#and barely spoken in

[deadboyswalking]

no hold on i can't be normal about this

Zoro trusts Sanji so much. He trusted Sanji to take care of half of the crew when they were separated, and he trusted Sanji to be waiting for him when the crew reunited. They were only separated for 11 days, and yet when Zoro gets to Zou, Sanji is all he can talk about.

And then Sanji is gone. He's gone, and he left to get married, and he broke the trust that Zoro had in him to be the crew's other protector, and Zoro loves him so much and missed him so much, and Zoro doesn't know if he'll ever see him again.

[bonecarversbestie]

"The gardening gloves were a bad gift. They prove Lucien doesn't actually know Elain" ?????

This completely misses the point of the gloves as a gift. When Lucien asks Feyre about Elain she tells him

"Elain would put on a hat AND GLOVES and kneel in the dirt, weeding"

So not only are the gloves proof that Lucien absorbs and remembers every scrap of information about Elain. He also decided, with the first gift he ever got her, to send the message that she does not have to leave everything she loves behind in the human world. And that her safety and happiness are important to him.

At the very LEAST it says "I know you like gardening. here are some tools for your hobby" like how could that be bad??

[strawberry-smog]

A small thing I like and haven’t seen anyone talking about is the Book of Bill confirming that Ford believes Filbrick wouldn’t want him back in New Jersey unless he was rich. It’s ambiguous whether this is something his dad actually said to him, a reaction to seeing Stan get kicked out and given the same ultimatum, or just Bill preying on Ford’s belief that everyone will see him as worthless if he doesn’t succeed at his goals, but it’s nice to have it made more explicit that Ford’s relationship with the non-Stan parts of his family is also fairly strained.

[llamagoddessofficial]

i feel like flirting-wise, red is obvi the G.O.A.T, like bro could make a rock blush scarlet if he felt like it, dudes got all the moves, all the charisma, and the Respect Women Juice flowing through his veins, the total package.

sans is the more subtle/stupid flirter, doing things like choosing to hang out with you over others, being the first one he talks to, stuff like that, but then also will flirt through puns, not like red's charisma droppers, but like groan-in-your-bed-later-that-night-because-why-did-you-SAY-THAT-IT-WAS-SO-CRINGE type puns.

skull duh flirts by being more blunt than wet paper and doing things like cleaning, cooking, basically malewifing.

however, i feel like he has just the tiniest bit of the Red Certified Charisma in him, and that once in a blue moon, he will drop the most smooth, heart-pounding, swoonworthy, twirling-my-hair kicking-my-feet, instant wine-red blushes flirt EVER-

and have said it on a spur of the moment thing. like all those jacked up brain-cells came together in one (1) unified effort to flirt witb pwettbdy lady

You're damn right anon

[mortuarybees]

it's odd when you're transmasc the way that when you make a choice like cutting your hair people will crawl out of the woodwork to grieve what you have done as if you have hurt someone. like your cis or former self is the poor innocent whipping girl forced to bear the scars of the choices you (some separate outside malevolent being) make.

[hilacopter]

I will probably be burned at the stake for this but I hate how popular ships in fandoms (ESPECIALLY here) are always based on WhO'S tHe MOsT QuEeRCoDEd iN CanOn and not on whether the ship is actually. good. I won't deny that a lot of these popular ships are good and it would be fine if they didn't become the literal fanon norm and every time someone has other ships for the characters or god forbid, doesn't like the ship, everyone goes "we totally respect your opinion and all but they're literally so gay how can you not see how gay they are you dumbfuck-"

[non-plutonian-druid]

[ID: a comic in the TUA paranatural au, depicting Patch recruiting Lila to spy on the Activity Club for her. Both of them are about twelve. The first three panels are a flashback of an argument between Diego and Patch.

Flashback, Panel 1: A younger Patch shouts at a younger Diego, "WHAT is the Activity Club!" Diego growls "None of your business."

Panel 2: Patch says, teary-eyed, "You've been so different since you joined."

Panel 3: Diego looks guilty while Patch continues, "It's like it ate your brain! Why won't you talk to me anymore?"

Present Day, Panel 1: Patch is leaning on a desk while Lila sits on it. Patch says, "So, yeah. That's why I want to know what the Activity Club does."

Panel 2: Lila kicks her feet and says " And that's why you want me to join YOUR club. So I can spy on them for you." Patch smiles, embarrassed, and says "Yeah, basically."

Panel 3: Patch hunches her shoulders, saying, "It sounds bad when you say it like that."

Panel 4: She looks beseechingly up at Lila. "But I'm really worried about him. He won't talk to any of his friends. What the hell did they do to him!"

Panel 5: Lila waves her hand reassuringly. "No, I totally get it!"

Panel 6: Lila holds out her hand to Patch, smiling. "I'll tell you everything I learn."

Panel 7: She continues, "Trust me." Meanwhile, she writes a list in a notebook, headed with "Lies for Patch". End ID]

[sparky-is-spiders]

Jonelias Week Day 1 (Which is definitely today I swear), for the prompt "No Powers AU"

This one... maybe got away from me. This is actually only the first half of what I've written so far, and probably the first third overall! I do plan to post this to Ao3 at some point (although I suspect I'll need to do a lengthy round of editing first lmao). It's some very self-indulgent nonsense, which is a lot of what I write, but now it's getting put in the main tags of a ship during said ship's event week. So. It may also be a little bit "aromantic dude tries to figure out what having a crush is supposed to be like." Also a lot of "dude who took Principals of Accounting once pretending it knows what office work is like." Anyway, quick warning before we begin, and the rest will be under the read-more:

Stalking (played for laughs) for most of the fic.

Just. A weird amount of obsession.

Ok that should be it I think. Fic under the cut.

Jon's new boss was, quite possibly, the most boring man in the world. He wore the same outfit every day (pale dress shirt with dark unpatterned tie and gray slacks and matching suit jacket). The only personal effect in his entire office was a potted plant on the windowsill (some sort of succulent, and definitely fake). He always arrived to work exactly half an hour early and left exactly half an hour late. The only hobby he appeared to show any interest in was scheduling, which he seemed to find both deeply engaging and remarkably irritating. In fact, he was apparently so opposed to the idea of mixing his work with his personal life that he might as well not have existed beyond the walls of their office. Jon had never been more fascinated by anyone else in his entire life.

It stared with the transfer to the accounting department. Elias had met with him personally to get him acclimated to his new role. He had been blandly polite, and blandly handsome, and Jon had stopped listening to him about five minutes into their conversation. It was probably bad form, really. The software Elias was droning on and on about sounded like it was about to become a central feature of his days. He really should've been paying attention to it. Instead, he pretended to make eye contact while zeroing in on the top of Bouchard's forehead (a very useful trick, really) and became inordinately focused on the small lock of hair that had fallen across it. It was terribly distracting, and Jon had wondered how he hadn't noticed it. And then he wondered how it had come to be there. And then he had built up an entire story involving a murder, an illicit affair with the assistant director of marketing, and the potted succulent. And then he had noticed Bouchard eying him with what could've been suspicion or amusement or irritation or nothing whatsoever, and had been forced to rapidly pretend to care about their company's bad debt expense policy. Bouchard had indulged him, and had spoken with the calm authority of someone who knew what they were talking about, and had even managed to avoid being overtly condescending (a feat forever out of Jon's reach). At the end he had shaken Jon's hand (with a nice, firm grip), and had told him "I'm looking forward to working with you, I'm sure you'll make a wonderful member of our team." Jon had left that meeting with a mind shrouded in a fog of boredom and a faint sensation of warmth which he decided was best attributed to curiosity and left otherwise unexamined. Over the next few weeks, Jon had tried to subtly inquire into Bouchard's life. At the time, he had been naively under the impression that surely he must have let slip something about his life; some odd quirk or funny story or harmless bit of information which could justify Jon's blooming curiosity. Unfortunately; "He lives in Chelsea, I'm pretty sure?" (Sasha) "He's currently in a meeting. Honestly Jon, you'll be better off just sending an email. Now can I please get back to work?" (Rosie, probably lying about the meeting) "He actually lives here in the office. Set up a cozy little home away from home in one of the storage closets and sneaks out at night to raid the canteen. And he's having an affair with the assistant director of marketing." (Tim, definitely lying (but maybe a mind reader? Also, full of brilliant ideas for places Jon could maybe set up a cot whenever he needs to stay overnight)) Clearly, Jon would have to take matters into his own hands if he wanted answers. That was fine. It could be his own private little research project.

Jon liked to think that the entire thing had actually been quite reasonable, and that he had acted within the bounds of their pre-established relationship as employee and supervisor. Surely any rational person had to realize that nobody could possibly be that uninteresting. Anyone would be curious as to what dark secrets Bouchard his behind his well-tailored suits and polite, professional demeanor. … perhaps most rational persons would not meticulously record the movements, behavior, and daily appearance of their colleague in a discreet notebook (with annotations, color-coding, and graphs where appropriate), but Jon had always prided himself on his dedication to research and understanding. So far Jon had collected frustratingly little data. If Bouchard was hiding anything, it wasn't apparent from his schedule (see pages 8-13, figure 2.b), his eating habits (see page 22), or his lone plant (see page five, figure 1.c). His breaks did seem specially timed to avoid other people (and he appeared not to engage in many social behaviors generally), but he never acted irritated or otherwise unhappy to encounter one of his subordinates, so Jon wasn't entirely sure if it was deliberate avoidance or simple coincidence. Really, the only truly odd thing about him was his inexplicable interest in Jon. That very morning, for example, Bouchard had stopped by his cubicle for a fifteen minute discussion on the upcoming Annual Team Luncheon, an event Jon had never attended before (due to an annual migraine which coincidentally always happened to occur on the exact date of the luncheon), which Jon did not plan to attend, and which honestly sounded like some sort of violation of the Geneva Convention. The topic itself was not especially odd (small talk was an archaic tradition which had stubbornly clung on in every workplace Jon had ever set foot in), but Bouchard's low propensity for inter-office socialization combined with the fact that he had both chosen Jon specifically as his conversational partner was… highly suspicious. Most people who encountered Jon inevitably concluded that he was more effort than he was worth (an attitude Jon mostly appreciated).

And of course, there had also been their interaction two days ago, when Elias had paused briefly to inquire as to whether Jon would be staying late, and what he was working on, and if he might perhaps consider heading home soon because there was only so much overtime they could pay him. Or on Friday, when he had managed to hold two separate conversations with Jon where very little was said. Honestly, Jon somewhat suspected that Elias had spoken to him more in the past few weeks than he had spoken to any of their colleagues for the entire time Jon had been there to observe him. Most of Jon's notes were now dedicated to their interactions. From his cot in the unused storage room (which was indeed a good place to stay overnight, thank you Tim), he could jot down everything he recalled about their interaction; it had begun at 8:32 and had concluded at 8:47; the weather was warm and slightly humid, although the office interior remained at a comfortable 21 °C. Bouchard's shirt had been a nice, cool gray, which complemented the silver of his eyes. Jon (who had been busy digging for his favorite pen (the ink was a lovely deep green color, and it was usually kept on the left side of the top desk drawer, and Jon had no idea where else it could have possibly gone)) had settled on "irritation" as his tone, which Bouchard either had not noticed or had not cared enough to acknowledge. He had easily dominated the conversation, and Jon could admit in the sanctity of his research journal that his voice had been soothing enough to cool away some of Jon's annoyance. He wrote his conclusion: Subject behaved near-identically in tone, posture, body language, and apparent mood as he has in all previous communications. Subject displayed no strong thoughts or opinions on subject of discussion nor conversational partner. Interaction was pleasant but slightly dull, no new information discovered. It was almost exactly the same as every previous conclusion. Jon had to admit, so many months with so little progress was… discouraging. He shifted on the narrow mattress and winced when his movements aggravated his backache (which was surely unrelated to his frequent occupancy of the cot). It was becoming more and more apparent that the only possible solution was to do some actual, direct investigation. His first idea (break into Bouchard's office) seemed a tad far (also, he didn't know how to pick locks). His second idea (follow him home) seemed a stretch further than the previous one, and was perhaps best saved as a last resort. His third idea (something something computers? (perhaps "idea" was a bit generous)) would almost certainly require Sasha, who would have questions Jon couldn't answer. He flipped idly through his notes, half-skimming, half-thinking. It was only when his gaze landed on figure 2.b, Weekly Schedule of E. Bouchard, that he actually came up with something reasonable. Something actionable.

[lost-estradiographer]

I

know that voting for the status quo sucks.

To say it "sucks" massively understates the exact amount of suffering that exists under the status quo, an amount that I acknowledge I am too privileged to ever fully grasp.

I cannot magically provide some viable third-party candidate just barely a month before the election. I cannot solve Israel/Palestine Conflict that has haunted the world for over 70 years. I am a 29-year old transgender woman working her way through her own mental illnesses, trauma, and an undergraduate degree. I was never going to be the one to solve anything here.

All I can tell you is that regardless of whether you vote or not, there will be a presidential election. It's going to be a shitshow, regardless. Whether you vote or not, there will be a different president in January. Voting for the status quo may not be directly in your interests.

We had four years of Trump and we are still trying to unfuck ourselves from that. The beginning of my antagonistic relationship with the government was protesting in the streets of DC under his administration. I've fled from the Metro PD. I've put on a change of clothes and slipped out the back door of a gay sports bar.

Fucking vote.

Fucking vote.

Fucking vote.

Honestly, I

I don't want to see this voter apathy shit anymore.

People are going to keep dying under any president. Any president can, and probably wil, be morally culpable for the deaths of innocent people, both in the country and abroad. Carter might be the last president we had that wasn't overtly a war criminal and we still had foreign civilians killed by U.S. military involvement under the Carter admin.

I'm torn between asking you to block me, or asking you to message me, if you're taking the route of voter apathy. I'll tell you right away, here and now, that I probably don't have a solution to whatever problem is keeping you from voting for Harris. I can't even solve my own problems right, tbh. The government isn't really here for me, either.

But there isn't going to be some sort of miraculous revolution that results in The Ending Where Everyone Lives. If there's a revolution, then supply chains will falter and children and the infirm will die of preventable diseases and infections and complications in hospitals that would have otherwise been able to easily deal with such things. That's what happens in a revolution. I'm after the long-term idea where Humanity as a species lives. I'm after the route where we don't have an ending, we keep going.

Fucking vote, because exactly one of the two leading presidential candidates believes climate change is real, and it is the single greatest threat to all life on earth. We have spent the past 250 years, not just playing God with the environment, but actively creating an ecological niche in which future generations of humanity must continue to play God with the environment, dragging it back to a healthy place drop by drop, inch by inch, a degree at a time.

Or, I mean, don't vote. Either way, we'll all die at some point. Perhaps some of us will be lucky enough to die standing by our principles.

Those lucky few will become soil one day, just like I will.

I am begging you on my hands and knees to fucking vote, though, because our options are The Status Quo vs. Worse. That's

That's it.

There is no door number three right now. Our system, our flawed and broken and imbalanced and unjust system, does not accommodate for a third door. Whether you vote or not, you will be dragged through either Door 1 or Door 2 with all of humanity, as we whirl through the cosmos upon our tiny little speck of dust. The only other legitimate option is to allow oneself to become trampled; to become soil early. I don't say legitimate to give this option legitimacy, but to make clear that again, there is no door three. Door three is a casket. A one-way bed.

I didn't vote in 2016, and I'm hoping that you'll vote for the status quo this time, because that's the route that gives me the best odds of having a long and healthy life to regret my failure through inaction.

Just please

Fucking vote.

Or again, if you're taking the apathy route, probably just save me the time of blocking you, because you're not going to magically pull a viable third-party candidate out of your pocket less than six weeks before the election.

[wooawi]

Lila as a magical creature whose abilities revolve around manipulation and mind control. Yes, her lies are careless and stupid, but why try to be clever when you can just magic everyone to think you’re clever?

Upon entering Francois Dupont and stumbling across the holders of Tikki and Plagg, she thought it’d be extra funny to fuck with them specifically. So, she purposefully left them out of her school-wide manipulation.

It is now day 97 of coming up with more and more ridiculous sounding lies, and Marinette is on the edge of losing her mind. Adrien gave up on outing Lila a month ago in favour of staring blankly at his friends.

Lila still finds it just as funny as day 1.

[amethystpath-writes]

Entertainment

(NOT A PR0MPT)

******

“I don’t love you,” Hero said. “I won’t love you, even though they all suspect it.”

“Isn’t it disappointing?” Villain asked.

Hero only hummed in question. She felt serene despite the storm brewing in her mind. For now, she would listen.

“To make another human your source of entertainment? You are televised. You don’t see your shepherds now, but there is a show playing in their minds during this very moment. You. Naked in my bed- as if we could ever be lovers. A scandal- because no one can ever be good enough. Nobody is allowed to be The Hero. That person, should they ever arise, must always be eradicated.”

Villain stared at the night sky from the park bench, swollen and wet from the rain which had passed. The dark clouds above appeared so thick that they stretched across space, blocking even the moon from seeing her subjects below. Another storm was being pushed through. “They wait for the day you’re found out- living out any trope that serves them, even if it’s not true of your life at all. Enemies to lovers.” He scoffed. “The new fad. Unfortunate for them, I hate you,” he said, and his eyes never left the stormy clouds. “We are not their love story, and I’ll spite you at every turn for making them think this rivalry could turn to such. Tell me, why did you decide to become their next victim, hero?”

“You make it sound like I wanted them to call me a traitor under their breaths.” Her voice held no contempt. She was too tired for that- for anything besides a quietly piqued interest. “I don’t want to betray them. I fight you because they don’t have the ability to. It’s all for them. It has always been for them.”

“And yet”- Villain shrugged- “what have they done for you? Spread rumors? Spoken to teen entertainment vlogs about their accounts on witnessing our ‘dates’? None of it is real. I tell myself I’m fighting for something, but the truth is, none of us are. Not even you, though you think your purpose is to oppose me- to oppose evil and all that is ill. It’s not.”

Progressively, Hero felt the tips of her ears warming- a deep contrast compared to the cold air around her. “I don’t entertain them.”

“You serve them. Is that phrasing any more to your liking?”

She couldn’t argue that. Hero did serve her community- by fighting Villain, by bringing justice to him. Or…trying to at least. The rumors came with their own consequences. She was outcasted. No one trusted her even though she never gave them a reason to distrust her. Hero fought Villain. That was all she ever did, but one person got it into their head that maybe- just maybe- they weren’t fighting at all. Maybe Hero and Villain were living a fairytale. Maybe they were an item and the fights were all a facade so at least one of them would be praised.

Still, it had nothing to do with entertainment. Hero didn’t want to think of it that way. If she did, it meant she did all of this for nothing. She had no purpose. She wasted her time, energy, and effort.

“Why did we meet here?” It was going to start raining again, and Hero was already shivering. She only met him tonight because doing so meant he was with her, in sight, and unproductive in his schemes. He volunteered her as a distraction; she wasn’t smart enough to say no.

“We might only be a means of entertainment, but I’ve learned to appreciate the act. You and I are not friends, but they think so. There’s a camera- over there…” He pointed to a tree, and Hero cursed under her breath. “And it’s been filming us the entire time. Having casual conversation on a stormy night where no one else would dare relax. Nice and private- though cold, but we’re willing to sacrifice that warmth if it means being together, right?”

“You set me up.” Here she thought she was allowing herself to distract him, but it was his plan all along. Of course he wasn’t wanting to fix this problem. “You said you were tired of the rumors, Villain. That’s why we were here, to lay them to rest.”

Villain laughed and finally looked to Hero. His eyes trailed to her ears, all red from her frustration. It irritated her even more and she untucked her hair. “You aren’t just their entertainment, Hero. You’re mine, too.” He muttered, “So easy.”

She wanted to argue: I’m not your entertainment; I’m Im no one’s, but it would only prove him right. Looking at his smile now, Hero regretted even pulling her hair from behind her ears.

I can fight him now. The camera would see it and the people would know that the two were not lovers at all. But again, she’d be amusing him. Right now, he was expecting her to make a move, to- to retaliate, if only to entertain him more. Yet, if she didn’t do anything, the tape he had now would only confirm in the community’s mind that she was a scandal. Untrue and unfit for being their voice. Would they arrest her?

“I’m all you have now. Your only security.”

Hero shook her head. “No. That’s not true.”

“Then who else do you have?”

The sky was sprinkling now. Fat cold raindrops touched on Hero’s shoulders and she shivered. “They’ll believe me,” she said, though it came out as a whisper. Still, Villain heard.

“Do they believe you now?”

No.

“If you are not with me, you are nothing but a bad face to them. I can give you a new identity. I can give you a new start, one where you can be the one entertained- not them.”

His hand touched her face. She flinched. When had she closed her eyes and when had he stood from the park bench? When did the sprinkling of them sky become thin, pelting drops?

It stung: his hand, the rain, the biting cold, the realization that she was running out of options.

“I don’t need your help.”

“They’ll arrest you. Treason,” he said, and rubbed his thumb across Hero’s cheekbone. “Isn’t that the highest punishable crime?”

Was it? She wasn’t sure.

He was scaring her.

He was scaring her, and it was working so well that she felt herself sweating despite also quivering in the downpour.

His fingers wrapped under her chin while his other hand rested on her shoulder. “I can help.”

“You’re the reason I’m in this position!” Hero tried to rip away, but Villain stopped her with a heavy grip. “I don’t want your help. I don’t want your help.”

“You put yourself in this position by fighting something you had no right mind fighting. You were unprepared, Hero. Ill-advised.” His thumb strummed her cheek again, calming, manipulative. “I only helped you realize.”

The drop on her cheek was warm- a tear, not a raindrop. “You told me we’re not friends.”

“No. I pity you.” The hand on her shoulder fell and Villain wrapped his arm around her back, pulling her into a hug. Instinctively, she turned her head against his chest. His shirt was soaked and cold, but it was comfortable. She stayed, forgetting entirely who he was.

When had the heat left her ears? Was it when the rain started or when she laid her head on his chest? “We’re not friends,” she said, but as she stood in the pouring rain, cheek pressed against Villain’s wet shirt, she couldn’t imagine leaving. Let them have their entertainment, she almost said, but no. She wasn’t supposed to be here.

Almost seeming to read her thoughts, Villain asked, “Who else do you have, Hero? Stand with me in this rain; let it wash away the hero you tried to be, and start anew.”

Thunder crackled across the sky. Hero remained silent. Enemies…lovers…amusement…what did it matter? She was comfortable in the rain, comfortable in the cold. “Will you delete the footage if I agree?”

He hummed.

“Delete it,” she begged, though her head never left his chest. “I want to start over. I would do anything.”

“Will,” Villain corrected. “I have some ideas for you.”

For now, they would leave the open sky, full of lightning and threatened existences. They would leave, and Hero would cry, grieve over her attempted heroism, and look to Villain- of all people- for a shoulder to cry on.

And as all villains do, he would take advantage of her, warp her mind, make her believe that she was wrong to be a hero, that she was a source of entertainment, though we, dear audience, know she was an inspiration all along.

[gaydogmarriage]

alhaitham is such a lying liar who lies dude. acting like he and the sumeru boys gang have always been besties since forever. "that's how it's always been with the four of us" - man who has barely spoken to most of these people before he decided to team up with them to overthrow the government and regularly skips social gatherings with them. yeah right buddy ok

[nostalgic-muffins]

cant believe there r people out there that hate mephisto. if you hate him, write me 9 paragraphs on why you hate him. write me a college level essay on why you think hes the worst obey me character. i DARE you.

[willowser]

pls tell us more about arranged marriage with gojou 🥺💖 (i love this trope for sooooo many reasons for him...especially cuz it would force him to be vulnerable and open 🥺)

OKAY HERE'S WHAT I WAS THINKING (tagging @stellamancer here bc i just wanted to scream about her picture in her message 💀💀)

i'm imagining he and getou on the day of your arrival at the palace, before the wedding, and they're kind of standing back and out of the way. making murmured comments to each other, like "the waistcoat on the zenin boy is entirely ill-fitting" LMAOOO like gossiping little ladies, because they have nothing better to do akfbdisjak and gojo has been dreading this time all his life, and now it's here and he's just sort of 😒🙄 ready to get it over with, marry some noble gal with the personality of wet paper, who lives to please him, as everyone else in the palace does.

and — getou knows he's hating this and they haven't really spoken about it seriously, but he just kind of glances over at him, how gojo's stress is revealed in all his little ways; eyes a little too wide behind his glasses, the tiny forming crease between his eyebrows, the occasional jump of muscle in his cheek.

and he tries to get a little serious, because he knows gojo is gonna hold it in all day like he always does with everything, so getou quietly mumbles, "what do you think, then?"

about — anything. about all of it. whatever gojo might wanna say, just between the two of then.

but of course gojo deflects, because it's too early for him to be honest; he shrugs, flippant, and says, "yaga tells me there's not a scandal to her name, nor her family's. shame," he pouts, "would have enjoyed a little something to look forward to."

AND THEN HERE YOU COME, around the corridor behind them, to BOTH of their surprise. getou immediately coughs and looks away, as if he wasn't literally involved in the conversation LOL and you just stand right in front of satoru, jaw cocked as you narrow your eyes at him.

and he's actually afraid ??? LIKE OH SHIT WHOOPS, especially from the look on your face ??? and it makes his heart race a little bit, even moreso when you say,

"perhaps you should be looking for a wife elsewhere, his grace, if it's entertainment you're expecting."

HE'S IN LOVE. WHIPPED. HEAD OVER HEELS RIGHT THERE, as getou laughs under his breath and claps him on the back, and gojo just stands there with his mouth a little parted as you skirt away akgbsjskamam

[valeovalairs]

That panic you feel when the girl that was literally your gay awakening walks into your place of work while you’re just. Swiffering. And you make eye contact.

[euphoricfilter]

how do you politely decline someone