#Smart Border Solutions

[coffee-and-geto]

BETWEEN FORMULAS, FLOWERS AND FEELINGS - SATORU GOJO

You are the imbalance in Satoru’s logical and rational reasoning.

pairing: nerd! gojo x student council president! reader

summary: being the student council president isn’t the easiest job in the world. It’s not like gojo — with his trademark glasses, his awkward smile hiding the most dangerous brain. because for him, he can resolve every problem, right? there is no formula that can escape his smart mind. not even you. so when he accepts to tutor you, could he really be sure feelings won’t become a new variable?

warnings: +18 MDNI, nsfw, smut, virgin! gojo, first time, oral (m! receiving), pinning, college AU, shojo vibes, quantum physics subject, slight angst, fluff, idiots in love, insecure! gojo, nerd gojo with glasses is hot, art by @/3-aem.

wc: 9,922

Ever since he was little, Satoru Gojo seemed to have been blessed with knowledge.

His very first Christmas toy — when he was finally old enough to have one — was a huge playset containing chemical transformation recipes to prepare by himself, using a handful of formulas and calculations.

When he turned ten, his parents gifted him a kit that allowed him to build his own electric train circuit, which he had to assemble using physics methods so that real electricity could power his trains — and sometimes even his cars.

By the time he reached middle school, scientific subjects like physics and chemistry became his second mother. Nothing escaped him. Formulas, molecular mechanisms, and chemical transformations held no secrets. This passion for complex methods shaped his logic.

For every problem, Satoru always found a solution. To him, the world was nothing but a set of solvable scientific probabilities, where nothing could slip through his grasp.

But growing up with barely controllable hormones… poor Satoru had experienced firsthand just how bitter that could taste, even at university.

The first time he asked a girl from his middle school to go out with him in his third year, Satoru never would have thought she’d laugh right in his face before calling him a useless nerd.

He didn’t let anything show. And yet, it was from that very day that Satoru’s glasses, his passion for science, and his own self-confidence betrayed him.

He decided to give up on feelings — classifying them as a deceitful, unscientific belief with a complete lack of logic, something better suited for grotesque purposes like the movies or romantic TV series that entertained uncultured people.

Satoru didn’t need emotions when logic always prevailed, never once disappointing him.

But upon entering university, he could never understand why — despite his silence and absolute discretion, buried in his studies — his cerulean blue eyes always seemed to find their way back to you.

You were the student council president of the school. Known for your upright mind, flawless organization, and a sense of justice so firm it sometimes bordered on harshness.

You had no time for anyone. You spent your days planning university events without wasting a single second — a notebook always pressed against your chest, and occasionally, a pair of glasses perched on your nose during intense activities like studying for exams or arranging event halls, which were regularly occupied by you and your staff.

What intrigued Satoru the most about you was your logic.

You planned everything, organized everything, all while maintaining grades nearly as excellent as his. You never wasted time hanging around with those ridiculous girls who would likely reject him if he ever dared to speak to them, and he had already admire witnessed you standing up for people like him — those trapped in their introversion and buried in their books — refusing to tolerate the injustice caused by the school’s most popular students.

A deep respect radiated from you.

Something Satoru refused to admit. Even though he knew you could short-circuit his brain in an instant.

Like that time when you had asked him for a pen at the library during your study session because he wasn’t far from your table. His face had turned crimson, and he could have sworn smoke was coming out of his ears. His mouth — so used to speaking with precision and efficiency — completely failed him in front of you.

The words got stuck in his throat, and the few sounds that miraculously managed to escape were nothing but incomprehensible stutters, earning him a confused frown from you.

In the end, he gave up on any attempt at conversation and simply handed you the best pen in his pencil case — his favorite. And he had almost silently prayed in his head that you would forget to return it so that you would keep it with you.

And he hated that.

This power you had over him — the way you made him nervous, shy, and desperate for you.

Just like in middle school.

Something he had sworn to leave behind.

~~~~

“NO, NO, AND NO!”

The event hall falls into a deathly silence as you shout your words with such force and vehemence that your fists crush the few sheets of paper still clutched between your tense fingers.

No one dares to move anymore — a part of the staff is busy moving boxes of decorations, two others are handing you papers to sign, some are hovering around you with questions, and others are amusing themselves by climbing ladders to place Christmas decorations — as if your scream alone has just pierced through the entire university.

With your jaw clenched, a vein pulsing at your temple, your cheeks flushed with anger, and your throat slightly irritated, you struggle to breathe as all attention shifts onto you.

“I said I haven’t decided on the organization of the Spring Formal yet, that nothing is supposed to be taken out, signed, or even requested until I’ve given the order, so what the fuck are you all doing here?!” you exclaim.

You push past the students in your way and snap your fingers at the two idiots fooling around with the decorations.

“You two — you’re fired.”

Then, you turn to the rest of the group handling the boxes. “If you don’t want to be fired too, hurry up and put that away!” Next, to the members waiting for you to sign papers. “Out!”

As the room empties in silence, filled with sulky and terrified faces at the thought of dealing with you, you take a deep breath before crouching down to the floor, burying your face between your knees, your arms trembling.

There isn’t much time left.

Director Yaga has given you a deadline to organize the Spring Formal, leaving you in charge of the theme, the venue, and the entertainment.

But, for the first time in your role, you are literally overwhelmed.

For the first time as well, no inspiration comes to you. The stress of classes, exams happening at the same time as the event date, your poor grades lately, and the pressure your team keeps adding on top of all that—at some point, you were bound to explode.

With all of this piling up, how are you supposed to manage?

That’s exactly what you asked yourself during your class that very afternoon, staring at your 40/100 in quantum physics.

With your heart sinking into your stomach, you hastily shove the paper into your bag, not caring in the slightest if it gets crumpled.

No one must see that the student council president allows herself to yell at her team while having such catastrophic grades. But your overloaded schedule no longer allows you to focus on your studies alone — how can you concentrate and stay organized when all you want to do is throw yourself out the window?

~~~~

“You need to register to require a tutor.”

“But I don’t need one.”

The male student raises an eyebrow. “So what are you doing here?”

You scoff. How dare he talk to you like that?

You’re in the library, one of the most soothing and stressful places in the world. You’ve had to find a way to get your grades up while you sort out your problem with Spring Formal, but in the meantime, you need to find a student who can tutor you without anyone knowing.

So what better way to find out than from the librarian’s assistant — who is also one of the Tutoring Center’s organizers?

“I need to know who’s the top student in quantum physics here,” you insist with a firmer tone.

Forgetting you’re at the entrance to the library, you purse your lips, a little embarrassed.

“We don’t have ‘top students’, prez,” he replies with a bitter smile — ah, so he knows who you are.

“So how do you help the students?” you ask with almost indignation.

He shrugs. “If you need help—”

“I do not,” you cut him off coldly, cheeks on fire as you adjust your bag over your shoulder. You sigh in annoyance at the student’s lack of efficiency.

“Then, how can I help you?” He gives you the most impertinent smile in the world, as if he’s just waiting for you to get the hell out.

You tuck a stray lock of your hair back behind your ear before rolling your eyes. “I need to talk to a top student in quantum physics, that’s all.”

The student looks at his fingernails as if they're the most important thing in the world and mimes huffing. “We don’t have any.” He looks up at you. “If you’re looking for one, there’s a nerd who’s the best in his class.”

Curiosity pricks the back of your neck, causing you to sit up straight. “Who?”

“Gojo, I think,” he said, frowning as if to remember his name. “Sato-thing, if I remember. Anyway, a nerd. You should know him, I guess.”

You shake your head, eyes almost squinting as you seek the memory of a Gojo name. But nothing comes to mind. So you shrug.

“What does he look like?”

“Albino. Blue eyes, nerd glasses, always dressed in a sweatshirt or shirt and he always has a book under his arm.”

“All right, thanks.”

Then you hurry out of the library and its oppressive walls, leaving the assistant to sigh with relief — as much as you do.

~~~~

“So, you are… Gojo Sato-thing?”

He has a little disappointed smile. “Satoru Gojo, prez.” With a nervous gesture, he places the strap of his shoulder bag back on his shoulder and adjusts his glasses, which slide down his nose.

You stare at him motionless for a few seconds, speechless at the all-too-perfect likeness of the Tutoring Center manager’s description. He’s got a book under his arm, a Digimon t-shirt over a dark blue plaid shirt and an innocent look on his face — he really wasn’t wrong.

You blink. “Um… yeah. Whatever.”

You check that no one in the corridor of the quantum physics wing has left any students lying around who might surprise you with him, then let out an exhausted exhale.

Faced with his 6'3, you owe it to yourself to raise your eyes and chin a little higher.

“I need your help. You're the best physics student in the class, right?”

He turns the toe of his shoe as a tic on the floor and nods imperceptibly.

“Perfect. I’ve got a little problem right now and—”

“Do you need me to do an assignment for you?” he says almost as if trying to divine your thoughts — is that hope you see in his eyes?

“No.” You knit your brows. “I’m having a problem with my grades and I’m swamped with my event responsibilities and I'm starting to get grades...” You chew the inside of your cheek to hide your pride before muttering, “...pretty bad. And I don’t feel like being given help publicly.”

In his confused expression, you add, “Otherwise it would be a real shame...”

From his height, Satoru’s shyness almost flies away in a gust. He’s got you there at last. In front of him. Talking about something. Like a dream come true — a reality where he no longer knows what his name is but whatever.

He even perceives a blushing creeping up your cheeks as you drift your gaze a little lower to your own shoes and your lips crumple into an adorably embarrassed and frustrated little pout.

Then of course he’ll help you.

He would give you more if he could, and he promises to himself he’ll do it.

“So you need me as your secret tutor?” he clarifies so softly.

You look up at him, clearing your throat. “Basically… yeah.”

“Fine. I can do that.” A small smile spreads across his pink lips and he digs his hands into his jeans, which are a little baggy for him.

You flicker your eyes, confusion animating your features. “Is that all?”

“Do you need anything else?” And you’d have sworn you saw hope still shining in his ocean-blue irises.

“What? No,” you retort incredulously. “But don’t you need something in return? Like, money or something?”

“...No,” he exhales, reducing his smile — though it still lingers. “I don’t mind helping you. Just give me your free hours so we can set a date. If that’s okay with you, of course,” he hastens to add, as if afraid of upsetting you.

Your lips part slightly. “O-Okay,” you finally say. “I’d like to do this as soon as possible.”

“How about today?” Satoru suggests, with a little more enthusiasm than he had anticipated himself. “Or even now, if you want.”

“Now?”

“Yeah,” he says with a happy nod.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit too earl—”

Barely ten minutes later, you find yourself sitting next to him once again in the library, which, for once, is not too crowded, pretending to have a casual conversation while, in reality, he is analyzing your failed test papers with an expert eye.

One elbow resting on the polished wooden table, one hand holding one of your sheets between his fingers, and the other with his index and thumb supporting his chin, Satoru lets his gaze travel line by line over your flawless handwriting—so much so that he forgets he’s supposed to be concentrating on helping you.

And not on the pretty way you write the letter ‘S,’ wondering how close he’d be to a cardiac arrest if he ever saw his name written by your hand.

When he finally manages to analyze the mistakes on your paper, Satoru straightens slightly in his seat, adjusting the collar of his unbuttoned shirt that suddenly seems to be strangling him with an invisible noose, despite his neck remaining completely free. His heart pounds at the speed of light — almost literally.

Calculations and formulas have always been child’s play for Satoru; his brain has always been wired for logic, rationality, and the addictive thrill of adrenaline coursing through his veins when he makes a new discovery, a new analysis that falls perfectly into place — like completing a puzzle and watching it come to life, or like a house of cards standing strong until the slightest imbalance brings it all crashing down.

You are the imbalance in Satoru’s logical and rational reasoning.

For Satoru, love is not a science. It’s just hormones that one must learn to control and not be fooled by.

And yet, even though he has devoted his body and soul to science, his heart will never cease to be yours — under your implacable and irrevocable hold.

Even with all the scientific weapons in the world, he will always be powerless before you.

With a flutter of snowy lashes, he returns to reality, setting his gaze on yours; persistent, waiting for him to say something, to give some kind of critique.

His mouth goes dry, heat rushes to his cheeks as he clears his throat, embarrassed.

“Well, uh... I guess we can start revisiting the notion of The Uncertainty Principle, if that’s okay with you.” He gives you a quick glance so unconfident that you restrain yourself from doing what you're thinking of: ripping off his adorable cheeks — adorable? Since when do you find nerds adorable?

“Okay,” you say, pulling a draft sheet closer.

As you move your chair closer to his to concentrate better thanks to the proximity, the effect is quite the opposite on poor Satoru. He nearly loses all composure when his trembling fingers close around his pencil.

“W-Well… Um, do you want me to give you a quick lesson on this again? You didn’t seem to grasp much of the concept.”

“If you can use simple words…” you mumble without much hope.

He swallows hard before explaining, “A rule in quantum physics says: you can’t know both the exact position and momentum of a particle at the same time. The more you know about one, the less you know about the other. Got it?”

You squint, uncertain, as you rest your chin in the hollow of your palm. “Mh-hmm…”

“So,” he draws two Delta symbols, each followed by an x and a p, then an equal sign, “this one represents the uncertainty in position while the other represents the uncertainty in momentum.” He leans slightly forward to clearly define the terms for you before breaking down the formula, trying not to sweat under the ghost of your breath caressing his hand because of how close you are.

“Okay. I don’t think I quite got all that.”

“It’s okay,” Satoru replies with a slight smile as he adjusts his glasses on his nose before returning to the sheet. “You confused uncertainty with actual errors in measurement, and you tried to calculate exact values for both position & momentum, which isn’t possible.” He draws an example of throwing a ball vs. tracking an electron. “You can’t pin down a quantum particle perfectly — it’s like me trying to figure out what you’re thinking all the time. Impossible, right?”

“...Right.”

“You don’t understand anything, right?” he sighs, a slight frown curling his lips.

“Honestly? Not a word,” you chuckle, a soft, honest melody that caresses his ears.

“Let’s make it more real for you, prez, then,” he snorts too, wiping away a big smile that deepens his dimples. “Imagine you’re running around campus planning this big Spring Formal thing. If I try to track exactly where you are at one moment, I have no clue where you’ll be the next second. But if I focus on how fast you’re moving between meetings, I can guess you’ll end up in the library… but I won’t know the exact second you get there. That’s basically the Uncertainty Principle — can’t have both at the same time.”

“Ohhhh, okay!” you say, a light illuminating your face. But a second later, your features drop. “But, wait… that doesn’t make sense. If we have better tools, we can just measure both, right?”

He chuckles softly. “Nope. Even if we had the best measuring tools in the universe, the universe itself won’t let us know both at the same time. It’s not a technology problem — it’s just how nature works.”

You groan, frustrated, and slump over your notes. “Physics is pain.”

He shakes his head, a lighter smile blooming on his lips. “You’ll get it, I promise. You just need time… and a good tutor.”

“You?” You snicker, but not meanly — just teasing him in this mood that feels so comfortable with him, something you never thought you’d experience. “You’re losing me more than I was before.”

You both sigh after a while, and he gives you a practice exercise, which you rush to complete so he can correct it.

For the first time in maybe weeks, or even months, you haven’t felt this light. Quantum physics has always been a difficult challenge to overcome, despite your habit of planning everything to avoid stress. But sometimes, doing everything alone has led you to not ask for help when you needed it the most.

So when someone reached out and showed you how relieving some of that weight could feel, the sensation sparked a desire in you — one that didn’t want this to end.

But you’re afraid it will make you dependent.

So it’s best not to get too attached, right?

~~~~

The following week, even though your understanding of quantum physics has somewhat improved, your stress refuses to do anything but skyrocket toward a full-blown anxiety attack.

Principal Yaga summoned you to his office because some students — the two you expelled last week — went to complain about your nervous and excessive behavior, claiming it warranted psychological support.

Outraged, you defended yourself by pointing out the inefficiency of your team, who fail to meet your needs without considering the mental load that comes with your responsibility as the student council president. And yet, that wasn’t enough to calm Yaga, who dismissed you with a stern reminder that if you don’t finalize the Spring Formal preparations soon, he won’t hesitate to replace you with a more competent organizer.

The mere thought — no, the haunting fear—of being replaced like a cheap supermarket doll plagues your nights with nightmares.

So, the obvious anxiety growing inside you bleeds into the most crucial moments — the moments when you’re supposed to stay focused instead of silently wallowing in your situation.

“Need help, prez?”

Ripped from your daze, you lift your gaze to the voice beside you, only now realizing that he’s been sitting next to you since the start of the lecture — completely unnoticed, completely ignored.

It’s Satoru, his laptop open in front of him, a small, friendly smile turned toward you—and only you. That tiny detail sends a strange, foreign wave through your stomach — not unpleasant, though.

“Oh, you’re here,” you mumble, turning your attention back to the professor.

“Since the very start, yes,” he replies, his voice softer now, tinged with a faint hint of disappointment as he twirls his pencil between his long, nimble fingers.

A silence settles between you, neither of you seeming inclined to break it.

In the lecture hall, only the sound of keyboards clicking and the amplified voice of the professor fill the large room. You try your best to follow along, scribbling notes as diligently as you can, but at this point, it feels like trying to form words by randomly pressing keys — you understand nothing.

“Need help?”

You slowly lift your head toward the familiar voice.

“You can explain it to me later, you know?” you mutter, careful not to let anyone else overhear your conversation — it could cost you.

“And we could save time by explaining it now.” His tone is soft, rational, kind, altruistic — every synonym that embodies maturity and gentle responsibility.

He’s made of sugar. Just for you.

You sigh, finally giving in with a nod, as Satoru flips his laptop into tablet mode to explain the purpose of the chapter — the name of which you’ve only just learned, despite an hour and a half of lecture on Wave-Particle Duality.

“So,” he says, writing the formula on his tablet with a stylus. “The general concept is quite easy. Quantum objects — like electrons — can act as both particles and waves, okay?”

You nod, leaning in closer to his shoulder to observe the definitions of the formula’s terms — a faint scent brushes against your senses. Clean laundry and a subtle drop of cologne. The scent imprints itself in your lungs pleasantly enough that you have to mentally slap yourself to keep from getting distracted from Satoru’s explanations.

He glances at you with those sharp blue eyes and raises an eyebrow. “You know what wavelength means?”

“It’s just for light, right?”

He snorts quietly. “Particles.”

“Oh.”

He holds back another laugh and continues his explanations.

Several minutes later, you find your eyes glued — no, entranced — by Satoru, this nerd with glasses that hide a brain far too brilliant for you. Maybe even for the entire university.

You notice it in everything he does — setting aside his physical appearance, which you’re starting to find cuter and cuter without even realizing it — every cell of his body breathes science, logic, the thirst for discovery. His brain analyzes every possibility, his fingers manipulate rationality, and his glasses help him weigh the pros and cons. His long, straight nose gives him an infallible instinct, a sixth sense that never fails, and his smile — his pretty, thin, pink lips—illuminate hypotheses with a dangerously innocent charm.

But he himself doesn’t even realize it.

“See? It’s like… imagine if you could be both a super serious president and a total mess at physics at the same time. Oh wait — that’s already happening,” he teases, a playful, cute smile blooming on his lips as he glances at you with sparkles in his eyes.

Oh, that damn smile.

And without meaning to, you join in his laughter, covering your mouth with your palm so as not to be heard as, for the first time in weeks, a weight is lifted from your shoulders. The little analogy that might have irritated you a few days ago seems silly to you. Why do it when he’s here?

The bell rings, announcing the end of class, and the hubbub of the students urges you to put your things away as much as possible before the teacher gives you more homework than you already have just to understand the lecture.

With your bag slung over your shoulder, you make your way towards the exit, at the end of the herd of students who have made you lose sight of Satoru. A little disappointment contracts your heart, but after all, why should he be waiting for you? There was no need. You’re not friends. Just two students who are nice to each other (well, mostly Satoru).

So as you walk out of the lecture hall, you almost come face to face with a 6’3. Your nose collides painfully with a hard, bumpy surface — wait, of abs?

Impossible.

A hand much larger than yours wraps around your elbow to steady you and meets your eyes down on your wincing face.

“Oops, sorry,” Satoru apologizes as his smile evaporates. “Are you okay? I just wanted to wait for you.”

Was it abs?

“No worries, I'm fine,” you assure with a smile as self-conscious as it is forced, one hand rubbing your sore nose. “That's sweet.” Then you look away to calm the blush that spreads like a puddle from your neck to your scalp and pray it's unseen.

“You sure?” he insists with a concerned frown.

“...Sure.”

Once your face has cooled, your eyes stare at the spot on his torso where your nose collided. That flat spot under the shirt that appears a little less to you now, seen up close. It's as if with every swell of his breath, you can see the beginnings of an abdominal bulge, but you shake your head to get this far-fetched idea out of your head.

Letting your hand fall back, you offer him a more confident smile and lead the way. “Shall we?”

With a slower nod, he follows you.

To bridge the silence between the two of you in the deserted corridors, you nudge him in the ribs and say, “You know, I still don’t get how you find physics fun.”

He feigns pain and smirks — does he only smile when he’s with you?

“I don’t find it fun, strictly speaking, but really very interesting. At least, enough to make me face my major.” He pauses to give you a teasing look. “And I still don’t get how you survive on four hours of sleep.”

“I am a vampire,” you grin stupidly, “I love working at night. I feel productive.”

“I see that. Your bags speak for you,” he chortles.

“For real?” you mouth, running your fingers over your dark circles as if to check his words when it makes more sense to look in the mirror rather than feel you up.

“Just joking,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze on the floor a second before looking up back at you. “But you seem very stressed lately, am I wrong?”

You don’t answer right away, reluctant to tell him about your doubts and what’s been bothering you for weeks. But you can. This is just two friends from the same quantum physics class strolling around campus at the end of a long day, isn’t it?

But maybe not close enough for him to be really interested in you? Maybe he’s just asking questions out of politeness and not out of any real concern for you. After all, you’re not really close.

“It's alright, just uni and student council stuff, as always,” you murmur with averted eyes. “We also need to plan our next tutoring session.”

“Yeah...” Satoru shoves his hands in his pockets and lets silence fill the gap between the two of you before resuming. “Maybe we could do it somewhere else this time, couldn’t we?” he offers without much hope in his voice.

You knit your brows. “What?”

“I mean... do you—uh, never mind.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Huh?”

He seems to chicken out and look away but you catch it before he could hide it — the tips of his ears are red.

“Nothing. Just... you’re really into this whole Spring Formal thing, huh?” he mumbles.

“Of course. I have a lot of work to do on it. But what were you asking me?” you insist with a softer tone and your hand wrapping around his arm — remarkably built, you note internally.

He finally twists his neck toward you to face you, lips pursed into a conflicted pout.

“You’re going to refuse.”

“You didn’t even try to ask,” you almost in a mid gasp and chuckle.

He runs a hand through his tousled snowy hair, then slips it around the back of his neck, rubbing it like a nervous tic. “I see that you’re stressed — even if you deny it. So would you accept to... maybe do work on our tutoring lessons in a better place?” He panics slightly under your unfathomable gaze, just waiting for the next part of his words. “I mean... I know a place where it could be less stressful and more relaxing because you deserve it... But of course,” he adds hastily, “it doesn’t commit you to anything and you don’t have to accept and we can totally carry on doing it at the library because really it’s just a stupid idea and I should just keep my mouth shut—”

“Satoru.”

His heart stops beating and he thinks his brain has short-circuited as he realizes it’s the first time you've said his first name in that tone.

Softly, reassuringly, and with obvious joy.

“Of course I’d like to work with you somewhere else. It means a lot to me that you thought of me like that,” you say softly as you stop in front of some stairs so you can look him straight in the eye. “I can give you my phone number and you’ll just have to send me the address, how’s that?”

Okay. His brain really has just short-circuited.

He doesn’t even remember how he managed to hand you his phone and record your number, wish you a good evening and return to his dormitory after being subjected to your beaming smile — of a particular radiance he’s never seen before on your face in all the time, however long, he’s spent gazing at you wherever you are — radiant even.

Lying on his bed, he stares at the ceiling. The silent night allows his thoughts to grow louder, as if several were trying to express themselves at once.

However, one image takes root in his eyelids when he closes them before sleeping.

You.

~~~~

“You shouldn’t have.”

“Do you really need to make this even more embarrassing?”

You shake your head. “It’s not fair.”

His features sag, and he lets out a tiny sigh. “Just please, accept it. I made it for you.”

At your feet lies a picnic blanket with red and white checkered patterns. On top of it are homemade sandwiches, cans of fruit juice, berries, cakes, and even a tub of ice cream resting inside a mini cooler. Satoru has even arranged the space to avoid a chaotic mess while working and has brought ultra-comfortable cushions to make the tutoring session as pleasant as possible.

He can’t do this.

Not with you, who arrived at the quiet, sparsely crowded city park, right under the most magnificent Japanese cherry blossom tree.

The cool breeze blows gently around you both, sweeping away a few strands of your hair that you’re forced to tuck behind your ears.

“Sit your ass down,” Satoru mumbles, looking away to hide an obvious embarrassment, though his hand pats the empty space he left just for you.

So, reluctantly, you sit cross-legged, grabbing a random sandwich — just so he won’t sulk — and try not to cry because it’s so ridiculously delicious. The berries couldn’t be fresher or juicier than any you’ve ever tasted, and not to mention the cakes he brought. The majority of the food is sweet — his sweet tooth showing up a little too obviously.

“Hope it tastes good,” he adds, his lips forming a slight pout.

“Never ate something that good,” you respond, mouth full of food. “You’re an angel.”

The word makes him freeze for a solid thirty seconds before he shakes his head and lets his gaze drift away — always avoiding — toward the nearby lake.

The ground is sprinkled with pale pink petals, blending into the vibrant green grass of this March afternoon. A few birds chirp in the distance, hardly anyone comes near your secluded spot, and the peaceful silence reigning over the park creates the perfect environment for getting work done.

Swallowing his own mochi, Satoru watches you take out your notes on the latest physics chapter, and instead of sitting across from you, he allows himself to settle beside you this time — without you pulling away.

He was hesitant from the start and may never be able to stop feeling nervous around you. No matter how often he’s around you or how much more familiar he grows with your presence, he can’t control those sudden spikes of nervousness that hit when he’s already comfortable — only for one small action or movement to give his poor little heart a crisis.

You hand him the exercises you worked on last night, and while he reviews them, you take out your planner and notepad — the ones you carry everywhere (even to bed and the bathroom)—to go over the organization of the upcoming Spring Formal.

An event that’s happening soon. An event with absolutely nothing planned yet.

You quietly jot down notes on possible themes, but after another glance at the endless, sprawling branches of the massive cherry tree, you sigh and toss your notepad aside onto the picnic blanket. No ideas in sight. You have no choice but to admit your incompetence. Your failure is inevitable.

“Here.” Satoru hands you back your corrected exercises, and you quickly scan through them.

Since the beginning of your sessions with him, you have to admit — you’ve improved.

This time, there are fewer scribbles and corrections from Satoru. Your formulas and applications are more precise, clearer, and better developed. All thanks to your hard work and Satoru’s expert guidance — the science genius himself.

There are still some non-negligible mistakes to fix, but at least the encouraging smile from your tutor warms your chest, silently telling you that you’re on the right track.

“This is really not bad,” he murmurs softly near your shoulder. “You’re seriously improving.”

“Thanks to my good tutor,” you reply, nudging him playfully with your elbow.

“What flattery. I don’t deserve this much.” Yet his so-called humility is betrayed by the deep red blush dusting his ears.

“Quite the opposite. I wish I could pay you back somehow.”

“You don’t need to. I told you it was my pleasure to help you.”

“And I feel bad about it,” you confess in a whisper.

“Don’t,” he insists — and dares to wrap his slightly trembling, warm hand over yours on the blanket.

Your heart flutters, like a butterfly trying to take flight, only to be tossed around by the wind.

“Thank you,” you whisper, with more honesty than you’ve ever given anyone.

“For being a good friend? Don’t worry, I’m glad to have you as well, honestly,” he murmurs back, punctuating his words with a light squeeze of your hand.

“And I—” he clears his throat, “...really appreciate you.”

Friends. Appreciate you.

“I appreciate you too. Really. I’m sorry if I mess up every move you try with me to help me,” you add with an apologetic smile. “Stress always ruins my life.”

“I told you that you couldn't deny it.” He raises his eyebrows and lift up an uncertain arm — seeing you not reacting has reassured him enough to pluck up the courage to pass it around you to console you. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

You let yourself go against him, burying half your face against him. “I’m in deep shit about organizing the Spring Formal. I haven’t prepared anything, I have no idea, and yet I’ve got plenty to do. Mr. Yaga warned me that he might replace me if I went on like this, and I feel like everything’s going to shit,” you say in a breath, a tiny barrier of vulnerability cracking.

His arm tightens in an attempt at comfort. He nods slowly, inhaling long breaths of fresh air before making a clicking sound with his tongue.

“Where’s your notepad?”

You hand it to him without protest, and he immediately grabs it and flips through it. Then, when he finds a blank page, he grabs a pen lying near the two of you and jots down a few sentences, the words of which you can only read when he hands you the notebook.

“An alignment of the planets?” You raise a curious, surprised eyebrow.

He nods with his chin and sketches a smile.

“It only happens in spring, practically. And there will be one before long.” He squeezes his arm around you again and chuckles. “A theme about planets might be nice, don’t you think?”

Lips parted, you gaze into the azure sky. Himself a little disarmed by your lack of reaction, he frowns without giving up his smile and softly pronounces your first name.

With zero control over your movements, there’s nothing to stop your lips from pressing tenderly against Satoru’s smooth, soft cheek — a firm but gentle kiss leaving an invisible, indelible trace on his radiant skin as you pull away to look into his eyes again.

“You're an angel,” you repeat a second time.

Well, the second time too, when Satoru’s heart, no longer knowing how to beat, simply stops beating.

~~~~

“Move them a little more to the right— Yes, that’s perfect.”

Your trusty notepad clutched against your chest, you admire the preparations unfolding in the venue for the upcoming Spring Formal, where the theme of planetary alignment is set to make this year’s university event truly unforgettable.

Finally, you’re no longer spending your time yelling at your team and barking orders fueled by the vibrant sparks of your stress. Instead, you’re giving clear instructions, each one accompanied by an encouraging smile for everyone.

“Maybe we could add midnight blue velvet curtains,” Satoru suggests, leaning over your shoulder, his chest brushing pleasantly against your back as he glances at the list of missing decoration orders. “We could stick fake stars on them, and it’ll draw more attention to the planets. What do you think?”

“I like the idea,” you giggle, despite the way your insides somersault when his warm breath grazes your ear, sending waves of goosebumps down your skin. You jot down a few notes as Satoru leans in even closer, gently resting his chin on your shoulder. “Not surprising, coming from the quantum physics genius of the entire university.”

Even though there’s nothing official between you — not if you ignore the feelings and trust that make Satoru more confident and relaxed in your presence — nor any concrete relationship, the warm intimacy settling between you two is anything but uncomfortable.

It’s like a mutual friendship, fully acknowledged by both of you, yet intertwined with threads of love left unspoken — often betrayed by moments of closeness like this one.

“You’re gonna make me blush again,” he admits with a light laugh, soft and delicate as a cherry blossom petal.

“Oh yeah?” You turn your head toward his — just enough for your faces to be so close that the tips of your noses brush. “Why?”

He sighs, fluttering his eyes closed for a brief moment before opening them again. “You know why…”

“I’m clueless when it comes to guessing thoughts, my hot nerd tutor,” you coo, a little grin spreading across your lips — those same lips he wanted to kiss until he couldn’t breathe anymore for the rest of his life.

“Maybe I could show you, then.” And gently, he places his hands around your waist, an easy, soothing smile on his face. “Is that okay if I do that?” After your nod, his smile grows even wider. “Also, could we do our next session at my place? I can’t stay at the library today because my mom is waiting for a package while she’s at work, so she asked me to take care of it.”

“Of course.” You take note of his suggestion while the rest of your team rushes to decorate the room and move boxes — some opened, some not. Then, you turn back to him, feeling the slight tremor of his hands against your body, the way the blood rushes alarmingly fast to his face, and how his eyes avoid yours.

“Blushing?” you giggle.

“You’re not embarrassed? I mean— It’s my place, not my dorm or the library, you know,” he mumbles.

You graze a kiss on his soft cheek and grin. “You’re freaking cute.”

“I’m not joking,” he whines lowly, a small, worried furrow forming between his brows.

“As am I.” You give his arm a little squeeze. “Everything’s gonna be alright. I don’t mind having you all alone in your house, though.”

And you burst into laughter when he chokes on his own saliva at your words — having never seen someone turn so red before.

~~~~

“I knew you liked physics, but not that much.”

Before coming to set foot in Satoru’s room for the first time, you expected to be dealing with a simple, uncluttered, organized room, and above all far more filled with bookcases overflowing with books rather than...

...the opposite.

Stepping into Satoru’s room feels like entering a nerdy galaxy of controlled chaos. His desk is cluttered with thick physics textbooks, some stacked neatly, others left open mid-read, pages filled with complex equations you can’t even begin to understand. Among them, a few manga volumes peek out, half-hidden like a guilty pleasure. Above, a whiteboard covered in messy formulas and doodles dominates the wall, the marker strokes chaotic but somehow full of purpose. His ceiling is scattered with glow-in-the-dark stars, forming actual constellations if you look closely, and a floating moon lamp sat on his nightstand, casting a soft glow over his unmade bed.

Everywhere you turn, there is something to mess with — a plasma ball that lit up at your touch, a Newton’s Cradle clicking rhythmically on his desk, even a weird futuristic clock displaying time in some incomprehensible format. His monitors hum with life, one running a sci-fi screensaver while another had what looks like a physics simulation he’d probably forgotten about. 

And yet, despite the overwhelming nerd energy, it was… comfortable. Lived-in. A place where ideas sparked and theories came to life — exactly what you could imagine his space would be if you’d thought things through a bit more.

“Wow,” you murmur, entranced. “It’s… just beautiful. Like a museum.”

“Heh? You’re flattering me really too much,” he chuckles nervously, scratching his neck where his undercut is. “But I’m glad if you like it. I want you to feel home,” he adds softly.

“Home?” You turn to him with a slightly embarrassed and moved smile. “You’re my home, actually.”

Nothing you say makes sense. Your racing heart lets your mouth babble nonsense and scare Satoru away. You’re far too embarrassing—

“I feel the same for you.”

Like a needle piercing a balloon, your vital organ explodes in your chest.

The next second, your brain regains control and orders your legs to move towards him, until your torsos brush against each other and your breaths mingle, giving birth to a gentle flame that burns only to be consumed.

Satoru whispers your name. “Can I try something?” he mouths.

You nod imperceptibly, your gaze lost in his ocean eyes.

Tenderly and with the most delicate gentleness, he cups your cheeks, tilting your head so that your face faces directly forehead to his. So close, you have a detailed view of the number of his light eyelashes, the different shades of blue mingling in his irises, the pleasant warmth of his tepid breath against you.

Then, his lips brush yours first, as if testing your reaction. But when your fingers latch onto his light-brown V-neck sweater, he feels the pressure rise in his blood and slowly, but suddenly, crushes his lips against yours.

It’s not rushed — just a soft press of lips, tentative, almost careful. As if he's afraid of breaking something fragile. So to encourage him, you sigh softly in contentment, then tilt your head the slightest bit to fit better, closer... Your hands remain gently clasped to his sweater.

He seems to get your message, because the next thing you know, he’s relaxing, moving more slowly and comfortably against yours. The world outside that moment doesn’t exist. Just him, just this — his lips, softer than you expected, the careful way he kisses you, as if he is memorizing every second of it. Time stretches thin, and even when you finally pull apart, neither of you move far.

Slowly, you open your eyes, only to find him already looking at you. His gaze is different now — quieter, warmer, like he is seeing you in a way he never had before.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The silence is soft, not awkward, filled with a kind of understanding that doesn’t need words. And then, just barely above a whisper, Satoru exhales a quiet, shaky laugh.

“Oh.”

Just that — like he hasn’t expected this, like he’s still processing the fact that it happened at all. And maybe it’s the way he looks at you, stunned and a little breathless, or maybe it’s just the warmth still lingering between you, but you find yourself smiling, a tiny, barely-there curve of your lips.

“Yeah,” you murmur back, voice quieter and warmer than you intended.

Neither of you moved away. Not yet.

You lower your head, a hot flush creeping up your cheeks and neck, and that's when you also understand where his “oh” is coming from.

Oh.

While he turns away to hide his face in his hands and prays to be buried in a grave on the spot, you burst out laughing — a frank, non-judgmental laugh. Simply savoring this pleasant moment with him (albeit with one small problem).

“Just with a kiss? Satoru, I swear you’re the cutest!” you continue to laugh, half-folding with your arms hugging your belly.

“It’s not f-funny!” And the poor guy doesn’t even dare turn around as he adjusts his pants, which is where his “problem” lies.

Smiling, you move closer to him, your lips still prickling from the perfect kiss. One of your hands slips to his shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he mumbles, hiding his face again from your sight.

“It is,” you insist, wrapping your hand around his wrist to look at him. “I’m not judging you, I swear. It’s not like you can control that, is it?”

“I know, but— It’s so embarrassing. I feel like a poor virgin nerd that — well, It’s not like I am not but—”

You freeze, slowly losing your smile. “Wait… you’re a virgin?”

He nods, a little shameful pout creasing his lips.

“I—” you trail off. Taking a short breath, you lower yourself a little more to look at him as he covers his crotch with one hand. “I can help you with that, you know.”

His eyes widen, heart hammering in his rib cage. “W-What?”

An umpteenth laugh shakes your chest. “I mean, yeah. I don’t mind and I like you.” Then an idea pops into your head, like a lamp regaining its light. “Like, it would make up for the effort you put into helping me get good grades. What do you think?”

He straightens abruptly and gently but firmly pushes your hand away by the wrist. A serious look despite his embrace adds.

“No way. I already told you I don’t want anything in return.”

“But it’s just to please you,” you insist, flickering your eyes. “Don’t you want to know how it feels?” You take a few steps forward until you can wrap your arms around his perfect torso — the ideal balance of slim and muscular.

Your chin rests on his breastbone, a little imploring pout on your lips.

“C’mon, just an oral, I promise. I want to return the favor.”

He swallows hard, lips parted as if the words are stuck somewhere between embarrassment and want. His gaze flickers between your face and the floor, a mix of reluctance and curiosity in his eyes.

“But I—” His voice cracks slightly, a nervous laugh escaping him. “I don’t know what I’m doing…”

You smile, a quiet, knowing smile, and slide your fingers slowly down his arm, your touch lingering on his skin. “It’s okay,” you say, your breath barely above a whisper. “I’ll guide you.”

You can see him shiver at the words, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You take your time, moving in closer, making sure to leave no space between you. Your lips brush against his jaw, a delicate kiss that makes his entire body stiffen for a split second. He doesn’t pull away, though, and that’s enough to encourage you to go further.

“Just relax,” you tease, pulling back slightly to look up at him. “I promise I’m not going to bite.”

“I know, I just need to sit a bit,” he whispers, a wave of uncertainty in his eyes.

You pull away from him, feeling the palpable tension between the two of you. “Of course.” You take his hand in yours and guide him onto his bed. When he sits down on the mattress, you find yourself kneeling between his legs.

As your hands busily unzip his straight gray twill pants, you maintain eye contact. “Tell me if it’s too much or if you wanna stop, okay love?”

Love.

He nods gently, his elbows pressed into the softness of the mattress to get a view of your movements without him lying down completely. Lips trembling, Satoru feels obliged to bite them to calm himself as the heat almost suffocates him while all he has left is his boxer shorts hiding his growing erection under the thin fabric.

You can feel the air thickening between you, charged with the kind of quiet intensity that makes your pulse race. Your fingertips wrap around the waistband of his boxers and tug them down gently, letting the fabric rub against his length while he’s hissing.

“Sweetheart—”

“Relax, I’m just getting started,” you chuckle fondly.

When the underwear is pulled down, his erection springs free, slamming on his half-covered abdomen. The poor little thing, left alone, twitches painfully — dragging sounds like cute and innocent whimpers from Satoru — like it’s begging for your touch for a decade.

You curl your lips together, genuinely stunned by his size. 7 inches isn’t nothing.

“So you’re packing this from the start?”

“I— No…” He sighs, clenching his jaw as his eyes flutter closed. “Please, it’s already embarrassing.”

“But why? You’re beautiful, Satoru. And I’m not talking about your dick,” you snort. Your gentle, affectionate tone makes Satoru forget how to breathe and open his eyes again. “You’re beautiful on the inside too.”

“You’re only flattering—”

“I am not,” you state firmly, getting up from your knees to straddle his hips and cup his cheeks until they puff like mochi’s and he’s pouting.

Fucking adorable.

“Have you ever been into a relationship?” you whisper after pecking a kiss on the corner of his lips.

He shakes his head, stuttering a no.

“So  can I call you mine? Because I’d be yours if I could,” you mutter next to his jaw where you peck another kiss that makes him shiver and grip your hips with his hands.

He opens his mouth to say something and hesitates. “A-Are you sure?” he asks, eyes filled with doubt. ‘I’m a nerd and—”

“And my type is nerd guys,” you cut him off before pulling him into a passionate kiss. He gasps, tightening his grip on your as his lips gently taste your and steal his breath away. “I love you, Satoru.”

“Love you more. Since the first time I laid my eyes on you,” he murmurs back between kisses, eyelids shut.

You slightly pull away, a smile springing to your lips. “Pinning on me for so long? Aw, sorry to have been blind for this long too, then.”

He resists the urge to take you in his arms and lets you back down onto your knees, this time with his oversensitive cock throbbing in your hands as you begin to stroke it up and down, base to tip with all the slowness you can manage so as not to make him cum too quickly.

Satoru’s hips jerk up instantly, his chest rising and lowering because of his stuttering breath.

“Your hands feel so good and soft,” he whispers, sliding his big hands up to your shoulders, which he gently massages to relax you too. What a gentleman. “So much better than mine…”

“Yeah? You like it?” Eager to please him for his first time, you place a kiss on his angry red tip, licking a little strop with the tip of your own tongue.

“Hgn— easy,” he pants, hands shaking slightly as they interrupt their massages on your shoulders when yours lead them on your head, tangled with your locks. “What are you—”

“You can use my hair, if you want.” And you punctuate your words by taking his length back between your hands and kiss the fat head. It twitches in response, stealing little giggles from your sweet lips. Beads of precum leak along his length, helping you to wet him enough to stroke him faster as you part your lips and slide them down the length of him.

Satoru’s breath hitches when you take him, sucking in slow, deep strokes as your hand grips the base of him. You pull back slightly, your lips sliding back up, and you hear him groan, a sound that makes you ache. You repeat the motion, taking him deeper, sucking harder as you run your tongue along the underside of his cock, feeling him twitch in your mouth before you pull back again.

“Feel good?” you ask sweetly.

“You’re perfect,” he breathes out — even whimpering in neediness, “thank you so much…” His hands tighten in your hair, pulling you even closer, but it’s not enough.

You don’t stop. Instead, you take him deeper, your lips tightening around him as you move faster, the sound of your mouth on his cock filling the room, drowning out everything else. Satoru’s breath grows shallow, irregular, his body starting to tense, his legs flexing as he tries to hold back.

But you can feel it. The way he is so close, the way his body is winding tighter with every flick of your tongue. His fingers pulled at your hair, unsure to guide you just how he wants because what you were doing is already something he’ll owe you all his entire life — he is desperate, needing his release.

“F-Fuck,” he stutters, fingers digging in your scalp deliciously for you pleasure. “I love you, but please, g’nna—”

“—cum? Yeah, do it, love,” you purr affectionately as you teasingly suck his sensitive tip until he’s whining and fighting for his hips to not thrust up and hurt you.

He is there — at the edge — his cock twitching in your mouth, and you know he can’t hold on much longer. With one last deep, slow pull, he cums, his hips jerking as he releases into your mouth with a long, desperate groan. You swallow every drop, sucking him clean, your hands gently massaging his thighs as he slowly comes down from the high.

Satoru’s breath is ragged, his body shuddering as he slowly opens his eyes. He looks at you like you’re some sort of angel from heaven, and you smile, wiping the corner of your mouth before standing up.

“Feel better?” you ask teasingly, your voice light despite the heat still pooling in your stomach.

He sighs deeply, rubbing his eyes before carefully sitting up and hugs you in a tight embrace. He blows kisses all over your face, murmuring thank yous and how much he loves you and you find yourself in awe.

“You’re welcome, it’s the least that I can do for you, after all.” You press a big, firm, and sincere kiss on his cheek, and cannot stop smiling.

~~~~

The main room is bathed in a deep blue, soft, ambient light, the atmosphere almost otherworldly. Stars shimmer faintly on the walls, and delicate, hanging lanterns cast a stunning cold glow, like constellations scattered across the ceiling. The whole room seems alive, breathing with energy, as guests drift through the space, their laughter and chatter blending into a gentle hum.

At the center of the hall are huge telescopes, available for anyone curious enough to observe tonight’s planet alignment. The most important event of the Spring Formal.

Around the perimeter, tables are set with shimmering candles, their flames flickering softly, casting shadows on the faces of the students who’ve come to admire the setup. The smell of roses and lavender lingers in the air, mixing with the faint scent of freshly baked treats at the snack table. It feels like a dream — a celebration of the night sky brought to life.

Satoru stands beside you, his hand lightly brushing against yours as you both take in the beauty of the room. His smile is small but warm, his gaze drifting from the decorations to the crowd. There’s an unspoken pride in the way he looks at you, knowing you had a hand in making all of this happen, bringing the theme of the planets to life with such care.

“This is... perfect,” he says, voice soft but full of admiration. His words are simple, but they carry weight. You feel a soft warmth settle in your chest at the sincerity in his tone.

A small smile blooms on your lips. “Yeah…” you agree, turning to face him fully, now a grin spreading across your face. “It really turned out great. Thanks to you.”

His cheeks tint pink at the praise, and he shrugs, trying to act nonchalant, but the pride in his eyes is unmistakable.

“You really made this all come together,” he says, voice full of admiration. “It’s amazing.”

For a moment, you simply smile at each other, a comfortable silence settling between you. The warmth of his gaze makes your heart flutter in your chest.

“Want to dance?” you ask, already knowing his answer, but wanting to ask all the same.

He hesitates for a moment, that same shy, unsure side of him creeping back, but the smile on his lips says everything.

“Yeah,” he says, his hand finding yours once again, this time with more confidence. “I’d love to.”

As you both step onto the dance floor, the lights change again, and for a moment, the two of you are surrounded by the glow of the stars and lanterns, your bodies moving to the soft music that fills the room. It’s not a fast, frantic dance — just slow and gentle, like you’re in your own little world. You feel the gentle sway of the music, and the weight of everything around you fades, leaving just the two of you in perfect harmony.

Maybe it’s the magic of the planets aligning, or maybe it’s just him — but either way, you think, you wouldn’t mind orbiting around Gojo Satoru a little longer.

a/n: there we go! I AM DRAINED BC OF SCHOOL AND COURSES GUIDANCE BC LAW IS SO HARDDDD!! hum hum, beside that, i hope you guys had a nice week and that you are all taking care of your little faces (if not i'm gonna do it for you). writing this felt like... refreshing? i mean, nerdjo is the little mochi i'm eating when i go to the supermarket lol. and gosh, he's so cute that i'm going crazy haha.

reblogs, comments, and likes are very appreciated as always <3

also, this is how i pictured this cutie pie:

tags: @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wisheclairr @sanemistar @monokaix

[meowdei]

if you hold me without hurting me (you’ll be the first who ever did) — ft. sylus

synopsis: sylus is too causal with accepting pain. you don’t like seeing him hurt, so the best solution you can come up with is seeing him in pleasure

❤︎ word count: 2.4k words — it’s a miracle i kept it this short

❤︎ before you read: female hunter reader ; mature content. not suitable for minors ; not an established relationship but implied romantic connection. idk it’s complicated LOL ; injured sylus ; described blood and injuries ; evol inhibitors to make his injuries a bit more serious ; not proof read : hand jobs ; banter ; that’s pretty much it just wanted to write him cumming

❤︎ comments: i am posting this 3 mins before i need to leave for work this man has me hustling before my hustle rip

The safe house is quiet. Not including the sounds of Sylus’s low, pained grunts as you dress his wounds, it’s quiet. You’re quiet, and it’s unsettling—on a typical day, you’re more than half the noise.

(In a good way, of course. Sylus is not a liar by any means, and saying he doesn’t like the constant sound of your voice as you talk would be a ridiculously big lie. He values the truth in things.)

It means you’re brooding. Sulky, petulant brooding. He’ll just have to fix that, he thinks—and soon, too.

“I’ll have to trouble you a bit longer, sweetheart,” he murmurs, breaking the silence as he glances at his arm.

You glance up and stare at the damage: a stab wound to his abdomen, a gash on his arm, and ugly, unwelcome bruises littering across soft, slightly tanned skin.

You frown. It borders on a scowl. He watches as you carefully stitch the wound closed on his lower belly with precise fingers. (Faintly, his mind registers that you’re good at this. Too good at this. He doesn’t like the implications of that—not for his own case and especially not for yours.)

“Does it hurt?” You mumble, finally.

Sylus is not a liar by any means, so he hums, titling your chin up and forcing you to pause. “Yes,” he says truthfully. You’d never guess he was in pain just by the look on his face—but there are always signs if you look close enough.

Sticky, sweaty skin. Deep, labored breaths. Slumped posture that’s so far from his usual tall, towering stance. He looks just a bit tired, too. Like sleeping (something he rarely does enough to be considered healthy) would be his ideal course of action right now.

You frown at his admission. “I told you not to get so close,” you huff, “you never wait for me.”

He chuckles. Deep, slow. Every time Sylus laughs, you’re reminded how powerful he is. How even through the sound of his amusement alone, he sounds important. Wealthy, too, if you’re being honest—he laughs like the rich. But that’s always amused you more than it’s impressed.

“You seem rather distraught, love. Dare I say….you’re concerned?”

“You’re too smart to act this stupid,” you spit.

He grins. It’s large, wide, and all too smug for someone who’s under your hands as you mend back torn skin. Gently, he hums, “so the kitten bears her fangs. How cute.”

Your mood is getting increasingly worse. Sylus knows that—but sometimes, he’s a little selfish. Pushing you harder, cornering you against the wall with smart words and sly teasing is the only way to make you open up sometimes.

And, well, Sylus is no liar. He can’t say he hates getting under your skin entirely—it makes you look at him. And he likes your attention. But more than that, he likes knowing you care.

“You don’t think I’m capable,” you accuse, narrowing your eyes.

“And when did I say that, Miss Hunter?”

“You don’t have to say it, I just know. Otherwise, you’d listen when I tell you to wait,” comes your agitated reply.

Sylus does not wait for you. He jumps into a fight without letting you step foot onto the battlefield. Most times, it’s a minor form of irritation on your end when you’re itching to get in a good few hits. Sometimes, like now, it makes your emotions saturated in every form of distress.

Anger. Sadness. Regret. Panic. All of it simmers and simmers until you feel you’re overflowing with something you can’t quite put your finger on.

He pays the price today—one sloppy dodge of a blade, and it impales his lower abdomen with precision, lacing him with something. Something that evidently is rather good at repressing his evol—he can’t fight nearly as well let alone heal.

You can’t help but feel useless. More than anything, under appreciated. Maybe, if he’d waited just a moment so you could have covered him, then maybe your night would end with less blood on your hands and less pain on his.

“You’re also too bright to act this dim,” he says lowly, voice just a bit tight with pain. You tighten his stitches, and he doesn’t even grimace despite the clearly unpleasant sensation.

“Do tell me,” you glare, “just what am I being dim about?”

“If you think I don’t recognize your capabilities,” he drawls, studying the knife that once tore through his flesh slowly. It’ll be analyzed at the base. You’re certain he’ll figure out just what the blade was laced with and trace it back to its origins soon enough. He sets it down and meets your eyes—deep, rich crimson bleeding into your gaze. “Then maybe you’re not as good at seeing the bigger picture as I thought.”

“That you’re a smug bastard who likes to prove you’re better on your own?”

“That I care about you,” he says plainly. “I can handle it. It’s better you than me.”

“You could have died,” you hiss, “if I wasn’t there—”

“I’d have lived either way,” he says smugly. “Killing me is a rather difficult thing to do. Inflicting pain, on the other hand….well, at least it keeps things interesting.”

Your face drops. Not because he’s wrong, but because he’s so right. You can injure him all you want, but he heals fast enough that he’s here to stay. Like an annoying thorn that keeps pricking you as you pick roses. Like a weed that just keeps growing back the more you tear them from the ground. He comes back. Annoying as he is, he comes back. And you don’t mind that so much—you think you might even need it that way.

But it always hurts. He bleeds red just like any other person. Grimaces here and there despite how accustomed he is to the agony. Somewhere along the line, his pain became yours.

And you can’t help but be hyper aware of how much you despise it.

“I hate when you’re hurt,” you whisper.

“I’ll live,” he soothes, cupping your cheek and swiping a stray tear with a large, callused thumb. You shiver, pouting slightly at the words. “I’ve had worse.”

“But you still feel the pain.”

“Can anyone really avoid that, sweetie?” He raises an amused brow.

Before he can open his mouth to add more, you lean closer, careful not to hurt his wound as you press against his chest and bury your head into his neck, pressing a light kiss to the skin.

His breath hitches, and you think you’ve finally gotten through that thick, stubborn front of his.

“If it hurts,” you murmur, “then I can make it feel good.”

He shivers—barely, of course. But he shivers. It’s a small win. “Oh?” He asks carefully, his good arm curling around your waist to keep you in place. “And how so?”

You press a lingering kiss to his jaw. Your lips are not strangers to Sylus. They know him as well as he knows them too, but you’ve always danced along the edge of more than friends and less than lovers. One second, you think you’ve crossed over the line with graceful steps, the next you fall ten steps back.

Right now, you think you don’t care. Line be damned and whether you’re just friends or lovers, you couldn’t be more unbothered.

“I don’t like when people touch you,” you admit, “not at all. But especially not so….rough.”

“Mmh, jealous are we? Don’t worry, you’re the only one I willingly let touch me,” he grins. You roll your eyes, watching as he shuffles back to lean against the couch and relax.

“I should be the only one who touches you,” you say with an air of petulance.

“Yes, yes,” he agrees, placating your mood, “then show me something more gentle,” he whispers.

You smile. It’s the first one of the night, lips curling against the shell of his ear as you breathe, “oh I intend to.”

Just like that, your hand trails up his thigh, carefully tracing along the inner edge of his leg before your palm roams over his crotch. There’s a bulge forming as if on command. Your ego boosts just a little—for all his strength and endurance, one brief, mere little touch from you forces his body to react against his will.

“Is this really where you should be putting in all your effort?” His breath hitches, and the tips of his ears flush a pretty, soft little pink, “my arm still has an open wound, you know.”

“You’ve had worse,” you repeat his words back to him, “but let me show you better.”

It’s quick work, unblocking his belt and unzipping him just enough to gently pull out his half-hard cock. You glance down, smiling at the small bead of pre cum that leaks from the tip, forming a kind little opportunity for you to watch him squirm as your thumb grazes his cockhead to collect it.

You smear it along his length as you slowly stroke him to full hardness, and he offers you a shaky little huffed out, “fuck,” under his breath.

“Does that hurt, too?” You hum, nose pressing into his jaw as you kiss his neck.

“No,” he sighs, melting into you, “no it feels so good. Don’t stop.”

“Do you see how nice it is when you just trust me?” You scold, “now apply this to the battlefield, too.”

He chuckles deeply at that, closing his eyes and fighting the urge to fuck his hips into your fist—his stitches are still fragile enough that he doesn’t want to risk tearing them. Instead, he has to trust that you’ll give him what he needs, all on your own.

“I’d rather get hurt and be spoiled like this,” he mumbles, “than risk anything happing to you. Seems like a better option if you ask me.”

“So stubborn,” you click your teeth.

Sylus is not a liar. You know that. If he says you’re capable, then you believe him—and if he says that he’d rather take the brunt of injuries and the pain that comes with them just to finish a fight before you can be involved, you know it’s not a lie. But you don’t always like the truth. You don’t like knowing he uses himself as a shield of sorts for you, as some wall between you and pain or maybe even death just because he can. Just because he heals. Just because he thinks he should.

You don’t always like the truth. Sometimes, you’d rather live in a lie.

So you tell yourself he thinks you’re less than him. That you’re lacking and beneath his approval and you have something to prove—so your hand tightens around his thick, reddened cock and you stroke fast. Quick and to the point.

Enough to have him groaning with an arm instinctively moving to cover his eyes as he throws his head back—only he hisses, feeling the stinging tug on his gash as he moves.

You hum, guiding his arm back down as you cup his cheek and murmur, “careful now. You’re hurt—I wonder whose fault that is.”

He rolls his eyes at the comment—but one swipe of your thumb through his slit has them rolling back in pleasure before he can glare at you. “You’re rather smug today,” he huffs, “do you like seeing me defenseless, sweetheart?”

“Not for the reasons you might think,” you say sweetly, grinning as you peck his cheek. Right where you cut him the first time you met. Right where you think you’ll always have to soothe so he knows you didn’t mean it.

Not anymore, at least.

“You’re far from the innocent kitten you seem to be,” he grins, huffing out a soft laugh as it tapers off into a light, breathy moan.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes.”

“Enough to make you forget the pain?”

“Oh yes,” he grins. Suddenly, a wave of red wraps around your hand and forces your grip to tighten. “I’ve forgotten I was injured at all.”

His evol, you realize—it’s back.

You stare at the gash on his arm—crimson on crimson as the flurry of his power replaces the blood, leaving behind soft, healthy skin. Not a scar left behind. Not a trace of pain. Not even a faint line of where torn flesh mended together and became new.

He’s had worse, you remember. And he comes back from it every damn time.

Still, you think—you’re going to give him better.

“I don’t want you hurting because of me,” you breathe, leaning into his chest and pressing your weight against him without worry, now. Your hand fists his shirt as his arms wrap around you and keep you close.

Your hand glides along his girth between your bodies, working him up slowly, slowly, slowly until it all feels like it’ll come crashing down all at once. His breath hitches as he lets out a light groan of your name.

It sounds pretty on his tongue. You’re more determined to pull nicer sounds from him, too, so you kiss under his ear lobe, sucking gently on the skin and feeling him let out a soft, labored gasp.

“Will you spoil me like this every time I’m hurt?” Sylus breathes.

You scowl and hiss, “no. Absolutely not. Then you’ll just get hurt more.”

He smiles smugly at the retort, biting his lip as you squeeze your fist around him tighter. “A smart little kitten, aren’t you? Sharpening your claws.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You like me enough to worry. I think that says enough.”

“Asshole,” you glare.

He’s shameless, you think. Because the insult brings him to the edge, his mouth falling open to a beautiful face of bliss, body quivering under you in soft tremors of pleasure. Sylus is beautiful. Dark, rough around the edges, and uncut stone with sharp corners. Beautiful enough to want, dangerous enough to slice your fingers if you don’t know how to touch him properly.

You admire him as he spills into your hands, his lips desperately searching yours as he leans closer and pulls you into a kiss, heavy breaths pouring into your mouth as he gives himself to you.

“Good,” he pants, “you…you make me feel so good.”

“That’s what I’m supposed to be here for,” you murmur, “so you don’t have to feel pain.”

You stroke him through his orgasm, until he’s soft and pliant and limp under your touch. Gently, you stroke his cheek with a thumb as you cup his face. He leans into your touch and closes his eyes.

“As capable as you are,” he says quietly, “I like the idea of you spending your energy in other fields of expertise. Sue me.”

“I should,” you purse your lips. “Sue you for all you’re worth.”

“It’ll be worth the troubles,” he says smugly, “you’ll get quite the sum if you manage to.”

And he’s not a liar, either—so you scoff at his smug, truth-telling grin before giving his curved lips a small peck.

Girl . Idk

[zvaigzdelasas]

Back in 2018, Kamala Harris and other Democrats labeled then-President Donald Trump’s wall a vanity project that wasted billions of taxpayer dollars. Harris even went so far as to post online that the barrier was “un-American.” Now, as a candidate for president, her border security plan includes filling in strategic sections of the wall along the nearly 2,000-mile southwest border, given her endorsement of the failed bipartisan bill that she now says is the foundation of her border policy.[...]

“Vice President Harris believes in tough, smart solutions to secure the border, keep communities safe, and reform our broken immigration system,” Ehrenberg said. The border bill would have provided 1,500 more border personnel, upgraded technology and kicked off the “immediate resumption” of the border wall construction that was underway in 2021, according to its text. “A border wall is something that Vice President Harris supports, but only where it makes sense,” [...]

In 2023, the Biden administration sought to waive environmental laws to proceed with wall construction in the Rio Grande Valley of Texas.[...]

“I want to see it finished,” said Border Patrol agent Art Del Cueto, who also serves as the vice president of the National Border Patrol Council, an agents union that has endorsed Trump.[...]

Del Cueto’s union supported the bipartisan border bill that is the basis for Harris’ border plan.

29 Sep 24

[princessbrunette]

in order to not spam you i’m spit firing all my obx thoughts while i have the chance

-jj calling reader pooch (i love it so bad)

-john b x reader x jj.

- threesome w pope and jj

-rafe fingering bunny!reader

-popular reader who’s in love with pope

- needy sex w john b after he’s been away

thank you and until i’m allowed to send asks again

-sweetheart anon

lemme give my quick thoughts on all of these 😭

╔═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════╗

• jj calling reader ‘pooch’

it’s my fav jj nickname for puppy, i love writing about it <3 pooch just sounds more like a princess pup who gets spoiled, and he probably calls puppy!reader pooch when she’s being pampered or acting a little spoilt. i just think it’s sweet n comedic like jj <3

• john b x reader x jj

i miss writing it so much !! i feel like that au used to be like, the main thing on my blog for a while !! we need to start talking about it again bc it was such a favourite !! the dynamic between the three is just so great — i think the last we spoke of it was the roadtrip au!

• threesome with pope and jj

the difference in personalities is alot to play with here. my first thoughts on this dynamic is always pope with his actual girlfriend who is always getting teased by jj, to the point where it definitely borders on flirting. pope feels like he should feel threatened and perhaps at first he does — but he’s so physically comfortable with jj that he starts to consider exploring things sexually. jj would definitely be on board with zero convincing needed !! he loves pope and wants to be respectful, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t jacked one out thinking about popes pretty shy gf on her back looking all guilty whilst she takes his dick :(

• rafe fingering bunny!reader

i always see this as a quick fix for bunny when she’s being needy in public. he can’t give her his dick all the time, sometimes he just needs to find a quicker solution. things would get out of hand at the country club when she’s clinging onto his arm telling his friends alarming facts about their sex life because she’s in that mood — until rafe has to press a hand over her mouth and march her to a toilet cubicle where he quickly makes her cream on his fingers whilst scolding her and telling her she better start behaving after she cums :(

• popular reader who’s in love with pope

this trope is always funny because it’s like everyone can see it but pope. she’d be all over him, clinging to his arm, finding him at every party practically throwing herself at him and pope is just trying so hard to be respectful and when asked about it he’s always like “nah, she’s just friendly. she gets like that.” and jj is literally on the verge of exploding like “dude. you’re supposed to be the smart one okay how can you not see that this chick is begging — no, dying for it. she wants you to give her that heyward special bro. please swoop on that. you’re killing me!” and popes like oh. what? no. she’s not— no—

• needy sex with john b after he was away

this is very puppy!reader coded <3 she’d pounce on him as soon as he’s through the door to the chateau and doesn’t care if the other pogues are in tow behind him, jumping into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and humping up and down as she kisses him all drooly and desperate, teeth clashing. he’d literally be like “woah, okay— hi. hi baby.” smiling so hard as he pulls back but she hasn’t got time for introductions!!!!! get that dick out!!!!!!!

╚═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════╝

[askagamedev]

Hello, can I ask how difficult is for developers to add accessibility features to games? I am aware it probably varies by type. Recently, I asked if a sound only minigame in one video game could be reworked to add visual cues, as I am deaf. Lot of other fans harped on me its too much work for little gain, too difficult, that it takes away precious developers time, etc. So now I wonder how complicated such thing actually is and how devs view it. Thank you.

They're not wrong in that building such things isn't free. However, you're also right in that we on the dev side should be thinking about better ways of doing this - there isn't only one solution to these problems. Whatever final solution we implement doesn't have to be the most expensive means of doing so. It's actually up to us to think of better/more efficient ways of doing the things we want to do. Adding accessibility options is often a worthy goal, not only to the players who need those options to be able to play, but also for general quality-of-life. If we're making changes after the fact, of course they're super expensive. If accessibility options are a production goal that we plan for, they're much cheaper because we don't have to redo work - we do it with accessibility in mind in the first place.

For example - let's say that we're working on UI and we have this system:

Let's say that we want to improve things for colorblind players. If we wanted to make this more accessible, instead of just using color to differentiate the choices, we could also add different border visuals to provide additional context.

In such a situation, the difference in choices is still obvious if you're colorblind and it helps legibility for non-colorblind players as well.

These kinds of UX changes can be expensive if we decide to do it after the fact, but if it's something we decide is important to us from the jump we can compensate for those costs by creating efficient and smart solutions early. Remember, the cost of any change in game development is directly proportional to how close that change is to shipping the game. The earlier the change is made, the cheaper it is. Furthermore, we make resource allocation choices based on our goals. If we want to make a game more accessible, we will figure out a way to do so that fits within our budget and provides a good player experience. Players don't really have a say in how we allocate our resources and that kind of armchair producer talk isn't particularly constructive anyway. Telling us what's important to you and why (including accessibility requests) is really the best kind of feedback we can hope for. Don't sweat coming up with the solutions or fretting about where we spend resources, that's our job.

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[sexymemecoin]

The Expansive World of Altcoins: Exploring the Diversity Beyond Bitcoin

Bitcoin, the original cryptocurrency, has long dominated headlines and market discussions. However, the world of digital currencies is vast and diverse, with thousands of alternative coins, or altcoins, each offering unique features and value propositions. Altcoins encompass a broad range of projects, from utility tokens and stablecoins to meme coins and more. This article delves into the rich ecosystem of altcoins, highlighting their significance, various types, and the innovative projects that make up this vibrant space, including a mention of Sexy Meme Coin.

Understanding Altcoins

The term "altcoin" refers to any cryptocurrency that is not Bitcoin. These coins were developed to address various limitations of Bitcoin or to introduce new features and use cases. Altcoins have proliferated since the creation of Bitcoin in 2009, each aiming to offer something different, whether it be improved transaction speeds, enhanced privacy features, or specific utility within certain ecosystems.

Categories of Altcoins

Utility Tokens: Utility tokens provide users with access to a specific product or service within a blockchain ecosystem. Examples include Ethereum's Ether (ETH), which is used to power applications on the Ethereum network, and Chainlink's LINK, which is used to pay for services on the Chainlink decentralized oracle network.

Stablecoins: Stablecoins are designed to maintain a stable value by being pegged to a reserve of assets, such as fiat currency or commodities. Tether (USDT) and USD Coin (USDC) are popular stablecoins pegged to the US dollar, offering the benefits of cryptocurrency without the volatility.

Security Tokens: Security tokens represent ownership in a real-world asset, such as shares in a company or real estate. They are subject to regulatory oversight and are often seen as a bridge between traditional finance and the blockchain world.

Meme Coins: Meme coins are a playful and often humorous take on cryptocurrency, inspired by internet memes and cultural trends. While they may start as jokes, some have gained significant value and community support. Dogecoin is the most famous example, but many others, like Shiba Inu and Sexy Meme Coin, have also captured the public's imagination.

Privacy Coins: Privacy coins focus on providing enhanced privacy features for transactions. Monero (XMR) and Zcash (ZEC) are notable examples, offering users the ability to transact anonymously and protect their financial privacy.

The Appeal of Altcoins

Altcoins offer several advantages over Bitcoin, including:

Innovation: Many altcoins introduce new technologies and features, driving innovation within the cryptocurrency space. For example, Ethereum introduced smart contracts, enabling decentralized applications (DApps) and decentralized finance (DeFi) platforms.

Specialization: Altcoins often serve specific niches or industries, providing targeted solutions that Bitcoin cannot. For instance, Ripple (XRP) focuses on facilitating cross-border payments, while Filecoin (FIL) aims to create a decentralized storage network.

Investment Opportunities: The diverse range of altcoins presents numerous investment opportunities. Investors can diversify their portfolios by investing in projects with different use cases and growth potentials.

Notable Altcoins in the Market

Ethereum (ETH): Ethereum is the second-largest cryptocurrency by market capitalization and has become the backbone of the DeFi and NFT (Non-Fungible Token) ecosystems. Its smart contract functionality allows developers to create decentralized applications, leading to a thriving ecosystem of financial services, games, and more.

Cardano (ADA): Cardano is a blockchain platform focused on sustainability, scalability, and transparency. It uses a proof-of-stake consensus mechanism, which is more energy-efficient than Bitcoin's proof-of-work. Cardano aims to provide a more secure and scalable infrastructure for the development of decentralized applications.

Polkadot (DOT): Polkadot is designed to enable different blockchains to interoperate and share information. Its unique architecture allows for the creation of "parachains," which can operate independently while still benefiting from the security and connectivity of the Polkadot network.

Chainlink (LINK): Chainlink is a decentralized oracle network that provides real-world data to smart contracts on the blockchain. This functionality is crucial for the operation of many DeFi applications, making Chainlink a vital component of the blockchain ecosystem.

Sexy Meme Coin: Among the meme coins, Sexy Meme Coin stands out for its combination of humor and innovative tokenomics. It offers a decentralized marketplace where users can buy, sell, and trade memes as NFTs (Non-Fungible Tokens), rewarding creators for their originality. Learn more about Sexy Meme Coin at Sexy Meme Coin.

The Future of Altcoins

The future of altcoins looks promising, with continuous innovation and increasing adoption across various industries. As blockchain technology evolves, we can expect altcoins to introduce new solutions and disrupt traditional systems. However, the market is also highly competitive, and not all projects will succeed. Investors should conduct thorough research and due diligence before investing in any altcoin.

Conclusion

Altcoins represent a dynamic and diverse segment of the cryptocurrency market. From utility tokens and stablecoins to meme coins and privacy coins, each category offers unique features and potential benefits. Projects like Ethereum, Cardano, Polkadot, and Chainlink are leading the way in innovation, while niche coins like Sexy Meme Coin add a layer of cultural relevance and community engagement. As the cryptocurrency ecosystem continues to grow, altcoins will play a crucial role in shaping the future of digital finance and blockchain technology.

For those interested in the playful and innovative side of the altcoin market, Sexy Meme Coin offers a unique and entertaining platform. Visit Sexy Meme Coin to explore this exciting project and join the community.

[somepinkthing]

CQL/MDZS AU where the events of Fatal Journey (including the nhs realizes he's been duped scene but prior to nmj dying) happen pretty much right after wwx breaks ties with yunmeng jiang. Meaning his reputation isn't completely in the tanks yet but things are building up.

Wanting revenge for his friends and to help his brother but realizing that actually involving said still-unstable-brother would probably get him killed, nie huaisang turns up at the burial mounds with a proposition. He can squirrel away the remaining wens to safety, hidden away within different pockets of qinghe that border qishan, if wwx agrees to marry him under the guise that they eloped during the sunshot campaign and come to qinghe to help his brother.

Wei wuxian initially opposes, but nhs is smart enough that he posed the offer to wen qing, citing that wwx has no right to refuse an offer not made to him. Wen qing asks what about wen ning and nhs admits that he can't integrate himself in with anyone normal, but the unclean realm is a fortress built to keep enemies out. There are places to hide even a fierce corpse. WWX eventually accepts after wen qing talks him around to it, knowing that nhs is right about their surrent situation being a literal dead end solution.

And because huaisang is trans in all my headcanons, wei wuxian also raises the question of others viewing nhs as his wife. Huaisang shrugs it off. He's accepted in qinghe and, more importantly, by everyone close to him. Everyone that he actually cares about. He's not so proud that he won't use an advantage when he sees it just because of some people he'll never meet will think him a wife instead of a husband.

Ofc they do eventually bring lwj into the fold. Whether they involve him in the plan or just in their relationship... who knows.

AND ofc a-yuan stays with wwx. Probably they'd give him to him to give him a chance of a better life. One not on the run. He gets three dads out of this so not a bad deal for the kid.

Anyways here's a bit of what I've got

"And what will you say to Chifeng-zun? Your brother won't object to you marrying the Yiling Patriarch, a monster and a known Wen-sympathizer?"

Nie Huaisang waved him off, as blase as ever.

"I think you're underestimating my brother Wei-xiong. He's a little self righteous and very bullheaded, he's not stupid. He's never believed a word out of Jin Guangshan's mouth and certainly isn't about to start believing him over me. If I say you aren't evil, he'll trust me. As for whether he'll oppose us? Well that's why we've already eloped and deflowered each other, remember? Harder to oppose something that's already happened."

Huaisang paused to consider before continuing in a much more somber tone.

"And besides, given recent events, I think... Well, let's just say he's currently very inclined to do anything he can to make me happy. I'd usually hate taking advantage of my brother in this state, believe it or not, but I'm willing to if it means he sticks around."

It was odd to see Nie Huaisang talk like this. Wei Wuxian couldn't really remember ever seeing him take anything seriously. Then again, he'd never before considered Nie Huaisang someone he'd had to consider seriously either.

"And you?" Wei Wuxian asked, "You won't oppose marrying me? Helping them? I saw you wince when you saw Wen Qing you know. I know what the Wens did to your family, how can I trust you won't try to hurt them?"

Nie Huaisang scoffed.

"Not all of us are so inclined to heroics, I would know. I can't say I don't resent them, but in their place? I wouldn't have opposed Wen Ruohan either. My brother would have. You would have too. That's the difference between us, I suppose."

"But you do resent them?" Wei Wuxian clarified.

"Yes," the other man answered simply, "Immensely. At least, in Wen-guniang's case I do. But you know? On the way here, I measured my hatred for the Wen sect—for the murder of my parents, for the war, for all they took from me—against my love for my brother..."

"And?"

"And they weighed nothing at all."

Nie Huaisang took a sharp breath in and a long breath out, as if he were actually letting his resentment flow out of him with the air in his lungs.

"Wei-xiong understand this, if I had to bring back Wen Ruohan himself just to give my brother an extra week of life, I'd do it. In a heartbeat. Damned be the consequences."

[milowing]

tbh i think my biggest problem with "batman not killing the joker makes him responsible for his crimes" is that batman isn't the only person choosing not to kill the joker-- so here's a quick list of people who could easily kill the joker but don't:

the u.s. government. the death penalty may be illegal in new jersey, but the joker has crossed state borders to commit his crimes, which makes it federal baby, and you can 100% get the death penalty at a federal level.

every single gcpd officer. they interact with him constantly, and even have him in custody sometimes; they could literally just shoot him. it would not be hard. also, they wouldn't get in any trouble; cops get a slap on the wrist for killing innocent people, if one killed the joker they'd be lauded as a hero for the rest of their life.

arkham staff. they supply him with food and care, and it would be really easy to poison him or even shoot/stab him and then claim it as self defense.

every other superhero. they are all equally as capable of killing him as batman is.

literally every civilian. they could just buy a gun and then go kill him. he's smart but he's also just like... a guy.

dc editorial. the real reason no one has killed the joker yet is because he's a popular character who makes a lot of money. why are we blaming batman for this he is a fictional character with no agency i am begging you to start acknowledging that comics are a collaborative medium that are written over decades by multiple people and are also made for money. please consider this and it's impact when analyzing comic characters.

and just for the record, i am pro-batman's no killing rule, anti-death penalty, and honestly think the best solution is dc figuring out how to de-escalate the joker's crimes so he's more on par with batman's other villains.

also batman is completely justified in stopping other people from killing the joker. murder is murder.

[lockandkeyblade]

Has anyone prompted you yet for the " here comes roxas with the steelchair"? I do wonder who would be on the recieving end of that

laughs @mirphelia your legacy continues.

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

"Are we really doing this again?"

Vanitas scowls before he even looks up, Roxas notes. It's kind of satisfying- he's not wanted here, which is great. He doesn't want to be here either.

This whole thing is a huge pain. Tracking Vanitas down? Only 40% of the problem. Maybe 30%. Less.

Thinking back on Ven's despondent moping, the last couple of days- less. Way less.

"Chili pepper," Vanitas says flatly. Ooh, he's getting the term of endearment as a threat today, is he? Ven's idiot side must be feeling the weight of his own bullshit. That's rare. "I didn't ask for your company."

"And I didn't want to give it, but here we are." Roxas shrugs, rolls his shoulders. Dumps his backpack off to the side- if he's lucky, Vanitas won't purposefully target it. If he does, well. Not the first time he's had to explain to his teacher that a dog ate his homework.

He can just ask Olette to photocopy it for him. She wouldn't help him cheat, of course, but she wouldn't discourage him from actively trying to do the work.

"So, how are we doing this? You ready to try just talking, for once, or-"

Void Gear almost cleaves his head off. Alright, fine. Fighting it is.

As per usual.

Roxas doesn't waste time between summoning Oblivion and summoning Oathkeeper. Vanitas can be fast, in a lot of ways, but his biggest strength is his strength; he comes at Roxas with all the force of a runaway tram, the ground rushing up at him that one time he did- or didn't- fall from the clock tower. Roxas needs both blades, because the times he needs to outright block Vanitas' attacks, he's only going to be successful if he uses both arms to match that power.

The solution is not to give Vanitas many opportunities to make him block, of course.

He's sure they make for quite a sight. On the one hand, he's leaning on- Light. Maybe not just Light. The In-between, catching at his heels and rapidly propelling himself across the ground, refusing to provide Vanitas with a still target. On the other, Vanitas meets him with pulses of Darkness. After-echo on after-echo, distorted visages of his wild, intense expression, lips pulled into a snarl more often than not. Instantly, viciously bloody. Literally.

They kick up the dirt and leave flecks of red across the ground in their wake. Artwork bordering on morbid. Vanitas pushes him hard- their dance crosses distance, a lot of it. From the middle of nowhere to the centre of some random town in some random world, where people race to get out of their way with shouts of alarm. Both of them are distracted from beating each other bloody to ensuring that they're not stuffed in a jail cell for property damage.

How long does it take, all up? Who's counting. It takes as long as it takes, Roxas putting just as much focus on conserving his energy as he is in ensuring he fights smart, because Vanitas isn't.

He never fights smart when Roxas has to come find him. Vanitas fights like someone struggling to bottle things back up. Like Roxas just walked on in and smashed those bottles against the floor.

Like a guy who keeps fucking up and needs someone else to come fix his mess. To force him into cleaning it up himself.

Vanitas is gulping air by the time they break apart. Shoulders heaving with effort and all that released tension; Roxas is going to have to come back to this world, for a week or two. Play clean up with all the Unversed this dipshit has spread about the place. That'll suck, too, and Vanitas will deserve all those painful little reminders to sort his shit out better, before Roxas has to come sort it for him.

"He doesn't understand what he did." Roxas tells him. The Darkness snarls at him, a wordless, vitriolic piece of rage that rushes across the gap between them, and Roxas-

Sidesteps. Sticks his foot out. Watches Vanitas smack his face into the ground with no, small amount of satisfaction. Fucking moron. They're both morons, sure, but Vanitas always takes the cake.

Roxas never gets an easy win over him when they're sparring. Only when Vanitas is so fixated on Ventus- on what Ven did, or what he did- that he fails to think at all.

Pushing the tip of Oblivion down into Vanitas' spine, Roxas repeats himself. Because it's just- words. He keeps having to repeat. To the guy who hates having to repeat himself. Damn hypocrite.

"He doesn't understand what he did. And you know what? I don't even care." Roxas pauses, taking a moment to catch his own breath. His muscles are starting to shake- he really needs to go for a walk. Stretch, before they begin aching.

Going after Vanitas is such a marathon. One of those, ride a bike for two hours. Now run. Swim a fucking channel, kind of things. Roxas is going to feel this chase for days; Vanitas is going to feel it too, sure. But he'll be preoccupied with... ugh.

Whatever. Some people never get punished enough.

"I don't care what Ven did. He fucked up? Fine. He'll say sorry. He always does." Since Vanitas hasn't even bothered to move, it's safe enough to dismiss his weapons. Drop down next to him, give his legs a break.

Smack the back of his head and listen to Vanitas hiss against the dirt.

"Except I bet he didn't fuck up, and all this shit is just you torturing yourself. So stop torturing him with all his stupid ideas that you're really not coming back this time."

"What do you know?" Vanitas sounds- petulant. Like a kid throwing a tantrum.

"I know he hasn't slept in at least two days. I know I couldn't get him to eat, this morning." Sharp, pointed rebuttals. The kind that have Vanitas' shoulders tensing. "I know he's gonna keep falling apart until you get your head out of your ass and fix this."

"Not everything can be fixed, Roxas."

"Sure. You'll do it anyway, because you two always do." When Vanitas pushes himself up on his elbows, Roxas stands, sighing. Offers a hand that Vanitas doesn't take, but it's offered. Not smacked away, so- fight over. "Just go be weird for a week or whatever. You guys are good at that."

Vanitas' expression when he turns to him is much better. The cogs are turning again, eyes not so much focusing on Roxas as they are the million and one tasks the Darkness is now setting up for himself. All to do with Ventus, of course. It's always going to be about Ventus.

Both of them are bloodied and battered, but Roxas doesn't invoke the chance of another battle by offering to heal them. He's made that mistake before. He gives Vanitas a lazy salute with his fingers, the sort of thing Axel would do- he'll heal himself when he's out of sight, and Vanitas will lick his own wounds or, considering who he'll be off to see shortly-

Again. Ugh.

"Welp, this was annoying. Let's never do it again."

Vanitas huffs out an almost laugh. Smirks at him. Roxas waits until he's turned on his heels before rolling his eyes, lest he encourages him to be even more of a dick about it. They'll be doing this again, absolutely. Circle of life, or whatever.

"You know, Roxas. If you enjoy us being weird you could always just come watch-"

They've smashed up a good amount of everything that wasn't bolted down in this town, but Roxas grabs for the first thing still upright, tossing it Vanitas' way. The Darkness- the asshole, unrepentant piece of shit- wheezes out a laugh as the chair collides with him, toppling back to the ground as his amusement turns into cackles.

Fucking chair didn't even break. Where'd he leave his bag?

[beyonceisstraight]

Just watched "we need to talk about Kevin" and I've met children who were unable to bond to their mother's and were abused, children with selective mutism and kids with deep issues bordering on personality disorders. All the discussions online are normal people trying to figure out how the mother fucked up because they don't seem to understand story elements. It's a collective fuck up. The unsupported mother, the husband who gaslights her and ignore her warnings over and over, the doctor who should have set up a psyche eval bc the kid was 3 and not speaking. the parents not hiring therapists and going to one themselves.

I was 1 before I said a word and a year passed before I said another. I had what I'm very sure was a narcissistic mother. As an adult I scream when I think about how a quiet child was a good child for her bc it meant I made no noise to disturb her. She thought it was really funny that I didn't talk and only asked for water. She'd recount it often. She'd recount how I communicated with sound and gesture and she'd communicate right back rather than try to get me to talk.

To bring that back to the movie? Me emotionally neglected and showing many signs of my development being affected but also really smart as a child and perceptive of adults flew under the radar. A kid that's manipulating people on purpose and has no real empathy? A few adults will notice but in real life there's nothing to do. The little girl I knew of who was being abused could have nothing done bc there was no proof. Only what her principal could clue together. What people would say. Her mother was beating her as a toddler. She was only 3 and a half and you could see the intelligence behind her eyes seeking out which adult she could fawn to and get attention from. She did it with me for a while but I at least knew she was acting out. 3 and a half was not an age I'd guess a child was being beaten at. And only after weeks of interacting was anything said to me about it because she had a really bad morning because she had a really bad night. (This did not take place in the US so there's no body that functions the way CPS does. So proof was needed before anything could be reported.) Kevin? I know that boy. I didn't feel sympathy for that character bc you could see the adult that would come. His mother? She's always been his supply of sorts. The parents talk about divorce. Custody. The dad says custody is a no brainer. The mom was just accusing Kevin of harming their daughter. So Kevin would be stuck with the parent that would reject him if he actually dropped the mask: his dad. Solution: lock his mother to him forever. The only time she hugs him and shows affection is when he's off to adult prison. If he hadn't killed his father and sister she could be able to move on but she can't. All she's become now is the aftermath of what he did. The things he does builds in the film and the way he knows what will happen if he does something like murder, is because she says nothing when he kills his sisters pet. It's not enough that he killed it, he stuffs it down the drain for the disposal to churn up. And he knew she would do that and see and know and she instantly covers it up. That moment in the movie tells you what happened. The fire fighters cutting into the bike locks that he put on the school doors is a larger echo of the disposal grinding up his little sisters pet.

I don't get why people are diving into tilda swintons character. Eva isn't the main topic. The movie is called we need to talk about Kevin. Kevin's and their fucked up shit gets ignored and quietly covered until it spills out on other people. We need to talk about how there's a million million Kevin's out there right now. So insane that people get locked up in Eva and not Kevin. And you know what part of that I think is? Male violence is so normal that it's boring. It does not lend itself to being talked about because we'd be here all day. But we can blame the mother? She raised him sure but who put the weapons in his hands? His father. The metaphor is a snake biting the audience. His father is pretending for the entire movie. Pretending his son is normal. He plays pretend with his daughter. He's not connected to real life. He's never listening to women but blaming them. His solution to his wife thinking Kevin might harm his little sister again, is divorce. The divorce that Kevin overhears them talk about and then what does Franklin do? He pretends to Kevin that he didn't hear what he just heard. Tells Kevin he's heard something out of context. He starts to try to gaslight Kevin. Frank is the one who turns a blind eye to both what his wife wants and his son needs and projects the idea of big house and yard. The father that he is, is the type of father who ignores and supports only what he likes. What grown man would rather change a 7 year olds diapers than take the child to professional help? He avoids everything. And even in other people's discussion of this movie they never say anything about it.

One of the most common repeated patterns I see again and again in women with PDD is a partner who does fuck all. Now the baby has psychological issues. I've met women who walk barefoot in the sun to help their PDD so it won't affect their baby. The dad? Doing fuck all. The kid doesn't even have an honest bond with his dad bc that's not what his dad wants. His real self is reserved for his mother bc he knows she'll literally wipe his shit. Extremely dysfunctional family all around.

Anyway, we need to talk about white parenting and the monsters they keep raising.

[truths33k3r4]

CHAPTER 27 - Specter

“ How long does it take for a security cam’s battery to die? “ Raph whispered to his brother as if the camera itself was trying to listen in on their conversation. 

Maybe it was.

“ Six months give or take. Therefore the camera shouldn’t be our focus right now. “ Don whispered back, motioning his head to the box of tools on the bench. He tried to move his feet, gauging how far he would need to stretch in order to reach the tools. Unfortunately the metallic ring of chains sounded harshly in his ears, as his movements were halted by their iron grip on his ankles. 

Ok.. that won’t work.

As Don ran simulations in his brain like a living calculator, Raph was attempting to escape with his own plan: PULL. REALLY. HARD. Don felt his brother’s shell twist and yank accompanied by the sounds of the chains being pulled taut. Raph let out a frustrated growl as his efforts proved to be in vain; No matter how much he yanked or tensed, the metal cuffs remained cemented to his wrists. 

Ok, cross brute force off the list.

Don tried to search for more options.

 Perhaps there’s a stray nail or screw on the floor. I could try picking my cuffs’ lock..

 He winced his eyes forcing his sight to clear as much as it could, peering down to the cold ground below. He targeted his gaze on anything that reflected light. Normally most screws and nails are made of galvanized steel, which is somewhat of a reflective metal. Therefore the thin rays of light peeking through the windows of their cell would cause those particular metals to faintly glow. Unfortunately, after a minute or so of staring at the pixelated ground, and not seeing any reflections of steel, Don gave up on that plan. 

Raph continued to struggle despite the obvious. His fists clenched tighter and tighter as he continued to pull. His shoulders rose with each tug and yank. His movements began as concentrated and calculated, but now they were unpredictable and panicked.

Don leaned back and rested the back of his head on his brother’s.

“ Ochitsuke, Raph. “ he whispered.

The horrible taunts of the ringing chains finally ceased as Raph nodded and dropped his arms to his sides.

“.. Don, I don’t.. I don’t know what to do.. How the shell are we going to get out of here? “ 

Don hated how his older brother’s voice teetered with insecurity. It didn’t help that he, too, was at a loss for words.. And PLANS apparently.

“ It’s fine.. As long as we are alive our brains can function. And as long as our brains can function, then we’ll think of a solution. “

Please believe me.

Don could feel his brother’s soft nod to his words as Raph let out a stress-filled sigh. 

You’re the smart one. Think, Interi. THINK.

If Don could, he would be slamming his forehead into his palm, trying to force ideas into his less-than-efficient-under-stress brain. When given time to think things through, he would normally have an answer to a difficult problem rather quickly. But when stress and a time crunch are involved, his brain betrays him, leaving him scrambling to remember the simplest of knowledge. It was pathetic.

Don and Raph both yanked their heads up harshly at the sound of a door opening nearby. Thankfully, without Don’s vision being at full capacity, his hearing sensitivity heightened to make up for it. 

Yay. I can at least HEAR the psycho who’s gonna kill me.

Now he could hear the haunting sound of those same heavy-duty boots coming closer and closer.

Don turned his face to Raph and whispered, “ NOT. A. WORD. “

A broad- shouldered man with rounded glasses and a tar-like coat entered quietly into Don and Raph’s cell carrying a briefcase. The light of the hallway behind him created a distorted silhouette bordering his form, making Don wince from the brightness. Both his and his brother’s body straightened like warriors preparing for battle. 

The Man politely closed the door, closely followed by a subtle click of the lock behind him as he walked up to his captives. With the light of the hallway now closed off, shadows consumed the Man’s form as he strolled closer to the brothers. The slim rays weaseling through the windows reflected in his glasses, masking the Man’s eyes in a bright white. He pulled out a small stool hidden behind the bench, and calmly sat down, placing his briefcase at his side.

“ You must have many questions as to why my team apprehended you. After all, normally in this fair city, the street scraps are left to fend for themselves. Picked off.. one by one.. by the many gangs wandering the alleys. “ 

The Man began caressing his briefcase with long, bony fingers.

“.. So, what, you may ask yourselves, makes you.. so .. special? What gives you the opportunity to be in the presence of ones with such intelligence, such as myself? “

Don and Raph gave an unamused glance to each other. Both had a whole lineup of insults to throw at this narcissist, but their mouths remained shut. 

The Man stands up with a thin growing smile and walks over to Don, covering the mutant in his towering shadow. Raph allowed a single low growl to escape his lips instead of the slew of crude nicknames piling up one by one in his head. 

“ Oh come now, I won’t harm you..

.. yet. “

In one terrifyingly quick motion, the Man shot out his hand, gripping Don’s face with his skeleton-like fingers. Raph’s growl grew louder. 

Don watched in silent horror as his face was studied by his captor like an organism under a microscope, lifting his chin painfully to scan over every corner and crevice. The chill of the Man’s fingers sent an involuntary shiver down his spine, like an evil spirit had phased through his body. 

“ With such specimens as yourselves, it would be quite foolish to take you apart in a dusty garage without my.. tools. No, no, the real fun will begin once I take you to my laboratory. “

Don didn’t like the sound of that one bit. And judging by the ferocious crescendoing snarl of his brother, Raph felt the same. 

The Man let go of Don’s face and eerily shifted towards Raph. The red-clad brother replaced his snarls with a glare so concentrated it would make milk curdle.

I wouldn’t do that if I were you.

“ Oooh, “ the Man taunted, pointing at the furious mutant, “ did I make the red one angry? “

Raph targeted all the rage and intimidation he could salvage into his piercing glare. Despite his attempts, the Man continued on as if nothing happened.

“ Well, going by your pitiful attempt at intimidating me, I will assume this must be someone you care about.” The Man gestured to Don, “ Perhaps your brother based on the ridiculous matching masks? ..Am I close? “

Raph and Don kept their mouths in a thin but planted line.

“ Hmm, “ the Man shrugged, “ Alright, not very talkative. Very well. “

The Man proceeded to return to his stool retrieving his briefcase, and placing it on his lap. With a few button clicks, it opened with a slight hiss, releasing a puff of cold air.

Don ran through all possibilities in his brain of items that would need to be kept in air tight containers and under cold temperatures.

..Sedatives..

Judging by the growing smile creeping up the Man’s face, Don knew he was right. 

WE HAVE TO ACT NOW.

Now it was Don’s turn to begin pulling and yanking on his chains. He knew it wouldn’t do anything. He KNEW. But despite the logic trying to take control of his brain, his panicked heart remained in control.

The Man rose up off his stool and began walking towards Don. The purple clad turtle’s vision morphed the Man’s form into that of a faceless specter, slowly wrapping his towering shadow over the mutant’s body. The panicked sounds of pulled chains became louder, melding with the calculated footsteps drawing closer and closer.

WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE NOW!!

For the second time today, a gun was held to Don’s head. 

“ This is just something to help you sleep.. Nothing more than a concentrated sedative, so no need to panic. “ The Man’s words whispered compassion, but his voice screeched with threat. 

Don’s heart began to pummel at his chest as the gun-like contraption the Man was holding was pointed at the mutant’s thigh. 

NO! 

With a pull of the trigger, Don felt a horrible sting spread throughout his leg. The needle in the device penetrated his skin almost like his epipen back at home. But unlike his medication, the solution being forced into his body was unknown. That fear alone made the sting hurt so much worse. He hated himself for allowing the man to see him flinch under the discomfort.

As for Raph..

.. The word ‘ hate ’ wouldn’t even begin to explain the fury raging through his brother’s body. Raph was now baring his fangs in all their sharp glory, as the Man pulled away the device , leaving a small dot of blood on Don’s leg. 

The freckled brother subtly began to sway, feeling whatever drugs running through his bloodstream beginning to activate. His head began to ring with a high pitched hum as it was becoming more and more difficult to keep his eyes open. 

STAY AWAKE. DON’T GO TO SLEEP. STAY AWAKE.

The Man walked up to Raph as he waved the device tauntingly at the slowly-growing-feral mutant. Raph had given him plenty of warnings. And there’s always a point with Don’s fiery brother when his patience snaps like a thin twig under the crackles of a flame. 

This is that point.

As the Man began positioning the device to Raph’s thigh, the flame consuming the mutant’s protective heart burst as he lunged his knee up, making the man’s hand jolt upward.

Right in front of Raph’s mouth.

With a harsh *SCRUNCH* Raph's fangs plunged deep into the Man’s hand that was holding the device. For once, their captor actually reacted, giving an annoyed grunt as he jolted from the pain burning his hand where Raph’s fangs remained planted. But despite the discomfort of the angry mutant’s teeth, the Man continued to stand tall, pushing aside Raph’s attack as a minor inconvenience.

“ Aww. It thinks it can escape. Well, what’s your plan then, mutant? Hold me down as your brother here goes for the keys that I don’t have? How much of a fool do you think I am? “

Despite the Man’s hand still being wedged into Raph’s teeth, the mutant began to smile menacingly.

“ Wrong answer, freak. “

Just like with Don, the man moved with quick and precise movements, trading off the device from the hand in Raph’s mouth to his other. He pulled the trigger. Raph was given more reason to bite down harder as the sharp sting penetrated his leg. 

The Man removed the device from Raph’s thigh and threw it to the side, and then reached deep into his black, robe-like coat. He pulled out what was definitely an actual gun, pointing it at Don’s head.

“ This will cause far more harm than the injector, I assure you. “ The Man’s voice didn’t waver the slightest, staying calm and to the point, as Raph’s bite continued to sink deeper. 

“ Now. Drop it, boy. Drop it like a good little dog. “

Raphael’s shoulders rose in hostility as his brain ran through the situation.

Does he WANT his hand to get bitten off??? 

With another growl, and a slight gag, Raphael released the Man’s bony fingers from his mouth. Don hazily watched as his brother proceeded to spit the Man’s own blood into his face. 

Everything was becoming so slow.. The Man’s form continued to alter and blur as Don’s vision slowly faded into darkness.

NO. NOT NOW! WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!! STAY AWAKE!!

Don didn’t even realize his eyes were closed now. His body slowly slumped against his will. The ghostly voice of the Man began to echo in his brain as he fought with all his might to keep his eyes open. He could feel Raph’s body beginning to fade too..

STAY AWAKE!!!!!!!

Don continued to fight against the sedative as best he could, trying to keep his body constantly in motion. He yanked at his chains and turned his head to keep an eye on his fading brother, who was trying to do the same. But as the minutes ticked by, their movements grew more sluggish; their heads slowly lowered with their eyelids.

Stay……awakeee…

“ That’s it. Go to sleep. Dream of your family. Your friends, if you have any. Relive all those wonderful memories.. “ The Man whispered into Don’s ear as he finally lost his fight with the consuming shadows, 

“.. For when you wake,

 your true nightmare will begin. “

That's it for this chapter. :) MAN ALIVE- I have been EXCITED to show you guys this one!! This is the first time I've written for a chapter with the physical appearance of a villain.. And I think, ( and hope ) that you were left with a sense of dread for poor Don and Raph.. And- yeah, you'll be feeling that for a while with the chapters I have planned. ;)

To God be the glory!

~ Melissa

MASTERPOST <- PRIOR CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ->

[hwsasiapacific]

APH MBTI Asians Headcanons PT. 3

(~Just as promised, here's part 3 to my mbti headcanonss! If I made any mistakes on the descriptions, whatsoever, kindly send me your feedback. Credits to Himaa)

💜Singapore: ENTJ (The Commander)💜 In his character profile, he was described as someone who looks seemingly polite with a gentle smile. But never let that fool you. Singapore's smart, calculated, and assertive, he never misses a beat. Similarly, ENTJs are known for their charisma and vision. They're witty, yet at the same time quietly intimidating. Dubbed as a "fine" country, literally giving out "fines" once rules are broken. He's also said to be a genius, brilliant at strategies and gourmet food. ENTJs have a dominant Te that allows them to take charge and desire to "play by the rules." They see the world with "systems" wherein in each wrong move comes a consequence. They pave their way to success by strategic moves (like how Singapore is good at creating polished presentations) and outcome driven planning. He constantly speaks a grander vision, he values the aesthetics as a driving mechanism. This is the magic of Ni-Te balance, that gives him an abstract vision to receive a concrete solution. His Ni also somewhat allows him to "set borders" and boundaries strategically. This may be shown how he rejects the idea of calling Malaysia "abang" (big brother) multiple times, to the point that he puts on pineapple tart shades to pretend not to see. He probably does this to avoid showing vulnerability, which is the inferior function of Fi that avoids intimacy. However, although through that all, he still has a hidden soft spot under the layers of Ni and Te. Like how he acknowledges Philippines' suggestion in having a more laid-back atmosphere during meetings, and how he more often than not supports Philippines' "bold" ideas, when some find it outrageous. Not only that but Singapore also described him as "bright and good at branding." ENTJs are known to be masters at seeing opportunities and potential, they see all sorts of possibilities even when an idea sounds "unhinged" at first. While this may appear strategic, it's also a way for ENTJs to affirm their loved ones even in subtle ways. He also has a clear moral compass, shown by his national pride and devotion to his culture and independence. To put this in a nutshell, Singapore, although obeys the rules, he believes in innovations. He stands as the mini-CEO in a friend group.

💙India: ESFJ (The Consul)💙 According to his profile, he's flamboyant yet polite, and basically the same personality as Hungary: sharp, yet sweet. Nurturing, yet strong (to be honest, that's probably the reason why I had trouble identifying his MBTI. To the point that I even took a look at Hungary's character description). This makes India that one friend who'll feed you and at the same time stand up for you whenever you need it. That's the classic ESFJ, loyal and tender-hearted. This presence was also described to have "a prince-like aura", magnetizing people that come near him. That's his dominant function Fe that allows him to socialize and be emotionally attuned, quick to step up during in times of need. This was seen on how he responded to Prussia's online venting on not being allowed to attend the Halloween Party. He replied, introducing himself and even inviting Prussia to join their group (that's one more person short). This spontaneous and unexpected response shows the trademark of an ESFJ, the feeling of obligation to catering one's present time needs. He doesn't hesitate to take charge; he acts based on what someone needs right now. He was also clearly stated as someone who takes immense pride of his culture, this is shown on how he challenges himself to put Indian movies on the top slots of the entertainment industry. Similarly, ESFJs treasure traditions close to their hearts. This personality type values continuity, familiarity, and anything that brings structure. And while he was described as someone who's good at debating. He can sometimes overextend himself in a debate because he’s leading with feeling (during the Christmas 2011 Event, it was mentioned on how he argued with China over who's closer to Russia), not pure logic. His Ti makes him embrace a more persuasive rather than analytical tone. In conclusion, India has the vibe of "I will argue with you politely if I must" to his character that deserves more spotlight.

💛Indonesia: ISFP (The Adventurer) 💛 Easy-going and quiet, yet strong and resilient. These are some words to describe Indonesia's character in Hetalia. His profile stated how his catchphrase when something goes wrong is "tidak apa-apa!"/"Gakpapa kok!", translating to "it's okay!" This reflects his dominant function, Fi that internalizes personal discomforts and crafting his peace out of it. He rewarded himself by buying a motorbike due to his economic success, showing his inner compass that's guiding him and keeping him in line. This also translates the "live the moment" energy or Se rather than the seeing the "bigger picture" like Ni and Te visions. He's spontaneous yet sensory grounded, he doesn't thrive in formal settings (his discomfort was elaborated in this bio when he made an "awkward speech" during an ASEAN summit). He likes to keep it casual and hands-on. When his neighbors commented on his cracked phone screen, he said that he'll replace it soon. This shows the tertiary function of Ni. He doesn't rush in things, he knows everything will work out, and that includes his phone. His decision making are usually more emotionally driven, then he'll justify it with logic. This is the hallmark trait of an ISFP. He's also depicted as friendly and initiates small talk in order to start a conversation. ISFPs although introverted, they're often friendly and approachable, especially if they've already became close to you. In correlation once more to the "casual meeting" suggestion, Indonesia agrees (saying, "That's a pretty good point coming from you.."). Indonesia radiates the ISFP energy with his authentic and simple gestures. He's definitely "vibes over structure" and that what makes him even more relatable. And even through his vast economic growth, he still finds himself confiding in things that he believes is right. That's ISFP right there, they don't need to lose themselves for the world by proving their worth. Because they already know they're worth it.

(Up next: Hong Kong, Macau, Malaysia, and Thailand)

This is part 3 to the mbti headcanon series!! I hope you enjoyed reading it, and if I made some description inaccuracy, kindly let me knoww

Thank you so much:)

~Author🩵

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

Heads up to any UK folks, there are a bunch of places where there may be more racist riots happening today.

Not an exhaustive list but:

Bedford - Immigration Inn at 93 Ford End Road MK40 4JT, at 20:00.

Birmingham - Unsure about location (as a local I'd guess the Immigration Advisory Service on New Street but that is just a guess), expected to start at any point past 12:00.

Cardiff - Unsure about location or time unfortunately.

Chelmsford - Only seen things about the "Immigration Centre", they may be on about Immigration Accomodation Surveys Writtle on/in the Green CM1 3DU?, at 20:00.

Derby - Immigration Advisory Service on 195 Normanton Road DE23 6US, at 20:00.

Durham - Durham Town Hall, Market Place DH1 3NJ, at 18:00.

Glasgow - Apparently something is happening at The Roma Cultural Centre which is on 43 Nithsdale Street G41 2PZ, unsure about time.

Glasgow - Also at George Square, starting at any point past 13:00.

Hull - Conroy Baker Ltd which has an office registered in Norwich House 104, 1st Floor, 1 Savile Street HU1 3ES, starting at 20:00.

Lincoln - The Carlton Centre on 2 Carlton Boulevard LN2 4FJ, starting at 20:00. (This protest is planned for the Immigration Lawyer Services in The Carlton Centre which does not physically exist FYI).

London - UK Immigration Help in/on The Mille at 1000 Great West Road in Brentford TW8 9DW, starting at 20:00.

London - Immigration and Nationality Services at Foundation House, 4 Percy Road in North Finchley N12 8BU, at 20:00.

Manchester - Windmill Street and Mount Street, not sure about time.

Northampton - Zenith Immigration Lawyers at 2 Talbot Road NN1 4JB, at 20:00.

Nottingham - East Midlands Immigration Services at 15 Stonesby Vale NG2 7UR, at 20:00.

Peterborough - Smart Immigration Solutions at Laxton House, 191 Lincoln Road PE1 2PN, at 20:00.

Preston - All I got for location here is UK Border Agency which I can find no such place in Preston? If any locals can lend help here, that'd be greatly appreciated. Starting at 20:00.

Southend - MNS Solicitors at 2 Ditton Court Road SS0 7HG, at 20:00.

Walthamstow - Waltham Forest Immigration Bureau, 187 Hoe Street E17 3AP, at 20:00.

[lizardsfromspace]

SUMMER PREVIEW: THE HOT NEW SUMMER DOCTOR SHOWS COMING TO YOUR SCREENS THIS SUMMER

The Hot Doctor Hospital: Every hospital is full of hot doctors, but where do they go when their health is at risk? They go to the hot doctor hospital, where broodingly handsome surgeons and smart yet tough physicians go to recover from broken hearts, stress from breaking all the rules because you give a damn about your patients, and to get total facial reconstruction surgery after being hit by a bus bc the actor demanded too much money

Canadian House: You all thrilled to the thrills of Dr. House breaking all the rules, and even the law, to diagnose his patients at all costs. Now, north of the border, another expert in rare diseases will listen as his patients explain their problems, but he always knows the solution: nodding gently and suggesting euthanasia. And when they say no, he'll go to any length to break into their house, so he can prove it's really shitty and poor and they should probably just let him kill them

The Cancer Whisperer: When Leona Betts was a young girl, she lost her whole family to cancer. Now, she's the best oncologist in the world, able to tune herself into the evil desires of tumors and cancerous lumps, and to cut them out and torture them until they tell her the truth: where is the cancer that killed her family? Is it leading the whole cancer operation?

Dr. Ass: In this soap opera, experience the love and loss among the staff of the unit where they pull things out of people's butts

[siriannatan]

Ice and Blood

After some thought I decided to start putting my dragon!Scott propaganda in one place, hope you enjoy :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55694242

It would seem like ever since Xornoth has been sealed away, peace settled between the Empires. Old conflicts forgotten, old alliances drifted apart and mingled with their former enemies until they'd been formally dissolved over a cup of tea. Peace and quiet. Even Sausage and Jimmy stopped quarreling over their quite obvious border in the form of a massive hole.

Well, it was certainly peaceful for a time. Until fWhip got bored and became a menace. Arguing and threatening war at the slightest insult or joke. Even Gem couldn't control her twin’s temper. Leading to tensions being high whenever anyone even just heard his cane from a distance.

After a couple months of that Gem decided enough was enough and grabbed volunteers - Sausage, Jimmy and Scott - to represent everyone in trying to talk sense to him. An hour into the talks it didn't seem to be working too well.

“Come on fWhip, just cut the nonsense threats,” Jimmy signed and the count just laughed.

“Sorry, don't feel like it. And this ganking up certainly isn't helping convince me,” fWhip shrugged. Ever since they came he sat casually on his throne, crown askew on his head, mocking smirk on his lips. He didn't even get up to greet them. What a menace. He was lucky he was pretty or Scott would have frozen him to his stupid chair.

“Why won't we talk alone then? Just you and me?” Scott offered knowing none of his companions, especially Gem, would ever agree.

“Scott you can't be…” Gem started in a hushed whisper.

“Why not, that certainly sounds better than this,” fWhip nodded with a laugh. The pompous prick.

Gem and Jimmy tried to protest but Sausage was smart enough to practically drag them out. Much to fWhip's amusement.

“Finally some peace and quiet, won't you agree?” fWhip smirked, and finally got up from his stupid chair. The clicking of his cane on the hardwood floor had Scott's scales itching from nerves. Maybe being alone with fWhip was a bad idea considering their history.

“Why have you decided to be a nuisance as of late?” Scott asked, suppressing the urge to step back as fWhip circled him. He could not shake off the feeling of being looked up and down.

“Oh, that's very simple, I was waiting for you to come to me. Alone. And now I have you right where I want,” fWhip grinned, stopping in front of Scott, just inches separating the two of them.

“You could have sent a letter,” Scott huffed, holding fWhip's mischievous stare.

“But, darling, wouldn't that be terribly boring?” fWhip's head tilted as his smirk grew, exposing just a hint of his fangs. Since when did fWhip have those? “And I got you here anyway, didn't I?”

“What do you want with me?” Scott asked, lowering the room's temperature by a few degrees. He was not going to be intimidated by fWhip's antics.

“Well, you see, shortly after we dealt with your dear brother I had a little dream. A vision really. Haven't been the same since. You just seem like the kind of person to not be turned away by small things like… blood,” fWhip explained, leaning closer and closer until his face was practically in Scott's neck. He for sure didn't imagine the sharp fangs grazing free of scales skin.

fWhip was of course damn right. Him being a vampire wasn't in the slightest an issue for Scott. Anyone else might have gone looking for a solution not involving biting anyone or a cure. Scott? Scott could not deny how exciting he found the idea. “You might be right…”

Scott barely finished the sentence before he was pulled and pushed to sit in fWhip's throne. “Ouch, watch the wings,” Scott hissed as fWhip clambered into his lap.

“Can I take that as a permission?” fWhip seemed to be present enough to ask.

“What? You never bit anyone before?” Scott could not help but tease him. It was just the two of them there, he didn't need to behave like a proper ruler. fWhip shook his head as he trembled in Scott'sap. “Aww, you've been saving yourself for me? How cute,” teasing fWhip was never this fun.

“Sure, whatever you want to think. Can I bite you?” fWhip grumbled, clearly starving.

“Go ahead but I'll push you off if you drink too much,” Scott agreed but felt the need to have an out.

“You can stay the night if you feel too unwell after,” fWhip breathed out a very tempting offer before sinking his fangs into Scott's neck.

Scott instantly wasn't sure if he could ever push fWhip off. The feeling was simply too good. He could barely hear himself moan from behind the pleasant fog that settled around his mind. Was it fWhip's doing? Some vampire poison to keep pray from struggling? Not that Scott particularly cared at the moment.

After what felt like forever fWhip pulled back. And maybe seeing his lips red with Scott's own blood shouldn't be an attractive sight but Scott felt too loopy to care. “You said you'd push me off,” fWhip instantly jumped into fretting about the half-dragon.

“I'm fine, I cab take you drinking some of my blood,” Scott grinned, no doubt looking like an idiot.

fWhip scoffed at that. “Try standing up then,” he challenged, arms crossed over his chest. He looked awfullya lot like Gem when she gave out lectures on how proper rulers should behave.

Scott, never one to back away from a challenge, tried standing up. His legs held out for maybe total of five seconds before fWhip pushed him back into the chair as he was about to collapse. “Okay, maybe you're right, but it's still all your fault for not just sending out a letter to me,” Scott huffed, pulling fWhip into his lap as revenge.

fWhip glared at him but acot knew he didn't mean it. “You're staying the night, no arguing,” fWhip decided before freeing himself from Scott's hands. “I'll get the kitchen making you something to eat,” he informed and left Scott alone on Grimlands throne.

Scott grinned as he looked at fWhip's back… lower back… He didn't have his cane with him, he thought with a smirk. Maybe he'll point it out later. “Your cane?” He pointed out just as fWhip was about to open the door. Elven king just assumed no one knew fWhip didn't really need it anymore.

And he had to be right as fWhip marched back. Not a word said. Grabbed his cane and walked back. At least he seemed to be in a better mood now that he has eaten.

If on the next meeting anyone asked how Scott got fWhip's attitude fixed, he'd just say ‘charm’. If fWhip didn't want to tell anyone then Scott would play along. Especially if it meant fWhip would bite him again.