#clearing the air

[kataraslove]

where can we find the comic of aang and katara as adults raising Tenzin?

so it’s not letting me link you to the “clearing the air” free comic on dark horse comics website so I’ll just post everything here.

#clearing the air #atla #avatar the last airbender #kataang #lok #legend of korra #katara #aang #korra #asami #tenzin #jinora #toph #korrasami

[pareidoliaonthemove]

An Answer

The Question: Part 2

(Part One is here.)

Virgil had been released from the medical suite, but was not cleared for duty, before Jeff summoned up the courage to confront his middle son.

Virgil’s Question deserved an answer. And it would be AN answer, Jeff didn’t have The Answer, the words to magically make things right; all he had was the truth, and the hope that they could build from there.

Virgil watched him curiously as he dragged a lounger to share the large sunshade Virgil was sprawled under, a pair of tablets on his lap as he took notes about whatever he was reading.

Neither spoke until he settled in the lounger next to his son. “How’re you feeling, Virgil?”

His son smiled. “Better than I did a week ago, worse than I normally do.”

Jeff nodded. “You were extremely sick, son. You need time to recover.”

Virgil indicated his lounger and the small table beside him, groaning under the weight of bottled drinks with various levels of liquid. “I am. I’m resting. I’m drinking. I doing everything humanly possible to speed up my recovery time.”

Jeff nodded. “I know.” He turned to face the horizon, watching the small specks of seabirds wheeling in the sky above Mateo Island. “You scared me, kiddo,” he told the birds.

He heard Virgil shift, beside him. “Dad, I …”

Jeff held up a hand. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t mean, or want, to get sick. It happens. But I’m your father. And no matter how old, how capable you are, when you’re sick …” He turned to face Virgil. “I would do anything to protect you, Virgil; you and your brothers, you are everything to me.”

Virgil started at the vehemence in his father’s tone. He stared at the older man, a little fearful. “Dad, I …” Suddenly he frowned. “Scott said I was running off at the mouth when I was sick. What did I say?”

Jeff met his eyes evenly. “Nothing that you would say any other time. But something that we need to talk about.”

Virgil sat up, “Dad, you can’t take …”

“So you were never angry at me for boarding the Zero X?” Jeff spoke across him.

Virgil jolted. “What?! What the hell …”

“Never thought I should have bailed out and let it blow? Never thought I was just playing the hero for the glory?” Jeff felt sick as he spoke the next words, “Never thought I threw you boys aside without thinking of you?”

Virgil bolted to his feet, and made it a half-dozen steps before he stopped, clearly dizzied by his sudden movement. Jeff followed him, warily as he realised his son’s shoulders were shaking. Jeff touched him gently on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Virgil, but this has obviously been festering for a long time. It’s time to clear the air.”

Virgil didn’t face him, but let himself be drawn back to the lounger. He didn’t lie back, despite his father’s gentle coaxing, and Jeff acknowledged that that was probably too vulnerable a position to be having this conversation, anyway.

He sat next to his son, shoulder to shoulder. He wanted to hug him, but feared Virgil would feel trapped.

Eventually Virgil spoke. “What did I say to you?” His voice was sad, and scared.

“You wanted to know if I thought of you boys.” Jeff’s voice was equally soft.

Virgil made a noise, a soft keening sound, that made Jeff’s heart skip a beat. Carefully he wrapped an arm around his son, and drew him closer.

“You asked if I thought of you,” Jeff said, “or if it was just a chance for me to play at being the hero again.”

Virgil convulsed against him, silent.

Jeff moved to kneel before Virgil, trapping his face between his hands, and pressing his upturned forehead to his son’s downturned. This had to be said face to face.

“Virgil. You are my son. You are my earth, my star, my moon, my everything. Same as your brothers.”

He paused, watching as Virgil’s eyes opened and widened at the words, knowing he understood the significance of the phrase. Words he had once spoken to the boys mother, a part of his wedding vow. Words that Jeff had never, ever taken lightly or in jest. Making sure Virgil understood just how serious Jeff was about what he said next.

“I knew where you boys were. All of you. I knew how dangerous that damn ship was. I knew how far spread the destruction would be. How many lives would be lost.”

His grip on his son tightened. This was the important bit. “I knew – I knew exactly where you all were. I knew you were right in the centre of the kill zone. All of you. Yes, I could have saved myself. I would have lost you. I would have lost all of you.” Jeff shook his head, his forehead rubbing against his son’s skin. “Better that I die, than you.” He closed his eyes. “I owed your mother that much, at least.”

A whimper from his son forced his eyes open. Virgil’s eyes were closed, tears running down his cheeks. Jeff pulled him off the lounger, holding him tight to himself and letting his son cleanse himself with his tears.

It took a long time, and Jeff cried silently along with him, grieving for his son’s pain.

Eventually Virgil stilled beneath him.

The tableau held.

“You thought you were going to die.” It was whispered.

Jeff nodded. “Yes. I don’t think anybody was ever more surprised than I was when I found myself alive in the Oort Cloud.”

“You didn’t say goodbye.”

It was another dagger to Jeff’s heart, but all it did was open an old, old wound. An eight-year-old wound that he had already washed bloodless with tears he could ill afford.

Jeff hugged Virgil even tighter to himself, revelling in the touch, grounding himself to the moment. “No,” he agreed. “I didn’t. And I spent eight years bitterly regretting it.”

Between getting onto the Zero-X, dealing with the Hood, recognising the scope of the imminent destruction, and deciding how to circumvent the danger, there hadn’t been time to think of it. Only scant heartbeats between the decision and the action. Was it long enough? He couldn’t tell. His mother had colluded with the GDF and he couldn’t access the footage of his last disastrous mission. Even Scott had finally been locked out.

What had his sons thought his last words were? He couldn’t remember what he had said. Had his last words been wasted on the Hood? That was a terrible legacy. He would have to do better next time.

At least he got a next time.

And speaking of which …

He pulled Virgil upright with him, both men standing, and looked his son directly in the eyes. “I didn’t say goodbye.” He held out a hand to his son. “But I can say ‘hello’.”

Notes:

Hmm, this was meant to fix what I had previously broken; but wounds of the heart just don’t mend so quickly. Realistically, these are the first steps on a long journey; but they are the first steps, and they are so often the hardest, and the most important.

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the Original Series, the Movies (both Supermarionation and Live Action), or the Thunderbirds Are Go Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

#fanfic #my fanfic #thunderbirds are go #jeff tracy #virgil tracy #relationships #clearing the air

[theblackinnkeeper]

“Komahina is canon spike chunsoft said so”

You do realize that since this is coming from the English division of spike chunsoft and not the Japanese or even Kodaka or his successor they have no actual authority to say that right?

Even then this is just a white day cake made with boys on both sides so saying this makes komahina canon is like saying makoto/monokuma is canon

#anti komahina #clearing the air #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata

[airteacher]

some young Tenzin from Clearing The Air

#Tenzin #legend of korra #clearing the air

[whendarknessturns]

I know that's not what she meant and I shouldn't be laughing

but

#lok #lok patterns in time #clearing the air #chief beifong #toph beifong #tenzin #young tenzin #patterns in time: clearing the air #legend of korra #the legend of korra #toph #atla

[shewhounderstoodcotlau]

clearing the air

Hey yall, I'm here speaking up about a situation where @usagi-in-blunderland accused @creeperchild of bullying and being a cruel, dismissive person and deleting the evidence. That is not true. I know this because I am one of the mods in Freddy's server, and I go by High Priestess with the Mordecai profile pic. We archived the evidence so it could not be tampered with. These are screenshots, I have censored the names of people who asked me too.

I apologize if some screenshots might have gotten out of order due to formatting but this is my evidence of what I saw, how I interacted, and how she responded.

Also, one more screenshot of how I can prove this evidence was archived and not tampered with.

spider senses were tingling that shit would come up. So here we are. This is my evidence. Peace y'all.

@devilbinx

@Sa.phireflame

And a thanks to everyone who was ok with their words being used as evidence.

#Clearing the air #Accusations and slander #So sorry

[ladybugsimblr]

forward part one 🎵

Forward Best foot first just in case When we made our way 'til now It's time to listen, it's time to fight Forward Now we're going to hold doors open for a while Now we can be open for a while

previously - the pics they’re talking about

#clearing the air #moving forward #i think you assume the boundaries #when you get in a relationship #but it can be slightly different for everyone #they weren't lying when they said communication is key #bklegacy #bklgen2 #bailey kay #quinton

[thegnollhole]

Karra has eaten people and it might be hot but it is not vore. it is nature documentary at best. she doesn't do anal vore either but she will use your head and shoulders as a buttplug.

#clearing the air #sorry folks #karra

[stitch1830]

Aang groaned, but asked Toph the question that burned in his mind. “You invited Azula?” he asked. Azula’s presence at the party caught him off guard, putting his thoughts in the clouds. Well, more than usual, at least.

She blew her bangs out of her face for a moment, and Aang could see the annoyance in his friend’s eyes. “Yeah, of course I did.”

“Why??”

“Because this is a friends and family party, Twinkletoes."

-OR-

Aang wasn't expecting to see Azula at Toph and Kanto's baby shower, but now that he does, he hopes there's an opportunity to speak with Azula about things that have been left unsaid.

......

Hey everyone! After seeing some great Azulaang work for its ship week, I was motivated to try writing for it as well! It's my first longer fic for the ship, so I hope you all enjoy! Thanks for reading, and I hope you all have a great day :)

#azulaang #azula #aang #kantoph #toph #toph beifong #kanto #atla #lok #writing #clearing the air #it's electric series #the chief and dep series #ngl i love writing azula but idk how in character it is (but hopefully it is) #n e ways

[pokemoncard]

i have never bullied maira in my life

#clearing the air #diary

[mk-wizard]

Honouring Akira Toriyama through a case

Hello.

I wanted to do something by honouring Akira Toriyama and while I inted to do an art piece, I also felt it is about time we cleared the air about one of the biggest misunderstandings about a character he created: Mr. Popo and why he is not an offensive character.

The big secret behind Mr. Popo's design and concept was the Jinn in Arabian and Chinese mythology. Specifically, the deity Mahakala who had black skin literally and thick pink lips with a stout figure.

Another thing about Jinns (or Genies) in their old lore is that they come in many colours, but not the shades human skin comes in. They can be green, blue, red or even black as licorice. With that said, Akira Toriyma designed Mr. Popo to look like something like the Jinns though in his case, he took liberties by making him look friendly, sweet and gentle while in most mythologies, Jinns are frightening.

With that said, Akira Toriyama didn't mean for Mr. Popo to look or be offensive in any respect. And he really isn't. He's a Jinn and as a character, he is intelligent, wise and a helpful ally who helped the team find a way to get to planet Namek and train to be able to defeat Cell as well as several other villains.

Whenever Akira Toriyama did draw human beings of any colour, he was fair. He gave them varying features across the board or which they could look attractive or homely. This included thick lips and plain features which were NOT reserves for black or brown people only. His depictions were diverse where anyone of any colour could look like anything. Here are examples of black and brown characters.

The closest character who I could find to be kind of pushing it was Android 15 and even then, he doesn't even look like a human being. He looks like a goofy cartoon character you're meant to laugh at kind of like how Steve Urkel doesn't really look like a real life nerd. The design was meant to be a joke not a statement.

I am also sure he did not look like this when he was human. And in Mr. Toriyama's defense, I've seen much worse depictions with way more negative stereotyping than this in today's modern age of which we should be more aware and more mindful of, but I am not here to call people out. I just made this essay to clear Akira Toriyama's name.

He was a good writer and also fair in his depictions of characters both inside and out. He did not discriminate for better or worse. At least, that is what I always got from it.

I hope this clears the air about the misunderstanding about Mr. Popo's design. He was just trying to create a lovable character not hurt anyone's feelings. It is a case of the cloud looking like a duck, but it's still just a cloud.

I hope we can all be cool now.

And RIP Mr. Akira Toriyama. You truly were one in a million.

#dragon ball #akira toriyama #respect #mistunderstanding #mr popo #clearing the air #no racism here

[chattematsu]

[4.0 archon quest spoilers]

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanart #fontaine #childe #lumine #lyney #Lynette #Okay before you'll say BUT THEY HID IMPORTANT INFORMATION IT MAKES THEM BETRAYALS listen yo listen thanks a lot!!!! #And before CHILDE IS OUR CLOSE FRIEND WE KNOW HIM FOR ETERNITY SO IT'S OBVIOUS WE TRUST HIM AND GET DISAPPOINTED IN SIBLINGS #I made it JUST FOR IRONY not any negative in any ot these characters #These events were pretty close in quest and it looked pretty strange (for me) #Even after trial traveller was pretty rude with characters who didn't have any odd intentions and it made me think in that way #Maybe writers wanted to make traveller more emotional than earlier but it looked very strange (for me again) #Bro it were the longest tags i ever made here but it's just for clearing the air #Btw don't take it serious #Ofc you can disagree with me and that's okay!!! It's just little note for making clear some things

[beescake]

i am in love with your sollux i think

sollux love party :]

if you’re interested heres some of my personal fondness thoughts on him.. big warning for the mega long read ahead aye

as we alr know sollux's rejection of participation somewhat mirrors dave's rejection of heroism, but even without getting cooked to completion i still find sollux's character v compelling beyond the fourth wall

as someone who doesnt get a pinch of that Protagonist Sparkle to begin with, he can openly say he wants to leave anytime…. and unlike dave, he actually Can leave the scene anytime. but he can never be truly Free from the story via permanent character death like the other trolls.

his irrelevancy is indeed relevant - he’s there so u can point him out.

while his image is intended to be a relic of past internet subculture, his role is not only about hehehaha being a Chad or a 2000s cyberforum 2²chan haxxor ragequit gamebro.

his continued existence also happens to add a Bit to the overarching themes of homestuck! a Bit that gives him longer-lasting thematic relevance compared to the trolls who could’ve had more character potential but didnt get to survive beyond the main story.

the Bit in question:

his defiance contributes to the illusion of agency (treating characters = people with autonomy). he’s “aware” of it, and that recognition is worth noting enough to forcibly keep him alive as both reward and punishment.

considering how his personality & classpect is designed its definitely a very haha thing for hussie to do LOL. he’s made to be op asf so he's resigned to doing dirty work, gradually deteriorating along the way but never truly dying. as fans have mentioned before, him openly rejecting involvement after a while of grim tolerance is like if the sim u were controlling suddenly stopped, looked up and gave u the finger while u were step six into the walkthrough for Every Possible Sim Death Animation.

but since he’s just a sim… the more he hates it, the more you keep him around. if ur sim started complaining abt your whimsical household storyline you’d definitely keep that little fuck.

but yeah i like that sollux is just idling. the significance of his presence being that one dude who's always reliably Somewhere, root core Unchanged, no individual ambitions (possibly due to fear of consequence?), and design-wise: a staple representative product of his time.

compared to dirk's character, who has aged phenomenally well into the present (themes of control + AR + artificial intelligence, clearer exploration around navigating relationships/sexuality, infinite possibilities of self-splinterhood and trait inheritance), sollux's potential is really... contained. bitter. defeatist. limiting and frustrating in the way old tech is.

the world continues moving on to shinier, brighter, more advanced automated things - minimalist and metaverse or whatever but sollux is still here 🧍‍♂️ going woohoo redblue 3d. (tho personally i imagine his vibe similar to what the kids call cassette futurism on pinterest mixed w more grimy grunge insectoid influences eheh)

conceptually-speaking,

at the foundation of it all, the rapid pace of modern development was built off the understanding of ppl like sollux in the past, who were There actively at work while the dough was still beginning to rise

thats one of the cool things abt the idea of trolls preceding humans! the idea that trolls like sollux excelled back when lots of basic shit still needed to be discovered, building structures like networks and codes from scratch, and humans will eventually inherit and reinvent that knowledge in ways that become so optimized it makes the old manual effort seem archaic, slow, and labour-intensive.

but despite information/resources/shortcuts being more accessible now, much of the new highly-anticipated stuff released on trend still end up unfinished, inefficient, or expiring quickly due to cutting corners under severe capitalistic pressures

meanwhile, some of the old stuff frm past generations of thorough, exploratory and perfectionistic development still remains working, complete, and ever so sturdy.

those things continue to exist, just outside our periphery with either:

zero purpose left for modern needs (outdated/obsolete)

or

far too important to replace or destroy, bcs of its surprisingly essential and circumstantial usefulness in one niche specific area.

which are honestly? both points that sum up sollux pree well.

dramatic ending sorry. anw are u still on the fence or are u Sick abt him like me </3

#ask #anon #sollux captor #homestuck #hs2 spoilers #2023 #vioart #hs2 sollux explaining girls and bitches to john: 🗣️🗣️🗣️ #mr foods‚ setting up the visuals: LMAO ok pause. cool story bro theyre all gone its just u n ur sandwich bro. #now that i think abt it sol's kind of a toaster? awkwardly takes up countertop space #lacks the versatility and sociability of an air fryer/pressure cooker. unwashed and littered w crumbs! #but sometimes the clear‚ frank simplicity of the toaster is a temporary lifesaver for ppl who struggle w low appetite / decision fatigue #or ppl who just have a habit of eating toast for breakfast LOL #and eh ¯\ _(ツ)_/¯ even if u dont feel like toasting today thats ok he's still gonna be sitting there 👍👍 #a funnyman..... i curse him in my pan but root for him in my biscuit 🫶

[rcbertleckie]

bucky + smiles

#masters of the air #mota #motaedit #hbowaredit #hbo war #edits #tvedit #hbowardaily #ronsparky #violaobanion #olympain #userstaud #userbells #tuseririna #john egan #callum turner #should i point out the drop in smiles after buck went down #or the chronological order makes it clear enough

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i’ll relearn love at our kitchen table ; satoru gojo

synopsis; satoru doesn’t quite know what love is supposed to feel like. but if it means coming home to you, it can’t possibly be that much of a curse.

word count; 4.9k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, satoru gojo vs. the mortifying ordeal of being loved, fluff fluff fluff!!, a hint of angst if you reeeaallyyy squint, gojo’s pov, the babygirlification of satoru gojo, i just think being babied would fix him <33

a/n; i wanted to write something for suguru or shoko but this man is genuinely holding my brain hostage atp so more satoru fluff it is!! physically i could write gojo angst yes but emotionally? imagine the toll…

when satoru steps over the threshold to your apartment, he’s downright exhausted.

it’s a heavy kind of fatigue, a little sickening. the kind that seems to sneak its way into his bones, crawl its way under his skin. dragging him down, down, down.

a yawn slips from his lips.

the mission itself wasn’t too tough — anything is a breeze for satoru gojo, that fact needs no elaboration. this one was just a little more taxing than usual, slightly more important, which meant he had to deal with the technicalities of it all. had to listen to the elders go on and on about the importance of discretion, about finishing things swiftly and efficiently, and something else he didn’t stick around long enough to hear.

and the curse? a small fry, really. nothing worth fussing over. but it was annoying, with that irritatingly effective barrier technique. how long did he have to stay inside that goddamn veil before it let him get close enough to land a hit? 

satoru doesn’t want to think about it, can’t be bothered to figure it out when all he wants is to collapse into the warm comfort of a soft mattress. all he knows is that when it finally lifted, the night sky was the only thing he could see. a vacuum of stars — taunting in its perpetuity.

so, with all that being said; to say satoru feels a little worn out might be a bit of an understatement. 

hair slightly tousled, eyelids heavy with sleep-deprivation, he slumps against the wall and allows himself to simply breathe. a soft groan flows from his parted lips as he stretches idly, a small respite for his stiff and achy joints, his tired muscles. 

it’s been a long day. but satoru still finds it in him to exhale a relieved breath, to drag his blindfold down to his neck and kick off his shoes.

because it’s been a long, long day — but now he’s finally home.

(not just a house, not just an apartment, but a home. a place of comfort and belonging. satoru didn’t think that was a luxury he would ever be able to afford.)

the moment he lets the door close behind him, a particular scent greets him. soothing in its familiarity, the only thing in his life that never seems to change; a blend between fresh laundry, and watered houseplants, and something that smells a bit like honey. maybe even sweeter than usual, though satoru chalks that up to his mind playing tricks on him. 

it’s nice. so nice. coming back to something warm and real, a respite from his hectic work. a safe haven, of sorts, one that hasn’t been taken from him just yet.

satoru likes to think of your front door as a threshold between realms, a gap between within and without. one is dark in its saturation, plagued by that never-fading smell of iron, while the other is simply warm. sacred in its normalcy. 

everything looks just as it should, the same as when he rushed out this morning; a fluffy blanket draped over the couch haphazardly, that soft golden light streaming out from the kitchen, your shoes by the front door.

satoru blinks, drowsily.

wait.

why is the kitchen light still on?

as if his eyes could ever deceive him, satoru rubs the skin under them groggily — blinking once, then twice. 

yep, it’s still there — that soft fluorescent glow. a sight he’s come to associate with breakfast and dinner and a mellow kind of love, laughter shared over warm meals made by human hands. food tastes better, satoru has come to realize, when you have someone to eat it with. 

ah, but it’s odd. did you forget to turn the lights off? that’s not very like you. 

as if possessed by a strange, irresistible longing, his feet carry him to the kitchen in question. undeniably groggy, his uncoordinated steps are riddled with fatigue, but the yearning in his chest compels him to move forward anyway — a kind of yearning he only fully understands when he enters the space, and sees you slumped over the table, a familiar flicker of cursed energy capturing his attention.

you’re asleep.

satoru stills, where he stands by the threshold between the kitchen and the living room.

everything looks the same as always — cookie jars placed on the highest shelf to give him an excuse to help you reach them, origami made from newspapers he never bothers to read anyway, a vase standing proudly on the kitchen counter, stuffed with fresh flowers he bought for you two days ago. 

the red roses still haven’t wilted, shining in the blue of the moonlight flickering in. good. they’re pretty, but maybe next time he should get you something more original. maybe some sunflowers, something that could rival the brightness of your smile. do they even sell sunflowers this time of year? if you were awake, satoru would ask you, even though you always tell him to just google it —

but you're not awake. you’re fast asleep, cheek squished against the kitchen table, snoring softly.

satoru feels his mood lift at the sight alone, and suddenly he doesn’t feel as tired anymore. something soft and almost otherworldly sprouts in his chest, as he takes you in, stepping closer. almost giddy, just to see you up close.

you look so peaceful and relaxed, so content. elbows resting on the table as soft little breaths fall from your parted lips; he spots a bit of drool on the corner of your bottom lip, gaze fond as he wipes it away with his thumb. he can’t resist the urge to poke your cheek, and it makes you stir ever so slightly — lips curling up into something akin to a sleepy smile.

satoru grins.

(you’re so cute.)

despite his fatigue, he hears himself chuckle, all soft and amused and a little bit lovesick. it comes to him so easily, when he’s with you; that upturn of his lips, the butterflies in his stomach.

satoru is still getting used to it. this cotton candy sweet, light as a feather kind of love. the kind that always feels like spring. but with every day that passes, the life he has with you becomes a little easier to digest. his future with you becomes a little easier to visualize.

yeah, he thinks. he could get used to this. coming home to you.

a soft smile, as he exhales a somewhat exasperated breath. you really shouldn’t be sleeping out here, though. silly.

satoru leans forward, inching closer to your pretty, sleeping face — he almost feels bad, waking you up like this. but he wants to hear your voice so badly.

so he cups your cheek, cold skin meeting warm, his hands still lingering with the bite of the midnight air. his fingertips tingle, buzzing with the body heat that trickles from your veins to his — one single touch is all it takes for him to soften.

the word that falls from his lips breaks the peaceful silence of the kitchen, breathing life into the moment. whispered into your ear, causing your brows to furrow as you gently slip from sleep’s embrace.

“baby…” 

satoru is smiling, when your eyelids flutter open. a sincere smile, reserved for you and his students. bathed in the mellow hue of the kitchen lamp’s illumination, a soft glow curls around the strands of his white hair, creating a halo of artificial light.

blinking sleepily, you gaze at him in silence. something shines in your eyes, something satoru tentatively recognizes as adoration. and he gazes right back at you, with heavy-lidded eyes and a lopsided smile. teasing, lighthearted. thumb smoothing over the apple of your cheek.

then he grins, hopelessly endeared. ”hey there, sleeping beauty.”

a yawn tumbles from your lips, and you lift yourself up. leaning into his touch. “toru…” you mumble, voice a little raspy but still oh so sweet.

satoru doesn’t say anything. he simply takes you into his arms, gently, touch so very delicate — as if you’re made of porcelain. and you just let yourself fall into his embrace, while he tucks you under his chin, safe and secure. 

it’s warm, he thinks. it feels right. complete, somehow.

and satoru thinks to himself that this must be what love feels like. what it’s supposed to feel like, anyhow, all sweet and light. all good and normal, something you never have to question. a cornerstone.

“you’re back…” you drawl, muffled into his uniform as your arms sneak around his thin waist. bringing him closer.

stroking the back of your head softly, satoru’s chest rumbles as he speaks, voice deep and a little raspy. soothing, a lullaby just for you. “yeah,” he hums. ”were you waiting?”

all you do is nuzzle further into his chest, cheek smooshed right over his heart; breathing out a sleepy little mhm that has him going weak at the knees, lips curling up helplessly.

“i wanted to…” you continue, stretching your arms a little to shrug away the remnants of sleep still clinging to your joints. “but i fell asleep.” 

satoru feels you move in his arms, until your jaw settles on top of his shoulder and you press a chaste kiss to his neck. an exhale leaves his lips, something tender in the way his breath wavers.

“welcome home,” is whispered, muffled against his skin. a sentence he never wants to go a single day without hearing. “did the mission go okay?”

he plants a kiss on top of your head, speaking in a low tilt, reassuring. “it did. just took a little longer than i thought.” a soft inhale, as he basks in the scent of your shampoo. “i wanted to text you, but the veil blocked my signal. sorry, sweetie.”

another soft yawn, and a shake of your head. “s’ fine, don’t worry,” you murmur. ”i’m just glad you’re okay.”

satoru chuckles. there’s a fondness to it, light. and then something else, something more heavy — it rumbles through his chest, almost like a purr, or a soothing thunderstorm. he can only hope it’s enough to comfort you.

“of course.” he says the words like they’re indisputable, like they’re written down in scriptures old and worn. cradling you in his strong arms, he pulls you closer to his chest. hoping you’ll feel his heartbeat against you, feel that he’s there. “i always am, aren’t i?”

no answer. only a tiny hum, absentminded.

and satoru knows, deep down, that his words don’t mean much. that a part of you is always going to worry over him, no matter how many times he tells you that there’s no need. that he’ll be fine.

the thought makes him feel a bit guilty. a little sick to his stomach, at the thought of being a source of your anxiety, the reason you can’t fall asleep at night — but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t also make him feel somewhat giddy. the thought tastes sweet, on his tongue, even though it probably shouldn’t.

having someone who worries for you is a luxury, satoru has come to realize. a luxury he has, now, one he hasn’t had since —

well. that’s neither here nor there.

(“be careful, satoru,” he recalls a kind boy saying.

but that was many, many springs ago.)

“oh, right.”

at the sound of your voice, satoru pulls away ever so slightly, gazing down at you. “hm?”

with a single step back, you look up at him. tilting your head. hands still resting securely on his waist, fingertips squeezing at his hips. lightly, affectionately. barely restrained fondness. ”have you had anything to eat yet?”

“yeah. got some takeout on my way back.”

satoru expects you to sigh in relief, at his instantaneous answer. you don’t like it when he skips meals, so these days he’s been trying not to do it as much. even though he doesn’t always have the time to eat properly, and even though the sweets he chews on between missions make him lose his appetite. but he makes an honest attempt, for you.

someone worries for him. someone wants him to eat well. that’s more than enough motivation for satoru gojo.

but you don’t exhale, and you don’t look very relieved, either. you look… disappointed. eyes suddenly glancing down at the floor, lips curled down into a barely noticeable frown. 

“oh,” you breathe. “okay. good.”

one second. then two. satoru tilts his head.

“why?” he stops to think. maybe… “did you make something?”

a certain recognition flickers in the depths of your eyes, and satoru thinks he must be right on the money. chewing at your bottom lip a little, you wait a moment before curling your fingers around his wrist — tugging him away from the kitchen table.

satoru follows, pliantly, until you’re standing in front of the fridge.

“well, um… here,” you mumble, somewhat sheepishly. fingers tapping at the handle before pulling it open. “take a look.”

satoru watches as the fridge door opens, slowly.

he blinks.

the first thing he sees is a single slice of strawberry shortcake. the strawberry looks fresh, glittering like a ruby on top of the softly whisked cream — and layers of sponge cake, that look like they’d melt in his mouth.

and that’s not all. there are a wide array of baked treats stuffed into the cramped space, protected by plastic wrapping and containers. everything from cupcakes with too much frosting — just the way he likes them — to chocolate chip cookies that crumble at the corners, satoru never seems to run out of things to look at. colourful treats, lovingly made and sitting right in front of him. it’s like he’s standing in a patisserie. they almost seem to sparkle, in the peripheral of his vision; glimmering softly, tantalizingly, like something out of a dream.

childish. that’s what nanami and shoko always call him, and he always protests, but —

maybe they have a point, after all. satoru certainly feels a little childish, when he realizes his eyes must be wide and bursting with child-like giddiness. a simple kind of joy, at seeing the ample selection in front of him. especially after that tedious mission prevented him from getting any sugar into his system.

”i did my best,” you mutter, sharing the sight with him as your eyes trail over a pretty bag of pink and green macarons. ”dunno if they turned out any good, but… i hope you’ll like them.”

satoru’s gaze flits over to you. 

he opens his mouth, and then closes it again.

”did you… make these?” a beat. ”for me?”

a blink. ”.. yeah?” who else would they be for?, your eyes seem to say. a little confused.

for a second, satoru can only stare at you. in complete silence, the tired cogs inside his head turning sluggishly as he thinks about the implications of that answer. and with a soft flutter, he feels his heartbeat pick up, warming him up from the inside out. 

you made them. with your own hands. you made all of these and you did it for him.

for some reason, satoru finds it oddly hard to speak, like someone stuffed a bunch of cupcakes down his throat. it’s weird — usually he can’t seem to stop talking, especially not when he’s with you, but… 

(something about this is just too tender.)

you must have been baking all day. no wonder the apartment smelled sweeter than usual, when he walked in.

as if itching to curl around one of the macarons, his fingers twitch, but satoru gulps and keeps them still. he wants to say something, anything, wants to thank you or ask why you’d spend so much of yourself on him, but satoru only stays silent.

and maybe it’s because he’s tired. maybe he’s just a little caught off guard. usually this wouldn’t be that hard to handle — he could just throw himself on you and shower you in kisses, show his appreciation with a flurry of dramatics and declarations of love. 

but right now there seems to be a disconnect, between satoru’s mind and body. maybe the mission drained him more than he realized. or maybe it’s more than that, maybe there’s nothing he can say or do; what words could he even begin to use to properly verbalize the emotions he’s feeling right now? how could his touch ever begin to measure up to the sweet sensation unfurling in his chest?

the silence doesn’t last long. as satoru stands there and spirals, you speak up, most likely chalking it up to him being too sleepy to react. 

”this mission was especially rough, right?” you begin, with a soft tilt of your head. a smile curls its way onto your lips, proud and sweet. sweeter than everything in the fridge combined.

one step, then two. you inch closer to him, until there’s almost no space between you — standing on your tiptoes, one hand on his shoulder and the other reaching for his head. smoothing down his tousled hair, fingers tangling themselves between the soft white strands and getting lost in them. and it’s gentle, the way you begin to pat his head, doting. 

then you speak. ”you did well.”

and it’s such a simple thing to say. three words, three syllables, but the words just tumble out from your mouth so earnestly that satoru can’t help but still. his breath hitches in his throat, softly, barely noticeable, but it’s there. that surprise.

he never knows how to act, when you get like this. patting his head and ruffling his hair like he’s something warm and sweet and worthy of love. something delicate, and not the strongest man on the planet. 

it’s so weird. you’re so weird.

(satoru leans into your touch without thinking, allowing his eyes to flutter shut.)

it’s perplexing, this feeling, and the fact that he can’t pinpoint why frustrates him to no end. isn’t this wrong? shouldn’t he be the one ruffling your hair, coddling you?

what formula is he supposed to follow here, exactly? should he tease you? pull away from your touch?

satoru wishes his six eyes could tell him the answer, but they don’t. they’ve never been very good with emotions, with things that aren’t directly tied to his suffering or imminent death.

(so ironic. all these eyes and nothing to see. they failed to see suguru’s silence, back then, and now they fail to see what reaction would please you the most. 

really, such a worthless ability to love people with.)

no answer comes to him. so satoru doesn’t tease you, and he doesn’t pull away.

it does feel slightly wrong, though. like this feeling isn’t something he’s supposed to have, there must be some mistake, he can’t possibly be allowed to feel so loved — can he? having you bake him all his favorite treats, run your fingers through his hair. praise him for working hard.

really. isn’t he being too coddled?

(… but it feels so nice.)

satoru suspects that there’s a lot to love he might not fully understand, just yet.

maybe tomorrow, when he’s a little less tired, he can try once again to give you the impression that he’s perfect. that he doesn’t need affection, that he doesn’t crave your support or your touch. that he’s above all that, the strongest, someone for you to depend on.

depend on him, while he depends on no one. that’s the kind of existence satoru gojo is. that’s how it should be, that’s all he knows, but…

— ah. it feels really nice when your nails scratch his scalp like that.

and suddenly, that’s all satoru can think. no more pesky what-ifs, or second guessing every good thing he gets. right now, it’s just you and him. your fingers in his hair, his footprints in your life.

satoru allows himself to melt under your touch, almost meekly. leaning down just a little further, to make it easier for you to smooth your hand over his head. he nuzzles into your palm with a happy little exhale, and for some reason he feels sort of bashful.

try as he might, he doesn’t manage to successfully shoo the emotion away, so all he can do is hope you don’t take note of it.

and you just continue your onslaught of affection, now ruffling his hair with both your hands, like he’s a big puppy getting cooed over. satoru has a nagging suspicion that you might be getting a little carried away, but he doesn’t stop you. greedy, in the way he wishes your hands would never leave his hair. the way he hopes you’ll never be too far away from him to reach.

”such a hard worker,” you coo, and he feels himself grow flustered. ”my baby deserves so much love.”

”woah there,” satoru chokes out, grinning, desperately hoping you won’t notice the red tint to his ears. ”are you flirting with me? i have a partner, you know.”

a giggle slips from your lips, sleepy and amused. ”oh, do you?” one of your hands goes to cup his cheek,  thumb caressing the edge of his jaw as you gaze at him fondly. ”lucky them.”

the grin you’re wearing is awfully bright. soft around the edges in a way that has him speechless, brain malfunctioning ever so slightly. satoru makes a mental note to scrap the sunflower idea — there has to be some brighter flower out there, one that can actually compete with your smile. sunflowers just won’t cut it.

but then you let go, and satoru gets broken out of his lovesick stupor.

when your hands leave his skin, his lips curl down into a soft pout. one he rushes to smooth away, before you can notice it.

you step back, failing to stifle a soft bout of laughter, but satoru knows it’s not because you saw it — he knows because your gaze is glued to his hair, and he internally winces when he thinks about how messy it must look, after your little bout of cuteness aggression. 

(you really are weird, finding him cute of all things.)

he expects you to tease him a little more, but you don’t, turning away and tapping your fingers on the kitchen counter. ”if i’d known you’d be home this late,” you speak, stealing one last glance at the pastries before closing the fridge. ”then i would’ve waited until tomorrow. so you could eat them fresh.”

an apology rests on satoru’s tongue, but as if sensing it, you rush to reassure him.

”ah, but this is fine too! they should still taste good!” you turn away, muttering. ”… hopefully.”

then you nod to yourself, crossing your arms absentmindedly. 

satoru looks at you for a second. 

then he steps forward, unable to resist the temptation — tapping at your wrist with the pads of his fingers, before gently curling them around it, coaxing you into turning your head towards him.

the kiss he presses to your lips is soft, delicate. his fingers trace along your jaw, cupping your cheek and tilting your face up slightly, just letting his warm lips rest against yours. sweet and chaste. he sighs into the kiss, content, and feels your pulse pick up.

then he moves down to your jaw, slow and methodical — lazy kisses, sleepy but so full of affection. and little pecks, scattered all over your lips, your cheek, the tip of your nose.

you seem to melt a little, against him, and satoru relishes in it; his ability to make you relax. far more valuable than the six eyes, he would argue.

when he pulls away from you, with what takes tremendous self-restraint, he’s smiling. his gaze meets yours, layered over with pure adoration, blue eyes crinkling as he looks at you. as if you’re his entire world. the kitchen light embraces him, cascading down the contours of his face; the bridge of his nose, the curve of his jaw, his barely noticeable dimples.

and there it is, again — that flicker of love in your eyes, that adoration. as if you’re looking at a painting, something too beautiful for words.

(satoru hopes you can see that very same adoration, reflected in his eyes as he looks at you.)

after a moment, he leans forward, to rest his jaw on the curve of your shoulder. you stumble a little under the weight, caged in as his arms hug your midriff.

”god,” he sighs, breathless, heavy with giddy disbelief. almost whining when he continues, nuzzling into your neck as if to hide. ”why are you so perfect, huh? i don’t get it.”

at that, you huff out a laugh, an amused little breath. wrapping your arms around his neck and scratching softly at his nape. satoru shudders just a little, arms tightening around you.

”stealing my line…” you mutter, accusatory, smile laced over with a honeyed affection. 

another amused breath, this time from him. this is one battle he won’t let you win. ”nah,” he grins, tugging you closer. ”’s mine.”

this is warm, he thinks. this feels right. complete, in a way that satoru never understood before you.

he could probably stand there forever, just basking in it. soaking up your body heat and the smell of your shampoo. until your warmth is all he knows, until he can never get your scent off his skin.

and satoru thinks that he could get used to this. a cotton candy sweet, light as a feather kind of love, one that smells like spring and tastes like strawberry shortcakes and feels like tight hugs shared in kitchens.

your love makes him feel so human. and it’s scary, terrifying even, but it's also too good to pass up. it’s worth the risk. so worth everything.

a yawn leaves your lips, suddenly. satoru feels you soften in his embrace, nuzzling closer to him, stumbling just a tad; he doesn’t think it’s fair, for such a simple gesture to make him as happy as it does.

”sleepy?” he coos, smile giddy and fond. ”let’s go to bed, okay? no more sleeping on the kitchen table, silly.”

a disgruntled little huff resounds throughout the air, as you let your arms fall to your sides. ”that’s on you,” you declare, poking the plush of his chest with your finger. ”i only fell asleep because you took so long.”

a teasing glint flickers in satoru’s eyes.

”wanted to see me that badly, huh?” he coos. you roll your eyes, and he pulls your cheek. ”that’s cute.”

”so what if i did?”

satoru stills. you’re smiling, a little mischievous, but mostly sincere. and it really is very unfair of you, he thinks — to do this to him while his guard is down. 

but he manages to pull himself together, raising an amused eyebrow and booping your nose in a way that catches you off guard. blinking up at him, eyelashes fluttering. 

satoru clears his throat. ”well, that’s sweet.”

then he turns on his heel, suddenly, and strolls over to the fridge. ”but you know what’s even sweeter?” he chirps, fingers curling around the handle as he swiftly pulls it open. 

licking his lips, absentmindedly, his eyes trail over all the different pastries. so close yet so far, just out of reach; his fingers move forward, towards that mesmerizing slice of strawberry shortcake —

”— no.”

a hand settles on satoru’s waist, and tugs him away from his well-deserved prize. taking advantage of his momentary surprise, you close the fridge decisively, and give him an unimpressed raise of your eyebrow.

satoru whines, loud and grating. pouting sweetly, trying to make you feel bad. ”c’mon, just one bite —”

”no.”

”but they’re for me!”

”they’re for you to eat tomorrow. i was only gonna let you eat them tonight if you were on the brink of starvation, or something.”

”i am!”

”so the takeout was a lie?” you narrow your eyes at him, suddenly suspicious. ”have you been skipping meals, again?”

satoru pauses. weighing his options. ”well, no, but…”

”— then no.”

another soft whine. you turn away from him, when he tilts his head and gives you his best set of puppy dog eyes. in fear of giving in to them, satoru knows, as you have so many times before. ”please?” he tries, to no avail.

”you’re not eating sweets before bed, satoru,” you deadpan, and his smile falls further, exaggerated. ”and no, we are not having that conversation again.”

he can tell you’re trying to sound stern, but a giggle tumbles from your lips nonetheless, at the ridiculousness of the situation. keeping a grown man away from your fridge, knowing that he’ll wolf down every pastry he sees and get himself sick if you don’t. all while the man in question whines at you in protest, frowing so deeply, disappointment evident on his features.

(except satoru really isn’t very disappointed at all. like this, he gets to stare at your smile all he wants, after all; knowing you won’t notice it, too busy trying to keep yourself from giving in to his pleas.)

he tries again, one last time. just because he knows it’ll make you laugh. you do, a little exasperated, and satoru couldn’t be happier. 

and he thinks to himself that if this is what love is, if this is what it’s supposed to feel like, then it can’t possibly be that much of a curse. 

maybe he should revise the hypothesis, get a second opinion. he’ll have to ask you tomorrow, over pastries and coffee, and hear what you have to say.

as you both stumble to the bedroom, sleepy and a little delirious, satoru thinks that maybe this is enough; the lighthearted banter, the fond laughter. everything good and real and normal, within the space of your apartment, a home he never thought he’d have.

(and maybe, a second opinion isn’t necessary, after all. maybe it doesn’t really matter if love is a curse or not, as long as he gets to share it with you, like this.)

that night, satoru dreams. curled up with you beneath the blankets, limbs tangled together, as if he could never be close enough.

he dreams of kitchen lights, of sweet treats and warm hands. of spring breezes, and a love he’s finally beginning to accept for what it is:

good. wholly and thoroughly.

#lovesick satoru is my favorite satoru but yknow whats even better? lovesick satoru/lovesick reader #i just have such a firm belief that this man is a loser when hes genuinely in love ok. #hes so touch starved i think he’d crumble into a little puddle on the floor if u kissed his cheek #loves to tease and fluster you n hes so good at it but the moment u give him the same treatment? he is Gone. down for the count #spreading the loser satoru agenda <33 i love this man so dearly. #i NEED to hold his waist btw idk if i made that clear. i need it like i need air to breathe. like why is it so tiny if not to be held by me #had to hold myself back like a wolf during a full moon from describing his waist in too much detail youre welcome #overall idk what to say i just think love could fix him #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk x reader

[f1-stuff]

Boy had to take a break and swallow mid-sentence when he thought about the make-up sex he'll be having later...

#carlos has some groveling to do...in the bedroom... #'clear the air' is code for ******* #charlos #Chinese GP '24 #2024