#domino trigger effect

[distinctlywhumpthing]

Fresh Start

cw: panic attack, obsessive/compulsive behaviors. leo's usual dubious/clueless caretaker vibes. tiny mention of aiden's self-destructive behaviors. shaky trust being tested, my beloved.

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Movement sends pain radiating through Leo’s back and shoulder. His memory connects the discomfort to the hospital recliner and he bolts upright. 

But they’re home. Safe. 

He’s just paying the price for deciding to sleep on the floor outside Aiden’s room after a bought of anxiety convinced him he wouldn’t be able to hear if Aiden needed him. He—

Aiden’s bed is empty. 

His mind races through worst-case scenarios, heart tripping along to keep pace but as soon as he fully turns around, Aiden is right there. Curled up on the hardwood, no pillow or blanket, just shy of reaching the doorway. Fallen out of bed? Collapsed? Had Leo slept through him needing help after all? He reaches for his shoulder. What if— 

“Aiden? Aiden?” 

The kid startles awake, a small gasp escaping his lips as he clumsily but quickly straightens to kneel. Dark eyes wide even as he blinks away sleep. He crosses his arms, hand cradled carefully in the center of his chest. 

“What happened? Why were you on the floor?” 

“I—I—mmm…mmm…” He shakes his head and lowers his gaze. Not a good sign. “Mmm’sorry—I’m’sorry—” 

 “Are the stitches okay? Is there blood on the bandages? Are you in any pain?” Leo reaches for him and Aiden flinches back, hard. Now he’s certain something is wrong. 

“Mmm’good,” Aiden says, voice wavering. He still won’t make eye contact and he’s slowly, almost imperceptibly inching away from Leo. 

“Did something happen? We’ll call Delia if we need to. I just have to see that you’re okay.” He reaches for him and again Aiden cowers back. He hits the futon frame and whimpers. 

The sound strikes another cord of fear in Leo, doubling his panic. “You’re not in trouble but if the stitches tore or you’re in pain, I need to know.” 

Aiden swallows. “I—I—mmm…mmm…” 

Leo strains to hear him at all and considers just grabbing him. He has to see— 

“I—I—” Aiden shakes his head, gaze still lowered. His hands tremble as he lifts his arms, turning them toward Leo. 

It’s the most anguished surrender he’s ever seen.  

“Hey, woah. Look at me, it’s okay.” 

Aiden lifts his chin. For a split second, his expression looks incredulous before its replaced by a more familiar one of distrust and fear. 

But it was enough. 

The kid’s not even breathing, eyes filmed with tears as he obediently holds Leo’s gaze. 

You’re scaring the shit out of him.

Leo pushes himself back quicker than necessary, earning another flinch from Aiden who crosses his arms back over his chest protectively, curling against the bed frame. Leo moves to sit in the doorway, heart still pumping adrenaline through his veins, and tries to focus on his breath. 

Aiden watches him with open wariness. As defensive as day one. 

This is supposed to be a fresh start, their second chance. In the six weeks since finding Aiden in the snow, Leo succeeded in isolating him and not much else. And here he is, only driving that wedge deeper. He’s supposed to be better equipped now that he’s not completely ignorant but it doesn’t seem to make a goddamn lick of difference. Leo should have admitted months ago that he wasn’t right for this but his selfish denial carried them way past the point of return.

Too little too late isn’t going to cut it anymore. The kid deserves more. Someone who’s going to fucking listen to him. Someone he can trust and rely on. He’s going to need so much support. He can’t shower without wrapping his arms and hand, which he can’t do himself. He’ll need help changing the bandages. Not to mention the antibiotics. He probably never slept well to begin with, if last night is any indication. He barely eats. He was hurting himself all along right under Leo’s nose. He fucking tried to—

Aiden sounds like he’s trying to breathe through a straw, inhales shorter and shorter. Leo looks over to find Aiden already watching him, brow furrowed. 

When Aiden tilts his head, Leo realizes it’s him. 

He’s the one gasping like all the oxygen has been sucked from the room. 

Great.

“I’m sorry,” he forces out, but it’s barely audible. “I just—I need—” 

He stumbles down the hall, sparing both of them from a backward glance, and shuts himself in the bathroom. 

Leaning against the door is no good, he feels pinned there by the pressure in his chest. 

God, like he just cornered Aiden. 

He fumbles to turn on the sink, hands shaking. His fingers feel like precarious stacks of marbles rather than joints, skin slick from perspiration. Why did he have to replace the valve with stupid spoke handles? It takes a few tries before he can cup his hands together to hold onto any water. Given how little he’s breathing, the first splash feels like he’s waterboarding himself. He straightens, gasping and sputtering, but the innate reaction overrides his anxiety and he manages to pull in some deeper breaths. He keeps his hands under the tap and forces focus on the sensation of the cold water against his skin, the air in his lungs. 

One, two, three, four…one, two, three, four…

The panic recedes the more he breathes but guilt is quick to fill the vacancy. He doesn’t know what he was thinking, letting his prescription run out. He’s useless when he’s like this. 

His hands still shake as he twists off the faucet, nerves wrung out and cold. He avoids his reflection and turns to leaning against the counter while he towels his hands dry. His phone’s almost dead from not being charged all night. He stares at the chat with Delia, his string of blue bubbles filling the right side, unanswered. The last one, “What time do you get off today?” is a poor cover for his real question, “How soon can you come over?” Without hesitation, his anxiety is all too happy to supply countless awful explanations for why she hasn’t had three fucking seconds to send a single thumbs up in the last six hours. His pulse steps up again, his fingertips start to tingle. 

Leo drops his phone back into his pocket and scrubs his face with his hands, forces another few rounds of deep breaths. There’s a headache building right behind his eyes. More sleep will help but he has to take care of Aiden first. Starting with an apology. 

He finally turns to meet his tired, bloodshot eyes in the mirror. The lines of his face, deepened by exhaustion, make him look like he’s pushing forty and the fact that he hasn’t shaved since last weekend isn’t exactly helping. He scratches the corner of his jaw where there are a few traitorous white hairs. When he reaches for his toothbrush, he knows he’s stalling but how will he even start explaining his reaction to Aiden? 

At some point, he replaced his toothbrush on the charging stand and started washing his hands. Based on the suds caught in the drain, he already washed them more than once. He can’t get stuck here, not now. His heart starts rushing again and his throat feels tight, panic and frustration balling in his chest. How many times has this happened in the last day alone? 

“It hasn’t been this bad for years,” he whispers in his defense to nobody. 

But he still can’t stop. Not yet. He meets his eyes in the mirror again, ignoring the flare of self-pity and disgust. Just one more time, he tells himself, trying to believe it. 

Four pumps of soap. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi…

The door opens and he immediately loses count; isn’t sure if he wasn’t finished yet or if he’d already started over again. Aiden peeks through the crack, crease between his brow telling Leo he’s also biting his lip. When Leo meets his gaze in the mirror, Aiden ducks back into the hallway. 

Shit. 

Aiden wouldn’t have taken such a liberty without knocking first, probably more than once and only then after Leo was in here for way too long. Another total failure for the list. But at least it was enough to knock him out of the loop. 

The poor kid looks like he’s expecting a hell of a lot more than Leo suggesting breakfast when he comes out into the hall. He’s pressed against the span of wall between the top of the stairs and Leo’s bedroom. Not quite adjacent to where Leo stands in the bathroom door but clearly trying to find some middle ground that isn’t retreating to his room at the end of the hall. 

Leo buys them both a little space by turning to the washer and dryer to switch their laundry from last night. He wonders if Aiden notices the two extra towels he used when he needed more than one shower to feel like he could sleep. God, he’s completely unraveling. 

Aiden is no more relaxed when Leo faces him again. 

“Aiden, look—” he says at the same time Aiden says, “M’sorry.”

He holds up a hand and Aiden flinches. 

Well, that’s about right after what he pulled. But man, if it’s not a kick in the gut while he’s down. To make matters worse, Aiden seems to think it’s his responsibility to set things right after being subjected to Leo’s irrational panic. His guilt starts to turn in to a physical ache in his chest.  

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” Aiden watches him carefully like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, long fingers worrying the cuffs of the hoodie. “You’re not in trouble,” Leo adds, taking a note from Delia. “Just finding you on the floor—” 

“Mmm….you…w-w-w—” Aiden shakes his head, swallows. “Mmm…here…” Leo waits but Aiden doesn’t say anything else, just huffs out a little sigh of exasperation before letting his gaze slide to rest on Leo’s make-shift bed. Which of course he tidied, blanket neatly folded and pillow set on top. His eyes lift to dance around Leo’s face, searching for some sign that he’s getting it. 

“I was sleeping here…” Leo feels obtuse stating the basest fact he can pull out of this exchange but Aiden nods. 

“I—my—” He scrunches his face up and shakes his head. He’s pinching and pulling at the cuffs of his sleeves now, grip tightening. He swallows hard twice before he tries again. “I’mmm…you…here…” 

“You…” Leo hopes he’s not taking too far of a leap. “...moved onto the floor when you saw me there?”  

Aiden turns his head away like he’s expecting to be slapped, gives a tiny nod. 

“That’s okay, it’s okay,” Leo says quickly. “But you didn’t have to sleep on the floor just because I was. Anyway, that runner is actually pretty thick, I—” Aiden bites his lips together like he wants to say something else. “What is it?” 

He knots his fingers together then separates them after a quick glance up at Leo, smoothing them against his thighs. “I—I—mmm…” He takes a deliberate step closer, halving the space between them. Does it with the air of stepping up to the chopping block. He waits for Leo to connect the dots. When he doesn’t, he lifts one of his hands, stopping just shy of brushing the back of Leo’s, before letting it fall again and tucking both behind his back. 

“Oh.” 

Despite his countless missteps, Aiden wanted to be closer to him. 

“Well, that’s okay.” When he realizes it sounds like giving permission he amends, “I mean, of course it’s okay. You can do whatever you want. Sleep wherever you want.” 

Aiden furrows his brow.  

“Sorry. I just mean— We never— I was worried—” Leo takes a breath. “You…” Cried yourself to sleep in my arms. “...fell asleep and I didn’t know if you wanted me to stay. I didn’t want you to be surprised when you woke up.” He sighs. “But I guess you were anyway…” 

Aiden shakes his head. “S’okay.” 

This kid would let him get away with murder…and then try to apologize like he invented death. Leo has to learn to get out ahead of these things if they’re ever going to have a chance.

“Were you—Did you have bad dreams or…” 

He lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug but doesn’t meet Leo’s gaze. 

“We’ll figure something out for tonight, yeah?” 

Aiden nods. He keeps his eyes down but he’s dropped his shoulders from his ears, hands in the pocket of the hoodie. Leo wants to wrap him up in a hug, make sure knows he was never in trouble, and tell him he never has to sleep alone again if he doesn’t want to. 

“I shouldn’t have freaked out like that,” he blurts instead. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

Dark eyes search his. 

“It’s just— I panicked and I wasn’t thinking straight. After last night— After everything— It’s worse when I haven’t slept enough but it’s not your fault. It has nothing to do with you—” This word-vomit explanation is doing him no favors but he can’t seem to stop. “I promise it won’t happen again. I just want to make sure you know you didn’t do anything wrong, it was all me and I’m going to—” 

Aiden opens his mouth and closes it again. 

“What?” 

He shakes his head, dropping his gaze. 

Leo scrubs a hand over his face. “Short story long, I’m sorry for panicking.” 

Aiden peeks up at him then looks down again. Slow and deliberate, he pulls his good hand out of his pocket. He keeps it low, arm bent just enough to allow him to turn his palm up. A suggestion of an invitation, rather than an overt one, and one that could easily be missed.

Leo can’t help but smile as he squeezes Aiden’s fingers. 

Now Aiden ducks his chin against his chest in a good way. Not quite smiling but almost. 

“How about some breakfast?” 

“Mmm’yeah…mmm’thank…you…” Aiden parses the words carefully.

“Eggs and toast sound okay? I think we’re out of bacon.” 

Aiden nods. “Mhm.” 

He’s agreeing too quickly, making himself easy and accommodating. Is it because he’s afraid or does he think he has something to make up for? Either way, it feels like backward progress and Leo wonders all over again how he will ever rise to this occasion. 

But he can think of worse ways to spend the rest of the day than trying to get a real smile out of Aiden. So at least he has somewhere to start.

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@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nick-pascal @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess

@meetmeinhellcroutons @briars7 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump

@painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings

@peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @guachipongo @creetchure @leyswhumpdump

@aseasonwithclarasblog @catawhumpus @magziemakeswhatever @pigeonwhumps @batfacedliar-yetagain

@whumpinthepot @dustypinetree @whump-in-progress @pirefyrelight @whumps-and-bumps

@i-eat-worlds @hellodecisionparalysis @heartfullofhoney @alternateminds @taterswhump

[loveakii]

glad skyrus made up but i fear the worst is yet to come… like putting scotch tape over a leak in a dam…..

[scarletfasinera]

Forgot that I put some Counting Crows songs on my Moon Knight playlist and got jumpscared when one started playing

[rosea-tangible]

so real literally went through such a bizarre mood turn during an otherwise nice day that I could not rectify for the life of me. pissed me off bruh

[relto]

aoxbsh i domino-ed two civilians, then shot one of them with a sleep dart to get them both out of the way at once. the one i shot SOMEHOW got dragged across the balcony towards the other and slammed into the glass door, which shattered.

[i-am-aprl]

BREAKING: Canada has become the first major Western ally of Israel to halt weapons exports to Israel.

Canada's parliament passed a non-binding motion calling on the government to stop sending weapons to Israel and the Foreign Minister has since confirmed that they will end its weapons shipments.

While the move falls short of a full arms embargo, it has drawn strong criticism from Israeli officials who are afraid it could trigger a domino effect among other Western countries.

[prokopetz]

why do you think indie metroidvanias specifically take so long to make, and is there a solution that you'd like to see them go for? (i know that would likely mean a compromise of some kind, but like, you know)

The reason why is fairly obvious: the classic metroidvania formula makes it very easy to fall prey to unintentional scope creep and is a positive nightmare to QA.

Non-linear progression gating based on precision platforming challenges where the player's basic moveset is constantly changing means every little thing needs to be rigorously tested in every part of the gameworld, carefully checking every room with every combination of abilities the player could conceivably possess for a wide range of failure states.

Is there some combination of abilities that allows the player to get into this room, but not out of it afterwards? Is there some combination of abilities that allows the player to do things in an order you didn't expect? Does that variation in sequencing in turn create situations where the player can end up somewhere without an ability you had assumed was required to get there? And so forth.

Even once you've got everything tested, it's not over. Every tiny change during development, even as small as adding or subtracting a couple of percentage points from the player character's jumping height or walking speed, can potentially have a domino effect that introduces a whole new set of failure states. It's not a pretty picture!

As for solutions, the one most solo or small-team metroidvanias end up adopting is to put a damper on the exponential QA explosion by linearising progression. If you haven't flipped the right switch or visited the right room, the door simply doesn't open, the progression-critical cutscene simply doesn't trigger, and so forth. Even big-name metroidvanias often make judicious use of this one: for example, Super Metroid has certain doors in the early game that just arbitrarily will not open until you've collected a couple of specific items from the game's combat-free introductory area.

The trouble with this approach is that if you use it to the extent that's necessary to keep your QA responsibilities at a manageable level for a small team or solo developer, you functionally end up with a linear, level-based platformer that makes you walk from one level to the next. Whether this disqualifies a given title from the "metroidvania" label is a demarcation problem I'm not interested in litigating, but folks who expected a more open world experience are quite understandably going to be disappointed.

The approach I'd prefer more indie metroidvanias take is to keep things under control by limiting their scope. Not ever damn thing needs to be the next Hollow Knight; many classics of the genre can be completed in well under an hour with good routing even without employing modern speedrun tech. Similarly, some of the best indie metroidvanias are those with the smallest maps; Alruna and the Necro-Industrialists, probably the best example of open-world map design of any metroidvania published in 2024, has a map that's scarcely twenty by twenty screens, and its routing is downright fiendish.

(One of my perennial probably-never-gonna-happen projects is to design a full-featured metroidvania targeting a two to three hour casual playthrough whose entire map can fit on a single screen while remaining at a vaguely playable zoom level, in the style of titles like 1 Screen Platformer.)

[maudie-duan]

Summary: You were an almost lover, now a hushed whisper in the dark when his Ex moves back to town. Nothing is worse than a love triangle you weren't expecting--old flames, new love, and lingering feelings, but who's the real winner when everyone gets hurt? Trope: Friends To Lovers X Love Triangle Pairing: Prince Harry Styles X (Fem)Reader X Ex-Girlfriend Taglist: Let me know in the comments if you want to be tagged for this series. Warnings: All Angst, Mild Spice. Type: Three-Part Mini-Series A/N: You guys asked for ANGST!!!!!!! So now I'm delivering. This will be a little spin-off from The Sabrina Series<- but still the same concept, just roping together three songs. Requested by @shaeeggsstuff @run-for-the-hills @spinninc

POV: You

What's your side of the story? How did you even get mixed up in this tangled web of devastation?

Part One<-

POV: Ex-Girlfriend (Leah)

Some people need a villain. There are two sides to every story, and now there will be three.

Part Two<-

POV: Harry

Love is complicated, especially when love has Harry torn between his past and present. How does he decide if the weight of his history with his Ex(Leah) outweighs his future with you, and when Leah comes back, and those same toxic patterns start playing on repeat, will history be worth repeating??

Part Three<-

POV: You

BONUS PART!!!

What's left after the confusion of feelings, when the domino effect has been triggered, and everyone is left in the aftermath of what was.

Part Four<-

A/N: You guys!!!!! I'm so fucking excited about this one. I forgot how much I LOVE writing angst. You're in for a treat!

The Sabrina Series Masterlist<-

My Tiny Masterlist<-

Chat with me!<-

[glowettee]

how to recover from chronic procrastination (not just time management tips)

by mindy @glowettee

i wanted to talk about healing your relationship with time and tasks when you're stuck in a deep procrastination cycle. i've been in this cycle for a month now, and just recently got out of it using all of these methods. please just remember to be gentle to yourself, and take small steps.

understanding your procrastination:

identifying emotional triggers: notice what feelings come up right before you avoid tasks. is it fear? overwhelm? sometimes it's as subtle as a tiny flutter of anxiety

recognizing avoidance patterns: maybe you always clean your room when essays are due, or suddenly need to reorganize your pinterest boards before studying

spotting perfectionism links: notice when you're not starting because you're afraid it won't be perfect. this often shows up as "i'll start when i feel more prepared"

understanding fear responses: your body might feel heavy, or you might get suddenly sleepy when facing certain tasks. these are actually fear responses in disguise

mapping procrastination cycles: track how one avoided task creates a domino effect of more procrastination. it's usually a sweet little pattern we can gently break

emotional recovery steps:

healing task-related anxiety: create tiny, sweet rituals that make tasks feel safe. maybe light a candle before starting or use your prettiest pen

building self-trust again: start with promises so small they feel silly. like "i'll work for just two minutes" and actually stop after two minutes

developing completion confidence: collect evidence of times you've finished things, even tiny things like making your bed or sending a text

managing overwhelm spirals: catch yourself before the "i have so much to do" spiral starts. write everything down in your prettiest handwriting

creating safety in starting: make beginning feel cozy. wrap yourself in a soft blanket, make tea, create a gentle environment for work

rebuilding work capacity:

micro-task training: start with tasks so tiny they feel almost meaningless. maybe just open your laptop or take out one book

starting-point exercises: practice just beginning things without the pressure to finish. it's like dipping your toes in a pool

momentum building: string tiny tasks together like beads on a necklace. each small completion leads to another

success spirals: document every tiny win in a pretty journal. watching the pages fill creates its own kind of motivation

confidence restoration: celebrate completing even the smallest tasks. treat each one like a tiny victory worth noting

practical healing methods:

task relationship repair: make peace with tasks that scare you. talk to them like old friends you're getting to know again

emotional safety nets: create comfort zones within your work space. maybe a special corner with fairy lights and soft pillows

anxiety soothing techniques: develop gentle ways to calm your nervous system. perhaps counting flower petals or tracing patterns

overwhelm prevention: break everything down into pieces so small they feel almost silly. like "open notebook" as a complete task

progress preservation: keep a soft, gentle record of all your tiny steps forward. no progress is too small to celebrate

creating new patterns:

gentle accountability: find ways to be accountable that don't feel punishing. maybe share your tiny goals with a friend

achievement recognition: notice and celebrate every small completion, even just getting out your materials

progress celebration: create sweet little rewards for progress. maybe a favorite song or a moment with your comfort book

pattern interruption: catch old patterns with gentleness. "oh, there's my pinterest avoidance. how sweet of me to try to protect myself"

identity rebuilding: slowly start seeing yourself as someone who can start and finish things, one tiny step at a time

maintaining recovery:

preventing relapse: notice early warning signs with kindness. catch yourself before the avoidance cycle starts

managing setbacks: treat setbacks like gentle reminders to return to your healing practices

building resilience: each time you start again, you're building stronger foundations

sustaining progress: keep your momentum gentle and sustainable

adapting strategies: adjust your approaches with tenderness as you learn what works best for you

remember: recovering from chronic procrastination is about healing, not just forcing yourself to work.

tip: small wins create the foundation for bigger changes 🤍

p.s. you're not lazy, you're healing from task trauma.

[hotchnersangel]

I'VE GOT MY EYE ON YOU

Aaron Hotchner.

This is fully mentioning eating disorders and may be triggering to people suffering, in recovery or even prone to struggle. Please, take care of yourselves babies, you are strong, you are brave and your body is your home. You are and will always be more than your body and no matter what you are beautiful the way you are.

read with caution.

cw; self-loathing, ed awareness, struggles with eating, hurt, protective hitch, blood, passing out, fem!reader, bau!reader and more

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

If feeling like the world hates you isn't enough, try hating yourself. Try waking up day in and day out facing the battle of your life, every waking moment. When you think it is over, nope, you were just too nice to believe you were struggling. At this point, it became a huge definition of you and who you are, without meaning to. Your ED was something you learnt to live with and grew accustomed to seeing and living through since you were about sixteen. It had taken a huge toll on your life.

You lived your life in fear of numbers on a label, on a menu. You were trapped within your mind, building a cage around your freedom. You live your life shadowed by food and yet, you could never shake it.

You thought that not going to the hospital meant it was invalid, that it wasn't actually an eating disorder. You don't think that you have what is considered to be an ed, instead, you think you're just picky. That is what you play it off to be.

You reached a stage in your life where it got better, you never stopped checking calorie labels, and you think there won't be a day that happens. But, you forgave yourself for breaking your restrictions.

That was until you saw yourself on TV during a case. At that moment, you reverted to every old trick in the book, hating how your body looked with the extra weight it was carrying. So, you simply stopped. You stopped eating when unnecessary, you stopped your sweet treats, and your calorie intake over a limited number. You stopped feeling grateful for your body and instead began to loathe it. You began to loathe yourself, your mind.

You assumed it would just be the same as usual, you were only heightening what was already going on after all but slowly, you felt your body grow exhausted.

You lost your spark, your drive, your energy. The fulfilling aura surrounding you started to thin and eventually, the team started to notice your decline. Specifically on one case, the hotel was offering free breakfast which you declined, claiming you were full from dinner- but, it was harder to hide at dinner. Rossi suggested you all go out, on him, to celebrate completing the case and this was the beginning of a domino effect in the unravelling of your issue.

You went out, of course you did.

You also ran out of clothes and had to ask JJ and Emily to share, having always been the same size as them, which confused you because they were always so fit physically. Emily offered you an off-the-shoulder dress which you thought you would break if you tried to put it on. You immediately feel self-conscious after putting it on, your shoulders fully on display, your hips filling the dress, making it squeeze into your body. You hate it. You really hate it. It always looked so good on Emily, but it doesn't look good on you. Fuck. You have to push back your tears.

Walking into the elevator, you see Hotch leaning against the wall on his phone, he looks up when you walk in and he smiles at you. "Hey."

"Hi," you say quietly, suddenly extremely aware of your shoulders and arms right now. Aware of the bump in the dress where your stomach sticks out, the way the dress feels like it is going to burst out the seams. You didn't even realise you were zoned out until Hotch spoke up again.

"Are you cold?" He inquires, raising an eyebrow as he looks over you. Unknowingly you had your arms crossed over your body, breathing in your stomach and covering your arms at all costs.

"No." You reply confused until you realise why he thought that. You don't drop them though, just shaking your head at him. "No, I'm not."

He takes his jacket off, handing it to you absentmindedly, looking over at you with concern. "It will be cold out there, here."

"Thank you," you tell him genuinely. He nods and you both meet the team.

At the restaurant, Aaron makes a move to sit beside you. He watched as your eyes flared in panic reading the menu and he was trying to piece together what was going on with you.

When it comes to ordering, you order the lowest calorie option which happened to be a soup. The team pulled a face and then moved on. Though, when the meals arrive, you look at the other's plates with envy. They could eat that and still be fit. Why couldn't you just be normal?

Aaron must have noticed your expression as he offered you his meal, to swap. You smile at him for his gesture but you shake your head at him. "Thank you but I'm not that hungry."

Through the night, everyone tucked into their meals but you continued to sip your wine when the others watched but then you swapped to your water when you suspected no one looking. Then you blamed yourself for not finishing your meal on the technicality that you had too much wine.

Smart, Aaron thought as he started to understand what was going on.

You all went back to the hotel and the case was over. From that day on, Aaron has been keeping an eye on you. He monitored you on your lunch breaks and then on cases made sure you had something.

However, you promised yourself that you wouldn't let your picky eating interfere with a case. Never cross personal matters with work. But, you lost the privacy privilege when you starved yourself for days on end and slowly became trailer and weaker. You were noticeably losing weight and now everyone was starting to realise because eventually, you became addicted to the idea. You found comfort in your disorder and it both terrified and rejoyced you.

Midway through a case, you and the bau were en route to catching the unsub. You're all sat outside, planning how to enter the building safely, you decide to ignore the black splodges delicately kissing your vision and continue with the plan. You were paired with Hotchner and thankfully, Morgan and Emily had caught the unsub because shortly after running into the house, you searched the kitchen and you remember feeling a rush of dizziness and the way the room spun before you blacked out into a faded daze.

You wake up shortly, Hotch by your side as he holds some tissue above your eye. You blink with confusion for a moment as you return from your disorientation to the reality of what just happened. You blink a few times, trying to sit up but being ushered to stay sat down by Aaron.

"Don't move, you've hit your head." He mutters, his eyebrows pulled together tightly with concern and some traces of anger.

You don't speak. You don't know what to say really.

Paramedics come in and check you over, attending to your wound and informing you that you will have a black and bruised eye shortly. Once they give you the okay, they leave you with Aaron telling him to keep an eye on you to ensure no head traumas show late signs.

He sighs and looks at you softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired, very tired and I have an awful migraine." You frown, looking up at him as your hand moves to your head and eye region and you flinch at the tenderness of the wound.

"What happened?" You finally ask the dreaded question, looking directly towards him now. He frowns.

"You passed out and hit your head on the counter on your way down." He informs you, placing his hand on your back and offering you his hand to stand up. Eventually, you do, your knees wobbling as you do but Aaron ensures that he has a firm and tight grip on you, so you do not fall. "We will speak more about this and what caused you to pass out later but you should rest."

You look at your hands when you walk to the SUV, Hotch guiding you the whole way. You knew you had to tell him, you knew that he already knew what was going on he's a profiler, the unit chief too so of course he knows.

You stay silent the whole way back to the hotel, absentmindedly looking outside the window as both your phone and his buzzed with notifications, probably from the team asking for an update on the situation. Although, you didn't check your phone and nor did Aaron, since he was driving.

When you arrived at the hotel, Aaron walked you to your room. "I'll send Emily or JJ over to stay with you if you'd like."

"No- please. I love them but that really isn't what I need right now. please." You plead him, staring so fearfully into his eyes that his heart breaks to see how beaten down you truly are.

"I was told you need to be under close supervision, forgive me for assuming you'd want them- I just thought you would rather be with a woman." Hotch explains and you nod.

"Can- can you stay with me?" You ask so quietly that he wasn't even sure if he imagined it or not. "Out of everyone, I'd want it to be you, yeah." You nod sheepishly at him and he nods with a small smile, following in after you walked into your room.

"I'm just going to grab my bag, get some pyjamas on and ready for bed and I'll be back." He tells you, not wanting to leave so he hesitates his departure. "Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Aaron, go." To which he does and you change, catching your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Staring into it as tears caress your cheeks. You honestly have no idea how long you have been there, criticising your reflection in the bathroom mirror. So distracted you don't hear the hotel room door open again until you see his figure appear behind you in the reflection.

"I wasn't going to speak with you about this tonight but I think we need to." He says, staring into your eyes through the mirror. Your glossy and red-rimmed eyes.

"I'm speaking to you tonight as someone who cares about you and puts your health first, okay?" Hotch says, leading you to sit on the bed. He tilts your chin to look at him. "What happened today simply cannot happen again, okay?"

"I didn't mean for it to happen- you know that."

"I do but I don't know what you expected honey," He says softly.

The silence between you is palpable in that moment. "I swore my personal life and my work life would never cross."

Aaron sighs and looks away for a moment, looking back at you. "Your eating disorder affects your body both in and outside of work; you can't pick and choose when it can take a toll on you."

You stay silent. "I don't have an eating disorder."

"Yeah, love... you do." He says softly, looking at you to gauge your reaction; which wasn't being taken well.

"No- I do not." You defend, raising your voice slightly. "Just because I'm a picky eater doesn't mean I have an- doesn't mean I have it."

"When was the last time you ate?" He asks you, again, with no judgement and just a casual tone as if it was an ordinary conversation.

"Today."

He gives you a look. "When was the last time you ate more than three mouthfuls of food?"

You frown, getting ready to shout again. You weren't shouting at him, you were just mad at the situation. Though, it got cut short, interrupted by a sob. At this, Aaron was quick to pull you into his chest, wrapping his large arms around your shoulders. His hand caresses your hair, stoking it as he lets you cry into his shoulder. He understands that you've been holding this in for a very long time and he isn't happy you're struggling, but he is glad that you are letting him in.

'I don't wanna live like this anymore." Your voice shakes as you clutch his shirt. "I'm so tired."

He closes his eyes, feeling tears swell in his chest at the raw pain of your voice. "I'm here for you, I'm going to help you get you through this."

You pull back and look at him.

"You need to admit it," He moves his hand to your cheek, gently brushing the tears away, making sure he doesn't touch your injured eye- which was breaking out into a bruise through the swelling.

"I can't," you shake your head, hating how the words hurt your chest. The burning sensation as it lingers in your heart, physically scoring at your heart.

Hotch smiles encouragingly at you, "In order for me to help you, you need to admit that you're suffering honey."

"I-" you fall silent and Hotch doesn't speak, he doesn't rush you; he just lets you figure out your emotions by yourself. "Fuck, Hotch I think you were right. I have an... eating disorder."

The words feel like a splinter embedded into the skin, a sudden urge to vomit surging through your body- yet there was nothing to come up. Your mouth tasted like acid and your chest grew hot very quickly. But, it then subsided ever so slightly and there was almost a trace of... relief?

"I'm so proud of you." Hotch looks at you softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you frowned. "You admiring it is so progressive, do you know that?"

You shake your head, "I'm not feeling it."

"You will, eventually. We will take this slow okay? It won't happen overnight but believe me, you're on the road to recovery."

[midnightkolrath]

One thing I like about DMC is the parallels they sneak in where at first you may not think it is...but the more you think about it...

Like the scene in 3 with Arkham is essentially Vergil's first big footsteps into hunting for his father's power years later after the tragedy he endured. He's looking for a way to grab that power, and here comes Arkham to begin to properly set him on the path that builds up the domino effect that THEN sets up the rest of the suffering he has to endure. From his clash with his twin, to his defeat, then his attempted clash with Mundus that leads into his enslavement and weakening that sets the stage for DMC5 with the birth of V and Urizen.

Then, in Visions of V, the climax has it where V embraces Urizen and encounters essentially the form of his fears and weakness as his younger self. Of course, V is met with immediate act of aggression through instinct of self defense by his younger manifestation but he still is prompted to not show his special book to return to him, but also remind him that 'Power alone is not enough'.

That line alone has me thinking like....wow. A complete opposite to the context of the moment with Arkham, where there's the talk about power and the desire for it. The fact that its basically himself on the other side of his own sword in VoV telling him that is, to me, such an interesting display of character growth. I don't know if that moment in VoV was meant to reference the Arkham convo in 3, but I like to believe it was. Its so alike, that it'd be weird if it wasn't to me.

Here's another cheeky one I like too, by the way.

The very night that Vergil reclaims Yamato and heads home to split himself into V and Urizen has a full moon. JUST like the very night when Vergil first defeated Dante that would eventually lead into the escalation of 3's plot and even having an ironic callback in 5 that would lead into Dante unlocking his Sin Devil Trigger.

One's a moment of victory over his twin brother, asserting his power. The other? A moment of reflection of losses that haunt him to this day, reminding him of the weakness he's desperately trying to chase away. The said desperation that peaks his desire for power and pushes him to believe abandoning his humanity is a benefit.

Of course, these thoughts still haunts him even as V (and especially Urizen, but I've mentioned that before) to the point where he reflects over it a few times. I often talk about these moment in VoV, but its just...man. One of the best things we got for DMC. A good addition for Vergil's character and essentially the icing ontop of the cake for 5 alongside the Before the Nightmare novel. There's several things it calls back to for Vergil's journey subtle or not. I hope we get more content like it in the future (maybe even have VoV localized officially), alongside games of course.

[esotericimagesforredpilledpeople]

In the late 1990s, Enron, the infamous energy giant, and MCI, the telecom titan, were secretly collaborating on a clandestine project codenamed "Chronos Ledger." The official narrative tells us Enron collapsed in 2001 due to accounting fraud, and MCI (then part of WorldCom) imploded in 2002 over similar financial shenanigans. But what if these collapses were a smokescreen? What if Enron and MCI were actually sacrificial pawns in a grand experiment to birth Bitcoin—a decentralized currency designed to destabilize global finance and usher in a new world order?

Here’s the story: Enron wasn’t just manipulating energy markets; it was funding a secret think tank of rogue mathematicians, cryptographers, and futurists embedded within MCI’s sprawling telecom infrastructure. Their goal? To create a digital currency that could operate beyond the reach of governments and banks. Enron’s off-the-books partnerships—like the ones that tanked its stock—were actually shell companies funneling billions into this project. MCI, with its vast network of fiber-optic cables and data centers, provided the technological backbone, secretly testing encrypted "proto-blockchain" transactions disguised as routine telecom data.

But why the dramatic collapses? Because the project was compromised. In 2001, a whistleblower—let’s call them "Satoshi Prime"—threatened to expose Chronos Ledger to the SEC. To protect the bigger plan, Enron and MCI’s leadership staged their own downfall, using cooked books as a convenient distraction. The core team went underground, taking with them the blueprints for what would later become Bitcoin.

Fast forward to 2008. The financial crisis hits, and a mysterious figure, Satoshi Nakamoto, releases the Bitcoin whitepaper. Coincidence? Hardly. Satoshi wasn’t one person but a collective—a cabal of former Enron execs, MCI engineers, and shadowy venture capitalists who’d been biding their time. The 2008 crash was their trigger: a chaotic moment to introduce Bitcoin as a "savior" currency, free from the corrupt systems they’d once propped up. The blockchain’s decentralized nature? A direct descendant of MCI’s encrypted data networks. Bitcoin’s energy-intensive mining? A twisted homage to Enron’s energy market manipulations.

But here’s where it gets truly wild: Chronos Ledger wasn’t just about money—it was about time. Enron and MCI had stumbled onto a fringe theory during their collaboration: that a sufficiently complex ledger, powered by quantum computing (secretly prototyped in MCI labs), could "timestamp" events across dimensions, effectively predicting—or even altering—future outcomes. Bitcoin’s blockchain was the public-facing piece of this puzzle, a distraction to keep the masses busy while the real tech evolved in secret. The halving cycles? A countdown to when the full system activates.

Today, the descendants of this conspiracy—hidden in plain sight among crypto whales and Silicon Valley elites—are quietly amassing Bitcoin not for profit, but to control the final activation of Chronos Ledger. When Bitcoin’s last block is mined (projected for 2140), they believe it’ll unlock a temporal feedback loop, resetting the global economy to 1999—pre-Enron collapse—giving them infinite do-overs to perfect their dominion. The Enron and MCI scandals? Just the first dominoes in a game of chance and power.

[kikyoupdates]

For Tomorrow's Sake ⭑˚💫⭑ 𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟

various!jjk x f!reader

reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn

You never believed reincarnation was possible, least of all in the fictional world of Jujutsu Kaisen. However, from the moment you meet Gojo Satoru, it’s impossible to deny. Whether it’s a miracle or some kind of curse, you find yourself growing up alongside the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Unfortunately, you know what the future holds in store. You know exactly what kind of tragedies await. Perhaps that’s why you were brought into this world. If it means saving people from a gruesome fate, you’ll gladly suffer in their place. You’ll do whatever it takes. All for the sake of a better tomorrow.

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“I’m leaving the Zen’in Clan.” 

Shortly after the birth of the twins, Toji makes an announcement. Up until now, it was a day just like any other. You were eating some dumplings you made—stuffed with an assortment of things, including flaming hot Cheetos—when all of a sudden, he turned to face you with a stern expression. 

He must have been expecting you to gape at him. He must have expected you to stop eating, frozen from the shock of it all. Perhaps he was even expecting you to ask him to repeat himself, because clearly, he just said something absolutely insane. 

But instead, you merely shrug.

“Cool,” you reply, taking another bite of your dumpling. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. You should totally do that. I support you.” 

Toji knits his brows together, incapable of hiding his confusion. “That’s all you have to say? Aren’t you even going to try to talk me out of it?” 

“Why would I do that? The Zen’in Clan is full of buttholes. Other than Naoya. He’s nice. He could easily have turned out to be a misogynistic douche, but don’t worry, I fixed him.”

“What the hell are you even talking about?” 

Toji shakes his head and lets out a heavy sigh. As always, you’re difficult to make sense of. But then again, he probably should’ve known you wouldn’t react normally. You’ve always been special. Full of surprises. It’s never a dull moment with you around. 

That must be why he likes you so much. 

“I’m really leaving,” Toji repeats. “You might think I’m not being serious, but I am. I’ve had enough of these lowlives. I’m constantly biting back the urge to kill them. Now that those twin girls have been born, I already know the clan is going to test my patience even more. I can’t stand to be around to watch it happen. It pisses me off.” 

You slowly set your dumpling down, then offer him a reassuring smile. “If that’s what you want to do, I think you should do it. You don’t owe them anything. In fact, I’m sure you’ll be much happier without them.” 

It’s not just that you think the Zen’in Clan is full of incorrigible losers. The fact that Toji has made up his mind to leave, at this point in time, clearly indicates that a specific event is set to occur. He has to abandon the Zen’in Clan. That’s one thing you have absolutely zero intention of changing. 

After all, you wouldn’t want to prevent Megumi from being born.

Part of you fears that you’ve already messed up the timeline enough. You’re worried that, with all of the changes you’ve brought on, they’ve triggered some kind of domino effect that will prevent Toji’s meeting with Megumi’s mother from ever taking place. It’s entirely possible that he’s already missed his window of opportunity. You were so determined to save as many lives as possible, that in doing so, you might have completely erased a certain boy’s existence from this world. 

…no. It’s not too late for them to meet. I have hope. I promised I would never give up, no matter what, and this is no different. 

“I want you to be happy,” you beam, and it’s crazy how just by looking at you for a few moments, Toji’s irritation completely subsides, and instead, a smile rises to his lips. 

“Is that so?” he chuckles. 

“Of course. I love you. You’re like my big brother. I want you to have a great life, surrounded by people you care about. Maybe even… a wife and a kid?” 

You bat your eyes at him, making no effort to be subtle. He blinks several times in a row, and at first, you assume it’s because you brought up marriage and kids, but it turns out that’s not what caught his attention.

Toji clears his throat. “What did you just say?” 

“Hm? I was just saying that I want you to be happy, and I think it’d be nice to have a family to call your own. Not like the Zen’in Clan. A real family. One that you actually care about.” 

“That’s not the part I was referring to.” 

You frown, not understanding right away, but eventually, your eyes widen. 

“Oh! Are you talking about how I said I loved you?” you ask, and based on the way Toji awkwardly shifts in place, you must have hit the nail right on the head. 

“That’s not a word you should be using at your age,” he says, although funnily enough, he doesn’t look all that torn up about it. “You’re too young. You’re just throwing it around without knowing any better.” 

“No, I’m not,” you insist. “I love you. And Satoru. And Naoya. All of you are irreplaceable to me. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a liar. When I say something like that, I mean it.” 

“...I see.” 

Toji doesn’t say anything else. You already know that he’s hardly the sentimental type, and perhaps it’s too soon for him to say he loves you back—perhaps he’ll go his entire life without uttering those words—but it’s okay. You don’t need any verbal affirmation. Just by watching him struggle to suppress his smile, the answer is obvious.

He cares about you more than he ever thought was possible. 

“I can’t believe he actually left!”

Well, it’s official. Toji is no longer a member of the Zen’in Clan, and surprise, surprise—Naoya isn’t happy about it.

“He seriously left,” Naoya grumbles, kicking a stray twig on the ground. “Why would he do something like that? I promised him I’d fix the Zen’in Clan. I told him I’d make everything better once I’m in charge. Does he… not believe in me at all?” 

“Of course he believes in you,” you reassure. “It’s just that he was tired of being treated so badly. He’d had enough. I’m sure you’ll become a great leader someday, but for now, the clan is still a difficult environment for Toji to be part of. He deserves the chance to be happy, don’t you think?” 

Naoya’s lips are still twisted into a pout, but your words give him pause, and he turns towards you with a hopeful expression. 

“Really?” he asks. “Does he really think I’ll become a good leader?” 

“Definitely not,” Satoru cuts in, spinning a leaf between his fingers disinterestedly.

Naoya grits his teeth. “Nobody was even talking to you, loser! I only care what [Name] has to say!” 

“Well, I thought you might want to hear the truth. [Name]’s just going to lie to you, like always, because that’s what people do when they want to spare stupid babies’ feelings.” Satoru stares at him, pointedly. “You’re the baby, in case that wasn’t clear.” 

“For the millionth time, I’m only one year younger than you!” 

“Ignore him, Naoya,” you sigh, half rolling your eyes. “I meant what I said. Toji might not show it, but I can tell he’s rooting for you to change the Zen’in Clan once you’re in charge. It’s just that it’ll be a while until then. For now, Toji’s just going to be doing his own thing. And it’s not like you won’t get to see him anymore. He’s still going to be training me.” 

“...I guess.” 

Naoya crosses his arms and relents, just this once. He really does look up to Toji. It’s kind of incredible just how much Toji meant to him in the canon series, because as far as you know, they didn’t really have a relationship. Certainly nothing like the one they have now. 

All thanks to you. 

For the next couple of days, Toji is busy finding a new place to live and getting settled in. You’re not worried that he’s going to go back on his promise to train you. Even if you end up having to be apart for a while, it’ll be fine. You’re confident that he’s changed for the better. He should know that you’ll be very upset with him if he decides to start going around assassinating sorcerers and whatnot. 

It doesn’t actually take all that long for you to see Toji again, and from what you can tell, he’s his usual self. Still, he’s always been good at keeping a poker face. So, to figure things out, you’ll have to put on your detective hat and be a little sneaky. 

“Toji, you haven’t started killing people for money, have you?” 

Satoru and Naoya both turn their heads, jaws dropping in disbelief. Perhaps you could’ve sugar-coated your words a bit more. Also, fine, you were lying about being sneaky. When it comes to Toji, you’ve learned that a blunt, steadfast approach is the most effective one. 

“What are you talking about?” Toji snorts, picking up a piece of offal with his chopsticks. “I’ve only been gone a week. Has your brain already started to rot?” 

“No, I’m still the same genius everyone knows and loves,” you reassure. 

“Well, isn’t that a relief.”

“You’re telling the truth, right?”

“Yes. I really am relieved that your brain hasn’t rotted.” 

“I’m obviously talking about the other thing. How many people have you killed this week, Toji? If the number is anything other than zero, I’m afraid we’re going to have a problem.” 

Naoya leans in to whisper in Satoru’s ear. “What is she talking about? I don’t understand at all. Is this what people call an inside joke?”  

“It better not be an inside joke,” Satoru mutters. “She knows I don’t like to be kept in the dark. Hey, [Name]! Who are we killing, and why?” 

“Nobody’s killing anyone,” you sigh, making a point of frowning towards Toji. He barely even flinches, of course. He’s always been good at keeping his cool (for the most part, at least), so it’s true that his expression doesn’t exactly give you much to work with. Still, you like to think that you know him pretty well by now, and you’re pretty confident that he hasn’t done anything wrong. 

“I’ve been gambling,” Toji suddenly says. He takes another bite of his food, wipes his mouth with a napkin, then leans back with his arms spread out. “Listen up. Other than [Name], you’re all a bunch of spoiled brats who don’t know any better, but adults have to make a living. Now that I’m no longer part of the Zen’in Clan, I have almost no money.” 

You frown. “What about the money you won all those times I snuck into the casino with you?” 

“Ah, I spent that already.” 

“All of it?” 

“Obviously. How do you think I managed to find somewhere to live in the first place? Most of my savings are gone now. I’m trying to take what little I have left and turn it into a fortune,” he says, chuckling to himself and looking awfully smug—as if gambling is something to be proud of. 

Satoru blinks languidly. “I give him less than two months until he ends up homeless.” 

“If you’re looking for a fight, all you have to do is ask,” Toji scowls.  

As much as you would like to rectify Toji’s problematic lifestyle, you figure he’s probably on the right track. He needs to explore the world on his own, and somewhere along the way, he’ll encounter the woman he’s meant to fall in love with. If you fix everything too soon, that meeting might never occur. 

So, you wait. Every time you meet up with Toji, you’re practically holding your breath, waiting to hear the good news. Or—some news, at least. Any kind of news other than the same old nonsense he usually greets you with. 

“[Name], you really need to come with me this time,” Toji urges, pulling on your sleeve like some kind of needy kindergartner. “I just can’t win. I only ever win big when I’m with you. Come on. I’ll buy you a present afterwards.” 

“I’m not going to keep enabling your gambling addiction, Toji,” you sigh. “Plus, we’ve already been blacklisted from pretty much everywhere. They even called the cops last time. I’m a good girl. I want to keep my record clean.” 

“Those kinds of laws hardly apply to jujutsu sorcerers.” 

“I’m just not destined for a life of crime. Sorry. Have you ever considered getting a real job?” 

Toji reels back, visibly offended. “What?” 

“A real job,” you repeat. “You know, like, working construction or something. You’re super-duper strong. I bet you wouldn’t even break a sweat.” 

“I can’t do that,” he refuses. 

“Why not?” 

“Because I don’t want to.” 

“Ah. It seems that once again, laziness is the cause of your misfortune,” you sigh. 

“Shut up.” Toji flicks you on the forehead, and you wince, hands moving to rub the sore spot that’s already forming. He then grumpily rests his chin on the back of his hand. “I’m still getting used to things, that’s all. I’ve been part of the Zen’in Clan all my life. I’m relieved to be done with those bastards. I just don’t know what to do next.” 

That settles it. You’re more certain that ever than he hasn’t yet become the famed Sorcerer Killer in this lifetime. Otherwise he wouldn’t look so confused. So lost. So unsure of what to do with his life. 

Having a new family should give him a sense of purpose. Especially if he’s actually a good dad this time around. 

“Things will look up soon,” you beam, leaning your head against Toji’s shoulder. “I promise.” 

Unfortunately, that turns out to be not-so-true. More time passes, but even now, Toji still hasn’t met Megumi’s mother. You hate to admit it, but you’re starting to panic. You’re terrified that you may have fucked up the story beyond return. 

Satoru must be able to tell that you’ve been rather high-strung lately, because he decides to take you out for a fun day in town. As much as you enjoy sneaking away from the Gojo Clan, admittedly, your attention is elsewhere. You can’t seem to get out of your own head. You can’t stop thinking about how, because of you, Megumi might not even exist. 

“[Name],” Satoru frowns. He grabs onto your wrist and pulls you towards him, gently. “What’s the matter with you? You’re acting weird. You’ve barely even been saying anything, and normally, you don’t know how to shut up.” 

“Oh… sorry.” 

You strain a smile, but he’s not your best friend for nothing. He can tell when there’s something weighing on your mind. He must have been hoping that this little trip would cheer you up. He looks disappointed with himself that it isn’t working. 

“Just be honest with me,” he insists. “Did something happen? You acted like it was no big deal, but are you secretly upset that the old man isn’t part of the Zen’in Clan anymore? Knowing you, I’m sure you’re still not over how badly they treated him.”

“No, not that. I’m just… preoccupied. With something I’ve been trying to fix.” 

“Well, why can’t you tell me what it is?” 

“It’s hard to explain.” 

“I’m not stupid. Whatever it is, I’ll understand.” 

He pulls on your wrist repeatedly, urging you to confide in him, but there are certain burdens in this world that only you can carry. You wish you’d done a better job of hiding how bummed out you are. It wasn’t your intention to worry him—

“Ah, good morning, Fushiguro!”

“...” 

Wait, what did I just hear? 

You turn your head so fast you nearly break your neck in the process. Your gaze wanders aimlessly at first, but eventually, you manage to discern where the voice was coming from—and it’s safe to say that your heart nearly stops. 

There’s a woman waving to the person who just called her name. She has black hair that doesn’t reach much further than below her chin, and a warm, gentle smile. A woman who, despite having only made a very brief appearance in the series, you immediately recognize. 

She is Megumi’s mother. Or at least, she’s supposed to be. 

You watch, lips parted in awe, as she steps inside one of the stores. It’s a restaurant, by the looks of it. Well, not that it really matters what it is. Yet again, the universe has just blessed you with an opportunity, and as always, you have no intention of wasting it. 

“I’m hungry,” you suddenly blurt, grabbing Satoru’s hand to pull him along. “That place looks like they’d have good food. Let’s go in there.” 

“Huh? Wait, you still haven’t even answered my question—” 

Too late. You’re already dragging him into the restaurant, whether he likes it or not, and even though he doesn’t understand what the hell is going on, he just can’t seem to figure out how to say no to you. 

You step inside the restaurant, with the door’s bell jingling behind you as it swings shut. It’s a small place, but it has a nice, comforting feel. You weren’t exactly lying about what you said before. It does look like it’d probably have pretty good food. That’s not what you’re here for, though. 

There are a few other customers inside, people sitting at tables and enjoying their meals, but regretfully, no sign of Fushiguro. You don’t understand how she could’ve possibly disappeared so fast. You watched her walk inside literally a few seconds ago. 

No way. Did I… lose her? Did I miss my chance? 

Your shoulders slump, and you’re once again weighed down by disappointment. This time, you really screwed things up. You’ve been doing so well in this world that you must’ve gotten overconfident. You must've forgotten just how delicate of a matter changing the future actually is. 

“What’s wrong now?” Satoru asks, tilting his head to get a better look at your expression. “Hey. Seriously. You need to talk to me. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.” 

You part your lips, even though you’re not really sure what to say, but before any sound escapes, you hear footsteps approaching. 

Ah. 

It’s Fushiguro. She looks slightly different than before. She changed into another shirt, and she’s also wearing an apron. Not only that, but she’s holding a pen in her hand, and a little notepad to write on.

Holy shit. She works here? 

“Hi there,” she suddenly says, smiling in your direction. “How can I help you today?” 

“T-Table for two,” you stammer out of pure reflex. After all, there’s no chance in hell you’re leaving now. Not when Lady Luck has so graciously decided to shine down upon you. It turns out that you’ve been worrying for nothing. When it comes to the characters of Jujutsu Kaisen, you’re quite literally a magnet for all of them.

Fushiguro leads you and Satoru to a table, then gets you started with some tea and water while you take the time to read the menu. She leaves to give you a few minutes to decide, and you’re so excited now that you can’t stop swinging your legs underneath the table. You even end up accidentally kicking Satoru in the shin. 

He rubs the tender spot on his leg and frowns. “Man, you’re weird. You looked so upset just a few minutes ago, but now you’re smiling nonstop. Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” 

“It’d be a waste of time to get into it. Just know that I’m amazing. I’m literally built different.” 

He’s not sure what the hell that’s supposed to mean, but at least you’re in a good mood again. Being upset doesn’t suit you. It just feels unnatural. Wrong. 

Satoru chuckles softly. 

As expected, you look best with a smile. 

“I’m telling you, the food’s amazing!” you exclaim. “You have to try it. I’m sure you’ll love it, too.” 

Toji knits his brows together. “I’m not sure I trust your opinion when it comes to food. If you’ve come up with a new way of trying to poison me, I’m not interested.” 

“Don’t worry, the food actually is good,” Satoru reassures. “Otherwise I sure as hell wouldn’t have come back.” 

“Hm. I’m still not convinced. This could easily be a prank.” 

“Well, you’re just going to have to find out, aren’t you?”

Satoru looks up at Toji with a taunting expression, to which the latter responds by glaring even harder, but you could care less about their petty feud right now. You’re practically vibrating as you step inside the restaurant. You’re about to bear witness to a modern love story, and it’s taking all your willpower not to let your inner fangirl explode. 

Fushiguro is working today, of course, and it’s not through sheer coincidence, but rather, by design. Last time she was your server, you shamelessly asked what her schedule was, so that you could visit her again. Perhaps it would be kind of a creepy question coming from an adult, but in everyone’s eyes, you’re just a cute, twelve-year-old kid. She seemed ecstatic that you liked her so much. And now, you’re about to repay her kindness with a gift. 

AKA a super jacked future husband. 

“Welcome,” Fushiguro beams. “There are three of you today! Who’s this you’ve brought along with you?” 

“This is Toji,” you happily introduce. “He’s basically my big brother. He takes care of me and is really nice. He’s handsome, too. Don’t you think so?” 

Toji turns towards you with a bewildered expression, and Satoru clamps a palm over his mouth to keep from laughing. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time you’ve said something out of pocket, and besides, Fushiguro doesn’t seem to mind. 

In fact, her cheeks redden ever-so-slightly, and a giggle spills from her lips.

“Yes,” she responds, timidly averting her gaze. “You’re right. He is quite handsome.” 

Toji straightens up, looking awfully alert all of a sudden, and you suspect that what you just said no longer bothers him. He might even be thankful for it. And he certainly doesn’t look like he wants to leave anymore. 

Now, then. 

It’s time to play Cupid. 

More chapters are available on Quotev and Ao3!

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[mashamorevvna]

funniest part of this is the executors just putting some random soldier to trigger grandpa's ptsd. 'damn dont we all LOVE those grey wardens, right COMMANDER LOGHAIN? arent they the most TRUSTWORTHY and least ORLESIAN organisation in ferelden?' like jesus christ elder abuse

i wish they would stop trying to make the secret ending less stupid & incoherent with the mood of the franchise. hey guys it fine. you fucked up with the avengers thanos reveal plot twist. you can do the thing you have always done and ignore inconvenient set-ups for the next game. its not as if the mage-templar conflict happened on screen. or as if solas' agents and army didnt take an extended sabbatical in rivain with coconut drinks and margaritas.

[ivorsblocksleeve]

the mcsm fandom fuckin sucks dude

As a long time member of the furry, danganronpa, and BNHA fandom im not the type of person who likes to generalize entire fandoms based off of experiences i hear about or have with other people in said fandoms. but the MCSM fandom is such a filthy stain on the internet and so many people in the community have gotten WAY out of hand. the constant racism and whitewashing of characters. people publicly talking about NSFW topics in numerous discord servers that have children in them, sometimes with people under 13 years old. the ridiculous amount of drama surrounding character headcanons among other things. its RIDICULOUS

im a black guy. i can care less about the "issue of blackwashing", it does not exist and never has existed. i care a LOT about the whitewashing in this community. there are multiple jesse skins for a reason, to represent a ton of different peoples races! red suspenders jesse is literally WHITE! if you want to draw white jesse draw HIM! why are people whitewashing the other jesse skins? why are people whitewashing characters like radar, stella, olivia, etc?? MCSM as a game has blessed its community with a wide range of characters of different ethnicities and races (even if not directly stated) and none of them are stereotyped, theyre all incredibly well written and have great characterizations but unappreciative morons are choosing to whitewash the shit out of them :/. the characters are so easy to colorpick. theyre minecraft characters. literally pixels. coloring people of different skin colors is NOT a difficult thing. have some common sense and use references properly.

im an adult who likes adult things. as an adult i understand boundaries and that talking to minors about sexual headcanons is NOT a good thing! woah! some of you dont understand how important it is to tag certain shit on different sites correctly or how to keep conversations about NSFW topics away from people who are WAY younger than you. vague jokes are one thing but time after time ive either heard or seen myself that grown ass people are describing explicitly sexual things with minors. gross much???? and PUBLICLY of all things. its one thing to have your own friend group or whatever, its fine to discuss things in private so long as its with someone in your fucking age range but JESUS CHRIST! MCSM discord servers have become BREEDING GROUNDS for these kinds of adult NSFW discussions with minors and it only creates a domino effect where they too start sharing that in OTHER MCSM servers with OTHER minors. ITS GROSS!!

(whole paragraph above also applies to headcanons and aus that are also potentially triggering. jesus christ some things should just be kept in private convos on the internet)

and my god the DRAMA over characters its insane. its completely fine to dislike certain headcanons and to have certain opinions on them. you can publicly voice your opinions in a RESPECTFUL manner. it really is not hard.?? at all. there are a ton of headcanons i hate personally, i rant about them in private and if i ever feel like voicing about them in public ill say it in a respectful manner. if someone dislikes a headcanon you like it is not a personal attack on your entire being. relax dude. i will always agree with the statement that fiction affects reality but my god they are just FICTIONAL CHARACTERS that you do not know personally and you do NOT need to go on a rampage and witch-hunt people because people say things like "i think xyz character has a different body type!" or "i think xyz character is a certain sexuality!". this especially applies to age headcanons. ages are NOT CANON, sure there are characters that appear to be older than others but ages are always up for speculation. not everyone is going to agree with your "minor coded" headcanons, dont attack and throw proshipper/pedo accusations on people who dont? id go into the infantilization of the characters who get this kinda treatment but different problem different day. point is, headcanons are headcanons and sending swarms of people after people who disagree with them is DUMB and STUPID and NOT NICE! stop doing that

in general this fandom harbors horrible mindsets and even more horrible people who i will not name and frankly its getting very frustrating seeing how the people in this fandom treat each other. have some respect for others and also yourselves. fix up your behaviors, dont make your bad attitudes everyones problem, and spend some time off the internet. have a good day yall

[tiramissyoucake]

Trying my hand at angst, I don't like this but here you go fjsjfdj

Gojo misses reader and is a mitski fan here, sfw, 1.6k words

Satoru knew he was clingy, he knows he can be overbearing with you at times and you've constantly reassured him that it's one of the many qualities you like about him; you even called it cute and compared him to a lost kitten. However, the longer you're gone, the more stressed he gets, thoughts of worry plague his head if they go unanswered for too long—how you are doing? Is everything going smoothly? Did you eat a full proper meal? Are you sleeping well? He never had to worry for long because he would get an answer the next time he sees you, which would usually be the next few hours or the next day.

When you told him about a trip you had to take out of town to visit family and stay with them for a while, he only smiled and helped you pack as anxiety rattled in his chest— as if trying to bring your attention to it. he chooses to remain silent about his worries even after you tell him you'll be gone for over a week, even if every bone in his body is telling him to trap you in his arms and beg you to stay.

Clingliness be damned, he loved you too much to remain separated from you for over a week, let alone a day.

Dread crept at the back of his mind as you explained your trip, why you were going and when will you leave and return, the entire time Satoru tried to listen his mind would wander and begin to memorise your features as you spoke— the shape of your lips, the crinkle in your eyelids, the structure of your nose, god, did he tell you look beautiful? He couldn't recall if he did today.

".. so don't expect fast replies, okay?"

The dumbfounded expression quickly took over Satoru's features as he sat up, he remembered he mentioned he would call or text you if he gets lonely but after that his brain tuned out his surroundings as if preparing itself for a week of loneliness.

".. repeat that for me, Baby? Please?"

"I said the service is pretty bad at my grandparent's place, so don't expect fast replies."

Ah. He was in hell. He had to watch and help you pack, pretend as if this didn't bother him so you wouldn't cancel for his sake, he even saw you off and kept his goodbye short; a simple kiss, hug and a promise for you to stay safe and call him if anything happens. He would have been proud of himself had he not known how lonely the house would be without you.

For the first three days, the phrase "its just under two weeks" became a mantra Satoru would mutter to himself— from the moment he opens his eyes in the morning feeling the empty space next to him, the phrase is echoed in his head. He made the mistake of preparing two cups of coffee in the beginning forgetting you were off with family, that simple mistake triggers a domino effect; it causes him to remember to contact you, he checks his phone and finds messages sent from you in the wrong order, courtesy of terrible service.

Leaving the house did nothing to alleviate the anxieties floating in his mind about you, whenever he passes by a cafe he has to purchase your favorite item off the menu, this time he had to stop himself and double back from the door remembering the meal would rot away in the fridge before your return. Spotting anything remotely related to your interests activates a knee-jerk reaction where he turns to gesture and mention it to you, looking for the spark that would light up your features in excitement— but alas, you were not here.

The days were longer, the nights were colder, Satoru's love blooms whenever he's near you, and yet now that he's alone, his heart is heavy; an overgrown garden.

The week was over. It was finally over, and yet the torture continued. You specifically told him you'd be gone for over a week— he once again repeats to himself "just under two weeks.." Satoru feels tired, and he doesn't know why. Through his meals and activities throughout the days, he would usually share them with you. He wonders if you felt the same exhaustion.

Just as his eyelids began to weigh down from the exhaustion, his phone released melodious chimes. Satoru grunted in annoyance and sat up in the cold bed, tempted to crush the phone in his hand— was he not even allowed to dream of you?

'LOML💘 Calling...'

His heart soared to his throat, everything he wanted to say to you, threatening to spill out before he even tapped the green button. He hurriedly answered and brought the phone up to his ear.

"Hello? Satoru?"

"... Baby? Can you hear me?" He immediately wanted to make sure of the call's quality. He won't be swindled by fate.

"Oh, thank god- I've been trying to get a hold of you all week! How are you? Is everything okay? I'm so sorry I couldn't contact you." He could hear chatter in the back. "I'm with my cousin. We drove out to this convenience store, and the service is pretty good!— I mean, yeah, it's a little far, but..." You took a breath, speaking too quickly for your lungs to handle."I'm so happy I get to hear your voice, Satoru..!"

everything he wanted to say, you were saying it for him, Satoru knows he's clingy but when you return his clingliness it makes him believe that he was made for you— that he was truly loved by you.

Suddenly, the stress he felt from worrying about you, the overbearing silence of loneliness, your affections pouring to him through the phone, all of these factors shattered him; a sob choked him.

".. yeah - me too..!" Satoru hiccuped as he tried to wipe away forming tears. He can't be upset now. He has to be tough for you.

You didn't miss the sniffle that followed, setting your soda down in the cup holder of the car. You sat up briefly. "Honey? What's wrong?" Your cousin silently signalled they'll return into the store, not wanting to overhear a lover's quarrel. "Did something happen?"

Satoru shook his head, forgetting you couldn't see him. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. "No - no, I'm fine.. I'm just really happy to hear from you."

Silence filled the call, a moment ago he was preparing himself to yell at you, cry to you, beg you to come home— now he didn't know what to do with himself as he had everything he wanted listening to him on the other end.

"... Hon? I'm really sorry." He hated how you knew just what to say when he began to crack. "I love you, I promise I'll be home soon, okay?"

You love him. You love him. He felt guily; he finally had a chance to speak with you, and he cried and made you feel like the bad guy, made you apologize for wanting to spend quality time with family, does he even deserve you at this point?

"... okay." Is all he can muster, Satoru always sounds so full of life— but now he just sounds defeated, as if faced with a foe that he couldn't damage or evade whatsoever. It broke your heart.

Satoru traced shapes into the covers that he practically kicked off him when he saw your nickname flash on his phone screen, he began. "Baby?"

"Hm? Yeah?"

".. when you get home, I'm gonna be more selfish with you." His tone was serious. He couldn't help but smile when he heard you laugh. "You're already selfish with me!"

"Hey, I've been very emotionally vulnerable recently, okay?" Satoru felt like the usual dynamic of your conversations is slowly seeping back. It felt right, like finding something he thought he misplaced.

"I'm not complaining, hon. I actually love it." He heard you shuffle a bit. "I think you deserve to be a little selfish. You've been so good for me lately, haven't you?"

Of course, he should've expected this from you; you're his smart girl. Of course you would notice how strained he seemed before you went on your trip.

"I thought I hid it pretty well.."

"Satoru."

".. what?" He grew wary of your unimpressed tone. He didn't slip up, did he?

"You were listening to Mitski all week." Ah, your shared music subscription gave him away.

"She perfectly puts my emotions into words, okay? So sue me!"

"I know, hon! But you were listening to First Love / Late Spring. What was I supposed to think?"

The conversation continues, from Lyricism to current routines to favourite cafe desserts. For the first time in a week, Satoru felt safe and comfortable enough to sleep.

Your conversation lulled him to a sleepy state, he could hear you shuffle and move about, he could hear the car start, your family commenting on your dynamic with him, even if the sound was minimised as the phone speaker was only moderately audible, as long as he could hear your voice then he was happy.

"So, either Wednesday or Tuesday..?" Satoru asked groggily after you explained your situation.

"Yeah - I'm hoping Tuesday, but we don't know yet, I'll drive back to the convenience store and tell you once I know." It sounded like a joke, but he knows you would do it.

"Baby- no, I can wait, I swear—"

"Can you, though?" He could hear the smile in your voice, Satoru let out a breathless laugh.

"... nah, I don't think I can."