#Project scope expansion

[theblogs2024]

What Is Scope Creep and How Can It Be Managed?

Explore the insidious nature of scope creep in projects and learn effective strategies to manage and prevent it. From understanding its causes to implementing robust project management techniques, discover how to keep your projects on track and within budget. Check out more details here: https://www.taskade.com/blog/what-is-scope-creep

[mariacallous]

WASHINGTON ― More than 5,000 people got their jobs back at the U.S. Department of Agriculture this month after a government employee oversight board concluded they had been illegally fired by Elon Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency.

The decision by that panel, the Merit Systems Protection Board, came after it restored the jobs of six other federal employees who had been similarly fired by DOGE.

Meanwhile, this month, a federal judge blocked DOGE from firing the president of a small federal agency, the U.S. African Development Foundation, in a lawsuit that provides the clearest details yet on how DOGE operates and how it may be routinely breaking the law.

All of these legal challenges came from the same group, a well-funded progressive legal organization, Democracy Forward.

At a time when the flood of litigation against President Donald Trump’s early actions is nearly impossible to keep up with ― his administration has already been hit with more than 130 legal challenges in the span of two months ― Democracy Forward has emerged as a leading legal organization that’s been slowing, if not stopping, some of Trump’s recklessness through the courts.

The group doesn’t just stand out for the number of lawsuits it’s been filing, which include more than 28 legal actions and 67 investigations since Trump was sworn in. Democracy Forward has shown it can move quickly to step in amid Trump’s chaotic, and often illegal, efforts to dismantle entire agencies, freeze federal spending, and fire thousands of federal employees. It has intervened on behalf of individual people, unions, nonprofit groups, health care professionals, educators, veterans groups and religious groups.

And importantly, it’s been winning.

On Saturday, Democracy Forward and the American Civil Liberties Union challenged Trump’s expansion of war time powers to deport immigrants using the centuries-old Alien Enemies Act. Within hours, a federal judge issued a temporary restraining order preventing Trump from removing some people through this act ― and later that day, broadened the scope of his order to cover all immigrants in danger of removal under the act.

In another case brought by Democracy Forward, a federal judge last week reaffirmed the court’s nationwide preliminary injunction (i.e., a temporary court order to preserve the status quo) that halted Trump’s efforts to arbitrarily terminate federal grants relating to diversity, equity and inclusion, and accessibility programs. The judge reaffirmed that not only can Trump not do that, but that this temporary halt applies to all agencies in the executive branch.

The group also secured the first and only nationwide order preventing Trump from imposing a sweeping freeze on trillions of dollars in federal spending, blocked a Trump administration policy enabling immigration enforcement officers to indiscriminately raid houses of worship, and this week prompted a federal judge to slam the Trump administration’s defense of DOGE and grant a request by labor and economic organizations to get more details about the Elon Musk-led entity unlawfully accessing sensitive data at federal agencies.

The evidence the Trump administration put forward to avoid more transparency into DOGE’s operations “is not the panacea they hoped it would be,” this judge concluded.

A big reason this organization has been so adept at countering Trump in court is because it spent the last 18 months gaming out legal strategies for responding to countless policy plans laid out in Project 2025, the far-right policy blueprint that the Heritage Foundation put together in preparation for a second Trump presidency.

Democracy Forward staff indexed the entire 900-page policy playbook, broke it down into different categories, put it in a spreadsheet and meticulously laid out what legal actions they should prepare to take based on how the Trump administration was likely to proceed with various policies, whether it be through executive orders, statutes or regulations.

They also coordinated with more than 450 civil society groups and state attorneys general to prepare for different scenarios where certain groups would be impacted by Project 2025 policies, and figured out when they should team up to defend the rule of law.

Trump tried to distance himself from Project 2025 on the campaign trail because lots of its plans are extreme and unpopular. But the policy guidebook was put together by former Trump administration officials and staunch allies, so it’s not surprising to see the president now moving aggressively to enact some of its proposals, like purging tens of thousands of federal workers for political reasons or abolishing the Department of Education.

In fact, late Thursday, Trump signed an executive order to dismantle the education department. Minutes later, Democracy Forward announced it would see him in court.

“Trump’s playbook is a known playbook,” Skye Perryman, Democracy Forward’s president and CEO, told HuffPost in an interview. “The Heritage Foundation wrote it down: Project 2025. We never believed it was a talking point or hyperbole. It is the greatest threat to democracy since the Civil War.”

Democracy Forward also prepared for a second Trump presidency by gathering materials from his first administration to review what legal actions and litigation he previously pursued, whether they be related to his executive orders, immigration cases, impoundment or challenges to executive orders issued by former President Joe Biden.

The president has done some unexpected things in his second term, like tapping Musk to oversee DOGE and letting him gain access to millions of Americans’ personal data. But Perryman said her organization was primed to respond to something chaotic, and in the case of DOGE, they sued on day one.

“This is like basic stuff,” she said.

“They do not play within the rules. There is opportunity in their lawlessness,” Perryman said. “They make a lot of legal foibles.”

Democracy Forward currently represents the American Federation of Teachers in two lawsuits, one that aims to halt DOGE’s seizure of millions of people’s sensitive data from the Social Security Administration, and another challenging a new Department of Education policy threatening to withhold federal money from schools teaching accurate history about slavery and diversity.

AFT, which has more than 1.8 million members, had been preparing to fight Trump’s executive order to dissolve the Department of Education when the department unexpectedly announced a new policy of stripping federal funds from schools that support diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives, said Daniel McNeil, general counsel at AFT. So the teachers’ group asked Democracy Forward if they wanted to team up to fight that, too.

“They already had something ready to go,” McNeil said. “It took working through the entire weekend to get it done, but they weren’t fazed at all by the fact that something else happened.”

AFT is working with other legal groups suing the Trump administration, he said, and they’re also doing good work. What’s unique about Democracy Forward’s model, though, is that they have their own attorneys doing the litigating versus hiring outside firms, and they have experts on staff, like someone who previously worked in the general counsel’s office at the Department of Education. They’ve also just been anticipating specific legal fights, he said.

“Of all the groups that were warning about Project 2025, they were systematically planning for the legal fight in the event that Trump were elected,” said McNeil. “For months in advance, they were thinking in a way that was like, ‘How do we challenge an executive order that does X? Who is the right party to challenge if Y happens?’ I think that’s what makes them different.”

Democracy Forward first launched in 2017, in response to what it described as the first Trump administration’s “unprecedented” threats to democracy and the rule of law. By 2019, it had sued his administration more than 100 times and chalked up several wins, including forcing the administration to collect pay data from employers based on race, gender and ethnicity, and forcing the FDA to regulate e-cigarettes.

Both Democracy Forward and its nonprofit counterpart, Democracy Forward Foundation, are chaired by Marc Elias, who served as general counsel for Hillary Clinton’s 2016 presidential campaign. The nonprofit is funded entirely by individual donors and philanthropic institutions. Its major donors include the Sandler Foundation, which gave $16 million from 2018 to 2023, and the Susan Thompson Buffett Foundation, which gave $5.6 million from 2021 to 2023.

Democracy Forward was operating with a budget of about $12.4 million in 2023, the most recent year its tax filings are available.

The organization has been hiring up for Trump’s second term. Last month, it brought on more litigators, public affairs specialists and operations personnel ― several of whom are seasoned former federal staffers from agencies that Democracy Forward will likely be seeing in court amid its lawsuits against the Trump administration, including the Justice Department, the Department of Health and Human Services, and the Interior Department.

One of its newest hires, Joel McElvain, was the acting deputy general counsel at HHS, where he was responsible for legal advice on all matters relating to Medicare and Medicaid statutes and the Affordable Care Act. Another recent hire, Michael Waldman, was special counsel at the Department of Veterans Affairs, where he advised the secretary on oversight matters and managed the department’s responses to congressional inquiries.

Shawn Phetteplace of Main Street Alliance, a network of roughly 30,000 small business owners that support left-of-center policies, has worked with Democracy Forward for years and is currently represented by them in three cases against the Trump administration. One case relates to the Office of Management and Budget’s freeze on billions of dollars on Jan. 27 in congressional approved federal grants being disbursed.

This funding freeze resulted in multiple small business owners having their money cut off, to the point where they weren’t sure if they could continue to operate, said Phetteplace. Within hours of OMB announcing its new directive, Democracy Forward requested a temporary restraining order in federal court. A judge granted that order on Feb. 3, and by Feb. 25, the judge granted a preliminary injunction, blocking the nationwide freeze from taking effect, for now.

“They keep winning,” Phetteplace said of Democracy Forward. “For our members, this isn’t theoretical. This is whether or not they stay in business.”

He chalks up some of the group’s success to the public-facing push it makes on the cases it’s fighting. He gave the example of Main Street Alliance members reaching out to the group to talk about how their businesses were hurt by Trump’s policies, and then how litigation has helped them. Democracy Forward has been incorporating those stories into its public statements as it moves forward with various lawsuits.

“They understand that it is really important to shape the public narrative around the issue and educate the public about the stakes,” he said. “That helps them make a stronger case.”

To be sure, Democracy Forward has faced setbacks in stemming Trump’s chaos, and that’s due to at least some of its victories being temporary. Last month, it filed emergency litigation in response to Trump’s plans to unilaterally defund the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, a financial watchdog agency. Their quick legal action resulted in the administration backing off its plans, instead agreeing to wait until a related case was heard in court.

A federal judge has since heard that case ― and this week denied the plaintiffs’ request to halt the administration’s plans for CFPB.

Temporary wins are still wins. When a judge issues a temporary restraining order or a preliminary injunction, it immediately blocks an action and buys time. Preliminary injunctions in particular can drag on for a long time. Democracy Forward and other groups have already demonstrated that collectively taking these legal steps has a real effect on slowing Trump’s unlawful, everywhere-all-at-once approach to dismantling the federal government.

Democracy Forward chalked up another temporary, but significant, victory in one of its cases late on Thursday: A federal judge blocked DOGE workers from accessing Social Security systems, calling the Musk-led efforts at this agency a “fishing expedition.”

“This is a major win for working people and retirees across the country,” said Lee Saunders, president of the American Federation of State, County, and Municipal Employees, one of the plaintiffs in the case. “This decision will not only force them to delete any data they have currently saved, but it will also block them from further sharing, accessing or disclosing our Social Security information.”

Some Trump allies are mad at the success that Democracy Forward and other groups have found in the courts, particularly in cases where judges have issued nationwide injunctions halting some of the president’s actions. In a nonsensical show of fealty to Trump, Sen. Josh Hawley (R-Mo.) on Thursday vowed to introduce legislation to prevent U.S. district court judges from issuing nationwide injunctions ― something that is, in fact, their jobs.

“That is not a power that I think district courts have,” Hawley, a Yale Law School alum who knows better, claimed on The Charlie Kirk Show, a far-right podcast. “Either the Supreme Court needs to intervene and make clear there’s only one court that can issue rules for the whole country … and/or, if they won’t do that, Congress needs to legislate and make clear that district courts do not have the ability to issue these kinds of injunctions.”

For her part, Perryman said one reason it’s important to slow things down in the courts is because it creates transparency on what Trump is actually doing. Doing so gives Americans a better understanding of the illegality of his actions, she said, and forces his administration to keep answering for what it’s doing.

“Understand that chaos is part of the strategy,” she said.

“Every day in litigation, what we see in this administration is they back off,” Perryman added. “Because really, the purpose is to see what they can do quickly. They don’t hold great conviction. There is opportunity in that.”

[sowerpatch]

terms of play [chapter 1 - the expansion play]

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Summary: Azzi Fudd built the Golden Valkyries on a dare, but drafting Paige Bueckers was all strategy. Fresh off an NCAA title, Paige is everything the team needs—and everything Azzi shouldn’t want.

Officially, it’s all business. Unofficially, it’s glances that linger too long and touches that mean too much.

Author's note: this is an AU where Azzi owns the Golden State Valkyries and drafts Paige. Azzi's family are all original characters. Also, Azzi is three years older than Paige.

*CHAPTER LIST HERE*

Chapter Summary: After a challenge at a family dinner, billionaire real estate property developer Azzi Fudd decides to start a WNBA expansion team. With a sharp team behind her and a clear vision, she builds the Golden State Valkyries in San Francisco. As the 2025 draft approaches, all signs point to one player—UConn’s Paige Bueckers. While Paige dominates the court, Azzi quietly prepares a franchise that’s not just ready to win—but built with her in mind.

Fudd Private Estate, Northern California. August 2023. 

Dinner was almost done, the last of the grilled sea bass cleared, the conversation slipping into its usual rhythm of real estate forecasts and international zoning headaches. Out on the terrace, string lights blinked above marble columns, glowing like fireflies. Inside, the table gleamed—mahogany polished to a perfect shine, linen napkins folded into neat triangles. 

Azzi sat between her mother and her older brother, Trey. Legs crossed, watching the slow swirl of wine in her glass. She had been quiet most of the evening, letting her brothers talk over each other the way they always did when the market was up and their egos were sharper than usual. 

“You closed the Charleston deal?” she asked finally, cutting through Trey’s retelling of a boardroom clash. 

Her eldest brother, James, nodded as he dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “We came in two-point-eight billion over the projections. Construction begins in six months.” 

Their father gave a grunt of approval. Their mother hummed and reached for her water. 

Azzi glanced across the table. “And what are you doing with all that extra goodwill, Jimmy?” 

He smirked. “Redeveloping a dying downtown district and renaming the park after myself.” 

Trey laughed. “Philanthropy at its finest.” 

“Speaking of,” James added, turning toward her, “You’ve been busy handing out grants again. New initiative for girls’ sports, right?” 

Azzi nodded. “Three new training facilities. One in Detroit, two in Phoenix. Fully operational by spring.” 

Trey raised his glass in mock toast. “Saving the world, one blueprint at a time.” 

She gave him a sidelong look. “Is there a point coming?” 

“There is,” he said, grinning. “You’re always writing checks. But I’m wondering when you’ll stop funding things and actually build something that isn’t a foundation.” 

“I build all the time.” 

James leaned in, elbows on the table. “We mean something that moves. Something alive. You’ve got the money, the backing, the public image.” 

“Start a team,” Trey said, a little too casually. “Something new. From the ground up. You want to talk about real change in women’s sports? That’s where it happens.” 

Azzi blinked slowly, caught by the shift in tone. “You want me to build a team.” 

Trey shrugged. “Why not?” 

James added, “It’s not like you’re risk-averse. You took on a $600 million flood zone in Miami. A team is a child’s play.” 

“It’s also far outside my scope,” she replied, voice calm. “I don’t follow leagues. I don’t know the system.” 

“You didn’t know how to navigate renewable infrastructure either,” Trey said. “Now you’re advising senators.” 

She exhaled, quiet but thoughtful. Her wine glass hung between her fingers as she stared toward the edge of the terrace, where the hills disappeared into shadows. 

“A team in what league?” 

Trey didn’t hesitate. “WNBA.” 

The name lingered in the air. 

Azzi gave a short laugh. “You’re joking.” 

“We’re not,” James said. “It’s still expanding. They’re opening the door for new franchises. You’d be one of the few female owners, if not the youngest. And your last name doesn’t hurt.” 

Trey grinned. “Besides, you’re the only one of us who’d actually do it well.” 

There was a long pause. Azzi’s eyes stayed fixed on the dark horizon, her thoughts already moving faster than her brothers could see. 

Without looking back, she lifted her glass and took a slow sip, the stem steady between her fingers. 

Trey watched her closely. “So?” 

Azzi didn’t answer right away. Her eyes lingered on the hills beyond the terrace, where the last light was slipping beneath the edge of the vineyard. 

“I never asked for a challenge,” she said, voice low. “But I don’t walk away from one either.” 

James smirked. “That’s not a yes.” 

She gave a faint smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “Isn’t it?” 

Their mother let out a quiet sigh, already sensing the shift in air. 

But Azzi was somewhere else entirely. Her mind moved fast and silent, calculating what a new venture would demand. She didn’t know the system, hadn’t followed the structure or rhythm of this world. It would take work, leverage, timing, instinct. 

And still, the idea pulled at her. 

Not because she cared about the game. But because something about it was unclaimed. 

She let the silence stretch, the glass poised just below her lips. 

Then, without another word, she stood and slipped out onto the terrace. 

Inside, her brothers watched her go, unsure if they’d won or simply opened a door she had already planned to walk through. 

- 

Fudd Holdings, New York. September 2023. 

The skyline beyond Azzi’s glass walls was cold steel and soft morning light. The city stirred beneath her, a quiet hum barely reaching the forty-second floor. From here, everything felt still—like the world was waiting for her next move. 

She stood in silence, coffee cooling in her hand, gaze fixed beyond the horizon. Her calendar buzzed every eight minutes, but none of it mattered right now. Not the Zurich call. Not the Dallas rezoning conflict. Not the gala prep in New York. 

The only thing on her desk was a sealed manila folder. Franchise proposal templates. Expansion forecasts. A league dossier annotated in someone else’s hand. 

She hadn’t opened it. 

But she hadn’t thrown it away either. 

Behind her, the door opened without a knock. Only one person in the building had that kind of clearance. 

“You’re either planning to buy a spaceship,” said Nika Mühl, walking in without slowing, “or you’re finally giving in and building that team.” 

Azzi didn’t turn. “Is that what people think?” 

“Well, your brothers certainly do. And you’ve been moody ever since that dinner. I don’t like when you get quiet. You make headlines after.” 

Azzi gave the smallest of smiles, still looking out the window. “You’re dramatic.” 

“I’m Croatian,” Nika replied. “We don’t do subtle.” 

She crossed the room with practiced ease, tablet tucked under one arm, white sneakers a sharp contrast against the black stone floor. Chief Operating Officer of Fudd Holdings by title, but she'd been Azzi's best friend since their freshman year at Harvard. Back when Azzi was the one skipping finance lectures and Nika was the one dragging her back with coffee and tactical guilt. 

Now, Nika handled billion-dollar contracts, kept Azzi’s empire standing, and had a habit of knowing exactly when to walk in without knocking. 

She stopped beside her. “So. Team?” 

Azzi said nothing. 

Nika clicked her tongue. “You do realize it’s not like ordering room service, right? You don’t just build a team. You build a front office. A scouting system. A market presence. A brand. A culture.” 

“That’s why I have you.” 

“Wrong,” Nika said, folding her arms. “You have me because I’m good at telling you when something’s a horrible idea.” 

Azzi finally turned to face her, leaning a shoulder against the window. Her voice was low, almost amused. “And is this one?” 

“I don’t know yet. But I know you. If you’re thinking about it this much, you’re already in. You just haven’t said it.” 

Azzi didn’t reply. 

Nika’s tone shifted. “You’d be the first. The youngest owner. A woman. A woman of color. It’ll rattle every boardroom on both the West and East Coasts. Your face will also land a cover in Time Magazine’s Most Influential People of2023.” 

“Good,” Azzi said softly. 

Nika smirked. “I should’ve known. You’ve already started.” 

Azzi walked to her desk, ignoring the tablet Nika had placed beside the folder. She picked up a plain notepad instead. Paper clean and waiting. 

She wrote one word. 

Then paused. 

There were no names yet. No colors. No city she was ready to claim. Just the shape of something she hadn’t fully spoken aloud. 

She stared at the page for a long moment. 

Nika leaned against the desk. “You know if you do this, you’re going to have to live in the same headlines you usually avoid. Press. Interviews. Every move picked apart.” 

“I don’t mind being watched,” Azzi said, pen still in hand. 

“What about being underestimated?” 

Azzi glanced up at her. “That’s never been my problem.” 

Outside, the clouds had begun to thin. A shaft of light cut through the skyline and landed across the desk. 

Azzi closed the notebook and slid it into the drawer. 

“Can you tell Ines to clear my afternoon?” 

“For what?” Nika asked, already pulling out her phone. 

Azzi didn’t answer. She just turned back toward the window, her expression unreadable. 

From this height, the world looked like something she could bend in her hands. And maybe, if she wanted, she would. 

- 

WNBA League Headquarters, Manhattan. November 2023. 

The room smelled faintly of polish and ego. Neutral walls, thick glass table, the kind of chairs designed to keep meetings short. Still, Azzi looked comfortable. Unbothered in black. Her tailored coat hung off the back of her seat, and she hadn’t touched the espresso served when she arrived. 

Across from her sat four executives, each with a pen, a notepad, and a carefully curated expression. 

“This isn’t a typical ownership proposal,” one of them finally said, glancing at the file open in front of him. “You’re young. Unaffiliated. No prior league ties. And no prior team experience.” 

Azzi didn’t blink. “And?” 

The man cleared his throat. “And we’re aware of your success. Real estate. Development. Media. But this is a different ecosystem. A community. It’s built on history. Legacy.” 

“I’m not interested in legacy,” she said, flatly. “I’m interested in evolution.” 

The woman beside him leaned forward slightly. “You’re asking for an expansion license. That’s no small request for a young businesswoman. Why now?” 

Azzi met her eyes without hesitation. “Because you’re leaving value on the table. The interest is there. The numbers are climbing. Your audiences skew younger, more global, more invested than ever. But you’re still thinking like it’s 2003.” 

A beat of silence passed. Someone coughed. 

“I’m not here to collect a trophy franchise,” Azzi continued. “I’m here to build a flagship.” 

The tension in the room shifted. Not relaxed, exactly. But focused. 

They weren’t used to her. She knew that. 

She was the wrong type of billionaire. The kind who didn’t golf. The kind who read quarterly reports at midnight and refused to pretend she cared about playing nice. 

After a pause, the youngest executive spoke. “Your location request. Northern California. That market’s saturated.” 

“Not for women’s sports,” Azzi replied. “And not with the way I’ll brand it.” 

More notes were scribbled. Pages flipped. 

“You understand you’ll be responsible for hiring your own staff. GM. Coaching. Scouting. Facilities.” 

She nodded once. 

“And you’ll have full authority over your roster, should the board approve your inaugural draft position.” 

This time, Azzi didn’t reply. She just tilted her head slightly. Under the table, her phone buzzed once. A message from Nika. 

Top prospect in 2025. Bueckers. UConn. Championship run. Wings circling already. 

She locked the screen without reacting. 

One of the executives leaned back. “This is an aggressive timeline.” 

“I don’t need time,” Azzi said calmly. “I need a green light.” 

They all looked at each other. 

- 

Storrs, Connecticut. January 2024. 

The music hit like a pulse—loud, sticky, layered with bass. Bodies moved in waves around the living room, red cups lifted high, sweat clinging to necklines and the collarbones of people who hadn’t felt the October cold in hours. 

Paige was in the middle of it. 

Couch corner, backward cap, half-finished drink. Her legs draped casually over the side, one arm hooked behind the girl pressed close to her. Brown skin, bright eyes, a messy braid slipping down her shoulder. She laughed at something Paige murmured, then leaned in again. 

Paige smiled—half-cocky, half-distracted. She liked the ones who laughed easily. They didn’t ask for much. 

She didn’t remember this girl’s name. She wasn’t sure she ever got it. 

“You always this smooth?” the girl asked, fingers tracing lazy circles on Paige’s arm. 

“I like to keep my stats up,” Paige replied, letting the line sit between them like smoke. 

The girl grinned and tilted her head. “You’re bad.” 

Paige just raised her cup, took a slow sip, eyes never leaving hers. She didn’t need to try. People came to her like gravity. She played the role well—UConn’s golden girl, the smirk, the ease, the streak of charm that made teammates roll their eyes and strangers ask for photos. 

Across the room, KK Arnold pushed through the crowd like she had somewhere to be—shoulders squared, mouth moving before she even reached the couch. 

“Yo!” she shouted. “Turn that down—hold up, Paige—have you seen this?” 

The girl beside Paige pulled back slightly, frowning. Paige didn’t move. Just raised her eyebrows lazily. 

“I’m kinda busy, KK.” 

“No,” KK insisted, phone shoved halfway into Paige’s face. “You’re gonna want to see this.” 

Paige blinked. “This better be more important than whatever this is,” she said, gesturing vaguely at her lap. 

KK smirked. “It is.” 

She pressed play. 

A talking head. ESPN. Something about the league. Something about movement. Paige barely tuned in until she heard the word: 

“—expansion.” 

That snapped her straight. 

She reached for the phone now, sat up slightly. The girl she’d been entertaining gave a small noise of protest and slipped away, sensing the shift in energy. 

KK kept talking. “It’s not confirmed, but people are saying it’s happening. West Coast maybe. A new team. Just one.” 

“And?” Paige said, watching the loop replay, the headline scroll beneath the anchors. 

“And if it happens,” KK’s eyes were shining with excitement, “whoever they are, they’ll get the first pick in 2025.” 

Paige leaned back, silent now, eyes on the screen but brain already moving. 

She knew what first pick meant. 

She knew what she meant. 

A slow grin spread across her face, lazy and full of something dangerous. 

“Well,” she said, voice smooth, almost a drawl, “guess they better build something worth playing for.” 

KK laughed. “You’re ridiculous.” 

Paige tossed her cup aside, suddenly alive again. “Nah. I’m just real hard to impress.” 

She didn’t know yet who was building that team. Didn’t know where they were, or what they were planning. 

But she knew how expansion worked. 

If they were new, they were going to get first pick. 

And if she kept playing like this, there wasn’t going to be much of a debate. 

Paige let the thought settle as she sank back onto the couch, the music pulsing again through the floorboards. The party moved around her. Someone passed her a refill. Someone else grabbed her hand to pull her into a photo. 

She smiled, easy and practiced. 

Whatever came next, she’d be ready for it. 

She always was. 

- 

Azzi’s condo, San Francisco. February 2024. 

The city never fully slept, but her condo above it felt like it did. Clean lines, quiet corners, light reflecting off glass and steel. The only sound was the low buzz of her laptop fan and the occasional shift of the wind against the windows. Azzi had tuned the rest out. 

She sat barefoot at her desk, blazer thrown over the back of the chair, sleeves rolled past her elbows. A second espresso sat forgotten beside her—still warm, untouched. The hours had slipped without warning, and she hadn’t moved. 

Everything had started simple. 

Staff. Infrastructure. Nika had sent over a thick shortlist—coaching leads, analytics experts, trainers, logistics. All color-coded, with bullet-point histories and compensation expectations. Azzi had flagged a few. Deleted one with a note. Started typing thoughts into a shared doc that Nika would read by morning. 

That should’ve been the end of her night. 

But she had opened another folder. This one labeled Prospects. It wasn’t official. The draft was a year out. Still, Nika had her ear to the ground, and the expected names were already surfacing. 

There were plenty of talents. 

But only one name was bolded in red. 

Paige Bueckers. 

Azzi clicked into the file. Then into the links. And suddenly, she wasn’t reviewing a prospect. She was watching. 

Highlights first. Just a few. Crisp cuts, quick angles. UConn’s number five coming off a screen and launching a shot so fluid it made time pause. Behind-the-back passes. A stepback three that broke ankles. That same face again and again in the freeze-frames—focused, fierce, almost glowing. 

Then came the interviews. 

Paige under lights. Paige in locker rooms. Paige on late-night segments, quick with a grin, comfortable in her own skin. Her voice had a cadence Azzi didn’t expect. Confident, but easy. Flirty when she wanted to be, always a little amused with the attention she commanded. 

It was sometime after 2 a.m. when Azzi realized she hadn’t blinked in a while. 

The tabs were everywhere now—articles, game tape, UConn’s media guide, a podcast, a couple of poorly edited fan videos. One browser was open to Paige’s Instagram. There were more selfies than Azzi expected. More snapshots in hoodies, celebrations, dances, teammates wrapping arms around her shoulders. Her smile was wide in nearly all of them. 

There was one video—twenty seconds long—where Paige sat on a locker room bench after a win. Her hair was still damp, socks mismatched. She pointed at the camera, grinning like she knew exactly who was watching. 

“Y’all saw that pass, right?” she said. “I’m just saying MVP energy, don’t lie.” 

Azzi tilted her head at the screen. Then hit replay. 

She didn’t bother counting how many times she watched it. 

The city outside had turned ghost-quiet. Her espresso had gone cold. The time in the corner of her screen read 3:42 a.m. 

Azzi leaned back, the glow of the screen still lingering behind her eyes. The silence of the condo pressed in, heavy with everything left undone. 

This wasn’t about choosing a player. That decision had been obvious. 

Now came the hard part. 

She had to build something that deserved her. 

Not a placeholder roster. Not a name stitched on a jersey. Something real. Cohesive. Ruthless in its intention and sharp enough to match the edge that girl played with. 

Paige Bueckers wouldn’t say it out loud, but Azzi had seen it in every clip, every interview, every still image that refused to soften her. Paige would not play just to exist. She would need to win. To lead. To belong without shrinking.    Not to mention the insane number of her following and fanbase. Paige also influenced people in a way.  

Azzi stood and crossed the room, the city lights curling against the glass. Her reflection was sharp, watching. 

She had money. Influence. Time. 

What she needed now was vision. 

Something Paige would walk into and never want to leave. 

And Azzi would build it. Quietly. Precisely. 

-    Fudd Holdings, New York. March 2024. 

The room was quiet, the kind of quiet that followed focus. Sunlight spilled across the long table, where a half-dozen staff from operations and marketing sat poised, eyes forward. At the head stood Azzi, composed in tailored black, with Nika seated beside her. Ines, her ever-efficient assistant, flanked the opposite side. Amari DeBerry, recently appointed head of marketing, sat near the screen, hands clasped, alert. 

Azzi’s voice carried with clarity and purpose. 

“We’re establishing the franchise in San Francisco,” she said simply. “We’ve secured a long-term venue partnership, and I’ve approved residential development near the arena for housing and accessibility.” 

Murmurs of approval passed around the table. Amari nodded once, already scribbling in a notepad. 

Azzi tapped the remote and the screen behind her lit up. 

“The team name is set. Golden State Valkyries.” 

Another murmur. Nika let out a soft, impressed whistle. 

“Color palette is royal purple, white, black, and gold.” 

That got Nika’s attention. She didn’t speak, not yet, but her brow lifted slightly. Azzi didn’t look at her. 

“The branding team will have mockups by Friday,” Azzi continued. “Uniform concepts by next week. I want a balance of power and elegance. Iconography that’s timeless, not trendy.” 

The presentation slide shifted, revealing clean logo designs, jersey prototypes, and mock courts painted with deep violet and cold metallics. Strong, elegant. Sharp. 

Azzi continued, her gaze unwavering. “The direction is not simply aesthetic. The identity needs to match the face of the franchise.” 

She let the silence stretch, let the weight of her next words land with precision. 

“We’re drafting Paige Bueckers in 2025. And everything we build starts there.” 

The others nodded in agreement, energized, the tension turning to motion. 

“She’s a generational player,” Azzi said. “But more than that, she’s marketable. Composed. Smart. Charismatic. We’re not just acquiring talent. We’re setting the tone for who we are.”    Azzi answered a few questions here and there as she promised to send a copy of the presentation to each and everyone of them.    “We’re moving to the main office in San Francisco by the end of this month. All costs involving the transfer will be compensated and you will all receive an email from Finance and H&R.” Azzi’s tone was firm and final. Then Azzi looked at her Marketing Director. “Amari, I need you to start working on marketing strategies before this year’s WNBA draft. We want to launch the brand and team after the 2024 draft.”    Amari gave her a thumbs up before going back to her notepad. 

The presentation ended, clean and final. Staff offered quiet acknowledgments before rising and filing out.     Nika remained seated. She tilted her head toward the dark screen now dimming in sleep mode. 

“Purple?” she said, tone neutral, almost amused. 

Azzi didn’t look up. “It photographs well.” 

Nika lifted a brow. “So does navy. Or gray.” 

Azzi slid her tablet into her bag. “This feels distinct.” 

Nika leaned forward just slightly, eyes sharp. “It’s her favorite color.” 

Azzi's hand stilled over the zipper. “Is it?” 

“So you’re saying...” Nika 's voice was edged with mischief, “it’s just a branding strategy?” 

Azzi straightened, cool as ever. “It’s a strong visual.” 

Nika gave a soft, knowing smile. “Sure.” 

She didn’t press, but she didn’t need to. The implication hung between them—unspoken, but understood. 

- 

Somewhere in Florida. April 2024. 

The room smelled like last night—cheap beer, perfume, someone else's cigarettes. Paige sat on the edge of the bed, one sock on, shirt in her lap, scrolling through her phone without much urgency. Her head pounded faintly. She didn’t remember the girl's name. She didn’t try. 

The first thing that caught her attention wasn’t a text or a missed call. 

It was a headline. 

Breaking: WNBA Announces New Expansion Team — Golden State Valkyries 

She stilled. 

Logos, teaser clips, renderings of jerseys, arena mock-ups—her feed was full of it. Posts from ESPN, WNBA, Bleacher Report. Everyone had something to say. Some called it ambitious. Some called it overdue. Everyone agreed it was big. 

The name caught her. So did the sharp lines of the branding. There was something bold about it. Fast. Designed to be remembered. 

She kept scrolling, half-dressed, only stopping when KK’s name lit up on her screen. 

She answered. “What.” 

“Girly pop, tell me you’ve seen the news,” KK said, buzzing with energy. 

“I’m looking at it now, bruh.” 

“That’s it. That’s the team. You’re going there.” 

Paige tossed her shirt over her shoulder and reached for her shoes. “That's reach.” 

“Come on,” KK said. “They will draft you for sure! You’re the first pick next year. That team’s yours whether you like it or not.” 

Paige didn’t say anything for a beat. A few more posts flashed past—video edits already throwing her name into fake Valkyrie graphics. Speculation disguised as fact. 

She grabbed her keys off the nightstand and headed for the door. The other girl mumbled something into the pillow. Paige didn’t turn around. 

She stepped out into the morning. The season was already over but the future had a shape now.  

And it had her full attention. 

[kaidanworkshop]

Workshop Update: Kaidan Revoiced - Community Expansion 1.0 Launch!

After two years of development, the Kaidan Workshop Staff is proud to present Kaidan Revoiced - Community Expansion (KRCE)!

First and foremost, none of this would be possible without livtempleton graciously giving us permission for our project! Throughout the years, the assets she's allowed the Skyrim modding community to build upon has kept Kaidan alive in thousands of modlists, providing the opportunity for even more players to enjoy her original creations; we're very honored to be added to the list of modders whose creations are inspired by her work. When we started the Workshop, we had no idea if anyone would even notice our project; a new voice actor, a new iteration of an already established character, and no product to show for it in advance. The only thing we could offer the general public at the time was the promise of transparency and community cooperation throughout the process. So we created a budget for revoicing Kaidan, a plan for community involvement, and hit the ground running. We added new staff, taught ourselves new skills as the scope of the project evolved, and leaned on the advice, ideas, and encouragement from our community. Alongside the (mostly) monthly updates on our Tumblr and taking suggestions from our 'I Had An Idea!' Discord channel, our methods for ensuring transparency during development evolved; our Community Team began hosting public meetings via our Discord to discuss our current workflow, answer questions, and conduct live script readings of our original scripts, to ensure that our Writing Team was matching the original tone set by livtempleton. We also streamed our beta footage on Twitch, trying our best to stress test the new framework built by our Creation Kit Team while also taking more suggestions from our audience for future content. Finally, we were incredibly pleased to be able to host an Open Beta for KRCE this past October & November for our Discord community, as a special thank you for their support. We were able to get some excellent feedback on some of our new follower features, as well as hunt down any missed audio or errors our internal testing missed. All in all, it took many, many people to bring this mod to life, and our Staff is incredibly humbled and grateful for the support of everyone involved. While this 1.0 version will be available indefinitely for those who prefer it, the Workshop Staff is very excited to begin creating more original content moving forward into 2025! One of our original scripts for the Daedric quest "Pieces of the Past" is in the 1.0, so you can check it out to get a sense of the tone our writers are going for! You can read about what content is present in our mod, as well as find the answers to commonly asked questions in the KRCE Mod FAQ. Keep up with the project via our updates on Tumblr, or join our Discord server!

The Kaidan Workshop is a community-led, non-profit project that aims to build upon the original LivTempleton Kaidan 2 mod. Our project is strictly non-profit; all funds raised are to commission Mr. Warren for his services. You can read more about what the Kaidan Workshop is here.

[anim-ttrpgs]

Short A.N.I.M. Hiatus

Just so y’all know, I, the only full-time employee of A.N.I.M., will be on vacation/hiatus from about now (April 7th, 2025) until the last week of April, so there will be very few new posts and very little progress on our various projects until then, but I will be setting the queue to keep cycling through old posts and reblogs.

As for where everything’s at right now:

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy (Beta)

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is being continually polished and tweaked based on massive amounts of player feedback, but editing progress is still very slow due to our editor dealing with lots of difficult life stuff. We are really hoping to continue with regular, speedy editing progress in May.

At least 16 dedicated Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy adventure modules are currently in development, 2 of which are being developed in-house by A.N.I.M. and the rest are fan creations from the game jam we ran last month. Within a few months everyone can finally stop relying on Call of Cthulhu and Delta Green modules.

Eureka: The Fanservice Files (Beta)

This was an unexpected hit and a big part of the reason we’re doing so relatively well on money this month (still not in the clear though). It made more money in the first 4 hours than Eureka Adventure Modules Vol. 1 has in 65 days. For this reason I have decided to definitely continue work on it as a legitimate expansion. Patreon subscribers have already gotten an updated version last week, and can expect an even more updated version to come in May. These updates will come to the general public at the same time as the next public beta update for Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy.

And also because this was such a big hit, I have decided to try to always have a reserve expansion in my back pocket, which I’m calling a “ripcord expansion” to reference its short and emergency nature. These expansions will be about the same length as The Fanservice Files and include content that fits with the canon and themes of the main rulebook, but is just a little bit sillier or otherwise different in tone. These are “emergency” releases because I’m keeping them on the shelf in an outline stage until it starts to look like we’re in serious danger of not meeting our income quota, then quickly finishing them up for a surprise release and some quick money.

The next one, to finished up and released when-needed, is called Eureka: The XXX-Files.

Edge Hedge Arena (Beta)

Has anyone even played this?

Silk & Dagger: A Sensible Drow RPG (Alpha)

We are just getting through the second round of playtesting for Silk & Dagger and, as is to be expected for an alpha, it’s looking rough. Despite it actually being perfectly reasonable to do so, especially with how much we need the money, I still can’t help but feel a tinge of embarrassment at showing one of my games to the public in such a messy state. I take game design very seriously and hold RPGs to a very high standard. At least y’all and I both can take comfort in the fact that this is the worst Silk & Dagger will ever be, and it’s only up hill from here. (And it’s still pretty good already)

I’m writing down all the feedback so I can reference it when I bring Silk & Dagger back to the front burner after I get Death Bed: A Souls-like RPG into the barest minimum of a playable state.

Death Bed: A Souls-like RPG (Pre-Alpha)

What started out as a “simple” “OSR” dungeon-crawler which aimed to represent the combat of Dark Souls in a turn-based TTRPG format has ballooned into a project that will probably somewhere close to the scope of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy. A harsh and brutal, but optimistic dungeon crawler with themes of disability, medieval culture, and medieval Christianity. It will also feature combat and other mechanics reminiscent of Dark Souls but translated into something that’s actually fun as a TTRPG. And I’m really autistic about medieval culture, medieval Christianity, game design, and swords, so you can expect this to be really good, once it’s finished.

Currently it’s looking like the game won’t be in even a remotely playtestable state until at least early May, and even at that stage it’ll just be a combat-simulator without any actual dungeon-crawling elements ready yet.

Financial Situation

We are currently at $558.08/$1,964.33 for the monthly income necessary to keep us afloat, and even though this actually puts us a little ahead for the month at the time of writing this, obviously I am very nervous about stepping away from the wheel for 2 weeks when we cut it so close every month, but if I keep pushing 35-70 hours a week every week without taking a few weeks off, I’ll probably die.

At the very least, members of our team appear on two different podcast episodes that will be releasing this April, so that should introduce us to some new audiences. One of those podcasts is @literalcatpod.

For my sake please continue to reblog our posts, play and talk about our games, and buy them and/or subscribe to the patreon in my absence. I need to be able to relax over the next two weeks without worrying about returning to a company that is woefully behind on its income quota with only one week left to fix that.

Thank you again to all our fans and supporters. This is anim-ttrpgs signing off.

[askagamedev]

There’s a lot of noise online about live service games being detrimental to the quality of games, such as initial launches being bug ridden and with incomplete features. Is there any truth to this last statement? And are the spending patterns reflecting the idea that people are dissatisfied with this model of monetization?

I think that it is true that initial launches are indeed more bug ridden today than they were before day 1 patches were possible, but the reason for this is much less nefarious than most are imagining. I was already working in games before that big change happened and I saw what happened from the inside.

Before we could patch, producers would cut content and features much more mercilessly because we lacked the time to finish that content properly and still pass certification. We couldn't ever modify or add stuff to the disc or cartridge, so we had to make sure that what went out was the most stable thing we could. Stability was more important than scope, so we'd see stuff get cut near the end all the time. There were a lot of features and content that players never saw because we couldn't get them polished and stable before the game had to ship. If we were lucky we managed to save some of it for expansion packs but most of it never saw the light of day. The last few weeks of the project were mostly wasted sitting around and waiting because we couldn't ever risk making any changes that weren't addressing cert-blocking bugs and we would mostly wait around to find out if cert had gone through.

Back then, the burned and duplicated disk sent to retailers was the final pencils-down-step-away moment. The gold master is what got used to duplicate all of the discs and we couldn't make a new one. Further, all of those duplicated disks out in the wild would forever hold the "final" version of the game, bugs and all. The only way a new version was possible was another print run, and that only occurred in very rare cases where the entire first print run sold out and there was enough demand to print a second run... and the publisher felt it was worth going through certification a second time.

With the advent of internet-connected game consoles and networks, we got the ability to push out post-launch patches including day 1 content updates. With the ability to patch came the potential to finish some of that nearly-complete content that we used to have to cut for stability purposes. Instead of focusing on stability, we could actually push fixes later and fit more content into our releases. This meant that we could also shift people to work on post-launch content, rather than simply sitting around and doing nothing while waiting for cert results. We could fix bugs and work on new content and features during that time and we could leverage all the expertise and experience we had earned in the years of development up to that point.

To summarize - in the olden days, we had to cut a lot more content and features that were close to being finished because we needed to go pencils-down for certification. Today, we can continue working on content that would have been cut because we can patch fixes into the game. This results in overall buggier content and features on average at launch but it also results in significantly more content and features on average at launch than before.

[Join us on Discord] and/or [Support us on Patreon]

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Short questions: Ask a Game Dev on Twitter

Short questions: Ask a Game Dev on BlueSky

Long questions: Ask a Game Dev on Tumblr

Frequent Questions: The FAQ

[purplealmonds]

Hm. This takes some explaining. I shared this illustration of Kon-Kusu inheriting the role of Shingi on Twitter, and shirousagi_mono wrote a story inspired by that idea! And I in turn was inspired to translate that story and drew some supplemental visuals for it!

English transcript below the cut.

DISCLAIMER This started out as a self-indulgent project to clumsily translate this story for myself. However, I became so enamored with it that before I knew it, I drew not only cover art but also various illustrations for each part of this story. The scope of this project has expanded far beyond my initial expectations.

I am an artist, not a writer. Furthermore, I am not an expert at the Japanese language. As such, this translation is far from perfect. Although I used Google Translate and DeepL, there may be parts of the story which I may have completely misinterpreted. A lot of nuances of the Japanese prose were also surely lost in translation. I tried to replicate an approximation of it in English, but again, I am not an expert on such matters.

Despite that, I am incredibly happy that this overseas collaboration is happening at all, and that our shared passion for Mononoke was what facilitated this connection. I can only hope that through the supplemental illustrations, the original narrative intentions of the author comes through.

–––

“Forgive me.”

It hurts, it cries. It hurts, it hurts!

The demonic wailing rises to ear-splitting shrieks.

Unforgivable, unforgivable, unforgivable!

The passion imbued in those wretched cries weigh down like great albatrosses in my heart.

The more I wield my blade, the more my soul becomes entangled in these heady emotions. But I grit my teeth and endure, swallowing all resentment and disappointment, envy and jealousy.

It is indescribable. My sword cuts through the tenuous threads of karma binding these hateful spirits helplessly raining curses upon this world.

I have long forgotten how to pray. Closing my eyes in helpless grief, I am unable to do anything but slash away with that jet black blade swaddled within the flickering blue flame.

***

The pale light of the full moon dances across the rippling waves. I have long become accustomed to the prickling cold against my clammy skin. The water laps at my existence, my senses rippling like fading echoes through its vast expanse.

A voice calls out to me. “Shingi-sama.”

Opening my eyes, I resurface to reality. The muted roar of the waterfall reverberates in my pointed ears. The cascading torrents sweep away my scarlet locks shimmering like a thin film across the water’s surface.

There is a figure stood on a distant shore. I wade towards them, wringing out the moisture in my hair.

“Are you well?” they ask.

“I am fine.”

They hands me my robes, which I accept with a shallow bow and slip onto my still dripping frame. The moisture soaks through the white fabric almost immediately. As the shining crimson fades from my hair, my minder watches on with unadulterated adoration etched upon their face.

Flustered, they avert their gaze. That gesture fills me with a strange sense nostalgia. I cannot help but stare back as they towel down my dripping hair and loosely gather the red-and-white strands into a braid.

“Somehow, this routine is soothing to me,” they confess with a sheepish smile. “Your hair is quite curly.”

Indeed, as they card through my locks, they twist and curl like crackling wildfire through their deft fingers. In the moonlight, the faintest shade of wisteria emerges from those silken locks. My unruly hair tamed into a tidy bun, they step back to admire their neat handiwork with their moon-pale gaze.

The sight of that innocent look constricts my chest with an aching familiarity.

I vehemently shake my head at this resurgence of long-buried memories. Once rekindled, those embers flare up into uncontrollable flames searing painful recollections into my heart. I know these emotions all too well.

My throat constricts in defiance. No. These are tulmultuous emotions are not my own. Not anymore.

“I’m here,” I say, steely voice concealing my heart’s turmoil. “I’m sorry.”

Plucking the mirror hanging from the sash of my other half, I toss it upwards with a practiced motion. It defies gravity, hanging eye level mid air. As it rotates lazily, my face comes into view. But it is not a familiar visage.

The reflection that gazes back at me is missing the black sclera of the my eyes and the crimson markings adorning my skin.

The warped reflection, wracked with grief and pain, stares back at me with pleading eyes.

I call out its name, long lost to time. Its eyes widen.

“You do not belong here,” I say to my past self. “Not yet.”

I reach out to the mirror.

“Go home.”

I crush the it in my fist. The shards melt harmlessly and trickle like ephemeral moonlight between my fingers.

***

I wake with a start. Gasping for breath, I take stock of sensations to ground me. Sticky sweat runs in rivulets down my skin. My chest barely cages the frantic pounding of my heart. I sweep away the stringy mop of pale lavender hair obscuring my vision.

A comfortingly familiar hand reaches out to me. He must have been roused by my unexpected awakening. I return the touch, and he squeezes my palm reassuringly. At last, my gaze shifts to my lover, moonlit eyes framed by a curtain of pitch black hair.

Yes, one day this will be my fate. It feels strange to think of myself in the future tense with such grim certainty. These stolen moments of the present – how foolish was to take them for granted until now? Gazing past my eyes into the depths of my heart, the god of the Kun exorcism sword interrogates my loud thoughts.

“What did you see?” he presses. “What did you mean by ‘my fate’?”

I wince at the graveness of his voice, but comply. Turning my thoughts inwards, I attempt to recall my nightmare. But the moment I touch upon it, it dissipates like mist. I gape helplessly as the dream loses shape.

“I–” I stammer. “I don’t remember. But–“

My racing heart still echoes feverishly in my head. My eyes dart back to my god and soulmate. As he leans over me, his dark hair falls around me like a protective cage. My throat tightens with an inexplicable grief. Despite my fading memories, there is one thing I know for certain.

“I’m scared of losing you.”

As that confession spills from my lips, my eyes grow hot. A stifling fear threatens to tear out of my trembling frame. It is such a childish cliche. Once said aloud, those words will surely become a prophetic truth. I cling to my other half’s pale sleeve as if in desperate prayer. My inability to push him away in my moment of vulnerability fills my eyes to the brim with unshed tears.

Those moon-pale eyes widen. I am stunned by the emotion flickering past his usual stone-faced expression. Before I can think more of it, his large hand obscures my vision like the moon eclipsing the sun.

“Go back to sleep. Forget this ever happened.”

At that soft spoken benediction, the fear wracking my body is snatched away along with my fretful consciousness. His sad voice follows me into a dreamless abyss.

“You should not look into the future.”

If this was truly my future, is it worth continuing down this path? As my eyes drift shut, the desire to give voice to that fading question forms silent tears trickling down my cheek.

[chimera-dreams]

Tether Me - Chapter 1

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader

Summary: “Jesus!” You shrieked and jumped with all the elegance of a newborn fawn, spinning on your heel to find a head of blindingly white hair and pearly canines equally as eye-burning greeting you through a wide grin. Though you couldn’t see the man's eyes behind those curiously round shades of his, you could picture how his cheeks crinkled his hidden hues at the corners.

If any of the Greek or Roman gods were real, he’d outshine every one of them without breaking a sweat. 

“Not quite,” the unfairly gorgeous stranger replied with a snicker from where he leaned against the fence, “but I’m flattered.” CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here)

AN: no particular additional warnings for this chapter. I'll add new warnings for any chapters that might require them (for example, nsfw)

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3 | Ch: 4 | Ch: 5 - 1 | Ch: 5 - 2

WC: 15.3k

Seeing your new…home in the unforgiving glare of daytime made you realize that the realtor spent more time photoshopping the box of danger to make it appear appealing than actually selling it. Gave it to the first poor buyer that bit the bait and dashed off.

Said poor buyer was you. Apparently.

A rickety bamboo fence, chipped and scratched by god knows what, wrapped loosely around your property, the pathetic poles clinging to life by threads about as strong as spider silk. Quite the sad barrier. Honestly, you had no idea how it managed to remain upright this long at all. 

The description on the site you found it on was very, very vague with anything regarding the building. Even with your prodding, the most you generally got was “well, nobody died in it, and it’s still standing.”

Good enough for you, clearly, considering you slapped the Sold! sign on the damn listing yourself maybe 30 minutes and a glass of wine (or three) after finding the soggy, depressing shack.

Granny was right. This thing was a damn mess. It should have been condemned ages ago.

You couldn’t decide if it was bigger or smaller than you expected. Somewhat disproportionate was the best way you could put it. The terrain surrounding it was much more expansive than the photos showed, the boundaries only sort of marked out by the aforementioned sad barrier. It was considerably isolated, which you weren’t really complaining about, but you noted way too late that taking care of all that overgrown grass was going to be a nightmare on your back. Arms, too. Every part of your body, honestly.

The building itself had certainly seen better days, such as the day it was built, and perhaps the day after, if you were being generous. The agent was very shifty about exact details, but in his defense, this place was basically in the Bumfuck Middle of Nowhere, Japan, in likely one of the smallest countryside villages there was in the whole country.

You were also substantially intoxicated and ready to put down your life savings on anything.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to go that far, but you truly underestimated the scope of this ‘project’. The entire plot needed a fresh splash of paint at minimum. Ideally, you needed to shear the lawn of all those super pretty weeds that you were very tempted to just leave as is because they were so pretty, mhm, would be an absolute shame to get rid of them.

You’d need to clear out the stone path leading from the fence gate to your front door that you quite literally stumbled over last night. Or just toss the stones altogether, because fuck those things and whoever put them there.

The outer walls needed a good scrubbing, and another, and one more for good measure. Quite a few shingles on the roof showed signs of being ready to split your skull open with only a wayward breeze needed to push them off the edge. The hinges creaked horribly on every part of the building, enough so that you were certain the entire village would’ve been awoken by you tripping over yourself to get into the house had you not been a decent 10 or so minute walk from the closest cottage.

And all of this was just what was outside. 

That fence, ugly little shit that it was, was either going to become your worst nightmare, or a begrudging friend. 

You noted with mild interest that your house resembled western abodes more than Japanese ones.

Maybe if you kept the place rundown, people wouldn’t think to stop by your place unannounced. Ah, what a delight that would be. If you were lucky, nobody knew the property had been sold yet. If you were extra lucky, you could get your shopping done (plus whatever other errands you couldn’t do from home) by keeping your head down, and none would be the wiser to your existence.

Aside from Granny, of course. Kinda hard to hide from that woman now that she’d given you food off her own back. You needed to do something in return, but you set that on the back burner for now.

The interior required basically everything to be fixed up, that was non-negotiable. You refused to sleep on crusty wood floors and old tatami that had long since been glued to the surface beneath with gods know what. At the very least, you needed to somehow clean the floor. Preferably, mend the walls, plug any holes, get the pipes functioning if they weren’t already, and a whole other fuckin’ list of soul crushing deeds that needed completion.

Furniture, while questionably not a necessity for survival, was definitely a need for you. If only so you had something to sleep on other than the basically flat, nylon bag laid out in the corner of the room you gracelessly snored within.

But how?

You planted your hands on your hips and exhaled through your nose. “I wonder if Amazon ships to this place…”

A pipe dream, certainly; but, gods, would it make your life so much easier.

You could try to build your own furniture, but you trusted running with scissors more than you trusted your own potential handiwork. Which meant repairing the house itself on your own was likely a very bad idea.

“Ah, fuck,” you hissed as you realized the other shit you’d need to do aside from creating an actual proper space to live. “I’ll have to learn how to sew and garden and fucking carpent and everything…”

You groaned as you pictured every task that awaited you, and subsequently buried your face in your hands. Maybe you should have just torn the whole fucking thing down, bought a plastic shed from the nearest city, dragged it over, set it up, and called it home sweet home. You didn’t need that much space anyway, right?

“No, can’t regret this now, too late to regret this, you chose this,” your voice was muffled and grit out through clenched teeth. “Made your bed, now sleep in it, idiot.”

“Yeah, kinda dumb choice, if you ask me.”

An unexpected voice originated from behind you, startling the living daylights out of you and shooting your heart straight out of your body. 

“Jesus!” You shrieked and jumped with all the elegance of a newborn fawn, spinning on your heel to find a head of blindingly white hair and pearly canines equally as eye-burning greeting you via a wide grin. Though you couldn’t see the man's eyes behind those curiously round shades of his, you could picture how his cheeks crinkled his hidden hues at the corners.

If any of the Greek or Roman gods were real, he’d outshine every one of them without breaking a sweat. 

The warming late-spring wind grazed through the fluffy locks of his hair like the delicate touch of a lover’s hands, weaving through the fine strands and carrying his scent to you.

Mixed with the heat of the approaching humid season, you caught faint hints of sweetness, with an underlying minty tone and something you couldn't name. He was too far away for you to pinpoint the exact fragrance, but you had no intention of just skipping right over and shoving your nose against the junction of his neck to get a better whiff.

Or maybe his chest? The way he was slouching made it difficult to gauge his height, but you had a feeling he was a great deal taller than you, and the stout slope you stood on would do you virtually no favors.

The shiver that went up your spine at the thought was promptly ignored.

“Not quite,” the unfairly gorgeous stranger replied with a snicker from where he leaned against the fence, arms slotted between the bamboo sticks. How it held him up without crumbling into dust was a miracle in itself. “But I’m flattered.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you placed your hand against your chest, trying to will the wretched thing to calm down. Handling adrenaline was not your forte, much less from a scare like this. With your eyes narrowed, and only partially because of the accursed brilliance that was coming summer, you glared at the man. He was far too relaxed and cocky for your liking, still sporting that goofy grin that had you feeling things you didn’t want to address now.

Or ever.

“Who are you?” You queried.

“I should be asking you that, pretty girl.”

Your nose wrinkled incredulously. “Pretty girl?”

He chose to overlook your objection, instead nodding towards your house. “Never thought I’d get to witness this shithole get bought by anyone, let alone someone like you. Thought it’d get torn down sooner than have a hundred yen tossed towards it.”

Your eyes rolled. Hard. He wasn’t wrong, it was a shithole, but now it was your shithole. The less reminders about its miserable state of existence you had, the better. “Gee, thanks.”

“No problem.”

Completely against your will, you snorted. He was going to be a wonderful source of entertainment, or he was going to be a thorn in your side, just like the sickly sticks under his arms. The jury was still out on it.

You stared at one another for a few seconds that dragged on too long before you raised a brow. “Weeeell…?” You drew out the word.

His head cocked to the side. “Well?”

“Your name. You never told me who you are.” You knew it was polite to introduce yourself first, but fuck that, he scared the hell out of you. The responsibility was on him.

“Oh, right,” he straightened up, then bent forward with one hand to his chest and the other outstretched sideways in an extravagant bow. “Gojo Satoru, the very one and only. What about you, sweetheart?”

Pet names aside, there was a debate in your mind, an argument between whether you should give the admittedly attractive stranger your real name, or create one on the spot. You had done the latter in your later months of running all over your home country like a chicken without a head under the stupid belief that it'd further separate you from the anxieties clinging to your shins. 

You were paranoid. That was easy enough to decipher.

Your conscience had spawned this nerve wracking idea that those you ghosted – from scorned lovers who scarcely got further than kissing you, to the jobs and employers you abandoned suddenly – were after you. 

It left you constantly scanning your 6 from over your shoulder with the fear that they’d come chasing you down, eager to dig their claws into your paper-kite flesh and permanently force you down. You could visualize them tearing through your wings, winding layers of rope around your throat and knotting the dangling strings so tightly that not even the sharpest blade could break through the binds, much less let you breathe. So, you frequently lied about your identity as much as you could.

You inhaled slowly through your teeth, not enough to whistle, but enough to ground you. You were on the complete other side of the world, far away from those who would care to snarl and bare their fangs at your heels as they ran faster than you could – if there were any who desired to at all. You were somewhere new, somewhere unfamiliar, a place where nobody knew you, or could possibly know you by any means.

You told not a soul about where you’d gone. You never did. Like ash in the wind, you disappeared faster than anyone could blink, any memory of smoldering embers long forgotten.

Maybe…maybe you were safe to at least slip forth some truth about yourself.

Like most things you did nowadays, you told him your real name on a whim, and hoped it wouldn’t come back to bite you in the ass.

He hummed as he repeated it to you, as if testing it on his tongue, dipping in for a small taste. Then, that stunning grin returned, and your heart fluttered behind your ribs.

You stubbornly stamped your heel down onto it. You didn’t know why it decided to start acting up, but you were not going to entertain it.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he cooed. “What brought you here of all places? So rich you’re bored? Fell for a scam? One of those girly things?”

You scoffed.

“Or maybe you’re running from something.”

The blood in your veins froze over in an instant, your body going rigid as you stared at him. He…he couldn’t have known, right? The way he stated it, rather than asked – like he knew – had you struggling to swallow, to so much as twitch your fingers. There was no way. You– you were nobody, a blank slate, an outsider–

His head cocked to the side playfully, and the spell he had cast on you withered away as quickly as it came.

Finally able to breathe again, you vented out the air you unknowingly held and turned your face slightly away, hoping he didn’t catch your slip-up. “One of those girly things,” you settled, to which he nodded eagerly, as if you just confirmed the existence of a theory of his that ‘girly things’ were real.

Not that he was wholly wrong, technically, as you did have ‘one of those girly things’ urges from time to time. The desire to cut or dye your hair, pick up a new name, rearrange your room, or hop on a plane to the furthest fucking location you could imagine.

“Why’d you choose this…thing then?” Gojo jerked his chin towards the shabby hut.

“It was cheap,” you answered simply. 

He bobbed his head in acknowledgement. “Where are you staying?”

Your eyelashes fluttered as you blinked at him, your brow knitting. “...Here?”

“...Here.”

“Here.”

There was a brief pause, then he burst into laughter, his arms hugging his stomach. “Oh, god,” he wheezed. Personally, you couldn’t find what was so funny about the situation. “You serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

His finger slipped under the right lens of his glasses, presumably to wipe a tear away as he worked on calming himself down. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Fire flared in your veins as opposed to ice this time. “Hey!”

“I mean, seriously, who in their right mind would stay inside that thing?”

Your lip curled over your teeth in a snarl. “Oi–”

He bulldozed right along, completely ignoring you. “There’s gotta be, like, ghosts in there. Or a shit ton of spiders. Lots of spiders, actually.”

That got your attention. A shudder shot up your back and you squealed in fright, shaking off your hands to rid yourself of the phantom feeling of creepy crawlies on your skin. “Spiders?”

The milky-headed male nodded staidly. “Tons. And, y’know, the other obvious health hazards. I bet there’s asbestos in those walls.”

You opened your mouth to argue that your house had only been abandoned for 20 years, and that asbestos had been cut out of usage some 40 odd years ago, until you remembered that 1) asbestos didn’t immediately go out of use when the dangers were revealed, and 2) you house was abandoned 20 years ago, not built 20 years ago. Who knows how old it actually was? 

Given its appearance…

He must’ve seen the panic on your face, because he gave you a piercing smile, an expression you very swiftly understood was one of scheming. “You should come stay with me.”

The world halted around you for the seconds it took your mind to process what he said. “...Hah?”

“I said, you should come stay with me,” Satoru shrugged nonchalantly. “I have spare guest rooms.”

“I– you– stay with– what?” 

The grimace he gave your house could only be described as ‘execrating’. “I mean, come on, you’re not really thinking of staying there, are you? You’ll be sending yourself to an early grave like that, you’re too cute to die so soon. Just come stay at my place.”

Was he a murderer?

Your brain finally caught up with a click and you scowled. “Oh, yeah, that’s super safe,” you responded sardonically. “New girl in a new town full of total strangers with who-knows-what motives, lemme just go stay with the first guy that invites me to his home.”

“Come onnnn, you can trust me,” he whined, pouting.

“I literally just met you.”

The ease with which he gave up gave you whiplash, having expected him to keep pushing. “Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “Hey, did you know that your backdoor doesn’t have a lock?”

You paled.

Definitely something a murderer would say.

Your head whipped to gawp at your dwelling with wide eyes, a full on war raging through your head now.

On one hand, yes, he was a complete and total stranger. A hot one, but still an unknown entity who could just be buttering you up. Maybe the reason the house had been abandoned for so long was because anytime a new owner came in, they got snatched up by the handsome boy who invited them just like he invited you, never to be seen again.

He could have been lying about the lock – though it honestly didn’t matter, someone could probably just break through a wall if they pushed hard enough on it.

On the other hand, if he was telling the truth (how did he know that? Why?), he was the only person you knew even a little in this itty bitty isolated village (Granny doesn’t count). Anyone could go through that door at night and there you would be, wrapped up in your shitty, thin sleeping bag, prime kidnapping material. You basically did all the hard work by tying your own limbs right up yourself, easiest catch of the century.

At the very least, you knew Gojo’s name and face. Granted, the first item there was debatable, but he didn’t seem like the type to lie about his name – boast about it, more like. You’d be already acquainted with your would-be assailant, so it’d be nice to know the face of your kidnapper-slash-torturer-slash-killer, if only so you could punch a picture of it over and over in your afterlife, wherever death may take you.

You shifted your gaze to him and crossed an apprehensive arm over your chest, propping your elbow up on it while you pinched your chin in consideration.

There he was, the sly rat, wearing that dumb (cute) (no) grin of his as always, patiently awaiting your answer as if he already knew it. Nothing about him seemed inherently dangerous on the surface, but don’t they say serial killers are charming and charismatic people? He was a bit energetic for a murderer, though.

You weighed your options carefully. You could spend another horrid night in your house with the knowledge that there were likely insects everywhere, and possibly even asbestos in the walls, and who knows what else. You’d have to brush your teeth by using your water tumbler again, and…oh, fuck, you hadn’t even thought about the bathroom yet. How were you going to shower? Wash your face? Do your business? 

Then there was your poor excuse of a bed, more plastic than anything even remotely comfy. Same with the pillow, you might as well have been sleeping on the bare ass floor. Your neck ached at the thought. Then there was your food issue, your clothes, your devices…

You sighed.

“What’s the catch?” You questioned reluctantly.

He merely raised his hands in a shrug. “No catch.”

That was way too easy, but the prospect of an actual bed and a tidy (hopefully) homestead was too good to pass up, serial killer owner be damned.

Future you was just getting more and more tasks thrown at her, such as your new objective being to find an inn to live in while you figured out your home issues. And getting a job to afford said inn. But that was for way later, when you weren’t losing your goddamned mind.

“...Fine,” you surrendered. Like a pussy. Weak.

“Yippee!” Satoru cheered, somehow smiling wider. “Good girl, knew ya had a brain somewhere up there.”

Your stomach flip-flopped at the simultaneous praise and insult, confusing your head with emotions (and hormones) that you did not want to unpack. Cheeks reddening rapidly, you hissed at him through a tight jaw, shooing away the kindling something that pooled in your tummy. “You–”

“C’mon,” he interrupted you before you could even start, already turning to leave as he waved his hand over his shoulder, “I’ll show ya the way. Ain’t far from here.”

Flustered, you stuttered indignantly, watching him walk away. You shook your head in defeat and jogged to catch up to him, needing to speed walk to match his ridiculously long strides. “Oi, slow down! You’re too damn tall!”

“You’re just short,” he argued, his hands interlocking as they rested against the back of his head. “Pipsqueak.”

You gasped in offense as if you weren’t at tiddy-sucking height. “I am not a pipsqueak!”

“You totally are,” he purred, treating you like you were some sort of adorable pet. “I bet I could pick you up and throw you if I wanted.”

An unwitting laugh bubbled out of you, and for some reason, you decided to play this frivolous game of his. “I’d like to see you try.”

You immediately regretted it as he reached out for you with a shit-eating expression of absolute delight, making you yelp and race off ahead of him, screeching as he chased right after you.

“Wait, no, don’t!” Your voice rang clear, fright mixed with childlike thrill spreading to your limbs as you scurried down the open road. “I was kidding!”

“Get back here!”

The wind blew past your ears, tangled into your hair, followed the curves of your body as you darted about alongside it. You let it guide you, toy with the fabric of your shirt, cup your face with cool hands. You breathed deeply, and you flew, untethered and free and so overwhelmed.

Somewhere above, beyond the boundless and endless cerulean, a star flickered.

You screamed when you felt his hands pinch your waist, catching Satoru’s devilish gleam as he passed you, and suddenly, you were the one chasing him. He cackled as you tried to catch up to him, taunting you all the way. 

Curse his long legs. 

You wondered how he managed to keep talking so cleanly and easily while you were struggling to maintain your breath and gait.

All those years of metaphorical running, sadly, did not translate into actual, physical running. Air stung your throat, and you only faintly recognized that you were running after him through the village, more focused on keeping that head of ivory tresses in sight.

Yet, somehow, contrary to how concentrated you were on that task, he managed to slip from your view when he turned a sharp corner and seemingly passed through an invisible barrier of some kind. He had to, because when you turned that same corner just seconds later, he was nowhere to be found.

Slowing your sprint into a trot, then stopping altogether, you bowed over and planted one hand on your knee while the other clutched your side.

“Oh, god,” you groaned, your body aching in several places, both internal and external. “I almost regret skipping gym in school.”

Peeking up through your hair to check around, every part of the street you were on seemed innocuous, normal, without any obvious hiding spots Satoru might have jumped into. 

The vertically dominant fucker.

Cautiously, you marched forward, breathing heavily as you took slow steps. The game of cat and mouse had turned into hide-and-seek, and the sucker chose not to warn you. Granted, you would have done the exact same thing, but it was within your right to bitch about it, you were at several disadvantages.

The first alley was clear of anything, even objects. Nothing more than a small gap between two buildings, you doubted he would’ve managed to squeeze in there given how giant he was. Plus, where would he have gone even if he did wiggle into it? 

The next alley was the same story. There was more space, but very little within said space, only a couple crates that were too small to hide him. Again, giant.

Everything, you belatedly realized, was completely uncharted territory to you. You should have listened to Granny and explored the village first. But, if you had, maybe you wouldn’t have a real bed to sleep in tonight. Presumably. You were putting too much faith into Gojo being genuine about the bed – and not being a serial killer – otherwise you were sleeping outside.

“Bastard.” The pain in your hip subsided and you righted yourself, inspecting every direction for any indication of white hair. It would be significantly difficult to hide that feature in an area like this, where pretty much everything had a neutral-dark colored theme, and most people had black or brunette hair.

You wondered why he was towheaded. A question for another day.

He was a magician, or trickster, you ruled, rather than acknowledging the fact that he knew this town far better than you did and likely would for a while to come. 

Grumbles passed through your lips as you stood akimbo, squinting at everything skeptically. “Where the hell–”

“Boo!”

You swear your soul ascended. You could picture the trail it left behind as it rose into the heavens, pulling with it a choked croak of terror from you. The sound could hardly be considered a shout, you resembled a frog more than you did a goat in the screaming department.

Demented cackling erupted behind you as you leapt forward and clutched your chest, swinging around to glower at the boy in utter disbelief. Twice now he had done this. Twice! Beside yourself, you rushed over towards him and smacked his arm repeatedly, which only fueled his laughter. “Dick!”

“Fuck!” Satoru heaved, reaching his whistle register. “Priceless! Oh, my god, you should have seen your face.”

“I’m gonna kill you!” The threat was far less menacing than you wanted when your own voice was as squeaky as his. 

By the time he calmed down, you were both panting – you out of chagrin (and for the sake of your poor heart), and him to get precious oxygen back to his smooth brain. 

“I’m serious about that, by the way,” you pouted at him. “I’m gonna kill you for scaring me. Again.”

He beamed at you and reached to pat your head, but was intercepted by your hand, only to dodge around it and manage to get a few head pats in anyway. “Sure you will, sweets.”

You growled and stomped a few steps away, stopped, then whirled back around when you remembered you had no idea where you were going. He simply crossed his arms over his chest and scrutinized you with that stupid, supercilious visage.

“Go on,” he encouraged eagerly. “Ask.”

The inside of your cheek was going to be sore from how much you were chewing it. You were at an impasse; let him win, or try to find his place on your own. With no idea what it looked like. Or what direction to even go.

You imagined you’d have better luck wearing a blindfold if you tried the latter option. Either way, he was going to win, you could acknowledge that. Conceding and requesting his continued guidance meant handing over his victory on a silver platter, or he’d get some decent entertainment out of watching you try to figure out where the hell he lived.

Gods, you were regretting moving here already.

“Show me how to get to your house,” you mumbled.

The tall freak fake-cooed at you. “Aww, come on, you can do better than that.”

If glouting could kill, you would be slow-roasting him over a grill. In the meekest voice you could manage, you muttered, “please.”

“Hmmm?” He canted closer towards you. “Didn’t quite catch that.”

You could feel your sanity draining like sand in an hourglass. Just to get it over with, you spoke properly. “Please show me how to get to your house.”

The jubilant grin he gave you had you reconsidering that blindfold idea you had. “Better! Good girl, come along, now.”

Oh, your insides could just melt.

No, you argued with yourself as you trailed behind him, reluctantly obedient. You are not getting horny over that, you sad sack of potatoes. You’re just pent up. A pretty boy calls you a good girl and you’re a sobbing mess under your pants.

Pathetic.

He whistled a sharp tune as he lazily led you, weaving around the architecture in such a way that you knew you never would have found the damn place on your own – or find your way back, for that matter. He was doing this on purpose to get you confused just to fuck with you, you knew it. 

You were placing a lot of stock in him not being a murderer.

“Keep up, shortie,” he waved his fingers over his shoulder. “We’re almost there.”

Taking a (albeit mild) hike up a road traveling up the mountainside was not something you expected nor planned for. Now you were lamenting skipping gym. Not that participating more in exercise over a decade ago would help you currently, but at least you’d be able to believe you were stronger than this.

Satoru watched you with no small amount of amusement as you finally caught up to his still figure, lips curved. “Man, you suck at this.”

“I didn’t exactly study hiking in school,” you grumbled, closing your eyes and breathing deep.

“I’d hardly call a walk ‘hiking’,” he commented, and you wimpishly smacked his arm. “We gotta work on your stamina.”

You could hear the smirk and underlying innuendo without needing to see his stupid, handsome face.

“In your dreams, pretty boy,” you muttered.

“How do you know what I dream about?”

Your eyes popped open to glare at the man as he fluttered his lashes and pressed his fingers to his chest. “You’re a menace,” you scowled, ignoring his faux ‘innocence’ in favor of looking ahead.

And getting the wind utterly knocked out of you.

This grandiose mansion was where he lived?

Balking, you stared up at his house from beneath the arch of the moon gate in front of it, taking in the sheer magnitude and extravagance of it, even from just the outside. A variety of leafy trees, well trimmed bushes, and aromatic flowers decorated it in precise symmetry, each individual blade of grass nipped to preeminence. 

There was a garden off to the left, freshly tended to and beautiful with a pond in the center. You couldn’t see what was in it, but you wouldn’t be surprised if koi fish were there as well.

A partially shaded gazebo stood on the other side, right next to a gentle creek that trickled leisurely. A stone table sat in the center, and you could imagine drinking tea in the early morning there, when the sun would hit it at the right angle to warm you up.

The aesthetic was prizewinning; a wonderful, skillful mix between traditional and modern, all incorporated into a house you thought could only exist in one of those style magazines.

How long had it been here? How had it been built so extravagantly? How much did it cost?

All these painfully curious questions, yet, the first thing you thought to say when you opened your mouth…

“You said it was nearby,” you pouted. “This is the other side of town.”

“Eh?” He glanced down at you. “Doesn’t seem that far to me.”

Your index finger flicked the outside of his thigh. “That’s because you’re a walking tree.”

Gojo slapped his thigh in the same spot, beaming at you. “These are good for a lot of things.”

“I’m sure,” the unamused deadpan you gave him had him snickering.

That shit-eating grin was back and he waggled his brows. “I could show you.”

“Pass,” you rolled your eyes, addressing his house instead. “Why is your house so far away from the village? Up the whole ass mountain and everything.”

He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Dunno. It was built here a long time ago. Obviously upgraded over the years, duh, but if I had to guess, it’s because of the hot spring. The rest of the village just built lower down the path for convenience, or they were intimidated by the Gojo name.”

“Hot spring?” You furrowed your brow. 

Nonchalant as always, he nodded. “Yeah, there’s a natural hot spring in the backyard.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say you have a hot spring in your backyard?”

Being the rich boy that he was, he cocked his head to the side and spared you an inquisitive peek, as if to say ‘you don’t have one?’ “Yeah? You wanna see?”

“Uh, yes?” You gawked shamelessly.

Satoru grinned and beckoned for you to follow, and you skipped right along behind him, barely managing to remind yourself to hurriedly take off your shoes at the door. You had to force yourself to be careful and line them up neatly. You also used this chance to eye the obviously rich-people footwear. You wouldn’t hesitate to bet that one pair alone was worth more than one of your kidneys.

All worries of him being a potential monster dashed out the window as you let him lead you through the winding halls to a shoji door near the back of his house – you had to guess, you were not paying attention at all. You were too focused on the expensive decor and feeling way out of place.

The scenery that greeted you as soon as the door slid open had you stopping dead in your tracks in shere awe.

He hadn’t been lying, there really was a hot spring in his backyard. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care about his smug expression, mindlessly allowing him to gently push you forward with a hand to the small of your back.

“Close your mouth, you’ll start drooling,” he teased.

Your jaw clicked shut and you shot him a half-hearted glare before your attention returned to the pool of steaming water ahead of you.

The entire area was gorgeous, honestly. Round stone circles created a path along gravel from the engawa to the basin, which was surrounded mostly by rocks with plants growing between cracks and around the base here and there. Massive pines encompassed the entire area, giving you the sensation of safety and protection.

A trail on the side led somewhere else, winding between mounds of perfectly maintained green terra, though that was of insignificant interest to you at the moment.

An instruction was murmured against the shell of your ear, and you wordlessly and thoughtlessly obeyed. “Look up.”

“...Oh.”

High above, between the gaps in the trees, you had a prime view of the sky, spanning across the ring the forest created, deep and wondrous and so…clear. The brightest blue you had ever seen. If the moon got caught just right, exactly in the middle, you believed magic would happen.

The towering pines kept the area shaded and pleasantly cool, and you were swept away by the urge to sink into the hot spring and let everything else fade away. 

When you lowered your chin to look at him, you found he was already gazing at you, his grin softened to a small upturn of his lips at the corners. He was just so…divine. Moonflower hair framed his face, cottony and fluffy, and though you couldn’t see his eyes clearly through the indigo tint of his shades, you could feel them. They were piercing, capable of seeing right through your skin and witnessing your heart beating as it stuttered and struggled to regain its footing. 

The way he studied you felt so familiar.

An intense watch, pinned directly on you, making the hairs on your nape stand.

You yearned to see his hues without the barrier his dark, round glasses provided, and you wondered if they could rival those of the sky, or the gods’. 

“Whatcha think?” He asked silkenly as he leaned forward and tilted his head to be closer to you.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured in response without really thinking, the words flowing out of you without your conscious action. “It’s like a dream.”

You weren’t sure if you meant the eden you were brought to, or the heavenly being beside you. Either way, he smiled radiantly at you and nudged your shoulder lightly with his own.

“Wanna touch it?”

Your lashes fluttered as you tried to come back to yourself and not let your mind wander to places you could not reach. “The hot spring?”

“Mhmm.”

It took a considerable amount of effort to tear your eyes off of him and set them back on the cirque of water hidden beneath mist. Like a siren’s song, you slipped on the outdoor slippers nearby and stepped off the engawa, pacing along the stone path. It was smoother, flush with the terrain, unlike the haphazardous placements of the ones you had at your own home.

The pool was milky, tinted with a rich, capri shade, reminding you instantly of a lagoon, or a salt flat mirroring the zion above that went on as far as the eye could see. A miniscule waterfall trickled placidly from the highest outcropping, following the narrow and shallow path it had carved for itself over countless years.

You resisted the urge to cup it in your hands and drink it like sacred nectar.

At the edge, you knelt down and skimmed the tips of your fingers across the water’s surface. Goosebumps broke out across your arm and you shuddered inadvertently. Heat spread over your palm as steam coiled around you, surrounding you partially in a cocoon of warmth. The temperature bordered on the line between too hot and not enough finely, urging you to crawl beneath the water’s cusp and embrace the cradle of coziness.

“Good, isn’t it?” Gojo startled you as he spoke from where he knelt down next to you. He seemed to be proficient at scaring the shit out of you. This close, you could detect his attar clearly, and the last part of his unique fragrance finally fell into place.

Lemon.

He smelled like sweet lemons and mint.

“Yeah–” you squeaked, and cleared your throat to try again. “Yeah, it’s really nice. Like…perfect, actually.”

He snickered and dipped his hand into the diaphanous liquid, bringing it back up to splash it onto your arm. With a cry of mock offense, you splashed him right back, cracking up as you managed to get a decent scoop into his mouth. 

You didn’t know what it was about him. Rightfully, you’d only been aware of each other for less than two hours, but it felt like you’d known him your whole life. The banter flowed easily, the games you hadn’t played since you were so young that you could only vaguely remember, the way he spoke to you, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

No heavy feelings sat on your chest, creaking the brittle bars of your ribcage, filling you with an innate sense of dread and desire to flee and never stop for a second. Nothing of the sort crossed your mind. No rock weighed in the pit of your stomach, no widow’s voice murmured in your ear.

It was just you and him, in a bubble of time where nothing and everything mattered all at once. Every breath you took was meaningless, yet held the weight of the world. Every twitch of his fingers could rest even the weariest souls, or rend the sky apart should he ever care to. 

But he didn’t, and neither did you. 

This pocket-sized domain of serenity you found yourself in brought forth dormant feelings of ease and comfort. 

They didn’t feel like a mask painted on to cover the blooming, spreading bruises under your skin and behind your solar plexus. They didn’t feel like a temporary setup to sate your mind until the panic overwhelmed you all over again.

Rather, they composed a nest of the finest blankets you’d ever touched, let alone slept within. You wanted to crawl in and close your eyes and hibernate, sleep as life passed you by. You wanted to live in this moment forever.

The shoulder of his shirt grew damp where he rubbed his curled lips against it. “Kitty’s got claws, huh?”

“Fangs, too,” your nose scrunched up as you gave him a sly, Cheshire cat smile. “I’ll let you kill me if you let me use your hot spring first.”

“Deal.”

You snorted. “Not even gonna dispute it, huh?”

“I’m assuming the ‘kill’ part is optional here.”

“I won’t push my luck then,” you accepted as you stood up, shaking any excess moisture off your hand. Upon remembering Granny, you pulled out your phone from your purse, tsking at the 47% charge level in the top right corner, then glanced at the time. Midday.

Satoru peeped over your shoulder after he rose up. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“Time,” you replied, shooing him away to stop him from being nosy. Not that you really had anything worth hiding. 

Most of the pictures on your phone were photos you’d taken of the outside world during your trips, random things that meant something at the time you snapped the pic, but meant absolutely zip now, or blurry images of animals that refused to stay still for you.

“Granny wanted me to explore the town to get more familiar with it, then stop by for lunch,” your phone locked with a click as you stuffed it back in your bag and continued your explanation.

He whistled. “Adopted by Granny, and on your first day, too? That’s impressive, means you’re special.”

“Eh?” Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Why? She seems like she’d be a nice person to everyone.”

He chuckled as you both headed back into his house. “Granny’s a prickly lady. Don’t get me wrong, she cares about everyone in the village,” he reassured you as he let you step in first and slid the door shut behind him, “but mostly in a ‘I-will-throw-my-shoe-at-you’ kind of way.”

“Huh,” that didn’t sound too far off from Granny, given what you knew, but you had also only met her that morning. “She gave me free food and told me she’ll have a list of handymen when I go back today.”

“Wow. She won’t even let me steal a candy bar from her store, and I’ve known her my whole life. Must mean you’re really special.”

“There’s a difference between buying and stealing, Gojo,” pausing in your steps, you frowned as contemplation came over you. “...Do you think she thinks I’m incompetent?”

“Probably.”

“Gojo!” You hissed at his lackadaisical response.

His hands raised in surrender. “Kidding, kidding! I think it just means she likes you. C’mon, I’ll show you around town.”

Following his actions, you tugged your shoes on while you thought aloud. “I didn’t even do anything. Walked around her store like an idiot and nearly ran into her.”

You stepped out of the house behind him, waiting for his response. You had expected him to laugh and indeed confirm that you were an idiot (which would be twice that day, if you were keeping proper track), or come up with another quip to taunt you with, but he was quiet, pondering something.

“You have this…aura about you,” he eventually responded. “You’re different.”

“In what way?” You approached the topic carefully, wondering if that was a good or bad thing.

His shoulders lifted and dropped. “Dunno, I’m not good with words. You’re just different. You’re easy to like.”

The incline down from his house back to the village was easier than going up it, a slow slope that followed a mild curve. The road was smooth, free of cars. Those you had seen were parked along the streets below, and not often used from what you could tell. The walk gave you time to consider his words.

You’d heard them before, but nobody ever clarified how you differed from others. He said you were likable, so you chose to believe he meant it in a good way. You’d try to pry more information out of him at some point to sate your cautious curiosity.

“How long have you been here?” You asked instead to change the topic, then winced, remembering that he mentioned his family had been here for a long time.

“Eh,” he tilted his hand side to side a few times. “Maybe 15 or so years, including my baby years.”

Oh. Turns out you were…wrong?

“You weren’t born here?”

“No, I was,” he corrected. Ah, so you were. “I just spent a few school years in Tokyo before returning not too long ago.” Sort of.

“Oh, I see,” mindlessly, you took his hand when he offered it to help you step over a gap at the bottom of the hill. His palm radiated warmth, one you missed when he pulled away and continued leading you along. “Why’d you come back?”

“Missed home.” Your gaze met his when he shot you a glance from over his shoulder. “What about you, sweets? Where'd ya come from?” Upon your answer, he nodded. “Came a long way to get here, huh?”

It’s probably best if I don’t tell him why I came here. Not yet. Not ever. “You could say that,” you responded, stopping when he did. You were grateful that he didn’t push the topic.

He pointed towards something, and you angled forward to see around his body, listening carefully as he explained what was where as he guided you through the winding streets.

“Doctor lives there,” you raised a brow at the full body shudder he experienced. “She can get scary when she’s mad. Otherwise, chill person.”

“Noted.”

While you were curious about the doctor of this village, you had no intention of meeting her by ending up in her clinic after doing something moronic, like tripping on those stupid stones outside your front door. Or walking in purely to introduce yourself. That’d be weird.

As he pointed out various family homes, stores, and miscellaneous locations, he listed off names you definitely weren't going to remember anytime soon. You found it endearing that he knew everyone and shared some tidbits of gossip with you – “Auntie Furiko lives there and she totally has a grudge against Mirio-san for stealing her man.” – and he even imparted some knowledge about a few historical places and things in the village, such as the bridge over the river having been built some 400-odd years ago. 

“It was originally built as a passage that only allowed humans through,” he explained. “Back then, cursed spirits were a common thing, so the founders here created a path that had a sort of invisible wall that cursed spirits and objects couldn't get through. Like a curtain.”

“Huh,” you responded plainly as you examined the bridge. “Couldn't the spirits just go through the river?”

His candytuft hair fluffed as he shook his head. “The veil goes around the entire village, the bridge was just there for convenience's sake,” he cocked his head towards you. “But those are just legends and stories. There's plenty of tales about jujutsu sorcerers that could see the cursed spirits and eradicate them. Some people still believe cursed spirits and sorcerers are a thing, and blame disasters, like earthquakes and tsunamis, on them.”

You raised a curious expression. “Do you believe in that?”

Satoru shrugged. “To me, it’s like believing in ghosts or demons. Even if they are real, there's no way they'd beat me,” of course, he said that last bit with full-bodied, unadulterated confidence. “I'm the best.”

A fond snort escaped you. An egomaniac as a new friend(?), that seemed exactly like the kind of trouble you'd get yourself into.

Your eyes shifted over to peer at the Wayo Kenchiko edifice situated higher up, reminding you of the wonder you felt when you first saw it.

You turned fully towards it and tugged on Gojo’s shirt to draw his attention to it as well, your interest taking precedence as you regarded it. “Hey, what’s that?”

“Hm?” He followed your line of sight. “The temple?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s technically a shrine,” he clarified. “It was built when the settlers first got here, dedicated to the wolves of the mountains.”

You squinted at him. “Wolves?”

He nodded eagerly. You never would have guessed him to be somewhat of a history buff. “Yep. Wolves are like…guardian dogs. They’re long gone now, but way back then, it's said they hunted alongside the settlers. Wolves are seen as messengers for mountain gods, so people would pray to them for safety, good hunts, and good harvests.”

You nodded as you followed along. “So you guys primarily farm here, then?”

“More or less. Though we do get a lot of imported stuff from the neighboring city, like the things in Granny’s store. We do mostly exports there. It’s where a lot of the people in this village work.”

“Really?” You frowned slightly. “Isn’t that city, like…an hour or so from here?”

He acceded and tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, why?”

“Just seems like a far way to go for work.”

Gojo shrugged as he started walking again, leading you further into town. “Keeps our village alive and well. We gotta keep up with the times, ya know?”

“Suppose so,” you acquiesced. “What do you guys farm here?”

“Ehh, rice and soya, I think,” the teasing twist of his lips had you preemptively rolling your eyes. “Surprised you didn’t know that, girlie; moving to a new place you know nothing about seems risky.”

“I didn’t exactly spend my time digging into the dirt of every single person here, y’know.”

He snickered. “I have dirt on everyone. You want some gossip?”

You huffed. “I’d rather meet someone first before you air their dirty laundry to me. I wanna have an unbiased palate.”

“Oh, so you want to meet the people in this lil’ valley of ours?”

“No,” you replied automatically, then pressed your lips tightly together at your minor flub. “I meant– it’s not– I’m just not–”

His boisterous laughter cut you off, simultaneously making your eye twitch and relief flood you.

“Relax, pretty girl,” he patted your head and you scowled. “I’m just teasin’ ya.”

“I’m seriously going to kill you.”

“Cute,” he crooned, and you groaned.

By the time you two walked up to your kind-of-not-really-grandmother’s shop, you were starting to become familiar with this particular section of road. From here, you knew how to get ‘home’, something you were dreading a touch. You weren’t looking forward to seeing the catastrophe that awaited you.

“And this is where I leave you for now,” he stopped with you in front of the store.

You frowned minutely, an uncomfortable pang of disappointment settling in your chest. “You’re not coming in?”

“Nah,” Gojo shook his head. “Got stuff I need to do. I’ll have someone pick you up from your house later, once you get your stuff. Gimme your phone for a sec.”

Your brows knitted together as you pulled out your phone and unlocked it for him. His fingers grazed yours as you passed the device, causing you to shiver at the temperature difference. They were so warm – or maybe your hands were cold. The touch lingered on your skin, your mind clinging to the tiny wisp of sensation.

The screen of your phone coming back into your line of sight brought you back from mildly zoning out. Almost uncertain, you took it back from him and peered at the screen to see what he did.

You snorted.

He set up his own contact in your address book, making it extra flashy and everything, too. ✨❤️Satoru���️✨ graced your sight, and you couldn’t help but feel like that wasn’t the first time he had done this, the flamboyant clown.

“There,” he grinned. “Text me when you’ve got your stuff from your place.”

Stuffing the device back into your purse, your moue returned. “You want me to bring my shit to your house?”

His brow raised in response. “Uh, yeah? Were you just gonna leave it in that drab hut?”

“Well, I just thought I’d get a room at an inn or something tomorrow, so I don’t have to bother you.”

The usually bright expression on Satoru’s face fell somewhat, his voice taking a earnest tone when he said your name. The back of your neck tingled at the chime of your name passing through his lips. “You’re not a bother. Seriously, I have more space than I know what to do with. You can stay at my place as long as you need, I insist.”

His change in demeanor threw you for a loop. There was something lying under the surface of his countenance, hidden under layers of a façade wrapped too tightly around his inner being for you to ever hope to see what was beneath. The switch from goofy to sincere struck you as odd, and while you could have jumped back on the ‘he’s a psycho’ train of thought, his insistence didn’t resemble that of a hunter panicking about losing his prey.

Rather, it stemmed from a genuine offer made out of concern for your wellbeing. Sure, he could have been hiding some intentions (he definitely was), but he did show you the path to his house, convoluted as it was, at least some of its interior, and even the hot spring carved behind it. When you mentioned Granny, he seemed amused, rather than worried, and showed you around these confusing and interesting backwoods.

Thinking about the whole mess you had gotten yourself into, what with buying a house in a province you knew nothing about, and your limited funds, an uneasy heaviness sat in your gut. If he was suggesting an option of solace and shelter while you figured your shit out, you had very few reasons to decline.

A bit too readily, perhaps, you set aside any preconceived notions you had about him being suspicious and nodded. “Alright. Thank you, Gojo.”

“Just Satoru is fine,” that smug visage returned, all earlier signs of sobriety fading as quickly as they came. He turned back towards the way you came from, waving over his shoulder lazily. “See ya later, sweets.”

You spied on him for a while, until he disappeared around a bend, and sighed. Considering everything that happened so far, you surmised you were in way over your head.

The doorbell to Granny’s store pinged a sweet tune as you stepped in, finding the familiar scene nearly untouched from before. The air inside was pleasantly cool compared to outside, encouraging you to relax.

“Granny?” You called out as you stepped further in, glancing down the first aisle. “Are you here?”

“Ah!” The woman you were searching for called out from a separate room, appearing through a door you hadn’t noticed at the back of the store before, carrying a bento box. “Perfect timing, I finished that list for you.”

She beckoned you towards her as she rounded the counter, setting the bento box down on top of it and digging around for something under the tabletop before straightening and holding out a sheet of paper for you to take. Your fingers closed around the yellow notebook sheet and you peered down at the writing. 

You silently thanked her for having a neat hand, as you were a tad rusty on your hiragana.

A row of names spanned down the paper, along with numbers next to each one. She had also included their specific occupations, making your life that much easier. 

“Those are some folks in this village that can help you out. Unfortunately, most of them work in the city, so I fear you might not be able to fix up your house so soon,” Granny noted solemnly as began untying the beautifully designed furoshiki wrapped around, presumably, your food. “Let me call up a friend to find you a place to stay for the time being.”

“Oh, n-no, it’s fine, Granny!” You raised your hands in front of you. “I actually found somewhere to stay.”

She raised a brow at you. “With whom?”

The nervous laugh you let out was meek and not very reassuring. “I, uh…ran into Gojo Satoru, and he offered to house me. I was gonna find an inn, but…’

A perturbed expression morphed her stern features. “Really? Little Satoru offered to house you?”

Little was a gnarly stretch on her part, considering Satoru easily dwarfed both of you. “Is that bad?”

Granny sighed and shook her head as she finished undoing the cloth. “Not necessarily. He’s a troublemaker, that one, but…well, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him invite someone who isn’t one of his close friends to stay with him before.”

“Huh,” Your lips curled downwards. Were you actually so unique that he treated you differently than others? “He’s a bit…” You fumbled with your words, trying to find the right description. “Dramatic, for lack of a better word, but he showed me around and said he’ll have someone pick me up later.”

Her movements had slowed as she kept her eyes on you while popping open the box, studying you. She grabbed the pair of chopsticks in the lid and held the food towards you, which you took without fuss and with a quick ‘thank you’. The length of silence was beginning to unsettle you, so you tried to cover it by taking a bite of the katsu she prepared for you.

And maybe groaning tacitly because, fuck, was it good. Astounding, otherworldly, you would bet easy money that no 5-star restaurant could compare to Granny’s cooking.

Eventually, she spoke again, albeit puzzling you. “It’s no wonder you caught their attention. You are a beautiful, bright young woman.”

Your chopsticks hovered mid-bite. “‘Their’?”

“Mhmm,” the older lady nodded and tsked fondly as she grabbed a hand towel and wiped down a portion of the already spotless surface under her hands. “There’s two of them.”

A pin could drop in the room and it’d be deafening with the silence created by your shock. “There’s two Gojo’s?” 

Her amusement turned into full blown laughter. “No, but there might as well be.” she corrected herself. “Those two are stick at the hip–”

The jingle of the bell over the door and the call of someone cut her off. You turned to watch as an attractive woman with mid-length brunette hair stepped into the room, carrying a box in her arms. Were all the people in this town contemptuously stunning? “Granny, I got the–” she stopped promptly upon seeing you. “You’re new.”

You nodded and your pseudo-grandmother introduced you. 

“I see,” the brown-haired girl said with a nod. “Well, nice to meet you. I’m Ieiri Shoko, your local doctor and mortician. Just call me Shoko.”

So, this was the doc– wait, what?

Your eyes widened. “...Mortician?”

“Correct,” Shoko grunted as she dropped the hefty box on the floor with a grunt. “Which means you shouldn’t do something stupid or piss me off unless you want to end up in my morgue.”

Now you had two reasons to fear her, counting Satoru’s warning. “Duly noted.”

Your gaze followed her as she reposed against the nearby wall, crossing her arms over her chest. “When’d you get in?”

“Last night.”

“Helluva place to settle,” she commented. “What brought you here of all options?”

Settle.

I’m not so sure about that.

You chewed another piece of katsu and swallowed before answering. “Population. I’m not a very big people-person.”

A smile lifted her lips and she exhaled through her nose. “You and me both, girl. If you wanna be as far away from mass civilization as possible, this is the best place to be. Second only to going nomad and living in a forest alone like a witch.”

She sighed wistfully, and you had the sneaking suspicion that part of her yearned for that kind of lifestyle. “Looks like you’ve thought about it before.”

“I have, but this town is full of idiots that need me, or they would have died a long time ago.”

“Shoko, be nice,” Granny scolded half-heartedly, though you could spot the amusement in her eyes.

“What? I’m not wrong,” Shoko averred as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. 

Just as she went to open it, Granny swatted her hands and gave her a scathing glare. “Not inside, Shoko. Really, go outside, at least.”

The doctor/mortician grumbled as she stuffed the box back where it came from, giving Granny a weak stink eye. “Anyways, welcome to this miniature province of ours, girl.”

“Thanks.”

“Mm,” she acknowledged, then began a lecture. “Avoid the west trail that goes past the village boundary and up the mountain. Nothing bad there, just has this weird smell to it. Probably haunted by some shit,” Shoko informed you. “Also muddy half the year. Grandma Ai can and will talk your ear off if you stop for more than a second. Good luck getting away from her if she ever catches you.”

You munched slowly as you listened to her advice intently. In any of the cities you stopped by, there weren’t really any communities – not like this, anyway – so you were fascinated by the dynamics these people displayed.

Yes, you were wary, sure, but learning about the town’s intricately interwoven families and neighbors didn’t mean you were getting close to anyone. If anything, it meant you could avoid attachments.

…Right?

Yes. Right.

“–Wednesday is trash collection day, but you might have to bring your trash closer into town if you’re too far out. Oh, and don’t go to the park on Thursday nights–”

You blinked yourself back into full awareness. Your safe haven the park was off limits now? “Wait, why?”

She humbled you with a deadpan that had you straightening your back, imploring you to obey. “Aoi and her boyfriend like to fuck there on Thursday nights.”

“Tch,” Granny clicked her tongue, glaring at Shoko. “Don’t be so crass. We have a guest.”

“Ah, don’t worry,” you waved off her concern. “I don’t mind. I appreciate the forewarning. Besides,” your lips curled into a playful smirk aimed towards Shoko, “I like when people are straightforward.”

She returned the grin with a sly one of her own. “You and I are gonna get along well.”

Similarly to Satoru, speaking to Shoko was easy. It felt like you were reconnecting with old friends – friends you knew when you were unfledged and barely remember anything about, but the link was there.

She nodded as your conversation concluded and pushed herself off the wall, evidently needing to return to where she came from. “Well, if you need me, you know where to– ah, wait, you don’t.”

Shoko patted down her body, presumably in search of her phone or a notepad, but you reassured her hastily. “No, it’s fine! I do, Gojo showed me around earlier.”

Her head whipped up so quickly, you worried she might have snapped it when you heard it crack. “Oh, god, you already met that idiot?”

The short laugh you let out was undignified. “Yep. He’s very noticeable.”

“You can say that again,” she grumbled. “Please don’t tell me he did something dumb and embarrassed himself, or weirded you out. Don’t pay attention to him, he’s just like that.”

“Well, he said I could stay at his place since the house I got is in…less than favorable condition.”

She stilled on the spot, her brows slowly coming together in a visage of utter confusion. “...What? He said you could stay with him?”

“Is he a murderer?” You questioned, only half joking. “I knew it.”

“No, no, he’s not, he’s just…” She turned her gaze to Granny. “Did you know about this?”

“I’m as surprised as you are,” Granny responded.

Your tummy shifted uneasily. “Is…that a bad thing?” You knew Granny said it wasn’t earlier, but you had to ask again.

“No, not really…” Shoko was not easing your nerves whatsoever. “Just unusual.”

“How come?”

She pulled her lips to the side in consideration. “Gojo Satoru is someone who…likes to hide things.”

“Oh, so he is a murderer.”

She demurred at your conclusion. “Last I checked, no. Regardless, he can be kind of a dick sometimes, so don’t take any of his more outlandish shit to heart, yeah?”

You bobbed your head loosely, your mind already off creating heinous conspiracy theories about your benefactor. “Yeah. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Mm, it’s no problem,” she approached you and held out her hand. “Gimme your phone, I’ll give you my number. You can text me if he tries to pull some shit with you.”

Getting a strong sense of déjà vu, you handed her your phone and watched as she punched in her number, then called her phone to get your number as well. Yours was back in your hands in record time, contact set to just her name.

“There. I gotta head off for now, it was nice to meet you, girl,” Shoko waved to you and Granny as she disappeared through the door.

Soft huffing from behind you had you peek at the woman. “What?”

“It’s nothing,” Granny appeased. “Just seems you’ve had an eventful first day here, no?”

“No kidding,” you mumbled, pouting when you saw that you had finished your food. She took the empty box from you, pleased by it being practically licked spotless. “Thank you, it was really delicious.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed your meal,” she nodded. She must have put a lot of effort into it.

A thought occurred to you then. “Granny, do you know where I could possibly get a job?”

She raised a brow at you. “You want to work?”

“Well, yeah,” you scratched your cheek. “I’d try to find a job online, or the city, but I don’t really know what kind of work I can get with the first option, and I don’t have a car or anything for the second one.”

Her fingers cupped her chin in consideration. “How about you work here?”

“In your store?”

“Yes,” Wait, that easily? “I could always use more hands here. I’m getting up there in age, and my hands ache often. You’d be helping me a lot.”

“Are you sure…?” You gave her a concerned mien, subconsciously flicking your eyes down to her hands. “I don’t wanna take from you more than I already have.”

Granny merely brushed away your worries. “Nonsense. I could use the company, too.”

Okay, now you were starting to get suspicious. Things were lining up too well.

Well, you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, but considered keeping your guard up.

“Alright,” you agreed, if somewhat hesitant. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Granny’s expression was heartwarming. “Wonderful! How about you take a week or so to settle in, then you can come start when you’re ready?”

“Well, I can start sooner. If you need the help anyway.”

“How about a few days?”

Stubborn old lady, you loved her already. “Fine, a few days,” you conceded, soughing. “Thanks again for the food, Granny. And for the job. I should probably get my stuff from my place and bring it to Gojo’s. You’ll be okay?”

“Don’t worry about me, dear,” she shooed you away with her fingers. “Go on, now. I’ll see you soon.”

The warm air raised goosebumps up your arms as it swept over you upon leaving. It smelled distinctly sweet, a natural fragrance you quickly became fond of, enjoying it wholly during your walk back home. It had been shorter this time, the transition from defined road to coarse, packed dirt closer to town than you remembered it being.

What you were not fond of was your house, however. Your spite towards those stepping stones leading to the door growing worse as you avoided tripping over them again. The stench upon opening the front door also blew you back, making your entire face scrunch up.

“Why did I do this to myself,” you grumbled as you cynically walked in. Daylight made your perception so much worse. Every flaw was practically highlighted in bright, blaring white.

You mulled over convincing Satoru to just let you live with him and forget this damn thing ever existed to begin with. 

Discovering your luggage where you left it, you cringed. It just kept getting worse. The floor was sticky everywhere. With what? Who knows. Did you want to know? Abso-fucking-lutely not. It took you less than a fraction of a second to decide to abandon your sleeping bag where it was. 

Like hell were you going to peel it off the tacky wood, let alone use it again. Not like you needed to if you had somewhere to stay anyway, right?

Since when did you become such a wastrel?

Ugh.

With a shake of your head, you rescued your suitcase and luggage bag, letting them feel the same fresh air you could. It was the little things in life that made you so grateful for this pristine oxygen. And the bigger things in life that made you extra grateful, like Gojo Satoru and his stupidly large house. 

Bless him for giving you the opportunity to sleep in an actual bed, rather than suffering in the outdoors. Him being a sneaky skunk notwithstanding.

Welp, here goes nothing. You tapped his contact, then the bubble under it. You were just going to assume he knew who was texting him.

This is the start of your conversation with ✨❤️Satoru❤️✨.

You, 16:24

Yo

Got my stuff

Alright, now you just wai–

✨❤️Satoru❤️✨, 16:24

(＾▽＾)

give it 10

The fuck.

Emoticon aside, the instant reply caught you off guard. Didn’t he say he had things to do? The day was just full of wonders, huh?

Ten minutes went by fast when you pulled up some random bad fanfiction to scroll through mindlessly. Your attention was drawn away from the half-written mess when a black sedan rolled up in front of your property, and you whistled low. 

Why the hell was a rich boy like Satoru living in the sticks and not in some penthouse in the middle of Tokyo?

A spindly figure climbed out and bowed at you politely, hands clasped together in front of him. His voice was wispy, light and reserved. “Pleasure to meet you, miss. My name is Ijichi Kiyotaka, Gojo-san requested I bring you to his residence.”

Ah, he seemed so nervous. Poor guy.

You nodded, choosing not to comment on it. You were intimate with the feeling and didn’t like others pointing it out, you figured he wouldn’t, either. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

He shook his head as he popped the trunk and helped you tuck away your luggage. “It’s no trouble at all. Though, admittedly, it is nice to not have to drive far out this time.”

“Oh?” You questioned as he opened the back door for you and oh, my, were those leather seats? The car was lavish both inside and out, and probably cost more than you and your shoddy lil’ shack combined. You waited until he got into the driver’s seat, taking the extra few seconds to admire the car that you definitely should not have been in as it was clearly too high class for you, before continuing. “Do you usually have to drive to the city?”

“Yes,” Ijichi confirmed, starting up the car with a smooth purr that you barely heard. Leave it to the wealthy to find the best of the best in any category, uncaring of prices. “I’m normally just a chauffeur for the Gojo household.”

You bobbed your head in understanding, peering out of the tinted window to watch everything move by. The traditional architecture was beautiful, something you admired. It made your house stick out a bit like a sore thumb, considering the more western design; you pondered why it was built like that.

The twisting road leading up the mountainside began and ended all too soon, the whole trip lasting less than 5 minutes total, your destination completed with Ijichi parking outside of the mansion.

Ever the gentleman (though, he might have been resolute in helping you with your belongings directly due to fear of some kind of punishment looming over his head), he took your things and led you into the house. “This way, please. I’ve already set up your room for you.”

“Oh, thank you,” you murmured, taking this chance to gawk at everything more properly. Frankly, it smelled rich inside, you didn’t want to think about how expensive even just the vase on the coffee table was.

The sliding of a door signaled your journey’s end. Ijichi bowed and ushered you inside first, though you kind of wished he went in before you, because you were positively floored and most definitely seemed like an idiot with your jaw hanging open. What the fuck? Satoru said this was a spare room? You were expecting maybe, oh, I don’t know, normal guest room things?

Not the epitome of a deluxe hotel for fuck’s sake. The room was at least twice the size of the one you slept in yesterday, the bed was glamorous (queen size, too, Christ), the bedding laid so nicely that you debated sleeping on the ground a second time, just to avoid messing it up. Especially because the fluffy rug at the foot of the frame was so downy, you wanted to drown in it. 

There’s no way this was real. Someone had to have been playing a joke on you. You spun to watch Ijichi as he carefully set your suitcase and bag against the wall by the door, waiting for him to rip the proverbial, and likely not fluffy, rug from under your feet.

Instead, he bowed once more, eyes closed. “Should you need anything, you may call for me. The restroom and bathroom are on the right when you exit. Please, feel free to bathe, if you wish. Make yourself at home. Gojo-san is out right now, but will be back by evening.”

You barely stuttered out a semi-coherent thank-you as he left, sliding the door shut behind him and leaving you in this splendor.

Surely this was a joke. You dreaded the inevitable turn, expected the door to open to a cackling Gojo Satoru as he wheezed his lungs out and pulled some ‘I can’t believe you fell for it!’ bullshit.

But it didn’t happen. 

For however long you stood there, staring holes through the closed entrance, nobody came to reveal this was all an elaborate joke, with you playing the unsuspecting and dumb victim. You laggardly let out the breath you had been holding and poked around the room with cautious hope. It really was spectacular, but you truly wondered how long Gojo would let you stay here.

By the gods, you were tired of thinking, though, and a shower would be heavenly. You could worry about everything after you were scrubbed dirt-free.

…Assuming you wouldn’t get jumped in the shower instead of the bedroom.

“You’re being paranoid,” you scolded yourself under your breath as you opened your suitcase to grab a change of clothes. But, really, could anyone blame you? You were sure someone else would have felt the exact same way you did.

Unless they were a professional freeloader or something.

Your soap and tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner were so sad compared to everything else around you. You should have checked if Granny’s store had any bath products.

The bathroom was just as luxurious and fully stocked as everything else in this damn estate. Dark, rich wood encompassed the room; a sink was to your left with a sparkling mirror above it, an open shower to your right towards the back, and the chef-d’œuvre of it all: the sunken bathtub at the end. A frosted glass window was situated behind it, shades partially lowered to allow natural light in through the bottom.

Fuck, you were so out of your depth.

But were you going to deny enjoying such riches at least once in your life? Hell no.

You turned to set your stuff down on the counter space by the sink, glancing towards the row of very expensive bottles of different types of cleansers lined up against the wall, and the note in front of them. 

Grasping it, you saw it had your name on it, written by hand. You flipped it over to see the short message left behind.

These are yours, use them as you please

~Satoru ♥

Ohoho, fancy products you could only ever scowl at forlornly at the store whenever you saw them, fantasizing about using them, though ultimately being shunned by the price tag? Fuck feeling apprehensive, you were damn well going to use those and indulge in feeling and smelling like a queen.

You’d never stripped faster in your life. You barely had half a mind to fold your clothes somewhat neatly and set them on the counter, rather than scattering them all across the floor as you stumbled out of your socks and hopped to the shower on one foot. 

Even the millions of knobs and stall-less design couldn’t deter your avidity, each one subjected to random twisting until you figured it out.

As soon as the bottles were on the recessed shelf under the showerhead, you loped under the hot water and groaned, planting your forehead against the cool wall whilst it poured down your back. You practically turned into putty, all your sore and tense muscles unwinding noticeably. The shower pointed out exactly how sleeping on the floor in your own house jacked up every part of your body, because ow. 

You honestly believed you could stand there forever, reluctant to leave, but that bathtub was calling to you.

So you grabbed the body wash first and flipped it over to read the label.

Oatmeal and almonds. Mmmh sweet fuck, you could dissolve into a puddle. It smelled heavenly, and you were giddy out of your skin knowing you were about to smell like that, too. It felt so silky-smooth on your palm, the perfume automatically coating you as you rubbed it in and savored the sensation. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to go back to normal, poor-person soap without lamenting the loss of this.

You can’t miss what you don’t know, and boy were you going to miss this if you had to leave it behind. Satoru did say it was yours to use and keep, though, didn’t he? Maybe you could yoink them when your place was all fixed up and you had to leave.

Suds coated your body in a thick layer of iridescent, white bubbles, flowing down the planes and curves of your figure with the water, rinsing every bit of your body to superb asepsis. Your hair had never known such extravagance when your fingers glided right through your locks, leaving them soft and addicting to touch. You understood now how Satoru’s was that fluffy.

You wanted to touch his hair, too.

Shaking your head to shoo away any very wholesome thoughts, you squeezed the excess water from your hair and turned off the shower, shivering at the sudden chill now that the perpetually toasty mist wasn’t surrounding you anymore.

Careful to avoid slipping, you tip-toed over to the tub and knelt down beside it, reaching for the handles. Hot water burst forth from the tap, rushing to fill the basin, and you noted how deep it was, contemplating if your knees would peek out from the surface if you sat with them bent. You had to be extra vigilant to prevent falling asleep in it and drowning.

You could drown after you got to take a dip in the hot spring in the backyard. Of course, you’d prefer not having to drown at all, but if you had to choose, you’d opt for the hot spring.

Daydreams of swimming in it played behind your eyes as you sank into the tub with a delighted sigh. What tranquility, lucking out like this. You didn’t know what god to thank, if any, but you’d happily grovel on your hands and knees to show your immense gratitude. Just getting a chance to live (well, bathe) in splendor for a single day was enough to fulfill some innate, deep desire you had inside.

Now that you had a moment away from the hectic day, you let yourself recount everything that happened, and question how the hell you got here.

Not 24 hours ago, you had arrived, a poor fool that nearly kicked the bucket on your own front porch, and since then, you were sort of adopted by a grandmother that fed you instead of throwing her shoe at you, met an eccentric, wealthy man who took after a deity ripped straight from mythos, and landed yourself not only a place to stay, but a place with said deity.

“What the hell…” You mumbled to yourself as you lowered yourself until only your eyes remained above the water, blowing bubbles. 

How did you get here?

Was this some sort of punishment? Give you a taste of the blest, then wrench it away from you? Karmic cruel and unusual castigation?

You grumbled underwater and lifted your head back up to breathe. Of course, you couldn’t help being paranoid, all of this was way too good to be true. Like some sort of game show–

Oh, god–

You sat up pin-straight and covered your chest, scanning the bathroom ceiling and walls for any hidden cameras. You scoured every surface, squinting extra hard to spot potential blinking lights or unusually-reflective circles.

Nada.

You went boneless, lounging against the back of the tub as you exhaled heavily.

You had probably been in the bath too long. Your fingers were starting to get pruny, and your brain all jumbled up with anxiety and skepticism.

Sluggishly, you pulled yourself out and dried off while the tub drained, pulling on your clean clothes with a relieved hum. You couldn’t remember the last time you treated yourself like this, if ever. 

You heard someone speaking from beyond the hallway, so after dropping off your old clothes in your room, you ventured out through the living room, where you found none other than your savior, chatting away with someone on the phone. He turned to you and instantly lit up.

“Ha-hey!” Satoru grinned and waved you over after quickly ending his call, laughing through his greeting. “You got here safe?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, moving to sit beside him at the kitchen island. “Ijichi-san is good at his job.”

The towheaded boy snickered. “Good, or else I would have flicked his forehead.”

“So, you’re the reason he looks so anxious all the time,” you scolded him, then apologized. “Sorry, by the way. I didn’t mean to drag you out of your conversation.”

“Bah,” he brushed it off. “No big deal, wasn’t anything important. So, settling in okay? Seems you already got familiar with the soaps ‘n’ stuff I got you, yeah?”

You nodded eagerly, lifting your arm to sniff at your wrist. “They smell so good, where did you get them?”

He planted his chin on his palm. “Nowhere you can afford.”

Your eyes narrowed into a sharp, unamused glare. “Wow, thanks.”

His cheeks crinkled his hues, and you realized he was still wearing his shades indoors. The glare of the sun no longer turned them into mirrors, allowing you to partially see through them, but the deep ocean hue of the lenses prevented you from deciphering the exact color of his irises.

What an abnormal choice of glasses. You knew people wore circular shades – they made them for a reason – but all the people you’d seen wearing them could never pull off the style.

Satoru was different, though. They suited him flawlessly; refined and dignified, yet boyish at the same time, just like the bearer.

“Let me know when you run out,” he said. “I’ll get you more.”

You jolted in surprise. “Oh! No, no, it’s fine! I’d feel bad using them all up, I don’t want to imagine the price tag…”

He pouted at you. “Why? You saw the note I left you, didn’t you? They’re yours, I got them specifically so you could use them.”

You worried your bottom lip. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t do anything I’m not sure of.”

Well, that’s all you needed to concede. “Alright. Thank you, I like them a lot.”

His moue instantly turned into a brilliant, cheek-aching smile. “I’m glad! Had me worried I picked the wrong stuff.”

His giddiness was contagious, making you giggle. “No! Not at all, I’m just– I’ve never seen the brand before.” It being a Japanese brand notwithstanding.

“Well, duh,” he rolled his eyes as he hopped off his stool and sauntered over to the fridge. “They don’t sell this kind of stuff in normal stores.”

“Where’d you get them from, then?”

“Made Ijichi fetch ‘em.”

You sighed heavily. “Poor guy. You work him to the bone, don’t you?”

He humphed as he withdrew something from the fridge – bento boxes, you recognized. He placed one down in front of you, and took his spot at the island back. “He’s fine. Gets paid well. It’s not like I make him go to the city for every little whim I have.”

You huffed as you pulled off the lid to your box, your mouth instantly salivating at the food within. You barely had the conscious thought left to clap your hands and murmur ‘itadakimasu’, as well as mentally slap yourself when you recalled that you had forgotten to do the same with Granny. 

You were able to restrain the moan of delight this time, unlike in front of the old lady, but damn was it hard to.

“Fuck…”

Gojo cackled beside you. “It’s good, I know.”

“Who made this?” You questioned, hand covering your mouth as you chewed. Ijichi must have been a good chef, too.

The man gave you a cocky smirk. “I did.”

…Hah?

You regarded him flatly, disbelieving. “Funny.”

“I’m serious!” He glowered.  “Is it so hard to believe I can cook?”

“A little,” you confessed around a bite of sausage. “Rich boys don’t usually know how to cook.”

His gaze pierced directly through you, brooding as he stuffed his mouth. “I’m never gonna cook for you again, just for that.”

Oh, so he was gonna do that? 

Hm, might as well play along.

You set down your chopsticks and turned to face him, slapping your hands together as you lowered your head to beseech his mercy. “Please, O’ Honored One, Gojo Satoru-sama! Forgive this witch her foolish words!”

He lifted his chin, judging you through his round shades with the pretense of a king adjudicating his subject’s worth. A few seconds passed before he nodded in approval. “Better. You’re forgiven.”

“Yay,” you laughed, immediately going back to eating. “It is really good though, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he responded, virtually inhaling his serving – not that you were any better.

“Where’d you learn how to cook?”

He swallowed and paused, speaking a fraction softer. “My mom taught me.”

Maybe a touchy subject. You noted it as something to not approach, instead choosing to compliment them both. “She taught you well.”

The boxes were empty in the blink of an eye, and you were both saying ‘gochisousama’ with a satisfying puff.

He grabbed the chopsticks and both boxes, placing them in the sink and filling them with water. “So you did research Japan a bit, eh? Knowing our customs.”

“I believe it comes with the territory of learning the language, yes,” you hopped off the stool, reclining against the counter. You winced minutely when your spine popped.

“How long have you been speaking Japanese?”

“Ehh,” you tilted your hand diagonally a few times. “I learned it a while back. I was studying abroad at the time. Didn’t really know it’d come in handy now, though.”

He dried off his hands with the hand towel nearby and cocked his head to the side. “Oh? You weren’t planning to move here?”

“Not…really,” you shrugged and rubbed the back of your neck. You had to tip-toe this line of conversation carefully.

He grinned, leaning forward to meet your gaze head-on as if he had just hit some sort of jackpot. “So you are running from something after all.” Fuck. “Well? What is it? Mafia?” No. “Loan sharks?” No. “Robbed somethin’ big?” No. “Exes?”

…Sort of.

“Let’s go with exes.”

“You’re quite the mysterious woman,” he chuckled low, voice taking on an evil little rasp. “Makes me wanna open you up.”

You batted your eyes, your brain lagging as your cheeks heated up because what the fuck, real men weren’t supposed to be this hot, and you were not supposed to be this asthenic in the knees just because he had a handsome face and an absurdly attractive voice that decided to say the most deviant shit.

“And you’re a terrible, terrible man, Gojo Satoru,” you admonished to cover your nonplussed emotions. 

“Mhm, mhm,” he nodded in complete agreement. “I’m a terrible, terrible man that decided to take you in out of the goodness of my heart.”

You sighed. “You’re going to use that against me, aren’t you.”

“Absolutely, I’m never letting you live this down.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, earning yourself a smirk hidden poorly behind an offended scoff. An oddly domestic sentiment perched in your center, just beneath your breastbone. A decent meal and the slow end to an intense day had you yawning behind the back of your hand. 

He yawned after you, the action infectious, and moped like a kid that wasn’t ready to go to bed.

The emotional weight of everything was coming down on you, and you craved for nothing more than to pass the fuck out under those incredibly plush and cozy looking blankets.

“Think that’s our cue,” you grumbled and rubbed the corner of your eye with your knuckle. “Or mine, anyway. I’m ready to conk out and sleep for, like, a century.”

He chuckled lazily, the noise husky and low. It wasn’t particularly late, no, but you felt like you’d been struck with a bus filled with mental and physical tax collected over a great deal of time. He waved you off, turning to strut down the hall opposite of the one you came through, and left you with a still cheery farewell.

Finally.

You well-nigh sprinted back to your room to nab your toiletries and sped through your simple nightly routine, impatient and antsy to dive into that queen-sized mattress. It’s not that you disliked Gojo’s company, quite the opposite, actually, but you were tired.

Usually, you tried to put off sleep until your body gave out in the early hours before morning, uncaring for the dreams that inevitably spawned, no matter how little or how much sleep you got.

But now?

Those sheets were hailing you.

You couldn’t brush your teeth quick enough. Your face was practically still damp with your moisturizer as you dived under the duvet and keened. You’d never known such opulence in your life.

Your legs kicked with glee as you snuggled in, squeaking and curling on your side and clutching the fabric of the blanket tightly in your hands to ensure it went nowhere while you pranced around in dreamland. Heaven. Pure and simple. Heaven with the fragrance of new pin laundry and your body wash, that held your head on the coziest lap, that hugged your form and incontinently coaxed you under the waves of hypnotic slumbering.

Comfort surrounded you. The mattress underneath you was the ideal level of firmness, the blankets were warm without being overbearingly hot, and being in such a neat environment swiftly lulled you into a far easier and more satisfying sleep than you’ve had in a long time.

banner by cafekitsune ♥

[allieebobo]

Monsoon Games: Roadmap

I'll continue to tweak this rough roadmap according to the responses I get from the google form, but here's the plan (ideal-case) for the next 1-2 years!

If you haven't filled out the form yet, please do, as answers would be super valuable in helping me better gauge, prioritize, and budget my next steps as well as tweak the pricing for the tiers!

Phase 1: Now till end-2025

Full-time urban planner

Part-time game dev.

Likely to be mostly solo-work and choice-script based

Phase 2: Beginning 2026 till end 2026

Part/Full-time game dev

Likely to involve / bring in an artist/coder, depending on eventual decision on game format (ren'py, Godot or choicescript)

Phase 3: Beginning 2027

Launch phase 2 game

Re-evaluate what to do next, likely back to my full-time job, but to KIV this based on what happens in Phase 2

Details below the cut!

Again, if you have comments, suggestions, preferences, do leave a message or email (allieebobo@gmail.com). If you're interested to collaborate, or to find out about what games I'm thinking of, click here.

Phase 1a

Timeframe: now till end 2025

Scope: Keep rolling out choicescript updates for CT:OS and Merry Crisis. This will form the base of content for ko-fi/patreon (with subscribers continuing to get early-releases until these games are complete).

Phase 1b 

Timeframe: start sometime 2nd half of 2025, run concurrently till end 2025)

Scope: Write a choicescript 'concept demo' for 2 new games I've been haunted by over the past couple of years. (I'll release more info on this if I think they're viable). Whether or not they become more complex games, I'll at least have the choicescript demo. 

Phase 1c 

Timeframe: optional, but to start as soon as funding is obtained

Scope: Depending on interest, I want to consider doing a port to ren'py for Merry Crisis (or CT:OS, but likely MC) for a more visual-style game. This would involve either hiring a coder to help with the port, or doing it myself. More importantly, will need to commission art for this.

_____

Monthly-subscriptions for both Phase 1a and 1b would include the following tiers: 

$3/month (existing): Just to support me :) 

$6/month (existing): Early-access links to CT:OS and Merry Crisis

$9/month (new tier): Same as above + Early-content (e.g. lore, character snippets & art, non-interactive stories, dev logs) for new game(s)

$12/month (might not go for this tier, but including just as a concept): Same as above + Expanded early-content (e.g. interactive choice-script based demo access)

Phase 2a

Timeframe: Beginning 2026, probably 6-9 months or more depending on scope

Scope: With CT:OS and Merry Crisis completed, I hope to then turn my sights to converting the choicescript demo created in phase 1b into actual complete games. This could either take the form of: 

A full choicescript game

A full ren'py (visual) game

A full Godot (2D) game

About 2-3 months into Phase 2a, I will also have enough content to launch a kickstarter, which would hopefully bring new backers on board and funds to speed-up production of the game(s). For folks who prefer supporting once-off instead, they'll also come in at this stage :) 

Phase 2b: 

Timeframe: Probably 6-9 months into 2026

Scope: Once there's a playable beta version of the game, I'll then do testing with subscribers and other beta-testers, and do de-bugging.

_____

Monthly-subscriptions for both Phase 2a and 2b would include the following tiers: 

$4/month: Just to support me :) 

$8/month: Subscriber-only content for all new games in development (e.g. character snippets & art, dev logs)

$12/month: Same as above + Little interactive patches/expansion packs for CT:OS and Merry Crisis 

$16/month: Same as above + Expanded early-content for all new games (e.g. non-interactive stories, scene peaks/teasers, interactive twine or choicescript based playable content, access to beta version of the game when ready in phase 2b)

Kickstarter tiers: 

$12 once-off for a specific project (a selection of content from the pool of characer snippets & art, dev-logs that $8/month subscribers get) 

$25 once-off for a specific project (same as above + a selection of content from the pool of expanded early-content) 

$35 once-off for a specific project (same as above + special perks e.g. ability to design a character or item or request chapter) 

Phase 3

Timeframe: Start of 2027 onwards 

Scope: When at least 1 game is launched, hopefully by start of 2027, I'll re-evaluate and see what to set my sights on next! This probably also means going back to full-time urban planning :)

[codenamesazanka]

thoughts on the chapter

“these differences, both internal and external, allow us to run towards other people and search for a point of intersection” kid out of 8 chapters you spoke like 5 sentences to Shigaraki. What intersection. (I know, I know - the crying child. the only thing Deku can care about.)

Aizawa and Mic visiting Shirakumo's grave

Compress reading Spinner's book with a sad smile...

Did villains just magically stop appearing? because AFO is gone? Because everyone is a bit nicer to each other? Because the rankings got expanded and now everyone wants to get the Eiyuu title?

Shoji says "This award goes to those who rose up 8 years ago." GEE SHOJI. I WONDER WHO IT WAS THAT GOT THEM TO SHOW UP IN THE FIRST PLACE.

I know he's thinking of the heteromorphs that stopped that day. But i just. can't get over the fact that it was Spinner's call to action that inspired them first to even come out.

"peacefully resolving prejudice-based incidents in the rural areas" Peacefully telling a man to put down the rake they're about to hit a heteromorph child with.

I know the intention is de-escalation or something. And that's a good thing! Ideally I don't want the man holding the rake to be smashed into the ground. I don't want the dumbasses spray painting slurs on a wall to be punched around. But the word peaceful here feels like it implies that... it would be victim's fault if they use force to resist violent discrimination. Equal responsibility on all parties and it's up to Shoji, it depends on Shoji to resolve it nonviolently. The originator of the violence doesn't enter the equation.

idk. rubs me the wrong way.

Did Shoji resolve the heteromorph riot peacefully? Not really. He fought Spinner (ah, you might say - well, Spinner was using violence! Shoji has to react to that with punching as well! Yeah. That's what I mean.) Koda had birds shoved someone off a building. What actually stopped everything was one rioter feeling doubts. It's credited to Shoji's words, but Shoji also admits that it's good they showed up and in the chapter here, he calls it an "uprising".

And they showed up because of Spinner.

Well. Maybe Shoji turned to "peaceful resolves" afterwards.

Just to clarify so that no one misunderstands me. Peaceful resolutions are good. I'm glad that's how Shoji is stopping anti-heteromorph incidents. What I dislike is the shallow framing.

"Quirk Counseling Expansion Project" EXPANSION???

Toga became the way she was because she didn't go to Quirk Counseling enough. Needed Expansion. The counselor saying she'll make Toga "nice and normal" didn't go far enough. Needed Expansion.

Again, I get that probably reform is implied in that, or the intent is probably expanding the concept/ideas/tools/methods/scope to include better methods. But wow.

All Might + Crowd of Supporter Statues is the creepiest thing I've ever seen.

Story literally breaking the ending fourth wall to give a happy ending to Deku.

I expect the volume extras to have Shigaraki to come and decay the ending and rescue the league.

It's amazing how the answer to "can someone quirkless be a hero" is a NO. Because Deku's feeling sad and lonely being quirkless and just a teacher and saving a kid from tripping and encouraging a future student. It's not enough. It's not Heroism. So he gets a support item and gets to be a Hero again

And then Shigaraki's Star Wars ghost is just there, not tied into the theme happening on page because Deku failed to saved the fucking guy, but he remembers Shigaraki. for one panel.

Just to repeat this because it's hysterical: This ending is "Can a quirkless person be a hero (and be happy and feel worthy?)" We get a gentle bittersweet but resounding NO. Until All Might comes again to help him out with a 'gift'.

"Remember that day when I used support items to inject acid into an immortal child demon on global TV? The day that you killed a man? Well, data from that day made you this support item. Use it to be a Hero."

Also being a quirkless Hero after all depends on knowing people and having lots of money.

All Might is now about 64 years old.

Shigaraki ghost...........

Something about shigaraki in his original outfit has me all choked up.

That's the appearance he chose to present as in the vestige realm before he disappeared.

The appearance he had in that flashback of him and Spinner bonding over games.

I like how Deku looks back, sees the ghost, but then turns forward and smile. Not even a smile as he's looking at shigaraki. I know this is nitpicky. jfc tho.

"You already destroyed it"/"That depends on what you guys do from now on." I see that there's barely any credit to Shigaraki forcing this amount of change in this chapter. As far as I can see, Deku barely thinks about Shigaraki or even Tenko this chapter. Shigaraki's just a ghost hidden vaguely in all this.

"I'll never forget" lol. The ghost is just like an afterthought from the story to make sure Deku keeps his 'promise'

I don't think a single villain's name is mentioned here. Not a single League member's. Uravity's work towards quirk counseling is not publicly or explicitly credited to her experience with Toga (the vaguest of implication). We don't know Dabi's fate and Shouto is only known as "Endeavor's son" - which might be good? because it's Endeavor's who was the main perpetrator, but still. Spinner lead the uprising but Shoji doesn't mention that. Spinner wrote his book but there's no impact, except for making Compress smile sadly and that's it. Twice has been long forgotten. Deku thinks of Shigaraki's words at the beginning of the chapter, then sees his ghost at the end, but otherwise, nothing.

Truly they've been swept under the rug. A lid put over everything.

Whatever!!!! Shigaraki and the League - the absolute best part of bnha.

[zooliminology]

i know a lot of people have talked about the far planes entities, but will there ever be an explanation (or run down) encompassing all the different places of the far planes? or, because this is dedicated to zooliminology, will this only encompass the entities? i am simply intrigued by the places in which all these creatures reside, and would love to learn more

A list of all known areas at the time has been posted here before, but a post of that manner can be reapeated due to new discoveries.

Here is an updated list of all known areas:

The Far Plains The first area discovered by the Zooliminology Project, and usually the initial area you can clip into. Primarily is comprised of vast, open, green planes and rolling knolls that sometimes sport fences. The sky projects the impression of being around midday and usually have large clouds. The grass found here is not confirmed to be related to real-world poaceae. Large black monoliths known as "gateways" can be found scarcely scattered throughout the area. Home to striders, kytes and maax.

Brutalia A large, geometric area of concrete that sprouts in random directions and does not truly superficially resemble any real-world architecture. The concrete gives way to many interiors and corridors that make it easy to get lost or separated from groups. The sky seems to be in a perpetual state of sunset. The only entities recorded here are longlegs.

Winter An exterior part of the Far Plane that is characterized by a constant state of snow and darkness. This area seems to closely resemble a real-world landscape, but the pseudofloran life here does not seem to grow or decay. The sky routinely shifts between being in either sunset or sunrise to being fully night. The area is covered in a constant mist that obscures faraway landmarks. This area houses fogwalkers and light mimics.

The Rain Lot An exterior area of the Far Plane is categorized by perpetual darkness and constant rain. The area, unlike Winter or the Far Plains, is almost completely flat, leading to light flooding in many areas. Natural light sources include clusters of floodlights. The only entities recorded here are ghosts.

Gamezone A dark interior area characterized by its resemblance to soft play areas and arcades. It is filled with ball pits, tubes, slides, non-functional arcade machines and nets. Rooms in this area tend to be very large with high ceilings. Tubes and other climbable areas in soft play areas can sprawl out by a large magnitude and become difficult to traverse. Sockwyrms are native to this area.

Greenhouses A purely interior part of the Far Plane that houses an abundance of pseudoflora. This area typically has an abundance of natural light sources compared to other interior areas. The pseudoflora inside of this area can vary, along with the style and size of rooms. Entities found here are golbos, princes and queens.

Mariana A dimly lit area characterized by its resemblance to an aquarium. Mariana is perpetually in dark, blue lighting and reflective surfaces caused by large, empty tanks of pseudofluid that hold nothing but pseudoflora. These large containers of water can be open to its surroundings or along walls and thus inaccessible. This area is home to miish, night skies, and spumes.

Miscellaneous Other areas of the Far Plane exist, mostly including interiors, but have either not been explored enough to find their true scope or have not been confirmed to be their own area rather than a subarea of a larger expanse. These places are home to various other entities that have been recorded in prior photographs. Please note that these areas are categorized by researchers and are not a full list nor is it a hard-fast rule. Many areas blur into each other due to the nature of the Far Plane and categorizing areas is done for the purpose of ease of cataloging explored areas and found entities.

[mickmeasley]

Homestar Runner just released a toon to commemorate its 25th anniversary of existing as a website.

Let that sink in.

25 years.

Its especially crazy when you realize just how few websites from that era made it out of the 2000s, let alone 2010s, and how much any new website struggles to stay alive today.

As for the cartoon itself, while Homestar Runner really isn't that funny to me anymore, and this cartoon wasn't an exception, watching this gave me a very odd, eerie, hard to articulate feeling.

so let me try to articulate,

i was 13 when i first watched Homestarrunner, and by that time the site was already 16 years old, already a barely relevant, barely alive relic of a bygone era of internet culture that I wasn't even around to see. Not that it mattered to me, as an autistic teenager whos interests were already frequently and completely out of touch with what was relevant to anyone my age. i watched pretty much every toon they ever made, every last sbemail.

I even remember my doomed attempt to make my own Homestar Runner style series, with a pirated copy of flash, crude html skills, and a dream, wondering why I was the only one to pick up the slack on this utterly unique sub-medium of animation.

I'm 21 now, and Homestar Runner now doesn't even just feel old, it feels like something from an entirely different reality, as if my memories of it are totally fake and if I actually look back I'll find out that there was never such a thing as Homestar Runner.

Its probably responsible for influencing much of the shape of internet culture and indie animation, but I can only say "probably". Nothing really links back to it in any tangible sense, you can't trace a lineage of inspiration of any current webseries back to it, and a big part of that is probably due to its format. It primarily existed on its own dedicated website, instead of youtube, or newgrounds, or any pre-youtube video site like gametrailers or screwattack. and on top of that, its production value was more polished than any other flash animation or webseries of its time, and yet its scope and approach to the design of its characters and "world" was ruthlessly efficient and minimalistic.

Where a lot of indie projects aim for big concepts and big style, trying to ape TV animation/anime, Homestar Runner aimed to be very small and quick, with characters somehow less animated than the average stick figure and sharing more of its comedic/narrative DNA with the average weekly comic strip than what most indie animation was trying to be (when it wasn't doing swearing mario parodies). It was a universe barely bigger than your average Garry's Mod TTT map, only as rich and expansive as its most one-off joke. That extreme approach to being the minimum viable product with an above-average quality and consistency gave it a significant edge over most online animation of the time, allowing an (almost) weekly format for its most defining period of relevance.

And all of that is not even getting into how it made the most of being a flash web application with its interactivity. Every single menu on the site, even the plain text buttons under the main window, was a flash element. Every single page jam-packed with interactive animation with a unique skeumorphic approach to menus that puts even the most kitschy, lively DVD menu to shame, and to this day is a breath of fresh air from overly rounded-off and soullessly minimalistic web design of today. And if you clicked on the right nooks, crannies, and lines of text strong bad somehow typed out with his begloved hands, you got a pop-up easter egg or even a little extra bit of cartoon to reward you.

Somehow, none of its approaches to format, or interactivity, or web design ever caught on. It was undeniably a product of its time, of course, the idea of entirely flash websites were an extremely awkward peach-fuzz era between web 1.0 and the integration of javascript and dynamic web elements, but theres a strange, dare I say liminal charm to that. And I can't really humor the idea that its ever going to come back.

Sure, we have the rise of "Old Internet Aesthetics", with people making plain html websites with neocities to try and stroke some hauntological intrigue boner and wax wistful about the lost, wild west era of the internet buried by time, but it remains to be seen whether or not thats ever going to manage to become more than a neat little novelty art project that people eventually abandon because it's so outmoded in its ability to generate clout/dopamine by the digital megacities of Xitter and uhh.. Instagram i guess? And of course, the era of flash websites is hardly as resolute an aesthetic as the web 1.0 html site, so its been completely passed over and will likely see its day in the sun, and neither will the pioneering format of homestar runner unless the entire structure of internet culture bends over backwards.

Its the first and last of its kind, a format never tried before or since, a successful and wildly ahead-of-its-time but nonetheless shelved experiment forever gathering dust, like the laserdisc, or one of those strangely designed pre-apple cellphones, a window into what the internet was, and could have been before the iphone came along and derailed everything.

Its an eerie, abstract kind of feeling.

[izelthewashbear]

Canary's thrill, the first to kill - chapter 19 (fragment)

Penultimate chapter! More fluff this time! :3

"Will he be okay?" Tango asked. He spent the whole afternoon sitting with Jimmy, stroking his face and hands and providing him with any comfort he needed. He was aware that his friend probably didn't even know where he was, let alone that the blazeborn was with him.

"He should be... He's just exhausted" Xisuma watched them both vigilantly, resting against the wall of Tango's room. He had his arms crossed on his chest, checking something on his control panel every few moments. "His body needs to adapt to how this server is, and then he will wake up... But I don't know about the other stuff that happened to him."

Tango nodded and squished Jimmy's hand again. Most of his injuries healed as he turned into ashes back during Wild Life. Only now, his friend could finally take in the full scope of how his new rebirth changed him. The darkened, tougher skin on his hands no longer reached up to his elbows - now it faded just past his wrists, and even on his hands it was much closer to how it used to be. Similarly, the marks on his face mostly faded. His talons got smaller, some of them still marked with a Watcher's blood. He kept his increased height, his whole transformation ended up making him taller by about half a foot. However, his increased muscle mass withered by quite a substantial amount, turning him back to a more skinny figure he used to have before he accepted the lethal deal. The worst damage however was done to his wings - after his fire resistance mysteriously turned off, most of his feathers burned, leaving him with expansive burn wounds on his back. It would probably take months for his wings to go back to their original state - and even then, it wasn't clear if Jimmy would ever take off again. The blazeborn sighed and leaned a bit closer to his friend.

"How about the others...?"

"They'll be staying here, for now. Scott said he'll be staying with Pearl, and the other two... Lizzie, and BigB, right? They're gonna stay with Joel and Grian, I think..."

"Good... How about Martyn?"

"I'm waiting for a good moment to open a gate and snatch him from The Midway... We don't know what state he's in, so we can't risk waiting for him to slip by himself. Ren is getting impatient, but-" Xisuma looked at his control panel yet again. It displayed many densely-packed lines of code. Usually Tango would get excited to take a look, but this time, he was too occupied with someone else. "I think we might have an opening soon... I have to go. Let me know if he wakes up and needs anything, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah" Tango nodded right away, but didn't even turn to face Xisuma. "Thanks, X..."

[mononijikayu]

phase three ─ say so

The words, 'Suguru and I are dating,' echoed through Satoru's mind, each syllable carrying a profound weight that seemed to press down on him with increasing intensity. His best friend, who had harbored unrequited feelings since childhood — Satoru could remember their college days, how Suguru would harp about that girl who smiled at him so tenderly every day and how he loved her. The love that persisted through countless failed relationships—all because they couldn’t warm him as his childhood love did. The friend who had openly shared his pining for her, the girl he grew up with and longed to see again. The one he had always been in love with. It finally happened, and the realization hit Gojo Satoru with a force that left him grappling with the enormity of the situation.

Genre: No Curses AU, University Professors AU!

Warning/s: Fluff, Romance, Pinning, Co-Workers, One Sided Romance, Mild Angst Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Co-Workers to Lovers, They're Figuring It Out, Folks!;

note: i kept changing the title and song for this one but i think it fits. also, shoko will appear in the next chapter. she's pre-occupied enjoying peace with her girlfriend right now <3333

masterlist

logic ≠ love masterlist

HE THINKS THAT HIS HEAD HURT WHEN HE LIFTED IT. But it was not uncommon for Suguru to feel this way in the mornings, peculiarly when other historians called him up for help on their own studies. It seemed that they often sought his input on the findings they had on the scope of his work.

This happens too often, he seems to think — even when he is busy with his own research work and his teaching job, he finds himself unable to turn away anyone that needed his help. He’d lost count of all the times his friends told him to learn how to not let himself drown in his own kindness. Yet it was hard to say no, it was easy to want the need to feel needed. And just as much, Suguru couldn’t help but admit to himself that he is in fact in need of distractions.

Stretching his arms as he yawned along with the sunrise, Geto Suguru couldn't help but notice the state of disarray around him. His long sleeved work shirt was wrinkled, and his long raven hair was entrenched in a mess. He looked down at his papers scattered across the desk, the words blending together from his long rest upon them. At the very least it was all that had ended up happening. If it had been Satoru sleeping on that, there would be endless drool and ripped papers. Satoru was, after all, the worst sleeper to be around. 

With a heavy sigh, Suguru glanced out the window pane, his gaze drifting up to the sky. It had been a while since he had spoken to her, a few days to be exact. Her – the woman he now called his girlfriend, the person he was currently dating. And yet, somehow, it still didn't feel real.

The label of "girlfriend" hung in the air, a weighty reminder of the unspoken understanding that existed between them. Despite the passage of time and the shared moments they had experienced together, Suguru couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty that lingered in his heart.

He longed to bridge the gap that had formed between them, to have an open and honest conversation about the nature of their relationship. But the fear of rejection and the uncertainty of her feelings held him back, leaving him in a state of limbo as he grappled with his own emotions.

As Suguru stared out into the expanse of the sky, a heavy weight settled on his shoulders, his mind consumed by thoughts of you and the undefined nature of your relationship. When you both agreed to start dating, the conversation ended there, leaving Suguru with a lingering sense of uncertainty.

In the days that followed, life seemed to spiral into a whirlwind of busy schedules and mounting responsibilities. You became increasingly occupied with planning your work for the semester and your teaching duties, while Suguru found himself buried under a growing pile of tasks and projects. Despite their shared commitment to each other, the distance between them seemed to widen with each passing day.

Suguru couldn't help but wonder if your busy schedule was intentional, a deliberate effort to avoid confronting the complexities of your relationship. Or perhaps it was simply a coincidence, a result of the demands of your respective lives pulling you in different directions.

As he pondered these questions, Suguru felt a knot tighten in his stomach, the uncertainty gnawing at him from within. Did you long for clarity and definition, or were you content with the unspoken understanding that existed between you? Or perhaps, like him, you found it easier to avoid addressing the issue altogether, choosing instead to bury yourselves in work and responsibilities.

As Suguru stood in his kitchen, the weight of unanswered questions pressing heavily upon him, he knew that dwelling on them any longer would only lead to further frustration and confusion. With a resigned sigh, he made a conscious effort to push aside his thoughts, recognizing that overthinking the situation would only drive him to the brink of insanity.

Turning his attention to the task at hand, Suguru mechanically began preparing breakfast for himself, his movements devoid of their usual fluidity as he robotically went through the motions. His gaze fell upon the empty storage of coffee, a stark reminder of the absence of his usual morning ritual. He sighed, it seems Nanami drank the last of the coffee when he and Satoru slept over. He ought to go to the grocery later too.

He turned to the other drawer, where he kept his tea. He takes a tall glass of water and poured it into his electric kettle, absentmindedly plugging it in and pressing the button. The familiar routine had always provided him with a sense of comfort and normalcy, but now, its absence only served to highlight the emptiness that lingered in his heart.

As he mechanically went about his morning routine, Suguru couldn't shake the feeling of unrest that gnawed at him from within. The unresolved tension between him and you hung heavily in the air, casting a shadow over everything he did. Despite his best efforts to push aside his doubts and uncertainties, they continued to haunt him, a constant reminder of the fragile state of what your relationship now meant. How can he stop being overwhelmed by this? How can he get you to open your heart to him? 

With a heavy heart and a troubled mind, Geto Suguru resigned himself to the fact that some questions may never have clear answers right now. He had to be patient. He had to wait. As he always has. Patience is the virtue he was most good at. For now, all he could do was focus on the present moment and hope that, in time, clarity would come and the uncertainty that plagued their relationship would be resolved.

He heard the kettle whistle and growl.

He took his favorite mug and added the tea.

The water eased itself into the ceramic floor.

He sighed and let the tea mingle into the water.

Geto Suguru thinks about her as he waits.

SHE WAS SURE SHE LOOKED AT HER PHONE ALL DAY. Biting her lips in frustration, she couldn't help but groan as she buried her face in her hands, grappling with the overwhelming weight of her emotions. It felt utterly foolish that she hadn't been able to muster the courage to reach out to Suguru, to simply type a message or give him a call to explain her feelings and the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in her mind.

For days, she had been locked in a battle with herself, torn between the desire to connect with Suguru and the fear of what that connection might entail. The mere thought of contacting him filled her with a dizzying array of emotions, each one more tumultuous than the last. After all, he was now her boyfriend – a title that still felt foreign and surreal when associated with her longtime best friend.

The sudden shift in their relationship had caught her off guard, leaving her heart racing with uncertainty and apprehension. She had never envisioned herself in a romantic relationship with Suguru, never even dared to entertain the idea in her wildest dreams. And yet, here they were, standing at the precipice of uncharted territory, unsure of where their newfound connection would lead them.

His confession had sent her heart into a frenzy, the warmth of his words lingering in her mind long after they had been spoken. He had always been a steadfast presence in her life, a pillar of support and friendship through every twist and turn. The idea of crossing the boundary from friendship to something more left her feeling simultaneously exhilarated and terrified, unsure of how to navigate the uncharted waters of their evolving relationship.

As she grappled with her conflicting emotions, she couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for not being more proactive in addressing the situation. The longer she hesitated, the more daunting the prospect of reaching out to Suguru became, leaving her feeling trapped in a whirlwind of indecision and uncertainty.

The days had passed in a haze of internal conflict, each moment fraught with indecision as she grappled with the reality of her newfound relationship status with Suguru. Despite the warmth of his confession and the undeniable connection between them, she couldn't shake the nagging fear that reaching out to him would irrevocably change the dynamic of their friendship, casting a shadow over everything they had built together.

Frightened and overwhelmed by the weight of her emotions, she found herself unable to articulate the turmoil raging within her. The thought of confronting Suguru with her innermost thoughts and feelings filled her with a paralyzing sense of dread, leaving her trapped in a suffocating cycle of guilt and uncertainty.

She knew deep down that Suguru didn't deserve to be met with silence and avoidance. He was too kind, too compassionate, too pure of heart to deserve anything less than her honesty and transparency. Yet despite this knowledge, she found herself unable to bridge the divide between them, her words caught in the grip of her own fear and insecurity.

Guilt gnawed at her relentlessly, a constant reminder of her failure to communicate with Suguru and the toll it was taking on their relationship. Each time she saw him in the hallways or felt the urge to reach out to him, she was consumed by a sense of helplessness and frustration about all of this. Her inadequacy was horrid. She wished she could do better than this. She had just gotten Suguru back and had gotten him in a way that she didn’t even deserve and now she knew she was causing him more pain in isolation.

Sitting alone in the outer corner of the teacher's lounge during a coffee break, she felt the weight of her emotions come crashing down upon her. Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled to contain the overwhelming surge of frustration and self-doubt that threatened to engulf her.

In that moment of vulnerability, she longed for nothing more than the courage to break free from the confines of her own fears and insecurities, to open up to Suguru and lay bare the depths of her heart. But for now, all she could do was cry out in anguish, the silent sob echoing in the empty room as she grappled with all these newfound feelings—ones that she never thought she would ever face before.

Amidst her turmoil, the sight of Gojo Satoru's concerned gaze as her tears fell silently caught her off guard. His white lashes blinked tenderly as his eyes settled on her, and without hesitation, he swiftly took a seat beside her. With genuine concern etched on his face, he bombarded her with questions, each one probing deeper into the source of her distress.

Satoru's genuine concern persisted, evident in the furrow of his brows and the earnestness in his gaze. Despite her attempts to brush off his inquiries, he refused to relent, leaning in closer as he sought to uncover the truth behind her tears.

"It's nothing," she insisted, her voice trembling slightly as she wiped away her tears in a feeble attempt to mask her distress. But Satoru's penetrating gaze left her feeling exposed, his unwavering scrutiny betraying his disbelief in her words.

"I-I'm being serious, I'm not lying," she stammered, her voice faltering as she struggled to maintain her composure under Satoru's intense scrutiny.

Satoru's lips quivered in a mischievous grin as he observed her carefully. "Uhuh, and when I look at your nose, it wrinkles so much, you can tell that they're hiding lies."

Her cheeks flushed with warmth as his playful observation sank in, a blend of embarrassment and indignation bubbling within her. The rosy hue that spread across her cheeks betrayed the flurry of emotions swirling inside her, a delicate dance between feeling self-conscious and mildly irritated by his teasing remark. Despite her attempts to maintain composure, the subtle heat radiating from her skin betrayed the effect of his words, leaving her caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

"S-shut up! That's so rude!" she protested, swatting playfully at Satoru as she attempted to deflect his teasing remarks. 

Despite her efforts to maintain a facade of nonchalance, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that Satoru saw right through her defenses, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable in his presence. Suguru did tell her that he was good at that, his best friend. She sighed, lowering her head and looking at Satoru, who leaned back into the chair.

“I don’t know what happened, but well, I hope you know it’s not a bad thing to tell people why you’re upset.” Satoru exclaimed in reply, his arms crossed in front of him. “But you don’t have to feel pressured to tell me anything right now. Just know that I’m your friend, and you can trust me, hm? I, the great Gojo Satoru, will be your friend and shoulder too! So chin up, girl. Don’t cry!”

She didn’t know what happened.

Perhaps she was overwhelmed.

Or she just didn’t know what to do.

But she started shaking her head.

She lifts her head and looks at him.

“Suguru and I are dating!” She cried, almost as though relieved that she doesn’t have to carry it alone. 

In the aftermath of her revelation, the atmosphere hung heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. Satoru's reaction was immediate and palpable; his eyes widened, jaw slackened, and the disbelief etched across his features was unmistakable. It was as if time itself had halted, freezing the moment into a suspended reality where the unexpected revelation reverberated in the air.

The words, 'Suguru and I are dating,' echoed through Satoru's mind, each syllable carrying a profound weight that seemed to press down on him with increasing intensity. His best friend, who had harbored unrequited feelings since childhood — Satoru could remember their college days, how Suguru would harp about that girl who smiled at him so tenderly every day and how he loved her.

The love that persisted through countless failed relationships—all because they couldn’t warm him as his childhood love did. The friend who had openly shared his pining for her, the girl he grew up with and longed to see again. The one he had always been in love with. It finally happened, and the realization hit Gojo Satoru with a force that left him grappling with the enormity of the situation.

For a moment, Gojo Satoru found himself suspended in a state of disbelief, unable to comprehend the magnitude of what she had just disclosed.Suguru finally achieved his dream. He got the girl. He finally did it. Satoru’s thoughts churned in a whirlwind of confusion and uncertainty, and excitement. As reality seeped back in, Satoru stood there, at a loss for words. His mouth moved soundlessly, attempting to convey the myriad of emotions swirling within him. 

Satoru's exclamation reverberated through the room, his voice cracking with a mixture of astonishment and disbelief. The overwhelming flood of emotions threatened to consume him, leaving him teetering on the edge of a reality he had never anticipated. He could feel happiness flood him. His friend finally got the girl!

"YOU’RE DATING SUGURU?" he blurted out, unable to contain his shock.

“SHHHHH NOT SO LOUD!” she hissed in response, her cheeks flushing crimson with embarrassment. The intensity of Satoru's reaction took her by surprise, and she hastily gestured for him to lower his voice.

“HOW LONG?” Satoru pressed on, his curiosity getting the better of him as he leaned in closer, eager for answers.

As she snapped at him, her voice tinged with frustration and flustered embarrassment, she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, the telltale sign of her own embarrassment. 

"SHUT UP!" she exclaimed, her words sharper than intended as she shot him a pleading look, hoping to convey the urgency of her request. Her hand covered his mouth again. The scarlet hue of her cheeks betrayed her discomfort as she struggled to gather her thoughts amidst the chaos of emotions swirling within her. “Just, calm down first!”

As their voices rose in a heated exchange, the tension between them reached a boiling point. She was worried someone might have heard them, that someone might have ended up coming in. Gojo Satoru was too loud for his own good. She felt a surge of frustration bubbling within her, her hands gesturing emphatically in an attempt to convey the urgency of her request. Yet, despite her efforts, the atmosphere remained charged with an undercurrent of unease.

“The hand has got to go, you can’t keep—” Satoru's voice carried a note of exasperation as he gestured towards her, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“Just calm down first and I’ll tell you!” She interjected, her tone tinged with urgency as she attempted to quell the rising tension.

“I am calm!” Satoru retorted, his voice tinged with frustration.

“Be calmer!” She shot back, her own agitation bubbling to the surface as she struggled to maintain her composure.

The air crackled with tension as they exchanged heated words, each struggling to maintain their composure amidst the escalating argument.

“Fine!” Satoru mumbled against her palm, his glare piercing as he met her defiant gaze. She returned the glare, her expression equally resolute as she held her ground.

"God, your hands are so sweaty," Satoru remarked, a hint of annoyance seeping into his tone as he pulled away from her touch.

"This is not the time!" she snapped, her frustration evident in the sharpness of her voice. Despite their efforts to diffuse the tension, the underlying strain between them lingered, casting a shadow over their interaction.

Satoru let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his disheveled hair as he tried to reign in his frustration. "I know, I know," he muttered, his tone softer now, tinged with a hint of remorse. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scream like that. It’s just….”

‘Suguru loved you for a long time.’ He thinks but he doesn’t want to say it. Only Suguru can say that. 

Her shoulders relaxed slightly at his apology, the tension in the air easing just a fraction as she took a deep breath to steady herself. "It's okay," she replied, her voice softer now, her anger dissipating as she met his gaze with a hint of understanding.

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their unspoken words hanging heavy in the air between them. Then sat down after a while, tension already gone. He sighed, looking at her. She must have been concerned about the relationship then, if she was crying. He thinks about what Suguru must have done to find his childhood love cry like this.

“You’re crying about Suguru, huh?”

“T-that’s….” She looked at him, the glint of guilt in her eyes. “I just….it’s been awkward, trying to adjust to all this. And I just, he’s my best friend. I don’t know how to…”

“Navigate it all?” He supplies, with a grin on his face. She looks at him, embarrassed. She still nods. “But isn’t that normal in relationships? Figuring it all out.”

“I know that.” She replies back to him, looking down on the floor. “But I just….this is all new and different. I think I made him sad already by not replying to him or reaching out to him.”

“Oh, definitely. He may even think you hate him.” He nods at her words, making her look at him in a snap. “But well, that only gets cleared up if you talk to him right. Your relationship isn’t just you. It’s both of you. So, go on. Talk to him. Just say so.”

She lets out a small nod. “Thank you, Satoru. I just….I needed that.”

“No problem!” He grins at her, leaning forward with a thumbs up. “Just make sure I get something to enjoy in your latest volume. I don’t think I can handle more of the tragic angst.”

“I don’t think I can promise anything, but I’ll try!” She smiles at him and gets up from her seat, before he could reply. 

She ran out before any other words could be exchanged. Gojo Satoru leaned back against his seat,  letting out a deep satisfied sigh, the weight of the recent events settling heavily on his shoulders. Playing Cupid is a hard task, he thinks. The science to a happy life is after all, being able to produce chemicals to happiness. 

“What did you do now?” A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts, and Satoru couldn't help but smile as he turned to see Nanami Kento standing before him, hands tucked neatly into his suit pockets.

“What didn’t I do?” Satoru replied with a playful grin, his tone laced with mischief.

Kento sighed wearily, taking a seat beside him. “You should have let them figure it out.”

“Oh, so now you reveal you heard everything,” Satoru quipped, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

“You scream too loudly,” Kento retorted, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

Satoru grinned mischievously, leaning closer to Kento's side. “How hard do you want me to scream?”

“Not here, you idiot!” Kento's cheeks flushed scarlet, embarrassment evident in his tone as he scolded his friend. Satoru couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's reaction.

“You’re too easy to tease,” Satoru teased, resting his head on Kento’s arm and snuggling against it. He glanced up at Kento with a playful twinkle in his eyes. “I thought you said not here.”

Kento averted his gaze, his reddened ears betraying his embarrassment. “...You haven’t slept much because of your work, right?” he asked softly, concern now lacing his words. “Just take a nap before your next class. It’s still two hours from now.”

Satoru felt his cheeks flush at Kento's caring gesture, his smile widening at the unexpected tenderness. Closing his eyes, he leaned into Kento's comforting presence.

“You're too cute,” he murmured softly.

Nanami Kento hesitated for a moment before replying, his voice equally soft. His cheeks flushed in scarlet.

“.........Yeah, yeah."

“You’re always so loving to me, Kento~”

“Just get some sleep before I get up and leave you.”

"Alright, alright~"

HE THINKS HE’S ABOUT TO HAVE A HEADACHE OF READING THROUGH PAPER AFTER PAPER. In the dimly lit cubicle office, Geto Suguru sat surrounded by a mountain of papers, each one representing a student's attempt at deciphering historical events. His brow furrowed in concentration as he meticulously graded each test paper, his pen moving in a steady rhythm across the pages. The scratching sound echoed through the quiet room, a stark contrast to the occasional sigh of frustration that escaped his lips.

It started out well, with Fushiguro Megumi's paper showing promise with its depth and insight. However, as Suguru worked his way through the stack, the quality of the submissions seemed to deteriorate. He couldn't help but shake his head at the chaotic mess that some of his students had produced.

Among the sea of mediocrity, one paper stood out to him—the six pages of storytelling by Itadori Yuji. While not entirely historically accurate, Suguru couldn't deny the creativity and entertainment value of Itadori's work. It was a refreshing change from the dry and uninspired essays he had been grading all day.

As he continued to work, Suguru found himself sinking deeper into the task at hand. The quiet solitude of the office provided him with a sense of focus and determination, allowing him to plow through the remaining papers with efficiency.

Despite the monotony of the task, Suguru found solace in the routine of grading papers. It was a familiar ritual that helped him clear his mind and focus on the task at hand. And as he neared the end of the stack, he couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment wash over him.

With the last paper graded, Suguru leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh of relief. The room was silent now, save for the sound of his own breathing. He glanced at the clock and realized that he had been working for hours.

But even as fatigue threatened to overwhelm him, Suguru couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that he would soon have completed his remaining task for today. He can have a good end with some gyoza and a beer. With a tired smile, he gathered up the papers and prepared to leave the office, eager to finally rest and recharge before the next day's challenges.

The sudden sound of the door swinging open broke the silence of the dimly lit office, causing Suguru to look up from his papers with a start. His eyes widened in surprise as she stumbled into the room, her breaths labored and her movements unsteady. Her disheveled appearance and heavy footsteps against the tiled floor immediately caught his attention, prompting him to rise from his chair in concern.

Without uttering a single word, she marched up to Suguru's desk with determination etched on her face. With a swift motion, she reached out and spun his office chair around to face her, the movement abrupt and unexpected. Suguru found himself facing her, his expression a mix of confusion and curiosity as he studied her tired eyes and tense posture.

The room fell silent as they stood facing each other, the weight of her unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. Suguru waited patiently, sensing that something was amiss and allowing her the space to speak her mind. He watched intently as she took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with each labored exhale, before finally finding the strength to voice her thoughts.

With a voice trembling with emotion, she began, "Hey," meeting his gaze with a mixture of apprehension and vulnerability.

“Hey,” Suguru replied softly, his expression reflecting his concern as he watched her closely.

“I have so,” she paused, taking a moment to catch her breath and straighten her posture. “Oh my god, I need to exercise more,” she added with a self-deprecating laugh, attempting to lighten the mood despite the weight of the conversation.

Suguru's eyes softened with concern as he observed her, his worry evident in his gaze. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

She waved him off dismissively, forcing a small smile. “Yeah, yeah. I am…..don’t worry. Just need to catch my breath,” she assured him, attempting to reassure him despite the turmoil she was feeling inside.

Suguru nodded understandingly, giving her a moment to compose herself as she caught her breath. As she took a moment to collect her thoughts, he listened attentively, waiting for her to continue.

"I'm sorry... I haven't contacted you," she finally admitted, her voice tinged with regret as she voiced the apology that had been weighing heavily on her mind.

“I–”

Her determination shone through as she shook her head at him, her gaze unwavering and resolute. "No, I need to….I need to make this right," she insisted, her voice tinged with urgency. "I've caused you a lot of pain, and it's not fair to you. I wasn't being fair to you. But I want to. You poured your heart out to me, and I just….I didn’t make good on you. I was so confused about what this would mean. But I should have told you. And since we’re together, we can work it out, right?”

Suguru's heart ached at the sight of her distress, his eyes softening with compassion as he listened to her words. Gently, he reached out and took her hand in his, drawing her closer to him in a comforting embrace.

"It's okay," he murmured, his voice filled with warmth and understanding. "I should be the one apologizing. I should have made it easier on you, too. Everything happened so suddenly, and I should have known it would have overwhelmed you too. I should have asked you and conversed more with you about this. To be fair to you too.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she shook her head, her grip on his hand tightening. "No, Suguru, you don't deserve this. And... and I don't deserve you."

His heart skipped a beat at her words, and he felt a surge of emotion welling up within him. Though he struggled to find the right words, the depth of his feelings for her was unmistakable in his gaze as he looked into her eyes, his heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

"I... I'm sorry," Suguru stammered, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I shouldn't have... I mean, I haven't even told you how I love you."

In the quiet aftermath of their tender exchange, as they stood enveloped in the soft ambiance of the office lights, a flicker of uncertainty danced across her features. Her brow furrowed in a subtle expression of puzzlement, her eyes searching for him with a hint of apprehension.

‘Wait, he’s never said he loved me, right?’

As Suguru met her gaze, a sudden realization dawned upon him like a bolt of lightning. 

‘Wait,' he thought, his mind racing to catch up with the tumultuous whirlwind of emotions swirling within him. 'I never told her I loved her.'

The weight of his unspoken confession hung heavy in the air, a poignant reminder of the words left unsaid between them. In the stillness of the moment, Suguru felt a surge of panic rise within him, his chest constricting with the weight of his own reticence.

'I never told her I loved her,' he repeated to himself, the words catching in his throat like a bitter pill. The truth of his feelings loomed large in his mind, a daunting revelation that left him grappling with a profound sense of regret.

The weight of his words hung in the air, a heavy silence enveloping them as they both grappled with the implications of his confession. Their eyes met in a moment of shared vulnerability, each trying to decipher the emotions reflected in the other's gaze.

Finally, she squeezed his hand gently, batting at him a shy smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I-It's okay," she whispered. "I'm happy….happy that you could tell me your feelings. To….to hear that you love me."

Relief surged through Suguru like a tidal wave, washing away the remnants of doubt and uncertainty that had clouded his mind. In that fleeting moment, as he absorbed her heartfelt words, a profound sense of gratitude enveloped him like a warm embrace.

With a gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips, Suguru met her gaze, his eyes alight with a spark of newfound hope. In the depths of his soul, unspoken promises danced like flickering flames, casting a radiant glow upon their shared moment of connection.

"I'll try my best to make it up to you, to reciprocate your warmth too," she continued, her voice filled with determination. "I'll do everything I can to make you happy too, Sugu."

Suguru's heart swelled with emotion at her earnest pledge. He reached out, gently cupping her cheek in his hand as he searched her eyes with tender affection.

 "Thank you," he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with sincerity. "Knowing that you're willing to make this work means everything to me."

“Me too.” She smiles back at him, squeezing his hand. “Thank you for being willing to make this work too.”

For a moment, he felt like he could breathe again.

The touch of her hand on his own made him warm.

Now, he thinks that everything is right with the world.

Because he thinks that he can work with this now.

He can work with love being his only logic with her.

She just has to smile at him warmly and say so.

extra; going home together

As Geto Suguru and she exited the office together, they held hands as they walked off the past towards the future. All the tension from their earlier conversation began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of ease as they fell into a comfortable rhythm of a warm, tender conversation.

"So, what are you in the mood for dinner?" Suguru inquired, a gentle smile curving his lips as they walked side by side.

"Hmm, maybe some sushi?" she mused, her mind wandering to thoughts of their upcoming meal. The idea of enjoying fresh sushi sounded appealing after a long day of work, and she could almost taste the delicate flavors as she spoke. “Oh, oh! How about going to that okonomiyaki restaurant that you talked about?”

As they rounded the corner, Suguru and she stumbled upon an unexpected sight: Nanami Kento walking away from Gojo Satoru, who had a mischievous grin plastered on his face as he teased Nanami–san about something. The pair didn't seem to notice Suguru and her, engrossed in their own exchange, but she couldn't help but watch them for a moment.

Satoru's laughter rang out, echoing against the backdrop of the bustling Tokyo street. Despite the busy surroundings, there was an undeniable closeness between the two men, evident in the way they interacted with each other. She noticed how Nanami–san moved to the corner of the sidewalk, Satoru staying close beside him as they navigated the crowded street.

There was a sense of harmony in their movements, a silent understanding that spoke volumes about their relationship. She couldn't help but feel a pang of envy as she watched them, admiring the ease with which they seemed to complement each other.

"They seem very happy together," she murmured, tearing her gaze away from the pair to glance at Suguru beside her. 

He nodded. “Nanami most of all, look. He’s not stiff today. No one probably pissed him off.”

The curiosity bubbling inside her.

Curiosity is too strong to just ignore.

Turning to him, she voiced her thoughts.

"How close are they?" she whispered, her voice tinged with awe and admiration. “They seem so opposite of each other, so I thought they were not as close.”

“Huh?” Suguru looks at her as though she had grown a head on her side. “Are you serious?”

“What do you mean?”

Suguru glanced at her, and then snickers. Suddenly, there’s a playful twinkle in his eyes.  "Didn't you know? They're lovers."

She stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening in disbelief.

 "WHAT?" she exclaimed, her voice echoing through the corridor.

Suguru continued to walk off, laughing at the depths of his lungs.

The revelation caught her completely off guard, leaving her stunned and speechless.

“Hurry up and stop being frozen, I’m hungry!”

facts about the characters thus far:

satoru, suguru, shoko and nanami all met in high school. only suguru and satoru ended up going to the same university. nanami went to another nearby university and shoko went to study in a nearby medical university.

you've been a BL mangaka since senior year of high school. it started with slice of life stories, which you sold at conventions in freelance. you ended up becoming a pro after a few years after you gave up on finding a job in the mainstream writing industry. you still decided to get a teaching job because you don't know how long the pro-mangaka work will last for you.

you and suguru met at five years old in the playground, where your moms became good friends. he saw you struggling with the swing and helped you on it. you declared him your best friend that day. suguru really likes to think about this memory a lot.

satoru is a big fan of BL and it started because his ex from high school was a fan and really had good reads. he starts going to conventions and personally buying them. he doesn't mind that people stare at him when he buys their books. as he stated, he has bought your books in person too, before you were even a pro-mangaka.

suguru isn't a fan of BL but he likes getting into them when the stories are really really good. satoru has recommended stuff to him before and he's read them. he personally also buys them in print, which is his personal preference. his current favorite is currently 'doukyusei'.

satoru often causes a lot of commotion in the school because of his antics. a lot of people have expressed their annoyance, but over the years, he has become too important to fire. so people just got used to all of his antics and even started joining him.

nanami and satoru got together during satoru's high school graduation. nanami hated gojo in high school because his basketball club hogged the training grounds, where nanami's track club also needed to use. they ended up bonding because of their shared passion for pastries.

[pacificrimthemovie]

Pacific Rim Is Stomping Onto TV With New Prequel Series

An 'origin story' series for Legendary's giant mecha franchise is part of a new TV deal between the studio and Eric Heisserer.

By James Whitbrook [gizmodo.com]

The world of Pacific Rim is making a giant-robot-legged leap to the small screen. Variety reports that Legendary Entertainment and Shadow and Bone‘s Eric Heisserer are teaming up on a new TV series set in the world of the kaiju-vs-mecha franchise.

“We are thrilled to launch our partnership with Eric, Chronology, and Carmen [Lewis, co-founder of production company Chronology], with a new entry in the epic, globally popular Pacific Rim universe,” Jason Clodfelter, president of Legendary Television, said in a statement provided to Variety. “We are certain their vision will make for an enthralling expansion to Legendary’s beloved franchise.”

The Pacific Rim series will be the first in Chronology’s first-look TV deal with Legendary, designed to “develop and shepherd IP-driven and related projects” for the studio, according to Variety.

Little was revealed about the series, other than that it will act as an “origin story” for the franchise. Set in a near future where much of the world has been devastated by the emergence of giant monsters called Kaiju—flooding into the world via an interdimensional rift discovered in the Pacific Ocean—Pacific Rim follows the establishment of the “Jaeger Program,” an international military force that develops giant robots operated by multiple pilots with their minds synced together. The first Pacific Rim movie launched in 2013, and was followed by a maligned sequel, Uprising, in 2018, but the franchise has flourished beyond the box office since, with the Netflix anime Pacific Rim: The Black and several comic series.

Whether or not the series will cover the early days of Kaiju-kind’s appearance on earth, or the development of the Jaegers and their initial battles against the monsters, remains to be seen. But if Monarch: Legacy of Monsters proved you could do the kind of scale and scope of Legendary’s other big monster series, Godzilla, on a streaming series budget, then maybe there’s hope for a lot of fun monster and robot action here, too.

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 22: Back Home

Warning: Mention of miscarriage. Some chapters have sex.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

A couple of weeks after your journey from San Diego, you found yourself engrossed in work late one evening in your office. The sound of a knock at the door interrupted your focus. Lifting your eyes, you saw Chuck standing there, holding a small tray filled with snacks.

"Come in," you invited, taking a moment to organize the papers strewn across your desk.

Chuck entered, placing the tray on your desk. "Figured you might need a little something to munch on," he offered, a considerate gesture that brought a moment of warmth to the late hours.

You couldn't help but smile at the thoughtfulness. "Thanks, Chuck. That's really kind of you," you expressed, genuinely touched by the gesture. The sight of the snacks—a mix of fruit, nuts, and some chocolate—was a welcome sight, considering you hadn't realized how much time had passed or how hungry you actually were until now.

Chuck observed the situation, remarking on your evident busyness. "It looks like this new grant project is keeping you quite occupied," he noted, acknowledging the lengthy days you've been putting in.

You responded with a confirming sound, the weight of the work ahead clear in your tone. "This is just the start. I've been going through resumes to find some assistance for the upcoming winter and summer," you explained, signaling the expansive scope of your project and the need for additional hands to manage the workload.

As a yawn escaped you, you promptly covered your mouth with your hand.

Chuck issued a gentle warning, "Well, don't push yourself too hard. I understand with the Lieutenant away, you might dive into work to keep him off your mind, but it's not the best for your health," he pointed out, concern evident in his voice. "And you've seemed pretty worn out lately."

You dismissed the concern with a nonchalant shrug. "Nah, I'm fine. Just still getting my bearings after all those time zone changes a few weeks back," you claimed, attributing your fatigue to the adjustment period rather than the workload or emotional stress.

"Have you heard from the Lieutenant?" he inquired, observing as you picked up a grape from the plate and popped it into your mouth.

After a moment spent chewing and then swallowing, you answered, "No," your tone casual yet hinting at a deeper resignation. "But that's nothing new." You continued eating off of the plate.

Chuck's observation came unexpectedly, drawing a parallel from his experiences, albeit in a different context. "Doc, I'm no rocket scientist, but I've been around horses enough to see when something's up. Are you sure you're not pregnant?" he asked, noting your sudden appetite as you continued to eat grapes.

You stopped mid-motion, a grape poised between your fingers, as his words prompted a rush of thoughts. The realization dawned on you; you and Jake had been cautious only that one time.

The room suddenly felt too small, your mind racing as you tried to piece together the timeline, the possibility that Chuck's offhand comment might hold more truth than jest.

Chuck, realizing the gravity of what he'd suggested, immediately softened his approach. "Hey, I didn't mean to jump to conclusions or anything. It's just, you've been looking a bit off color lately, and now the sudden hunger," he explained, his voice tinged with concern rather than suspicion.

You set the grape back down, suddenly not so hungry. "I... hadn't really considered it," you admitted, the possibility now taking root in your mind. "But now that you mention it, there have been a few signs that I just attributed to stress and being busy." As you glanced down at the grape held delicately between your fingers, a stark realization hit you. You despised grapes. The fact that you were not just tolerating but seemingly enjoying them now added an unexpected layer of complexity to Chuck's question. This sudden shift in your dietary preferences, coupled with the recent context you were forced to consider, made the scenario all the more perplexing and worthy of deep thought. "I'll make a doctor's appointment tomorrow." You looked at Chuck and nodded. "Good night."

A few days after your conversation with Chuck, you found yourself in a different kind of waiting—sitting in a doctor's office, draped in a gown that felt less like clothing and more like a symbol of vulnerability. The anticipation was palpable, the room filled with a silence that seemed to echo your racing thoughts.

The door finally opened, breaking the cycle of your anxious musings. A middle-aged woman stepped in, her curly dark hair framing her face and glasses perched on her nose, exuding an air of professional calmness. "Dr. Seresin, how are you today?" she greeted, her voice carrying a blend of warmth and formality, the sort that healthcare professionals master over years of practice. Her presence, while reassuring, also marked the moment of truth you had been both dreading and anticipating.

"Dr. Katz," you acknowledged her, trying to muster a semblance of calm. "I guess I'm doing okay."

Dr. Katz took a seat, her gaze meeting yours squarely, a gesture that seemed to brace both of you for the forthcoming revelation. "Well, we might as well just get right to it. You're pregnant."

The moment the words left her lips, it felt as though the room's atmosphere shifted dramatically. It was as if all the air had been vacuumed out, leaving behind a charged silence that enveloped you. The reality of her statement hung heavy, a profound turning point that was both intimidating and real.

Dr. Katz, observant and empathetic, noticed the change in your demeanor. Her voice softened as she addressed the situation, "I take it this wasn't planned?"

Releasing a deep breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding, you managed to find your voice. "Not really, but..." Your words trailed off, a mix of emotions swirling within you—surprise, apprehension, perhaps a hint of something else. In that moment, with the reality of your situation settling in, you stood at the threshold of an unexpected journey, pondering the myriad ways it could unfold.

Dr. Katz's gaze briefly settled on the wedding ring adorning your finger, a symbol of commitment that prompted her next question. "I didn't know you were married? Does your husband not know yet?"

Meeting her gaze, you clarified, "I've been married for four years. My husband is currently deployed. Due to a past circumstance, we recently rekindled our relationship."

Dr. Katz turned her attention back to the computer, typing away for a moment before stopping, a note of concern in her expression as she addressed a sensitive topic. "Ah. Being kicked in the stomach and losing the baby." Her gaze shifted back to you, searching, as she asked, "How do you feel about this?"

There was a brief pause as you collected your thoughts, the weight of the question pressing down. "Honestly, nervous," you admitted, your voice carrying the mixed emotions of fear, uncertainty, and perhaps a glimmer of hope or resilience. It was a moment of vulnerability, acknowledging the complexity of your feelings in the face of such unexpected and challenging news. he room seemed to hold its breath as you shared a piece of your past, a shadow that lingered over your present. "After it happened, my husband didn't really talk to me for four years," you revealed, the pain and isolation of that time evident in your voice. Meeting Dr. Katz's eyes, you expressed a fear deeply rooted in your experience. "I don't want that again."

Dr. Katz, sensing the depth of your concerns and the weight of your past experiences, offered a supportive suggestion. "There's a psychologist I can connect you with..."

But you quickly dismissed the idea, a reflexive wave of your hand punctuating your decision. "No. No psychologist. I can deal with this." Your voice carried a mixture of determination and perhaps a hint of apprehension.

Dr. Katz exhaled deeply. "Alright, I'll provide you with that information, just in case you have a change of heart. But do start taking a quality prenatal vitamin. I'll see you in a month's time, purely as a precaution because of the last time. It's not that I'm expecting complications, but I'd rather be safe and ensure everything is on track."

"Okay," you nodded in agreement.

"You're going to be just fine, Y/N," reassured the doctor before exiting the room.

You released a breath you hadn't noticed you'd been holding in.

Entering the kitchen late, you carried a small bag, its contents consisting of prenatal vitamins.

Chuck glanced up. "Everything alright, Doc?"

Setting the bag on the counter, you extracted the vitamins. "You were correct. I'm pregnant."

A smile brightened Chuck's face. "Doc, that's wonderful news! But, why do I sense you're not thrilled?"

"I am happy," you admitted. "It's just the thought of Jake's reaction that's weighing on me."

Chuck nodded, understanding the complexity of the situation. "I think the Lieutenant will be thrilled about it."

"I hope so, but it's my line of work that makes him anxious. Particularly after the last incident." Drawing in a deep breath, you contemplated your next steps. "I need to see about getting an assistant or an intern. It's time to have a discussion with work."

As if on cue, your phone began to ring, and Jake's name flashed on the screen. "Speaking of Jake," you remarked, pressing the answer button for a face call. "Hey babe!"

Chuck discreetly exited the kitchen, giving you space to talk to Jake.

Jake's voice came through, vibrant and warm. "Hey, darlin'!"

God, how you missed the sound of his voice. Heck, you missed everything about him.

He noticed your weariness. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. It's just been a long day. I literally just got home."

"Well, then I called at the right time. How are things?"

"Things are going well. I've been swamped, between the job and managing the grant, it's been non-stop."

"Darlin', make sure you're not overdoing it," he cautioned gently.

A smile found its way to your lips. "I won't, Jake. Don't worry about me."

His gaze carried a tinge of concern. "You sure you're alright?"

With a reassuring smile, you responded, "I'm fine, Jake, really. Like I mentioned, today was just one of those long days."

Seeing his expression ease brought you a bit of relief. "You'd tell me if something was up, wouldn't you?"

"Without a doubt." You took a brief pause before shifting the focus. "How about you? How have you been?"

"Doing well. There's been a lot of training going on."

"That sounds positive, doesn't it?"

His smile returned, warmer this time. "Always is." His gaze met yours, carrying a mix of longing and affection. "I miss you, Y/N."

The feeling resonated deeply within you. "I miss you too, Jake. Any idea when you'll be back?"

He hesitated, the uncertainty evident. "Not at this time."

You nodded. "Is there anything you need? I took care of your apartment, so you're good on that."

His voice carried a hint of regret. "Nah, I'm alright, but I really need to catch some sleep. Sorry for not calling sooner. This was the first chance I got."

Your words were soft but firm, "Jake, it's part of the job. I get it. Go catch some sleep. I'm heading to bed soon myself."

"That sounds like a plan. I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too, Jake."

After ending the call, Chuck re-entered the room.

"You didn't tell him, did you?"

Shaking your head, you responded, "No. He's got enough on his plate without adding to his worries. He needs to stay focused on his work." You met Chuck's gaze with determination. "And there's no arguing with that."

Chuck gave a nonchalant shrug, conceding to your point. "Whatever you say, Doc. You call the shots." Moving towards the stove, he changed the subject. "Got an appetite?"

"Starving!" you exclaimed, grateful for the distraction.

Chuck then busied himself with preparing a plate for you, signaling the end of the conversation and a shift to more comforting, domestic matters.

Tags: @buckysteveloki-me @bellyliveslife @tgmreader @callsign-barbell @86laura11 @dizzybee03 @kmc1989 @guacam011y @nerdgirljen @hookslove1592 @dempy @djs8891