tell you what a sorcerer was despite your ability to see them “What does that… mean exactly?” 

“It means I kill curses for a living” He replies simply. 

“I thought you were a high school teacher.” 

He smiles. 

“Smart cookie. I am, but the school I teach at specializes in cursed technique and sorcery.”

“Oh.” 

You look befuddled. 

Gojo thinks he might be an opportunist. 

“Do you really not know anything about them? It’s rare for people to be able to see them and not know anything about them.”

You shake your head, eyes peering into your drink. He watches how the image reflects in your eyes.

“Uhm. Not really. My parents told me to do my best to stay away from it. We lived in the countryside but I had to move out into the city for work so I kept… running into them. I can’t like… kill them. And I don't always see them.” 

“You can’t use cursed techniques?” 

“I guess that’s what that is. I don’t think I can, no.” 

Vulnerable. 

“Hmm. What circumstances,” He says, purposeful in weaving concern in his words. 

“Is it that bad…?” 

Not really. His job and the job of his peers is to make sure civilians make as little contact with curses as possible. There are more people like you, and because curses feed off of negative emotions - many dangers can be shafted by just not reacting. Even so, it’s customary for people to have some semblance of protection. A weapon if nothing else, for anyone who can see them.

“Do you carry anything with you?” 

“Like a weapon? I have mace for when I take the train late at night.” 

“Not that kind of weapon,” He says gracefully. He can tell you’re out of your element, and some small and twisted part of him would like to keep you in the fateful dark.

“What other kind would there be?” 

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” He half answers. Your frown deepens. He puts his palm over the top of his coffee cup but doesn’t feel any warmth “Aw, don’t be like that. I’m just teasing. You’re always so calm and collected, I was surprised to see how scared you got, you know?” 

“Everybody gets scared sometimes.” 

“Mm,”

His non-committal response leaves you nervous again. Fidgeting with the edge of your cup or the loose threads in the sleeves of your clothes. What a bundle of nerves you are. Gojo puts all the comfort he can in his voice, dredging up some sense of sincerity.

“Well, since it scares you and I’m such a nice guy, I’ll protect you if you get into any trouble.” He says, snapping his fingers and pointing at you.

That makes you relax. Makes your shoulders droop, a smile gracing your pretty face. Gojo can feel the floor underneath him sinking as you tease him. His eyes trace the curve of your neck. He’s glad you can’t see him or where they look. 

“Oh, what? Are you gonna come running every time I need help?” 

He smiles. 

“I’ll be your personal Superman.” He promises, making a silly expression trying to make you laugh. It feels good when he succeeds, the weight of his words softened by it. If you feel how heavy the comment is, it doesn’t show up on your face. 

You snort, taking a sip of your drink and there’s something so kind in your expression that Gojo aches over. 

“That right?” You hum, smiling over the edge of your ceramic mug “You’re my hero.”

__ 

Since then, Gojo’s kept quite busy.

The last time he saw you at all was at the diner a few weeks prior and little has been different since then. You send more nervous messages than before, but aside from that things are the same.

He’s done a good job, he thinks. Partly of ensuring you, partly of instilling healthy fear. Your eyes always widen like you’re caught off guard by his comments - sometimes washed away with a laugh but other times genuine. Gojo likes to keep you on your toes. A  bit of harmless fun and endlessly amusing. 

Gojo would be there to protect you just like he promised before, so even scaring you isn’t something he thinks of as bad. It’s not untrue that you should be a little more vigilant, but just telling you to do so is no easy feat. 

He would like to be spending time with you today just the same as he has before, but he’s home alone instead. There’s been a brief reprieve between cases so he’s on his own to unwind. There’s nothing he wants to do, so he decides on a movie. 

Gojo is the only one of his friends who still has cable TV. According to Shoko it’s a luxury purchase but for him it’s one less choice he has to make when coming home to relax.

It’s an American film on now, some psycho-killer classic that he’s already seen a handful of times with Japanese subtitles. 

None of the lights are turned on, so the TV illuminates the room in flashes of color. He grabs a soda from his steel-gray fridge and cracks it open, listening to the soft fizz that comes to a slow halt. Pulling it to his mouth, he travels slowly back to his couch. The leather squeaks under the weight of his body. The weight of his back creates a divet that he can be comfortable in. He rests his head, glancing back again at the screen. 

A scream rips through the house, agitating his every nerve. He picks up his remote and turns it down just a tad before watching the movie with a sort of disinterest. Horror movies aren’t his favorite, admittedly. He pretends he scares easily, but the opposite is true. Gojo has seen too much for it to be entertaining, no less scary. 

He likes movies based on their creative merit. He’ll watch one on its creative merit. 

But to be scared? For frights? Not really. Very little gets his heart pumping hard like that. Sometimes the storytelling is good. Other times there’s something cathartic about the formulaic death. The final girl, the call from inside the house. The dependable and clean ending of tropes. Even if it’s messy or sinister, it’s fantastical. Fictitious and detached. 

Gojo enjoys that. For anyone else, it’s probably a twisted way to think about it but to Gojo it only feels natural. He doesn’t examine that detachment very deeply. He’s just aware of it, lingering in the back of his head. 

He takes a long sip of his drink. The sickly sweet taste slowly coats his mouth. Fizzy and smooth, it goes down easily. He sits up in his seat, making himself comfortable as he tries to pay attention to the movie. The main girl is hiding in the bathroom, and the killers' steps are echoing through the house. The broken, somber string instruments in the background, fill the white noise with apprehension and terror. 

Gojo doesn’t feel a chill down his spine. His eyes are still fixed on the screen though, with slight anticipation of what's next even though he already knows. It’s nearing the end and he’s seen this movie before. She’s not going to make it, and Gojo knows that. 

He watches intently in spite of that. The door bursts open and there’s a knife in her chest - and screams. It’s horrific and ugly, blood-spattered and graphic. 

He doesn’t flinch until the whole way through.

It’s brief, but the thought passes his mind. Lately, the only thing that Gojo seems to react to is you.

But he doesn’t think about it too deeply. There’s no need to. 

The TV goes to commercial and Gojo realizes he’s finished his soda. He stands back up, onto his feet to toss the can and grab another. This time, he grabs some snacks too. Piles them onto a plate, dried meats, and something mildly sweet for after before he returns to his living room. Sitting back down on his couch, he scrolls through his phone for anything interesting but comes up short of any results. 

He sits up a little straighter as the next movie plays. 

__

Spending time around curses is a necessary part of the learning experience.

Things you can’t learn in all the lessons and tutoring in the entire world. Even though Jujutsu Tech exists, and even given Gojo’s lineage - when he started working officially, he didn’t know everything. You can’t. No matter to what extent you study, there’s some things that you can only gauge through experience. Going through something over and over, like muscle memory.

Gojo spent a lot of his life wanting it to make sense. Wanting curses and the way they showed up to make sense. This is a lesson in truth, divine truth you can only take up in experience. Curses are human emotions, which means that they are finicky and everywhere. And the dangers of them will always look like the aftermath of destruction. 

Sometimes, there’s nothing you can do to prepare for why things happen. It’s why Gojo is always grasping for light where he can find it. 

Gojo Satoru stands in an empty parking lot all the way in Osaka. He examines the sight in front of him and can’t find anything he’s learned to prepare for what's next. 

Fog has rolled in thick clouds over every inch, limiting his vision. The air tastes of smoke, and the earth underneath him is damp. The wet concrete squeaks under the weight of his shoes as he takes in the surroundings. The parking lot of an animal hospital, in particular - where all the staff were reported to have fallen unconscious. After being rolled out by the proper authorities and after all the animals were moved into a different location - Gojo was left to examine the remnants of the incident. 

The reports are similar all across the country. Not the location. but the symptoms. People falling sick and ill. The initial reports of a water-borne illness didn’t progress far past the first city. It’s evolved since then. People get sick, pass out and hallucinate and animals lose all control. 

The aftermath isn’t very messy so luckily it doesn’t attract too much attention. There’s no bodies, or blood - nothing  heinous thereafter. The effects appear later in the people affected, taken over by an unnamed madness that appears to turn their internal experience to ruins. Gojo would’ve preferred the first situation. Violence like that becomes easy to digest with enough exposure. 

These kinds of symptoms are always hard to stomach. Civilians get answers that placate them. The truth is that there's something bigger out there at play and they were just so unlucky to bear witness to the terror. With altered memories and the badge of trauma, what they don’t know can’t hurt them. 

Gojo knows though, and sometimes he envies their ignorance.

He makes his way into the building. A set of glass doors greets him when he turns the sidewalk, with a blinking sign. Osaka Animal Hospital is written at the top in neon, accompanied by the words 24hr service. Gojo only glances at it briefly before sighing, hands on the bar to push himself through the heavy glass doors. He has to lean some of his weight to get through, and there’s just another set beyond those where he has to do the same. 

Then, he’s inside. 

The presence of the curse and of cursed energy ignites familiar caution within him. It’s here, in some capacity - or it was recently. The perpetrator is here too. Why that is, Gojo can’t quite understand. It seems a little backwards to linger here after everyones been evacuated and there’s no doubt someone would come to investigate. 

All Gojo can think is that maybe they weren’t expecting him. But by now, they must know he’s there too. Gojo’s presence is intentionally oppressive - by nature it must be. Now it’s a waiting game, a quiet one at that. 

Hospitals are always echoey and this one is no different. The squeak of his boots bounces off the walls as he takes steps towards the receptionist desk just to see if he’ll find anything. 

He leans over it, to stare at the left over records - untouched by the authorities. Everything looks like it was left in a hurry. Strew pens and a corded phone just barely back in place - with computers on a blue idle screen. All the daily documents are still out sitting on the desk with no organization to indicate they’ve been filtered through. No paper clips or post-its telling the next person working about what to do. 

Instead of walking behind the counter, he climbs over it with relative ease. Once he’s behind it, he takes better note of his surroundings. He doesn’t find anything completely relevant. There’s painting of animals, and some certifications for bills of health as well - but nothing that warrants his attention. He redirects through the papers in front of him, coming across a stack unexamined. Those answer sheets they give you to fill out so they can assess the situation before meeting you. 

They’re split into two piles it looks like, though that could just be some coincidence. Still, he flips through them. Directing his attention to the little comment box with the prompt what are you being seen for? 

It’s nothing serious. Normal things an animal owner would be upset or worried about like bowel movements and eating something that shouldn’t have been consumed. A minor injury or a worrisome behavior - but nothing that sticks out. For pages and pages, Gojo flips through the little packets trying to find anything. 

It’s not what he sees, but what he doesn’t. A blank packet of papers, with no name for the owner or the pet. Only a description in the prompt box, neat handwriting in a single line. 

“Showing signs of anxiety.” 

Gojo smiles to himself. Interesting. 

He jumps back over onto the other side once he’s seen it. It’s strange. Why would they go to the lengths of premeditating it like that? Whether it’s the curse itself or some third party, it’s an unreasonable thing to do. 

“Not like people like this are usually reasonable, but,” 

He saves the rest of the thought, sighing. The room has two hallways to go down. Both directions have some lingering cursed energy,  but the hallway leading to the overnight area is much stronger. It’s separated by a big metal door, so Gojo braces himself to go through it.

He walks towards it slowly and through the doors even slower. It’s a long, empty hall. The ceilings are low, white fluorescent lights over his head like a falsified halo. They flicker on and off, with the ones at the very end of the hall having fizzled out completely. Gojo can hear, feel, and see everything. He can hear his own breathing and the artificial crackling  of electricity. Feel the lingering presence of sickness, the sediments of a curse preparing itself to emerge like a butterfly from a cocoon. 

He peeks into the different rooms of the hallway. One half of the hall is kennels, once again empty and left in the same messy state as the front desk. The other half of the rooms look like surgery rooms, with a storage closet tucked into one corner. The hall comes to an abrupt stop at the end, a painted gray wall with nothing to offer at the end.

But when Gojo is half-way through, he hears it. A heart-beat. A human one, slow and steady like it’s not worried at all. Not moving or running, just there. Thump, thump, thump. 

Gojo perks his head up as he walks, leaning over to get a look at every room. Empty, empty, empty. 

Then, in the very last one is a shadowy figure. The sound of the heartbeat is louder and the feeling of cursed energy is so strong it’s nauseating. Gojo pauses when he peers in, waits for there to be any response to his presence. There’s no way whoevers lurking doesn’t know he’s there, but there’s nothing that makes him react. He frowns. 

His hand reaches for the handle of the door with a sigh, the mechanism inside clicking to let Gojo know it’s open. He takes a deep breath before opening it, stepping inside and shutting it behind him. 

Even with the room as dark as it, the person inside is clear to his vision. A young girl. Probably no older than 17 with… 

He furrows his brow. With a dog, from what it looks like. No ordinary dog, obviously. A curse in the form of a dog, with teeth too sharp for its mouth and fur that looks like a smear of charcoal and nothing like hair at all. It’s on a long leash, the chain wrapped around the young woman's palms. 

The dog seems to tense up at the sight of Gojo. The eyes are empty and white - almost transparent. It’s a snarling thing, muzzle over the mouth and clearly on edge. Gojo looks at its owner, the perpetrator in this instance. Who looks calm, black mask tucked over face and long dark hair with bangs cut sharp.

Gojo doesn’t know what to say here. He wasn’t expecting to make contact this easily with a curse and its master. It’s been months now, the authorities chasing after this special grade from city to city. She’s obviously strong, and so is that curse that’s strained against its collar like it’s ready to rip him in half if he moves. Not stronger than him, because no such thing ever happens - but strong enough for him to be cautious. 

He doesn’t step forward. He stops by the door and tilts his head. He’s sure she can’t see his eyes, but they make eye contact all the same. None of it makes any sense, but making sense of it isn’t Gojo’s job. 

Instead of introducing himself, he opens the conversation with a question. 

“Why’re you still here?” 

“I knew I was going to get caught soon.” 

An answer he couldn’t predict even if he tried. Gojo huffs. 

“There was some time between the authorities coming and this investigation. You could have left before then, no?” 

“Doesn’t matter. Something would’ve stopped me.” 

“What a weird kid. What led you to that?” 

There’s a minute where the dog (?) starts barking,  but the noise is nothing like a bark. It’s cosmic and strained, and sounds more like a distorted radio than an animal noise. It’s in the shape of an animal but it isn’t one, like it couldn’t complete itself to be one. Gojo winces at the sound, intensified in the closed walls of the room. It’s piercing, and a little annoying. 

When she soothes it, it calms down quickly. It’s obedient. 

“Uh. A vision. Closer to a premonition. Fate.”

“Fate said you were going to get caught today. Right.” 

“Aren’t you a shaman? Shouldn’t be that hard to believe.” 

“Point taken. How did you know I was a shaman and not some murderer?” 

She gives Gojo a pointed look. 

“Look at you. Plus, I can feel that you’re a shaman.” 

“Another premonition?” He asks, this time sincerely. She shakes her head. 

“No. Your aura.” 

Gojo stares ahead. 

“...Right, yeah. It doesn’t look like you’re planning on attacking me.” 

“I don’t think I’d win. I’ve never met anyone stronger than me.” 

“I’m the strongest there is, so I guess not. How did you wanna go about this, then? Famous last words?” 

“You go first. I’d rather talk to you than the other officials.” 

“Hm. Don’t know if I have any questions, kiddo. My job is catching you, not interrogation. I guess I am a little interested in why.” 

This makes her deflate a little. It’s hardly noticeable, but Gojo sees it anyway. The dog seems to react, snarling at her discomfort. He’s starting to understand the connection between them.

She thinks for a minute longer before sighing. 

“Well. I guess I should start about why, right? It’s an old story. I came from a small village. I used to walk miles to school everyday and I’d get bullied a lot since my granny was a shaman. It was just us growing up. A nice old house with not a lot of modern anything,”

Gojo crosses his arms, leaning back on the wall and nodding his head. He figures she’ll tell him top to bottom, so he doesn’t give any input. 

“My granny died a few years ago. I didn’t have any family so I moved on my own. Even back then, the only other thing I cared about were animals. I started working at a shelter and then I met Senbei.” 

The more she talks, the worse he feels. Gojo already knows how this story will end, but he doesn’t interrupt her as she pauses between her sentences. Being 17 and bearing the burdens of loss is something he regards as a nightmare. 

“Senbei was my best friend. Most loyal dog ever. And you know, I started my job with high hopes and kept him by my side. I wasn’t always angry. Working in that shelter and watching animals come in trembling every time I fed ‘em made me angry. How cruel and sick people could be.” 

Her explanations are jumbled and clumsy. She sounds angry but it’s not that simple, curling in on herself the more she talks. Noticeably, she doesn’t try to justify it. She says it easily, with acceptance that it happened.  He thinks that acceptance is harder to bear than delusion. Gojo can’t help but commend her silently. 

“I’m sorry you went through that.”  Gojo replies. 

He’s being sincere. 

“Should you be sympathizing with me?” 

“Doesn’t matter. I just do.”

Her expression softens. She looks sad, and it’s not like Gojo doesn’t understand.  She keeps going though, hands shaking in her lap. Gojo thinks she might’ve been waiting to tell someone. 

“I don’t know when I stopped seeing the good in people….I always thought about—about my granny and how no one—no one came to see her. She was always taking care of everyone and no-one—“

“I know, kid,” Gojo says with a sigh “I get it.” 

“Then you know,” She pauses, taking a deep breath. There’s frustrated tears pouring down her cheek this time. What a strange, sad thing she is:  “That you can’t go back. Even if you forget. It just—it changes you.” 

Yeah. Gojo knows something about that, too. 

“I was already pretty desperate when Senbei was alive. Just trying to hold on. When he was killed, I lost it. I just fucking— I lost it. I’m sure you understand. You get it right?”

Gojo looks at her confused. She shakes her head, looking down in her lap at the curse in her hands.

“I can tell you're like me.  That's why your aura is so tainted and… fucked up and  malicious. It should be crystalline blue kinda like spring water—but it’s muddy. Rigid.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“The fact you’re hanging on by a thread. You can feel it too, right?“ 

Gojo remains quiet at her observation. He doesn’t know how to react. 

“When you want something so bad, it just— does something to you. Either because it won’t happen or because it needs to take your life to exist. Happened to granny, to me. It’ll happen to you, too.”

“I doubt that,” Gojo says, your face flashing in his mind. He shakes his thoughts away. 

“You’re thinking about it too literally. You want something, so you chase it and lose yourself in the process. You’re dead. No longer you, all tangled and in ruins. It’s not too late, but if you keep going—that thread is gonna snap.” 

“A premonition?” He says, partially sarcastic. She shakes her head. 

“No, a prediction. You don’t have to consider it if you don’t want to. I just thought I’d tell you since you gave me some last minutes with this Senbei.” 

Gojo shakes his head. 

“I don’t have any reason to be forceful if you comply. Take your time. I don’t have anything better to do.” 

Gojo glances at her as she pets it, having resigned herself to silently gazing upon it. He can’t stop himself from thinking about everything she’s said, so he averts his gaze to the ceiling and pretends otherwise.

The silent stretches, a pregnant pause before she speaks one more time. She has a look on her face Gojo can’t read.

“You know, it’s funny. Everyone thinks dogs are loyal to their masters, but that’s because we made them that way. We can’t stand being alone or unloved so we made something that can do both without ever seeing any less of us.” 

“You’ve had a lot of time to think about it.”  Gojo says, unsure of how to reply. She isn’t expecting anything, but remaining silent fills him with a sense of dread. 

“Guess so. You should take some time to think about it too,”

She says to him, petting the curse that whines like it’s been hit in her small hands. Gojo takes a deep breath. 

“…Yeah. I’ll do that.” 

__

The case ends anti-climatically. 

Gojo finds it funny. The officials came and the young girl was promptly arrested. He never even got a chance to ask her name. He learned through some probing that she only made two asks before being taken. 

The first, to keep her curse dog with her, and to send her thanks to the sorcerer who had apprehended her in the first place.

On the news, much later in the week - a news report surfaces. “Danger in the Deep,” giving reasonable and logical explanations for the events that occurred in cities across Japan not even a few weeks ago. New studies show, experts say, here’s a word from your local—a barrage of fancy language to pad the publishing, add depth and realism. The public is none the wiser. 

Gojo has to admire the commitment to keeping the peace. The case ends, and the girl gets arrested and put on trial. He doesn’t know if he’ll be seeing her again any time soon, though he’s sure he has the power to intervene. 

He’s hesitating to do so. Why stick his neck out for her in a situation like this one? Over other situations, more dire ones at that. She’d make a good ally.

Their last conversation hasn’t left the back of Gojo’s mind. He’s conscious of it, albeit it hasn’t slowed him down. He’s not looking for another assessment of who or what ghosts are haunting him. He’d prefer to put it all behind him now

So life, in some capacity, has returned to its baseline. It’s normal. He has cases but they don’t take him more than three days. He’s able to do his usual chores without anything impeding them. He’s been teaching, no longer forced to make his students fend for themselves. 

He’s been seeing you again regularly, too. 

He’s getting ready now to do just that. Scheduled to get another coffee together (something of a tradition now) and pick up some conversations. You’ve been busy, though Gojo doesn’t know the details of what.

He wants to know. He’s even tried asking but as soon as he gets close to the subject, you slink into yourself like you’re trying to disappear. Besides, he doesn’t want to intimidate you into telling him. 

(Though, it would be so easy to do. You’ve got a record for being a scaredy cat, and as much as it endears him - he is entirely too hung up on the potential for exploitation to admire it kindly. It’d be easy to turn the notches up, pressure you. With how easy going you are, you’d let him do it. Gojo bets you’d cave. He thinks the face you’d make would be entertaining too. 

Above all, the offer is tempting.) 

In spite of your refusal to discuss the specifics, Gojo does want to cheer you up in whatever capacity he can. So, he’s taking you out for a while and hoping a comfortable environment and the presence of other people will soothe your nerves a little. 

He’s getting dressed for it now, rifling through his closet for decent casual attire. 

He’s got his hair styled down, a pair of new sunglasses on the table and his clothes folded on his bed before he tries them on. Most of his closet is uniforms, plain black and boring. For now, he’s settled on a black crew neck and blue jeans - ripped at the knees. 

He looks over his appearance in the mirror, posing in it. Arms flexed and stretched over his head before putting them out in front of his body. 

He takes his time to take part in the ritual. He slips his boxers up over his legs, waist band tight around his torso and clinging to the curves of his thighs. He pulls his jeans up, low at his hips with a belt buckled through the front. Then comes his sweater over his abdomen. 

He wants to look nice. Though, he could be deluding himself - lately you seem a little more aware of his appearance. It makes him happy that his good looks haven’t failed him in the instance they matter most. 

As he puts on his accessories (in this case a watch and a ring) his phone buzzes atop his dresser. He stops to pick it up, a message from you on the screen. He peers over so his face can be read, then smiles. 

(sent 11:15am) Ready ~ 

He laughs to himself. 

(sent 11:16am) Almost ready. Need to look my best for such a tremendous occasion. 

(sent 11:16am) For coffee? 

(sent 11;17) For coffee with my favorite kindergarten teacher ofc ♡

You send back a simple reply telling him to hurry and come out. Gojo chooses to interpret your embarrassment as a sign. It puts some pep in his step, and he hurries to finish dressing up. 

He steps out of his house, locking his door from the outside before shuffling down a single flight of stairs and out into the front entrance of his complex. He notices you waiting at the front gate from where he’s standing. 

The neighborhood dog (officially named Pokupan) is asleep by the security office. You’re the same as always. Today's outfit is a dress with long sleeves and colored tights. It suits you. A splash of warmth in an otherwise dreary world, Gojo stands in place as he watches you for an unidentified amount of time. Minutes feel like seconds as you pace back and forth. Your phone must be in your purse because he can’t find it anywhere on you. 

He’s delighted when you finally turn your head to look at him. You cup your hand and give him a kind wave which he laughs at and returns enthusiastically. His stride is long, walking towards the gate. 

You have to tilt your neck up to look at him (making his chest squeeze unhelpfully) but you smile when you do so. 

“Hey,” 

“Hello there Miss. Waiting for a special someone?” He jokes. You flush. 

“They’re an important friend,” 

He tries not to let his smile falter. Friend. 

“Then, is it a bother if I ask to take you out?” 

This time you falter. Gojo notices it out of the corner of his eye, the briefest brush of nerves that makes it seem like you’re warming up to him after all. It’s gone as quickly as it came but it’s there and Gojo etches it into the back of his eyelids for memory. He smiles at you as you look away, flush

“Not at all,” 

He grins, again, even brighter. Then he sticks his arm out for you to loop in. You hesitate again. This time Gojo can’t be sure why.

“I’m just being a gentleman, you know?” He pouts. His frown takes effect as you loop your arms together. He keeps it friendly. Too much pushing and you’ll skitter away right before his eyes. Still, even this much progress feels good. It feels whole and light and good. 

It’s a pleasant sort of day. 

Not that it’s warm, or even sunny. It’s cold, on the edge of Autumn that dances into Winter. Freezing but bright out, the kind of sky where everything is clear. During the day the sky has no clouds and no stars when it comes to night time. 

Nonetheless it’s nice. The cold is the kind that makes you want to cozy into someone for warmth, so Gojo doesn’t mind walking in. The walk itself isn’t very long either. The cafe is near your complex, just about 15 minutes worth of walking. There’s no snow or ice to trip on, and because it’s freezing - you shiver every time you stray too far from the heat of his body so the walking is done exceptionally close together

There are kids and parents walking together on the street alongside you, dogs and their owners, street vendors with hot tea. It’s that kind of day where the cold doesn’t keep anyone indoors, in fact everyone seems to relish in the fact they can run and run and run without overheating. It feels like everything is in sync with each other, comfortable and harmonious in spite of everything else.

After 15 minutes, you’ve arrived at the store front. Not long enough for Gojo, but that’s okay. There’s next time he has to look forward too. 

(He tells himself this every time. It’s never enough for him. He can never get enough of listening to you talk. He could probably mimic your cadence without having to try. It’s a sound he doesn’t get sick of―a miracle, another one, because Gojo hates so many sounds―yet there’s one he always looks out for. 

There has to be a next time. If he forgets to tell himself as much, he gets so restless he can hardly stand.

The cafe is nice. It’s one of those places that you see on Instagram often with plenty of sweets for Gojo’s taste and plenty of fancy teas for yours. The outside has beige-colored brick and a brown sign decorated with cutesy drawings. You spend a good amount of time crouched beside it, taking a picture or two to later post on your story. 

“You have to tag me, okay? It’s your payment for wasting our precious time together,” He jokes. 

You stand to your feet and brush off your pants, the material of your coat rustling as you do. 

“Yes, yes ― I promise. I’ll have to ask who drew them when we get in there.” 

Gojo smiles at your enthusiasm before opening the door for you.  Another one of those glass ones with a logo printed on the top half and the metal tinted brown. A little bell chimes above your head as you head in first, and Gojo heads in after you. He has to duck not to his his head on the top of it.

It’s not too crowded at this hour. A handful of people sit among the many tables and booths. Your head is turned to the menu and Gojo trails behind you like a shadow. One to compliment all your light. 

It smells delightful inside. Like warm cookies and vanilla and tea. Gojo feels his sweet tooth kick in the minute you two stand in line. The barista is a doe-eyed blonde college student. There’s another employee with long dark hair and thin, narrow eyes. It reminds Gojo a lot of that girl he met a few weeks ago but he tries to put that thought out of his mind.

He sticks his hands in his pockets and eyes the menu. The special item is a yuzu cream cake, the picture of it hanging on the wall like employee of the month. There’s a glass display of all the other items and the menu matches the rest of the decor.

“This was a good choice,” Gojo says, entranced by all the desserts around him. You laugh, turning your head slightly to look at him. 

“Are you complimenting yourself right now?” 

“Am I wrong?” 

“Your sweet tooth is so bad,” You say through giggles “Your poor dentist,” 

He gasps in offense.

“I will have you know I keep my pearly whites pristine. Not a single cavity for the record.” He says back, placing emphasis on the last words. You snort a laugh. 

“I’ve never had one either,” You repeat back, perhaps mindlessly before saying “There’s a lot we don’t know about each other yet.” 

Yet. Yet. Gojo’s subconscious will hold onto that word for too long. It makes his heart beat too loud. He’s relieved that you’re nothing like him. If you were in this very moment, you would hear the thunder raging inside of his ribs. 

Instead of saying anything, he scoffs playfully. 

“I bet you were such a goody two-shoes that you never ate sweets before bed-time.” 

Your eyes widen in surprise followed by embarrassment, where you tuck your chin into your sweater. 

“Ugh,” You say, so weakly Gojo can’t stop himself from laughing “What’s wrong with being a goody two shoes, huh?” 

Gojo feels almost feline in his self-satistication. “I didn’t say anything was wrong with it, just that you were one.” 

Your frown deepens. 

“I don’t care for your tone, mister.” 

“Are you gonna scold me like one of your students?” 

“If it gets you to be nice,” You say firmly, in that Teacher voice that Gojo has caught glimpses of over the last few months. He does a fake salute. 

“Yes, ma’am!,” He proclaims,  soft enough so only you hear it. You break out into another set of his giggles, melting his cold heart. It’s not the smile so much as it is yours.  The line moves up just a little bit. Gojo steps in front of you before you have a chance, his figure shadowing you. 

“What do you want?” 

“I think I’m gonna get one of those fruit teas and some cake.” You say absentmindedly. He smiles at you playfully. 

“Heard,” 

Gojo turns to order for you both, laughing through your obvious protests about his paying for you. He’s able to block you from getting in the way as the cashier looks on the both of you bemusedly. When the order is placed, Gojo taps his phone against the reader before moving aside where you stomp your feet and follow him. 

“I told you I would get it this time,” You whine. He hums. 

“Mm, there’s always next time?” 

“You say that every time!” 

“So you never know? Maybe it’s next time for sure.” 

You seem to realize that this is a fruitless conversation and that he’s not going to relent. With a flush on your face, you cross your arms and pout. 

“I’ll get you back one of these times, I swear….Anyway, thank you.” You add the last part quietly. He hums. 

“It’s only fair, you know. After all, who else would come here to eat sweets with me?” 

You look taken aback but Gojo doesn’t retract his statement. He’s sure there’s someone he could ask. But there’s no one who would agree to it as easily as you have. The environment wouldn’t be so welcoming, either. Someone who would do something like this with Gojo is long lost. It almost feels foreign to him now. 

In order to ease the tension, you look up at him warmly. 

“Then, I’m glad you asked me.” 

There it is again. That warm, sort of fluttery feeling he gets in his chest being around you. He wonders if he’s allowed to be so happy. 

The food arrives at the counter, the young woman calling out for Gojo. You and Gojo split the task of carrying the plates, picking a nice booth in the corner with the top covered, You slide in across from him, situating your bag. 

You and Gojo go back and forth, setting up everything so it looks nice under the lights. Gojo takes on taking the photos this time, clicking from a few different angles and stopping to show you after each photo. 

“I’ll send you the picture later, okay?” 

“Don’t forget.” 

“I won’t, I won’t. Let’s eat, okay?” 

You nod enthusiastically.

__ 

You and Gojo eat and chat comfortably for a while. 

He’s not sure how much time passes. He wasn’t checking because why would he? He’d like to be with you a bit longer, so he refrains from thinking about it and hopes you do the same. Just a bit more, he tells himself. Until you really, really have to go. 

There’s nothing major to catch up on. You tell Gojo about your job, mostly and how you saw some friends from out of town the week before. Winter is coming and you want to do something nice for the holidays. You’re getting along well with your fellow teachers which is good. He was worried about that, but he can’t keep eyes on you at school. 

(Not for not having tried. He’s thought about it, but his presence would be too noticeable and he doesn’t trust anyone else to the task) 

So it’s relieving. Your only complaint has been that some of the students have the sort of parents you can’t handle. Pushy and involved in a way you can’t ignore but can’t tolerate either. Gojo jokes to take care of them, gesturing to his arm like he’s ready to knock someone's lights out. 

That makes you laugh, and following it you have this melancholy look that sends alarms blaring in Gojo’s head. You don’t broach the subject at all afterwards. You talk about everything else you can. The sale on radishes at the market, thinking about getting a car just to have it, maybe visiting your parents sometime soon. 

Gojo listens. He doesn’t have much to add. His work is strictly classified to people who aren’t in the field and it’s nothing fun to begin with. He does tell you what he can - usually about some antics his students have gotten into during training. He can at least talk about that. 

He tells you about the movies he’s watched, how he went drinking with his co-workers last week, and how he thinks Pokupan is starting to act friendlier to him. 

It’s fun because it’s you. Gojo likes feeling like he’s involved with you intimately. He likes hearing you talk. The sound of your voice is such a pleasant contrast to his own. You talk with a kind of joy Gojo could never hope to carry, all gestures and smiles and interjections - trying to make sure your point comes across. How you don’t think the kid sitting in the front is a bad kid, just needs guidance. How the material of your sweater isn’t really cashmere but more of a blend. 

Time passes  comfortably that way. The drinks and food have been reduced to crumbs and cold drops of tea, glasses emptied and phones abandoned. 

But neither of you have made any move to leave, and Gojo is still listening to you talk with a pleased smile on his face. It was a pleasant sort of day, remember? 

“So it was fine in the end, but the classroom was such a mess seriously―” 

So, it throws Gojo off when you stop speaking so abruptly. How easily the atmosphere melts, and what an unpleasant film it leaves behind. 

It feels like an axe hammering on a stop, a sharp and near violent thud that cuts off the end of your sentence. The air becomes tense in the blink of an eye. Gojo can feel it, the sensation of cursed energy. It’s stagnated, little like pebbles at the bottom of a creek. But it’s there, and Gojo can feel it creep over your shoulders like a sixth sense. Like someone skipped a stone over that same water. He senses it in the air like dust in the light.

He sits up straight, focusing his attention on you. 

“Hey,” He calls out, softening his voice as much as he can. Trying hard to identify what's wrong exactly “You okay?” 

Your hands shake as you lay them flat on the table. You’re almost completely spaced out by now. It all happens in the blink of an eye. 

Gojo stares at you, calling to you a second time. 

“Hey. Hey, look at me?” 

When you finally hear him, you jump in your skin. Your shoulders relax when you realize it’s only Gojo. Normally that would make him happy, but not like this. Your hands are shaking. A nervous fidget in all of your movements that he’s never seen before, like you’ve been shocked with electric wire. He hates it. The taste of your fear (this fear) is different and unfamiliar. 

He doesn’t like it. 

You turn your head to look at him then avert your eyes again. He can’t follow your gaze as it shifts. It’s too erratic.

“No, uhm. It’s just, uhm.” 

“Woah! Hey, Miss. I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” 

Everything feels like it slows down as Gojo watches your eyes snap up. Your expression drops again, even lower, and if he listens close enough he can hear the sound of your heart. Your discomfort is tangible. It leaves a metallic taste in Gojo’s mouth as you suddenly curl in yourself, shoulders hunched and peeling skin off your nails. 

You don’t even look to Gojo for help. Instead, your words go soft.  You become helpless in front of his eyes. 

“Oh. Yes, hello.” You bow your head trying to say as little as possible. Gojo stares as you shake like a leaf in the wind. Something ugly curls up inside of him, a knife twisting in his chest. 

“Aw, c’mon? What’s with the unfriendly act? Is it ‘cause you’re here with your boyfriend?”

You look up at him panicked. Not because of the comment, but because of his tone. Gojo hears it too. How sinister it is. Like he’s blaming you for it somehow, like you’ve wronged him. The feeling inside of him is so ugly, it’s so wretched. His knuckles turn nearly white from how hard he’s closing his fist. You put your hands up and go to explain yourself anxiously. 

It makes Gojo sick. He smiles, turning his head just a little so he can see. He opens his eyes and stares, focusing his vision on remembering every detail of the bastard's face.

“I’m not her boyfriend. We’re neighbors,” He explains, tone as cold as ice but smiling. 

Gojo puts pressure in the atmosphere. His natural and suffocating aura returns to him easily. He smiles and remains unnervingly still, waits in quiet for the man to respond. He scratches the back of his head, still indignant. 

“Uh. Okay. I guess that’s good. Wouldn’t be appropriate for a teacher to be out on a date like this huh?” 

Again. This guy, whoever he is, turns his head like he’s trying to talk down to you. Diverts his perversion and sadism towards you that leaves Gojo wondering what his head would look like against concrete. A bitter, heinous feeling waits inside of him, nesting into his ribs as the sound of every voice in the room comes to be muffled. All Gojo can hear is his heart. How long it's been since he’s heard it. 

It’s loud. A cacophony, or a hymn. Divine rage in the sound of his soul leaves has him unsure of how to proceed. 

Gojo glances at you. Your eyes are rounded, full of desperation. Pleading. 

Gojo hates whoever this is. Gojo wants to save you. He thinks you deserve to be saved. 

He stands up. He has enough height on the guy to be intimidating, the guy just barely coming up to his shoulder. Gojo stares down wildly, pulling his glasses to the bridge of his nose to peek briefly over the edge. The bastard stops talking immediately, words coming to a stutter, It’s satisfying. 

“Who are you?” He asks. 

“Wh-why is that any of your concern? Can’t you see I’m talking to―” 

“I didn’t ask about who you were talking to. I asked who you were,” 

He hears you from behind him “He’s a parent from my school,”

“Ah, okay. Interesting. Since you’re a parent, we wouldn’t want to make this a confrontation right?” Gojo says, bemused “It’d be a real issue for everyone if it turned out that way,” 

Gojo puts a hand on his shoulder, tightening his grip hard enough to hear him gasp. He’s weak, but that’s to be expected.

“So, I suggest you turn around and head home, hm? Since we wouldn’t want it to be a big fuss.” 

Gojo can see it now. With a little pressure, he could turn the blade of his shoulder in sawdust and watch him fall to his knees. He’d let out a cry, a sharp pathetic wail like a hit dog. Gojo would make him say sorry to you before he lets up his hand from his skin. He’d do it infront of everyone in the store so they could hold a little fear in their hearts. 

He won’t do it. Just for now. If it complicates your work then you wouldn’t be able to support yourself. What would he do if you ended up somewhere far away? Out of his sight, something like this could happen again and Gojo wouldn’t be able to take care of you. 

So he doesn’t crush it. He pushes his palms into his shoulder blades and whispers quietly, just so the two of them hear. He pulls away and watches as his face goes pale, a simple stutter leaving his lips. Something about how he’ll see you later and that somethings come up before he turns around and leaves.

Gojo watches as he does. The door chimes again, and the man disappears. The patrons who might’ve glanced turn away again like it was just a simple altercation, which is good. Then finally, Gojo looks at you where you are. Your hands are trembling so hard, a shake of relief in your shoulders as you cover your face. You look like you’re getting ready to cry, so Gojo takes it into his own hands. He cleans up all the food, wipes the table, and even grabs your jacket and bag as you take a minute to collect yourself. 

He taps your shoulder lightly afterwards, waiting for you to look up. Once you do he smiles, reaches a hand out to you so you don’t have to think twice. 

“About time to get out of here, huh?” 

You nod, so slowly. You look so relieved, even as you sniffle. Your hand is so small compared to his. He squeezes it protectively as you slide it into his own, and helps you walk out of the store together. 

The air is cold, the same as before, the temperature having warmed just a bit. The bell above the door rings as the two of you finally leave, standing in the street. Unlike before though, there’s something bitter in the air. The sun has hidden itself completely in the clouds and the streets feel emptier, lifeless. 

Gojo turns to you with a somber expression, trying to smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Do you want to go somewhere to talk about it, maybe?” 

You chew your lower lip then sigh “...Yeah. Probably should, huh?” 

You and Gojo decide on a place not too far from where you are. It’s a small park, a good place to end off an otherwise good day. 

You have to take the bus to get there, but there’s not many people. Gojo eventually gives you back your things, lets you slide your jacket on and fix your face - but ultimately takes your hand and holds it on the ride there. He brings it to his lap and you don’t pull away even though you seem to fidget the whole time. 

The bus finally stops in front of the park. It takes hardly any time, but Gojo finds he’s unable to let go of your hand so he doesn’t. Instead, he holds tight and lets you trail behind. You let him lead you quietly out back in the street. You give your thanks to the driver as the doors close. 

He can’t let go of your hand, though he knows now would’ve been a good time to do it. His grip only grows tighter. 

“Let's go find somewhere to sit,” He offers. You squeeze his hand this time and don’t look away. 

“Okay,” 

He tries to keep pace with you this time, instead of walking ahead. Your strides are shorter than his so he’s careful that you don’t fall behind. Your eyes still have that watery look to them but you’re no longer trembling from fear. Just the cold, if anything. 

And your heartbeat no longer sounds so hazardous. Gojo is still restless, still fidgety. His thumb is rubbing circles into your skin but it’s not really for you. 

You find a bench, eventually - in the middle of the long walk-way just a distance away from a playground. Gojo juts his chin out towards it, before turning over to look at you.

“Let’s go sit,” 

You nod as you walk together towards it. You sit first, and Gojo finally lets go of you. He sits besides you. There’s a minute where the whole world is deathly quiet. There should be something calm about it, but it isn’t. You’re no longer terrified, and a distance away. There’s no danger lurking in the dark and there’s no cars passing or children crying. 

Everything is calm and silent, but Gojo couldn’t feel more unease if he tried. He thinks he hides it well. But there’s that itch again, in a place behind his ribs he can’t reach into and he finds it hard to breathe. 

“So,” He starts, breaking the tension “I’m guessing it’s not a friend,” 

The stupid joke makes a smile appear on your lips. It’s small, but Gojo takes some comfort in it anyway. You wipe away your lower lash gently, a wet laugh leaving your mouth. 

“No, not a friend. He’s uhm… a parent from my school.” 

“The one who’s been bothering you for all these weeks?” Gojo supplies. You turn your head, eyes widened in surprise. Gojo lets out a breathy laugh. 

“You….knew?” 

“Not about him specifically, but I could tell something was bothering you,” He admits, and then adds “I always pay attention to my favorite person, you know?” 

The addition has you looking away, but Gojo doesn’t mind. You sigh, rubbing your face with your palms before leaning back against the bench with your head hanging off the edge. 

“He’s the parent of one of my students. Akio, he’s a good kid. A really well-behaved one but… too well-behaved. Never raises his hand, never complains or says he won’t do something.” 

“I’m guessing that sent off an alarm bell, huh?” 

You nod softly. 

“Yeah. I figure it was something at home, but I’d met his mom prior and she was a real angel. Then, his dad came to visit. The man we met at the store, and I knew right away.” 

Gojo feels his jaw clench listening to you talk. 

“But still, you know, my job as a teacher is to be as respectful as I can. I always politely declined him when he would make comments and remained professional. Eventually, his mom stopped coming altogether and—I tried, I really—but he…” You trail off, a lump in your throat. He watches as tears form in your eyes, his anger getting more and more tangible. He tries not to express it, putting a hand on your knee “He just… kept pushing. A-and once, he looked like he was gonna get violent. I made a report, you know, to the school. But you know how they are,” 

“They never even bothered investigating huh,” Gojo sneers. You laugh a tired sort of laugh. 

“Of course not. After that, I just tried to endure it. And I know he hasn’t done anything technically, but it doesn’t really feel like a matter of if but when,” You explain haphazardly.  Gojo squeezes where his hand rests. 

“I believe you. It’s okay,” He says as soothingly as he possibly can “It’s okay. I’m here,” 

There’s a sense of relief that washes over your whole body and before he knows it, you’re breaking down. He feels a lot of emotions all at the same time, watching your little frame as you lose it so easily in front of him. A part of him is so furious he wants to make it everyone's problem. Another part of him is so deeply sad knowing you’ve suffered all on your own. 

And the most notable part of him is the sense of protectiveness, burrowing inside of him. A sense of possession. It sinks into him like teeth, seeps into his blood like the venom of an animal so that he bleeds and breathes it. Gojo can’t shake that deep sense of urgency, a nameless and faceless desire that consumes him. He shudders.. He holds it in, all of it. Cups his hands so desperately so that it doesn’t spill over and touch you, the ink of ruining the soft white of your clothes. 

In a world that you have made beautiful, desire is ugly. Hideous and infectious, it tears Gojo limb from limb. It makes Gojo feel on edge. Gojo should not desire for any more than what he was. People always die when he does. 

But maybe they don’t have to. Maybe, he can protect you. He can keep you safe. He wants to keep you safe. He wants to keep you all to himself.

It’s in an effort to soothe those feelings that his arms find themselves around your form. It’s the first time you’ve hugged in such an intimate way. Where expects you to turn away - you don’t. 

Instead you cling, your arms around his jacket and your face in his chest. You cry and weep and sob and you look so small like that. You look like you’ll collapse and Gojo holds you. Says it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay as you let it all out. It must feel good to finally let it all out, after everything and he doesn’t intend to stop you. 

“I promise I’ll always protect you from now on,” And he says it, and means it. If you feel the weight of his statement, you don’t let it show “It’s okay. You can cry if you need too,” 

You cry and cry and cry. 

And Gojo thinks the call of heaven is nothing in comparison to the sound. 

__

In the end, Gojo can’t forgive him. 

It’s not without effort. He tries to do it at your request, because after all the tears he wants to help. He says he can maybe pull some strings. But that gentle heart you have declines. You don’t want it to become a big deal. You feel a little better knowing he knows. In the end, you don’t want it to affect that brats reputation. 

“You know how kids can be,” You say, voice full of concern for everyone but yourself “I don’t want to make school life anymore difficult than his life at home must be,” 

So, Gojo tries to listen to you. But days pass, and days turn into weeks. In the end, a month goes by and Gojo is full of terrible and divine anger. 

In the end, Gojo won’t forgive him. Gojo can’t let it go. He feels so righteous in it, he starts avoiding his own eyes in the mirror. There’s something inside of them he has no desire to look at. Eyes that tell all, Gojo turns away from their gaze. Gojo is angry for you, and it’s not in his character to do nothing about it. 

He decides on less of a whim that it looks. He wonders about alternatives, if there’s anything that can stop this feeling from imploding inside of him but nothing comes.

When he decides that nothing can be done, Gojo goes out of his way to start watching him. 

Like any mission, he needs enough background information to map out a plan.  He wants to make sure that it has virtually no pushback for you. There’s always a possibility you’ll get caught in the crossfire and that’d be the worst possible outcome. Gojo can protect you from a lot of things, but he’s not as confident about the law. 

(Not that he can’t. Just not in the good, right way he’s sure you want him to protect you in. Gojo’s love is divine, not right. There’s nothing in this world Gojo can’t shield you from, because he’s the strongest.)

 He also can’t make anything obvious or leave any room for interpretation. If there’s anything that feels off when the reports go live - you’ll stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. He thinks in the instance you find out (about all of it, the premeditation  especially) you’d probably tuck your tail and run. 

(Gojo would find you. But the chase means there’s some time you’re apart. The thought is almost nauseating.) 

He likes that you’re curious about everything. In most instances anyways. But he thinks it’s better to leave you in the dark sometimes. Having you worry about it would ruin the point of this. And sometimes, it’s better not knowing every detail. Honeytraps are more ethical than nets. 

He’s doing it for you in the end, like he does most things. And the kid will benefit, maybe even get some sympathy from his classmates for a while about the tragedy that befell his father. Gojo thinks it’s a good plan because no one loses.  It’s a lot like killing a curse. 

It only takes two weeks to learn virtually everything there is to know. A guy like that doesn’t have much he can hide. 

The name of his target, he learns, is Nobu Watanabe. Father to Akio Watanbe and ex-husband to Akiko Watanbe. He’s a recently released felon (let off on good behavior) with a battery and assault with a deadly weapon charge. He’s a college drop-out, and has been working a lot of odd-jobs since he was 16.

His personality is bad, worse is his drinking and smoking habits. He’s often found drunk in the street, and has a track record for single nights spent in a cell. His ex-wife is usually the one bailing him out. Gojo can’t help but feel sorry for her. Somehow, he doubts that he’s good to her. He’s a deadbeat father through and through. He only offers to pick up his kid to harass you. At least from what he can tell. 

He isn’t as awful to his kid as everyone else. Gojo doubts that was always the case. Akio isn’t a bad kid, but it’s hard not to notice the way the light in his eyes disappears when his father comes around to pick him up. A head always looking towards the floor, hands tucked in his pockets. 

It’s difficult for Gojo to feel any guilt about what he’s doing. After everything, he can’t find it in himself to feel any regret. 

His target is currently working at a dock, not too far from the city. He seems to work there most days, working at a bar on the weekends. It’s a big company that handles foreign goods that he does physical labor for. Lifting and moving boxings, checking inventory - it’s not a complicated affair. 

If there’s not a major shipment, he still seems to clock in so he’s definitely paid some kind of hourly wage. He smokes often on the job, but works diligently when there is something to do. An easy but physical job, he’s strong. Gojo can understand what intimidates you about him. 

Gojo, though, isn’t intimidated by him at all. 

He waits a week before he takes action. To shake off anyone or anything that might be trailing him, and to make sure that everything is the same as he observed. That his schedule wasn’t going to change. A week passes, and when Gojo has confirmation - he decides to do what he does best. 

Gojo Satoru decides to play God on a Sunday.

Sunday is a day shipments come in and a day he often works alone. The pay is better on Sunday and Nobu is the only one on his shift who takes it. He’s not expected to finish the strenuous work because he’s alone for such a long stretch of time - just to make a dent in it. The people at the next shift are the ones who finish the job. 

He starts his day as early as 6am. It’s near winter, so the world is painted in a miraculously melancholy blue. Gojo follows him that morning. He knows the route well enough to trail behind him and not attract any attention. They pass together, turning corners and taking bus rides until Nobu’s finally in at his job. 

There, they part briefly. His target goes into the big white building and he goes on top. Gojo has to teleport to the roof because everything is gated with security cameras covering every inch of the property. Following him puts Gojo at risk. So he waits on top of the building, hands in his pocket and pacing until Nobu comes out the otherside to the docks. His jumpsuit put on haphazardly, only half-pulled up to his waist, with a clipboard and pen as a bunch of boxes waiting for him to check them. 

After Gojo confirms that he’s alone, he lies in wait. He sits and waits - watching as the clouds pass. Watching the open sea, how it remains unchanging no matter what boats pass through to shore. He looks at his phone every now and again to check the time. 

It shouldn’t be too difficult to actually do it. 

You know, if Gojo turns his infinity on, there’s nothing in the world that can touch him. He can touch it, but it can’t touch him. There will always be a barrier between his hands and the world. Between him and the known universe, a bridge that started burning the minute Gojo was born into it. If Gojo turns on his infinity, there’s no way to leave traces of him behind. 

Did you know? If Gojo turns on his infinity, his fingerprints don’t show up. There’s no DNA to find. Not a trace of him in the world that he hasn’t left purposefully. Even if Gojo chokes him with his hands bare hands - he wouldn’t be touching him. But Gojo can feel it. Feel his pulse, feel his breathing come down slowly.

If there’s such a thing as heaven or hell, Gojo wants to ask God about being homicidal. If it was a flaw of human design or their Lord reflected inside of them. 

He lies in wait on top of the roof until 7. 

When 7 hits, the world around him is still so dark. No one kills in broad daylight. The heavens are murky, sky full of black clouds like puffs of smoke. It’s freezing cold, a spine-tingling chill making its way up Gojo’s skin and hardening his hands. . Gojo waits for the doors of the garage to creak open. When the sound echoes into the air, a metal screech in the void, Gojo stands to his feet. 

He jumps to the ground, landing with a dull thud. He comes out unscathed, a cat on his feet. He dusts off the front of his pants. Nobu hasn’t taken notice of him. Gojo takes a look around them. There’s no cameras in the warehouse. Gojo waits alone in the dark. 

Five minutes. It’s five minutes when all of the lights go out. 

“What the fuck?” Nobu mumbles, dropping his clipboard on top of a bunch of boxes, running a hand through his hair. Gojo waits in silence, watches as he turns around. 

When he finally does, he jumps back in shock. Gojo feels a cold chill run through his body. 

“What the fuck? Who the hell are you?” Nobu asks. Gojo grins. 

“Ah, you don’t remember? We met a few weeks ago! We had a nice little exchange and everything.” He says, voice going higher by an octave. The man in front of him stares, off put by Gojos’ presence. He stumbles in his thinking, his body tensing up. 

“Who the…what the fuck is going on?” 

“Hey, don’t be so scared,” Gojo says, then uses his teleport to phase himself closer. Nobu’s eyes widen, shocked. Scared out of his wits, with the story of heartbeat like he’s being hunted. “Tough guy like you has nothing to be scared of, does he?” 

“W-w-what…how did you…” 

Gojo shakes his head. 

“Don’t worry about it, man.” He says, voice calm and smooth and even. He’s surprised by how his emotions feel in his body. Like he’s so angry that he’s not. There’s something inside of him, the white waters that wade, that Gojo can feel. It’s strange “We’ve got about 5 minutes till the lights come back on.” 

For a while, they stand at a draw. No one moves. Not him, or Nobu, or the open oceans. It’s quiet for a dock. Even quieter for a dock in Tokyo, and Gojo’s not even using his abilities. He probably won’t need too, other than infinity - there’s not any good reason for him to exert himself any more than he must. 

Weeks of planning, weeks of watching, weeks of waiting. Nothing feels like it matters at the moment. He wants it to be over soon-ish. 

It’s not that Gojo is particularly sadistic. 

It’s just that, everything feels like it’s teetering over this very moment. He thinks it to himself quietly like someone trying to remember where they last left their keys. 

Briefly, Gojo thinks “I can’t go back,” after this. In the back of his head he just knows.

He envies this aggravating strangers' ignorance, too. 

“What do you want from me?” He says, stuttering - a gasping breath of fear in his lungs that snaps Gojo out of his thoughts. Gojo shrugs. 

“Nothing, really. I’m not short on money, you know? I make a good living,” He says, spouting off about nothing as he closes the gap between them. Stepping closer infinitely until Gojo backs him into the garage, into the tall tower of boxers where there’s no cameras and no witnesses “Hm…is there anything you can do to fix this?” 

No, Gojo answers mostly to himself, But wouldn’t that be nice? 

“P-please, I have—” 

“A son right? And an ex-wife, and a dead mom in Saitama. You didn’t think I came here without doing any research, did you? We’re the same in that way you know, I might be a frivolous - but hell if I’m not diligent,” 

He looks like he’s going to throw up. Gojo remains indifferent. 

“Who are you?” He asks, this time really wondering. With that hoarse voice of curiosity, of defeat.

Gojo hums.

“Good question. Who do you think I am?” Gojo poses and lifts his hands up. He puts them around his neck, pushing hard until his back is against the stack of boxes. It’s dark but Gojo can see everything. He keeps his open, tightening the grip of his hands slowly. 

Nobu tries to spit something out but the words get sputtered, muffled by lack of oxygen. 

“Do you think I’m a devil? An angel? God? I wonder,” Gojo says, staring. With his mask on, but his eyes opened wide. “Guess I’m kind of like a boogeyman,” 

Gojo can feel it. His body underneath his palms, gasping and struggling for air. He can feel his hands try to pry his hands off. He can feel his body slowly start to lose its air, how he deflates like a balloon. Gojo is unmoving, unfazed, unworried. He’s near motionless except the hard grip of his hand on his neck and the pulse that slows gently under his palms. 

It takes 5 minutes, maybe less, with all the strength in both his hands. Gojo isn’t counting. He holds on for maybe 2 minutes after that, just to make sure it’s not a fluke. He waits till the heart stops sounding in his ears and until the body is completely limp except for where Gojo is holding him away. He goes out sad. Useless, even. 

When Gojo stops, Nobu’s body drops to the floor with a dull thud. He stares at it for a while, then sighs. It’d be nice if he could just leave it there, but he does his due diligence. Picks it up from the ground with relative ease, over his shoulders. 

He walks it out towards the dock - the very edge, before tossing it in water and watching it sink. When it disappears from his sight, Gojo is left with his reflection in the deep blue. He meets his eyes for the first time in weeks, and knows he’s seeing exactly what he thought he would. 

His anger has settled, just barely. Just enough to be able to see the change in his own vision. With his Six Eyes, Gojo can see that there’s no turning back.

 With his mask on, he looks at himself, warped in the vision of the sea. The vision of him—crystalline and white and blue—murky and moving. 

Gojo jumps to the roof and turns the light on again. The power comes back. 

A dog barks distantly, over and over and over. Gojo watches the sun rise alone. 

__

The following weeks pass without a hitch. Gojo feels like nothing has changed. 

(But that’s not true. Everything is different. The same but different)

At the two week mark, winter has set in and Gojo is spending time with you in your apartment together. Currently, you’re cooking dinner (after carefully instructing Gojo to stay put in the living room.) Gojo is sitting watching T.V. He’s helping you grade papers at the coffee table, humming to himself. 

It’s about 7 when the news starts to play. A local news channel and a familiar face on the T.V. Gojo is surprised when the breaking news report airs. 

“Two weeks ago, a missing persons report was filed for ex-convict Nobu Watanbe. Sources say he was last seen working at a Dock in Tokyo - which experienced a power outage. It’s reported that Nobu seemed to have gone missing at the time, and hasn’t made contact with anyone since then. Could this be the work of a…” 

The rest of the report  Gojo tunes out. He turns his head slightly to see if you’ve noticed. Your eyes are glued to it., standing and staring silently. You place your spatula on a towel on the counter.

“We got word about a week prior to this,” You say, breaking the silence after some time without Gojo prompting. He looks at you “Akio started coming with his mom again and she gave me the story. It wasn’t unusual for him to up and disappear, but he hadn’t done so since Akio was born,” 

“That so?” Gojo says, nonplussed. You nod. 

“I feel guilty but,” You trail off, rubbing your arm anxiously “I can’t help but be… relieved. Just a little. I don’t want the guy to be dead or anything, but it,” 

Gojo stops you in the middle of your sentence. 

“You don’t have anything you need to feel guilty about,” He corrects, voice stern. You give him a sad look but he remains firm in his stance “He was harassing you for weeks. It’s only natural that you feel relieved, you know?” 

You’re not entirely content with the response, but you seem to know well enough this isn’t something Gojo will compromise on. You sigh, looking down at the floor. 

“Yeah. That’s true I guess, but still. I wonder what happened to him, or if he just decided to run away,” 

Gojo pretends to think about it. 

“Maybe. Otherwise…guess it was God’s divine punishment,” He says, continuing to grade papers. He doesn’t even look up as he says it. You let out a puff of air through your nose in amusement . 

“Yeah,” You say, “Maybe. I should thank him some time,”

Gojo hums.

“I don’t think that’s a bad idea,” 

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #manipulation cw #writing tag #dark content cw #yandere cw #noncon cw #murder cw #yandere!gojo #stalking cw #i tried to add the most major tags #lmk if you need more #ok. gn #part two will be out whenever ame has read lol

[updatingranboo]

Ranboo’s boundaries

Since I know some people really like to have a specific thread of boundaries, I thought I'd throw some together for Ranboo just for quick reference!

Ranboo's boundaries are not on a rule by rule basis, they prefer people use common sense. This list is not exhaustive.

Ranboo’s overall ask is to be kind! When you are interacting with people inside and out of the community, be kind first. Be good people and be respectful.

Don't do anything that would hurt Ranboo or anyone else in the community. That means no racism, antisemitism, ableism, homophobia/transphobia, sexism, general bigotry etc.!

If there’s something that ranboo has done that makes you uncomfortable, please call it out. Ranboo encourages being corrected and wants to know when he’s made mistakes. He is a human and he WILL make mistakes. They will always apologize and try to do better.

Ranboo is an adult and can speak for himself. if he has an issue with the way something is being done in the community, he will speak on it. especially when it comes to fanart, don’t harass artists on the specific ways they draw ranboo. If they’d had a problem with it previously they would have said something.

Again, Ranboo is an adult. You don’t have to baby them. He can swear and drink and stay up late like any other adult can. He knows how to take care of himself.

Ranboo also doesn’t need to be defended. People are allowed to not like him, and trying to fight people who don’t like him is unhealthy, pointless, and paints the community in a bad light. Uplift the good instead!

If someone is being weird or makes a mistake, don’t dogpile them. Politely correct them, and if they continue to push things block and move on.

Don’t mention Ranboo in places they aren’t relevant. Don’t chat hop to ask their friends about him, DM his friends to try to get in contact with them, just in general don’t view his friends as extensions of him. They are all incredibly talented people and doing that just hurts Ranboo and his friends because it makes them not want to make content together!

Ranboo is fine with all compliments as long as they aren’t explicit. they are fine with all gendered terms. He uses he/they pronouns and is nonbinary and gay. They aren’t okay with shipping.

Ranboo is strictly against AI content, including AI generated art and voice covers. Support artists!!

If you are intentionally going against these restrictions it will result in a ban in chat, which means a ban from watching all streams, as well as crossbans to all of their friends chats. Ranboo doesn’t ban on genuine mistakes, but if it’s repeated behavior their mods have full authority issuing bans.

Again, be kind. If you are kind, patient, and respectful, and you listen to criticism and try to be the best person you can be you are doing everything right! Happy boobing ❤️

#ranboo #ranboo update #important update #i don’t want this to be like one of those “these boundaries are law” posts #but i do think it’s good for ppl who haven’t been to every stream to see #this is all off the top of my head so please lmk if anything’s wrong! #boundaries

[chronicdisasterwrites]

these morons of jujutsu high

pairing: gojo satoru, geto suguru, shoko ieiri and fem!reader

genre + warnings: - this is NOT a poly fic. they’re all just vvv good friends. nanami and haibara were mentioned. mentions of blood, death and general jujutsu kaisen TW stuff. smoking, the word “goddamned” is mentioned. gojo being an idiot lmfao.

overall FLUFF !!

word count: 1219

authors note: so this is just a cute, heartfelt piece about the jjk troublemakers including and reader. i was thinking of making this the intro of a potential series but ✨ let’s see ✨

enjoyyyy <3

Is this really my life?

A question that always lingers in your mind.

Being a jujutsu sorcerer was no walk in the park. Death was a regular occurrence in your line of work. Deaths you anticipated, deaths you caused, deaths of friends, and even deaths of curses. None of them are ever easy to deal with. Nothing about this goddamned job is easy.

The smell of blood is as common to you as the smell of antiseptics is to a doctor. The sound of a curse evaporating into nothingness is ingrained in your brain as the sound of a child's first laughter is ingrained in the minds of their parents. Your hands are used to the touch of the cold steel of your weapons as a guitarist is used to the wood of their guitar.

This is your life. Your weapons are your instruments and the world is your stage. The only difference is, you have the blood of the crowd on your hands every. single. day. The blood of curses, the blood of humans, the blood of your comrades, and the blood of your own body.

How could it be that this life; so full of hurt, pain, despair, regret, fear, loneliness, anxiety, and depression, can also have so much happiness, love, excitement, companionship, adventure, humor, and serenity? That’s life, you suppose. But how can a life like yours have so much love alongside such hatred?

Your friends are the reason, you suppose.

These morons of Jujutsu High.

They feel the same emotions as deeply as you do. They have all felt loss, betrayal, grief, and death as much as you have.

Gojo Satoru had basically been raised as a trophy or a high-value product kept in perfect condition for the world to gawk at with wide eyes and ulterior motives. With the weight of the responsibility of being ‘Strongest’ hanging over his shoulders and daggers and spears pointed at him from every direction, he never had the chance to be a mere child. Which is what he was. Just a child. From birth to the present day, he has had eyes on him with the neon sign labeled ‘Strongest Sorcerer Ever’ blinking over his head. Always on his guard, being wary of who to trust. Not a moment to be a child. Not a moment to be a teenager and certainly not a moment to be an independent adult, free to choose who to love or what to do in life. He only has one thing to do. One obligation he has had since birth. Be the strongest. Throughout the heavens and the earth, he alone is the honored one.

It's a pretty lonely role for one person to bear.

Geto Suguru has kind eyes, a simple smile, and an extremely feared cursed technique; but what that smile and easygoing personality covers is his heart burdened with the horrors he has had to face in his life. He too, was born with the responsibility of using his cursed technique to help people. Born with the ability to absorb curses and later use them as he so desires. Living every day just killing and absorbing something that tastes like a rag covered in vomit and shit. Having to force your oesophagus to open up and force your mind to think of something more delicious whilst absorbing the thing you killed a few minutes ago is all second nature to Geto Suguru. Doesn’t mean it ever gets easier. But the smile comes easily to him and his voice stays soft and stable as his words soothe even those who hate him.

Because Geto Suguru wants to help those who are weak, and he would swallow all the curses necessary in order to do so.

Shoko Ieiri is the epitome of genius. Since she was a child she knew fully how to use the reversed curse technique; the ability to heal oneself and others, a technique even the strongest and most experienced jujutsu sorcerers have trouble mastering. Being so valuable means she has to stay in a lot, or go to missions alone a lot. She doesn’t get to choose missions, doesn’t get to accompany her friends to even ‘potentially’ dangerous locations. Being so valuable, she is the first person every jujutsu sorcerer goes to for healing and rejuvenation. Which also means she has to see a lot of her comrades lie on the steel bed, lifeless and cold and limp. She is the one who has to patch them up and she is the one who has to cut them open. Dealing with death and the aftermath is her job.

That's a lot of death for two eyes to see and two hands to explore.

Meeting them, knowing them, and growing to love them is the most rewarding experience your roller coaster of a life has had to offer by far. Checking out every single cafe Japan has to offer, milking Satoru of all his wealth by going out to eat and Satoru eating the most (ironically), pissing off Yaga-Sensei, celebrating birthdays, arguing and then making up with actions instead of verbal apologies, being the loudest group in every train station, smoke breaks with Shoko and Suguru while hiding away from Satoru, spending sleepless nights under the stars with Satoru, teasing Nanami and Haibara for acting like a 50-year-old married couple, fighting curses and always having each other’s backs. This was your family. However dysfunctional and however small.

So now, sitting in the classroom watching Suguru and Satoru bicker about who knows what this time, with Shoko sitting next to you fiddling around with Satoru’s sunglasses making faces and terrible impressions, bathed in the golden rays flooding the room through the windows as the sun goes down, you ponder the question; is this really your life?

You hear your name being called and the train of thought comes to a halt, as you look up to find honey-gold eyes staring back at you.

“What’re you thinking about so hard?” Suguru asks with his soft eyes and an even softer smile.

“She’s obviously thinking about how right I am and how wrong you are, Suguru,” Satoru interjects with his usual cocky smile and teasing lilt to his voice.

“Yeah, she definitely thinks a seal can beat a hippo in a fight to the death,” Shoko quips with unimpressed eyes and an obviously sarcastic smile.

Satoru slaps his hand on the desk so loudly that the sound reverberates throughout the entire floor you’re on, “HAH! Thank you Shoko, exactly what I’m saying. Of course I’m right.”

He wears an accomplished smile as the sarcasm completely flies over his stupid head.

“Gojo… I was joking. You’re obviously wrong.”

You can almost hear something crack in his head. The sound of disappointment.

“HEY just think about it okay? So a seal-“

As a new chapter of bickering begins between Shoko and Satoru, Suguru nudges your shoulder with a quirk of his eyebrows, silently repeating his previous question.

You look at him, look back at Satoru and Shoko and shake your head with a content smile and a huff of laughter, “Just thinking about life, I guess.”

With a hum and a smile Suguru relaxes on your other side as you both turn your attention to the ongoing argument unravelling before you.

Yeah. This really is my life.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #shoko x reader #jjk fluff #gojo satoru #geto suguru #shoko ieiri #gojo uses sarcasm but fails to understand it when someone uses it on him #shoko is babygirl #geto is babie boy #nanami and haibara are a certified married couple #yaga wants to die #i love them your honor #jjk x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #shoko ieiri x reader

[backupblogforjg]

We can love the person he has turned out to be without whitewashing the crappy things he has done

Guys, I know Darius is cool, but can we please stop victim-blaming Hunter and acting like the way even the good adults in his life treated him is NBD?

‘Cause I keep seeing a lot of “okay Darius was mean to Hunter at first, but Hunter was a brat who got the job because of nepotism, so...” comments.

And look, I really think people in general are hugely underestimating just how badly Hunter was screwed over not just by Belos but by *ALL* the adults around him.

1) Let’s start by establishing something first: Hunter was never a brat to anybody in the castle.

Now, to be clear, even IF Hunter had been a brat, people 30 years older than him should still have not made his bad situation worse. If there are two people, and one of them is an adult while the other is a kid, the adult is supposed to keep their cool even if the kid acts out. You can punch up but you can’t punch down.

But that point is moot because all the evidence we have points at Hunter being a little nerd who adored the adults around him and was desperate to please them.

Exhibit #1: Dana’s official art, where Hunter freaks out over being slightly less overworked because it will make Lilith hate him. Even with the mask, you can tell he has a frantic expression.

Exhibit #2: the Hunter’s Palisman Observation stream, when Hunter has a question and is looking for an answer, he reaches out to the Coven Heads to ask them. He sees them as wise and knowledgeable, and wants to learn from them. That makes it extra hurtful that “Darius ignored me, as per usual. Eberwolf hissed at me, also as per usual.”

Exhibit #3: in ASIAS, we learn that Hunter genuinely loves rules and authority. Does that sound like somebody who’d disrespect an adult in charge?

Exhibit #4: pretty much the entirety of ASIAS. The whole reason Hunter went to Hexside is because an adult who technically ranks below him gave him an order.

There is a grand total of TWO examples in the series where Hunter talks back to an adult.

The first one is when he sees Kikimora again after she tried to murder him.

Note that he never tells Belos what she did, even though he didn’t realise that she had recognised him by his burnt hair, so he thought that she had actually bought his “travellers found me” story and wouldn’t be able to respond to his accusations with any of her own. He could have easily thrown her under the bus, and actively chose not to, even after she almost killed him.

The second one is in ASIAS, where an angry Hunter confronts the Coven Heads after they rescheduled the meeting behind his back, right after they physically pushed him aside hard enough to almost make him fall and walked away smirking at his misery.

Note that, immediately after, he looks like this. Arguing with the Coven Heads makes him miserable. He doesn’t want to fight them. He’d much rather ask “how high” when they say “jump.” But they still casually assault him.

They all knew that Belos had given him the order to leads the meeting. And they knew that Belos is a control freak who is infamous for his lack of mercy. They knew that Belos would see their decision to reschedule as Hunter’s fault, even though they did it behind his back.

If you think he was being arrogant or whatever here, I want you to look me straight in the eyes and tell me that if your coworkers screwed you over in front of your infamously vicious boss and walked away smirking while pretending they can’t see you and literally pushing you around, you would totally keep your cool.

2) The nepotism excuse also doesn’t work.

Nepotism is supposed to make your life easier.

Hunter is a child covered in scars with huge eyebags and absolutely no social life whatsoever who rolls over and shows his neck the second an authority figure expresses any displeasure with him.

It’s plain to see that getting Belos’ “special treatment” is harming him.

Hunter eventually does pull out the “Belos’ nephew” card, in an attempt to get Darius to back off.

But by this point, he:

- knows he has disappointed Belos, something that he fears more than death (as per Eclipse Lake)

- has been assaulted by the other Coven Heads...

- ...who added insult to injury by pretending they couldn’t see him, really rubbing it in that they find him worthless

- and then Darius, a man twice his size and thrice his age, grabbed him, spun him around, and stole his clothes

Tl:dr: Hunter is not acting entitled here, he is acting *cornered*. He is lashing out because he is scared, and like any scared kid he is calling out to his “dad.”

And the moment Darius tells him that he has to earn his position as Golden Guard, Hunter immediately agrees to do anything. There is no entitlement there, only a desperate desire to be good enough.

3) On the Boiling Isles, a half-a-witch is at best a social outcast and at worst a target.

For starters, a half-a-witch can’t get an education. You have to be able to perform spells to be allowed to go to school.

Granted this is for Amity’s advanced class, but the idea is that you have to get there eventually, even if it takes you much longer than the gifted students. In order to go to Hexside, you must at least have the potential to use magic.

Before Luz came into the scene, glyphs were a forbidden knowledge that had been lost for hundreds of years. Add in that palismen are close to extinction, and there is simply no way for a half-a-witch to do magic.

So, you can’t go to school. But can you at least get a job?

Ah. No.

Eda gets robbed in public by an officer of the law, in plain view of a huge crowd, and their reaction boils down to “sucks to be powerless.”

A half-a-witch essentially has no rights. They are not treated as citizens. It’s completely legal to ban them from essential functions and to refuse them pay for their labor.

If Eda had not found the Selkiedomus’ treasure, she and her family would have starved.

The discrimination against magicless creatures is so bad that even Hooty, arguably the nicest character in the show, still expresses scorn for them.

Hunter wasn’t exaggerating in the slightest here.

Being magicless is basically the BI equivalent of being disabled in a society that actively favours eugenics.

 4) So, what did Darius do that was so bad?

Now, before anybody takes this post as Darius bashing, I want to bring up why he did it.

- Darius was clearly traumatised by the death of his mentor...

- ...who not only died, but also died in circumstances that must have been highly suspicious at best, so that Darius never even got proper closure and has been living with that open wound for years...

- ...in addition to the fact that Darius is extremely protecting of his loved ones, so that he must have felt the urge to protect the memory and legacy of his mentor...

- ...and that’s made ten times more painful if the replacement, who acts like the antithesis of everything his beloved mentor stood for, looks almost exactly like his mentor.

Can you imagine the grief is somebody you love with all your heart dies, and then some time later they appear to come back as an insult to everything they were?

So, I’m not denying that Darius had his own reasons here, nor am I arguing that he is a terrible person.

In case you don’t know, I like Darius so much I wrote a meta titled “Why Darius is a much better person than Fandom gives him credit for.” I like the guy, okay?

Nevertheless, he almost caused irreparable damage.

One of the reasons Hunter is so desperately loyal to Belos, is that Belos is the only one who never looked down on him for his lack of magic.

Now of course the bitter irony here is that Belos is racist against witches.

But Hunter didn’t know that.

All Hunter knew was that every person he ever met thought he was worthless for the way he was born, *except* for Belos, who said he was special.

And what does Darius do? He goes and reinforces Hunter’s belief that nobody but Belos will ever accept him.

Now, we know that Darius wasn’t really talking about magic there. We don’t know if all grimwalkers lack magic or just Hunter, but either way, later context clues indicate that he was talking about “strength of heart” or something like that.

Nevertheless, he most definitely came across like he was saying that Hunter has no place in the EC because he has no magic.

And Darius is not stupid. He had to know what he sounded like. And he didn’t bother correcting Hunter’s assumption, let him believe that the problem with him were the circumstances of his birth.

Why did Hunter befriend the Emerald Entrails? Because he accidentally stepped on a griffon’s tail. It was sheer dumb luck. If Hunter had put his foot a couple of inches aside, he never would have met Willow.

If not for a single stroke of extraordinarily unlikely good luck, Hunter would have gone back to the castle more convinced than ever that Belos was the only person in the world who could ever give a damn about him, the only one Hunter could ever love and trust.

Darius’ words would have driven him even further into the grasp of his abuser.

This is on top of the fact that Hunter canonically reaches out many times to Darius and Eberwolf over the years, and they always responded by giving him the silent treatment. Again, “Darius ignored me as per usual, Eberwolf hissed at me also as per usual.” How can they blame him for being an ignorant fanatic, if they have systematically rebuffed any and all of his attempts to talk to the only people in the castle who are not Belos’ stooges?

And on top of the fact that “you always do as you are told” is one hell of a line to give a kid *who gets blades thrown at his face* if he says a single word Belos doesn’t like. Hunter’s devotion to Belos is also his shield from violent beatings. If Hunter ever acted “rebellious” to Belos, Belos wouldn’t just send him to his room without dinner.

5) Has Darius changed?

Duh.

6) So what’s the problem?

Remember when people were like “Amity is doing right by Willow now, but she still needs to apologise”?

And when people were like “Alador has finally started walking in the right direction towards eventually becoming a decent father for his kids, but the first step was admitting that he treated them horribly”?

As far as I know, nobody was like “Amity is cool now so there is no need for her to say sorry to Willow, and Willow kind of sucked anyway” or like “Alador is cool now so wtf does Amity have to bitch about and move his hand away, just hug it out and ignore the past”?

What this whole tl;dr essay boils down to, is that S3 needs to have a scene where the good adults in Hunter’s life acknowledge that they did him dirty, without excuses and without victim blaming.

That’s all.

#toh #the owl house #toh darius #darius deamonne #toh hunter #golden guard #hunter wittebane #hunter deamonne #eberwolf the huntsman #lilith clawthorne

[ghulehunknown]

Papa Headcanons - Valentine’s Day 💕

Rated PG-13 for implied adult themes!

Oh my goodness, it’s Valentine’s Day! How will your beloved celebrate with you?

~💘💝💘~

Primo

Gives you a beautiful bouquet of roses grown in his garden

Surprises you with herbal tea in bed while he makes you breakfast

He arranges for everyone in the Ministry to send a secret valentine to an assigned person, so you all get a cute card or treat

He’s surprisingly very into theming so he wears a red robe and mitre that day, and eats lots of pink foods

He gives everyone a single flower, even his least favorite ghoul

Says he has a nice surprise for you later; lit candles everywhere, your favorite snacks, a bubble bath, and some lingerie for…certain activities after you relax 🛁

Secondo

Also surprises you with breakfast in bed, complete with one of those silver covers that he flourishes as if you just got fancy room service

Packs your lunch for you that day with a cute little note which you proceed to keep in your wallet for a long time

He relieves you of your Sibling job duties a few hours early and arranges for you to have a massage done by the Ministry’s massage therapist

He arranges Valentines karaoke for the ghouls and siblings, the setlist being rock’s greatest love ballads and also some Celine Dion mixed in

Bakes you a cake (or whatever your fave dessert is) and decorates it with pink heart sprinkles

His final gift of the day is flowers with some very nice jewelry…and also a new lingerie set. He wants to see you in the set wearing the new jewelry he got you, saying it’s a gift for him too and he wants to admire it

Terzo

His penis. He gives you…his penis, wrapped in a bow. “Breakfast in bed, mm?” he’d say (don’t worry, he offers to go down on you too)

Okay, okay, he actually comes back with coffee, cigarettes, and Pop-Tarts

Has flowers sent to you while you’re both at work so you’ll think of him all day (so all your coworkers/the other Siblings see what an amazing boyfriend you have)

Encourages everyone to leave work early that day so “you can all go fuck each other!”

Orders sushi takeout (or whatever you want if you don’t like sushi but author happens to love it) and has made a whole setup of pillows and blankets on the floor for you to watch cute movies while you eat dinner and snacks

Gives you naughty conversation hearts and says you have to do whatever it tells you to…they’re instructions for bedding you later

Scatters rose petals all over the bedroom, lights candles so the room looks very romantic and promises to make love to you like never before

Copia

You wake up to utter chaos - a burning smell from the kitchen and rats running all over the place. “Eh, it was supposed to be a surprise…we’ll get takeout.”

But you’ve already DoorDashed pancakes for the pair of you, because somehow you knew he’d be too stressed to handle everything

He’s genuinely very excited to celebrate Valentine’s Day so he can go all out to show you just how much he cares about you

He decorates his office and room the day before - all pinks, reds, and purples with hearts everywhere

He gifts everyone in the Ministry a cute little paper valentine, like the kind you used to pass out in elementary school

Says cheesy but sweet things all day, like asking you to be his valentine, making puns like “bee mine buzzzzzz,” etc.

Smothers you in hugs and kisses

Wants to watch rom coms with you before going to bed that night, complete with themed snacks

He bought you matching V-Day underwear

Nihil

Gets you one of those generic heart shaped chocolate boxes from the drug store

He also leaves a very mushy, sentimental hallmark card on your nightstand

“Why do we need a special day? I love you everyday!”

He doesn’t arrange anything for the Ministry as a whole but he does make sure to do the bare minimum for his partner

#the band ghost #ghost band fanfic #ghost bc #papa emeritus x reader #ghost band smut #papa emeritus i x reader #papa emeritus ii x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #copia fluff #copia is my husband #terzo fanfiction #terzo x reader #secondo x reader #primo x reader #papa nihil x reader #nihil emeritus #daddy secondo #papa primo #copia emeritus #papa emeritus iv #terzo #terzhoe #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfiction #ghost band headcanons #terzo my beloved

[pupcuck]

tw - sa mention, noncon mention, dark content discussed briefly but not explicitly

hi okay sorry for the unfathomable amount of bullshit clogging the tags the past few days. i keep seeing it labelled as gilfhub drama which is pissing me off as i haven’t said anything at all, i’ve stayed quiet throughout unless you follow me and read my posts. while i haven’t outwardly inserted myself into the situation im the one being witch hunted ig, i’m making one last statement which sounds way too serious for this corny and unserious situation.

anyway, i'm mostly making this for my own benefit, because i would feel more at peace after posting this lmfao. first of all, I’m being called a pedophile which is a fucking insanely serious claim to make with no concrete evidence! i’ve never written underage characters. if you’ve mistaken my ddlg content as pedophillia i beg you to get your brain checked! your skull must be so thick it couldn’t be caved in with a baseball bat. other than that i mainly write about LEGAL age gaps bc I am 19 and leon is fucking 47 as of now he is the creep actually.

i’m being called a rapist and a paedophile and all sorts of shit. im a victim of sa, it’s happened both at the hands of someone i trusted and at the hands of those i didn’t know well. some of my writing is to cope with this, none of my fics have ever romanticised rape and made it seem like something flowery and cute and fun? i don’t know who pulled that out of their ass but my fics that involve this sort of content are usually about toxic codependent relationships, it’s quite literally about trauma bonding.

this moves me onto my next point - people say this content belongs on ao3 and ao3 only. i don’t know if you’re 11 and new to the internet, to re fandom in fact, as dead dove has been a consistent theme within re fics since forever. since i was a kid i saw fics like that and even as a fucking 10 year old i managed to scroll and mind my business. tumblr has always had dead dove, when it rebranded and the guidelines changed they messed up their tagging system. this means that even if you tag tw incest it’ll remove your fic from the TAGS not from tumblr itself but from the tags as a whole. however, if you tag tw noncon your fic will stay up, it’s glitchy and dumb and shouldn’t be seen as a reliable source on why dead dove isn’t allowed on tumblr. that’s never been the case ever.

people who write dead dove don’t have to be victims and they don’t have to be mentally ill, they are also normal people with jobs who pay taxes and have normal fucking lives. because it’s simply fiction. people who read/watch american psycho are not murderers or rapists. people who watch any form slasher horror are not murderers. people who enjoy resident fucking evil and like wesker don’t fucking believe in eugenics. i could go on and on and on and on about so many different examples in extremely popular franchises.

as aforementioned, tumblr’s tagging system fucking sucks, so to combat this i give a warning even AFTER i explicitly tag my fics correctly that says ‘tumblr has started to remove fics that use tw non-con, tw incest and any nsfw tags in general. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags so i can have the same reach as other authors, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.’ for some reason I didn’t specify remove from the TAGS not from TUMBLR because tumblr doesn’t care 😭 that was totally my mistake for not checking if that disclaimer made sense but i guess i hoped the following sentence (‘as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags’) made it clear that i was simply speaking about tags. not tumblr removing my content.

if you are genuinely adults on this app, you should know that on the internet sometimes you will see things you don’t like! because it’s the internet and everyone is on here with their own opinions and their own tastes. it is YOUR responsibility to cater to your own needs by blocking content you don’t enjoy. so what another dark content blog pops up? as soon as you see a content warning you don’t like, BLOCK THE AUTHOR? or ignore it! scrolling is very simple. it’s insanely easy to mind your fucking business.

i'm kind of tired of the endless harassment both in the tags and in my inbox! if you are genuinely doing this in the name of victims and in their best interest just know you’re harming other victims in the process 😭 i am not easily triggered but the shit in my inbox is really gross and i got called a racial slur like… is fictional content that’s easy to block so deep to the point where you have to stoop that low? everyone copes how they cope, it’s not wrong and it never will be, psychologists recommend dark content as an outlet, you can literally google this. therapy is not a fix, it can’t fix mental illness. sometimes it doesn’t help. in my case counselling made everything worse. the ‘get help, get therapy’ comment comes from a place of privilege, not all of us have the money, the support system it takes to get therapy. some of us have had experiences where therapists discriminate against us. in my case that has happened, im a woc in britain they don’t care about us not about our psychical or mental health LMFAO.

im sure im missing a lot of what i originally wanted to say here, but overall i honestly wanted to clear my name of the pedo allegations lmfao because i’ve never written anything like that about underage characters or readers. anyway if any of you have a brain you can block dark content creators in a few easy steps! sorry again for yapping in such a formless, inarticulate way but i'm kind of exhausted by all the stupidity 😭

overall, dark content creators shouldn’t be allocated a little hovel in the corner of the internet in which they should privately discuss matters. we’re allowed to post it freely because CONTENT WARNINGS EXIST. dead dove will always be a thing and always has been. just because i post my content doesn’t mean it’s open for harassment and death threats and rape threats or anything? you can be an adult and get on with your day! and if you really need an outlet go talk to friends with the same opinions as you! i see ooc leon fluff all the time everyday and i don’t give a shit, i move on because leon isn’t real.

i pride myself on characterisation and if you have so obsessively read my fics to point out and circle random words in red that don’t correlate like we’re in a fucking crime show, then you would know that half the time i actually flesh out his character, i hate posting smut alone. i simply like exploring topics that are dark both to cope with my own problems and because i think they’re interesting to write about. however, as soon as something is mildly dark and sexual you guys cry mischaracterisation. leon also isn’t lighting candles and throwing rose petals but I don’t fucking judge what people write because if I don’t like I don’t read!

i promise, posting screenshots of my fics untagged with no warning is more harmful as you’re showing it to people who didn’t ask to fucking see it. i promise that harassing me will do nothing for you, you’re literally just sending vile shit to a real person who has struggled with the things she writes about LMFAO sorry again for yapping. i genuinely want to move on and post my regular shit but this has consumed the entire leon tag and i feel like im partly responsible. if you did get through this thank you! it’s mainly just ramblings and not read over so excuse me once again

#leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #tw sa mention #tw discourse

[decembercamiecherries]

Killugon fanfic recs!

While answering an anon ask I realized I wanted to talk some more about my favorite hxh killugon fics! Specifically the ones that I don’t think show up as much on rec lists but I still adore and have bookmarked on my own ao3 page. So here we are!

All of these fics have less than 1k kudos! I’m including the link, title, author, length, au tags and a general review. Enjoy~

-

One Flew East, One Flew West by Senket

31k words, 1 chapter

Mental institution/modern au

This is one of those really long one shots that goes by soooo quickly and you’re shocked and super sad when it’s over. The climax made my heart a c h e. Also I love how obsessed Gon and Killua are pretty much immediately lol. 

-

winner x winner by Miah_Kat

2k words, 1 chapter

Post-canon AU

Fun, short and intense. You can really feeeeel how much Gon and Killua want each other in this fic, it made me want to scream into my pillow in the best way!

-

worth it by Alabaster_Gunship (nimery)

16.6k words, 1 chapter

Soulmate/what if AU

Obsessed with this particular soulmate au because it doesn’t follow canon events in the sense that Gon and Killua meet as adults rather than kids. Gon chases after Killua when Killua refuses to be with him, Killua stands up to Illumi when Illumi threatens Gon, their connection is immediate and intimate at the same time…I love it thank you. 

-

to the moon and to Saturn by tomiawka

95k words, 10 chapters

Modern childhood friends AU

I remember reading this fic as it updated weekly because I liked it so much  that I couldn’t wait until the whole fic was complete to read it. The climax really hurt but like 90% of this fic is pure fluff, seriously Gon and Killua are so cute in this fic. 

-

missing you is a slow burn by mysteryburn

10.8k words, 1 chapter

Canon universe/post-canon AU

30 snippets about killugon that made me cry, laugh, get choked up, smile, and so much more. Reading this fic felt like a religious experience because it is just so beautifully written. 

-

harbor lights by balconys

1.2k words, 1 chapter

Canon universe/post-canon AU

Kind of similar to the above fic, this is a 30 sentence fic of various killugon moments at various stages of their friendship/relationship. It’s shocking how much of a punch each of these sentences give in the best possible way. I hope I can convey such specific emotions in such little words one day.

-

the hormonal high schooler’s guide to falling in love series by perennials, specifically part 1 and 3

10.1k words, 5 parts

Modern high school au

Gon is like…super intense in these fics and he is 100000% focused on Killua and getting romantically involved with him, which is exactly my favorite kind of dynamic. Gon is the star of a sports team while Killua is student president so it’s got some good jockxnerd vibes going on. 

#fanfic rec #killugon #hunterxhunter #this was fun

[wtfsteveharrington]

coffee and mint chapstick / bf!steve harrington x fem!reader x robin

content: listen... the family video era of robin and steve? it’s iconic. that’s why you hang around at night and not because you hate being away from them. things are normal until you wind up in a particular section you shouldn’t be.

- same energy as part one. threesome but exclusively robin x reader and steve x reader sexual interactions. just the reader getting passed between the two. have y’all heard that the eiffel tower is beautiful???

steve x reader - kissing, unprotected sex, spanking, choking, rough sex, marking, spitting, hand job, swallowing

robin x reader - oral (both receiving), nipple sucking, 69, praising, degrading. just general robin cheekiness.

also i feel like steve gives more dom energy, robin has semi - nervous switch energy, and reader is vocal sub but that’s up for reader to decide :)

authors note: idk if all readers have actually been in a family video but i went a lot as a kid. they pretty much all have two rooms off the main floor - one had video games and one had adult videos. needed to add that in for context,,, also lets pretend family video doesn’t have cameras okay thank u.

ps i think i like part two more than part one hopefully this lives up

word count: almost 4.5k

part one | part three | part four

You didn’t work at Family Video but you may as well start clocking in with how much time you spent there. It was already a little out of hand before the party, but after? 

Time was just better spent with Steve and Robin. 

You’re sitting up on the side of their front counter, kicking your feet through the air while Robin works on rewinding the returned newly VHS and Steve works on replacing the ripped up stickers on a few cases. 

Periodically you’d catch Robin’s eye and exchange this giddy little smile. You were wearing a skirt today on purpose and Robin’s mind would drift back to the other night every so often. 

Steve’s pouting across the small desk space, slouching his shoulders over and walking towards you with heavy feet. “I just don’t understand how people mess up the stickers. Like who looks at a ‘new release’ sticker and thinks hmm wouldn’t that be fun to rip in half.” The store is empty so he knows he doesn’t have to worry about offending any customers. It was later on Wednesday night and there had been a storm threatening to rain on Hawkins any minute now all day. Needless to say people weren’t exactly rushing in. 

He’s making you laugh, your boyfriend leaning back into you and wrapping your arms around his chest. “Awh, you poor thing. Having to put stickers on a box? How do you handle suffering like this?” Steve’s grabbing your knees, giving them a firm squeeze at the teasing. “You’re literally not even working. It doesn’t get much easier than just sitting here and looking pretty.” You lean in, pressing a kiss to the skin where his neck meets his shoulder. Then another one further up his neck. Robin feels her ears heating up as she catches the intimate act out of the corner of her eye. 

“You’re getting paid, Steve. This poor girl’s only reason to be here is us.” You’re laughing now, nuzzling your face into Steve’s neck before glancing up at Robin. “You should take it as a compliment. I’m literally the best customer this store has ever seen.” All three of you are laughing now, your hands resting flat against Steve’s chest as you feel it rumbling. You move to touch the edges of his vest, giving it a firm tug. “I do wish I had one of these though. Feeling a little left out of the club.” 

Steve’s stepping out of your grasp, giving you a dramatic twirl before grabbing the vest and tugging it together in the center of his chest. “Oh, this ole thing? Sorry, Babe. Only Family Video’s finest employees get one of these.” Robin’s nodding her head, ejecting the VHS now that it’s fully rewound. “It’s true. Wearing this token shade of green is one of the highest honors in the land.” Steve’s dramatically motioning over to Robin, giving you a very pointed look. “See? We just couldn’t expect you to understand.” 

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, giving them a dramatic eye roll. There wasn’t much you knew about the layout of this store, it all honesty you typically just went right to your spot on the desk. You did know that down the hallway on your left lead to a bathroom and a room with a curtain for the door. Surely that’s where the uniforms were hiding? You’d show them. 

One thing about your boyfriend, he’s gotten good at predicting what you’re going to do next. His grip on his vest is loosening and he’s already reaching out to try and keep you in place. “Don’t even think about it. There’s no uniforms back there.” Steve’s stepping closer to you and it’s now or never. You jump down from the desk, ducking his arms before darting towards the back of the store. Robin’s clearly entertained, letting out this gasp that gets cut off with bright laughter. Your boyfriend however? Screaming and cursing your name. 

He’s ripping the curtain open seconds after you got into the room and finds you stopped dead in your tracks. Your eyes scanning the room filled with cheesy porno titles and women posed just right to tease the potential viewer into buying that particular film. “I told you there’s literally not a singular vest in here. Now get out and maybe I’ll let you try mine on.” And maybe Steve could have convinced you to get out, had Robin not been ducking under his arm that’s holding the curtain open to meet you in the room. She wasn’t a minute late because she locked up the front door early. No, she didn’t lock you guys in here alone at all.

“Kind fuckin’ crazy, right?” Robin’s looking around the room, letting her fingers drag across one cover she sneaks a peek at every shift. “There’s not a huge section of lesbian movies yet but at least I get the covers to enjoy.” Steve? In full protective dad mode. He can’t explain it... Sure, he’s seen you do a lot but there’s something about watching you stare at the movie covers that makes his ears hot and his cock twitch. “Okay, okay. You’ve had your fun. Let’s get back to the floor before Mrs. Dorris comes in to rent Casablanca again.”

You giggle, grabbing one of the tapes off the shelf and facing it towards the other two. “Or maybe we should recommend Star Whores: Battle of the Boner to her. Seems like a good one.” Robin’s laughing, this bright sound that you’re slowly but surely getting addicted to. “You’re joking, I haven’t even seen this one. Do you think they braided Princess Leia’s pubes? That would be like, totally iconic.” 

Steve’s huffing at the two of you, watching as you guys flip over the box to examine the cover. Robin’s hand is coming to the small of your back as she peeks over your shoulder at the movie. That’s the only reason she’s touching you. No other reason at all. 

Then, once again without fully thinking it through, you just drop a - “I wonder if we should have filmed the other night. We could be making money hand over fist, right? Getting paid to be between two pretty people, not a bad way to make a living.” Steve and Robin are both torn between blushing and getting their ego’s puffed by being called pretty. They both love being pretty to you. 

You know Robin’s nervous rambling? It’s back in full force. “There’s nothing like that in here. Not that I’ve uh-... I didn’t look for myself. There was-” She’s taking a deep inhale but not nearly as deep as the hole she was digging herself “- You know, there was a customer who was oddly after a scene like that. And I’m like so close to becoming Employee of the Month so I just try to go above and beyond for our customers.” 

Steve? He was giving her a pointed look, willing her to stop talking until, “What do you mean you’re Employee of the Month? I helped get Keith a date the other night. There’s no way that isn’t going to top getting people a good porno recommendation.”

Their bickering is about to pick up full force until they hear you gasp as you accidentally drop the VHS in your hand. And maybe you’re playing a risky game, thinking only with the dull throbbing between your legs that’s threatening to pick up any minute. The box just happened to land slightly under one of the displays. Which means you have to get down on your knees, leaning forward until your chest is pressed to the ground and your ass is in the air. 

The two stop their argument, instantly distracted by the sight of you fully displaying the fact that under your skirt is just this sheer mesh lilac panty leaving nothing to the imagination. Robin’s watching you with her jaw tight and doesn’t miss the way Steve has to shift his hips at the view either. “Did you guys know it’s like really dusty down here?” 

No response.

Steve knows that the two of you follow his lead and he has a choice to make in that moment. 

Steve’s glancing between you and Robin. A Robin who won’t meet her eye but he notices the way her chest is moving faster, the tips of her ears are a bright red, and her bottom lip is being bitten on so hard he’s wondering if she can’t taste blood.

Jesus Christ, she really does love girls.

And then there’s you. Who’s taking entirely too much time to pick up the box, rolling your ass forward as you go to reach for a bouncy ball that had rolled under the display as well. You’re seconds away from asking how they thought the ball ended up in here when Steve’s voice breaks the tension in the room.

“You know, if you wanted us to fuck you all you have to do is ask.”

Robin’s jaw drops and she’s looking over at Steve with wide eyes. He’s giving her yet another pointed look, aggressively holding out his hand towards you and mouthing “You want her too”.

This whole silent exchange happens in the time it takes for you to get back up to your kneeling position, facing the two. Your skirt is still hiked up on your thighs. Your soft thighs that now all Robin wants to do is kiss and Steve wants to bite. Your hair is fluffed up from being thrown over your shoulder and your eyes are already getting heavy from know what’s coming next. Just ready to be closed from pleasure.

“Fine. I want you two to fuck me.”

Steve’s the one who moves towards you first, dropping to his knees as well before grabbing your chin to pull you into a rough kiss. You’re moaning into his mouth, reaching out to run your hands up his thighs before your hands quickly find his the button of his pants. You’re so wrapped up in your boyfriend that you don’t realize Robin’s behind you now until you feel her hands slide up under your shirt and toying with the cup of your bra. You’re crying out into Steve’s mouth at the feeling of your nipple’s being tweaked by Robin’s cold fingers.

You’re pulling Steve’s cock out of his jeans, and he’s got a firm grip on your wrist before you can touch him. “You know better than that, Princess. Needs to be wet.”

Robin’s lips are on your neck now, teeth grazing your heated skin as Steve’s bringing your hand between your own thighs. They both watch as your hand disappears under your skirt and you moan as your fingers come in contact with your clit. You’re driving them both crazy.

They hear how slick you are as you slide your hand into your panties, your head falling back on robin’s shoulder as Steve digs his fingers into your thighs. It’s Robin’s voice that encourages you to keep touching yourself. “Have you thought about us like this? Touched yourself thinking about me and Steve taking turns with you?” You nod pathetically, so needy. Your hips are rocking on your own hand, Steve’s hand delivering a sharp smack to your thigh. His voice is firm, “Use your words when we talk to you.”

“Yes. Steve didn’t come over last night and I spent the whole night thinking of you two.” Part of Robin wonders if she shouldn’t feel dirty being a side piece in a way. Or maybe she did feel dirty and she liked that feeling.

Maybe this would feel way different if it wasn’t you and Steve.

He’s looking over at Robin, jerking his head in a motion for her to lay back before he tugs off his shirt. “Lay back and let our girl take care of you.” Our girl. The three of you will never get past how that makes you feel.

Robin? A mess. She’s scooting back and making quick work of taking off her pants and underwear while you slide your hand out of your panties to wrap around Steve. Lazily pumping his length through your fist. You lean forward, lifting your hips to help him take off your panties and catching his lips in a tender kiss.

“Love you, Steve. Love you a lot.” He’s giving you a breathless chuckle before pressing a kiss to your bottom lip, your chin, then to the corner of your mouth. You know it takes a lot of trust for him to be okay with this. “I love you too, Beautiful.”

He’s rocking his hips up into your fist, gently pushing you until you’re facing Robin and your ass is pointed towards him. Robin’s got a hand covering between her legs and the other one semi nervously holding her bra tight against her chest. “Listen. You can’t look at my tits, Harrington.” Robin doesn’t have the comfort of being crossed this time around. The three of you only drunk on each other. She’s a nervous girl sometimes. Threesomes with her best friend and her best friend’s girlfriend who she’s kinda got a crush on? It’s a nervous situation.

Steve’s scoffing now, twisting up his face in confusion. “Can’t see your - Robin! My literal whole cock is out! My nipples are out!” She’s using the hand that’s still holding her bra to flip Steve off, making you giggle as you rock your ass back towards Steve. “Yeah your nipples are different.” You’ll never get over the switch that happens from being so comfortable with one another to those brief moment’s where Robin’s nerves get the best of her.

Leaning up, you effectively cut Robin off by distracting her with a kiss. “Can I see your pretty boobies, Robin? Just wanna kiss them.”

You’ve got her nodding now, caught up under your spell. You take a moment to kiss down her chin, her jaw, her neck, fluttering kisses across her collarbone. Robin’s letting go of the death grip on her bra and you give such an appreciative hum of approval as her nipples come into view. “See? So pretty.”

Robin’s convinced she’s going to combust as you wrap your lips around her rosy bud. Tongue swiping over the sensitive skin. She’s dragging her nails up your back, letting you take a moment to worship her left nipple before moving to her right. You feel Steve’s hand between your thighs now, pressing a finger into you while using his thumb to swirl around your clit.

He’s watching as you instantly start fucking yourself back against his finger and gives you another finger to wrap around. “M’gonna fuck you soon, get comfortable for me.”

You moan against Robin’s skin at his promise, your lips popping off of her nipple and you lean back up to get another kiss. “Can I eat you out again, Robin? Wanna keep practicing with you.” She’s nodding enthusiastically, practically shoving your head down towards her exposed pussy.

Steve waits until your arms are wrapped around Robin’s thighs and you’re pulling her core towards your mouth before taking his hand away from your pussy. Robin’s hands are rubbing your arms, savoring as you kiss her thighs. “You tasted different tonight. Minty? Kinda tasted like mint.” Nodding against her thigh, you move your kisses to either side of her mound. “Got something new the other nig-“

“Jesus Christ you two talk too much.” There’s a firm hand on the back of your neck that’s pushing your face into Robin’s pussy. You hear her gasping above you and feel Steve’s hips giving you a sharp stroke. Both of them effected by the action. “Holy shit, Harrington. Did you just-…. Did you just shut up your girlfriend with my pussy?” He’s gripping your hips, holding onto the tender flesh best he can before pounding his length into you. Steve can’t even dignify Robin with a response, afraid if he really acknowledges what happened that he’d be finishing way too soon. 

Robin’s throwing her head back once the shock wears off, your name coming off of her lips in a way that’s so deliciously broken. She’s wet for you. You drag your tongue up her slit, getting right to work.

Funny thing about Family Video? It’s carpeting fucking sucks. You’re almost getting a little over stimulated between Robin’s wet pussy on your tongue, the carpet burn forming on your knees, and Steve relentlessly jackhammering his hips into you. So rough and possessive and maybe trying to show off.

Robin’s hand is coming down to put a finger on either side of her clit since your arms are still wrapped around her thighs. Holding her against your face and holding on for dear life as Steve fucks his cock into you. “Let me take care of my clit. Dip your head down for me, Honey. Good. Keep lickin’ me like that.” You’re obedient. Tongue lapping through Robin’s folds, dipping into her hole. She shows her affection towards you by bringing her free hand to rub your back, your shoulders, stroking your head, just gently checking in on you while you take care of both of them.

She’s cooing at you when she feels your tongue stop against her pussy after one particular thrust, your both just resting open against her, “I know, Honey. Steve’s doing such a good job fucking you, isn’t he?” Let’s all be honest, Steve eats up praise. His hips are getting tired but he’d be damned if he’s giving up now. “Don’t you want to come for him? Show us how good you feel, Baby. You love being this filthy, don’t you? Eating me out while your doting boyfriend fucking you?” 

You can feel yourself dripping down your inner thighs. There’s a stray thought somewhere in your brain praying you don’t leave a stain on the carpet. 

Steve’s delivery a sharp smack against your ass, his handprint already taking the form of a red wilt on your ass. “Such a good girl for us, aren’t you? Letting us use your body like this. C’mon, Sweetie. Come on my cock.” 

You’re resting your sweaty forehead on Robin’s inner thigh, pressing haphazard open mouth kisses to her heated skin when you’re able to think about anything else besides Steve stretching you out. He’s bringing up a knee, slightly adjusting his position and now he’s hitting so deep inside of you just right.

You know, Steve being able to watch you and Robin and was little more of an erotic experience. He likes girls, so it makes sense it would be. Yet, Robin can’t help but to get herself entranced by the view. Remember how we talked about Steve stealing videos from the back of Family Video? Yeah, he wasn’t slick. Robin caught on the first night but instead of calling it out, she just followed his lead. 

She stuck to lady on lady scenes only, but sometimes she had to wait through watching a poor girl obviously fake her way through being fucked. She always felt bad for how obviously the guys didn’t actually care, more concerned with angles and getting themselves off. None of those scenes even slightly compare to what’s happening in front of her. 

It’s the way Steve knows your body. He’s grabbing a fist full of your hip, pulling up towards his cock which leads you to rest your head just right on Robin’s thigh so you can look back at him. He is taking notice as you wince when your knees come back in contact with the carpet. “Rug burn,” you’re explaining with a breathless and broken sounds. He’s frowning for a split second, pulling your body up towards him since it wasn’t doing my good for Robin at the time. He’s cupping your chin which you take as a sign to part your lips and then Steve’s fingers are in your mouth.

“Lemmie know if it’s too much, Baby.” His two fingers are dragging along your tongue causing you to gag around them. Steve’s hips buck at the sight, the sound, everything. 

Robin’s convinced it’s the way you so clearly trust him and he so clearly loves you that has her so entranced. She has to find that connection and soon. Maybe a little part of her is worried that she sees a future where you look up at her like that too and you know she loves you too and her and steve become blubbering fools over you but that’s a problem for a different day.

Steve’s still fucking up into you when you give out this sharp cry of his name as he gets you just right. Robin’s eyes are focused on you, the way your boobs are bouncing, how much pleasure is on your face. “Wanna watch you come.”

And you do. Oh God you do. Steve’s not slowing down and you reach down to desperately grab his thighs, just needing something to hold onto as you feel the tension burst in your body. There’s nail marks being left on his skin, neither of you complaining.

The feeling of your pussy gushing and clenching around his cock? It’s snapping Steve out of doting boyfriend and into a man who just needs to finish. 

You know Steve’s favorite place to put his load? Deep inside of you. It’s risky but you both figure there’s so many more risky endeavors happening at Hawkin’s. Tonight though? He’s settling for your throat, not sure if Robin’s done with your pussy but assuming she 100% would be if he came in it. Understandably. The three of tour were completely overboard but navigating the waters the best you could. 

Sometimes you can read his mind just how he can read yours.

You crawl forward once your brain catches up, trying to ignore the way you’re throbbing around nothing and so sensitive after your first orgasm.

He’s cupping your head once you drop to all fours in front of him, making you stay in place so he can effectively fuck your throat. The closer Steve gets, the less gentle he is. Each time you gag around his cock, his hips sputter and you’re rewarded with a “pretty girl” from your boyfriend. Your only warning is your name getting choked out of his throat before you feel him releasing into your mouth. So warm and just for you.

Steve takes a moment to recover, grunting his appreciation as swirl your tongue around his shaft as you pull him out. “Lemmie see.” And you know what he’s after. 

You hold your tongue out as Steve’s hand comes back to cupping your chin. “Swallow.” A firm command. You notice his hand sliding down your throat and if his cock wasn’t done, the feeling of you swallowing his cum would sprung him back into action. 

You give yourself a couple of minutes after Steve comes, letting yourself get back to Earth. Once you can process the situation again? All you can think about is Robin. You’re grabbing Steve’s shirt, wadding it up in a ball before laying back flat on the floor. Robin takes the hint, scrambling to her knees, crawling over until she’s overing your face. “Squeeze my knee twice if you need air, okay?” In all honestly, she can suffocate you all night. 

She’s lowering herself onto your mouth, this pretty little grunt coming from deep in her chest as your tongue quickly starts flicking over her clit. You’re making these wet smacking sounds as you suck and lick every drop she gives you.

Robin’s rocking herself down against your tongue, leaning over to look at your wrecked pussy. She’s got a hand on either side of your mound, pulling you apart gently to get a better look. You feel her gently blowing against you and you’re rewarding the action with a flat lick to her clit. “Look at your poor little hole… Needs someone to kiss it better, huh?” 

You know, Steve didn’t think we could miss much while he zoned out for a few minutes to recover from his orgasm. But when he looks back and sees the two of you eating each other out? He thought nothing would top last time, but now he knows there’s no way you’ll ever top this moment.

The three of you were in deep. 

You feel Robin’s hips start moving desperately as she humps your face so you pick up the speed of your tongue, getting greedy at the idea of feeling Robin coming into your mouth like this.

The feeling? It must be mutual because her lips are wrapped around your sensitive clit. Giving it her rough, undivided attention. Without saying it, you just know she wants you to come with her.

Neither of you speak a word, just diligently working on eating the other out. Robin’s orgasm hits her first, her hips just twitching against your face. Hearing her crying out against you has you following her lead shortly after. The both of you just staying frozen in place as your body is overwhelmed with the sensation.

——

The three of you lay together after that. Your back against Steve’s chest and Robin’s head in your lap. Your fingers dragging through her hair while Steve investigates your knees and makes a mental plan to stop on the way home to get everyone bandaids and ointment. Not that anyone would complain but he couldn’t have his girls hurting on his watch. One thing about Family Video is that it has a time sensitive security system. They have until 30 minutes after close before it automatically sets itself to make sure people are just hanging around for extra hours.

So imagine Steve’s concern when he looks and - “Holy fuck. Get dressed! We have 9 minutes!”

The three of you are a fucked out, giggling mess as you scramble to get dressed and your clit is way too sensitive for this situation. You’re laughing as you run for the door, Steve and Robin trying to panic their way through their closing duties.

You watch them look around, frantic to figure out what they’re missing. “Don’t forget to clock out!”

——

Just know that Steve did stop at the store to get you guys recovery items. Drinks, snacks, extra large bandaids for your knees that make you look so crazy but you love watching him take care of you so you don’t complain.

That night? His parents are away on his dad’s business trip so you not Robin make a bug fuss about leaving.

Which is how you fall asleep in Steve Harrington’s bed, your warm boyfriend rubbing your back while you doze off and Robin on the other side of you. The two of you face each other, secretly stealing a kiss or two or five until you all drift off.

Like I said, the three of you were in deep.

#robin buckley #robin buckley smut #robin buckley x fem #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley x you #steve harrington x robin buckley x you #stranger things smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #robin buckley x reader

[alwaysonf1]

finally?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 2.9k

Warning: Language

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: N/A

Though the plans were made in advance for security reasons Charles found himself not wanting to go out to the club that Carlos and a few of the other pilots chose. He was feeling down despite the recent podium and wanted nothing more than to just sit in his hotel room until it was time for his flight the following day. 

But Pierre had demanded that he get off his ass and get to the club. Kika was in the background saying things of a similar nature, though it was much nicer than the Frenchman said it. Charles wanted to tell him to fuck off, but wallowing in his room wasn’t the way he wanted to leave off a relatively good week. That wasn’t who he was. He kept pushing even when he’s at his limit.

Something that seemed silly when it was being applied to partying and not his job or some more important life matter.

It’s why he was sitting in their little elevated VIP section watching the crowd. It was still early in the night, so most of those who’d pledged to show up were still there away from the general public. Everyone would trickle out and let others in as the night went on, but it was agreed that to start they always wanted to keep everything as chill as possible.

Except Charles doesn’t feel chill. He knew Iman would be there, but it wasn’t until she greeted him with a hug that it really sank in. Or more specifically, it wasn’t until then that he addressed the small fraction of him that was down because of a realization about his feelings.

Charles can be a bit dense sometimes, but he’s no longer playing, oblivious to his feelings. And that includes the one that fills him the moment he saw her. He wanted to monopolize her time. Flirt with her in a way that was much more blatant than usual. Get her to dance with him. Kiss her.

That last one is why he finds himself glued to his seat.

On more than one occasion he’s been face to face with Iman - her height only being a little more than an inch under his - and gotten caught up in how soft her lips look. How he wants to know how they would feel if he gave into the urge and kissed her. But Charles was in deep denial then, so it was easy to lie to himself and combat those feelings. Now he was open to them and feeling like a schoolboy with a crush. 

He wasn’t sure how to approach Iman on the subject. Pierre laughed in his face when he gave the option of sitting down and having a talk with her about it. While the Frenchman did concede that an adult discussion would be a good idea, he thought Charles was being too clinical. He didn’t need to drown it in romance, but there did need to be something more than just revealing it like they were in a meeting. Carlos, Max, and every other driver he asked agreed with Pierre.

Max suggested talking to Lewis or Logan, but that just added to the schoolboy feelings. He was nervous and also a little afraid of their response. Which was equally as silly when he realized how much they were for him and Iman once the haze of his own avoidance lifted. The two of them were doing a lot of the heavy lifting with trying to get either of them to see the light, but both were stubborn.

Well, no. Charles was stubborn. Iman was just dealing with a man who was in relationships with others.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

“Do not tell me you are a light weight now?” Pierre asks as he sits beside him.

“I’ve barely had this drink.”

“Ah, so you still haven’t said anything. Must I do it for you?”

There’s a playful expression on Pierre’s face and Charles knows that he’d never do that to him, but he still levels him with a glare. All that does is cause the Frenchman to laugh and Charles is tired of his laughter. He feels like a mess, and no one is helping him out. Well, they are, but not in the way he needs. There feels like there is no answer.

And he feels like a child. Incapable of communicating his feelings when it should be so easy to say or do so when he has the words in his arsenal. His previous relationships alone should be the perfect insight on how to handle things, but even that doesn’t feel right. Doesn’t feel good enough for Iman. Another thing that’s driving him up the wall because he believes all his ex-girlfriends were treated with such care when approaching the subject and yet he knows that isn’t the truth. Not even the reality of the other, outside, reasons for his hesitation are enough to not feel a little bad about that. 

In his small spiral he’s tuned Pierre out and a slap to the arm brings his attention back to the Frenchman, who is rolling his eyes at him. Even Kika looks a little disappointed in him and that does not help Charles with his current turmoil at all.

“All this not listening, tsk. If you paid attention, you’d know what needs to be done,” Pierre says.

“I…”

Before he can even begin to defend himself or tell his friend that all the advice everyone has given is bad, Kika has pulled him off the couch and they abandon Charles for the other side of their VIP area. 

A huff escapes him, and he takes a sip from his glass, debating if he should drink the whole thing and order another. Or multiple. He knows doing that isn’t wise of him though, he might just blurt out what he wants to say and that feels even worse than all the floundering he’s doing to find the right thing to say. He can’t handle the level of embarrassment that such a thing will bring.

As if he isn’t already embarrassed since almost everyone on the grid has something to say on the matter and sees how much of a mess he is about the situation. Zhou even told him to get it together, in much nicer language than that.

Another sip, another sigh.

Then the bench he’s sitting on shifts. Charles turns his head and sees Lewis. In an instant his heart begins to race. And it’s not helped by Lewis not even glancing in his direction.

“Just do it,” Lewis says.

“What?”

“Talk to her.”

“I don’t…”

Lewis levels him with a look that shuts him up. He knows that there was an excuse about to come out of his mouth and that Lewis knows it too. Charles promised himself he’d stop talking himself out of reaching out to Iman in the way that he wants. And while at a club where she’s the slightest bit tipsy - and so is he - isn’t where he imagined if he doesn’t do it now, he’ll keep putting off not doing it. And then she may no longer be available.

That last thought comes in as he notices a group of men hyping up one of them and pointing in her direction. They’re all trying to be subtle, but every time she glances in their direction it’s so obvious, they were looking with the way they try to appear like they weren’t.

The one who clearly was the chosen one to talk to her squared his shoulders and took a breath. Charles is out of his seat and by Iman’s side in an instant. His fingers caressed her arm until they took hold of her elbow. The grip was gentle and didn’t showcase any of the jealousy he feels. At least he hopes it doesn’t.

Iman turns to him and though she’s smiling as she does, it brightens when she looks at him. Charles is sure he forgets how to think for a second and his own bright smile forms.

“Hi,” she says.

There’s an excitement to it as if she hadn’t seen him at all tonight.

“Hi.”

Inside Charles' head there is a repeated chant to keep calm. Maintain a coolness that he’s usually very sure he has, but not at this moment.

“Finally want to have some fun, Sharl? I thought you were going to sit there all night like some stuffy old man with his precious bourbon.”

“I am not stuffy. Or old.”

She pulls a face that further offends him, but not so much that he doesn’t remark on how beautiful she looks even now.

“You sure?”

Charles scoffs. “Dance with me.”

“What?” she sputters.

“Dance with me. Come on the floor and dance with me. I will show you how I am not stuffy.”

Gob smacked is the word Charles would use to describe Iman as the seconds tick by. His nerves are heightening out of fear that she plans to reject him, but he also finds it cute. With a shake of her head, he watches her pull it together. There are questions in her eyes, but she completely turns so her body faces him and smirks. It’s cocky and a little mischievous.

“Can’t waltz here.”

“I know how to dance in a club.”

“Okay.”

Not wanting to risk her saying no, Charles’ hand slips from her elbow to her hand. His fingers thread with her’s and he leads her away from those she was talking to out down the stairs out of VIP. On their way they pass the group of men who all look unsure if they want to glare or turn their focus on figuring out how to get pictures with Charles. He’s very familiar with men who are upset with him for “stealing” a girl but can’t help but be a fan of him. He’s not so full of himself that he thinks that with all of them, but there are many who often fit into that category. 

He throws them a smile as they pass and head to the dance floor.

Most clubs they go to tend to have people milling around and very little dancing being done. A picture of how far the clubs and parties he saw on TV and heard stories about had changed. It made them a bit boring, but Charles didn’t really know a scene like that so him missing that time period wasn’t as strong as someone who lived it up in the 00s and 10s. 

It also meant he had limited experience knowing how to party. At least in the way Iman does. She spoke of the fun times with friends and her brother at parties and clubs that were focused on the music and dancing part of things. So, despite her being a few years younger than him, she knew what the hell she was doing.

But he wouldn’t let that stop him.

The moment they find space Iman begins dancing, joy dancing across her features and a glint of challenge in her eye. She’s seen Charles dance at places like this and she knows he only has a couple things in his arsenal, but he wants to prove her wrong.

For a second, he stands there, a slight sway to his body. He watches her like he’d watch a driver practicing. Taking in her every move and of those around them. Then he moves with her, matching her energy. It’s awkward and he feels that deep in his bones, but as time ticks on he finds comfort. Or he simply stops caring about being awkward.

His eyes are intently on Iman because he can’t look away from her even if he tries, but also because he wants to see the shift in her eyes. She goes from sure that he’ll back down or not keep up and to a sprinkle of shock and happiness. 

She wants to dance with him. That is what he’s sure of and it makes him all the more certain that he needs to continue out of his comfort zone. 

They dance back to back songs and he does his best to keep up with Iman. There are moments where he feels very out of place and he catches the eye of Max who gives him a thumbs up, but also laughs at him. That makes him want to leave the premises immediately, but he stays. He continues dancing as if he has zero cares in the world other than having this time with Iman and the voice that reminds him that this will probably end up on the internet tomorrow is too faint for him to think too much about.

Pierre glides through at some point, making them both throw back three rounds of shots before he takes his place a few feet away to dance with Kika. 

The vibe of the music changes and the crowd goes crazy. It’s more on par with what Charles is used to with the DJ friendships he has, and it puts him back in his comfort zone. He strays from the way Iman is dancing and goes into something that is more jumping than anything. And she matches that energy.

Despite knowing that she prefers a different way, Iman has changed to match his energy. To give him space to be more at ease. A louder voice in his head says that he’s making the action too large, but he knows Iman. She’s usually the vibe setter and everyone else gravitates to what she’s doing. Not the other way around. 

A smile so wide it hurts forms on his lips, and he feels sure about things. More certain than he has since he first pulled his head out of his ass.

The fun he was having amplifies and soon enough it’s all their friends just bouncing and dancing around and screaming the lyrics to any song that lasts long enough for them to figure out the words. 

It’s some of the best fun Charles has had this season so far.

The DJ stops playing so many intense songs back to back and it gives Charles time to catch his breath. He’s sweaty in a way he doesn’t love, and his chest is moving rapidly, but he’s happy. Despite the dip in the club’s vibe, he’s still feeling like he’s on a high.

In front of him Iman says something, but the DJ and crowd are so loud he can’t hear her. Charles leans closer to hear her better.

“Can we take a br…”

A body slams into Charles from behind and it sends him into Iman, who is also stumbling due to someone next to them tripping into her a little. Charles is able to regain balance, but being hit on two sides doesn’t do Iman any favors and she begins to fall back. Without a thought his arms are around her and he’s pulling her into his chest. Because of her reaction time she flails a little not realizing he’s stabilized them and then looks at him with a bashful expression after hitting him in the side. 

“Sorry,” she mouths.

“It’s okay.”

With her still in his arms Charles looks around for the culprit and sees a man who looks deeply apologetic behind him. From the frozen group of men, a little farther back Charles figures out they must have pushed him harder than expected and that set off a domino effect. When they notice Charles looking at them, they shake off their daze and utter multiple apologies before scurrying off.

Shaking his head, he turns to look at Iman again. She wears an amused expression and he’s grateful that the incident hasn’t ruined her mood. It hasn’t seemed to catch the attention of anyone except those close enough to deal with the fall out, but they’ve all returned to minding their business.

“Idiots everywhere,” Iman says.

Charles laughs softly. “You would think their parents raised them better.”

“You would.”

The smile on Iman’s face as she says it entrances Charles. He loves it when she smiles and this one is just as pretty as the others, but it does something to him. His eyes flicker from her lips to her eyes and after a moment he notices that she’s doing the same. 

Do it. The voice in his head says. 

Not even thinking to fight it, he tilts his head down. He hears the catch of breath in Iman’s throat, but she doesn’t move away so he continues until his lips touch hers. They’re as soft as he imagined and the feel of finally getting to kiss them drowns away any doubt he’s had. Which only makes him continue kissing her. He’s gentle and slow and he wants to keep it that way. This is a first step, but then Iman presses closer. She pulls away for a moment and then deepens the kiss, moving at a heightened pace. 

Charles can barely think of anything but kissing her. He could look like all those couples he makes snide remarks about being one second away from public sex, but he wouldn’t care, not even a little bit.

It’s unclear how long they stay that way, but it can go on for much longer if he has it his way. Which he knows he can’t.

They pull away, chests rising and falling at the pace they were when they’d danced for who knows how long. The part of him that feels like he’s messed up flutters to the surface, but he doesn’t really feel it. More than anything he’s sure that he’s finally found the right course of action.

#charles leclerc x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 x black!reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 fanfic #charles leclerc x black!reader #charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc fan fiction #charles leclerc fanfic #formula one x oc #formula 1 x oc

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hello this is a question that came about from watching the new Fallout TV show and a character named Maximus. He’s a relatively neutral character and his arc is very wonderful coming from a writer and big book reader but I noticed that the average viewer doesn’t understand his character and actually hates him… my question is as an author is it okay to make your story more digestible to people who lack perception since it’s the general audience for mainstream media and how do you do that without losing your story? Idk this was probably too complex and a stupid question 💔

Not a stupid question! There are no stupid questions.

Going to unpack this a bit though. (I haven't seen the show.) First some general points, but then some advice on balancing complexity in a story.

So. Some things to get out of the way:

You don't know what the average viewer is thinking. Just because their opinion on a character is different to yours, doesn't mean they lack perception. Do we sometimes have an issue with critical thinking in the modern age? Yes. But we also live in an age where people bring a vast array of different insights and experiences into the stories they read/watch. 99% of the time a story doesn't have just one right interpretation, especially if it is a more complex narrative.

You CAN try to write a story that is more digestible to a general audience, but if you do have concerns about the media literacy of the general population, focusing on providing unchallenging stories is not the fix to that. People learn through engaging with interesting work and having discussions about them - e.g. when they are given the opportunity to. Perception, like anything, is a skill trained with practice. No one's born with it. There's no inherent us/them that can't be changed.

Will you be happy and fulfilled as a writer writing stories that you feel are dumbed or watered down? I know I wouldn't end up writing the versions of stories that I want. Similarly, you probably won't then attract the readers/audience that most resonate with your ideas, because you don't give them the chance.

Generally speaking, people hate being talked down to. As a reader/lover of stories, if I thought a writer was talking down to me and thought I was an idiot who couldn't understand the themes/plot, I wouldn't want to have anything to do with their stuff. It's a horrible feeling, isn't it? It's like being written off before you even leave the gate.

Okay, now some advice: Amazing children's books are a great example of stories that are simplified to appeal and meet the audience where they are at, without losing the richness that makes them resonate and engage readers/audience. However, there are adult examples too. They share some qualities.

These often have:

Clear structure (there are a myriad story structures that you can use to make a story hit beats the reader expects and create a sense of satisfaction, while still giving you room to play.)

High concept story idea/plot (so, stories that can be explained/pitched in a line. E.g. children are forced to fight in televised death matches (Hunger Games), a famous author is imprisoned by a dangerous fan who doesn't approve of his new work (Misery), 'it's jaws in outer space!'). These stories have simple premises that often have wide-appeal, but the stories themselves can be complex.

Engaging main character(s) with a clear goal/agenda. They don't have to all be morally pure, but for an easy win, your character should be likeable/easy to root for. In a children's book, e.g. at the simplest level, these are often also high concept. (E.g. a mouse wants to be heard so is convinced it needs a lion's roar to be loved - The Lion Inside by Rachel Bright)

There are, of course, exceptions to every rule. Game of Thrones was phenomenally popular, for example, but I don't think it's an easy to sink into world/simple set of characters.

Watering down an existing story to fit a different target audience is often not going to lead you to write the best story. This is because it's like trying to fit a triangle into a circle, or make a banana bread into a savoury scone. However, there are plenty of stories with mass-appeal that offer readers a variety of different levels to engage with them, so it is very possible to write a brilliant story with mass appeal. But you work from the foundations up, not from the finished product down.

I hope this helps!

#writing advice #writing talk #writing tips #creative writing #fiction writing #writing #on writing

[targaryen-dynasty]

Fandom can be overwhelming. And a ton of writers surely can agree that it puts an immense pressure on your shoulders you sometimes struggle to take care of.

And it was like that for me quite some time ago. Back when I started writing, I was a half-baked writer and even less experienced with fandom etiquette in general. I just stumbled into fandoms, not really knowing what it all was about. After posting my first fanfic that was based on a role play storyline a former friend and I had, and seeing how well it did, I got lost in the rush of attention and interaction as well in the people asking for a part two and what not. I am wiser now, and things like that don‘t affect me anymore (honestly), but back then, it led me to resort to shitty things to be able to post stuff as quickly as possible.

And that‘s plagiarism.

Many, many (traumatic) things have happened to me in the years before that, and while that‘s no excuse, knowing it might give an insight of what‘s been going on with me.

Just so you understand, it all has happened more than a year ago, I got called out by the original author and very quickly deleted the few things related to it. I have also not done it again since then, but it has still happened. I have lifted a good bit of that writer’s things of a series I truly enjoyed, yet it didn’t help with my anxiety. But I still received recognition for it and should feel good, right? It felt nice, right? No, no it didn’t.

I refused to say it out loud, because I was ashamed and afraid, and should have known better back then (although there was no way for me to know. I was inexperienced in writing, fandom, and some life things in general). But with all the fandom bullshit going on now, and these informations in the hands of the wrong people, I deem it most fitting to admit it now to free myself of that burden and take back my power. There are screenshots where these people admitted they wanted to call me out based on the apology doc I made to inform them, but couldn’t simply because they didn’t have any access to it anymore, and how they made fun of me for it — while they also called me nasty things. And on top of that, these people went around and told my secret to several people. While I trusted them to keep quiet, they always claimed there would be other people I told that would definitely spill the secret, but these people didn’t. It were them.

I am by now way justifying what I did, I don’t want to do that. But it‘s meant to finally show my responsibility for that mistake. I‘m an adult, yes, but that doesn’t mean I am immune to making them. I am still learning, and with this, I‘ll take a step back from writing for I don’t know how long. Could be a few days, weeks, months or until season two airs.

Thank you for reading, I’m sorry, and lots of love,

Laura.

Unfollow me, unlike my stuff, stop supporting me: do whatever feels right for you. I don’t blame you. But it‘s been done, and I’m sorry for it. There‘s nothing more I can do to make it better.

I won‘t shut down my anons. So, if you have something to say to me now — feel free to do it.

#laura talks 🐉 #I apparently have no grasp of English #so if there are any mistakes — idc #this is going to blow up on discord i just know

[reviewsthatburn]

THE WITCH KING by Martha Wells is excellent and I had a great time reading it. The worldbuilding is nuanced and well-developed, with factions and history in a way that implies much more going on, but not getting bogged down in little details that don’t matter to this particular story. It deals with colonization and empire from the perspective of a quasi-immortal character (Kai) who has not been around forever, but has been around long enough that things which are part of his culture and history are now details that would fascinate only historians. The narrative shifts between two time periods in his life. This means that some events are mentioned before they were actually shown, but it was generally in a way that made the whole thing easier to follow. The two timelines are connected, as the main characters are trying to figure out whether the plan they were working on when they were betrayed is still salvageable. 

Full Review at Link

#BookReviews #Audiobook #Fantasy #Highly Recommended #witch king #martha wells

[ticklemerainbows]

Aestheticore Legacy Challenge

Hullo friends! I have been searching for a little while for a legacy challenge that I could also use as some sort of perfect genetics challenge and I figured, why not make my own. So the aestheticore legacy challenge was born! As you can tell from the title, this challenge is centered around differed aesthetics. There are a ton of aesthetics out there so it was hard to pick just 10, and some of these I’ve never heard of before so I’m excited to try this out! 

If you decide to do this, tag me ticklemerainbows or aestheticore challenge so I can see! And feel free to let me know what you think. This is my first challenge so if there’s things I could do different/better let me know!

And without further ado, the challenge.

                                                         ~x~x~x~

Generation One - Cottagecore

Your favorite thing about living on family land is the garden. It’s been around for at least the last 10 generations, and you want nothing more than to keep it going, but living in a city isn’t for you. So you pack up, take a keepsake plant from the garden and move to a quiet town in order to grow your own garden that will hopefully last for generations to come!

Requirements:  The Perfect Garden

Live on a small (no bigger than 30x30) lot

Maintain a garden for the entire generation

Reach level 10 Gardening

Make a living off your plants

Suggested Traits: Green Thumb, Loves the Outdoors

Color: Green

Generation Two - Auroracore 

You try your hardest to help your parents on the farm but you can’t help but have your head in the clouds. Fairy tales are your favorite genre of anything, and while living on a farm is all fine and dandy - you absolutely love your horse, you did raise it from a baby after all! - you always wonder if there’s something more. Like, a unicorn, perhaps?

Requirements:  The Fairy Tale Finder

Raise a horse from foal to adult

Reach level 10 in the Riding Skill

Have your horse get the Friend of the Herd Lifetime Reward

Search for a unicorn anytime there’s an aurora

Suggested Traits: Equestrian, Animal Lover

Color: Lilac

Generation Three - Light Academia

Being raised by someone who’s lifelong mission was to find a supernatural creature was surprisingly not as chaotic as it would sound, though you still prefer to stay more…grounded. While your parents were out hunting, you preferred to keep your head in the books, earning a scholarship to get into University. 

Requirements:  The Perfect Student

Get on honor roll as a child/teen

Earn a scholarship in any subject

Buy the bookstore

Suggested Traits: Socially Awkward, Workaholic, Perfectionist, Bookworm

Color: Beige

Generation Four - Fairycore

Your grandmother always told you about her times with her unicorn friend, and while you never quite believed her, you fell in love with the idea of supernatural creatures altogether. Magic, fairies, it all sounds so fantastical that you even begin trying to figure out if you can turn yourself into a magical creature!

Requirements:  Alchemy Artisan

Reach level 10 Alchemy

Visit the arboretum once a week to search for fairies

Befriend a fairy

Use an elixir to become a fairy

Suggested Traits: Supernatural Fan, Gatherer

Color: Pink

Generation Five - Comfy/Cozy

Life around magic has been a whirlwind, and you are anything but all that excitement. Having a grandparent who owns a bookstore has its perks, and you spend most of your time curled up with a good book and a warm cup of tea. Leaving your house to work doesn’t sound too appealing but you don’t have to go outside to write, do you?

Requirements:  Professional Author

Join the bookclub

Visit the library at least 3 times a season

Reach level 10 Writing

Write a best selling novel

Suggested Traits: Bookworm, Couch Potato, Artistic

Color: Orange

Generation Six - Decora

You always get asked how you turned out so outgoing when you were raised by homebodies, and you never have an answer for that. You just love being around people, and more importantly dressing those people up. You want to fill as many peoples lives with as much color as possible.

Requirements:  Fashion Phenomenon

Change your outfit every season

Reach level 10 Painting

Makeover at least 10 sims

Become best friends with one of your clients

Suggested Traits: Charismatic, Artistic, Excitable

Color: Magenta

Generation Seven - Jamcore

You love color just as much as your parents, but not so much the fashion part. Your clothes get way too messy as you experiment in the kitchen, after all. Creating yummy, colorful dishes are where your passions lie and you are determined to learn as much about the culinary arts as you possibly can.

Requirements:  The Culinary Librarian

Cook meals for your family every day

Grow a fruit orchard on the family farm

Have a personal recipe library

(Optional) Use the Grandma’s Canning Station once a week

Suggested Traits: Natural Cook, Bookworm

Color: Yellow

Generation Eight - Nautical

See the line where the sky meets the sea? It calls ye. You’ve always been drawn to the water, so much so that your family jokes that you might be a mermaid. Swimming, fishing, boating, it all appeals to you. You’d live on a houseboat, if given the chance. 

Requirements:  Presenting the Perfect Aquarium

Own a boat

Install a pond on your family land

Move into a houseboat

Reach level 10 Fishing

Suggested Traits: Loves to Swim, Angler

Color: Blue

Generation Nine - Wanderlust

Your parents loved the open sea but you want to see what’s beyond that! Visiting other cities, and even other countries. Learning and immersing yourself in the culture. You’ve read books about it, watched shows, and now that you’re old enough it’s time to dust off your visa and visit those places for yourself.

Requirements:  Seasoned Traveler

Reach level 10 in Photography

Collect a relic from each location

Go on at least 1 adventure in each country

Marry someone from a foreign country

Suggested Traits: Adventurer, Perfectionist

Color: Red

Generation Ten - Synthwave

You spent your life in other countries, other cultures, and you have to wonder, what more is there? You’ve inherited a love of traveling but is it possible to go to other timelines, or even the future? There’s not much research on it now but there’s only one way to find out. To the future!

Requirements:  Made the Most of My Time

Become best friends with Emit

Reach Level 10 in Advanced Technology

Complete the Time Keeper Legacy Statue Challenge

Create a time machine

Suggested Traits: Friendly, Adventurer

Color: Black

#legacy challenge #sims 3 legacy challenge #aestheticore challenge

[pagesinmylife]

Anyone else really tired of so many book spaces online being dominated by “spicy” books?

Like, I’ll see book recommendations that rate the spice alongside the actual review of the book. And I’ve heard people say they wouldn’t read some of my favorite authors because these authors don’t include explicit sex scenes.

Books for adults doesn’t necessarily mean the book needs sex in it. Adult fantasy is for adults because the world building is more complex, characters are morally ambiguous, there isn’t an inherent good side or bad side, and the impact of war and abuse isn’t shied away from. So many authors write a YA book, but add in several sex scenes and call it a work meant for adults but I feel like it just dumbs down whatever genre it’s meant for.

I’m not against sex scenes in general and I support women reading and owning their sexuality, but books are so much more than just another medium for p*rn.

#booklr #books #reading #bookworm #piml #SJM #anti sjm #anti colleen hoover

[desos-records]

alright let’s talk about Lockwood & Co vs Adults

(mostly about the show, I started the books before the show came out and I’m not done, be nice)

Lockwood tries so very hard to act older than he is and he essentially Had To after losing his family. We aren’t told the specifics, but he doesn’t seem to have any adults in his life. Or many people in it period. George has only known him for a year, Flo used to live with him but hasn’t for at least a year if not more, and Kipps is. well. Kipps.

But other than that he seems to have been alone: he’s the one who takes care of the business and the finances, finding new clients and recruiting new agents (he has a mortgage and insurance and he can’t even drive yet). It fits with the overarching theme of the older generation not just failing the newer one, but exploiting it too. Lockwood was abandoned by the generation that was supposed to take care of him (on purpose or not)--just like all the kids of his generation, George and Lucy included.

It’s a little simpler when it comes to George and Lucy. They both left their families by choice; they chose to be the mature ones, to do what they had to so they could feel safe and at home. George left parents who loved him, but didn’t understand him. Lucy left a physically abusive mother who exploited her for money. They’re both mature in very concrete, measurable ways that are natural extensions of their characters. George cleans and cooks and handles research. Lucy is emotionally mature, holding both boys (and people in general) accountable for their actions and making her able to pick out incredible nuances in emotion (of both the living and the dead).

But Lockwood’s maturity feels a little more like play-acting than the others. Partly, I think, because he didn’t get a choice. He’s been functionally an independent adult for god knows how long. He dresses in suits and is entirely too formal (in the books it takes forever for him to stop calling Lucy ‘Miss Carlyle’). But you can tell that it is definitely an act. His tie and trousers are too short, his coat is too big, and, god bless him, he wears the most beat up pair of sneakers I’ve ever seen.

His interactions with actual adults become a flashpoint. It’s most obvious in his interactions with adult men (partly just because most of the adults in the show are men), who he is trying so hard to look and act like. But in every case, they call him out on it and he’s reminded how young he is and almost always in a way that hurts.

The most obvious are Fairfax, Winkman, and what’s-his-face with the gold sword and guyliner, who are trying to kill him. In all cases, Lockwood can’t physically overpower them (Fairfax and Guyliner have guns, Winkman has an electric chair) and his words don’t mean anything to them. And Guyliner is even more dangerous because he knows his parents, knows something about the story behind Lockwood’s armor.

But what’s more interesting are the adults who aren’t trying to kill him.

Barnes picks apart the arguments Lockwood throws up in defense of himself and his agency, not with posturing, but with genuine (although rather harsh) concerns for their safety. For Lockwood, Barnes is a Captain Hook figure, but Barnes acts more like a disgruntled school principal than anything else. He’s working to protect a whole city full of kids that are, by necessity, thrown into harm’s way. And you can see it when Lockwood says that Barnes doesn’t like them much and it throws him off-guard.

The DEPRAC agent at the auction tells them to leave not just because he thinks they can’t handle it, but because they shouldn’t have to

Jesus, you’re children

Yes, he’s aggressive and antagonistic about it, which only makes Lockwood bristle more. Lockwood steps towards him trying to act with authority, even threatening, but all the agent does to break his armor is grab him hard by the shoulder and push him back. But despite that, he is trying to protect them. And he dies to protect them. It is the only instance of someone truly seeing them for what they are: kids. Not agents or weapons or meal tickets.

But it’s jarring. Lockwood can’t process any of that and that’s not his fault. In the world we’ve seen so far, Barnes and the DEPRAC agent are an anomaly. Most other adults don’t care whether they live or die (so long as they’re useful). Lockwood has every reason to believe that every adult is an obstacle at best and a threat at worst.

And it’s painful. All of it. And a little too close to home, this story of children only valued when they’re useful.

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #lockwood netflix