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mariacallous · 1 day ago

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The closing of Dupont Circle felt like a bad omen. The park and its namesake neighborhood, a longtime hub of gay life in Washington, D.C., were expected to be packed during WorldPride 2025. But on June 2, the National Park Service announced that it would be shutting down the place on the celebration’s culminating weekend.

The intrusion of federal Washington on the District was unsettling but not unprecedented; the circle, like many of the most popular spaces in the city, is not under local control. More unusual was the chaos that followed. For many residents, there was a sense of fear that the federal government was intentionally excluding queer people from a beloved green space. (The NPS later said that the city’s police chief had asked for the closure.) The shutdown order was reversed the next day, then suddenly reinstated. Black security fencing went up on Friday, and then came down again the next morning, opening the circle just in time for the headline parade, on June 7.

The entire affair—the opening, the closing, the paranoia, and then the alarming news of a shooting (which was unrelated and, thankfully, nonfatal)—could be easily put down to the vagaries of big-city life. But it also served as a heavy-handed metaphor for the general vibe of Pride month in the capital and across America: severe emotional whiplash.

For D.C.’s queer community, this was supposed to be an unambiguously triumphant June, one marking multiple important anniversaries. WorldPride, an international LGBTQ festival, had hastily chosen D.C. for its ninth event, after the initial 2025 host, Taiwan, pulled out. The change was fortuitous, in part because it coincided with the 50th anniversary of Pride events in D.C. (first organized in 1975 just a few blocks north of Dupont Circle). And most significantly, this June is the 10th anniversary of the Supreme Court ruling in Obergefell v. Hodges, which legalized same-sex marriage nationwide.

Every Pride is a commemoration of LGBTQ history, as well as a celebration of how far the community has come. For many in Washington, by some measures the gayest city in America, the marking of a decade since the Obergefell decision in the city where the Court ruled represented the ultimate victory lap. But the actual event was more mixed. Although organizers initially expected 3 million visitors, attendance was reportedly only in the hundreds of thousands. Many foreigners skipped it, citing the United States’ recent detainment of travelers and noncitizens over their public statements or social-media posts. Domestic visitors were wary, too, of partying in the federal government’s backyard—particularly in the days leading up to President Donald Trump’s big military parade. Trump and his party have made the rollback of LGBTQ rights a nationwide priority, and more encroachments—perhaps even the reversal of Obergefell—appear to be on conservatives’ radar. Backlash has officially arrived just as some members of Generation Z, the queerest cohort in American history, take their first steps into adulthood. Instead of reveling in their progress, they’re having to reenvision their future and wondering which rights are safe and which they might not be able to count on.

Ten years is a long time for a young person. The teens I saw reveling in the streets in rainbow clothes, hair glitter, and body paint were born recently enough that they might not even remember the day of the Obergefell ruling. Older members of their generation were just teenagers when it came down. The bisexual rapper Doechii, who performed at a free concert near the National Mall on Pride weekend, was 16 in 2015; the lesbian pop star Renée Rapp, a grand marshal of the WorldPride parade, was only 15. The youngest Gen Zers, born in 2012, were toddlers at that time. Today, more than one in five Gen Z adults identify as LGBTQ, a greater share than in any generation before them. They grew up, and many of them came out, in the most gay-friendly social climate our country has ever seen. They have had role models in every corner of mainstream American life: Congress, the cover of Time magazine, the NFL, the military, The Bachelor. Things that felt impossible for so many teenagers in decades past—using gender-neutral pronouns; cutting their hair short; bringing a same-sex partner to a high-school dance—were normal for an unprecedented number of them. Target marketed them so much Pride merchandise that they shared memes mocking the collection.

But now that they’re reaching maturity, these same young people are watching their status quo erode. The past few years have been marked by harsh, vitriolic backlash. Homophobic language and slurs are back in vogue among a contingent of influencers. The Target jokes stopped being funny when, in 2023, right-wing social-media attacks on its Pride collection got so bad that the company pulled some of the items from its stores, citing threats to employees. The Republican Party has aggressively challenged transgender people’s ability to serve in the military, play sports, update their IDs, and medically transition.

And over the past six months, rescinding rights has become official policy. Trump has targeted individual transgender teenage athletes on social media, while his government has cut funding for HIV research and prevention worldwide. State governments and major religious denominations are challenging same-sex marriage, and corporations with a recent history of unfurling rainbow flags—Booz Allen Hamilton, Mastercard, Pepsi—have pulled out of sponsoring Pride events. The White House called LGBTQ-specific suicide-hotline services “radical grooming contractors” and abruptly halted its partnership with the Trevor Project, a nonprofit focused on preventing self-harm by queer youth. The Supreme Court just ruled that a Tennessee ban on gender-affirming care for minors can stand. Meanwhile, support for gay marriage shows a record-high partisan divide, with a major dip in Republican approval and even a slight overall decline.

Pushback against social progress isn’t a new phenomenon, and neither is adversity for LGBTQ people. But prior generations grew up knowing it firsthand, whereas Gen Z has been raised in a world where, each June, huge rainbow parades bearing the imprimaturs of corporations and local governments rolled down the streets of every major U.S. city. That gave them plenty of reasons to believe that the recurrent waves of discrimination their elders faced—the Lavender Scare, Ronald Reagan ignoring the AIDS crisis, the 1996 Defense of Marriage Act—had been relegated to history’s dustbin. The milestones of their youth, after all, were victories. But these wins lulled the movement into what Sarah McBride, the 34-year-old transgender representative from Delaware, described to my colleague Hanna Rosin as “a false sense of security.” After Obergefell, there was a “dynamic where public opinion was sort of a mile wide but an inch deep,” she said. And, in her view, the LGBTQ coalition coasted instead of carrying on the work of public persuasion.

Now the reality of the moment is setting in, and it’s taking a psychological toll. “I always say people come to a doctor’s office for two reasons: They’re either in pain, or they’re afraid,” Max Doyle, a physician assistant at Whitman-Walker Health, in D.C., who treats many queer Gen Zers and Millennials, told me. “Lately, my patients have been coming in because they’re in mental pain and they’re afraid.” He’s been seeing an increase in depression and anxiety in his patients, and referring more of them to psychiatry.

The ebb of LGBTQ acceptance provokes serious, immediate material concerns for people who are beginning their adult lives. They must ask themselves questions like: Where is it safe to live? Should I pursue gender-affirming surgery before it’s too late? Should I get married now? Will we still be able to use surrogacy or IVF to start a family if we wait a few years? The freedom these young adults grew up with was, in part, the freedom not to think about these things. That liberty was incomplete—stratified by class, race, region, or pure luck—but wherever it did exist, it represented the fulfillment of a long-held dream, one in which queer people would be able to pursue careers, relationships, and families without fear of being outed or ostracized. Having to ask Where and when can I hold my beloved’s hand? is caustic to a person’s dignity. Having to wonder Where can I safely use the bathroom? is abrasive to the soul. It fundamentally alters one’s brain chemistry to see Sesame Street accused of “grooming” for posting a Pride message.

Doyle is 29, and a Millennial. He says he’s not entirely surprised by this climate of backlash, especially because he grew up in the more conservative Midwest. But his co-workers at Whitman-Walker, which has been providing LGBTQ health care in the nation’s capital for more than 50 years, belong to many generations, and he finds that his older colleagues and patients, especially those who survived the AIDS epidemic, are “more jaded”—but also “better prepared.”

This year’s WorldPride was loud, colorful, and full of confetti. As anyone who has spent June in D.C. might have expected, the air was thick and humid, and attendees were dripping with sweat basically as soon as the sun rose. Signs implored the crowd to support trans troops, to get tested for sexually transmitted infections, to stand against queer-book bans, to join IKEA’s customer loyalty club. Drag queens threw beads and flags from floats; pop hits and disco classics wafted down 14th Street. There was plenty of good humor and an undercurrent of naughtiness and rebellion.

Despite the political climate, WorldPride felt very much like a regular D.C. Pride. These kinds of family-friendly gatherings contain an implicit but powerful argument for acceptance. They glorify the power and importance of love in the lives of all kinds of people. They make gay life visible and diminish stigma or shame. And, crucially, they emphasize similarities instead of highlighting differences, in the hopes of generating wider approval. That spirit can be found in the majority ruling in Obergefell, in which then-Justice Anthony Kennedy wrote that gay and lesbian couples respect marriage “so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves”; in McBride’s belief that her allies could have focused more on making the case for expanding trans rights; and in the travel-size trans flag I saw in someone’s back pocket branded with the logo of the mayor’s office.

That’s not the only way LGBTQ people have made progress, though. Today, recognizing that decades of change may not be as irreversible as they’d thought, some Gen Zers look back to their radical elders in search of models for moving forward. They counter homophobia and transphobia with slogans like “The First Pride Was a Riot.” They argue that the power of Stonewall came from the open rebellion of an unapologetic, unassimilated group. If even Elmo is getting called a groomer, their line of thinking goes, then being palatable doesn’t work: You might as well show up, as many did at WorldPride, in leather and drag.

The first D.C. Gay Pride Day, in 1975, was deliberately split across two sides of the street, the organizer Deacon MacCubbin has recalled over the years. He’d struck a deal with local media: They could film one side of the block; the other was for people who didn’t want to be outed to friends, family, or co-workers. In light of that history, this year’s parade, documented openly by thousands of iPhones and public Instagram posts, feels less like a typical party than a minor miracle.

About 69 million Gen Z people live in the U.S.; perhaps 10 million or more of them identify as queer. They can’t possibly agree on everything and may not have much in common at all, but that is a staggering number of people who acknowledge and share something that many born before them took to their graves. They may make very different choices about what their lives will look like, but even if it becomes much harder to be openly gay or trans in America in the coming years, five decades of history cannot easily be undone.

“We’ve been through this before, and it’s really hard on people, but we’re gonna get through this,” Doyle told me. This is what he counsels his patients, based on decades of knowledge about how, for instance, AIDS activists made medications more available and affordable, and trans people shared and used hormones long before they were widely prescribed. Those 10 million people represent a durable cultural change because they have grown up feeling entitled to be themselves in private and in public. That word—entitled—is frequently thrown around to insult this generation, but there are some cases in which the unabashed expectation of fair treatment is a clear source of strength. Personal liberty is an American entitlement, and these young people will not readily give it up.

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valeisaslut · 23 hours ago

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you guys… collide just hit 10k hits on AO3 and i don’t even have words. like — what the hell?! i’m sitting here trying to process it and it still doesn’t feel real. when i first posted it on AO3 back in april, with a brand new account and no expectations, i never in a million years thought it would find its way to so many people. i just hoped a handful of readers would stumble across it and maybe connect with it. that was enough for me, and it still is.

honestly, this whole journey has felt like a beautiful, surreal fever dream — one i’ll never fully wrap my head around. it’s been a whirlwind and you all showed up. you gave it a space, gave it a voice, gave it a life.

thank you doesn’t even cover it. thank you for reading, for sharing, for loving this piece of my heart like it was your own. i don’t think i’ll ever get used to it, and i don’t think i want to. i’ll just stay here, grateful and overwhelmed, knowing this thing we built together is still growing — still finding its way. and that means absolutely everything to me🤍😭

#val yaps .ᐟ ₊˚⊹ ♡#VAL CRIES!

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pseudophan · 2 days ago

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god, I'm watching dip and pip right now, one of their latest videos, and all of a sudden I check your blog and there's that gifset from a million years ago, I got such whiplash from seeing them so young and then now. it makes me emotional too, because like. they've ACTUALLY BEEN together for fifteen fucking years and counting and it's crazy. and I feel like they never expected it, all those years ago, to last this much????? and I'm so sure it'll just keep going for another thirty, forty years, these bitches are in for LIFE, nora

#started typing out several different replies but like. yeah.#answered

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lastoneout · 13 hours ago

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Putting this here because I don't wanna bother the OP of that post, but like come the fuck on TLJ does Luke SO BAD.

I get that OG trilogy Luke is very young and people change as they age, and on top of that trauma can affect a person long after the trauma is over, but I'm sorry if losing his fucking hand didn't stop him from trying and succeeding to get through to the good that was very much still inside Anakin then there is nothing that would ever stop him from trying to get through to Ben Solo. Like you're telling me Luke Skywalker offers forgiveness to DARTH FUCKING VADER, who up until very recently he only knew as a vile, evil monster who had murdered millions of people and subjugated millions more AND attacked him and cut his hand off, and still have the sheer willpower to look at that fucking war criminal and say "I'm gonna save him" and BE RIGHT, that Luke, would see his nephew, who hasn't done anything wrong yet, and think "I should kill him so he doesn't maybe become evil" like?? MAKE IT MAKE SENSE, IT DOESN'T.

Vader was a whole entire fucking adult who had up until the last like 15 minutes of his life has spent the majority of it committing countless horrific atrocities with no remorse and Luke knew he wasn't so far gone he couldn't be reached and would not fucking give up until he was saved. Luke faced down goddamn Emperor Palpatine, he risked himself becoming corrupted and joining them, risked DYING despite being the only person left who could actually pose a threat to either Vader or Palpatine, to save the galaxy and his father, and you expect me to believe that fucking Luke Skywalker wouldn't have destroyed himself before laying a hand on a TROUBLED CHILD HIS SISTER TRUSTED HIM TO TAKE CARE OF.

It's just disrespectful. I 100% agree with Mark Hamill about that not being Luke because it wasn't. Luke has always had optimism and kindness as his core driving forces(pun not intended) making him into an asshole cynic to what? Shock people?? Luke would never end up like that in that way. If Luke would go to those lengths to try to save Darth Vader then he would never try to kill Kylo Ren/Ben. If Luke understood that DARTH FUCKING VADER was also a victim and not beyond saving then there's no world in which he would give up on a teenager who hadn't done anything wrong.

And tbh I don't think Ben turning evil would have been the reason Luke gave up on rebuilding the Jedi order because I don't think he would try to rebuild it in the first place, at least not the way it was before it fell. He looked up to the Jedi for sure but he understood their flaws better than anyone else alive. There's no world in which Luke ends up trying to recreate the Jedi and then giving up on helping the galaxy after trying to kill his nephew so he doesn't become evil, and there's no world in which a guy who knew how much dealing with Yoda was would treat Rey the way Yoda treated him. That's just not how Luke Skywalker wouldn't act. Never in a million years. Luke also never let his own flaws or the flaws of others stop him from helping people, especially his family. He lost his and and his friend got sold to a warlord and he still kept showing the fuck up for them. Did dwell on his failures he just got up and said "What's next?" That's who Luke is, for fucks sake. Luke is not a complicated character it's genuinely impressive that anyone was able to fuck him up this bad.

Every actor in that film deserved a better movie. I loved Rose and Poe and Finn and that movie did not(literally so disrespectful to make all the character of color be the unserious b-plot especially after how important Finn was in the first film, they all deserved better). I love Luke Skywalker and that film did not. I love the optimism and fantastical joy of Star Wars and that movie shat all over it for the sake of edgy, disappointing, grimdark twists. I'd rather watch the entire prequel trilogy than ever have to sit through even a minute of The Last Jedi. What a fucking disaster of a film.

#tlj salt #star wars salt

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jeonscatalyst · 23 hours ago

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I just have to ask them, since that cult won't stay out of Jikook spaces or off Jikook's back. Why do you want Tae to date Jk, who you claim does fanservice & hurts him? Why do you want Tae to date Jk, who prioritizes another man over him? Why do you want Tae to date JK, who spends couple days with another man and not him? Why do you want Tae to date JK, who enlisted with another man over him? Why do you want Tae to date JK, who told 20 million people he showers with another man? Why do you want Tae to date JK, who went on vacations with another man & created a show together, said he wanted to do the show for 50 years with him, where Tae had no clue & found out through group chat and had to insist on coming himself? Why do you want Tae to date Jk, when he was clearly happy with someone else?

These are valid questions. Nothing here would be considered healthy or romantic. So what do you get out of it then, if TK is real? Wanting to see them date cause they're hot? Popular? or cause you're scared to see your bias with someone else so you say its cosplayers & use JK to feel better? Clearly its not because you think they're in love, because you don't love someone & do 'fanservice' with someone else, shower with someone else & tell the world while throwing it in your partners face or leave someone you love to enlist with someone else, when you had a chance to be together. They can't answer it cause its never been about TK, its about them wanting it for them no matter how toxic it is. What does that cult think is gonna happen? Jk is gonna get out of the shower with Jimin and go get in Tae's shower? What do PJM's think is gonna happen. Jimin is gonna leave Jk's side after 18 months and never speak to him again? What do JJK's think is gonna happen. Jk is gonna drop Jimin and marry them or some woman to fulfill their fantasies? All this crashing out over Jikook since enlistment & discharge & traveling together from all sides, is pure insanity. All while JIkook are living their best lives without a care in the world about your negativity or your tears. This fandom needs a real reality check.

You know what’s funny, anon? Taekookers are losing their minds over Jungkook traveling with Jimin to multiple countries right after his military discharge even though, on the day Jungkook was discharged ,Tae was off hanging out with his Wooga friends. You never see them upset at Tae for not being there with Jungkook, even though you’d think that’s when a boyfriend would be expected to show up. But God forbid Jungkook decides to spend time traveling with someone he’s just spent 18 months with in the military.

The reason Taekookers are so quick to strip Jungkook of his autonomy and paint him as some kind of puppet is because deep down, they know that if Taekook were truly in a relationship, then it’s clearly not an ideal one. So to cope, they convince themselves that everything Jungkook does for, to, or with Jimin is either forced or tied to some contractual obligation. That way, Jungkook isn’t a “bad boyfriend” he’s just doing what he has to do. He’s not choosing to be with Jimin, he’s simply following orders.

They’ll say anything to avoid admitting that Jungkook does these things with Jimin because he wants to. But of course, it wouldn’t make sense to them that Jungkook would rather travel the world with Jimin than spend quality time with a “boyfriend” he barely saw for 18 months so instead, they twist the narrative to fit their fantasy.

Truth is, they want Taekook to be in a romantic relationship so badly that they’ll accept any theory no matter how far-fetched as long as it protects that illusion.

#jikook #Taekook #the cult

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sathereal · 9 hours ago

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WITH OR WITHOUT YOU — S. GOJO

❝ sleight of hand and twist of fate ; on a bed of nails she makes me wait ❞

PAIRING — kingdom au ; peasant!gojo and princess!reader

SERIES SUMMARY — sneaking out was something y/n would never do, not in a million years. she followed the rules without question, always striving to embody the grace and dignity expected of her. raised to serve her kingdom with honor, she never imagined straying from the path laid out for her. that was before she met a charming peasant named satoru. now, y/n finds herself torn between duty and desire, between the life she was born into and the one her heart quietly longs for. to follow the rules would mean security and legacy. to follow satoru would mean freedom and love. for the first time in her life, y/n must choose.

SERIES CW — 18+ mdni, fem!reader, smut (eventual), forbidden romance, emotional repression, hurt/comfort, angst, trauma response, blood/injury, violence, class divide, protective gojo, slightly manipulative behavior, power imbalance, reader has a vagina, longing, identity concealment, arranged marriage themes, war references, emotional vulnerability, corruption, heavy tension. (may update)

chapter one

SUMMARY — the softness of an inexperienced princess and the ruggedness of a runaway warrior collide after y/n is rescued from the chaos of a starving, angry kingdom. in the quiet aftermath, something unfamiliar begins to stir—something that shakes the foundation of who she’s always been. as tension and connection grow between them, y/n finds herself questioning not only the expectations placed upon her, but the very nature of her devotion to them.

WC — 7.5k

authors note — thank you so much for considering reading!!! i haven't written fanfic, or been on tumblr, since 2021 so i apologize if the writing isn't enjoyable/is bad. i have no idea if it's a good idea for my first piece back on here to belong to a series but whatever. i truly hope you enjoy. the smut isn't going to be in this chapter, but it will eventually come up in the series!

masterlist (wip) ; series masterlist (wip)

y/n’s silk slippers, emerald green to match the adornments in her hair, brushed softly against the cool brick of the pathway leading into a garden of blooming morning glories and vibrant spring flowers. the rising sun cast a golden warmth over the garden, coaxing a small but deeply needed smile to her face. spring had finally arrived.

the long-awaited season broke through the cold grip of a bitter winter, a winter that had cloaked her kingdom in despair. the village beyond the castle walls had suffered greatly. death and disease had swept through the land, leaving behind sorrow that clung to every home, every heart. though warmth had always been at y/n’s fingertips, tucked safely away in the castle, her heart ached relentlessly for her people.

"your highness, the queen has requested a change of clothes for you." the faint yet familiar voice called out. y/n turned to see her lady-in-waiting approaching with careful steps. "she said what was picked out for you was too extravagant."

after offering a gentle smile, y/n looked down at her dress. a gown of cream silk, soft to the touch, that shimmered like morning light. layers of sheer fabric floated with the wind, and golden floral embroidery bloomed across the bodice and sleeves as if it had been kissed by the sun. tiny pearls adorned the neckline, and at her waist, a delicate belt of gold thread was fastened with polished emeralds, each one glinting like dewdrops in the early light.

"i dare say mother is right, kasumi," she said softly, fingers grazing the intricate stitching, "yet i am saddened. a bright dress for a bright day... spring is finally blossoming."

y/n stepped closer to her beloved companion, the scent of the garden curling gently between them.

kasumi’s expression shifted. "i wouldn’t quite say a bright day, considering the reasons for the village having an audience with the king."

y/n dropped her head slightly, knowing that kasumi was right. the troubles of last season had stirred deep unrest in the villagers, but she held faith that the king would make a just decision. he had always done right by his people, so why would he stop now?

but more than that, the queen wanted her daughter to be seen. to walk among the people, to smile through sorrow, to remind them that even after such a harsh winter, there was still gentleness, still light. the princess was to be that light, a promise that spring’s grace had returned to them.

the pressure of what y/n was about to endure—the thought of seeing the village’s suffering with her own eyes—wrapped tightly around her chest. the anticipation made her steps slower, heavier. she had seen sorrow from the castle windows, but to walk beside it... to meet the eyes of those who had endured such loss... that was something else entirely.

starting her way back into the castle, y/n gestured for kasumi to take her arm.

“thank you for all you do for me, kasumi,” she said softly, the corners of her mouth lifting with effort. “you’re truly my greatest friend.”

kasumi’s hand slipped into the crook of her arm with ease, her presence steady and grounding.

“and you are stronger than you know,” she replied. “whatever you face today, you won’t be alone.”

they continued their quiet walk, the morning light casting golden patterns across the stone floor, as if the sun itself wished to lend its warmth to the princess’s burden. the distant hum of the awakening castle just beginning to stir. petals danced in the breeze behind them, and for that brief walk, the weight of duty felt just a little lighter.

gojo had started his morning the way he always did. miserable. he hadn’t been in the kingdom long, having made his move there just last summer. the bitter, sorrowful winter that followed didn’t give him much hope for a future in the place, but it was all he had. running from the past didn’t leave many choices. so he kept his head down, swallowed whatever trouble came his way, and did his best to blend in, to survive. maybe one day, eventually, make something of himself here.

but every morning still felt like a weight. cold, uncertain, and heavy with the feeling that he didn’t quite belong. he pulled on his clothes for the day, his bland, poorly stitched linen that hung awkwardly on his frame. the fabric itched slightly at the collar, and the seams threatened to unravel at his elbows, but it did the job. no one in the village cared about appearance. not in times like these.

his job at the most popular tavern in town, kaisen, was modest but honest. he scrubbed dishes, swept floors, and occasionally helped serve customers. it wasn’t much, but it was quiet. safe. and for someone like gojo, quiet and safe was all he could ask for. at least, for now.

on his way to work, gojo noticed something was off.

the town was louder than usual, buzzing with uneasy energy. it wasn’t the usual morning chatter or vendors setting up stalls. no, this was something different. even the weak and ill, who usually stayed tucked away in shadows or doorways, were out in the streets, their voices rising with urgency. it piqued his curiosity.

he slowed his pace, then veered off his path to work, deciding a detour wouldn’t hurt. weaving through the growing crowd, he tried to catch fragments of conversation, eyes scanning the restless faces around him. with every step, the tension thickened.

something wasn’t right.

people jostled for a better view of the road that led to the kingdom gates, and gojo’s gut twisted with unease. he didn’t like crowds, it had too many eyes, too much risk. whatever this was, it was big and maybe, just maybe, worth knowing.

gojo’s shoulders tensed as he pushed past a group of villagers, murmurs slipping through the rising noise like threads waiting to be pulled.

“they said the princess is coming” someone blurted from the crowd.

gojo narrowed his eyes. a princess? out here? it didn’t make sense. royals didn’t walk among commoners, especially not during times like these, when the kingdom was still hurt from winter’s chokehold.

he moved a little closer, staying quiet, blending into the worn faces and layered clothes around him. another voice spoke up, bitter and low.

“hope, they say. like hope is gonna feed our children or fix our homes.”

gojo’s gaze shifted toward the road. he didn’t believe in royals. not their smiles, not their charity. but if one really was coming out here, he wanted to see for himself.

that’s when he saw her.

she moved through the crowd with quiet grace, but what caught gojo off guard wasn’t her face, it was how plain she looked.

too plain for a royal.

she wore a fitted lilac gown, simple in design, nothing crafted to draw the eye or demand attention. a single silver belt cinched her waist, the only ornament on the entire ensemble. her hair was styled simply, too. no elaborate braids or jewels, just a thin silver band that matched the belt and the delicate silver threading of her slippers.

gojo blinked, trying to reconcile the image in front of him.

no guards announcing her presence, just following her every move. no fanfare. no lavish silk or golden embroidery. just a girl who looked more like a ghost of nobility than a princess, and yet, despite the simplicity, there was something about her. something still…untouchable. it brought confusion to gojo. a royal dressed like that, walking among them? he couldn’t make sense of it.

some of the villagers scoffed at the sight of her.

“who are they fooling?” a man muttered, arms crossed, eyes sharp with resentment. “they lived well while we starved and died.”

others nodded in agreement, their faces worn and hollow, unmoved by the softness in y/n’s eyes or the simplicity of her gown. to them, it wasn’t humility. it wasn’t hope. it was a mockery. a silk-wrapped gesture meant to feel human, but it stung instead, like rubbing salt into wounds that hadn’t healed. gojo stood silently among them, the voices rising around him like a tide of quiet anger. he didn’t speak, but he listened. they didn’t see a princess bringing spring. they saw a girl playing dress-up in sorrow she’d never tasted. and yet, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

gojo didn’t move, he just watched her, standing in the thick of the crowd, heart drumming a little faster for reasons he didn’t understand. his jaw tensed as the villagers’ words swirled around him. they were sharp, bitter, deserved. he couldn’t blame them. not after what they’d been through. not after what he had seen.

winter had torn through the village like a curse, ripping families apart, leaving more graves than full bellies. and while the people suffered, the castle remained warm. untouched. distant. he should’ve felt the same anger they did, in a way. so why now—looking at her in that plain lilac gown, with nothing but silence—did something twist in his chest?

maybe it was the way she looked at the crowd. not above them. not through them. she looked at them. not like a royal, but like someone who felt something, but feelings didn’t fix hunger and kindness didn’t bury the dead. gojo let out a slow breath, gaze narrowing.

she doesn’t know this life, he reminded himself. she doesn’t know what it costs to survive. and yet…something about her still made him hesitate.

before gojo could make sense of the feeling pulling at him, the sharp sound of trumpets cut through the air. the crowd stirred, voices dropped and heads turned. the announcement was unmistakable. it was the return of the army.

y/n’s brother, the crown prince, was coming home. and with him, the soldiers who had survived the war against ryomen sukuna, the ruthless leader of the opposing kingdom. the war that had drained the kingdom dry. gojo’s stomach twisted.

it all made sense now. the famine. the shortages. the silence from the palace while villagers buried their loved ones and rationed crusts of bread. everything had been fed to the war effort. every coin, every prayer, every promise, and now the victors were marching home.

the crowd began to shift, pressing toward the road. some craned their necks in search of familiar faces, others stood still, arms crossed, eyes filled with quiet rage. joy wasn’t the emotion that settled in the air, it was weariness, bitterness. gojo didn’t move, not yet. he glanced back at y/n. her posture was graceful, but her eyes, they weren’t celebrating either.

the rumble of hooves followed the trumpets, growing louder with each passing second. armored riders crested the hill in formation, the gleaming silver against the morning light. banners bearing the royal crest fluttered high above them, proud and pristine. but pride was not what filled the street.

gojo could feel it, like a low hum beneath his feet. the crowd wasn’t cheering. there were no songs, no applause. just shuffling feet, tightened jaws, and eyes that had seen too much to forget. he watched a mother clutch her child closer. an old man turned his back entirely. soldiers returned with medals and polished boots, but the people greeted them with silence. this wasn’t a homecoming. this was a reminder, a reminder of the price paid. of the sons and daughters who didn’t come back. of the money funneled into battle while the villagers burned their furniture to stay warm.

he saw y/n again, standing at the edge of the road, her expression unreadable. calm, maybe. or just practiced. she didn’t wave. she didn’t smile. and for a moment, gojo wondered if she felt it too, that tension that sat like a storm cloud between the people and their protectors. he wasn’t sure if it made her foolish or brave, standing out here like this, but she didn’t look away and neither did he.

as the army drew nearer, y/n stepped forward from the crowd, alone, save for a few soldiers who kept a respectful distance. her back straight, hands folded gracefully before her, she looked every bit the image of royal composure. gojo noticed the slight lift of her chin. the way her fingers tensed around the fabric of her gown. a trumpet blared again, louder this time.

“presenting crown prince megumi fushiguro, heir to the throne, commander of the king’s guard, and defender of the realm.”

the name rang through the crowd. megumi.

gojo committed it to memory without thinking. he barely had time to consider it before the first screams pierced the air. not from joy, but grief.

a woman fell to her knees, her hands clutched over her mouth. beside her, a man stood frozen, eyes searching the procession for someone who never returned. gojo saw the realization spread across the crowd like frost: some would not be coming home. it was a quiet devastation, the kind gojo knew too well. the soldiers passed solemnly. faces were unreadable, eyes straight ahead, and then the prince appeared.

megumi rode at the front, sharp, poised, distant. he barely spared his sister a glance. gojo’s brows lowered slightly as he watched the prince ride past y/n, offering her no more than a flick of his gaze. no words. no warmth, just a silent dismissal, but she smiled anyway, just a small one. a respectful dip of her head, an offering of grace where none had been given. gojo couldn’t tell if it was for the people, for herself, or because she cared for her brother. then megumi addressed the crowd.

“to those who have lost family, i offer my deepest condolences,” he said, voice firm, carefully measured. “your loved ones fought bravely. they will be remembered.”

then he moved on. gojo stood still, arms crossed over his chest, something sharp curling in it. he said all the right words, gojo thought bitterly, but not one of them felt real. his eyes flicked back to y/n. she was still standing, still silent, the silver belt catching the light as the wind stirred her gown, and for the first time, he wondered what it cost to be her.

“that’s all you offer us?” the voice rang out, sharp and unafraid.

“after everything we sacrificed for this war?” the crowd rippled. heads turned. the man stepped forward, eyes burning. “your lack of empathy is appalling.”

a murmur grew into something louder, the frustration taking shape, grief turning to rage. more voices joined his, fueled by loss and hopelessness.

megumi didn’t flinch. he remained composed, expression unreadable, gaze fixed ahead as if the cries of the people weren’t meant for him, but the crowd didn’t fall silent. they turned to her.

“you’re well clothed, well fed, while we lay here in this state?”

“you’re all monsters.”

“you don’t deserve the crown. you deserve death, to be with the innocent people who were killed under your hand.”

gojo’s body stiffened. he could feel it, the way the energy shifted, sharp and dangerous, all of it aimed at her and she just stood there.

y/n didn’t cry. she didn’t shrink away. but her eyes, he saw it. the way they glossed, how her chest rose with a quiet, steadying breath. she wasn’t heartless, she wasn’t cold. she was enduring it. feeling it. the people couldn’t see it, blinded by the ache in their own hearts. all they could see was gold-stitched guilt and silver-threaded betrayal, but gojo saw her and for the first time in a long time, he felt something he thought he’d buried. the need to protect someone.

the crowd was moving now, not just yelling—inching closer and y/n, for all her composure, for all her quiet grace, now wore fear across her face like a veil. it was subtle, but unmistakable, her eyes wide, lips parted, body frozen in place. the guards reacted quickly, forming a barrier around her. swords drawn, stances firm but gojo could see the panic behind their discipline. there were too many people, too much grief turned into fire.

megumi was gone. he had slipped into the castle, untouched, unmoved, whether out of ignorance or apathy, gojo didn’t know. maybe he hadn’t expected this. maybe he just didn’t care, but y/n was still here and suddenly, gojo couldn’t stay still anymore. the crowd surged, voices rising, hands reaching. and before he fully realized what he was doing, he was moving with them. not in anger, not in protest, but with purpose. a purpose to protect her.

he pushed past shoulders and outstretched arms. after ducking beneath someone, he reached her. y/n’s eyes locked on his for the briefest second, confused and terrified, but before she could speak, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

“don’t scream,” he muttered.

then he ran. the guards didn’t even have time to stop him. they were locked in with the crowd, trying to hold back the storm. gojo ducked down an alley, moving fast, y/n’s weight light against him as her slippers skidded across stone.

what had he just gotten himself into? his heart thundered in his chest. a runaway, a peasant, now probably facing a jail sentence. but he didn’t stop, not when she was shaking. not when he could still hear the cries of the mob behind them.

they were miles from the kingdom now, hidden deep within the forest, where the air smelled of damp moss and the only sound was the rustling of leaves and their breath still catching up to them. y/n’s body trembled. not from the run, not entirely. the fear still clung to her skin like cold water.

she had known the people were uneasy. she expected grief, sorrow, maybe even coldness. but this? the hatred in their eyes, the accusations spat like venom, she hadn’t been prepared for that and now, she was alone. no guards. no brother. no familiar walls to shield her, just him. the stranger who had pulled her from the crowd like a storm dragging her off course. she sat a few feet away from him now, still catching her breath, gaze flicking to his face—and his eyes.

blue.

not the soft kind, but sharp, almost unnatural. they watched her with an ease that made her wary and yet they drew her in. he grinned suddenly, catching her stare.

“beautiful, aren’t i?” he said with a smirk, not the least bit shy about her lingering gaze.

her cheeks flushed with heat. she turned her face away, biting back a response. not from offense but from something else. something dangerous. she wasn’t used to feeling this.

he was handsome, undeniably so. toned in a way that didn’t make sense for someone who supposedly spent winter starving. his white hair stood out against the forest green, wild but not aged. he looked young, maybe only a few years older than her but something was off. there was a looseness in his posture, a confidence that didn’t match the villagers she’d met. he wasn’t afraid, that made her nervous.

deciding she needed to breathe, y/n lowered herself into the forest floor, the moss cool beneath her palms. her chest rose and fell in heavy, trembling waves, her body still recovering from the sprint and the sheer panic of it all. she could feel his gaze linger, but not unkindly, it was curious and sharp, and she wasn’t sure if that unsettled her more than the crowd had.

“who are you?” she asked finally, not looking at him, but not afraid of the answer either. her voice was quiet but firm. the princess was still in there, somewhere beneath the fear. there was a pause, deliberate. then, from beside her, came a voice far too relaxed for the situation.

“wouldn’t it be more exciting if i kept that to myself?” he said. “names have weight. and i get the sense you don’t give yours freely.”

y/n turned her head just enough to look at him directly. he reclined in the grass like a man without consequence, his arms behind his head, legs crossed loosely at the ankles. everything about him suggested detachment, but his eyes were alert. assessing.

“you brought me into unfamiliar territory without escort or permission,” she said coolly. “i believe i’ve earned at least a name.”

he grinned. “fair enough. it’s satoru.”

she studied him. “is that your given name?”

“it is,” he said, gaze still on the trees above them. “and before you ask, i have no titles, no house. just satoru.”

y/n gave a small, reserved nod. “very well, satoru.”

he turned his head toward her at the way she said his name carefully, almost musically. then, with a smirk, he added, “but if you’d rather call me something sweeter, i won’t complain.”

“i’ll manage,” she replied, lips pressing into a line.

“if you intend to use this situation for leverage,” she added, her voice even, “i warn you that i will not be easily manipulated.”

satoru sat up slightly, leaning forward just enough to catch her gaze.

“what would i even do with a princess?” he asked, his tone quieter now, a little less teasing. “i’m not here to ransom you or threaten you.”

“then why are you here?” she asked, genuine curiosity seeping through her formality.

he shrugged.

“rescuing royalty,” he said, voice low, eyes narrowing with amusement. “it’s a new hobby of mine.”

y/n studied him for a long, quiet moment. he was charming but not careless, not entirely. there was something practiced in the way he deflected, how he kept just enough of himself hidden beneath easy smiles and sharp eyes.

“where are you really from, satoru?”

her tone was polite but expectant. not a demand, not yet. his grin didn’t falter, but his eyes flicked away, just briefly.

“somewhere that doesn’t matter anymore,” he said.

she didn’t believe that but before she could press further, he shifted, resting on one elbow and tilting his head toward her with a casual curiosity that barely masked his deflection.

“then let me ask you something, princess,” he said, voice low. “why were you at war?”

the question hung in the air. it was not a challenge, not quite, but loaded all the same.

she inhaled slowly, trying to quiet the ache in her chest. “to protect the kingdom,” she said carefully. “to stop sukuna from advancing further. we couldn’t afford to lose more than we already had.”

he nodded slightly. not agreeing, nor was he disagreeing.

“and still,” he said, glancing up through the trees, “the streets were lined with hunger. the faces in the crowd, they didn’t look like people who’d been defended.”

y/n’s gaze lowered. “after all the starvation, there weren’t many people left to defend.”

the silence that followed was heavier than before.

“war always takes more than it gives,” satoru murmured. “even when it’s necessary.”

his tone was softer now. not mocking, not cold, almost understanding. y/n turned toward him slightly, studying his profile, how his eyes didn’t quite meet hers now, how something behind his calm seemed distant.

“you’ve seen it, haven’t you?” she asked. “war.”

he didn’t answer and that, somehow, was answer enough.

y/n found herself far more intrigued by the stranger who called himself satoru than she cared to admit. there was something about him. his evasiveness, the casual charm laced with shadow, the way he said everything and nothing at once. she wanted to know more. needed to. there were so many unasked questions, so many possibilities lingering beneath that sly grin.

who was he, really? a mercenary? a runaway soldier? could he have even been a spy for sukuna? the thought sent a chill down her spine. before she could follow it any further, a sharp throb in her ankle pulled her back to the present. her breath hitched. the adrenaline had masked it until now, but the pain was rising steadily. she shifted her weight slightly and winced.

looking down, she noticed a tear near the hem of her gown, the delicate fabric stained with small streaks of crimson. she must have cut herself, perhaps on a branch or a jagged stone during the escape. the gash wasn’t deep, but it was raw and bleeding. her jaw tightened, more from frustration than pain. she hated showing weakness, especially in front of someone she barely knew but satoru was already glancing over, brows lifting with a flicker of concern.

“is everything alright?” satoru’s voice broke the silence, low but laced with concern, maybe. he inched closer, head tilting just slightly as he looked at her more carefully.

y/n immediately shifted, pulling her dress around her and covering the wound with her hand.

“yes,” she said quickly, too quickly. he didn’t believe her for a second.

with an exaggerated sigh, he rolled his eyes and closed the remaining distance between them, his movements unbothered, almost careless, especially for someone addressing royalty.

“you really think i haven’t seen worse?” he muttered, brushing her hand aside.

“excuse me—” she began, eyes narrowing.

“relax, i’m not trying to offend your royal pride,” he said, already kneeling to inspect the cut. “just making sure you’re not dying or anything.”

he scanned the wound with practiced ease. it wasn’t deep, just messy and scraped raw. he let out a silent breath of relief. the last thing he needed was for the princess of shibuya to bleed out in some forgotten part of the forest because of him. he was already in enough trouble for dragging her here without permission. if anyone saw this, it’d look bad. really bad.

"you’ll live,” he said, glancing up at her with a crooked smirk. “but don’t worry, i won’t take credit for the dramatic rescue and your injury. that would be greedy.”

“you left her in that chaos?” the king’s voice thundered through the private chamber, fury rising like a storm behind his eyes as he turned to megumi.

megumi stood rigid, jaw tight. he’d faced war. blood. death. but this—his father’s wrath—was something else entirely.

“i didn’t know it would turn that violent,” megumi said, voice even. “she had guards—”

“guards?” the king snapped, stepping forward. “you think a few swords would be enough to shield her from the rage of a starving kingdom?”

he laughed bitterly, but there was no humor in it—only disbelief. “you knew the state of the people. everyone in this part of the world does. and still, you walked away.”

megumi didn’t respond. he couldn’t.

“she’s never known violence,” the king continued, tone darkening. “never questioned her place, never defied an order. she’s lived her entire life tucked behind these walls, doing what was expected—what we asked of her.”

the king’s gaze bore into his son now, disappointment layered beneath the anger. “and you left her.”

he slammed his fist against the lacquered table, the crack of it echoing off the stone walls.

“this kingdom is barely holding on—once thriving, now on its knees before ryomen sukuna. and now? now we’re fielding marriage offers from lesser bloodlines just to salvage our standing.”

megumi’s fists clenched at his sides. he cursed himself, silently. for being careless. for underestimating the unrest. for leaving her alone, for being so unlike the king he was expected to become.

megumi had always been calculated and precise. it was what earned him command of the army, what made others trust him with strategy and lives. but now, standing under the heat of his father’s fury, he couldn’t help but wonder how hadn’t he seen this coming? or worse, maybe he had seen it and he just didn’t want to.

the truth clawed at the edges of his mind. over a year of bloodshed, march after march, watching comrades fall beside him, torn to pieces in battle. the screams, the silence that followed, the stench of death. it was all carved into him now. a permanent fixture, a sickness he’d stopped trying to cure. he didn’t want to read crowds anymore. didn’t want to anticipate the next riot or feel responsible for every life around him.

he just wanted to be home. in silence, in stillness, but even here, in the place he was raised, there was no comfort waiting for him.

only consequences.

as the tension in the chamber mounted, the doors burst open with a clang of steel. a guard rushed in, his face pale, chest heaving beneath his armor.

“your majesties,” he said, dropping to one knee. “i bring grave news.”

the king turned sharply. the queen, who had only just arrived at the threshold, froze mid-step.

the guard swallowed. “the princess…she’s missing.”

a silence fell so heavy it felt like the room had stopped breathing.

the queen’s expression crumbled, horror overtaking her features. “what?” she gasped, staggering forward. “no—no, that can’t be—how?” her voice broke as her hand flew to her mouth. “were you not with her? how could this have happened under your watch?”

the guard kept his eyes low. “there was unrest among the people. the crowd grew violent. we tried to hold them back, but in the chaos, she vanished. we’ve sent search parties beyond the gates.”

the queen turned to megumi then, her voice rising, desperate. “you were supposed to look after her. you left her out there.”

megumi’s fists clenched at his sides, jaw locked, eyes dark with something unspoken—but he said nothing.

the king didn’t speak either. he stood still, unnervingly so, but panic thundered behind his eyes. his daughter, his symbol of peace was gone. taken or lost, he didn’t know, but his heart sank with paralyzing thoughts of what could be happening to his only daughter.

“we’re making all possible efforts to locate her—” the guard began, voice tense.

“all of your efforts,” the king snarled, cutting him off, “had better bring her back.”

he turned sharply to megumi, his voice dropping into something colder. more final.

“as for you megumi, i want you out there with them. now. i don’t want to see your face in this palace again until your sister is found and returned alive.”

megumi opened his mouth, but the king didn’t wait for a response.

“we’ll be meeting with ryomen sukuna soon after,” he added, spitting the words out like venom before storming from the room, the doors slamming behind him.

the queen stood trembling, her hand pressed to her lips. her eyes shimmered with fear but she said nothing, only stared at the empty space where her husband had been.

megumi stood frozen, his thoughts racing.

why would father mention sukuna now? he wondered. why does y/n need to be here for that meeting?

then the realization hit him—sharp and sickening. a marriage proposal.

one of the offers the king had mentioned earlier. a political move to stabilize their faltering kingdom. a last resort, perhaps. or worse—something already in motion. megumi’s stomach twisted. he had seen what sukuna was capable of. he was more beast than man, a king built on cruelty, conquest, and power. and the thought of his sister standing beside that creature as a bride caused disgust to fill his body.

he clenched his jaw, the rage settling in his chest like fire. he would find her, and he would never let her be bound to a monster.

it had been hours since satoru had pulled her from the chaos. the forest around them had grown quieter, shadows stretching long between the trees, and with every passing moment, y/n’s anxiety deepened. the night would be approaching soon.

they were far from the castle, far from any path she recognized and no one had come for her. part of her was terrified to go back, to face the people, to feel their fury again. but she couldn’t stay out here forever, not in the woods, not as a fugitive from her own kingdom.

a soft rustle caught her attention. satoru had returned to the mossy clearing, his sleeves damp, hands slightly chilled from the spring water he’d used to clean the cut on her leg. he looked oddly thoughtful, gaze distant, as if turning something over in his mind.

maybe rescuing her hadn’t been a mistake. maybe this was the break he’d been waiting for. not a problem, but a chance. something good. maybe, just maybe, the king would reward him for his noble act. stranger things had happened.

her voice broke through his thoughts, soft and sincere.

“thank you, satoru.” she stretched her hand across the moss, fingers brushing the green, plush surface. “you’ve shown me nothing but kindness, even though we were strangers until today. i am truly grateful.”

he turned toward her slowly, catching her eyes. then his lips curled into that familiar, shameless grin.

“is this where i’m granted a soft kiss from the beautiful princess?” he teased, leaning back on his hands with exaggerated ease.

y/n let out a small breath of a laugh, shaking her head as she looked away, half amused, half flustered.

“i said grateful,” she said, voice cool, but her smile betrayed her.

“gratitude comes in many forms,” he said with a wink. “i’m just listing my preferred one.”

y/n’s gaze lingered on his a moment too long.

there was something in his eyes. mischief, yes, but also something gentler beneath it. sincerity, maybe. or simply the ease of someone untouched by court expectations.

her eyes drifted, almost unconsciously, to his lips. they did look soft.

she caught herself and turned away sharply, shaking her head, embarrassed by her own thoughts. what am i doing? she scolded herself. this is not the time.

she was a princess who was hidden away in the woods, having narrowly escaped the fury of her own people. a nation on edge. a brother who’d abandoned her. a father likely enraged. he was a commoner. a stranger. a man who spoke in riddles and smiles, and yet somehow made her feel safer than the guards who’d sworn to protect her.

absurd, she thought. still, her heartbeat refused to steady.

gojo bit back a laugh.

he’d been a womanizer once, without apology. before shibuya, before the war, before he started running. charm was easy. flings even easier. women came and went like passing seasons. beautiful, forgettable.

but none of them had been like her.

no one had ever looked at him the way she just had. not with judgment or fear, but with curiosity. like she was trying to piece him together, even as she tried to convince herself to stay away.

and now she sat here, barefoot and bruised, more royal in rags than any crown had right to be. trembling yet dignified.

dangerous, he thought. because she could be the one thing i don’t walk away from.

“your brother, the prince,” gojo said, shifting his weight as he leaned back against a tree trunk. “what’s his deal?”

his tone was casual, but the question was deliberate. he needed to change the subject, to get his mind off the fact that he was sitting too close to a girl he had no business feeling anything for. especially not this girl.

y/n’s brow twitched ever so slightly. the phrasing alone, what’s his deal, felt irreverent. careless.

she turned her eyes toward him, cool and unimpressed. “how would you feel if you’d just returned from bloodshed?” she asked, her tone sharper than before. “months in the field. death in every direction. carrying home less than half of the men you left with.”

her expression soured as she spoke, but only for a moment. then, as her eyes met his again, she remembered.

he had seen war too. maybe not in royal armor, but she’d seen it in the hollowness behind his grin. in the way he didn’t flinch when danger rose. in the quiet that followed his charm.

gojo didn’t respond right away. he only watched her, the teasing in his face dimming slightly.

“yeah,” he murmured after a beat. “i’d probably shut the world out too.”

and that was exactly what gojo had done. he shut the world out because letting it in only made it harder to survive.

he wasn’t just some drifting villager, not really. he was a warrior, though few would guess it from his lazy grin and half-hearted jokes. he’d lived under another name, one spoken in whispers across bloodied fields.

the honored one.

his skills were unmatched. fast, ruthless, precise. a ghost in battle, a weapon disguised as a man. he didn’t belong to any one kingdom, he just moved from war to war, hired by crowns and councils that didn’t care who he was, only what he could do. he fought for coin, not cause. for survival, not loyalty.

none of those wars had ever been his. but that was what he signed up for, wasn’t it? to be needed, not known. to win, not belong.

now here he was, watching a princess run her fingers through moss and speak with a fire in her chest he hadn’t felt in years. and for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t thinking about the next job.

he was thinking about her and that scared him more than any battlefield ever had.

“i apologize,” the princess said gently, her voice quiet against the rustling trees. “i shouldn’t have said that. i have no idea what you might’ve gone through.”

her eyes held something vast. not just beauty, but depth. grace that hadn’t been trained into her, but born with her. it caught him off guard. how effortlessly kind she was. not just polite, not out of duty. why would a royal, the daughter of a king, apologize to someone like him? to a man she thought was a commoner, a nobody?

she didn’t know the truth. didn’t know the blood on his hands, the names he’d left buried in forgotten battlefields. didn’t know that the people who had once called him the honored one had also feared him and yet, here she was. offering him softness no one had ever spared him.

nothing about y/n was selfish. nothing about her matched the other royals he’d worked for. those who wore crowns but ruled with coldness. no, she was different and that, more than anything, made her dangerous. kindness like hers could make someone like him believe he was worth saving.

“i guess i can forgive you,” gojo said with a smirk, his voice curling into something playful. “even though i never got that kiss.”

his grin was easy, teasing, meant to lighten the mood, to sweep away the weight of everything they weren’t saying. he hated intensity, especially with women. it made things complicated. made him feel too much.

his smile showed a joke, nothing more than a light flight, but his eyes, his mind, wanted more. he felt drawn in. he wanted to feel her soft lips on his. his eyes betrayed him, part of him wasn’t joking. there was something about her that pulled him in. soft, steady, and dangerously quiet. the kind of draw he couldn’t joke his way out of.

he imagined what it might feel like. her lips against his. slow, uncertain, but real. not because of status or gratitude or timing, but because she wanted to be there in that moment.

he let the thought pass, barely, and leaned back again like it hadn’t crossed his mind at all.

y/n wasn’t experienced in romance, not truly.

she had yearned for it once, quietly, in the tender days of her youth—those fleeting moments between duty and obedience, where dreams whispered what it might be like to be seen beyond her title. she remembered a curious prince from years ago, her seventeenth birthday gala, his hand at her waist during a dance, his smile warm, his words flirtatious.

for a moment, she’d believed love might feel like that, but it had passed. and nothing had come of it. still, she remembered how her chest had fluttered. how her heart had ached when he left. and yet, even then, she hadn’t understood it. not the way she felt now.

gojo was nothing like that prince. his gaze didn’t feel practiced or polished—it felt sharp. real. there was a weight in the way he looked at her, like he saw more than a princess in fine slippers and political worth. like he saw a girl with bruised ankles and trembling hands and still thought she was something worth staring at.

y/n didn’t know what to do with that.

she had always done what she was told. silence came naturally. obedience even more so. her place in the world had always been defined for her. here now, sitting beside gojo, tangled in moss and uncertainty, she didn’t feel like a princess. she felt like herself, something she didn't even know existed and she didn’t know if that was terrifying or intoxicating.

the darkness began to settle around them, the sun barely threading its last golden rays through the trees. long shadows stretched across the mossy ground, and the once warm forest now felt a touch colder—more uncertain.

“i think we need to take the risk and go back,” y/n said softly, a hint of unease in her voice. her fingers curled slightly into her skirts.

she’d never been beyond the kingdom walls at night, the dark outside the castle was unknown. it wild, full of sounds she didn’t recognize and dangers she’d only heard in whispers.

gojo glanced at her, then stood, stretching casually before turning to scan the trees with a deliberate ease.

“oh don’t worry, gorgeous,” he said, flashing a grin. “you’ve got me.”

he meant it as a tease, but his eyes were serious as they swept the surrounding woods, alert for anything that moved. despite everything, he wasn’t about to let anything happen to her.

when he sat back down beside her, the air between them shifted again.

a soft floral scent rose from her skin. it was delicate, sweet, and entirely her. it slipped into his lungs and lingered there like a whisper.

a pretty scent and a prettier girl.

he drew in a slow, quiet breath, grounding himself.

he could control himself—he would, but it was getting harder. every moment spent beside her, every glance, every breathe had pulled at something raw inside him.

don’t be reckless, he told himself. not with her.

y/n felt warmth rising in her chest. it was not from fear, but from the man sitting beside her. the creaking of the trees, the rustle of leaves, even the cold night air. they all faded in comparison to the intensity of gojo’s presence. his arm brushed hers slightly, and it was as if the forest disappeared.

“you’re gorgeous yourself, you know,” she said quietly, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.

immediately, her eyes widened.

what are you doing? heat rushed to her cheeks, and she turned her face away in quiet horror.

get it together, she scolded herself, you don’t say things like that. not to him, but next to her, gojo smirked with his gaze still fixed forward.

oh, he’d heard it and he definitely knew he still had it in him. even in simple rags, women adored him.

“oh, am i?” gojo teased, his voice low, the amusement curling at the edges. “then why can’t you look at me right now? it’s as if you’re scared of my face.”

y/n’s breath caught, her chest rising just a little too fast. slowly, almost hesitantly, she turned to face him. moonlight streamed through the trees, casting silver across his features—softening the sharp angles, lighting up the ocean of his eyes.

and god, they were beautiful.

“i don’t think anyone could be scared of your face,” she murmured, the words quiet but steady. “least of all me.”

their eyes locked in the stillness. her fear, his pride, the cold night, the warmth between them, it all hung in the air like something waiting to fall.

without much of a second thought, y/n leaned toward him, drawn in by the quiet intensity behind his eyes, they were hypnotic. glacial and burning all at once. the kind of gaze that made her forget titles, rules, the world entirely.

she wanted to feel his lips on hers. she wanted to lose herself in this handsome stranger who had risked everything for her and in that moment, it didn’t feel reckless, it felt necessary.

gojo knew it was coming, he knew it probably shouldn’t happen. something in him also knew he wasn’t going to stop it.

he moved in too, slow and steady, as if he could meet her halfway without shattering the delicate thread between impulse and restraint. their faces were just inches apart, breath to breath, heartbeat to heartbeat.

“y/n.”

the voice broke through the stillness, dull and distant, but unmistakable. flat, trying too hard to sound calm. as if someone had buried their panic beneath stone. her name hung between the trees, and everything stopped.

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kittyminion · 2 days ago

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done cheater!theodore nott x f!reader

-toxic theodore, no happy ending, characters all 18+, arguing, agression, slight manipulation, mentions of cheating -theodore nott cheats on you after a three year long relationship

It was deathly quiet, just the sound of the clock ticking in your dormitory, your hands tightly squeezing the hem of your shirt as you stared, eyes wide and full of tears, your mouth hanging loosely open as you shook your head.

You could feel your skin heating up, your body buzzing full of emotion as you let out a laugh, tears slipping down your cheeks as you shoved him in the shoulder, "stop fucking around, Theodore. That's—you wouldn't do that, right?"

He said nothing, continuing to watch your reaction, fingers streaming through his hair while you stood up and laughed again, your upcoming sentence bubbling away as you let out a sob, hands covering your face.

"I'm sorry. I was drunk and she was there. Then the next thing I knew, we were naked."

Your sorrow was quick to turn into anger as you spun around and hit him in the chest. Theodore stumbled backwards and let out a sigh as he glanced up at the ceiling, letting your anger scream out in the form of yelling, crying and violence.

When you hit him a bit to hard in the chest he grabbed your hands and spat out, "stop! I told you I was sorry, what else do you want me to do? It was an accident!"

You sneered at him, snatching your hands from his grip, "an accident, Theodore? You've been together for three fucking years, you told me you loved me!"

You grabbed his shoes and threw them at him, ordering him to get out as you sat on your bed and cried, wiping sweat and tears from your face as you shook your head.

Theodore stood there frozen for a while, still trying to assure you it would never happen again while he held his shoes underneath his arm. When he realized you were throughouly done, he slipped his shoes on and came over to you.

His hand slipped up your back as he pressed his lips against your temple, his other hand carressing you jaw, "I still love you."

You scoffed, not bothering to removing his hands, "if you loved me, you would've never cheated on me."

He scoffed and sat next to you, "are we ignoring what you did a few months ago?" You turned to him with furrowed brows, "what did I possibly do, Theodore?"

He pressed his elbows against his knees and stared ahead, "you and Malfoy kissed. I saw it. We were at a party and you were drunk."

You rolled your eyes, "and Draco wasn't. If you weren't there he wouldv'e taken it further."

"That's not really an excuse."

"And yours is? You can't just say it's an accident when you literally knew the girl before you slept with her. You think I didn't see the two of you last week, all close and laughing together? I'm not fucking stupid Theodore!"

He said nothing.

"Exactly, you've been cheating on me for way longer. All those nights you left me alone where did you go?" When you turned to him and stared, expecting an answer, Theodore shook his head silently, running a fustrated hand down his face.

"I did not see her."

"Then who did you see? Who kept you gone for hours at a time? It wasn't Draco or Blaise, not even fucking Pansy smells like that."

He didn't admit it but you knew.

"I've loved you throughout my childhood, Theodore, and this is what you go and do? Did you ever, possibly in a million worlds, even love me back? Or was I just someone you knew you could always come back to?"

Theodore shook his head as he scoffed, "you know you were more than that—you're my best friend, my true love."

"You don't cheat on people you love."

#fanfic #angst #smut #fluff #harry potter #hp fandom #hp fanfic #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x you #toxic relationship #theo nott smut #theo nott imagine #theodore nott smut #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott x reader

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triggswastaken · 3 days ago

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The sandstorm dies the moment you step into the sphinx’s shadow.

It lies coiled among the ruins like a lion that never left, its wings curled like sleeping snakes over its back. Eyes like burnished obsidian peer at you with an ancient boredom, as if you are yet another pebble tossed at eternity.

You tighten your scarf, the last gusts of grit swirling around your boots. You don’t have a sword. Just a backpack, a canteen, and three unfinished theses on evolutionary biology.

The sphinx clears its throat. You half-expect it to demand your soul, your riddle, your worth. Instead, it tilts its head and speaks in a voice like rumbling granite:

“What came first: the chicken or the egg?”

A pause. It expects hesitation. A flicker of fear. Maybe a quip.

You squint up at it. “The egg. It’s the egg.”

The sphinx blinks. Its tail flicks once. “Explain.”

So you sit.

⸻

“I’m not saying a chicken’s egg, mind you,” you start, gesturing with your hands. “Just an egg. The general concept. Like a hard-shelled protein container for genetic lottery tickets.”

The sphinx gives a skeptical rumble, curling one paw beneath itself like a particularly patient cat.

You clear your throat. “Okay. So, descent with modification. You have an organism—say, a proto-bird, like Archaeopteryx or something similar. Over time, because of genetic mutations, reproductive isolation, selection pressures—blah blah blah—it lays an egg that contains a slightly different version of itself.”

You pause. The sphinx is still staring. You can feel it judging your tempo.

“Look, evolution doesn’t draw hard lines, okay? There’s no exact moment when something becomes a chicken. But if you had to pick one, the most scientifically accurate moment is when two not-quite-chickens mated and produced a chicken in an egg. That means the egg—the specific egg that hatched the first true chicken—came before the chicken itself.”

The sphinx narrows its eyes. “Define ‘chicken.’”

You groan.

⸻

You pull out your notebook, sketch a cladogram. “Okay, so genus Gallus. Domesticated as Gallus gallus domesticus. The modern chicken, as we know it, is descended from the red junglefowl, which—look, that’s not the point. The point is—species aren’t clean boxes. They’re more like… fuzzing gradients across generations.”

The sphinx yawns, great fangs flashing in the light.

You press on.

“Think about dogs. There was no first ‘dog.’ Just wolves slowly, gradually, becoming dog-ish. And then, one day, some human looked at a friendly wolf and went, ‘That’s not a wolf anymore, that’s… dog.’ Same with chickens. Just because we name it doesn’t mean nature did. The naming comes after. The egg comes first.”

The sphinx growls. “But the riddle—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know it’s supposed to be a philosophical paradox,” you interrupt, flipping through more notes. “But science doesn’t care about your riddles. It cares about fossil records, genetic drift, and small mutations accumulating over time.”

You find an old chart showing the evolution of egg-laying. “Besides, eggs predate chickens by hundreds of millions of years. Fish laid eggs. Amphibians laid eggs. Dinosaurs laid eggs. Reptiles. Birds. The mechanism of reproduction evolved long before there was even a concept of poultry.”

The sphinx huffs.

You continue, more animated now. “Eggs are just a way of packaging the next generation in a neat, portable sack. It’s efficient. It’s ancient. Chickens just inherited the method. So the egg absolutely came first.”

A long silence stretches between you.

Then: “Are you done?”

You lean back, panting slightly. “…I could show you some diagrams on allele frequency if you want.”

“No.”

The sphinx closes its eyes. Its voice is faint, pained, like you’ve scratched a divine chalkboard.

“…Very well. The egg came first.”

You blink. “Seriously?”

“I said it, didn’t I?” It sounds exhausted.

Then the great beast shifts, wings flexing, and steps aside. A sunlit path opens in the sand behind it. The sphinx mutters something about “the most annoying mortal in five hundred years,” and curls up again.

You sling on your backpack and begin the trek forward, triumphant.

You barely hear it whisper behind you:

“…smartass.”

"What came first, the chicken or the egg?" Asked the sphinx. To which you answer: "The egg. It's the egg." You need to spend an hour explaining descent with modification before it begrudgingly acquiesces.

#this is the most research I’ve ever put into one of these #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers #writing inspiration #writing prompts #writing #writing-prompts #writing prompt

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earlgreyiced · 2 days ago

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DUMB & DUMB

Jungwon x female reader

Your crush has been one sided, but little did you know....

Reminder: engenes is referred as Aenjin in story

Genre: fluff, romance, highschool themed

You have been crushing on this boy in your year for years now. Goes by the name Yang jungwon, jungwon for all and wonnie for his closest friends. You can't remember when did you developed sparks for him but it has always been your source of joy.

You were quite close back in first year of middle school as deskmates, was in the same clique as well. Then, the friendship has been on and off as class system seperates you guys but he still shots a hi with small talks whenever he sees you. He always lends a hand whenever possible and you truly looked up to him.

Jungwon was always the top of the class and a council member. Very diligent, smart and besides, a softie— this doesn't signify him as a weakling, it's one of his strong suit of being able to empathize and be genuine in his acts, he always know what to say and not, what to do and don't. Not like the other immature boys .

Liking him has made you see yourself in another perspective, and it actually made you feel good about yourself. Just like him, you have your own strong points. Just like him, you can improve your grades. Just like him, you can work to achieve your goals.

Just like him

Just him

Like him

I like him

You never hinted that you ever liked him. Well you thought it's unncessary since it's one sided anyways. You thought you won't be bothered considering you can always admire him from afar and continue those little small talks whenever you met him. Exclude the time rumors spread that jungwon was dating another member of the council, you had salt water running from your eyes for weeks.

Well, it's in the past now. Yet your feelings unwavered.

Walking back home from your usual club functions, you saw the familiar figure beside the school gates crouching down. "Jungwon?" You called. The boy didn't respond seeming occupied with something on the ground, as you step closer your heart melted.

Gosh, he is so cute.

Jungwon was focused on a cat, calling it a few times and seemed entertained by it "meow meow".

"Pffftt" you accidentally snickered loud behind him and he immediately stood up surprised.

"Oh my god! Oh it's you Aenjin" with jolted eyes he fixed jacket and act busy. You noticed the awkward neck rubbing and red ear. Woops

"Hey jungwon, sorry to startle you."

"No no no it's alright. Glad it was you or others would be teasing about it." He chuckled. You don't know why it somehow made you happy, he's glad that it was you...

"Uhhm... hey do you wanna walk home together?" Jungwon asked.

You stopped working, what did he just say? home? Together? All those million voices inside your head screaming at each other, heat waves rushing in your whole body, steam bursting out your ears. A "Yeah" slipped from your lips

It was a silent walk, just as you expected. However, felt like torture as fearing that the beats of your heart will be heard. To makes things worse, your bus arrives in another 30 minutes...

"My bus arrives 2 minutes earlier than yours."

"Yep" you pursed your lips.

Second wave of silence. You fidget your hands thinking of anything to clear the air but he beat you to it.

"it's been a long time since we walk home."

"Right, since we have different schedules and stuff." You awkward chuckled and scratched the side of your face with a finger.

Jungwon squinted a little " do you remember back in middle school..."

In such a way, you both started conversing more than usual. Giggles and laughs arised from the cherished memories.

"Hahaha yeah... and i had a crush on you back then."

"Too bad it was back then." You slipped.

"WHAT?" both of you snapped

"Wait what? You had a crush on me back then?"

"Wait what do you mean too bad that it was back then???" Jungwon gasped in disbelief

Both of your heads were spinning from this.

"Wait, I'm sorry can we take a moment?" You blinked hard.

After a sip of water jungwon started "Actually...i had a crush on you back then in middle school. For quite a long time." His words sounded like it's not over.

You looked at him, waiting for a continuation

"And i still do."

You fall silent processing the information you just heard. You furrowed your brows in confusion "so my feelings are not unrequited? So like it's requited? like we like each other back then and like right now?" You rambled innocently

Both of you stared at each other

"Wow... i really didn't know you like me like that." Jungwon's voice small, smile wide.

"Yeah well, I'm good at hiding it. Especially since you dated that council member of yours." You sounded sassy, the thought of him being oblivious to your feelings and the rumours from back then slightly irked you.

"I never dated her! That was just rumours, we were just working together i swear."

"Oh but the rumour said otherwise, heard that you guys hang in the club longer just to date."

"Aenjin you gotta believe meee. You always believed me, come onnn."

"BLABLABLA CAN'T HEAR YOUU." You playfully cover your ears and sticking a tongue out.

This is what your middle school days was like. You felt fresh and young again, stomach flipping like it's the first time again.

"I swear on my dog that i never dated her." He said locking eyes and swiftly wraps your hands in his.

"Alright alright i was just joking." a wave of electricity hits when he touched and jolted your heart to thump even faster.

Jungwon sees your red painted cheeks and still did not let go. He saw your breath hitching, eyes avoiding his gaze, he is doing this on purpose. He is enjoying this reaction of yours

"Jungwon... my hand...wait! OH MY GOD WHAT TIME IS IT."

"Oh don't worry– OH SHIT WE MISSED OUR BUS!!"

"Jungwon...." you gave him a tired look, you guys would always missed the bus too back then each time the talking starts.

"Guess you are stuck with me" jungwon beamed

With the time you guys have, jungwon is certainly forcing you to tell your part of the story🙂‍↔️.

#Spotify #yang jungwon #jungwon #enha #enha x reader #enhypen #enha imagines #enha fluff

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immortalsins · 23 days ago

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there is no way

#just did my thesis viva. supervisor sneakily told me i got a 75 #holy SHIT #i was expecting 50s #thats a solid first class degree in the bag if i dont fail this next exam #what the fuuuuck #i need to calm down and go to the city centre now but #he said if i ever wanted to do a phd. i should get in touch #because he thinks i'll be good at it #😫😫‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺#a lowkey phd offer was not what i expected from this mess of a thesis #but alright !!!!!!!!!#the 75 is not confirmed yet and he wasn't supposed to tell me but idc #that's so solid #and i never in a million years expected it #almost cried #maybe i will later #🥲

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mariacallous · 1 day ago

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The other night, while watching a baseball game, I saw my first ad for self-deportation. One minute Shohei Ohtani was at the plate and then suddenly there was Kristi Noem, the Department of Homeland Security secretary, looking stern and urging immigrants to self-deport using the administration’s new app, CBP Home.

“Do what’s right,” Noem advised. “Leave now.”

The taxpayer-funded ad had started like a campaign commercial, praising President Donald Trump for locking down the southern border. Then it flashed images of rape suspects, alleged gang members, and others arrested by ICE. And then came footage of U.S. deportees sent to El Salvador, stripped to their underwear and forced to kneel before black-clad prison guards in masks. “If you are here illegally, you’re next,” Noem said into the camera. She seemed to imply that anyone who doesn’t use CBP Home will go straight to the Gulag.

“You will never return,” Noem said. “But if you register using our CBP Home app and leave now, you could be allowed to return legally.”

Noem’s carrot-or-stick offer distilled the broader messaging strategy of the mass-deportation campaign at the center of Trump’s second term. The campaign, and its goal of 1 million deportations a year, has been designed to generate fear using harsh enforcement tactics and lurid imagery: military flights to Guantánamo, foreign prison cells packed with face-tattooed inmates, federal agents in battle gear fanning out in U.S. streets like they’re storming Fallujah.

The more the Trump administration can scare immigrants, the more likely they will opt to leave on their own, officials have told me. They view self-deportation as a more humane alternative to ICE handcuffs and believe that its appeal will grow as the crackdown intensifies. But how to encourage self-deporters and keep track of their departures? That’s what CBP Home is for.

The Trump administration has not said how many people have used CBP Home to self-deport. But a senior administration official told me that more than 7,000 people have signed up so far, and of those, more than 3,000 have confirmed departures using the app. Use of the app is growing fast, but that’s still fewer than than the number of people ICE officers arrest over an average three-day period. The administration is trying to scare migrants into leaving while expecting their trust and personal information on the way out.

The Trump administration sees the app as a psychological instrument of its policy goals—which, ironically, is how the Biden administration also used it.

In January 2023, when record numbers of migrants were streaming across the U.S.-Mexico border illegally each month, Biden officials turned to CBP One, a scheduling app that had been set up years earlier by U.S. Customs and Border Protection primarily to facilitate cargo inspections for trucking companies. Biden officials rejiggered it to allow asylum seekers to book an appointment at an official border crossing. Instead of hiring a smuggler to cross illegally, smartphone users could upload their personal information and photo, then await an appointment. CBP offered about 1,500 appointments a day all along the border at a time when illegal crossings were averaging more than 8,000 daily.

Immigrant-advocacy groups denounced the move as a ploy to deny safe refuge to people fleeing for their lives. The app was glitchy and prone to crashing, they said, and it forced applicants to wait months in dangerous Mexican border cities. But CBP One soon began to work as intended. Illegal crossings fell as more people waited for an appointment and the chance to make a legal, safe entry. The app became a key component in the Biden administration’s effort to tame border chaos by expanding opportunities for migrants to enter lawfully while cracking down on illegal entries.

I went to Ciudad Juarez, Mexico, a few months after the app’s debut to see how it was working. Dozens of people with appointments lined up every morning on the bridge to El Paso, Texas, passports and other documents in hand. There were many, many others waiting on the Mexico side for their number to be called. They were anxious and impatient but generally willing to wait if it meant that their families had a better shot at legal status. The app became the primary way for migrants to access the U.S. asylum system and start the process of applying for U.S. protection.

Joe Biden’s critics were not impressed. No administration had ever used executive parole authority—the president’s ability to waive people in without a visa—on such a scale. Republicans denounced CBP One as an “open border” app and “Ticketmaster for illegal immigration.” On the campaign trail, then-candidate Trump called it “the Kamala phone app for smuggling illegals.” Over two years, Biden allowed nearly 1 million migrants to enter the country using CBP One.

Trump froze CBP One entries on his first day in office and canceled the pending appointments of 30,000 migrants who’d finally had their number called. CBP One appeared to be finished. But Stephen Miller, the powerful White House adviser behind Trump’s mass-deportation campaign, had been working on a plan to use the app for a completely different purpose.

Trump officials relaunched CBP One in March, changing its name to CBP Home. Its new purpose is to allow migrants to schedule their own self-deportations. DHS has sweetened the offer with a $1,000 “exit bonus” payment to approved participants, along with subsidized airfare and temporary protection from ICE enforcement. The government says it will even provide free rides to the airport. The app, which is also available in Spanish and Haitian Creole, can be used by any migrant without a criminal record who has been “illegally present” in the United States— “for an hour, a month, or 50 years,” the government says.

ICE’s pitch for CBP Home reads like an HR email to a laid-off employee, gently likening illegal presence to a passing phase in one’s life. “Self-deporting simply means you leave the U.S. before you encounter immigration officials,” the agency says. “Everyone’s process is different. You may want to let your employer, your friends, and your family know you’re leaving. You may also want to help find support for the people you care about, pack up the things you’d like to bring with you, or make living arrangements for the next phase of your journey.”

I recently spoke at length with a senior administration official involved in the relaunch of CBP Home and the self-deportation strategy. Miller came up with the idea of rebranding the much-maligned CBP app, according to the official, who was not authorized to speak on the record. The political symbolism—using the app to subtract immigrants, rather than schedule their entry—was irresistible.

The app is geared especially toward the growing numbers of immigrants who have been living and working legally in the United States with some form of provisional residency that Trump has taken away. They include the 1 million people who used CBP One to enter as “parolees,” along with the more than 500,000 from Cuba, Haiti, Nicaragua, and Venezuela who arrived through a separate Biden program. Trump has told them to leave the United States immediately. Another roughly 1 million immigrants with Temporary Protected Status—from Venezuela, Afghanistan, Honduras, and more than a dozen other nations—are at risk of losing their legal status or already have.

Trump has introduced additional bureaucratic coercions to get more people to leave: $998-a-day fines for migrants who are “illegally present,” and potential criminal penalties for those who fail to provide the government with their personal information and whereabouts through a new “registry.” Fines will be waived for CBP Home users who self-deport, ICE says.

The Department of Homeland Security recently published a promotional video showing happy-looking families boarding a self-deportation flight to Honduras and Colombia after accepting the cash stipends. DHS called it “Project Homecoming”; staffers handed out free toys on the tarmac. One young family got a stuffed elephant and a handful of Colombian flags before climbing the stairs to the plane. A staffer handed a pink teddy bear to a shy little girl who looked no older than 3. No one in the video explains why they chose to leave or even speaks at all.

DHS wants the self-deportation flights to serve as a “visual contrast” to the fearsome videos of the deportations to the Salvadoran prison, the official told me, where “you get loaded off in handcuffs and get a haircut.” The videos promoting self-deportation are part of a $200 million domestic and international DHS ad campaign.

I checked with half a dozen or so immigration attorneys to see if they have clients considering the administration’s offer. No takers yet, they said. “I have a feeling that it will start happening soon,” Jonathan Ryan, an attorney in Texas who represents asylum seekers and refugees, told me. “People are in shock right now, but I suspect the next step will be to start looking at their options.”

Some economists predict that the foreign-born population of the United States could shrink in 2025 for the first time in 50 years as a result of Trump’s crackdown. It’s unclear how many people have voluntarily left the United States without using the app or telling the government.

Biden officials used the CBP app to tap into migrants’ hopes; Trump is banking on their fears. For the app to be a success—and to match the level of usage that Biden officials achieved—the administration is working to make ICE deportations as scary and intimidating as possible.

The administration expects use of CBP Home to grow if it can convince more migrants that it’s only a matter of time before ICE finds them, the senior official told me. “It’s a very dignified way of leaving on your own terms, as opposed to the harsher version of having to be encountered and apprehended by ICE at an unknown time and place,” the official said.

The official told me that the self-deportation plan is easily “scalable” and meant to expand as the pace of ICE arrests and deportations increases. Because parolees had to provide the government with their contact information and other personal data when they entered the country using CBP One, the government has much more ability to reach them and ratchet up the pressure than it has with other migrants who arrived undetected.

DHS is telling migrants that voluntary departure through CBP Home may improve their “future immigration options.” Trump officials have not said what that means. Immigrant advocates say it sounds like a ruse to trick people into thinking they’ll arrive home and be able to apply for a visa to come right back, which is not the case. The DHS official I spoke with said there is no formal mechanism to reward a visa applicant who previously registered a departure through CBP Home, though their decision would be viewed favorably during the review process.

Andrea Flores, a former Biden-administration immigration adviser who is now a policy director at the advocacy group FWD.us, told me DHS’s messaging is “incredibly dishonest.” The agency is employing social media “to misuse images of either compassion or to overuse images of harsh criminality,” Flores said.

“They’re using every single tool that DHS has to expand the sheer number of removals without putting any thought into how people make their choices or the incentives and disincentives they’re creating,” Flores said. “All they’re doing with CBP Home is to push people further away from trusting the government.”

The DHS official I spoke with said the government has no immediate plans to increase the $1,000 exit bonus to entice more people to leave, but the payments could go higher. The average cost to arrest, detain, and deport someone is $17,121, according to the latest DHS figures, and the department said it will save 70 percent of that every time someone uses the app to leave the United States on their own. DHS says it uses a geolocation feature in CBP Home to confirm that someone is at least three miles outside the United States before they’re eligible to receive the payment.

Trump officials have another incentive to promote CBP Home: It allows them to count confirmed departures toward the president’s deportation goal of 1 million people a year. The latest ICE statistics show that the agency has carried out about 125,000 deportations since Trump took office. DHS will need many, many more people to register with the app to hit the president’s target.

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