#Lis is so lucky to be with her

[yoursaltytears]

She's breathtaking.

#horizon forbidden west #tilda van der meer #i really love her so much #Lis is so lucky to be with her #take me to the stars Tilda #all that remains

[anna-scribbles]

maryssa @carpisuns has been one of my best friends for over two years now, and I just want to take a second to talk about how wonderful she is and how much of a joy it is to know her. 

I first knew maryssa as an incredibly talented author, and then as an incredibly talented artist, and then as a dear friend. she is so wildly intelligent, thoughtful, kind, and funny that it’s so hard to picture my life now without her in it. hardly a day has gone by in the last several years that maryssa hasn’t made me cackle the ugliest laughter or made me want to start crying from her insanely thoughtful encouragement. she doesn’t take herself too seriously which is fun and refreshing but also sometimes makes me want to shake her by the shoulders and shout, “do you know?? do you know how incredible you are???” because she is. maryssa brightens up my life in such a unique way; it is so obvious how genuine her care is for the people around her. 

the notion that maryssa is selfish in any capacity is genuinely ludicrous to anyone who actually knows her. literally last month I mentioned offhandedly in our group chat that I was feeling stressed about money, and the next day I saw maryssa had sent me $60 through kofi which helped me pay for gas that month. any time any artist we know opens commissions, maryssa is first in line because she has such a genuine love for supporting her friends, both with a constant stream of encouragement as well as with her resources. she’s taught me so much by her example of generosity and thoughtfulness. maryssa is an extremely talented and highly educated writer and editor and has offered up her english skills to help me on so many occasions, just because she is kind. she’s listened to me talk about the dumbest things on my mind as well as the important things, and has always - since day one - treated me with kindness and respect. she treats everyone like that. 

when I think about what it means to be an encouragement, I think of maryssa. when I think about what it means to love people well, I think of maryssa. when I think about what it means to be brave, I think of maryssa. I wish that anyone who thinks they can know everything about a stranger from a few labels in their bio could have an ounce of the character maryssa has - that they could learn to be half as kind as she is. you don’t know anyone’s story until you’ve lived it. and how inspiring it is to me that maryssa has lived her story and come through it so kind and strong and brave. how grateful I am that I get to know her. 

#anna rambles #I don't get angry easily but I was feeling pretty angry today. #been seeing a lot of lies about maryssa that I don't appreciate. so I decided i'm just going to tell the truth #I love maryssa a whole lot. she means the world to me. #i'm really lucky to know her #I think she's off tumblr right now but send her some love if you can #she's great. she's really really great

[adastra121]

Leander: ...So. Leander: When you said you're "magic in bed," this isn't exactly what I was exp— Alon: *holds up Jack of Hearts with a wink* Is this your card? Leander: *softly* Holy shit...

#I put down leander on principle (he's a hoe) but this is basically alon with all the LIs #touchstarved #touchstarved game #touchstarved leander #touchstarved oc #alon the hound #leander x oc #oc x leander #alon x leander #leander x alon #incorrect quotes #incorrect quote #source: twitter #context. alon is my hound!mc and they're a non-magical magician so I like pairing them with leander #she's got a lucky deck of cards that she usually shuffles and fidgets with #they specialize in street magic which combines close-up and stage and platform together #in her case there's also a bit of pickpocket magic mixed in because. you know. thief. #they also do comedy magic (which incorporates stand-up) and escapology (a knack for getting into and out of tricky situations) #I gave leander a jack of hearts to represent him I might change it later I don't know XD #alon's card would be the joker because it's the wildcard it's the clown it's versatile and adaptive... #it got exiled from the rest of the card deck and is left to fend for themself in a completely new game — *cough* what? #where did that metaphor go?

[hannahssimblr]

Ivy is in her pyjamas by seven that evening but she won’t settle. She keeps insisting that when mom and dad are gone she doesn’t have to follow any rules, including bedtime, and I realise the error of my ways in establishing this dynamic with her. Perhaps being the fun brother has too many downsides. 

“Please, Ivy, just get into bed, what do I have to do?”

“I’m not tired.”

“I don’t care, go anyway.”

“What if there’s something good on telly that I want to watch?” She swipes the remote from the table and switches on some re-run of Gossip Girl, which is absolutely not allowed.

“No, turn it off, that’s not for you.”

“It’s for girls, it says it in the name.”

“They’re not girls, they’re… ladies, and they’re all spoiled. A bit like you, huh?” I snatch the remote out of her little hand and flick it off, so she balls her fists up in frustration and starts pummelling me with them. It is nine o’clock in ten minutes and I haven’t gotten around to cleaning our breakfast, lunch or dinner from the kitchen. Baguette crumbs and puddles of spilled hot chocolate still litter the table and counter upstairs making it look like, well, like a teenage boy is running this operation. 

“Stop,” I cry, “you’re over excited, this is what happens when you get too much sugar, I swear to God…” 

“Give me the remote!”

“No!”

“I want to watch TV!” 

“Go. To. Bed.” I put the remote high up on a shelf where she’ll never reach it, which is a stupid idea, because she shrieks and starts trying to scale the furniture to get closer to it. I swear I can feel the ticking of the clock inside my brain by now, she has to go to bed, I don’t know what else to do. When she gets onto the coffee table she kicks over the glass of orange juice that she asked me for fifteen minutes ago and sends it to the floor with a hollow thunk. I stand and watch as liquid pools over the hardwood flooring and I feel something in me snap. I grab her and yank her down hard. Way too hard. 

“Ow, ow,” she cries, “let go!” and I peel my fingers away to see the red ring I have left around her little wrist. Tears have sprung to her eyes, and in a panic I get down on my knees and hold the sides of her head as she begins to shake with sobs. 

“Ivy, I’m sorry,” I say, “That was too hard, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I really didn’t, I’m sorry…”

“I just wanted to watch the telly,” she whimpers, and fat tears pour down her round cheeks and drip from her chin. I feel ill. This is what happens with me, all the time, I get her hyped up and feed her sweets and then I get angry when she can’t calm down. She’s just a little child and I’m a fucking idiot without a clue about how to be responsible. It’s only been a day since we’ve been left alone and look at us now, the kitchen is destroyed, there’s orange juice seeping into the oak flooring and I’ve made my sister cry. 

“Ivy, please,” I say, “I’m sorry I hurt you, what can I do to make it better?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to call mom?”

She gasps, “No,” and she’s right, what a stupid idea. 

“Do you…” I look around me in a panic, “Do you want another hot chocolate?”

This brightens her up, “Another one?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Of course, yeah, sure. If you… If you get into your bed I’ll take it in and you can have it there, what do you think?”

She swipes her hands over damp cheeks, “I’m allowed hot chocolate in my room?”

“Yeah just for tonight, and only if you promise that you won’t spill it or tell anyone else. Okay?”

She nods, and I breathe a sigh of relief. 

She goes to her room while I head up to the kitchen and shove old plates and mugs out of the way to make room for a new one. I give her two scoops of chocolate powder and extra marshmallows as a guilty offering, and as I’m stirring it all together with hot milk a shadow crosses the window.

I curse under my breath. She’s five minutes early, and usually I’d be happy that a girl was so eager to hang out with me, but now is a less than ideal time. I try to get to the door before she does but I don’t make it, and the doorbell rings obnoxiously through the house. 

“Hello,” Clóda says when I open up to her, and her eyes immediately drift to the ridiculous looking hot chocolate in my hands, “Um, is that what you’re drinking?”

“No, um, it’s not, it’s for my sister.”

“She’s still up?”

“She’s going to bed now, I just wanted to bring this to her, and then we’ll be on our own,” She steps inside and I close the door gently behind her. 

“Is that a good idea?” She wonders, “All of that sugar?”

Fucking hell, I don’t know, do I? “It’s fine. You can just come downstairs and sit on the couch, I’ll be a minute,” I see her taking in the mess of the kitchen, and add, “don’t worry about that, it’s just been a busy evening, it’s not like that usually.”

“Okay.”

Ivy is sitting up in bed wearing an anxious expression. “Who was at the door?”

“Jen.”

“Oh,” a pause, “Did she lose her key?”

“Yeah she did, she was out on the beach and it fell out of her pocket.”

“Oh no, I hope she can find it.”

I push her fringe away from her forehead, “yeah, I hope so too. You know how it is with girls' pockets and all, they don’t really fit much in them, do they?”

She smiles, “No, they don’t. So it’s not really Jen’s fault, it’s her jeans.”

“Exactly,” I straighten up, “You okay now?”

“I think so.”

“Okay well, if you need something just shout for me and I’ll hear you. Don’t come out into the living room or anything, I’m going to be, um, watching a really scary movie.”

“Oh okay.”

“Goodnight Ivy.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy #happy christmas lmao #i'm too sleepy to do anything but go on tumblr rn so here you are #love this chaotic night #nothing can go wrong #right? #feeding your 7 year old sister a pound of sugar and then telling her lies #it'll be fine

[marsharpy]

Works by Li Hei Di in her exhibit Oscillating Womb, Pt.1

1, 2,3 - Unquenchable Laughter, Inescapable Desert, Oil on linen, 2023

4, 5, 6 - The Unforeseen Flooding the Abyss, Oil on linen, 2023

7, 8, - Wet Salted Heat of Your Cheek, Oil on linen, 2023

9, 10 - She Says Her Love Is Big, Like She Loves Wind; Like She Loves Trees, Oil on linen, 2023

“The figures in my paintings are like ghosts, translucent beings, not solid humans. They are possibilities, not conclusions; they are forever in transition, but not in a hurry to become someone.” -Li Hei Di

Some words about Li Hei Di’s exhibit :3

Artsy article!

Li Hei Di’s Instagram!

#art #abstract #abstract art #contemporary art #oil painting #li hei di #i feel so lucky to have seen her work #her work moves me emotionally in a whole different way #me

[theflyingfeeling]

aaaarrghghgh 😭

#overthinking hurts my head how am i supposed to sleep tonight #why am i so stupid so stupid so stupid #when BC said PANIC PANIC PANIC i felt that lol #yes this is about the job situation again (see my post from yesterday) #i'm fairly hopeful that'll resolve itself when i call them and ask for another opportunity tomorrow morning #(my mom helped me come up with a convincing enough story about why i cancelled the interview lol) #but i'm so scared of my employement agency contact person hearing about this #in the best case scenario i could handle it by telling her i had to cancel due to personal reasons... #...but was lucky enough to get a new interview #and i feel i should contact her first before she notices they have opened that position for applications again #(she knows i applied for it so IF she notices this she might wonder WHY they have re-opened it #because if there's been qualified applicants (=me) they wouldn't have to do that) #in any case i'm so so scared she'll call the place and ask them if i really did apply and if i really do have an upcoming interview #if i do get another opportunity it's not gonna be a problem i hope (unless they tell her why i said i cancelled it #because in that case i'd probably have to actually tell the employment agency person the REAL reason why i cancelled) #in addition i'm scared of what it might look like to the people i'm hoping will hire me if someone from the employment agency calls them #to make sure their customer hasn't lied about applying and agreeing on an interview?! #that's gonna make me look sooooooo good lmao #to conclude. i'm screwed and a fucking idiot byeeee #(this is complicated i know sorry lol)

[dashedwithromance]

there’s a rumour on felucia, born of long nights and harsh storms and lost children. some call it a ghost story. other’s say it’s a love story. to a handful, they’re one and the same.

the start is always different, no matter who tells it, but the end is always the same. you heard it once from the old woman who lives out by the teething grove that it was a jedi ghost who died in the clone wars. they doesn’t have a name, this mystery spirit, but they are remembered.

your sister likes to think they were a farmer, like you, who wandered off and grew tired, before lying down beneath the carnivorous flora, never to rise again.

you wonder if they know the stories, this ghost, whether they like them. whether they cry their lost name to the forgotten winds, or whether anonymity is a blessing.

you never believed in them, not really, until that night. that night you were alone and afraid and terrified your life had fallen to pieces around you. you couldn’t see the beauty of the home you adored, only its teeth and claws and sharp edges.

you wandered further out into the wilderness than you’d ever gone before. the familiar disappeared, replaced with shadows of the unknown. you couldn’t see anything other your looming mistakes, your shattered heart. the world stopped and started with your trembling hands.

and then, like a beacon, a spark, a burst of hope, there was a hand holding your own.

don’t look down, every ghost story you’ve ever heard runs through your mind

turn around, says the love story.

they squeeze your hand, and without thinking, you turn your head.

i can guide you home, they say. all you can see is blinding blue. the scent of burnt flesh fills the air. you realise all of the stories are true, and none at all. the one about betrayal, the one about turned backs, rings most true. that’s the thing about ghost stories, isn’t it. we know the ending before the beginning has even taken form. we know how it ends; we tell it anyway. you suppose it’s the same for love stories.

you nod, and the unknown falls away like petals in a storm.

your sister always insists the ghost is a farmer. the old woman by the teething grove tells the version about the jedi.

tell us a story, tell us a story! your children beg every evening. they know which one you’ll tell, which one you’ll always tell. you wonder sometimes if that’s your purpose - to tell the story, so the lonely ghost in the centre is always remembered. nameless, homeless, but remembered.

you tell the story about hand in the dark. they’re all the same, anyway.

#aayla secura #star wars #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #this is vaguely star wars ish but uh. enjoy happy may 4 love you all mwah mwah #i dont know what this is but i am listening to the bly manor soundtrack on repeat so like. maybe that has smth to do with it #something something everything in the world is about ghosts. except ghosts #which are about love. #i think aayla’s body lies there on felucia until her bones become one with the earth. with the planet. #and if you’re lucky. if you’re lost. she’ll guide you home

[amessageonthewind]

Me: Remembers the episode of House where Thirteen gets yelled at and slapped by the parents of an intersex kid because she told him the truth (that he was intersex) and his parents lied to him his whole life and thus he doesn’t trust them. Me: FOAMING AT THE MOUTH

#୨⎯ My Lucky Unlucky Thirteen ⎯୧ #makes me so fucking mad #she did her fucking job you assholes #it is not her fault you lied to your kid for his whole life because you didn't want him to be 'confused' #fuck off!!!!!

[x-itzzzzzz-x]

i wish i could just be a cat all day meow

#misa is so lucky #my cat is called misa #she is so cool #but yeah #she just lies about #and occasionally plays #and gets attention #and food she likes and treats #and is so cozy all the time #she has no thoughts or worries #just meows #i love her #meow meow meow #i wish i cat #autism #anyways

[kaleschmidt]

Doing this impromptu rp w teen Naomi is so funny to me in a way. Like be her and the guy who's hiring you is a phone guy and reminds you so much of your dad (WHO IS DEAD). Okay now imagine him freeing you and your friend from a springlock suit after crushing one of the animatronics. Okay now imagine coming back the next night and he's DEAD.

#Grave's Digs #TabbyKat Rambles #Oh sm context. Teen Naomi is doing the sister location job w friend's oc terrie #And um. Sure is going #THE EVENTS PRETTY MUCH HAPPEN THE SAME.. #Terrie n Naomi are in the same suit.. phone guy crushed bidybab and opened up the suit to free them #FUCKING UP HIS HANDS IN THE PROCESS #and then used the REST of his energy to help save the two technicians. Then he got jumped #It's okay. Naomi safe #.......**well she went missing for one day and jack . Jack. Jack. Jack.** #SO lucky that the friend who's orchestrating the happenings didn't allow Jack into the rp (its for the best) #BC LIKE. I KNOW HIS ASS WOULD HAVE OTHERWISE TORN DOWN THAT PLACE!!!! FUCK. NOT. AGAIN. #'if freddys n fazbenders exist in the same space how does that work' don't worry. Abt that. #Also I lied abt her coming back the next night (for now. She'll break out) bc Jack is NOT letting her leave home #....did I mention that Naomi got that job without telling Jack. The Freddy's job that Naomi is BANNED from stepping near

[swampthingking]

just came out as trans to my sister HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAIMGOINGTOBESICKHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHASHETOOKITWELLBUTSTILLHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

#jesus christ #fuck #i wish i could tag the word fuck 12 more times #because fuck #a weight off my chest but also another fucking learning curve i have to witness #the mentally ill child who is always struggling with SOMETHING #when ur the one to cause your family so much stress and chaos and now here is another curveball!!! #i’m relieved don’t get me wrong but fuck this is scary #because what if i’m wrong???? #and this is just another thing i was confused about??? #(i am not wrong and i am not confused but STILL lmfao i would be proving their suspicions right #like oh (redacted legal name) was just confused again. always something with *her*! #anyways i will be fine and i am extremely lucky to have supportive family #but still— some of my lore lied bare on the tl. enjoy it #trans #swampy shitposts

[rewrentless]

.

#i am not doing well #i overheard my parents the other night talking about how they dont accept me that they dont believe in nonbinary genders and how they #hate it so much #ive been out for 6 years and i know they struggle to understand especially my dad but my mum has always said she supports and accepts me #she helped me legally change my name and said her and my dad would pay for my top surgery if it ever happened #shes always doing research and asking questions so i thought she understood at least a little #i feel betrayed and abandoned by the only people in my family who i thought actually accepted me and would stand up for me #guess it was a fucking lie #this is literally my worst fear come true im so anxious and scared of people making fun of me behind my back or #lying that they like or accept me out of pity #i dont know how to wrap my head around that i cant trust my mum my comfort person #i feel like an idiot ive been saying for years how lucky i am to have parents who are trying who support me who encourage me to be who i am #turns out theyre no better than my aunt who blamed me for turning my cousin gay and trans they just lied cause they thought id kill myself #ive been wanting to move out for a while cause if my dads drinking and temper but i cant stanf being near them rn #i cant really do anything though cause nearly all the student accommodation is full and i dont know the process for renting #my mum has me so sheltered from reality i dont know how to do anything #im so tired

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

#writeblr #warm up #this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru #but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist #ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school. #like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it. #was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes. #but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create'' #when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work #part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just #like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent. #speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r #ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week #this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice. #''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism #imagine if we said that about literally any other profession. #''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt? #u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky'' #we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY #''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''

[fooled-around-and-fell]

she's mean, and he loves her for it.

summary: your peers wonder how the ever-so-annoying gojo satoru can stand being in a relationship with you pairing: sunshine!gojo satoru x grumpy!female reader genre: angst, fluff warnings: none

Masterlist

"Did you guys know Gojo-sensei is dating-" Nobara looks around left and right before whispering your name in fear that you might be around.

"Ehhh?" Yuuji's eyebrows knit together. "No way. She's so scary and he's so...happy."

Nobara agrees, "She never smiles -- kinda looks like she has a permanent frown, too. She scares me."

"You think maybe she intimidated him to date her?"

Megumi watches as his two friends bicker about whether you and Satoru look good together, not realizing that you've heard everything they said. Megumi notices you've arrived to teach them and clears his throat, catching the attention of his two friends. He glances at you to check how you're doing after hearing what they said, but as expected, you remain professional and stoic. But Megumi knows better, he grew up under your and Satoru's wings after all.

"Shit." Nobara and Yuuji mutter under their breaths.

-----

It's fairly common for people to question your relationship with Satoru. He's this... happy-go-lucky guy who annoys everyone except those on the same wavelength as him, while you keep to yourself, prioritizing your alone time, and taking things seriously.

Sometimes, too serious.

You never let it get to you, though, because you don't really care what people say. You and Satoru are happy, that's all that matters. Until recently, when those jerk Kyoto students came over to train, they started talking about you and Satoru.

"She's so serious all the time, I don't understand how Gojo puts up with her."

"I think he's scared to breakup with her."

"I bet she's high maintenance."

"Honestly, why is he with her when he can be with someone who's... not so difficult?"

You grit your teeth at that last comment. You can't tell who said what, but it doesn't matter. Their words got to your head and now you're angry. Angry because you're scared they might be right.

Does Satoru think you're difficult? You're not entirely sure how to show them that yes, you deserve Satoru despite being the dark, grumpy person you are.

Sighing, you decide to go home instead of joining the dinner. Satoru's not in there anyway, he just got back from a mission and is waiting for you at home.

Once you close the door to your apartment, you immediately feel Satoru's arm envelope around you from behind. He smells like fresh mint -- just got out of the shower.

"Hi darling," he kisses your cheek.

"Hi, Toru." You take your shoes off and give him a quick peck before making your way to the bedroom to put your stuff down.

Satoru watches you slowly, "hm, aren't you supposed to have that dinner with the Kyoto students today?"

Your jaw clenches, taking a second before shrugging. "Decided to skip it. I'm tired."

He just hums, "In that case, you wanna watch Bridgerton with me after your shower?"

"Again?" You groan, "Isn't it like the third time you've watched it?"

"Yes, and?"

"I'll skip, thanks."

He blows a raspberry and leaves you to shower while he lays down on the couch to watch Anthony Bridgerton fall in love with his Kate Sheffield.

While you were in the shower, the words kept coming back to you. Somehow more exaggerated. You're difficult. He doesn't like you. He's just tolerating you. Why would he be with someone who doesn't even smile? Look at him, Gojo is the epitome of sunshine. You're nothing like him. Why would he like you?

Groaning, you let the hot water wash away your thoughts -- though they don't really go away. Maybe you should just try to be nicer to Satoru, be more cheerful.

After your shower, you see him lying down on the couch while watching his show, and you sit on the other end, silently dreading having to watch the same show again. But you're doing this for Satoru, so you will.

With a satisfied grin, Satoru saunters over and lies down on top of you, his head resting on your chest. You smile softly, enjoying the tight grip he has on you and his soft hair between your fingers.

"How was the mission?" You ask, "Did you have to go to Shoko?"

Satoru shakes his head, "Sweetheart, it's me we're talking about here."

"You can still get hurt, Toru." You pat his hair gently, "I've seen you bleed."

"I'm always careful. Don't worry." He kisses your hand.

You sigh softly. You know Satoru is always careful, it's just that he always goes on missions alone, and more often nowadays that it makes you worry. Yes, he's the strongest, but you never want to take that for granted.

"Toru," You call him again, a little hesitant, "You know I love you, right?"

He lifts his head from your chest, staring at you with those big blue eyes. "Of course. And I love you. So much."

He kisses you deeply, now switching positions so you're lying down on top of him. "So do you want to talk about it?"

"No.." You mumble. Of course, Satoru knows. He isn't stupid. He can sense when something's wrong with you, just like how you can feel the scar on his hip that wasn't there before. He did go to Shoko.

But none of you say anything. You just hold each other tighter that night. It's more than enough.

-----

Satoru is on another mission. It's supposed to be easy, at least that's what he said 3 days ago. You haven't heard from him at all in 3 days and you're beginning to worry. Your frown is deeper than usual, you sigh more often, and your fuse is shorter.

Everyone's more scared of you.

You let the kids take a break while you try to collect your thoughts. You can't be seen so distracted, not when Satoru left you in charge of them.

"You doing okay?" You hear Megumi's voice approach you.

Blinking away the tears that almost fell, you turn around to face him. "I'm fine, Megs."

"I told you not to call me that..." He sulks as he stands next to you, leaning against the wall. He can see you're distraught, and growing up with you, there's only been a handful of times he's seen you like this.

"You know he's going to be fine, right?"

You sigh. "I'm just worried."

You remember once when Satoru didn't come back for a week. He couldn't be reached, no one could track him down, and you were just at home, taking care of Megumi. The boy's more like you than Satoru, he's not exactly sensitive or cheery. But he knows when you're feeling sad, so he'd stay up with you, praying for Satoru's safety.

"Guys!" Yuuji runs towards you and Megumi.

"What is it, Yuuji?"

"It's Gojo-sensei-" He pants, "He's back!"

You run as fast as you can with Yuuji and Megumi, and you can finally see your white-haired, blue-eyed boyfriend limping his way back to the school grounds.

He raises his hand and waves to you with a big smile despite struggling to walk. "Tsk-" You frown even more, feeling the tears pooling again as you walk towards him and catch him in an embrace.

"Umph-" He groans. "Hi, baby."

You let go of him and check his injuries -- he's healed most of it himself, thank goodness, but the bruises are still there. "We need to go to Shoko-"

"Mm, that can wait." He pulls you to sit down on the soft grass, hugging you once again. "It's okay, I'm here now."

You choke on your own sobs and hug him tighter, sitting between his legs and burying your head in his chest. "You idiot."

"'M sorry for makin' you worry," he smiles gently, leaving kisses all over your face.

As you cup his face in your hands, you're suddenly very aware of the 3 pairs of eyes staring at you both. Noticing it too, Satoru covers your red, embarrassed face. "Okay, nothing to see here. Go.. do something. Scram. Skedaddle."

Once the kids are gone, he chuckles and thinks you're being really cute. "They're gone, sweets."

You glare at his teasing smile.

Satoru wipes away your tears, kissing your frown away. "What took you so long?" You ask after kissing him deeply, not letting him go.

A smirk lingers on Satoru's lips. "I took a detour to Kyoto after the mission to teach some kids a lesson."

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