#i’m assuming there are way more adult heroes than kid ones too

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

About representation of child abuse in ML

I’m sorry if this isn’t the proper way to send it I chose it because I can actually divide paragraphs here. I am also assuming none of the abuse submissions are reblogged because of the subject.  I was neglected as a child(parents often forgot to feed me, didn’t care about my hygiene and I couldn’t go to the doctor when I should have) and emotionally abused after coming out as trans as a young teen(constantly being pressured to stop being trans, treating me as stupid and melodramatic for being trans at all, showing open disgust if I did something “too manly” etc.). I was a bully for two years in middle school before realizing the weight of what I was doing. I had to put in a lot of effort to improve, especially since guilt was feeding into already-existing self-hatred. When I first saw Miraculous Ladybug on TV I didn’t expect child abuse to come up at all since it’s a hard topic even for adults and Miraculous didn’t seem like the show to tackle a complicated topic. Looking back they shouldn’t have tried because they end up giving incredibly bad messages. As you point out Chloe is treated as irredeemable and sent off with her abusive parent as punishment while Andre is never treated as the neglectful parent he is. While children can be abusive to their parents Andre is the mayor of Paris while Chloe is a kid, he holds a lot of power here that he refuses to use at all. He also doesn’t try to get Chloe psychological help which would be the correct course of action seeing her mother despite the fact it wouldn’t even make a dent in his pocket. It would be better to either have Chloe’s redemption fail while highlighting how her parents affect her behaviour but don’t justify it or have a straightforward redemption arc, maybe one where she doesn’t get forgiven but still improves to show kids there’s a way out. “I will always be like this because of abuse” is an easy thought to fall into and ML accidentally ends up teaching it to kids, Jesus. The other thing that really bugs me is the treatment Gabriel gets, it seems to me that the show tries to use his love for his wife and son as a redeeming quality but I am not sure on how good an idea that is. It’s better than if he were to hate Adrien but loving Adrien doesn’t excuse any of the things he does. In my experience most abusive parents do love their children, they really think they are doing the best for their kids. The kicker comes in when they end up harming their children in some way but refuse to acknowledge it. If your parents always end up doing more harm than good and refuse to stop, then love alone can’t save it. I don’t think that point was there as Gabriel’s love was portrayed as a good thing because this show doesn’t do nuance. Also the plot Gabriel abusing Adrien should mainly be about how Adrien feels. Of course it will affect other characters but Adrien is the one getting abused by Gabriel. Gabriel is also an incredibly controlling parent who takes away Adrien’s agency and the show never really addresses that. Adrien is a bystander in a story-arc about him getting abused. He never learns that Gabriel is Hawk Moth(writers seem to think we forgot Chat Blanc and even then that episode was more about “Ooo hero gets akumatized”), we never learn his thoughts about the whole situation and Gabriel completely gets his way in the end, leading to a happy ending. Adrien’s contribution to the finale is giving up the agency he had left. This really left a sour taste in my mouth. If you’re not going to deal with how abuse affects Adrien, why write it in at all?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

First of all, I’d like to thank you for being able to step forward and talk about your history with your parents. I’m very sorry that you had to go through that.

Second of all, you make a good point with how much the show empasizes Gabriel’s love for his family supposedly justifying his terrible actions, with or without the mask. It doesn’t help that, like you said, he doesn’t even get to confront Gabriel about their relationship himself, and ends the season believing all the delusions Gabriel had about him being a good father. 

Hell, even the movie does a better job at pointing out how much Gabriel has hurt his son over the show itself, and I’m pretty sure that’s why so many people prefer that version of Gabriel over this one. 

#thing delivered to my ask box because tumblr won't let me say the s-word #immaturity of thomas astruc #iota #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug salt #child abuse in miraculous ladybug

[mj-thrush-gxn]

I wanna do age headcanons cus im bored:

i’ll start with kids (also including the adult ages too, so adding 25 years)

Lark and Sparrow- just barely turned 12 before the realms. they would be 37 in s2.

Grant- turned 13 also very recent before the realms. he sometimes forgets he’s 13 and says he’s 12. this is just a way for me to justify him saying he’s 13 during for knights. he would be 38 in s2.

Nick- i wanna say he’s the oldest but that’s just me projecting. i’m saying he turned 14 in the realms. im saying glenn was in prison on his birthday and nobody remembered but him. okay- he would be 39 in s2

Tj- 12 going on 13. idk i like making tall people really young it’s fun to me. he would be 37 as well in s2.

idk they’re all like junior high age.

Dads:

Henry- 39. mainly because of the whole 20 years since he saw his dad. i’m saying he just rounded up one year. (physically like 20 but dresses his age.)

Darryl- pretty sure he’s canonically 37. since he broke his arm when he was 36 and matt said that was last year.

Glenn- Canonically 36 at the start, 54 at the end. Meth Bay Prison Blues you will always be famous to me.

Ron- 45. making him the same age of my mom. he was born in 1974 according to me. that way willy dies in the 80s.

Teens (pretty self explanatory):

Scary- 16, sophomore age idk

Normal- also 16

Link- 17. is a year older since he was homeschooled.

Taylor- Anywhere between 16 and 19. the whole thing with him being 19 is really funny but i think he’s just 16. i’ll probably make jokes about it later.

Hermie- was 2

Odads-

Willy- died at 56. Im assuming he was around 9 in Atmod. i’m also assuming ron was about 12 when willy died. willy would have died in 1986, making him 56.

Barry- 60. he’s still aging. he had henry kinda young cause cmon- he lives in a forest and runs a cult-

Bill- had glenn around 32. died when glenn was 15. im making him carry on the live fast die young gene. died at 47. i think it’s fun if glenn outlives him. [christine is much older than him. (10 years) and i’m happy about that]

Frank- Really atmod messes with the timeline so much 😭 he would’ve had to be born in 1940. darryl was born in 1982, which already makes frank 42, which isn’t that bad. at 18 years to that for the college stuff, frank died at 60- which actually lines up with darryl quite well, since matt made a joke about darryl likely not living past 60. THEM FAMILY GENES!!!

and for the spouses just assume about the same age as them. i’m not writing more🤭

oh and hero is 18

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #dndaddies #thrush rambles #thrush talks #dndads s1 #dndads s2 #age headcanons

[wingedcat13]

Synovus: A Wishing Star

[Canonically, this takes place before ‘Call Me Menace’ - which is why there’s a notable lack of Alexandria and Minerva in this segment. This was requested by an Anon, with the prompt of Synovus being asked for by a Make a Wish child, through the Make a Wish foundation.]

[Trigger warnings for childhood cancer, descriptions of illness and hospitals, and discussions of suicide. Reference is also made to the possibility of substance abuse. Unlike most of my writing, for this, I cannot promise you will find this ending happy.]

“Your name came up today,” Rosie called up to you, laboriously walking laps around the cafeteria.

“Of course it did.” You replied laconically, keeping a careful eye on her progress from a perch in the rafters. Your shadows were ready to catch and steady her if she stumbled, though you both pretended you were too occupied with your knitting. “I am an incredibly interesting person. On a completely unrelated note, tell Dr. Grouch that he will receive payment shortly.”

That wasn’t an epithet, ‘Dr. Grouch.’ It was genuinely the man’s name. Dr. Jeremy Grouch, a pediatric cancer specialist, who had the good fortune of being the best choice for you to kidnap when Rosie had finally told you why she’d been half-joking about retirement. He was no longer your ‘guest,’ having returned to the mainland full time a few weeks prior, but he still communicated with Rosie quite often.

A bark of laughter had Rosie pausing, out of breath, to brace herself against the wall. She turned to rest her back against it, but since she didn’t sit, you didn’t jump down to see if she was alright. Even if you had stopped knitting.

“Not for the money.” Rosie assured you, when she had caught her breath enough to reply without wheezing. “He thinks you’re more than generous.”

“Dr. Grouch could stand to live up to his name a bit more.” You tsk’ed, “I kidnapped him, forced him to work for me. He didn’t even haggle.”

Not that this would have done him much good in the beginning. Historically, you did not respond well to threats or extortion. But you did respect a good hustle, and you were fairly certain that Dr. Grouch had been aware he could’ve pushed for more of a reward once Rosie was declared in remission. He hadn’t taken the opportunity.

“He isn’t hurting for wealth.” Rosie pointed out. The sardonic note to her voice had made you smile. You and your minions were in the business of exploiting greed and committing evils, but that did not make any of you less inclined to judge others for anything less than your own morality demanded. And that often included each other.

But Rosie’s tone shifted, becoming something lighter, “He said one of his patients asked to meet you.”

“What?”

“One of his patients wants to meet you.” Rosie repeated patiently. “Wished for it, even.”

You forced your tone to remain light, glad you were up in the rafters where she couldn’t see your body language. “Well, there’s a rarity. How many people ever say ‘I wish to meet Synovus?’”

Rosie sighed. “Usually just people who want to kill you.”

“Are we certain that isn’t what the child wants? I’m assuming it’s a child, adults usually know better.” You picked up another stitch, fumbled it, did it again. This time it stuck.

It wasn’t the idea of a child trying to kill you that had you so… disoriented. You’d been responsible for the deaths of a lot of parents over the years - you wouldn’t be surprised if there had been hundreds of vendettas sworn against you, or all villain kind, or even the heroes who had failed to stop you, over the years. But kids - children - you had a soft spot for.

You remembered too clearly what it was like to be young, sheltered, and out of control of your life. It was debatable, some days, how much of that still applied to you in some way or another.

“I’d bet on the kid.” Rosie remarked.

“I-“ You twirled one knitting needle, intending to point it at her, and snagged it in the trailing end of your yarn instead. It didn’t matter, because she couldn’t see you. “- take offense on the child’s behalf that you would doubt them.”

“Oh yeah?” Rosie perked up, “Offended enough to defend their honor in person?”

Frowning, you set down your knitting again. “What are you asking me here, Rosie?”

“I want to know if you’ll honor the kid’s Wish.”

There was something in the way she said it that gave you pause. You mulled it over.

“When you say ‘wish,’ you don’t just mean a general expressed desire, do you.”

It wasn’t much of a question, but Rosie answered anyway, “Nope. I mean the Wish. Apparently they hadn’t wanted to say anything, because they didn’t think anyone would let them, but they were talking to Dr. Grouch, and asked where he’d been -“

You groaned. You’d been assured of his adherence to HIPAA, but hadn’t pushed too hard on the ‘never tell anyone where you’ve been, ever, on pain of excruciatingly over described death’ angle. Maybe you should’ve.

“- yeah, I know, but apparently he only told the kid and asked them to keep it a secret, and the kid ‘lit up like it was Christmas.’” Rosie relayed this information, complete with air quotes, without moving from the wall.

To avoid thinking about the idea of being anyone’s last, true Wish - the big W, the heart’s desire, the crown of a bucket list - you instead thought about how Rosie had trapped you. You couldn’t just disappear because then she’d be alone, and could still collapse. You couldn’t call her physical therapy completed for the day yet either, because she hadn’t finished this lap.

Evil, your minions. Absolutely evil.

You sighed, sure Rosie would feel it, even if she couldn’t hear it at this distance. “Very well.” You conceded, morose. “When are we meeting this little miscreant?”

—-

Hospitals were not easy for you to break into. Not when you were in costume, at least. You could get terrifyingly far in a white coat with a coffee cup and a clipboard, but that came down to timing and confidence and an aura of ‘fuck off, I am incredibly busy’ that you’ve always felt most doctors cultivated on purpose.

That didn’t really work when you were in all black with a cape and a helmet. And this was a children’s cancer ward, so it wasn’t like you could just wait till everyone went home. Windows didn’t open up here either.

So you’d had Dr. Grouch let you in from the helipad on the roof.

“You’ve taken the precautions I requested?” He asked, as you paused outside of the ward itself. “Fully clean, as you would have for Ms. Rosie? You will not touch anything you do not have to, and will call for assistance if she seems overwrought?”

“Yes, Dr. Grouch.” You replied, accepting another antiseptic wipe for your gloves. “I am here to answer a summons. That is all. I swear that your charge will not come to harm from me.”

You did not point out he had been the one to arrange this meeting. His face made a strange expression, as though he were surprised, and surprised at being surprised, and a bit disappointed in himself for that sequence of events. Still, he recovered quickly.

“At least I do not have to remind you to wear a mask.” He granted, in an attempt at levity. Luckily for you both, you didn’t actually need to reply, because he was already triggering the ward doors for you to enter.

While Grouch moved to the ward station, motioning to calm the various staff on duty, you moved with purpose for the room you’d been directed to earlier. Grouch was telling the staff that he’d found someone willing to stand in for you, as a way of reassuring them. You weren’t sure they’d buy it, but it really wasn’t your problem for the moment.

You moved quietly. You weren’t sure whether or which other rooms were occupied, and you didn’t intend to scare anyone who hadn’t requested to see you tonight. For that same reason, you double checked the number on the door you opened, and lifted it faintly on its hinges, that it would open smoothly and as silently as you could make it.

The room beyond was dim, if not completely dark. The corridor behind you was also dimmed for the night cycle, trying to give the ward’s occupants a chance at sleeping, though the ward station was still well-illuminated. You made sure its light wouldn’t give you a halo or shadow as you entered, and quietly shut the door behind yourself.

You aren’t familiar enough with hospitals to say whether this room is average or not. Tiled floors, the bed that is also a gurney, sparse furniture, windows on the far wall. There are signs of life here, in the form of some decaying flowers on the dresser, with several cards propped around their vase where the bed’s occupant can see. A television is mounted near the ceiling on an extendable arm, but it’s off for now.

There’s a few sources of dim light - the distant aura of the streetlights casts the bars supporting the windows on the wall across from the bed. A floor light illuminates the tile enough to show any potential tripping hazards. The odd blinking light on the medical equipment provides a dash of color to the gloom.

And in the bed, there is a lump curled on its side, as far as the IV line and monitors will allow it, blankets pulled tight over the shoulder and tucked near the chin. Dr. Grouch told you some basics about the patient before you reached this floor, so you know who you are supposed to be meeting. You feel bad for waking her, but you’ve been assured she doesn’t sleep well anyway, and is likely awake. Judging by the faint rustling of a body’s small movements, that judgement was accurate.

You are reminded of Dr. Grouch’s planned lie, out in the hall. You do not want this child to think they are being tricked. So you stay where you are, in the deeper shadow of the door-well, and you summon your shadows to life.

The window frame shadows make an excellent trellis for your branching additions - they stretch out, forming words in deeper darkness than the natural shadow from which they are woven. If you are mistaken, if this is the wrong room, if the girl sleeps, you won’t have disturbed them.

But you see the streetlight illuminate the planes of a too-sharp face as it turns to focus bleary eyes on what you’ve written.

Hello, Loralai.

At fourteen years old, Loralai should still have the roundness of youth. She does not. Nor is she quite skeletal, despite the advanced nature of her illness. It almost seems, in the half light, as though a slight push would be all that was necessary to send her in either direction: back to the hale softness of health, or further on to the sharp stillness of death.

She blinks. Her eyes widen, then narrow, then widen again. You belatedly wonder if perhaps she needs glasses. Or what if she’s dyslexic? Your shadow-words are hardly the easiest things to read. Damn it, Synovus, now is not the time for posturing and-

“Synovus?” Asks a breathless, whispering voice.

“In the flesh.” You reply, because you are a melodramatic moron. Still, your voice is quiet, and you remain unmoving.

There’s some more rustling. The bed is already mostly elevated, so Loralai doesn’t need to try and sit up so much as readjust how she’s sitting. There’s a click of a lamp - and then there’s a real light source in the room, even if it’s dulled by the lampshade.

You step forward as Loralai rubs the spots from her vision with one hand. There’s an IV catheter taped to the back of it from some recent event, the bruising around it just beginning to ripen. You don’t remember what that might mean, if anything.

As she gets her vision back and examines you, you turn your helmet, pretending to survey the room. Eyes bright with curiosity flick from the helmet to the cape to the patterns of padding over your torso. She does not seem scared, but then, why would she be? Dr. Grouch had informed you she was well aware her case was terminal. You may be a specter of death to some people, but this child has already started staring down the real thing.

“You are Loralai Weber?” You ask, turning back to face her directly.

She nods, leaning back against her pillows. You can see exhaustion on every line of her too-young face, but it seems not to have any power over her at the moment. “Yes. I didn’t think you’d actually come to see me.”

You gesture aimlessly, “I am not often asked for.” You reply candidly. “You’ve piqued my interest. And.. one could say I was in the neighborhood.”

Loralai’s expression brightens, “Are you going to attack the hospital?”

You frown. The prospect seems to excite her. Still, you keep your voice casual, noncommittal, “Not tonight, at least.”

“Damn.” Loralai sounds disappointed now. You muffle your amusement at her cursing as she continues, “Any time soon, maybe? Like, in the next week?”

She can’t see you raise your brows, so you tilt your head to one side, “You sound almost hopeful, Ms. Weber. Why could that be?”

Loralai averts her gaze for a moment, plucking slowly at the top blanket of her bed. This is the moment of truth, really. You spent hours trying to figure out what you might be asked for:

Could you kill someone for her? A doctor, a nurse, another patient who was really annoying? Or could you attack the hospital, so she could help you wreak havoc, and have the chance to feel as powerful as a Villain? Alternatively, what if she were the one to stop you? You were dreading the deathbed request that you ‘turn good,’ but that doesn’t seem to be forthcoming. Maybe she simply wishes to witness a hero battle up close, and needs you to initiate it. Or-

“I want you to kill me.”

You freeze. Most of you, anyway, as your stomach seems to have left out the ground floor entrance. You had not anticipated this. You feel like you should have.

Remorseless for your shock, Loralai continues, managing to look directly at your helmet face as her words spill over each other, “I know I’m dying, and that I don’t have long left, but I’ve been dying for months, and I just feel worse and worse every day, and I - I want to die fast, not slow. I want it to be over. You - you could make it quick for me, couldn’t you?”

You have not been inclined towards religion for a very long time. Yet, in this moment, you see the appeal of dropping to your knees and offering a fervent prayer of gratitude to whoever or whatever might be listening that you gave Dr. Grouch your word in the hall. You do not want to answer Loralai’s question, or know what your answer would be. You refuse to acknowledge the burgeoning answer within you.

The horror of it all still threatens to overwhelm you. The shadows in the room thicken, automatically reaching for you to provide shelter from unfortunate truths and uncomfortable conversation. This is why she asked for you. Because you are evil. Because you are terrible enough to meet a child face to face and kill them at their own request. Because you are not beholden to law, morality, or sympathy.

The black pit of despair yawns, and it is only by the barest shred of your willpower that you stay out of it - as awful as you feel in this moment, as much as you know you have only delayed your own suffering, the fact remains: you are not the one dying here.

It does not matter how you feel, looking at someone younger than you were when you finally found freedom, and knowing they will never reach the same age, the same feeling. It does not matter how you feel about their request. Loralai Weber sits in a hospital bed, terminal at 14 years old, and she is suffering badly enough to seek the Scourge of the West Coast.

So you scrape yourself together, and move to the end of her bed.

“May I sit?”

Loralai nods, brow still furrowed, and shuffles her feet so you can avoid accidentally sitting on them. You perch there, partially leaning on the rail at the foot of the bed, and watch her for a long moment.

“Yes.” You say, finally. “I could make your death swift. There is little you could do to stop me.”

You have Loralai’s undivided attention. When you stop speaking, she waits. The clearer it becomes that you will not say more, the further her face falls. “Could.” She says tonelessly. “But won’t.”

“No.” You confirm quietly. “I will not.”

“Why?” Loralai cries. She tries to gesture to herself, to the room that she’s in. “You’ve killed so many people! What’s one more to you? Why not me? Is it - do you want me to suffer, is that it? Would this be too merciful for you?”

You let her yell, and gesture, even when she comes within several inches of you. “No, Loralai. I do not want you to suffer. But nor do I think this would be an act of mercy.” You avoid addressing the issue of your body count.

Loralai looks offended and confused, gaping at you for a moment. “Does this look like a life worth living?” She demands.

Your answer is without hesitation, “Yes.”

The girl’s face contorts with incredulity, then despair, then anger. Her eyes are increasingly red-rimmed, and there’s a wet quality to her wavering voice when she responds, “Fuck you.”

Grimly, you brace yourself for much worse before the night is over. She hasn’t ordered you out yet, so you have to attempt to explain. Even if you cannot give her what she wants, you can be an outlet for her anger, and the face she cannot show to her doctors.

“There are cards on the dresser.” You point out.

“Classmates I’ve never even met.” Loralai responds flatly.

“Flowers, too.”

“Another parent bought some for the whole floor after their kid bit it. It’s a pity gift to make them feel better, nothing to do with me.”

“You still have family.”

“So they should get the honor and joy of watching me die? Paying a fortune for every extra hour I sit here and wait for it to be my turn?”

“It is worth it, to them.” You explain, matter-of-fact. “Every penny. Every extra shift. Every loan. Every night on your fold-out couch. How did you convince your mother not to be here tonight?”

Loralai flinches. “She has a bad back.” She mutters, “She - it’s better for her to be home, in a real bed. And so what if it’s worth it to them? What if it’s not worth it to me? Can’t I choose how and when I die?”

You sigh, “If that were true, the world would be full of immortals. And suicides. You realize that is what you asked of me, yes? An assisted suicide?”

Loralai draws back at the word, but doesn’t deny it. “It’s not like it would be anything new for you.”

The truth of that statement is painful. For a moment, you hear a distant ringing with no physical source. You are acutely aware of the shadows in this room - their patterns under the bed, on the wall, the sky behind the window, in the spaces under your skin-

“I am not your tool.” You rasp, before remembering that Loralai couldn’t possibly know about your past. She is a teenager. A hurt one. They always have a gift for striking true, even when they lash out blindly.

You take a deep breath, and suppress the shadows again. You don’t want to know how far up your arms they reached before you regained your senses. “And I will not be baited into killing you either. You are right - I’ve killed. Plenty. I will again. But I do so for my own reasons, and not because someone asks me to. You asked for me by name, Ms. Weber, out of all of the villains on the West Coast, so I’m guessing you know that.”

Loralai opens her mouth to respond - then looks away.

“You have every right to be angry.” You continue into the silence, “With me, with the people around you. With the doctors and nurses for how often they check in and the poking and prodding they do. With the kitchen for the quality of the hospital food. With your parents for not sparing you this life, or being overbearing in their concern, or not being able to balance what it is you really need.”

You pause. Loralai doesn’t respond. You continue, “I would be angry. I would be furious with every car that passed by and honked its horn, because I’m stuck up here dying, and they only care about the stupid traffic. And I would be even more angry about the fact I can’t tell anyone that without becoming the bad guy, who can’t take their situation with grace.”

“But you won’t kill me.” Loralai says finally, “Before I do something I regret. Or become a husk of myself.”

This time, it’s your turn to remain silent. Loralai turns to look at you, even if she can’t find your eyes in the mask. She’s crying now, but so far managing to hold off actual sobs, “Why can’t I be selfish? Just once?”

You offer her your hands, and aren’t surprised or offended when she doesn’t take them.

“You should be selfish.” You tell her, and the ferocity in your voice takes her aback. “You should be as selfish and greedy as you can. You should seize every moment - every conversation with your parents, every breath of conditioned air, every chance you get to actually smile. Even if you only get one more of those, Loralai, it’s one more than you would get if I did what you’ve asked. Dying isn’t selfish. It isn’t selfless either. It just is, the same way taxes are due and commercials always take too long and the drivers outside your window have road rage. It’ll happen whether you want it to or not. Don’t lean into it.”

Converse to your own advice, you lean towards Loralai, adding, “Kick the bastard in the balls.”

On reflex, she gives you a confused, watery half-smile.

“Yes!” You cry, as though this is a great victory. “Just like that! Rip and tear your joy from the universe.”

That wins you a snort - though the amusement doesn’t last.

“I’m not strong enough to do that.” Loralai deflects, turning a hand over in your general direction. “I’m not like you. I can’t literally steal happiness from - banks, or whatever it is you rob.”

“Banks.” You admit, “Though usually their corporate offices instead of the average buildings. Irrelevant, however: how many of my fights do you actually see me win?”

Loralai frowned. “Uh….”

You don’t leave her hanging long, “It depends on your definition of ‘victory’ really - but if I count it like the heroes do, where a victory is when I have my opponent in my custody, I haven’t won a single fight in over ten years. My track record is abysmal.”

(This is not strictly true - but it does count for your fights with heroes. Interpersonal villain matters you handle rarely make the news.)

“So, what, you’re bad at your job?” Loralai says bluntly, sarcasm tingeing her voice.

“I’m fantastic at my job.” You can’t help the rebuttal, it’s too much in your nature. “Because even if I don’t take down the hero who comes after me - and let’s face it, they’ll keep sending them endlessly, it’s exhausting - I still do what I set out to do. Sometimes that’s steal something. Kill someone. Make a scene. On bad days, just get out and away. And if you use that metric, well, darling, my track record is spectacular.”

Loralai considers this for a moment, staring into the middle distance between you. It’s impossible to figure out what she’s actually thinking of.

“Your metaphors suck.”

Well okay then. “My metaphors are elegant contrivances -“ You give up when Loralai gives you a look, and sigh instead.

Still, what you’ve said seems to have made some difference. Loralai has stopped crying, and she doesn’t feel as.. raw, as before. You hope it’s the right kind of difference, and that you haven’t just chased her further into a shell. You wait for her to break the silence again.

“So you think I should live, for the people around me?” She challenges, indicating the flowers and cards. You both know that’s only a fragment of your argument, but you’re willing to play ball.

“Nope.” You reply succinctly. “I think you should live for you and your own experiences. However, I think you are currently in a position where you have to see your joys in others before you can see them for yourself. If they anchor you, use it.”

She’s staring at you now, expression unreadable. “And you think that will get better.”

You almost answer ‘yes’ - but you know that isn’t quite what she’s asking. There’s a second half to that statement that is a question, left unspoken: ‘will it get better before I die?’

And for all of your lies, you answer her honestly. “I don’t know.”

Loralai nods. You want to clarify, to explain that even a chance is a chance worth taking. You want to give her some of your own rage at the world, the defiance that makes it possible to simply refuse to die. The conviction that let you kill a god.

No, maybe not that. You’re not sure that would be a blessing after all.

“Okay.” She says, after several moments. “Fine. I get to live. For now. But when I die -“ Loralai’s attention abandons the far wall and the middle distance, zeroing in on you, “- if my life gets any worse between now and then, if I don’t get any more good stuff like you’ve described, I’m haunting you.”

You believe her. “I believe you.” You say solemnly. “And there are few things in this world more terrifying than a teenage ghost. No, that isn’t sarcasm, I’m serious. Once-“

—-

You spend the rest of the hour telling stories of the teenaged ghost you’d met once in New Orleans, back when that wasn’t quite anyone’s territory. It’s not nearly enough time to share all of her stories - but it is enough that you remember her fondly, and smell the faint scent of bergamot and citrus that always heralded her presence.

When you spoke to her more regularly, you teased her about being a ghost who smelled like Irish Spring, and she ensured your cape got caught on everything it possibly could. You feel a tug on it, as you are moving to leave, and understand the prompt.

“Here.” You tell Loralai, unclasping your cape from your shoulders, and draping it over the bed.

“Does this have magic powers, or something? Is it bulletproof?” Loralai lifts it’s edge, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. She’s in higher spirits, but the bags under her eyes have deepened. She’s also cold, though you don’t think you’d be able to get her to admit it.

“Nah.”

“Then why would I want it?” Remarkable, how little your status matters to teenagers. You aren’t sure if it’s your curse or a trait of the species.

“Capes are cool.” You reply confidently.

There are other reasons too - it gives your ghost friend an anchor to stay with her better, it’s warm, it will remind her this wasn’t a dream. If her family needs to, they can sell it to cover some of the medical bills, since (unlike some heroes and villains) you rarely leave a trace behind, and collectors would love to get ahold of one of your capes. Actually, Tallflawes might even buy it at an exorbitant price, just to taunt you with it. But this isn’t a lie: capes are cool.

“Whatever.” Loralai says sleepily, resting back on her pillows, your cape tucked up under her chin. “Goodbye, Synovus.”

“Goodbye, Loralai Weber.” You say gently. You aren’t sure if she even notices your shadows flip the switch on the bedside lamp, returning the room to darkness. Your shadows muffle your exit back into the hall.

You leave as quickly as possible, after that.

—-

The good thing about being a dramatic fool on purpose, is that when you are having a public meltdown, it can appear as though you are simply performing again. The shadows contorting and swirling around you? Ah, Synovus, making an entrance. Disappearing between one blink and the next to the unobservant, because you’ve turned and booked it into the dark? A classic exit.

Your minions know you too well for that facade to hold. They also know you too well to ask.

You stalk down the halls, lights seeming to ripple in your wake with the amount of shadows you’re dragging, like a toddler with their blanket on their way to throw a tantrum. But you skip the training room. You wind up in the kitchen, as Oflok watches from a distance.

You spend an indeterminable amount of time staring at the collection of alcohol. You don’t indulge, because you are terrified of what might happen if you lose control of yourself. You know you are a walking bomb. Your minions can partake as they like, however, and today, reminded of how destructive you are, you want very badly to join them. To get wasted beyond memory.

“I want you to kill me.”

You get as far as reaching up one hand for a bottle. You don’t know which, you didn’t bother to read the labels. You lower your hand. Spin on your heel. And leave.

—-

It’s Rosie and Doll who hover in the corner, silent witnesses while you dig through the cabinets in the infirmary. You grab the first ampoule of a drug that looks like it would force you out of your mind that you can get your hands on. You have a tray laid out with syringe, bandages, tourniquet, disinfectant wipes, before you realize what you’re doing.

“Does this look like a life worth living?”

You walk out without a word.

—-

The grave at the bottom of the island is not well tended. It is not a monument to be remembered. This is the third time you have visited it since you stopped obsessively checking for signs of disturbances, in case it’s occupant decided to crawl back out.

You tell the empty space about Loralai Weber. What she looked like, what she asked of you, what that means. This time, you’re free to cry, though whether it’s for her or yourself, you’ll never be able to parse. By the end, you are screaming in the dark cave, knowing it’s all pointless at this stage in the game.

The man in the grave could heal himself, when he wanted. And very rarely, when he was convinced it was ‘appropriate,’ he could heal others too. He wouldn’t have counted Loralai Weber as ‘appropriate’ for his gift. You would. It doesn’t matter, though.

It’s the one part of his powers you never inherited.

—-

[Thank you for reading Synovus: A Wishing Star - if you want to read more of Synovus, you can find the rest of their stories on my blog, in the pinned post. Further, if you want to find out more about the Make A Wish Foundation, you can read stories of children they've helped (in rather different ways than Synovus) on their website, or donate here.]

[I do not have a personal story to share for Loralai's inspiration. However, I did tap into my experiences as a chronically ill individual, and the mental state I experienced both before and during treatment. There are still days I wonder as Loralai does - but I wholeheartedly believe as Synovus says: This life is worth living. It is for you too.]

#synovus #synoverse #Synovus: A Wishing Star #tw cancer #please dm me if you feel additional tags are necessary! #reader discretion advised #tw suicidal ideation #tw implied child death #tw self destructive behavior

[circuses-and-childhoodtrauma]

Teen Dad Drex?

With the new developments with Drex, I decided to go back in my notes and find an old timeline that I had of his age and how it corresponds with the story and I added in the details of Lil Dynamite as well so that we may see how his birth lines up with Drex’s age. It takes quite some work but I hope it’s insightful and that I explain every decision I made properly. If there’s anything anyone else would like to add lmk! Also warning this is a p long post

So I believe the easiest place to start is Drex’s debut in season 3 episode 6 of Henry Danger. This episode featured a 15 year old Henry and a 35 year old Ray. In this episode, Ray reveals that he had a sidekick (presumably his first) 9 years prior. Now, our next few pieces of intel must be inferred from things we know about the show. By looking at the ages of all Ray’s featured sidekicks, it is inferred that Drex would also be a teenager at the time of working with Ray. When asked about Drex, Ray says that they only worked together for some months. Though he does not specify, he adds that they never fought crime together. 

–Now, my personal headcanon is that they were together for maybe 6ish months and that time was spent training (I believe it was so much training and so little trust that contributed to Drex turning on Ray) (I also believe that the reason Drex never got a hero name is because he never fought crime and therefore was never debuted as a sidekick, [like the Danger Force kids in S1E2 of Danger Force, Say My Name], as far as I’m aware it is never even known to the public that Captain Man had a sidekick before Kid Danger)– 

Another thing we know about Drex is that his time as a sidekick ended in a huge battle between him and Captain Man, one that, according to Ray, would have resulted in his death had he not been indestructible. So for the sake of that accuracy, I will put Drex on the older teenage side, farther into puberty and more grown into his physique. As such, my belief is that Drex joined Ray in at late 16, turned 17 during their partnership, and was 17 when they fought. This is also a contributor to his story, as it is more likely for Drex to be tried as an adult in court, making it more reasonable for him to be sentenced life in prison (although I’m sure Swellview would not hesitate to incarcerate him no matter the age given their weird laws). 

Assuming Drex was 17 at the moment of incarceration, 9 years passing would make him 26 in Hour of Power, 28 in the Henry Danger finale, and 31 in season 3 of Danger force. (Each season seems to pass a year-ish, although season 5 of Henry Danger is an outlier given how many episodes it has, I will still count it as a year to save the headache.)

With Drex’s age out of the way, we can turn to the newest variable of our timeline: Buddy Fudgers, aka Li’l Dynomite. As far as I am aware there is no canon age for Li’l Dynomite mentioned anywhere in the show, however there is a point of interest that we can use. In the 2022 crossover between Danger Force and a number of other shows, Li’l Dynomite’s true identity is implied to be a character of the same actor named Fisher. This is later disproven, but the implication gives us the assumption that these characters are the same age. I chose to use this information rather than the actor’s age to fit in the story better (Danger Force characters are also younger than their actors). Fisher is 14 in the 2022 finale of Side Hustle, so we can assume that Li’l Dynomite would be the same age, making him 15 as of season 3. 

Doing the math, Drex was ~16 years old when Li’l Dynomite is born, meaning he was 15/16 when Li’l Dynomite is conceived. This could happen during or around the time of his partnership with Ray, and it is safe to assume so far that he did not know about this child at least until after he was sent to prison. 

I have included a visual timeline if this was too hard to follow, along with some other character’s ages that coincide. Feel free to use this information as you please, just try not to discredit the work and research it took to work it all out on paper 😭

If you got this far, here is a sketch I did of sidekick Drex as a treat!

#henry danger #danger force #ray manchester #drex stinklebaum #drex #lil dynomite #i spent so long on this sob #btw I wrote that Drex meets Ray at 16 but it’s my head canon that Drex knew him before he became his sidekick #so they didn’t actually meet there it’s just when they started working together #I believe that Drex already knew Ray when he met Credenza because I like to think he modeled himself after Ray #dangerverse #mine art

[clara-aeri]

Love how you handled the different Zeldas in your Advent fic. And how you write Link in Rootsverse, it's exactly how I see him in this era. Do you have any thoughts about the other Links in other games? How they compare/contrast with botw/totk's Link?

Oh thank you!! 😊 Glad to hear that!!!

Boy do I have thoughts.

I guess- I should say that the way I wrote Link in Roots is definitely not how I’d imagine him to be in cannon. If only because I feel Nintendo values the self-insert aspect of the Zelda games too much to let the character stray very far from the “stoic hero” archetype. If anything, the Link I wrote in Undertow is the most similar to how I’d imagine his canon self to be- largely just due to how he doesn’t outright reject his responsibilities (pre calamity at least. I do subscribe to the idea that he’s much louder and funnier after losing his memories).

Agh- but anyway lol see my rambling below.

Starting with Ocarina of Time (OoT), that version of Link is definitely sadder than the others. He had a pretty good childhood, but his adult life fell apart in much more profound ways than the others’. He’d be as quiet as pre calamity botw Link. There might be a hint of the mischievous fairy kid still left in him, but very little. Lots of longing and disillusioned feelings that would maybe be best replicated in pre calamity Botw Link, yeah?

As for Twilight Princess (TP) Link, he’s a country guy 110%. I imagine he’d be too restless to go back to farming though- not after the world got so big. I assume he’d be a great guy to talk to, best with kids/animals, probably one of the most well adjusted after all his trials and a good pen pal to Zelda. He wouldn’t be as lively after losing Midna, definitely, but he’s doing leagues better than OoT Link. Probably has a much more dry, sarcastic sense of humor than Botw Link’s “He has a dumb belly” absurdist comedy.

Wind Waker (WW) Link- at a glance I’d almost say he’d get along with Botw Link, but after more thought I think WW Link would despise him. Botw Link would willingly eat rocks or stuff himself in an explosive barrel for jokes, but WW Link would either have to be tricked or forced into it. He seems… high anxiety. But also irritable. He has the most common sense out of all the Links and that is probably exactly what his problem is. I don’t know why, but I get the feeling that most animals would attack WW Link on sight because of his constant bad, exasperated energy.

As for Skyward Sword— lol I think he’s so funny. I think growing up with Zelda “the Goddess turned teenage girl” would have had an impact on him. By far he is the most stable, most extroverted version of Link, but I think there’s something about him that would make him unknowable. He’s so relaxed but upbeat at the same time, seems like he’s always up to something but nobody ever knows what since he’s always asleep. He doesn’t have a thought in his head but he’s so perceptive too just- he’s just odd. But cool. Botw Link’s extreme stoicism pre calamity and crazy behavior post calamity would both stand out a lot next to SS Link. Yet his relationship with Botw Zelda most closely resembles SS Link’s with his own.

I’m not very familiar with the other 3DS Links etc so I can’t say much about them. These are also the vibes I get from how I remember all these Links after 10 years of not playing their games, so I could be wrong in how I’ve described them for sure.

Lol either way thank you for asking! I was a fun question to think about! It makes me want to write a reverse Advent featuring all of them ugh 😭😂

#claraaeri #botw fanfiction #anon asks #ao3fic #the legend of zelda #botw #zelink #totk #twilight princess #ocarina of time #wind waker #skyward sword

[gillianthecat]

The New Employee - episode 5

Gah this EPISODE!! 🥰😍🥰 Here are my thoughts during and after watching:

Excellent, we're getting right into the mystery of the terrifying pen.

Omg the second hand embarrassment in this college flashback makes me curl up and hide. Also, I assume it's less obvious in Korean that Seung Hyun thought they were talking about a gift for him, because otherwise Yoo Seong is being deliberately cruel, not just self-centered and obvious, and I don't think he's supposed to be.

This is a legit explanation for why Seung Hyun freaked out though. I also would runaway if I saw something that was both evidence that my new person once dated my toxic crush and a reminder of one of my saddest and most embarrassing memories.

Lee Beom with the wise advice once again! And it sounds like Seong Hyun isn't mad at Jong Chan for this, just freaked out and stuck about how to talk about it.

These two have really good friendship chemistry. Which actors don't always manage to make clearly distinct from romantic chemistry, but these two do.

Oh Jong Chan. I mean I get it. Everyone is freaking out here. But Seong Hyun is trying to be open and vulnerable with you. You don't need to get defensive and go on the attack now.

Something about this fight and break up feels very adult to me. I mean, Jong Chan is being immature and leaping to conclusions and breaking up because he doesn’t understand Seung Hyun and he’s scared to try. But it feels like adult immaturity somehow, rather than youngness.

Oh god, Seung Hyun is having the worst week. All this heartache from the past pops up out of nowhere, your boss dumps you just as your trying to do the adult thing and talk about it, and then on top of it you keep fucking up at work and everyone is getting on your case about it. Including your he’s-not-actually-your-ex-because-he-ended-things-before-it-even-got-to-that-point. Oh man, I ache for him.

Jong Chan is in pain too, and I sympathize with him having spent the last day confused about the sudden withdrawal of the man he’s falling for, right after sleeping together for the first time. And when he finally explains why, it makes it sound like he’s still hung up on someone else. But I’m also mad at Jong Chan for not even trying to listen. Probably because it strikes a nerve—memories of trying to explain my complicated emotions to various ex-boyfriends and them freaking out about it, not listening to what I was actually saying and instead making up a story in their head about what my emotions were based on what scared them the most. Which was very frustrating.

And at first I was surprised that Jong Chan went there so quickly. I had expected more understanding from him, more willingness to work. But then his monologue to his cat made sense of it for me: "I don’t like emotional quarrels." Look, I’m not sure what of this the show is putting in there intentionally, and what is me making up complexity for a stock "cold boss seme" archetype, but I think this might be the first time when he’s faced with the complexity of who Seung Hyun actually is, rather than the sweet new kid who hero-worships him.

And although Jong Chan has been in many relationships, I wouldn’t be surprised if he never actually put the work into them, but rather ended things, or more likely retreated into his career when the emotions got hard and his boyfriends wanted things from him. That memory scene in the previous episode made it sound like non of his exes had understood his values and his love of his job, and maybe that’s all it is, but his line about hating quarreling makes me think there is more to it than that, that he in fact hasn't cared enough about anyone to actually face scary emotions. Except that now he does with Seung Hyun.

Anyway, I did like his desperately stoic face whenever he had to see or hear about or talk to Seung Hyun. And the way he grabbed his wrist and positively yanked him into the elevator to finally confront him in the storage closet. (It's not making out in a supply closet, but I'm still happy about it. Although it does make the camera angles weird and distorts their faces.) And the way he kept drinking more and more at the work party while his eyes kept tracking Seung Hyun frantically trying to be a good intern and take care of all his seniors. It seems very reminiscent of Japanese BL, although maybe its just that that's where most of the office romances I've seen are from.

And then! Jong Chan apparently couldn't stand it anymore and then goes after him. I loved his line (I'm paraphrasing) "I don't understand your feelings, and I know I'm supposed to or supposed to lie and say I do, but I just don't. But I want to." It's just so... gah! This was the moment (and their subsequent hug and giddy walk back to the work party) that turned this episode from 'some nice stuff happening' to 🥰😍! for me. It felt so honest and vulnerable and true to the character. He doesn't understand the complexity of people's emotions. But Seung Hyun makes him want to understand him.

It was also this line that made me willing to handwave the rest of the conversations they need to be having. Yes, yes, there are only eight short episodes, so we need to wrap everything up soon. But I believe, behind the scenes, they are talking about the hard stuff. Jong Chan is someone who if he says he's going to do something he does it. And I think he does want to see Seung Hyun for who he actually is.

I also have thoughts about seme/uke dynamics in this show and Seung Hyun's... passivity? Or not that exactly, but his very uke role of following Jong Chan's lead and not initiating much of anything, be it kisses, romantic gestures or difficult conversations, himself. But a) I'm not exactly sure what my thoughts are yet, and b) this is already very long and I should get on with my day.

Although this conversation gave me some insight into what was going on--the show's very traditional manga roots nestled alongside the grown-up queer story the director wants to tell, create some oddities like this, where despite his insecurities and inexperience, Seung Hyun doesn't seem like he'd be as passive as he is, but the structure of the story kind of requires him to be, so there is some dissonance there. And it also creates this thing were I'm not sure if I'm reading too much complexity into the characters and their backstories, or if it's really there.

But anyway. Their giddiness and joy at un-breaking up! Seung Hyun can't stop smiling! The relief on Jong Chan's face. That hug, they way they held each other so tightly. Their silly little argument over carrying the bags and who would enter first. 🥰

And the queerness of this show, in showing both the fun things and the glimpses of being queer in a homophobic world. The way they spring apart from their embrace when someone walks by, and their relief when he reassures them with a "cute." And the whole extremely queer you-used-to-be-in-unrequited-love-with-my-ex-boyfriend.

(Speaking of the ex-boyfriend, I still want to know more about Yoo Seong. Including who he's in love with. OOOOOHHH. I just had a thought. Second season about him? Is that what they're setting us up for with all these dropped hints?!? That would make me so happy. I don't know anything about the source material, so I don't know if this is a realistic hope or just a daydream. But if this was an English language romance novel, it absolutely would be setting us up for a second Yoo Seong book. The ridiculously attractive mysterious "rake" who hurts both of the main characters, sweeping through their lives seemingly unaware. Who seems to have fallen for some unknown person. Come on producers, give it to us.)

Ok, back to our main couple. The sweetness of their texting from opposite sides of the corporate sleepover! Their promises to communicate and stick around when things got hard. Jong Chan sneaking over just to sit next to Seung Hyun as he falls asleep. And this is all the sweeter for me, because I feel like their giddy happiness means something now.

#the new employee #the new employee the series #gillianthecat reacts to bl #tne ep 5 #seme/uke dynamics #kind of like liveblogging #my ramblings #it was interesting watching this right after candy color paradox #two versions of a love confession/conversation re jealousy/clinging hug on the street at night after running away from a restaurant #also i finally figured out that tumblr treats all the bullet points as one giant paragraph #which is why it keeps telling me about the character limit for a 'block' #i assumed each bullet point was it's own paragraph and was confused #and then of course when i reopen to edit it converts my TWO shorter blocks of bullet points back into ONE overlong one. oh tumblr.

[wildfluffyappeared]

I feel like the Omori fandom deeply misunderstands Hero and Kel’s characters, either that or idk maybe I misunderstand them too much but

Seeing so much of the fandom assume that post-true ending, Hero would hate Sunny and Basil for what happened to Mari, just doesn’t feel in character for him at all. I think that Hero would have an instinctual reaction of anger, sure. But I also think that his maturity and conscience as an adult would give him some clarity on the matter. He spent a lot of time processing Mari’s death. He loved her in a different way than any of the others did, but he also arguably processed his feelings more so than anyone else, even if he fell into deep depression for a while. I fully believe that a part of him wouldn’t be able to look at them the same, at least for a while. And part of him would feel this twisted sense of relief, at finally knowing once and for all that regardless of anything else, Mari’s death wasn’t his fault. But I think overall, he would have the maturity and strength of mind to tell Sunny that it wasn’t his fault, that they were kids, that this could’ve happened to anyone and that he’s so sorry that it happened to him. And I also think that while Hero would feel a bit more harshly towards Basil, he would understand that Basil was a kid then too, and had a very juvenile and incorrect understanding of what had happened. I even think Hero would’ve considered the fact that Sunny’s story means Basil knew how to tie a noose when he was 12, and taken that into account; Basil obviously had some other intense fucked up trauma that caused his mind to operate in that way, and he couldn’t bring himself to blame the kid for that.

Kel though.

Throughout the entire game we never see Kel PROCESS ANYTHING. He endures so much shit from everyone. He takes shit from his parents, he describes remembering Hero scream at him for trying to help once upon a time. He takes shit from Aubrey and her gang just for trying to help Basil. But you never really see him express any emotion other than superficially, except for in the neutral endings where Basil commits self unalive. So. We don’t see Kel’s reactions in the good ending, when Basil TRIES to commit self unalive and seriously injures Sunny in the process. But I’d have to imagine it’s very similar to the neutral endings. Kel doesn’t take it well, and the dam of emotions breaks, all the pain over losing Mari, who was like a big sister to him, all the bullying from Aubrey and her gang, and now his two best friends being in the hospital after one of them tried to take himself out, and not knowing if either of them are going to be okay. Kel is swimming in a sea of repressed emotions when Sunny comes to come clean to everyone.

And so that, combined with the fact that. Kel hates selfishness more than anything else. He views Aubrey as selfish with what happens with Basil, and that’s why he got so mad at her for taking Basil’s photo album. I don’t think he’d hate Sunny. I’m pretty sure he’d at least have the presence of mind to realize that Sunny wasn’t in his right state of mind when Mari died. But I truly believe that Kel would DESPISE Basil for staging Mari’s death as a suicide to get Sunny out of trouble. He would despise Basil because Basil wasn’t as close to it, was in a much more focused state of mind, and decided to lie to everyone and hide the truth for four years, just out of his own selfish desire to keep Sunny around. Kel wouldn’t think about Basil being a kid, Kel wouldn’t care what state Basil’s mind was in, Kel would only care about the fact that Basil had cost him all of his friends for four years, and Kel would HATE him for it.

#Omori #omori spoilers #sunny omori #kel omori #hero omori #omori mari #omori basil

[ct-multifandom]

Miraculous season 5 predictions

In the earlier part of the season, Monarch will give out miraculous to akumas, but after failing a handful of times, he will begin giving his villainous cult-y adult friends miraculous without turning them into akuma villains

We will see the fire power-ups in Deflagration

Kitty Section will have at least one new song

With the whole music thing they’re teasing, I don’t think it’s a Christmas Special type episode. It could be a Frighteningale-but-cooler fight that involves music or it could be a regular musical performance by the characters or a guest star or something.

I assume they will retrieve the miraculous one by one and rebuild the hero team

But Zag says that s5 will focus more on the duo and that the other kids will help them even without powers. The two can coexist since some would get their powers back much later than others.

Ladybug will make her friends permanent holders

She will separate herself and Chat Noir from the rest of the team, by which I mean that instead of being the leader of a huge team that includes Chat, she will focus more on them as a duo and the rest of the team as a separate entity.

As permanent holders, Ladybug wouldn’t have to waste time getting everyone and getting the miraculous back afterwards, but they can also operate without her. Before, she was responsible for everyone, and they all did what she told them to, but now they could have more independence which would give them more strength as characters.

I’m thinking maybe she’ll get other people to lead the team in her absence and she’ll just supervise the whole plan so she can trust them while focusing on her partnership with Chat instead.

Gabriel’s final downfall will be directly caused by him losing his mind due to miraculous use.

If Felix will use the peacock miraculous at all, then it will only be one or two emergency occasions.

Reveal, duh

More like all the reveals

Hopes

I want to finally meet Shu-Yin

Ryuko full transformation

Considering they dropped the transformation phrases, I feel like we’re getting full transformations for the Penalteam heroes, plus Bunnyx I’d think

The Agreste kitchen will be so hype /srs

They’re promising new locations, so what famous landmarks haven’t we seen yet? I want to see Les Invalides, Montmartre, and Jardín du Luxembourg at some point.

It’d make sense for Monarch to target adults much more than kids this season, so I hope we get a good look into some of the grown up characters like what happened with Alec in Wishmaker.

This + I want to meet more of the kids’ families

Please give Ivan that good character development. Please. Give him the best you have.

Ramier uses the mouse miraculous

Speaking of Frighteningale earlier, I was actually thinking about how the music kid heroes would probably be much more effective against her than LB and CN were. I wanna see Pigella instantly KO her, but there are some old villains I’d like to see again in new contexts.

Dark Cupid would be cool with other heroes there too. I also feel like Zombizou is likely to make a comeback as a nice parallel to how far they’ve come from s2.

Wanna see a lot of new villains and way fewer repeats of villains that we’ve seen more than twice, though.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #ml season 5 #miraculous season 5 #ml predictions #miraculous predictions #miraculous ladybug tales of ladybug and chat noir #unpopular opinion I think monarch looks better than shadow moth #the tools look silly like he’s some traveling merchant in an RPG with a big hiker backpack #but the miraculous look oddly normal on him #the goat somehow looks more normal on his receding hairline than it did on Nate #speaking of which I actually like the hair better than the Egg #his eyes are neon purple but behind the horse it looks like he’s wearing bold popping eyeliner #I need to clear out my ml drafts a bit

[bloodcrcwned]

@rooftop-blues​  // four headcanons about our muse’s relationship ( + bonus )

ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ɴᴏɪʀ & ᴛʀʏsᴛᴀɴ

growing up under the watchful eye of vought, there was little exposure to the outside world. there were scientists and a revolving door of nannies before he was considered too dangerous. ( after six deaths in a week? it was a question of whether they got tired of cleaning up ash or dealing with trystan’s crying ) very few supes could safely be around the little boy and the risk far outweighed the reward. until he met Noir. a child’s curiosity outweighed the rational that had quite literally been beaten into him; DO NOT TOUCH. for whatever reason, his powers didn’t work on more than the man’s costume. it was his first experience holding someone’s hand.

trystan was never a physically gifted kid and grew up into a clumsy adult. when considered combat ready, vought made the mistake of pairing him with another supe. one handshake later found him back in his cell after watching the poor guy dissipate into a shamble of ash and crumpling spandex. remembering their first encounter, when he was allowed to use the training rooms it was Noir he reached for without hesitation. watching old security videos, he learned through trial and error how to not be afraid despite how things continued to fall apart in his hands purely by mimicking him, albeit poorly.

struggling with speech and crippling insecurity with a healthy dose of fear meant trystan rarely could speak without a stammer. most days he rarely spoke at all. learning to sneak through the halls meant he could wander and the staff learned early on not to engage unless with ranged lethal force. one wrong turn and he found his way to Noir’s room. they say repetition breeds contempt but in trystan’s case he developed a sense of trust. if his hero could speak without words, he could too. a moment of kindness stuck with him. Noir is the reason he knows ASL.

when his secondary powers manifested due to being injected with the parasitic material, vought fully expected finally to be rid of their failure. instead they had the perfect guinea pig. when One would whisper to him during the night, Noir was one of the few topics the creature rarely broached. why would He remind trystan of the one source of hope when One thrived off his fear? ironically enough the night of his escape, trystan was finally pushed to his breaking point by One mentioning that Noir would be disgusted by him seeing him like this. all that was left in the carnage was a shaky note left in the hall; i’m sorry. he still doesn’t know if Noir read it or even understood. it still haunts him. BONUS:

while on the run with the boys, trystan won’t ever admit that out of all the seven only Noir truly frightens him. but not for any reason the others might assume, no. he is frightened because out of all the supes alive? only Noir could convince him to go back to vought, to fight for them. in his mind it’s only a matter of time and pure stupid luck that has allowed him to be free for this long.

#// sorry this got long! hope it's alright! #take a breath & tell your story . headcanons #rooftop-blues #shadows & clockwork fill your veins . trystan

[lunaviathan]

Here’s the Hero Fi au mini fic! Quick context, right now Fi looks and essentially is hylian, you can see her design here, and Andymin is a hylian oc of my own making specifically for this au, who I’ll post drawings of. Eventually. Also @lu-four I assume you’ll want to see this

---

“Why are so many people wearing masks?”

“Oh, it’s just a kind of tradition thing, why?”

Fi hummed, “I’m curious, I’m not familiar with the practice. What do you mean ‘tradition’?”

Andy considered for a moment, he’d never met someone so incredibly intelligent that had so little knowledge about the world, it was a complete fifty fifty of what she already knew and what needed to be explained.

He was beginning to think her “not from around here” line meant she was from the moon instead of a different country.

It also didn’t help that Andymin didn’t know much about the history of masks either, but he could try.

“Well uh, -preface, I don’t actually know the history very well myself buuut- I think it has something to do with the first king? Something about him being big on wood carving and that somehow got into carving masks, it’s mostly for kids but adults wear ‘em too, I had a great uncle that wore this peach mask everywhere. I don’t think I saw his face even once.”

Fi hummed again, and turned to look at the people around the evening market more closely. Andy followed her gaze, seeing it catch on the few adults wearing masks, and a particularly bright peacock themed one on a kid a bit younger than Fi herself.

Fi tilted her head curiously, “Do the masks mean anything?”

Now this Andy did know, thankfully. “Sometimes yeah! Especially masks that become heirlooms, people say the older the mask the more ‘powerful’ whatever that means. And then there’s just general symbolism stuff, like owls with wisdom, green and courage ‘n so on.”

“That makes sense,” Fi nodded.

Andy just nodded back, nothing left to say for the moment.

Andy knew Fi was smart, she could probably think her way out of three different puzzles before Andy had gotten halfway through the first, but he also knew there were a lot of odd gaps in her knowledge. He knew she could work through these gaps more often than not, had seen her do it, but he also knew she was looking for someone, someone dangerous. He worried the moments she needed to think would take a moment too long.

But making sure she had just one less thing she had to figure out on her own made Andy feel better, if not a bit patronizing.

“But uh, people don’t just wear ‘em for the symbolism, sometimes wearing a mask just makes you feel a bit safer, or more yourself.”

Fi smiled a bit, a rare thing.

“That sounds nice.”

#btw Andymin and Fi's thing is protective big brother and very smart but in over her head little sister #anyway #Hero Fi au #HFAU Fi #HFAU Andymin #loz au #loz Fi #loz fic #fi loz #loz fanfic #Lunav writes #fi #and vaguely #loz ss #please send me asks about this I am Begging

[coredrill]

the government: no one under 21 is allowed to be a superhero! time to arrest all young heroes!

the young avengers, 22-24 years old:

#champions #young avengers #comic ages are whack so those are just a best guess #like america and eli are in / have been to college right? #and teddy & tommy & david have been to bars? #so i think it’s close enough sndndndjb #also been thinking about the issue a little more #and i’m a lil confused about the mentor thing? can an adult only have one mentee? #also most of the champs are legacy heroes so that shouldn’t be too hard for them #i’m assuming there are way more adult heroes than kid ones too #especially cause there’s So Many x-kids and i feel like they’re mostly gonna stay on krakoa sndndndb (except dust) #i’m excited to see how it plays out though! #back on my comics shitposting…feels good. feels organic #can’t wait to be let down <3 #f: marvel #marvel: comics #c: champions vol. 4 (2020) #t.txt

[dekalko-mania]

Danny Fenton is a prime example of an unreliable narrator/protagonist. Like for real, it’s crazy how much he sells himself short. He’ll say phrases such as “if I wasn’t a C student, I would’ve figured this out sooner,” “So much for the Fentons being a family of geniuses,” and make jabs at himself for not doing enough as a hero. Which is wild to hear when his every action contradicts those statements. 

Like I’m serious, actually paying attention to his fights and methods of overcoming adversity, it becomes pretty clear that he’s actually incredibly intelligent. He’s a quick thinker, resourceful, and honestly? Although he’s the good guy in the show, he really is quite good at manipulation and finding other’s weaknesses.

Examples:

He’s won plenty of fights where he didn’t even have access to his powers for extended periods (Maternal Instincts, Life Lessons, Pirate Radio, Micro Management, etc.)

Clever af plans (Maternal Instincts, One of a Kind, What You Want, Lucky in Love, Pirate Radio, etc)

He’s tricked foes into a friendly fire (Memory Blank, Million Dollar Ghost, Life Lessons, etc)

He’s been shown to still have fighting ability and weapons training as Fenton, also just catches on quick (Pirate Radio, Flirting With Distaster, My Brother’s Keeper, etc.)

There’s times where he seems to know his parents’ inventions even better than they do 

Whole reason I’m pointing this out is ‘cause a pretty good portion of fights aren’t won just because he’s powerful. Plenty of ghosts overpower him, especially in S01 and with mega ghosts like Pariah Dark. He wins consistently because of clever strategy, and quick thinking.

Danny is super smart and I feel like it’s very important to his character to state that. Says a lot about him and his upbringing if he perceives himself as anything less than that. 

Might be a stretch, but I have a theory that perhaps he thinks this way because he’s been taught to equate performance in school with intelligence. Jack and Maddie both come from heavily educational backgrounds, and they do sometimes place a lot of pressure on their children to live up to the expectations of being a Fenton. I.E. the whole speech his parents gave him about Fentons only getting A’s (B-’s if you’re Jack).

So when Danny’s grades plummet, even when there’s a perfectly valid reason for that happening, he immediately assumes he’s not intelligent anymore. I wonder if prior to becoming Phantom, he may even have been an A or B student considering even a C leaves him completely mortified. Lancer also reported that he hasn’t had any records of bad behavior before that.

It’s just a very problematic way to view intelligence, to simply equate it to one’s grades, because that’s certainly not the case. (Literally when he passes Lancer’s test, the first thing he says is, “I’m not an idiot!”) And I think his parents may have done him a huge disservice in that regard. There’s plenty of factors that would make someone struggle in school. Home life, accessibility to resources, stress, financial burdens, mental illness. Like, there’s A LOT. 

I even wonder if perhaps, along with struggling with his double life, Danny may have an undiagnosed mental disorder. There’s plenty about him that feels relatable in that regard, but that would be a post all on its own and some really great ones already exist here and here. We've already seen how horribly his parents react to signs of MI, it wouldn't surprise me if they overlooked that. I just think he’s really going through it, and could honestly use more responsible adult figures in his life. Someone who can help correct the way he thinks of himself, and who can give him the proper means of getting help and feeling comfortable to ask for it. We have Jazz, but she’s a kid way in over her head too who I feel may also benefit from talking to someone.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #its wild im analyzing a cartoon so much lmao #but i dunno theres a lot that can be gleaned from the show

[sukirichi]

— out of reach | gojo x reader

request: Girllllll I just read your jealous gojo fic and my heart went 📈📈📈📈💥💥💥 youre now one of my fav writers 🙏🧎‍♀️And the spicy parts 😫😫😫 💖 If your asks are still open, could I please request a fic where GOJO has a size kink 🥺🥺🥺 my 5’1 ass is obsessed with that shizzzz 

pov: you’re gojo’s childhood friend and roommate – which leads to utter chaos – or perhaps utter bliss?

warnings: size kink, lots of teasing, lots of cursing, dirty talk, choking (probably not in the way you think), body worship, lots of size difference scenes, slight manhandling, overstimulation, thigh fucking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl guys) + unedited fic :D

notes: idk what happened here LMAOOO but i loved writing this one because i’m short as hell too lol. thanks for this request anon, i hope you like it! <3

word count: 10.5k

masterlist ! 

If you’re going to be honest, having Gojo as a roommate is something completely unexpected.

Not only are you two from entirely different worlds – him as a jujutsu sorcerer and you as an average human who can’t see curses – but he’s also just someone who is entirely out of your league. He’s respected and looked up to in his field of work, while half of your co-workers don’t even know your name, much less notice you in function parties where you mostly just nibble on sushi before calling it a day and turning back home.

You and Gojo met in elementary school. You could tell from the way he’s surrounded by servants and stern looking adults, firm hands on his small shoulders, that he was different from everyone else.

Apparently, he comes from one of the three big clans in the jujutsu world or whatever. You honestly don’t care about any of that, because Gojo refuses to act maturely about his role in the clan. You still remember how quiet he was on the first day of school, never smiling and keeping to himself despite your persuasion to eat lunch with him or play with him after school in the courtyard.

You miss that Gojo Satoru – the quiet, serious kid who was far too gentle in his actions yet firm in his words and beliefs. When you were still a little girl, you admired how he seemed older than his age, a wistful look in those azure blue eyes of his that you’ve always loved.

To you, Gojo Satoru was your hero. You’ve always been one of the shortest kids in class, and it didn’t help that you really loved pigtails all the way until middle school that made you an easy target from immature people who’s being hit way too fast by puberty and growing each passing day. You never minded your short stature because really, it’s just height, but you couldn’t ignore how your confidence dwindled each day when they called you several array of nicknames.

Too shy to fight back, you’d laugh it off or force a smile.

Gojo wasn’t having any of it. He’d break his silence and immediately pull you to his side (which only made things worse because Gojo was one of the tallest kids in class, further emphasizing how small you are right next to him) before threatening to smack the kids right in the face.

The threat should be enough to land him detention, but because he’s Gojo Satoru, the golden kid everyone loved, they took his word seriously.

At the age of eleven, you started seeing your best friend as your knight in shining armour. Gojo basked in this, growing protective and always glaring at whoever snickered when you walked past them. Sometimes he even bared his teeth to hiss at them, which was honestly so ridiculous now that you think about, though the message – the threat – always came across loud and clear.

So yeah, you love Gojo, you still do.

Years flew by and the two of you grew apart due to work and also as a part of growing up. You still kept in contact, messaging each other once a month to ask the other how they’re doing. His work kept him extremely busy though, and Gojo didn’t want you involved in the dangers of what he’s doing, so he makes sure to keep a safe distance.

Until six months ago, you hear a banging on your door. You’re just about ready to throw hands because your former roommate moved out to live with her stoner boyfriend, leaving you to shoulder all the bills and responsibilities of maintaining a two man apartment.

A sneer forms on your lips as you swing the door open, a scowl already on your face. You assumed it was your roommate who returned to get the pair of lace panties they left in their room, but instead, your childhood friend stands before you, taller (seriously, how has he not stopped growing?) and definitely a lot hotter than the last time you saw him.

One thing leads to another, and now it feels like there was never such distance between the two of you with how easily you both fell back into a comfortable – yet chaotic – rhythm and routine of being each other’s roommate.

Not that you mind, of course. Gojo’s definitely changed a lot from when you were kids. He’s no longer that stiff or sensitive when it comes to others. In fact, it seems like he loosens up a lot more with age, because you can barely recognize the man living under the same roof with you now.

For one thing, Gojo is loud. Like really talkative, won’t shut the fuck up and speaks like he’s in a screaming contest with someone. It doesn’t matter if you’re taking an important phone call or sleepwalking at three in the morning to pee, Gojo is always creating some sort of ruckus.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you loved it. You love him.

He’s definitely a lot more enthusiastic and fun to be with now that both of you have grown up, or in Gojo’s case, simply aged. His maturity reversed backwards because it feels like you’re taking care of a little kid.

Not only does his body clock is practically non-existent, he’s also horrible when it comes to taking care of himself and being punctual with work.

Fortunately for him, you love him, and you both leave for work at the same time. You always wake up earlier to prepare breakfast so you’d both have energy to start the day – although you highly doubt there’s really anything that depletes his endless source of one.

Sleepily walking through the kitchen with your fist rubbing at your eyes, you rummage through the refrigerator for some eggs when you realize there’s none.

Huh, you think to yourself, scratching your scalp. You’re sure that Gojo went grocery shopping last week since it’s his chore to do the outside stuff like buying groceries and throwing thrash, so where did it go?

You open shelf by shelf, checking each corner and shoving cans aside to look for the tray. With a glare, you stand on your tiptoes to pull the pantry open, only to have your mouth fall aghast because it’s all there – right at the back where you can’t reach it!

Fucking Satoru, you grit your teeth while heaving your body up onto the counter. It’s a struggle because not only are your muscles still half asleep, but because the shelf is right in your face, and if you’re not careful enough, you could hit it right with your face and fall over. Of fucking course you know Satoru did this to make fun of you – and now you retract your statement over your best friend.

It’s all a lie.

He’s a pain in the ass. Why do you even bother cooking for him and letting him live literally just a room away when you know he won’t stop pulling shit like this?

Because, the nagging voice in your head tries to mock, he’s your best friend and you can’t really say no to him. This makes you huff as you carefully pull the tray towards you, hooking two fingers at the edge while your other palm grips at the end of the counter for support. No thanks to your short limbs, you’re practically hogging the shelf by now in an attempt to reach it. You look ridiculous, that’s for sure, and you make a mental note to keep Satoru’s windows open tonight so he freezes to death –

“Aw, cupcake,” a sing-song voice emerges from the other side of the room. “You look so adorable. You should’ve woke me up if you need my help.”

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you flip him off. The man only laughs, the rambunctious sound echoing off the walls. It’s way too early in the morning and he’s already so damn loud; something builds up at the back of your head out of frustration already. His grin only gets wider when you finally got the eggs and clutch it your chest, setting it down on the counter while wiping your sweat away from your face. “Freeloader,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring him when he happily skips over to you.

“Ouch,” he places a palm over his chest, although you both know he’s never really affected by anything. “So what’s for breakfast today? You?”

“You know, I can kick you out anytime I want. I’m being extremely nice even going as far to cook you breakfast before you leave for work, so don’t test my patience.”

“Exactly, my best friend is so kind,” Satoru grows the audacity to rest his arm on your head. This triggers a reflexive response from you; shoulders tensing up and hands curling into fists beside you. “I would totally date her if she wasn’t such a temperamental little devil,” you nearly stab him with a fork with his statement, which he thinks he’s being so sly for but you heard it, and you’re most definitely not pleased with it. “Okay, I’m kidding! I’m going to go shower now!”

You roll your eyes at him and heat the pan over with some oil, muttering under your breath that you’re really going to kick him out soon. As if things couldn’t get worse – as if Satoru couldn’t get any worse – he smacks your backside in the process before darting to the showers.

“Gojo Satoru!”

“Morning, best friend, love ya!”

You were right. He is a pain in the ass.

“You don’t always have to walk me to work.”

“I know.”

“So why’re you still here? I’m not a little kid anymore,” Contrary to your words, you stick closer to Satoru when the morning rush of workers and students begin to crowd the streets. Your best friend notices this with a small smile, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Don’t even try, Satoru.”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“I know that look on your face,” you fiddle with the buttons of your uniform, sighing when Satoru follows you inside the bus after tapping your phone for two seats. It’s not a surprise to you anymore that most of your expenses are spent by him, for him, and he lazily sprawls his long limbs across the seat before you pulling you down right next to him.

As much as you hate this man, especially because he smirks at the attention he’s receiving from women – even men – in the bus, you have to admit he’s warm and smells damn good. You bite the inside of your cheeks, looking around in slight self-consciousness before inching a little closer, just to feel his warmth. He’s comforting – irrationally so – so you set your bag between the both of you to keep your sanity. “If you keep doing this, Principal Yaga might fire your ass because you’re never on time.”

“Trust me, cupcake, he won’t. I’m too valuable for that.”

How you saw that coming – you can’t tell anymore. The bus ride is relatively quiet and eventless, with you dozing off every now and then because you’re never a morning person. Thankfully, Satoru is more respectful this time around, lolling your head until it drops to his shoulder. After that, he snakes his arm around your waist before resting it on your thigh as a way to say you don’t have to head bang every damn second and just sleep.

On any other occasion, you would’ve hated it. You always look so small whenever you’re in Satoru’s presence. It doesn’t help that he’s long and lanky, either, his slender fingers effortlessly caressing your thigh while almost your entire body is flushed next to him. But right now, he’s too warm, too soft, and you’re too tired that for just a little bit, you allow yourself to relax.

A beeping wakes you up a moment later. Opening your eyes, you push yourself off Satoru when you see an old lady reaching for the handles. No one gave up their seats for her even as the bus driver asked her to find a seat lest she’d fall.

“Grandma, here, take my seat—” You’re about to stand up and offer it to her when Satoru tugs you by the wrist. Because of your small, wobbly composure, pulling you to him takes little to no effort. You end up on his lap, sitting on him as if you’re nothing but a small, dainty schoolbag. Satoru is clearly enjoying this because you feel him breathily laugh on the back of your neck, charming – annoyingly so – as he gestures to the now empty spot beside him.

“It’s no worries, Grandma. She’ll be fine,” he gestures to you, patting your head like you’re some puppy. “Please, take a seat. The bus is already moving.”

“Satoru, get off me,” You wriggle yourself from his hold, which only ends up in wasted effort because this big oaf doesn’t even budge. He even bounces you on one of his thighs, and you dig your nails into his arms as a silent plead for him to stop. He ignores this, ignores your small whines and the apparent embarrassment that has you debating whether to punch him or hide yourself in the safety of his uniform.

“She’s a feisty little one, isn’t she?”

The old lady watches the two of you banter, giggling behind her wrinkled hands. “You’re an adorable couple.”

“I think so too!”

“You’re so going to pay for this, Satoru,” you grumble, face planted onto your palms. This is it – the worst day of your life. It’s even worse because despite your protests, you have to admit his lap is actually comfortable. You’ve already known this before after countless times of cuddling with Satoru during movie nights, but its different when you’re both out in public. It feels...oddly intimate and maybe even romantic when he rubs soothing circles at your back, almost as if apologizing for this event. Most of all, you just hate the way something pools beneath your stomach at having him so close to you like this. “This is so embarrassing. I’m practically crushing you with my weight.”

“Please, cupcake, you barely weigh anything. I could easily lift you off with just my finger,” when you elbow him in the chest, Satoru only laughs, raising both hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing.”

You give up. No one seems to be paying much attention to any of you anyway, so you sigh, letting yourself hide in the crook of his neck as you watch the city pass through the windows. Your body moves as his chest rises and falls from his breathing, the movement oddly comforting. It’s embarrassing – it really is – but at least the grandma was comfortable until Satoru drops you off near your building.

“You don’t have to walk me all the way there.”

“Why not? You don’t want people to see us together or something?”

“No,” you stare at him from the corner of your eye. It’s no secret Satoru is attractive. This bastard knows it too, judging from the way he confidently and arrogantly swaggers next to you, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walked with no care in the world. “My co-workers keep asking me for your number every time I tell them we’re not dating. It’s getting annoying at this point how they go Satoru this and Satoru that.”

“Am I hearing it right? Is cupcake jealous?”

“I’m not jealous, I’m disgusted,” you correct, “They don’t know how much of a pain you are to have around. They’re so focused with your looks that they completely overlook the fact you can’t even wash your dirty underwear!”

Satoru frowns at this, pointing his finger to you as if you’ve accused him of a huge crime. “Hey, I wash my underwear.”

“Yeah and last time you did, you mixed it with whites! My work uniform turned a stupid shade of blue! Now I can’t picture the colour of your boxers out of my head and it’s giving me a headache!”

“Wow, Y/N,” the smirk on his face and the sudden drop of nicknames lets you know you’ve said something wrong. Even behind his blindfold, you could tell his eyes are just sparkling with amusement. He’s enjoying this way too much. “I never thought you’d ever picture my boxers. I mean, I don’t mind showing it to you if you ask nicely—”

“Ugh, you’re so hopeless. I’m going to work.”

Gojo laughs when you jog away from him. He catches up with you in a matter of seconds, only having to take a few steps forward before he’s right beside you again. You’re unsure if you should be annoyed it’s so easy for him to always be right next to you, and how he almost always is right next to you while you prefer running away. It muddles with your heart and mind so much you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to be swayed by the sickeningly sweet sound of his laughter. “I can’t pick you up later, okay? I might work overtime!” (that’s a lie since Gojo prefers shopping and sightseeing)

Both of you know that’s a lie. Gojo never works overtime. He’s going to work for a few hours and so and call playing around with his students as “on-hand learning” before he goes shopping for stupid souvenirs and wild-flavoured mochis, then end his day by sightseeing and coming back home.

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you mumble, waving goodbye to him as the office doors close. Slowly, Satoru’s grin and enthusiastic farewell fades into view until nothing but the pale, silver walls of your office greets you.

Funny how you claim to hate this man so much, yet the moment he’s out of sight, everything becomes dull and pointless.

It’s an absolutely shitty day. Your equally shitty boss blames you for something you didn’t even do, all because his incompetent secretary – who you’re sure he’s sleeping with – lost this month’s report and claimed she handed it to you last week when you’re not involved in that kind of work. Logic doesn’t come by them because your boss publicly humiliates and scolds you, calling you all kinds of names until tears are streaming down your face.

You slam the door shut the moment you get home, kicking your shoes off as you head straight to your room. You don’t bother taking your makeup off anymore as you change into a loose shirt and floral cotton shirts, padding to the kitchen after seeing Satoru is well nestled into the couch.

At least someone’s had a good day.

Seeing as the sink is empty, he probably hasn’t eaten dinner. This makes you sigh, because when will he ever learn to look after himself? He’s literally like a child.

Satoru pauses whatever he’s watching before he hovers over you, head tilted to the side as he gazes at you with curiosity. You ignore him and begin to set down some bowls and chopsticks for dinner, all the while Satoru is studying every inch of your tightly pulled face. “Bad day?” he concludes.

“Hmm.”

“Bad day it is then,” he nods to himself. “I can cook dinner, if you want.”

“And have you burn my apartment? No thanks,” you scoff, pushing him aside to retrieve the pans when you see that he’s placed them above again, even after you’ve reminded countless times to just leave it near the holders in the sink. “Ugh, why do you keep putting the pans in this shelf? You know I can’t reach this. I’ve had enough with you pulling pranks on me, and don’t think I’ve forgotten you placed my shampoo above the shower head today, you idiot,” you snarl and hop over the counter again to get the pans, trying your best to fight back the tears that are threatening to fall. “You’re really bothersome, you know that?”

“Then why don’t you kick me out?” he challenges, completely oblivious to how you’re struggling – both physically and emotionally. “You always complain about me being a nuisance here, but you’re not really doing anything to keep me out.”

“Because where else would you go?”

“Technically, I have a room back at the Institute.”

“Yeah, but because you’re so stupid and reckless that you got kicked out of your own home,” you spat out, and you watch as Satoru raises a brow at your statement. Banter is common between the both of you, but something about the intensity of your gaze lets him know you’re serious this time around. “I don’t even know how Yuuji puts up with you. That poor Megumi is right when he says you’re insufferable. You’re good for nothing!”

Satoru scoffs, “Fine, if you hate me that much, why didn’t you just say so earlier? I could easily pack my bags and go since I’m just making everything harder—” Satoru doesn’t get to finish what he’s saying when your hand over the counter that acts as support slips under you, and you fall, legs bent awkwardly while you scream, preparing yourself for the impact. The pan is long forgotten, your only thought was oh my god, so this is how I die.

But it never came, and you keep your eyes shut tight even as warm hands cup your ass. Satoru is breathing hard under you. Finally gaining the courage to crack an eye open, your breath halts when you see that he’s sitting on the floor, with you safely nestled between him.

Satoru has always had pretty eyes, but it’s rare he takes off his blindfold off even when he’s home. This is one of those rare occurrences that he seems like a normal human, dressed in a gray sweatshirt that hands low from his collarbones and magnetic blue eyes staring right back at you. His touch is gentle, almost as if he’s afraid to hurt you, and his voice that is usually loud and teasing comes out breathy and hesitant.

“Are you okay?”

Your gaze drops down to his lips. He’s close, so close, that if you just lean a little closer you could – you snap out of your daze. “Get off me.”

“Cupcake, you’re the one who’s on top of me,” his voice falls an octave lower, eyes flitting down to your clothing – or rather the lack of it – before Satoru takes a deep breath. “Did you really have to wear that?”

“I have the right to wear whatever I want in the comfort of my own home.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he raised a brow, this time completely in control of himself as he gazes back up at you with a burning gaze. You see nothing but the way one corner of his lips tilt up, almost teasing, and he looks so much like a shit-eater that you feel heat crawl down your spine.

You push yourself off him but your bent foot behind you slips, and you fall forward with your hands clutching his strong shoulders. Satoru catches your leg behind you, drags it forward until your knee is pressed in between one of your warmth, very much still enjoying the way you wriggle away from his hold. He knows his effect on you – but you deny this wholeheartedly.

“Careful, cupcake. This isn’t a slip and slide.”

“I hate you so much,” you bare your teeth at him, slapping his chest until he finally lets go of you. Turning your back to him, you pick up the pan and begin preparing your dinner, muttering curses under your breath as you heat up the stove. “I’m kicking you out tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“Eat your damn dinner first.”

Dinner after that is awkward. Although Gojo is someone who can wolf down his meal in three seconds, he takes his time in eating to start conversation with you. Sometimes he asks decent questions like how your day was or he’d talk about something stupid, but he’s quiet the whole time. He even volunteers to do the dishes before retreating to his room, coating the house in silence.

It almost feels like you’re all alone over again.

You’ve gotten so used to him being an utter mess everywhere that when he’s not trying to piss you off and actually giving you the much needed peace, you begin to hate it. Memories of the rude things you’ve said to him a while ago play and in your head, and you bang your head against the wall repeatedly.

How are you supposed to apologize to Satoru now?

The answer doesn’t come until you stare at your walls, wide awake at midnight. The house is still eerily silent and you don’t stop shuffling around your bed in discomfort. Many times, you wished that Satoru would shut up and leave you alone, but now that he’s actually done that, it feels weird. Uncomfortable. It feels wrong.

With a grunt, you kick off the sheets and carefully tread to his room, knocking lightly in case he’s already sleeping. “Satoru?” you call out, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Are you awake?”

You’ve seen Satoru angry as kids before, but what would he be like now? Would he still want to be your friend? Would he still annoy you by hiding your things somewhere you can’t reach? Or would he be the who is now out of reach? If he leaves...who’s going to walk you to work? Who’s going to complain he doesn’t want to do groceries but buys you things you don’t ask for but want anyway? Who’s going to keep teasing the living daylights out of you if not him?

All these thoughts claw at the back of your mind until your bottom lip trembles. You hate how weak you feel; how you’re never careful with your words.

You never meant it when you said all that.

Your train of thought is cut off when the door swings open, revealing an equally tired-looking Satoru. At the sight of you peering up at him with glossy eyes, he pushes the door wider and steps closer to you, his large hands cupping your face as he leans down in worry. “Cupcake,” his brows pinch together, “Did something happen? Is something wrong?”

“I just wanted to apologize for everything I said,” you blurt out, “I was just tired from work and my boss was being shitty, so I wasn’t totally myself that time and I’m really sorry I took my anger out on you. I didn’t mean it when I said you’re insufferable and that I’m kicking you out so – yeah,” you breathe out, trailing your gaze downwards to stare at your feet instead. It’s difficult to look him in the eye right now. When you finally gain courage to speak again, it barely comes out as a whimper, your hands delicately tugging at his shirt. “Please stay. I like having my best friend around here.”

Satoru doesn’t answer.

You’re about to look up at him just in case you’ve said something wrong, or worse, he refuses to forgive you, but then – “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t kick me out. You’re too much of a darling to say no to me.”

Sigh. Satoru laughs when he sees your shoulders deflate, absolutely shattered in exhaustion. Hiding your smile to now show him you’re relieved, you punch his chest that really feels like a fly had accidentally flew into him. “Way to ruin the mood, Satoru. And here I thought I could have a serious conversation with you for once.”

“Apology accepted,” he beams, tilting your chin upwards so you could look at him. Even in the darkness of his room, his eyes glow, leaving you hypnotized in its beauty. “Plus, I think I’m the one who should apologize. You’re right; I haven’t been the best roommate and I am a freeloader,” he scratches the side of his head in thought. “But I do buy you food all the time though.”

“Yeah, with my money,” you counter, but you don’t really care anymore at this point. You’re beyond elated you’re both fine now, and you shyly gesture to his big, warm bed that suddenly looks so comfortable. “Can I stay here for tonight?”

“You want Satoru’s bear hug?”

“Yes, I do.” There’s no hesitation in your words and you don’t complain anymore when he easily picks you up like a ragdoll using only one arm. He’s surprisingly gentle when he places you both down on the bed, sheets warm and soft as it blankets over you.

It would be perfect – except it’s so damn awkward.

Gojo’s long limbs are everywhere. Your face is pressed into his chest, both your legs tangled together. His arm is sprawled over the curve of your hip, his hand nearly grazing your ass that’s barely covered by the thin material of your shorts, but if he shifts, he’ll end up cupping the back of your thighs which is equally uncomfortable.

He seems to be stuck in the same position because you’re so small, and your knees are grazing his groin. Had he known you’re going to sleep with him, he would’ve worn underwear or even boxers under his sweatpants.

He’s never told you before, but he prefers to sleep in the nude. Satoru only picked up the nearest pair of pants when he heard you knock, and even then, he didn’t have the time to wear a shirt.

Your breath is hot on his skin and he’s so sensitive and aware of all your movements. Satoru clears his throat awkwardly, shifting until his arm lightly holds your back instead, but then he pulls away as if he’s touched fire when he’d unknowingly fiddled with your bra clasp instead. It’s so painfully awkward that Satoru chuckles above you, while you scrunch your nose, silently praying to the heavens above that he won’t hear how loud your heart is beating right now.

“Why is it so hot in your own room?”

“Maybe it’s time you get me an AC.”

“You wish, Satoru,” you mumble beneath him, making yourself as comfortable as you can with your cheek resting on his bicep. It’s not the softest pillow considering he’s pretty muscular, but he’s warm and smells like mint spice nevertheless. “You’re really not going to put on a shirt?”

Satoru sighs, a long and loud one that is extended for dramatic purposes. Suddenly, he pushes your knee off of him, grimacing and thanking the darkness that you can’t see how much he’s struggling right now. “Cupcake, this is hard for me as much as it is for you. You’re barely wearing anything.”

“Since when have you cared about what I wear?”

“I’m a man, Y/N,” is what he reasons with, “You’re lucky it’s me. Had it been someone else and you crawled into their bed wearing these—” Satoru pinches the waistband of your shorts, and you squeal in protest, only making him laugh afterwards before he lets it go and the material snaps back at your skin, “—poor excuse of what you call shorts, I can’t guarantee they’ll give you a peaceful night.”

You know exactly what he’s trying to hint at. Still, it’s hard to believe that Satoru is capable of seeing you that way.

It’s not that you feel you’re unattractive. You know you’re pretty and have been out on many dates, but it’s easy to feel that you’re not sexy when you have the height of a thirteen year old and you’ve been constantly chastised about it.

Satoru’s not-compliment compliment has your heart skipping a beat, and you scoff in response. “Shut up,” you warn lamely, “I want to sleep.”

“Then let’s sleep, cupcake.” You don’t know if it’s because you’re utterly exhausted that you doze off seconds later or if Satoru’s words just held power in them, but soon all thoughts of anything unwanted drifts out the window, his arms keeping you close, completely safe and sound until the worst nightmares couldn’t even come close.

Hot. It’s extremely hot.

You crack an eye open to try and find the source of this uncomfortable heat, but you freeze when you realize you can’t feel your muscles from the chin down. Panic rises in your throat once you see the current predicament you’re in, and a scream rips through your throat so loud that the birds outside scurry away in a flurry.

You’re wrapped in Satoru’s blanket and comforter, rendering you unable to move because of how he’d treated you like a burrito wrap. Even your toes are captured inside this hell, and only your head is able to wriggle side to side.

“Satoru!”

The culprit comes out of the shower a split second later, his hair dripping wet and only a towel hanging low from his lips. If you weren’t so hell-bent on killing him, you would’ve been speechless at the way water drips from his hair down to the curves of his abs, going down down down into a place only your darkest imaginations could take you.

Satoru bends over in laughter as he whips out his phone, jumping from angle to angle and side to side to take photos of you. “Fuck,” he howls, slapping his thigh while you snarl in an attempt to break free. “You’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be.”

“Satoru! Get me out of here!”

“No, this is way too gold. I’m sending these to my students.”

“Satoru, I’m serious!” The devil incarnate himself falls deaf to your please.

Maybe it’s because the violent intent has coursed through your veins so strongly that a surge of energy and strength overcomes you, and soon, you’ve rolled out of the blanket. The fresh air nipping at your heated skin is most welcomed, but right now, you had a mission to fulfil: obliterate Gojo Satoru.

The platinum haired man is still laughing to himself, too distracted in scrolling through the best photos to send to his students that he doesn’t notice you escaping and zooming straight right at him.

The momentum is enough to catch him off guard until you end up on top of him, short arms clawing your way through to snatch his phone. Satoru yelps when his phone lands out into the living room and your hands come down to choke him. You don’t have plans to kill him, but you want to hurt him enough to remind him you’re not someone he can fuck with.

You’ve just about had enough of this man and you’re so sick of him!

Satoru yells out a “Hey!” when you let out a battle cry, using your legs to kick him back when he tries to sit up. Your plan backfires when your hands slip down his wet skin and you fall face forwards, hands barely touching the ground for support when your lips come crashing down on his.

He stills underneath you. It takes a moment for you to realize that holy shit, you’re kissing him and his lips are so soft that has you scrambling back, but Satoru doesn’t let you.

His large hand comes up at the back of your neck to pull you forward. The sudden movement makes you gasp, and Satoru slips his tongue inside when you do so. You no longer remember how you got here or try to make sense of what’s going on, because he feels so good, tastes so good that you bury your nails in his hair while he ravishes your mouth.

You’re so tiny that his hand cups your entire buttcheek almost possessively, a low growl emanating deep in his throat when your tongue eagerly intertwines with his. Satoru tastes like heaven and everything about the kiss is sloppy – tongue clashing with one another and teeth nibbling at the other’s lips. It’s clear both of you can’t get enough of one another as you moan in his mouth, shamelessly grinding on his crotch, suddenly thankful that you’re always wearing thin clothes when you feel him harden underneath you.

“Fuck, baby,” he pulls away to breathe, a string of saliva connecting the both of you. “Yeah, just like that,” There’s something empowering about the way he pants at your ministrations, especially when you roll your hips faster across his erection. “Keep going, baby, you’re doing – fuck – so well.”

You smirk at his praises, latching your teeth on his neck to suck marks on them. Satoru groans at the same time you muffle your moans through his skin, his hands sliding under your shirt to tug the cups of your bra down. You nearly lose it when he pinches your nipple, bolts of electricity running down your spine at the contact. A moan breaks through your lips just as you come right there and then, the wetness of your sudden orgasm barely hidden in your flimsy underwear.

“Feel good?” he teases and drags your shirt down to the other side, but the post-nut clarity hits. And when it does, it hits hard.

Fuck. You just came from Satoru’s simple touches, and he’s so unsatisfied, still painfully hard underneath you but nothing but panic and regret washes over you like a strong tidal wave. Suddenly, you grow lightheaded as you push yourself off him, fixing your bra while ignoring the confused and hurt look on his face.

“I gotta go to work,” you run out the room, feeling your body tremble as Satoru runs after you. “Make yourself breakfast. I’ll eat on the way out.”

“Y/N, wait!”

You know you’ve just ruined everything – that nothing will ever be the same after that – but you’re scared, utterly and remorsefully so, that you slam the door right in his face as if you don’t have any idea how much you broke him.

You’ll never forget the way Satoru’s face fell when you left.

Just as you thought, nothing is the same after that. The tension is so thick around the apartment you make an effort and go out of your way just to avoid him and the apartment completely.

It’s cowardly – you know this much – but do you ever try to fix the friendship you cherish but shattered completely? You don’t. You don’t because it only crashes down onto you now that maybe your feelings for him aren’t just platonic, after all. It’s even worse because you touch yourself at the thought of him filling you up when he’s asleep, all because you want him so bad and the mere presence of him has your brain malfunctioning.

It isn’t entirely sexual either. Yes, you want to fuck him badly, but it scares you down to the core even more because you want so much more than that.

Now you understand why you always say he’s a bother but never asked him to leave. It’s because you like him, actually romantically interested in him. It makes sense now why you always felt so annoyed whenever your co-workers asked for his number, or how you’re immediately pissed off when Satoru talks about this hot woman he saw at work. You always chalk it up to an excuse you just hate how he can’t keep in his pants, but it isn’t true at all.

It’s because you actually like him – and you’re at a loss on what to do or how to deal with it.

The next few days feels like hell. Satoru isn’t stupid; he knows you’re avoiding him. He stops teasing you eventually and even buys takeout all the time when you lock yourself up in your room right after work, refusing to cook dinner or even eat all so you’d be spared the torture of looking at him.

He’d knock at your door and ask you to eat, but other than that, he’s respected your distance.

You feel like the most terrible person on earth. You don’t miss the way dark circles line under his eyes or how he’s lost his spark, barely even speaking to you when you’ve come or about to leave for work.

You’re alone the whole ride, as well, and it only dawns on you how lonely you are when Satoru isn’t always annoying you all the time.

But it doesn’t make sense. Why is he so bothered by it? Didn’t he regret it? It’s painfully clear you’re not Satoru’s type. You’ve seen the women he dated before, and you’re not close to them so why does he seem like he’s struggling with this as well? Or maybe...he’s just sad that his friend is avoiding him.

Yeah, that has to be it.

Satoru is a man. He was probably turned on at that time, but after giving some thought about it, he probably wants to keep his distance too. He’d be insane if he ever actually wants to date you – his best friend out of all people – because he’s Gojo Satoru and he could literally have everyone else.

You don’t care that you’re a coward.

You don’t care that Satoru is sad to see you this way.

You don’t care because you know he’ll reject you, you know he’ll be weirded if you admit your feelings for him. To him, you’re like his little sister. There’s just no way you two would work out. For now, you have to get comfortable with the uncomfortable. You just need some time to get over your feelings for him, and when you’re confident you won’t fall for him again, you’ll mend your friendship.

You just need time.

“So, Y/N, you still don’t want to give us your friend’s number?”

“Yeah, Y/N, you should share it,” your co-worker encourages by jabbing her shoulder to yours. It’s a lazy Friday night and the staff went out for dinner. You don’t usually come to these hangouts since dinner with Satoru is always much more fun, but he’s the last person you want to think about now, so you happily join them. Now, though, you’re starting to regret ever coming here. “If he’s really single like you said, then it shouldn’t be a big deal to ask for it.”

“Well, since you want it so badly, why don’t you ask him directly for it instead?” you snap, feeling anger begin to trickle. All you wanted was just one day where you don’t have to think of him, but of course they had to bring him up. It’s also annoying how they can never seem to get the message across that you don’t want them dating him. “Why do I have to be the messenger?”

“We haven’t seen him much. Doesn’t he always walk you to work?”

“He’s been busy with his job, that’s all.” And also because I’m avoiding him – so now he’s avoiding me too.

“He’s a teacher, right?”

“Oh, come on, guys, don’t be so dense,” your senpai chugged her drink rather loudly, catching the attention of your nosy co-workers who wouldn’t stop pestering you for his number. “Look at how uncomfortable she looks. It’s obvious she doesn’t want you guys to be involved with her friend for a reason. Think of how weird it is for her too if ever her co-worker and best friend dated. She’s going to feel like a third wheel.”

“I’m not—”

“That makes sense,” your co-worker nodded beside you, “Are you sure you just don’t like him though?”

“Ew, why would I?” the food began to taste bitter through your lies, “He may be tall and attractive, but as his roommate, I’ve seen his ugly side. Satoru is a complete slob and can’t even cook to save his life.”

“I don’t mind cooking for him all the time if I were to be his little housewife.”

“That’s never gonna happen,” your words came out harsher than it was, and you laugh it off with a wave of your hand when your co-workers’ eyes widened. “I’ve been living with him for six months and he’s never brought anyone home or told me he’s going on a date. I told you already, he’s a no strings attached kind of guy. He’s nothing but a one night stand.”

“You have to admit he’s still sexy though.”

Right. You hide your groan through another shot because there’s no way of convincing them otherwise. As much as you hate to admit, you’re actually jealous on how freely they could talk about him like that, but then again, it’s not like you and Satoru were dating – or would ever date, for that matter.

They start to leave one by one when it starts to get late, leaving only you who’s still desperate to avoid Satoru. Nothing prepares you for when the sky darkens and a storm comes pouring just as you’ve left the closing shop, the rain drenching and soaking your clothes through and through. Running under the nearest tree for shelter, you shiver. It’s cold – way too cold – and curse yourself for not bringing a darned umbrella.

The nearest bus stop is like what, fifteen to twenty minutes away? Your teeth are chattering and your legs are shaking, and you fumble through your phone as you dial a number you know by heart before you even realize what you’re doing. “S-Satoru?”

“Y/N,” the surprise is unmasked in his voice, something shuffling in the background before it falls silent. “Is everything okay?”

“Uhm, are you busy right now? It’s fine if you are, I’m just—”

“I’m training with Yuuji, but what is it?”

“Listen, I,” you inhale sharply when coldness bursts through your body, making you shiver and press yourself closer to tree to get away from the rain. Above you, thunder crackles before the rain grows heavier and angrier. “I forgot to bring an umbrella and I’m absolutely soaked right now. The nearest bus stop is fifteen minutes away and all the buildings here look so shady—”

“I’ll be on my way. Text me where you are,” You nod and thank him, too cold and numb to realize you’ve just broken days of silence. You lose track of time under there, hugging yourself until your lips turn blue. It doesn’t take long before Satoru shows up minutes later, his hair equally drenched and sticking flat to his eyes free from his blindfold while he pants, hand on his knees. “Thank goodness you’re safe. I rushed here so fast I forgot to bring an umbrella.”

After seeing Satoru drenched like that, something snaps within you. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact the rain is unforgiving as it slaps the pavement, and your heart breaks when you see that he’s more concerned for you – even after you’ve given him the silent treatment. “You idiot! Now you’re soaking wet too, you’re going to get sick!”

“Highly unlikely,” he shrugs. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“But what about—” Satoru suddenly carries you before draping his coat over your head, running until he found a cab to hail. He immediately asks the driver to turn up the heater while you tremble on top of him, not caring anymore that you’re sticking so close to him for heat.

Satoru doesn’t let you go all the way inside the apartment. He sets you down on the couch where you take off your wet clothes in haste, too cold with teeth chattering that you silently take the hoodie and boxers Satoru offers you, making sure to keep his gaze averted the whole time. Once fully dressed, you snuggle back into the sofa’s comfort, stiffening when the couch dips beside you.

Not a moment later, Satoru towel-dries your hair, leaving your mouth and throat dry with guilt. Even after you’ve unnecessarily been a bitch to him, he’s still so kind with you.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Satoru...” you twiddle with your thumbs just as he starts to ruffle the towel in your hair, making sure to squeeze water out of the strands as he dries it. “About what happened the other day—”

“It didn’t happen if you don’t want it to,” his voice is cold’ monotonous and so emotionless you’re rendered speechless. “You can forget about it.”

“I...”

“You regret it, right?” he’s done with drying your hair, and he stands up to place the wet towels in the sink as you watch him stride all the way there. He’s changed his clothes too; looking comfortable in a plain white shirt and some grey sweatpants, looking every bit the domestic boyfriend you’ve always wanted but can never have. “It’s fine. We can forget about it and go back to normal,” to emphasize his point, Satoru winks at you, though it does nothing but make your heart sink.

“What if I don’t want to forget it?” your voice is small; hesitant and wavering with fear. “What if...the only reason I pulled away is because I wanted more of you?”

Satoru’s back freezes as he sets the towel aside. At this point, your heart is pulsing on your tongue, and you dig your nails onto your thighs when Satoru sits down next to you, right next to you. He’s silent the whole time; eyes calculatedly piercing through yours. Your breath hitches when his hands that are burning hot against your cold skin cups your jaw before his thumb runs across your lips, his eyes turning dark at your reactions.

“And what if I said I felt the same way?”

“I,” you gasp, closing your eyes because it all feels so surreal. “I like you, Satoru. I like you a lot and I—” he doesn’t let you finish. Soon, you find yourself in his lap with his hands cupping your cheeks while he smashes his lips onto yours.

Satoru is absolutely feral. He’s breathing hard and almost angry, even, with the way his teeth are biting down to nibble on your lips. You moan when he drags you closer, your clothed centre rubbing on his thigh with delicious friction. “You have no idea,” he rasps down on your lips, “how much I’ve fucking liked you ever since we were kids,” Satoru pushes his hoodie aside, revealing your sweet neck to him, and he doesn’t waste his time in sucking and abusing the poor flesh so he can mark you as his. “I’ve always wanted you, Y/N, it’s always you, always you.”

You fist his hoodie when Satoru sinks his teeth down into the juncture of your neck, his hands curious and exploring every inch of your body. He knows you’re naked underneath his clothes, but it’s a different thing when he actually feels your breasts right on his palm. Satoru tweaks the hardened bud in his fingers, growling when you moan at the contact and use his thigh to get off.

“You—” you gasp as you expose your neck to him, wild and needy as you keep rubbing your heat over his thigh. “—talk way too fucking much,” you scold, finally pushing his lips away from your neck. Satoru chuckles at your eagerness but you silence him by flinging his boxers off of your body and somewhere far away, exposing your heat slick with arousal right in front of him. His pupils blow in excitement, hands coming up to grab at your hips, but his attention is taken away when you nibble on his ear to whisper, “Shut up and fuck me.”

The simple command is enough to make his patience snap. In a flash, you’re pinned underneath him, whining and moaning when his finger meets no resistance as he slips it inside. “You’re that needy, huh?” he laughs even louder when you lose it, humping yourself on his finger because it’s not enough.

“Satoru,” you beg, clutching his bicep when he adds another finger in. “More.”

His fingers are so long, hitting places that your small ones could never reach. He begins to scissor his way in, his fingers deliciously rubbing against your velvety walls while pumping them inside and out in a speed that causes you to squelch around him.

It’s absolutely lewd how you’re eagerly spread out before him, but your head is clouded with lust, no longer hindered by shyness out of your need to cum. Your chest is rising heavily, his thumb now rubbing against your clit as he coaxes you to cum. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he kisses your cheeks, eyelids, nose, anywhere but your lips, his voice so gentle and innocent as if he’s not knuckle deep inside you. “Tell me how you want me.”

“Inside,” you whine, gasping when he brushes against a really sensitive spot that has you clamping down on him. “‘Toru, fuck, just fuck me.”

“Beg for it,” he smiles against your skin, relentless and harsh as he keeps pushing inside you. You feel him everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Another finger adds in until you’re dripping enough on his palm and staining the couch, but neither of you care. “I said, beg for it.”

“No,” you hold back, nearly crying out when he pulls your fingers out of you. That sudden emptiness is back again, but you don’t want to beg. You’ve never begged another man before, and this won’t be the first time you’ll be doing so either. You refuse to let him have the upper hand despite the crystal clear fact you’re already soaking wet for him, but because you’re stubborn, you only fumble with his sweatpants to spring his cock free.

He’s already dripping with pre-cum from the slit, his cock hard and angry. Despite his arousal, Satoru stops you from going further, using only one hand to trap both your wrists. “Beg for it,” he demands again, his other fist already pumping down on his shaft.

You nearly cry at the sight. Both of you are aware that Satoru is capable of pleasuring himself, but it’s not that easy for you. Your small, dainty fingers will never be parallel to the pleasure his long cock could give you. All you had to do was beg for it. He’s right there, within reach, if only you’d just –

Impatient for your answer, Satoru takes you by the hips and discards your hoodie in the process, sinking you down his cock, inch by delicious inch. You don’t hold back from the sensual and high-pitched moan that leaves your lips. He’s long, and the tip of his cock just about brushes your cervix when he bottoms out. He feels so good, so warm and huge and filling you up right where you want him to be. Your head falls down on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips, but Satoru has had enough.

“Fuck, look at you,” he presses on the bulge of his cock visible through your abdomen. “You’re so fucking small – how do you take me so well? I could ruin you. Do you want that? Do you want me to ruin you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck.”

“You think you can just leave me hanging like that, huh?” he slaps your ass, eliciting another moan from you and making you clench around his cock. Satoru falters for a moment. Before you can react, he stands up, your legs wrapped around his waist with nothing but his tip hitting inside you. “You’ve been so fucking mean – leaving me wanting you like that and ignoring me for days. Do you think you deserve this, huh?” Satoru kicks his door open at the same time he loosens his hold around your ass, making you slide down his length the next second.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out just as Satoru begins to bounce you, your breasts following the motion of him fucking deep into you. “Fuck, Toru, that’s too—”

He’s so eager to fuck you, to make a mess out of you and have you losing your mind over his cock that he doesn’t even wait until you’re both on the bed. You no longer register when your back hits the pillow, or how your arms are frozen when he pins it above your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praises as he watches you clench around him. You’re so small and his eyes zero in on the way your abdomen bulges then flattens again every time he pounds into you, rolling his hips in a way that has you screaming and thighs quaking. “Beautiful, beautiful, perfect,” the moment his hands grip at your hips to pin you down, you know he’s not going to stop. And you don’t want him to.

Satoru latches his lips around your right breast, gently grazing his teeth over it while his other hand pinches and rolls the pebbled nipple between his fingers. He feels so good – and you’re crying already by the time you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer.

The room is filled with the smell of sex, the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with his breathy grunts and your moans like heaven on his ears. Satoru wants you to feel how much he loves you – how much he adores you – and the pace he sets is torturous. He snaps his hips against yours and presses down on the bulge of his cock through your belly, chuckling when you tighten more around him.

Your head lols to the side, tears falling down your pretty face because of how rough he’s being. But you don’t complain, not when he’s filling you in so deep and he’s kissing you everywhere, touching you everywhere, making you feel nothing else and nobody else but him.

“You’re amazing,” he rasps, watching the way your tight cunt sucks him in greedily as if you don’t want him to go anywhere else. “You take me in so well – you really want me to destroy you, huh?”

“Satoru, please,” you finally plead, “I-I’m cumming, I want you, I need you, oh,” you squeal when he finally lets your arms free. You look so precious, so innocent, and he doesn’t let up his pace. He plants his feet into the ground and his strokes begin to grow sloppy, your tight walls encouraging him to go faster, go deeper.

If possible, Satoru is only even more fuelled with the way you look so precious and innocent in that moment. His touch is gentle in comparison to the way he’s mercilessly plowing into you, using his thumb to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks. He knows he’s too big for you, that much is obvious from how much you’re already overstimulated just by his size, but your nails sink down on the flesh of his ass as a silent plead for more.

“Fuuuuck, I’m so close!”

“Yeah?” He fondled your clit, loving the sight of your small body creaming down on his cock. “Come for me, sweet girl. I want to feel you coming on my cock. Come on, tell me you’re mine. You’re made me for aren’t you?”

“Yes, Satoru, fuck,” you squeal, throwing your head back for a second when he keeps hitting your g-spot that has you seeing stars. Your toes curl and your hands fist the sheets behind you as he keeps impaling you with his cock right then and there.

You looked perfect; so perfect to him that he’s basically using you for his own pleasure at this moment. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, back arching and nipples brushing against his chest.

In that moment, you grow needy to have him even closer, tilting up to blindly search for his lips. Satoru complies; leaning down and leaving open mouthed breathy kisses that’s a mix of you moaning and crying around him, while he struggles to do so when he’s cursing at the feeling of you coating his cock with your juices. Satoru looks down at your tiny frame trapped in his arms, his voice husky as he groans once he saw both of your arousal absolutely leaking out of your wet cunt.

He’s so close but you’re already over the edge, scratching at his back at the overstimulation. You’re still so sensitive from when you came and Satoru doesn’t slow one down one bit. He loses his rhythm as his thrusts go sloppy, and Satoru buries his face in your neck as his cock twitches inside you until he bursts with his cum leaking out of your hole.

Satoru’s arms give out beneath you, his chest colliding with yours but not enough that he’s crushing you with his weight. You’re both breathing hard and panting, his dick softening inside you.

He pulls back a moment later to slide out his sensitive cock, wincing while he watches pools of cum gather in your pussy before it drips out. It isn’t until he’s witnessing the mess he’s made he realizes how you’ve been so good for him; taking him all the way in despite your quivering frame. It dawns on him now just how tiny you are when he pulls you close to him; you’re practically hanging off his chest with how small your body is.

He wonders how you’re able to fit all of him, but he’s grateful nevertheless. Satoru shows his appreciation by peppering kisses all over your face, his hand snaking down to caress your inner thighs.

“Hmm,” you moan into the kiss, jolting when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit. “Satoru, no,” you whine while pushing his hand away, and he shushes you with another kiss. “’M too sensitive, please...”

“It’s fine, cupcake, it’s fine,” his nickname for you is back again, and you lean closer to him just as he begins to massage your sore legs. “You did so well for me, cupcake, you know that? You’re such a good girl for me,” too fucked out to have a comprehensive answer, you only nod in response, spreading your legs open again and ignoring the warm stickiness between your thighs as Satoru kneads your abused flesh. You feel him kiss your temple before he leaves to get a towel and cleans you up. Meanwhile, you’re so tired you’re about to doze out in his bed.

“Hey,” he soothes, bundling you up in his arms until you’re tucked in the safety of his body. So small, he coos inside his head, watching as you fold yourself even smaller while your eyes flutter. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh into his shoulder, “I feel good. Thank you.”

Satoru doesn’t really know what you’re thanking him for. He feels like he’s the one who’s mostly indebted to you after everything you’ve done for him. You’ve already fallen asleep before he gets the chance to tell you how he feels, so Satoru only covers you both under his blanket, making sure there’s no more space between you out of fear you’ll distance yourself from him again.

But he doesn’t have to worry about that because you’re right next to him, and you’re never out of reach.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x reader romance #gojo satoru x reader romance #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo-satoru-x-reader #gojo-satoru-x-reader-smut #gojo satoru #gojo satoru romance #gojo satoru fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jjk gojo satoru #jjk fluff #gojo satoru fic #jjk fic #jjk romance #jujutsu kaisen romance #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen fic

[antibioware]

Deltarune and Escapism

Alright now that my hands have finaly stopped trembling and my eyes aren’t burning anymore, time to write my two cents about the new chapter and the reveal that the mysterious “Knight” who has been opening the worlds is Kris themselves, while being free of their soul.

I’m not surprised that people automatically assumed that Kris is doing it because they’re “evil” or what the fuck ever, because even back in 2018, without any whatsoever no mercy route available or true hints beyond a 3 seconds cutscene, people were already giving Kris the Chara treatment.

My personal thoughts about why Kris keeps doing it is actually very simple: they’re using the Dark World as a mean to escape reality.

Kris doesn’t appear to be living a particular easy time in their life. Their brother just went to college, and both from their internet searches and from general talks around town, it’s very evident that Kris misses him fiercely.

On top of that, their parents divorce seems to have happened very recently and they’re stuck in the middle of it (with Asgore using them as a bridge to give Toriel flowers, for example) and their social life doesn’t seem to be  the best: Toriel is pleasantly surprised in Chapter 1 to discover Kris is spending time with a friend, and by many they’re considered a weirdo.

So what happens when a teen who doesn’t have the best life creates a parallel “pretend” world were they’re a hero and have friends who love them?

If Dark Fountains are caused by a Lightner stabbing the Earth with a knife, it’s not hard to imagine Kris, who apparently has a personal knife, doing it on either  accident or curiosity. Back at the beginning Chapter 1, when the door “changes” in front of Susie and Kris, their instinctive reaction outside of player control is to take a step back, which could easily mean that they were scared, but it could also mean that they could have caused whatever was going on inside and were scared of seeing what it was.

The fact that the Dark Worlds have been so far used as escapist fantasies is also proved by the fact that all the Lightners who have been under are also teens who are having a rough time in their everyday life:

Susie is someone who’s considered a violent bully, has no friends and she’s hinted so far as not having a great home life, between the way she reacts to getting her own room in Ralsei’s castle, as well as her reation to Toriel being nice to her and also her accepting to sleep over while only pretending to call back home to alert she was sleeping at a friend’s house.

Noelle allows people (Berdly) to push her around because she’s afraid of standing up for herself and make her own choices (this is also highlighted by the Snowgrave route), and back home she has only a too busy, too harsh mother, due to having an (apparently dead) absent sister and her father stuck in the hospital with an unknown illness.

Berdly made his own life harsher by pretending to be something he’s not and now he’s slowly being crushed under the weight of adult expectations for him, and due to that he ends up taking merit for stuff Noelle does and speaking over her, despite the fact that he seems to genuinely care for her.

All of which seem to thrive in the fun settings of the Dark World, despite being in a situation of danger and the ups and downs of the plot (this without considering the Snowgrave route). It’s exactly why in the end Ralsei has to intervene with the Legend in order to convince them to return to the world above, while they were dead set on creating new Dark Fountains.

Now, Kris may be possessed most of the time during their time in the Dark Worlds, but they still seem to appreciate the good they get from it. It’s Kris themselves, without player control, who moves to save Susie in Chapter 1 and tells Toriel they have made a new friend. It’s Kris who changes the verbal inflection of some of the dialogue options the player uses in order to let others know they’re either joking or insincere.

It’s also Kris who makes the decision, outside of player control, to create another Dark Fountain.

Escapism is one hell of a drug, after all. You can’t blame the kids for wanting to be somewhere they can be themselves without being judged, or even be with people that irl tend to avoid them, or where a loving character who vaguely resembles your missing older brother is. So they make more worlds, for better or worse, because it could easily be that a fantasy world were you’re manipulated in your actions seems better than your actual life.

I say for better or worse, because a thing that the Snowgrave route pointed out to me is that there’s some levels of player control that Kris can experience. While you can say there are actions in the regular game when Kris does things out of their free will, in the Snowgrave route there aren’t. There’s no bit in the game were Ralsei gets to speak alone with Kris while the player is occupied looking at Susie, you stop getting dialogue options and instead Kris turns silent. Noelle also says that the voice who was ordering her around wasn’t Kris’, but rather something else entirely, which means that Kris, when obliged to Do All That Nightmare Stuff, wasn’t in any way in control of themselves. It could be said that while Kris was manipulating Noelle into hurting others, the player was manipulating Kris into believing that hurting others is all fine too, because the Dark World isn’t real, after all. It’s natural to want to hurt others. It’s just a game.

In which case, of course, Kris still wanting to open up a new Dark World the moment they’re out of player control takes a MUCH darker meaning.

tl;dr Kris is creating the Dark Fountains for themselves to escape their current life, and it’s not because “they’re evil”, but to keep having adventures with friends OR because the level of player control they’re experiencing makes them believe being violent to others in the world under is justified and fun.

#deltarune #dr #deltarune spoilers #long post #i wanted to get this outta my system first

[prof-peach]

What would make a good ghost-type starter? My kid's about to turn ten and REALLY wants a Gastly. I think it's because the Ecruteak Gym Leader, Morty, and his Gengar are like, her childhood heroes. She says she even wants to be a ghost-type specialist. Honestly though, I'm kinda reluctant. I mean, you've heard the rumors about ghost-types and children, right?

Your concern as a parent is wholesome, and I can understand your reluctance to dishing out a ghost Pokemon without further investigation first, so let’s put some rumours to bed here.

The dex entries often depict ghost types and tricky, scary, wild and sometimes even dangerous, stealing children away, being living grudges, turning lost kids to Pokemon, and being overall hard to handle, often somewhat lacking in empathy even.

This is what a dex does, it’s built for kids, it’s information is out there to inspire kids to find intrigue in species that are overlooked. When your little, you make up stories, as a parent I’m sure you know, some of those stories your kids tell you seem actually terrifying, horrific, some kids love to indulge in the creepy, the unusual. It’s not to be feared, it’s to be celebrated. The dex is an exaggeration, a base for further learning, and often the gateway to kids wanting to know more. There is a fatal downside, their entries and statements about some species can be unnerving to a regular adult. We are fearful, we see this potentially spooky dangerous thing and of course we want to protect the family from that. But the info given is often a 1% (at most) chance occurrence.

Phantump? They aren’t born of lost kids in the woods. You ask any breeder worth their salt, and they’ll tell you they’ve seen those Pokemon hatch from eggs like everything else.

Drifloon, tries to steal kids apparently? Nah, they’re lighter than air, most of their movements just simply look that way, but it’s usually the wind pushing their bodies about. They’re actually very kind pokemon.

What else, oh, Banette. Born of a discarded toy with an eternal grudge? Haha nope. They aren’t all made that way, at all, many evolve to be perfectly happy healthy Pokemon with a lot of love for their trainers.

The dex focuses in on the unusual, the extraordinary, the facts that statistically will interest their target demographic most, and kids have way less fear than us. Look at yours. She’s been exposed to the same stuff you have, yet she’s not hesitant to want a ghost type, she’s not afraid, not learnt that fear yet, which is an incredibly good thing.

On the very unusual case where a ghost type is like their dex entry, it’s usually captured, aided, and rereleased in a secure location, away from those who could get hurt by it.

Ghost Pokemon do not hatch with a choice of body, a choice of type, or a set of rules to follow. Just like us, they learn and amble through their life trying to find satisfaction, friends, work, family, love and kindness, and to figure out how they fit in it all. They’re highly complex and empathetic Pokemon, often treated differently because of what they are, rather than who they are. When they find people and Pokemon who don’t treat them with hostility and unkindness, they will spend their life with them, they will give everything for them, protecting their loved ones with the ferocity other species can’t muster.

I for one think that as long as your kid knows what to expect, and is responsible and reliable in caring for a Pokemon, then perhaps it’s a good time to start looking. A ghastly is a perfectly fine starter, they have low care requirements, snacking occasionally, but feeding mostly from places of reflection or worship.

You know why ghost types always hang around graves? It’s how they feed. When people reflect, they produce a certain kind of energy, it is not something you can measure easily, or see, but a ghost Pokemon can sense it. They have learnt to live off the energy people expend reflecting, and the most common accessible place to get this for a ghost type, is graves. They also frequent places of worship, monuments beloved by locals, and buildings that once housed a lot of love. You can tell when an abandoned house had something truly terrible happen in it, not even the ghosts will feed there. The energy is bitter to them, and many don’t care for it.

To help your kid, set up a place within the house where you, your family, your other Pokemon, can go to reflect. Some people build this space around the telephone, or computer. When thinking of, or talking to distant loved ones, the same energy is produced, so at home the ghost type can snack and not run low on energy. It’s a nice modern day adaption that’s makes caring for ghost much easier thankfully. Spending 10-20 minutes every other day in the reflection zone will feed the ghost, but will not drain you or your kid. They do not eat up a lot from us, nothing we haven’t already expended.

Along with this, be aware that the ghost line can be somewhat nocturnal, so setting up a regular bedtime might be a little tricky, so that the Pokemon is accounted for, but also so the kids not out all night, that’s not safe at all. Sunset seems to be their peak active hour on average, long shadows mean they can jump around fast between dark patches, a trick ghost show off regularly.

If you are worried, try to make time to go out with your kid and their partner, to a park or maybe a more central street that’s well lit, so they can practice and be trainers in a safe environment. I can totally get not wanting them out in the dark alone, safety always comes first.

What else. She’ll probably have to start carrying an umbrella around. Ghastly aren’t too keen on suuuuper bright light, midday is not easy for them, but some do not want to sit in the pokeball while their trainer is up and awake, they want to play and be around them. An umbrella means they can get some shade no matter the time of day, and have some freedom to move about even in harsh sunlight. Too long in the sun will drain them of energy, and they’ll need to rest and sleep it off, recharge at the reflection station at home, or go spend an hour in a churchyard or something.

They eat most things and sleep anywhere, so there’s not a huge amount of specialist items to be bought for the home. Test different flavours on them, and try to find a ghastly that has a temperament that’ll get along with your whole family. You should definitely check out local adoption centres, they are in undated with ghost types this time of year. People hand them in for all sorts of reasons.

Little tip, if you bring Morty spicy baked goods, like chilli cheese bread or something, he’s more inclined to help you. He hangs out near the burnt tower a lot with his team, and takes trips to the local food festivals too, so if you notice an advert for one, see if you can catch the guy there. He’s reluctant to take on students, but if your kid turns up with a ghastly, and (from what I can assume) and overabundance of energy for Pokemon, plus a spicy treat, the guy melts a little and you can ask questions or request a little time for your kid to get some tips and tricks from a professional gym leader. I think it’d be interesting to investigate at the least, sounds like he’s the closest link between her and the Pokemon she so desperately loves. Plus how cool would that be for her? Gets to talk to her childhood hero. Kind of cool.

As a parent, I advise you get some cleanse tags too. There may be rooms you don’t want them entering, or items you don’t want them messing with (knives/power tools ect) , placing a cleanse tag on each wall, or on the items, will stop them interacting with them, so you can sit knowing things are safe for the Pokemon and your family.

In short, don’t knock the ghost types, they’re just as important, kind and loving as any other Pokemon. I’m not saying naughty troublesome ones don’t exist, but chances are you’ll find one that’s a great match for your family. Thank you for asking questions and not jumping to just get a Pokemon ASAP, you’d be surprised how few people do their homework before inviting in a new Pokemon to the home.

#pokemon #prof.peach #peach talks #hoooo boy I went off on this one a bit #sorry guys #long post

[subpar-ghoulfriend]

Let’s have a baby

yandere!EraserMicx PREGNANT!Reader 

A terrible mix up leading to an accidental pregnancy? Or something more intentional? Either way now you were pregnant with (none other than the beloved power couple heroes) Eraserhead and Present Mic’s child. Time to discuss how co parenting is going to work. 

TW: pregnancy, artificial insemination, yandere elements, mentions of stalking, alludes to potential custody battle

You had been avoiding the two men for the past week, which was challenging seeing as they managed to find your phone number, address, and place of work. Any time you blocked their calls they got a new number. Two Pro Heroes versus a twenty something civilian, it was only a matter of time until you were cornered.

Now the couple stood between you and your apartment. You had a long shift at your job as a pet groomer and just wanted to get some rest.

Present Mic was the first to speak. "Hey lil momma, we heard you had work today so we brought you some dinner. We thought we could talk over a nice meal."

You had no response. You were tired, both physically and emotionally. You had been put through the ringer ever since meeting them at your doctors office. It was a total Jane the Virgin situation. You went in for an assessment about some supposed ovarian cysts and unknowing left artificially inseminated. There was a supposed mix up, a digital glitch that somehow merged your chart with the surrogates - apparently your names were super similar. Two weeks later you were called back into the doctor's office and informed of what took place. And now you were in this living nightmare.

And the two heroes had nothing to do with the error. There was totally a surrogate. They hadn't paid off your provider. And why would they? You had never met them - although given their patrols they may have seen you once or twice...

They were tearful when they were informed of the mix up, they had been waiting patiently through the whole process and now everything was thrown in chaos. They offered to compensate you for your service which sent you into a blind rage. They just assumed you would carry a child, a child with half of your DNA, and then give YOUR baby away. Rationally you understood that they had planned to be be the only parents to the child, but that was with a professional surrogate who understood the process, who didn't want the child in their life, just happy to help out a loving couple. But that wasn't you, you grew up wanting to be a mom, and now they would take that from you.

What if they tried to legally take sole custody of the baby? Surely they had some pull in the judicial system. Besides, they were a solid couple with money, while you were alone with no family and working two jobs. The thought made you sick to your stomach.

You were shaking as you tried to push past them. Maybe they would just disappear if you ignored them, a girl could dream. But instead they tagged along inside. Albeit you weren’t fighting them on it, you knew this had to happen eventually.

Aizawa easily found the cluttered dining table in your small apartment. You flinched when the loud one tried to help you shrug off your backpack. Taking a seat on the couch you waited for them to start berating you.

"Come sit at the table, dinner is getting cold," Eraser spoke for the first time.

"I'll eat later, I'm not hungry."

"You may not be, but the baby needs to eat."

You glared, how dare they insinuate you didn't know what your child needed. If your body was hungry, you ate. If you were full the baby was full too.

But, you complied, not wanting to argue, "Fine, but I ate a snack not too long ago."

As you ate, Mic kept you company, picking at some left overs, they clearly ate before their visit. Aizawa was rummaging through your place but you managed to hold your tongue until he began throwing things out of your fridge.

"What are you doing?" You hissed, getting up out of your seat.

"Mic and I will bring you groceries tomorrow. The food you have is barely safe for an adult, let alone a fetus."

"Are you kidding me? It's not like I'm chugging alcohol and living off Twinkies. Hey! I just bought those turkey slices. How is turkey bad?" You whined.

To make sure you wouldn't dig the food out trash he dumped it out of his container.

"Zashi, don't let me forget to empty the trash on our way out. Do you know how much salt is in deli meat? And there's no way you can drink any of this while you're pregnant." He gestures to the cans of soda.

As the frustration built you had to fight back tears. They couldn't come in to your home and start throwing out your things.

"Some of us don't make ridiculous money, I'm buying what I can afford and the doctor never had any problem with my health." You hissed.

Hizashi felt the tension thickening, "Hey hey hey, it's okay. Sho and I will go get you some good stuff. We just gotta watch out for you and baby."

And that was the end of your resolve, you stomped past the Hero and locked yourself in your bedroom. Finally tears began to drip down your cheeks.

Back in your kitchen Mic was chiding his boyfriend for being so tough on you.

"So I should just back down while she stuffs herself with junk food?"

Mic gave him a shrug, showing him a bottle on your counter, "At lest she's taking her prenatal vitamins?"

Grabbing the keys to your apartment Aizawa instructed Mic to wait with you while he got you better groceries. He would make copies of your keys on his was back.

You prayed they would leave soon. You were laying in your bed having cried yourself out. Barely into your second month of pregnancy. You still had to endure this for at least seven more months, but most likely much longer.

Next thing you knew you were opening your eyes and the clock read seven AM. By now your uninvited guests must be gone. Nervously you sat up, praying that you'd skip the morning sickness just once this week. You had always had a weak stomach and even the doctor was surprised you were already experiencing the symptom. Unfortunately the minute your feet touched the floor you knew what was coming. You sprinted to the restroom, not even checking to see if the duo had left.

God this was terrible, you didn't just hate throwing up, you were terrified of it. What if you started and never stopped? But it did come to an end. You wiped the water from your eyes and took a moment before standing from the floor. You screamed when a hand slid under your arm, helping you up. Another set of feet rushed to the bathroom.

" What's wrong?" Hizashi huffed as he skid to a stop.

You pulled arm free from Aizawa's grasp. "What are you two still doing here?"

You turned in the faucet to rinse your mouth. Trying to calm your stress, the nausea was trying to return.

Undeterred the scruff pulled your hair into a bun before rubbing your back. You debated returning to bed but that wouldn't get them out of your apartment. You told them you need to sit down, both of them nodding, still wearing their concerned expressions. They got you a glass of water before joining you on the couch. Stubborn men, you sat at the end of the couch so they couldn't both sit, but Mic decided to perch himself on the armrest.

He started petting your hair, "You feelin better little listener?" You nodded in response.

"I got you more food, let us know if your hungry."

You sighed in defeat, "I'm barely two months pregnant, I can fend for myself. What did you all want to talk about?"

You anxiously placed a hand on your stomach. Both men felt their hearts flutter recognizing your maternal instincts kicking in.

Aizawa let Mic begin, he was the more gentle of the two.

"Well, we figured we got off to a rough start. You got put in a tough situation. We shouldn't have assumed you didn't want a child so we're not mad at how you stormed out. But either way we expect to be in our baby's life. The two of us talked it over and we don't want to fight you if you want to be in their life too. So if you wanna be the mommy we're cool with it."

You could blame your reaction on your hormones for your response but you didn't, "Geez thank you so much for allowing me to be in MY child's life."

Aizawa placed a hand on the back of your neck, giving you a gentle massage. "Okay then, the three of us are gonna have a baby. That means you have to stop ignoring us. We can raise the baby together, without involving anyone else. But if we have to, we can always go the legal route for the baby's best interest." 

He knew it was a low blow, but the couple needed you to stop fighting them. Your eyes snapped to his and you shook your head in protest.

"Okay then we're all the same page," Aizawa reassured you.

Mic cheered, "Now we can focus on the fun stuff."

"Hun," Eraserhead caught his attention. "There's still a few more important things to figure out. We don't want you going back to that doctor. They're incompetent. We scheduled you an appointment with another's clinic for next week. Okay?"

You couldn't find your voice after how easily he threatened to take your baby. So you just nodded. Half listening.

"Good. We also went ahead and programmed our numbers into your phone. We need to be able to check in with you."

"Okay, but I can't use my phone at one of my jobs."

"About that lil momma," Mic started. "You work a lot, which is totally bad ass, but we don't think you leave enough time to rest and take care of yourself."

You tried to protest but Aizawa cut you off, "You also shouldn't be working around so many animals. Even though we love animals, they can be unpredictable and one dog can trigger all the rest into a frenzy."

You were dumbfounded, "I've never heard of anything like that happening. One of my coworkers was pregnant last year, she worked until her maternity leave. Plus I need to be able to pay my bills. And don't offer to compensate me again."

"Why do you have to view it as compensation? We just want to take care of the mother of our child. Just think about it. Mic and I have to go take care of some business but we'll be back later this week."

---

Back at their home Hizashi was dramatically splayed on their bed.

"Babe why are you pouting?" Aizawa asked.

"Why can't we just bring her home already?"

Aizawa sympathized with his better half, but they needed to be methodical. He reminded Hizashi that they didn't need to cause her even more stress, especially so early into the pregnancy. If they played their cards right they would have their happy little family soon enough.

If they could ease you in to the relationship everything would be easier in the long run. They had been managing just fine until now, they could wait a few more months.

He joined Hizashi on the couch. Mic was comforting himself the way he usually did when he felt like this. He was scrolling through the countless photos they had collected since their chance encounter with you over a year ago. 

#bnha yandere #yandere erasermic #yandere x reader #yandere present mic #yandere aizawa