#c; missed practice

[roan-wayland]

Missed practice

where: Remington Tower who: open, @vievecorcitystarters

The magical combat training room at Remington Tower was a mess. Broken dummies and singed plants lay spread over the floor. It was a miracle that the structural integrity of the room hadn't been compromised. Roan watched the chaos with the look of someone who knows he's going to have to do the cleaning but has yet to find the energy to do that. His raven familiar marched back and forth in the boxing square and poked at the leathery fabric as if it was a carcass. "Oh, don't do that, Pat, you're making it worse," Roan complained.

Steps by the entrance to the training room caught Roan's attention and he happily turned his mind to the distraction. "The class is over, sorry, but I can sign you up for another one. We can tailor it after your experience, and we currently have a self-defense crash course completely free of charge. Anythin' of that sound interesting to you?"

[abdy-18]

Just a random question: [Redacted] had the Twilight eyes from before the war as a result of the parenting his dad used to have on him or is it a look he got once the war took away everything he loved?

At first I interpreted that he got his eyes after seeing the horrors of war, but come to think of it, even when Twilight was a little child he didn't live in complete “peace”, he had to listen to his parents argue quite often and his father was violent with him.

Also, most of the skills that make him a good spy were not learned in any training. He was born that way, naturally very intelligent with great logical thinking and a great ability to perform.It is a pity that his father never realized his talent.

[texanmarcusdavenport]

Idea I've had for a while: Douglas essentially using Marcus as a service dog

[amplexadversary]

what the fuck

Okay so G Gundam, a show that uses a playing card motif for its characters, gets one (1) piece of art in a set of promotional materials with a playing card motif

But fucking Wing, which does not use this motif gets TWO????? How the hell is that fair????

That slot should have been Sai or Chibodee!!!!!!

[sexysilverstrider]

His Gaze | FWS

   His gaze was void of emotion.

   He stared from afar. Stared as the man he called father gave his speech. Words became empty breaths as they parted through pale lips. No emotion gleamed in such a face. Even the calm colour of blue irises dulled immensely under the sun’s brilliant glow.

   He didn’t move a muscle. Not once. Not a step.

   Only the sight of his chest moving calmly was any indication of his living. His breathing just as silent, he watched as the man gave a boastful roar that shattered the audience’s confidence on what they used to believe in.

   Yes. This was for the Pokémon. This was always for the Pokémon.

   Suddenly, he felt a soft touch on his left palm.

   Finally, the man moved. His head lowered; gaze fallen on the Purrloin who purred and nuzzled his warm palm. The Pokémon was quite friendly. Even though they just met, the very fact that the man was able to communicate with him easily earned Purrloin’s trust.

   “Lend me your strength,” the mysterious man requested an hour ago. While the bond they shared was temporary, the Purrloin was more than happy to lend a paw.

   The sight twitched a smile on the man’s face.

   The speech finally ended.

   As he watched his father and fellow grunts walk away from the park, he also observed the people in it. Opinions were heard. Thoughts were scattered. Some agreed with what his father declared. Some already started to bid farewell to the Pokémon who deserved better than mere subjugation.

   Some however were still hesitant, saying that they would never break a bond they had made with their beloved Pokémon.

   Foolish.

   It was what he thought.

   Lips in a straight line, he moved a few steps forward. The crowd started to lessen, but the man kept a distance in order to ease his comfort. It was then that he started hearing the voices of Pokémon as well.

   Some chirped their goodbyes. Some barked their confusion. Some even stayed quiet, unmoving in their Pokéballs as their fellow humans discussed their freedom.

   Selfish.

   It was what he thought—

   ‘I’m never leaving you, Touko! That’s a promise!’

   Eyes widened. Pupils shrunk.

   Such a confession truly caught him off guard. Actual movement was given from the man; head turned left and right to find the source of the voice. It sounded young, yet brimmed with confidence that could rival a fully-evolved Pokémon.

   Finally, he caught sight of two teenagers.

   They were a few steps away. A boy and a girl.

   One boy had his back turned on him. A Snivy was seen clinging to his right leg. While the Grass Snake Pokémon didn’t say a word, he was seen nodding his head in vigor at whatever the other Pokémon was saying.

   The boy and Pokémon were facing a girl. In her arms was an Oshawott, face boasting with pride as he crossed his little arms and cocked his head high.

   ‘This bond we have is special!’ It was the Oshawott’s voice that squeaked. ‘No way some stupid speech about liberation is gonna make me leave my trainer. She’s the best!’ His white little paw pounded on his chest, right at the hard shell that was positioned right in the center. The sight was apparently amusing for the two humans for they started to laugh.

   The particular girl laughed the loudest. Left arm cradling the Oshawott’s bottom, she had her right hand scratching the Sea Otter Pokémon’s cheek. The action only made the Pokémon smile wider, voices now bursting with coos and squeaks of affection. Unable to handle how adorable the Pokémon was, the girl brought it closer to her face and snuggle him.

   The laughter rang louder.

   He looked at her, pupils dilated slightly at the female trainer. Her hair was a long brown and was tied to a high ponytail. Her arms looked slim, yet he could guess her strength based on how long she had carried the water Pokémon. Even with a hat on her head and the long brown bangs on the sides of her face, he was able to see her.

   A silent gasp escaped him.

   Her smile was bright. So bright. White teeth flashed in his gaze, brilliantly blinding him until he could see nothing else but her. The sound of her laugh was sanguine. Despite the gloomy aura the speech had given to some, it seemed that it didn’t bother her the least. Even though the girl couldn’t understand what the Pokémon in her arms had just said, amazement held him still to see such confidence, knowing that their friendship wouldn’t dissolve so easily.

   “You’re so cute!”

   He heard her speak.

   “I’m never leaving you, buddy. You’re family to me now!”

   Mouth parted. Chest ached.

   Ba-dump!

   He didn’t know when. He didn’t know how. But as his gaze fell on her, he felt his feet move forward.

   Towards them. Towards her.

   As he approached, he watched as the two Pokémon sensed his arrival first. Immediately, the two were on guard; the Snivy stood before the spectacled boy and the Oshawott assumed a jumping position out of the girl’s embrace.

   The man stopped just a step away.

   The two trainers turned to meet his intimidating height. Confusion hovered above their heads with wary eyes gleaming under the sunlight.

   “Can we help you?” the girl asked, voice now cold and absent of the joy that burst a few minutes ago.

   The man wanted to hear her laugh again; he didn’t know why.

   Blue eyes looked at the Oshawott in her arms, then at her.

  “Your Pokémon,” he broke the heavy silence, voice low and husky, “he just spoke. He said that that you two have a special bond.”

  Confusion merely intensified on the two trainers’ faces while shock flashed in the Pokémon’s eyes.

   Without waiting for a reply, he continued, “I am N.”

   That was all he said. And as he did, blue eyes still remained on the girl.

   “I…see.” The other boy spoke. “I’m Cheren. And this is my friend, Touko.” One hand adjusting his glasses, Cheren waved one hand to the girl beside him.

   Words were never exchanged.

   Feeling awkward at the exchange, the girl—Touko—decided to say something. “So…what did you just say again?” Curious and wary at the odd man, Touko raised a single eyebrow. “About Isaac saying something?” Of course, she couldn’t believe that the man before them understood Pokémon. She figured he was just a strange person looking for a conversation starter.

   But after a few heartbeats of not replying anything, Touko assumed that wasn’t the case.

   “Battle me.”

   Instead, stupor slapped her silly at the request. “I—what?”

   Again, the man frustratingly didn’t repeat his words. However, he did repeat it with actions as he pointed directly at her. In a silent signal, the Purrloin that watched the whole ordeal from afar scurried forward, then readied himself in a battling position right between his new friend and the female trainer.

   Confusion only thickened between the two trainers.

   That confusion lasted a few seconds however as the Oshawott—Isaac—finally hopped out of Touko’s arms and assumed an attack position as well. ‘You’re on,’ he chirped, paw holding his shell and flashing a cocky grin at his opponent.

   Taking her starter’s stance as accepting the battle, Touko let out a sigh. “Okay then.” Shrugging once, she fixed her cap and tilted her head in pride.

   To see both human and Pokémon mimic each other so well, N felt his breath hitch.

   The corners of his mouth never moved, but lips did purse to see such a sight.

   With a single slight of his hand, the battle began.

   His gaze was full of her.

END

[talkorsomething]

Trying 2 be the best this week &just got into bed NO stretch NO dance. Well there is always tomorrow

[becauseplot]

Touching Base

Just a little Roommates/Cellmates AU oneshot because they live in my head like how Cell lives in Felps' apartment: rent-free. (Also because I am procrastinating on bigger projects rn.) (What who said that.)

Takes place a couple years after the events of Miss Me? and Shared Living Space. Cell has officially started going by Cellbit, a relatively recent development. He still sleeps on the couch, but that's mainly because the second "bedroom" in the apartment is used for Felps' storage and both of them dread having to clear it out. He has a job and puts most of that money towards groceries, new clothes, and therapy. Felps---finally working at a station where his superiors don't hate his guts---covers pretty much everything else.

(TWs: discussions of killing/murder, light allusions to suicide in a joking manner (they're fine, someone's just being dramatic). they are having a conversation that is oh so very normal for two friends to have yesyes. tbh this was supposed to be way more light hearted but then the angst. the angst...)

Key ring dangling from his finger, Cellbit shoulders his way through the apartment door, juggling a box of redstone bulbs, a stack of spam mail, and the library book that doesn’t quite fit in his over-full messenger bag. “Felps?”

There's no verbal answer, but over the back of the couch, Cellbit sees a tired hand rise and wave. There’s a dull whump when it drops back down.

Cellbit, taking this and the fact that the TV isn't even on, raises an eyebrow. "Long day?" There's a muffled groan in response, and that's all Cellbit needs to hear to get the gist of it. He wiggles his keychain off his finger and into the dish before shutting the door behind him with his foot and heading to the table, where he dumps off his things. Hands free, he slips his bag off his shoulder and sits down to take off his work boots. Once he's got them off, he takes a moment to slump back in the chair, relief washing over his aching back and shoulder, before he picks himself up and heads over to see what the situation is.

The situation, it seems, is as follows: Felps is lying on his back on the couch, still wearing his uniform, with a pillow pressed into his face like he's trying very, very hard to smother himself with it.

Cellbit sits himself down on the floor with his side against the foot of the couch, right by Felps. He plants an elbow on the cushions and drops his chin into the heel of his hand. "So. Who do I need to kill?"

Felps groans again and shifts the pillow off his face just enough to free his mouth. "Me. Kill me, please. Kill me. Literally just kill me."

"Ehhh," Cellbit says. "You know, I did that once, and you didn't like me very much after that."

"Cellbit I am begging you. You'd be doing me a favor."

"Mm, no. I don't think so." He pokes one of the fingers Felps has dug into the cushion. "Now come on—a name, an address. Give me something to work with here, Felps."

Felps sighs and finally yanks the pillow off his face, flipping his hands around and throwing it into his lap. His hair is a complete, frazzled mess, though Cellbit supposes that's the least of his worries. "No one's getting killed. This isn't a problem you can fix by killing someone."

"Except for you?"

"Except for me."

"Okay. So what happened?"

Felps makes a pained noise and digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. At least he's not suffocating this time. "Davi," he mumbles.

Cellbit blinks. Usually, he has a hard time keeping all of the names of Felps' coworkers, friends, and acquaintances straight in his head since there's so many of them, but this one registers immediately. He takes this in, looks at Felps agonizing on the couch, thinks back onto what Felps told him the other day, does some rapid mental math, and comes to the conclusion that maybe the situation actually could be fixed by killing someone. Potentially.

But before that thought can properly start, Felps flicks him against the temple. "Hey, no plotting. I'm serious."

"Plotting?" Cellbit echoes, oh-so-perplexed. "I wasn't plotting. Who said anything about plotting?"

"Cellbit."

"Who said anything about plotting the murder of the hot guy at the train station who rejected your friend after he spent two weeks working up the courage to ask him out? I sure didn't."

"Cellbit," Felps says, insistent. Cellbit stops, but only because Felps wants him to, and only because he’s joking. Really. "It's fine. It's my fault anyway. I totally fucked it up. I got the timing all wrong, and—" Felps breaks off into another horrified sound, dragging his hands down his face. "God, it was so bad. I don't want to talk about it."

"Alright. Anything I can do? That doesn't involve killing you?"

Felps pauses. He peeks at Cellbit from behind his hands. "...Grab the remote for me?"

Cellbit snorts. "Sure." He gets up (swallows a grunt; fuck, his shoulder's being funny) and grabs the remote off the TV stand. When he comes back, Felps has managed to get his-wallowing-self into an upright position so Cellbit can collapse back into the sofa beside him.

Cellbit clicks on the TV. "What're we feeling?"

"Pain."

"I mean what do you feel like watching, dumbass."

"Literally anything," Felps says with a wave of his hand.

"Right… So if I put on Blood on the Taiga—"

"Parkour tag."

"Okay, parkour tag it is."

They start to chat a little as Cellbit flicks through the minigame channels, looking for one that's broadcasting parkour tag: ("How was work at the station?" "Were the docks busy today?" "Did that warrant finally get processed?" "Is your shoulder still bothering you?" "You should probably change out of your uniform." "You should probably take a shower." "In a bit, my back has to unbreak itself first.")

It doesn't take him long to find a channel, so they end up talking through part of the first round, swapping the work updates they usually provide each other. After that, they settle in, feet up on the coffee table, shoulders pressed together. Cellbit watches the teams trade off "runners" and "hunters." Felps usually roots for the team in the blue and green jerseys, but it doesn't seem like they're playing today. Still, these teams aren't half-bad. The tall one on the red-orange team is a good hunter, Cellbit idly notes. She's light on her feet.

It's at the start of the third round that Felps speaks up again.

"So. Hypothetical question for you."

Cellbit watches the good-hunter spring off a piston-platform. "Alright."

"And this is completely hypothetical. One hundred percent, utterly hypothetical."

"Okay."

"I'd never genuinely ask this of you."

"Sure."

The good-hunter drops down a ladder, missing a tag on a runner by a hair's breadth. The squeak of her sneakers echoes through the arena.

"...If I told you I needed you to kill someone for me, would you actually do it?"

Cellbit tilts his head. The good-hunter whirls around a corner and swings herself up onto another platform. "Yeah."

He feels more than sees Felps startle beside him. "...R...Really?"

"Yeah."

"Just like that?"

"Well, like I said earlier, I'd need, like, a name. An address if you can get it. At least a general location—"

"No, no, I mean..."

Felps falters, and Cellbit takes his eyes away from the game to look up at him. Felps is staring right back, a furrow in his brow.

"...You wouldn't even question it? Or hesitate?"

Ohhh. Cellbit understands now. The morals. He was asking about the morals. "Well," starts Cellbit. He pauses. Then, he drags his feet over to the edge of the couch, legs curled up, in front of his chest. The position makes his back ache, but the rest of him feels better this way. He hangs his arms over his knees. He stares at the TV, but he's not really sure who's hunting and who's running anymore.

He sighs. "...The way I see it—you would never ask me to kill someone unless they actually deserved it. I think it would take a lot for you to decide someone needs to die, then a lot more to tell me to kill them because...you know me. I'll get it done. And I won't half-ass it either."

And if they hurt you, Cellbit thinks, with a sudden, rising fury, I'll kill them dead. I'll make it hurt. Carve their throat out with my teeth. They'll be begging for the Void long before I'm through with them.

But he lets that one go on an exhale, lets it pass wordlessly between his lips, before it can get too far. He flexes his hands, loosening them. "But..." he continues, scraping together the courage to say the rest. "You also know I'm trying not to— You know I'm better about that now. Past it. Moving past it. And you're—" He falters. His tongue darts over his lip. He bites it. "You're generally helpful in that regard, so..."

"...You don't think I'd ask you to do something that would ruin your progress unless it was serious," Felps finishes.

"Yeah." Cellbit tilts his head to either side, cracking his neck, and flexes his hands again. God, his therapist would be so fucking proud of him.

"Okay." Felps clears his throat. "Sorry if that made you uncomfortable, I just—the thought wouldn't leave me alone, and..."

"No, no, it's—it's fine. It's a good question to ask. Making sure we're on the same page, and all that. Touching base. Getting caught up. Just like we always do."

"Right," Felps says. "Just like we always do."

A beat.

"But I wouldn't. Ask that of you, I mean. I'd never ask you to kill someone for me."

"I know," Cellbit replies easily. "I heard you the first time."

(And Cellbit trusts Felps to stick to his word. Honestly, he does. But the issue—or perhaps the best part, depending on how much he wants to disappoint his therapist—is that Felps wouldn't even have to ask. In no universe would Felps ever have to ask.)

"...Oh. Okay."

"Okay."

The conversation hangs in the air, gradually dissipating. Slowly, Cellbit manages to recenter his attention on the game of parkour tag. Round four. She's hunting again, though this is her last hunting round. After that, she'll be stuck as a runner for the rest of the tournament. Felps rests his head on Cellbit's shoulder as the alarm blares and the competitors are released from their chambers. Cellbit nestles his cheek in Felps' curls. The final hunt has begun.

[harakanvarpu]

I'M SO FUCKING SAD

Cohost was going to be the site that I would use for posting after all the AI shit with insta and tumblr, and twitter being musky as hell.

But now it's being shut down. My cosy, silly, lovely cohost, that made me feel like home, like the old tumblr.

No-one sees my posts on tumblr, and I feel unsafe posting here because of fuckjourney (m|dj0urn€y), and I have been fantasizing of deleting my instagram account since the app makes me anxious and sad.

But where do I go now? There's nowhere to go. The cosy little site I thought was going to be my haven is being run down because of lack of funds...

[arabella-s-arts]

I just think shows like Grey's Anatomy, where a lot of their drama comes from sex and romance, are missing the comedic potential of including an aroace character. Just imagine after seasons of characters being constantly horny, there's a character who's just like "no thanks."

I could see this going two ways. A one-episode character, whose probably a patient and happens to mention they're aroace, causing the doctors incredible confusion, and knowing them, they're probably going to ask invasive questions or talk behind the aroace character's back before learning to accept them. I feel like Meridith or Cristina would think they were lucky. Alex or Mark would be the one asking invasive questions. Izzy would probably think they're sad. But I just want the doctors' assumptions and thoughts about sex/romance to be challenged.

The second way I could see this going is a reoccuring character who is used to contrast the rest of the cast. One version of this is that this character is in the closet, and becomes friends with the main characters. So the main characters would ask questions about their sex/love life, and the aroace character would be like, "Yes, I've had all the sex, lots and lots of the sex." And try to get away as quickly as possible. Another version would be if they were open about it, and they'd see the messes the main characters sex/love lives would be, and are like "Thank god I'm immune."

[vvitchynerd]

👁️👄👁️

[unproduciblesmackdown]

being alive at the time i gleaned some general elements abt encanto but never actually heard we don't talk about bruno beyond awareness it existed popping off & i think i heard like the title recited off key off rhythm but in a way that indicates speak singing nonetheless lol so upon experiencing it it's like oh but it's the Verses? while the last refrain goes harder but prior to that it's comparatively underwhelming to said verses which feels appropriate like verses / pieces of a larger picture & that a "we don't talk about him" as a disappointing Lid on infinitely richer more characterful & dynamic "but: talking about him" instances. like well personally it'd be like um seven foot frame....anyway besides being able to firsthand go like oh damn Real (the kind of thing you know exists if alive at the time) it's like alright hang on lol. one thing when a core theme is yeah like "is it a refuge if 'especial' vulnerability ultimately gets pushed out rather than made safer" subset like the parties whose even observation of truths (problems) & drawing attention to them is seen as Ruining Things, like if you're painted as Making futures that aren't simply what's desired or reassuring rather than a guidance via just observing & sharing the truth. but then it's like whaddaya mean living in fear of bruno stuttering and stumbling you could always hear him sort of muttering and mumbling lmao like now that's just Association between the Truth Perceiving & Telling behavior & behavior that's just apparently distinctive of the same person. & like Not Accidentally when [what if people were magic] specifics are obviously primarily abt a metaphorical meaning & like, indeed it was made clear like oh this situation isn't Just b/c [boo we hate your prophecies] & that [an Ability that isn't directed towards what anyone Wants / is "weird" even by these magic standards] isn't Coincidentally given to someone who just so happens to already be "weird" in other ways & be set up to have a different perspective & be pushed away due to having the supposed "extra" vulnerability of unmet needs / insufficient support, same as someone who doesn't "correctly" have any kind of magic ability....like yeah banger and also like Oh Yeah Kind Of Devastating re: that metaphorical resonance allowing for like [set the metaphor aside] now hang on with this about this disabled family member lol. misinterpretation to The Ruinerrr / The Problemmm / The Maliciousss etc (i.e. the scapegoatinggg) despite their efforts likely entirely to the contrary. then despite like, efforts aside, Just Existing, always kind of muttering & mumbling like & what of it. & then like oh sorry weird pets. weird [auspicious for adaptable tenacious thriving surviving; either way simply creatures, existing] pets.

truly like As Is The Idea I'm Sure quickly becomes like hands behind back standing at the window Uh Oh Sisters musing on all the [disabled person] metaphorical & already literal elements there. blair witching it in contemplation like We've All Been There whether being so resented for the mere disruption of "existing in a group as the 'abnormal' odd one out" or like people talking shit abt anything associated w/you as soon as you've left the room, which is also made relevant like, this wasn't Only directed at this person when seemingly permanently gone, nor were they unaware / unaffected prior....pacing in the Musing parlor like things don't Have to be compared to billions but i only ever even see so many things & it's like billions sure is like "get scapegoated rword" & then said scapegoating is presented as only beneficial & we hate autists & even beyond that it's like, grabbing billions, Imagine If Things Meant To Be About Something Were About Something. quite a contrast when they are & furthermore like, deliberate thought & Care for [who gets scapegoated & why] & the truth of like, people getting pushed aside & out who have a key perspective & are primed / liable to come through for others similarly vulnerable & the supposedly Ruinous, Problems Generating disruptiveness is actually the strongest effort to make essential changes to a group. & come through with like, it'd be undermining thee point if it was "reassuring" us like oh haha people will be supportive b/c bruno will be more normal, so great that it Didn't like no, no Normality Reassurance(tm), presence of abnormalities(tm), Good, & everyone Can Deal b/c if you don't then it's pushing this person away, is exactly what happens, including even if they're still Around but are being mistreated b/c that is entirely part of that pushing away like anyone's victim blaming is ready to pounce at any time but if someone can't stand to stay / leaves b/c they can't see another option like that's not out of nowhere nor Regardless of what full support & flexibility they were getting lol. these Active Measures everyone loves so much, which are everywhere always & would include Staying & Trying To Make It Work & those efforts would be "disruptive" & resented & Bringing It On Oneself & etccc smh

that is to all say like. Woww when clearly basically the core thread was these beats of like, the crucial site of [thee scapegoated], & why that comes down on someone & how that plays out. endless ideas about how someone weird(tm) & disabled (&/or queer. but there's no Or here lol. & again like it's a Context like, to even be the one person without kids? likely not living up to "full" correct sexuality in that way alone; any oppression's logics of "inferiority" being logics of ableism, ready examples being that "inferior" race, gender, sexuality (& their experiences as people classed as inferior) all being pathologized as disordered) are seen & treated as someone Ruining Things & who cannot belong like whew. bracing. winding. which, i also recall like i was watching with headphones & during this one dialogue pause i was like "?? what's this Extra Sound i heard there" & had to go over it like twice before being hit upside the head like well it Was still the dialogue pause but it was also bruno Stuttering in a very quiet whisper for the duration of that pause before continuing like iiiiiiii x_x

[transfemgorgug]

coming down with a cold. mother FUCK

[stephicness]

Oh hey! Guess who finally got around to putting their commission info together again! Just in time too, because guess who's moving and may need a little bit of gas money for the trip ahead? Meeee! I'd love to draw all the characters for you -- whether it be an OC, a DND character token, or a favorite anime character that needs a little bit more love. So don't hesitate to shoot me a message if you're interested! :)

[bloodwiine]

closed starter for @faiirytalesx ( dorian ) location: the beach

"Hmm, yeah," Essie hummed as the other applied a thick of layer of sunscreen to their back, closing their eyes, relaxing to the massage. It was exactly what they'd needed post full-moon, not a session with the band. She was exhausted. "That's just the spot, you might even need to apply a second layer," she insisted, opening her eyes briefly to take a sip of her drink and just barely making out the sound of footsteps approaching. But with it being the beach, she chose to ignore it.

[conivolos]

does anyone wanna do my exam studying for me. looking at you with big eyes

[nanamisgirly]

you're bit too possessive toward your nerdྀི

the moment you spot them through the glass wall of the library study room, something primal inside you snaps.

your nerd. your sweet, tall, stuttering nerd.

and some other girl leaning all over him. all giggles and twirls of her stupid hair, looking up at him like he hung the stars. you can practically see the way her fingers brush “innocently” against his forearm. and gojo—this sweet, beautiful idiot gojo. he's just smiling, shyly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, completely, utterly oblivious of the advances the girl is making.

you see red. not the cute, flirty kind of jealous. no. 

you see murder.

by the time you stomp into the study room, he lights up the second he sees you—like a golden retriever seeing its favorite person. “babyy!” he blurts, half-standing so fast he nearly knocks over the chair. his knees bang the table. his pen scatter. he's flushed pink already, hands fidgeting with the hem of his stupid neat sweater, beaming at you like you're the sun itself.

meanwhile, the girl beside him falters, confused as hell when you swoop in, grab a fistful of his collar and yank him down into a messy kiss—a possessive and mean one, kissing him like you're marking him, like you're making a fucking declaration.

gojo gasps against your mouth, stunned, but immediately melts, tilting his head to give you more. he kisses back with desperate little noises, afraid if he doesn't, you'll change your mind and leave. when you pull back, he's breathless, blinking at you all dazed and drunk, glasses slipping halway down his nose. “i missed you…” he whispers.

you don't answer him, to focusing on the other girl. staring straight at her awkward form peeking up her books, face pale. you tilt your head and smile—sharp, unfriendly, a predator showing teeth. she scurries away without a word.

gojo blinks between you and the empty chair, confusion pinching his brows. “she…left? we didn't end the explanations—”

you grab his jaw in one hand, squeezing his cheeks until his lips squish pouty. “you,” you hiss, leaning so close your breath fans his pink ears, “are so fucking stupid, satoru.” his wide, panicked eyes blink down at you. “i-i am?” he stutters, looking on the verge of tears just because you're mad at him. “i-i didn't even—i mean…i was j-just doing the private lesson…i-i told you about it!” he babbles, desperate. not understanding a thing.

you shake his head a little by the jaw, making his glasses slip down worse. “yeah, yeah. i agreed on a private lesson." you snarl, voice dripping poison-sweet. "not private fucking sex.” you yank his wrist, dragging him out of the little study room, ignoring the curious heads turning to you. 

satoru stumbles after you, tripping over his own feet—over himself just to keep up. “y-you're mad,” he whines, almost breathless, cheeks burning red. “w-what did i…i didn't—”

his voice gets smaller when you spin around, shoving him back hard against the nearest wall. his back thuds against the cold surface, and he freezes up, chest heaving. “you really don't get it, huh?” 

that dumb, pretty face of his—lips pink from your previous kiss and from him nervously chewing them, his glasses crooked, his hair all messed up—god, you could eat him alive. “you let that clingy bitch touch you like that?” you spit. “smile at her like that? let her giggle and bat her lashes like you didn't already have someone who should be the only thing you look at??”

satoru is practically vibrating in place, like a kicked puppy. his Adam's apple bobs hard when he swallows. “i-i didn't notice!” he chokes out. “i swear, angel, i didn't! i-i didn't even l-look at her. .” your nails scrape up his chest through his hoodie, making him whimper. “you're mine, aren't you, 'toru?” he nods so fast you think he might give himself whiplash. “y-yes!! yours! of c-course, only yours!”

your hand snakes lower, palming the half-chub tenting his sweats. poor thing :( so quick to get hard just from yelling at him. “you're lucky you're cute,” you snap, but your heart is hammering at how real the panic was in his voice. 

you squeeze him through the fabric. his hips jolt into your hand with a pathetic little gasp. you watch his pretty white lashes flutter, poor boy was genuinely confused why you're so pissed—poor sweet nerd who only ever wanted you :((

you click your tongue. “my pretty nerd,” you mock sweetly, squeezing his cock harder through his pants, making his knees buckle. “getting hard just ‘cause i’m scolding you? bet you'd cum just from me slapping your face.” 

“i-i could! i would, i-if that's what y-you—ah!—want,” his mouth works uselessly searching for words, his brain short-circuiting because your hand's still lazily stroking him through his sweats. you lean up, biting his jaw hard enough to make him whines. 

"you’re gonna make it up to me," you murmur against his skin, voice syrupy sweet. "gonna let me use you however I want. gonna be a good boy for me, huh, satoru?" he was towering over you but he was so, so submissive.

he nods so fast again his glasses damn near fall off. "a-anything," he breathes. "please. please let me—lemme be good—i'll be so good, promise!"