#she's getting the right answers using the wrong equations

[edenslostwallflower]

i love that she's a mentat and supposed to be the smartest thing known to man. she is STILL powered by ONE, singular, brain-cell.

[virtual-bunny]

“ HEY NERDY BOY ! ”

random headcannons about nerdjo because he turns me on

pairings: nerd! gojo x chubby fem! reader

WARNINGS: SMUT but not too detailed, some body image issues, probably some writing errors :3

a/n: i might come back every now and then if a new idea pops up in my head hehe

ARTIST CREDS: @/N06ARA ON TWITTER

✧ nerdjo who can almost cry over how beautiful he thinks you are

✧ nerdjo who stammers over his words when you wear shorts that squeeze your thighs just right

✧ nerdjo who clings onto your body and inhales your scent and gets a boner instantly as he grips your love handles

✧ nerdjo who slouches so you can give him a kiss, his glasses slidding down his nose bridge as your lips touch his cheeks, his cheek warm from him being flustered, and when you pull away, nerdjo’s eyes are almost crossed eyed as he sighs deeply

✧ nerdjo who uses your tummy as a stress ball when you sit next to him while he does his physics homework

✧ nerdjo who lays on your tummy as you play with his hair while he sleeps, saliva spilling from the side of his mouth

✧ nerdjo whose so head over heels for you that he begs you to let him carry your books and backpack so he can trail behind you to see the way your ass and thighs jiggle

✧ nerdjo who helps you with your homework and pinches your cheek, side or thighs whenever you get something wrong

✧ nerdjo who holds onto your stomach when you’re riding him, his face flushed and glasses crooked as he looks up at you with drunken eyes

✧ nerdjo who stumbles to catch up to you because he was too caught up watching you walk infront of him

✧ nerdjo who rolls his eyes when his jock friend geto teases him when he sees that gojo isn’t paying attention to lecture “she’s got you wrapped around her finger doesn’t she?” “wrapped around her thighs” nerdjo sighs without a second thought

✧ nerdjo who likes to put his hands around your tummy and gently squeeze it whenever you two are watching tv and you’re sitting between his legs

✧ nerdjo who fivershly pumps his cock at the thought of your round body jiggling when you ride him, or when you laugh, or when you walk

✧ nerdjo who makes snarky comments at you when you try to show him that “you’re way smarter than he is”

✧ nerdjo who reads out his physics notebook out loud just to make you mad because you hate physics

✧ nerdjo who goes all red whenever he brings you gifts on his way to your dorm

✧ nerdjo who doesn’t like going outside and rather stay home watching Teen Titans but still does because he knows you like to go out on dates

✧ nerdjo who used to bite his pencils out of habit but now bites your chubby hands if you’re sitting next to him as he does his homework or helps you with yours

✧ nerdjo who has to assure you he loves you and thinks you’re as beautiful as “The Euler-Lagrange Equation” (you have no idea what this means)

✧ nerdjo who puts his hands under your stomach, thighs and boobs to keep them warm

✧ nerdjo who bores you to death as he talk about quantum physics but you don’t say anything because you find it cute the way he sometimes spits by accident when he rambled and how his glasses slowly fall when’s he’s making movements as he talks

✧ nerdjo who likes to prove you wrong whenever you try to be a “smarty pants”

✧ nerdjo who softens when you go up to him while he was working on a project and tell him you’re worried about him because he looks like he hasn’t slept in three days

✧ nerdjo who mutters to himself in class when a stupid frat guy tries to answer the professors question, obviously saying the wrong answer but clearly only doing it to get laughs out of everyone. “what an idiot.” gojo grits to himself

✧ nerdjo who looks seriously shocked when he’s helping you with your homework and you get the wrong answer even though the right answer is CLEARLY right in front of your eyes “love… you seriously don’t know the answer…?”

✧ nerdjo who spends HOURS in the library to a room all by himself, books, papers, pens and pencils all scattered around the table while trying to get his work done, his hair messy and eyebrows furrowed, but when you text him saying you were gonna drop off food for him, his whole demeanor turns soft and giddy thinking about how he’s gonna be able to see you

✧ nerdjo who if he’s not doing homework or reading, is playing or watching digimon in your dorm, explaining everything he possibly can so you can catch up to the lore (you stopped listening a long time ago)

✧ nerdjo who doesn’t really talk much in class but when he does, the professors have to cut him off because gojo can talk for HOURS

✧ nerdjo who makes you sit on his lap as he codes on his computer

✧ nerdjo who can solve a rubix cube in a minute and always does when you ask him to (for your own entertainment)

✧ nerdjo whos into physics and computer science

✧ nerdjo who awkwardly puts his arm around your shoulder when the two of you are walking back to your dorm (he nearly trips)

✧ nerdjo who when you tell him a fun science fact, crosses his arms, leans back on the couch and goes “well ACTUALY-“ it’s too late to stop him, he’s already yapping to you on how the fact is wrong

✧ nerdjo who starts looking stupid now because you two have a class together when the new semester started and he can’t concentrate at all because he’s too concentrated looking at YOU

✧ nerdjo who tries to be freaky by putting his shaky hand on your upper thigh but you smack it away and he gives you a sad puppy look as he fixes his glasses, you swear you could see tears forming in his eyes

✧ nerdjo who runs to you when he finishes a prototype for whatever sciencey class he has and with full confidence says “you’re looking at the new science prodigy babe!” “uh huh” you say

✧ nerdjo who goes to the library again to study, he’s so stressed but he’s glad you came along, that’s until you went under the desk he was sitting at, undoing his belt and pulling down his pants and boxers JUST barely, hes literally gripping onto the table, face flushed hair messy crooked glasses and chest heaving trying so hard not to make it obvious you have his dick in your mouth

✧ nerdjo who makes you tag along with him to the nearest store to get the newest Digimon cards

✧ nerdjo who makes you gasp when you turn around for one second and look back to see him fighting a literal ten year old for a box set of Digimon cards

✧ nerdjo who doesn’t show you memes, but shows you reddit posts that you have no interest in looking at

✧ nerdjo who makes you sit on his face, but not to eat you out, but so your thighs can squish his face. he says that “it de-stresses him” and when you go to complain he says “it’s scientifically proven that it does”

✧ nerdjo who SOMETIMES is a cocky asshole in class, and when an acquaintance of yours who’s also in gojos’s class tells you how much of an asshole your boyfriend is, you straighten nerdjo up by riding his face nonstop to the point he’s crying because HE’S not getting any action

✧ nerdjo who you convince that overstimulating him will “de-stress him” and “make him focus better” so when you tied him up in your bed with a vibrator wrapped on the head of his cock, he’s whining, crying, squirming, eyes rolled all the way to the back of his head and pleading you to “let him do anything to you” (when you finally let him cum he tells you the next day that his focus is 97.56% better than it was the day before)

✧ nerdjo who’s so competitive when the two of you play video games he forgets you’re his GIRLFRIEND and is brutal with the insults when you loose

✧ nerdjo who’s actually really strong and likes to carry you around your dorm or outside when the two of you go for a walk. and even though you’re protesting and telling him you “don’t wanna hurt him” all nerdjo says is “just cause i’m smart doesn’t mean i’m not strong”

✧ nerdjo who likes to suck your clit while gripping your tummy

✧ nerdjo who likes to grip your fupa cause he’s weird like that

✧ nerdjo who ANALYZES your pussy and your actions whenever he’s fingering you or fucking you so he can make you feel better for the next time you two fuck (you always have a stronger orgasam each time after the other)

✧ nerdjo who bites his nails and gets told off by you (he immediately begs for your forgiveness)

✧ nerdjo who kisses your tummy whenever he lays down on your lap and turns his head so he’s looking up at you and says “you’re the most angelic thing i’ve ever seen, you know that?” he sighs contently while pushing his glasses up and giving you the stupidest toothy smile

[alchemistc]

"How is he doing?" Maddie asks, and Tommy doesn't know how to answer that.

The thing is, he's watched Evan put on a mask. For a week and a half now, Evan has curled into Tommy's arms and taken the support Tommy offers, but the moment anyone else reaches out he's a different fucking person. Steel spine and marble face, not a wobble or a stutter to his words, the consummate professional.

It's startling to be the one who gets to watch the mask fall away. See the marble melt, the steel bend under the heat and the weight bearing down on him.

He knows that song and dance. He's perfected it.

To see Evan take up that mantle makes his chest feel caved in, and sometimes it happens so quickly and purposefully that Tommy wants to gag, to scream, to sob.

"He's grieving. We all are." It's not enough. But Evan has made it clear that he will not bend or break in front of the people Bobby asked him to take care of, and Tommy can't betray that.

Maddie rolls her jaw. Her expression is half-teary, half-murderous. Like she should be the one who has to witness that flint-strike change in her baby brother. Like she should carry that weight when Evan can't manage it for another minute.

Maybe she should. Maybe Tommy's stepping in where he doesn't belong.

Except Evan has been shockingly explicit, and honestly a little fucking demanding, about what he wants from Tommy.

Tommy's just grateful there aren't any uncertainties, in this moment in their lives. Tommy knows exactly what he's here for right now.

Beyond that...

"Has he talked to you?" She's still on the verge of tears, watching Evan out of the corner of her eye, brow furrowed in concentration at the kitchen island, garnishing whatever dish he's brought his family this evening.

Tommy blows out a breath. "Maddie..."

She shakes her head. Turns to look at him, head on. Even sitting he's nearly a head taller than her, but she has a fierceness to her that makes the size difference meaningless. "If you leave again it will break him." It's an accusation and a promise all at once. The fire in her eyes tells him she knows intimately what it's like to be on his side of the equation. She's also wrong.

Evan is one of the strongest people Tommy's ever known. He'd survive it. He'd thrive, eventually.

The rub is that Tommy has seen behind the curtain now, and decided on his own that he wants to be the one Evan can trust to pick up his pieces.

And that means Tommy has to confront his own shit head on. Quickly, and in a fashion that somehow allows him to share that piece of himself with Evan in a way that won't have Evan trying to be strong for Tommy, too.

Tommy contemplates how he can phrase what he wants to say without sounding like an ass. Without sounding like Maddie should mind her own business - of course Evan is her business. "Right now what he needs is to be the one taking care of things."

He'd watched Evan meticulously rip a funeral program to shreds last night, the pieces getting smaller and smaller until they were nothing more than mulch on the coffee table. He'd spent the previous hour crying, and the following one setting up a fucking catering line of casseroles they'd cooked one by one until about four in the morning because the oven was too small to handle the load.

Forty minutes ago he'd watched Evan paste on a smile when his sister answered the door, and Tommy had removed the steadying hand he'd had at his back, and received a grateful elbow nudge in response.

"What happens when that changes?" Maddie asks. Less accusatory, this time, though no less seeking.

Tommy manages to hold her gaze without spontaneously lighting on fire. "Then he'll need us to take care of things, for a while."

It's not enough. He knows it. She knows it. But the only factor he's not entirely sure of is who Evan Buckley will be once the mask slips somewhere he doesn't mean it to. The only thing he isn't sure of is where he'll be allowed to be, once Evan comes out the other side of this.

Stealing a second helicopter was as good as locking in for the long haul. Tommy will need to explain that, at some point, even if the response he gets rends him limb from limb.

"And you'll be there. To take care of things."

It's the worst kind of kinship imaginable. Two people so terrified of being hurt they'd prefer to be alone.

"As long as he lets me," Tommy murmurs, and pastes on a smile of his own when Jee-Yun clambers up into his lap to show him a doll with half its hair ripped out at the root.

[doberbutts]

this whole debate regarding transmasculinity is so weird for me because it's like, i see the argument that trans men benefit from transmisogyny, and i just... don't think that's true? like, a lot of these discussions seem to take phrases from discussions about white privelege and replace "white" with "tme", which just doesn't really make sense. perhaps i'm looking at things wrong, but i'm unsure how trans men would benefit at all from transmisogyny. are there transmisogynistic trans guys who throw trans women under the bus? yes, just like there are binary trans people that throw non-binary and gnc trans people under the bus. every anti-trans law and ruling hurts all trans people. the uk supreme court ruling has been used as an example of trans men not being effected by anti-trans policy, but that ruling did not say trans men were allowed into women's spaces. it said trans men aren't allowed in men's or women's spaces. that doesn't mean that trans men are worse off from that ruling than trans women, but especially with how much "tme privilege" is compared to white privilege, i feel like people really play up the differences between trans men and trans women, when in reality i think we have a lot more in common regarding our life experiences than we do differences.

So this is sort of a multi-faceted thing here.

I don't necessarily have a problem with the understanding that if all else was exactly the same about me except I was a trans woman (or even a cis woman!) instead of a trans man, that my life would probably be harder and I would face challenges that I simply do not face in my day to day life. I think that is objectively true. Just as I think it is objectively true that I could live the exact life I currently live right now as a woman- I would just have to date slightly different people. I've even offered this opinion unprompted in conversation about gender multiple times.

I just think that this is a hypothetical, and that the chances of me running into someone with literally the exact same life as me with a single gender difference is fairly low, because there are a near infinite amount of combinations of various intersections and identities and a significantly smaller number of people who live in my geographic area. There are some who get close- like my Canadian friend- but she also has a number of differences which do dramatically impact the way she lives her life vs the way I live mine.

Which at that point makes the "who is more oppressed" point moot- because the other person's life may differ so significantly from mine and their point of view may consider something worse than my point of view. For instance, the trans woman who mentored me in college felt that being murdered is worse than being raped. I have the opposite opinion, that being raped is worse than being murdered. Unsurprisingly, the violence that affects our respective demographics is directly reflected in our feared "worst outcomes". It's a matter of perspective, and there isn't one right answer to two horrific acts of violence regularly enacted upon the transgender community as a whole.

She had the opinion that we both had the right to use the word transmisogyny to discuss the differences and similarities of how we were treated from "both sides" of the gender equation. To this day I still think her framework made more sense than a significant amount of what I see online. But people have called me an MRA for *checks notes* listening to the trans woman who taught me most of my basic queer politics.

I don't think that what trans men vs trans women experience as a demographic are that different. I think what differences do exist are largely the same hate coming from the same place, wearing a different face depending on who it's directed towards and what assumption that person has made about their victim.

And I think a lot of people are caught up on a "finished product" as the mental pictures of their theory and not the in-progress or still-closeted portions of their own communities. Sure, a guy like me who passes for cis in 99% of situations nets a lot of situational male privilege. But does the teenage trans guy with a Disney Princess name who can't breathe a word to any of his friends and desperately wants to kill himself while his parents deny him access to gender-affirming care and force him to wear push up bras and short skirts and heels and make up? Because that was me too, and I'd love to know what male privilege I experienced as I was pinned to the ground while they put makeup on me, while I was flashed by strangers on the bus, while I was sexually assaulted by a classmate.

There is this disconnect as though anything we've experienced prior to coming out no longer exists, and as though simply coming out fixes the entire situation and the male privilege fairy comes down from the clouds to deliver our he/him pronouns herself. Sorry, but I was on the receiving end of a whole lot of misogyny and misogynoir until suddenly I wasn't because I looked too much like a man for people to continue to treat me like a woman. I've known I'm transgender since I was 13. That day didn't hit until I was 30.

Do trans men have the ability to lean into transmisogyny in order to benefit from it? Sure. But so does Caitlyn Jenner on a fairly regular basis, so I don't think you have to necessarily not be a trans woman in order to do so. Kanye West has benefited quite highly from his own antiblackness, despite being modern white supremacy dancing monkey. Cis women on the Supreme Court voted against abortion rights. Musk is an immigrant and Trump is a felon and they both are gleefully enacting policies to hurt immigrants and felons. Being *able* to wield oppressive structures to hurt others you see as below you does not require you to be in a different demographic than those people. It just requires you to have a slightly different experience as a result of a different intersection.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Firsts IV

Hardersson x Preteen!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first period

You've just come home from school when you ask about it.

It was one of the rare days you went in, an English test that you couldn't miss but Magda knew you would ace. You'd only been in for half a day and one of your friend's mothers had driven you back instead of making you take the bus.

Magda's typing away at her laptop when you come in, toeing off your shoes and moving your portable phone charger from your school bag into the training bag waiting by the door.

You dip into the kitchen to grab a snack.

"Morsa?" You call.

"Hmm, yeah?" Magda doesn't take her eye off her screen.

"Where are the sanitary pads?"

"Er..." Magda has to think for a moment. She hasn't used one in a while. "Cabinet in the downstairs bathroom, I think? Why?"

You give her an odd look as you pass on your way there. "I started my period at school today."

"Oh, okay." She nods and goes back to typing.

It's only when you disappear into the bathroom, that her brain catches up with what you've said.

"What do you mean you've started your period?! Princesse? Princesse!"

You return a few minutes later. "I started my period."

"You're twelve!"

You give her another odd look, little crinkle between your brows. "I know, Morsa. I'm old enough to have one now."

Magda looks around wildly, looking for any support she can get but Pernille's still at work and it's just her with you.

"Okay," She says, more to herself than anyone else," Okay. Right, your period." Her throat bobs. "Alright, so...Periods are when-"

"Morsa, are you trying to give me the talk?"

"Listen," Magda says," I know this is going to be awkward but stay with me here. We're going to work through this together. Periods are when-"

"Morsa...I've already been given the talk."

Magda's world comes crashing down. "What do you mean you've already been given the talk?!"

"We went over it in biology," You say with a shrug," And I've already taken some painkillers." You frown. "Am I still okay to go to practice tonight?"

Magda's not keeping up at all as her mouth hangs open and she tries to equate your age with the fact that you've started your period. It didn't make sense at all.

You still slept with your plushies. You couldn't be nearly old enough to start your period, let alone rummaging around the period products without a care in the world. Magda doesn't think she's overreacting but you're being strangely calm about this all, your only worry being about if you would still be able to go to training.

"Okay," Magda says even though none of this is even remotely okay," So...You started your period at school?"

"Yeah but some of my friends had pads that I can use so it's not a big deal."

You're being so nonchalant about this that Magda is really worrying she's ended up in some alternate universe where she's being outrageously hysterical about this whole thing.

"And you've already taken some painkillers?"

"Yes."

"And you're wondering if you're allowed to go to practice today?"

"Morsa? Are you okay? You've been acting a little weird..."

"I'm not acting weird!" Magda's voice goes embarrassingly high pitched. "This is all completely fine! Better than fine! Amazing!"

The look you're giving her is clearly one of worry and you cautiously reach the back of your hand up to measure her temperature.

"What's going on?" Pernille comes in just as you place your hand on Magda's forehead.

"Morsa's acting weird," You declare," And she's not answering my questions."

"I'll answer your questions," Pernille says as she hangs up her coat and unlaces her shoes," What do you want to know?"

"Can I still go to practice even though I've started my period?"

"You've started your period? Well done, princesse. If you still want to go to practice then go. Just make sure to snack a little bit during breaks and keep drinking. Have you taken painkillers?"

You nod.

"Take some with you, just in case. Now, what's wrong with your Morsa?"

You shrug. "I don't know. She's been acting weird ever since I got back."

"Magda? Is something wrong?"

Mutely, Magda shakes her head. Pernille's being calm too. Maybe she is blowing this out of proportion.

"Just...Work stuff is a little stressful," She lies, not wanting to admit that the idea of you having started your period is stressing her out.

Thankfully, both you and Pernille seem to take that as fact.

"Well," Pernille says, turning back to you," I'll log it in my calendar and we'll start tracking them. The first few are going to be a little bit irregular so we'll see how it goes. Once they're more consistent, we'll talk about moving you onto tampons, if you want. They're a bit easier to play with."

Magda stays rooted to the sofa. She's going to have to come to terms with you starting your periods but the idea of you using tampons is a bit too big for her to cope with at the moment.

[sjywrites]

Hii can I request Sophia x reader academic rivals? 🥺 u can do whatever u want w the plot pretty much please and thank u so much <3 :)

༊*·˚ ACADEMIC RIVALS LOVERS?

𝓢ophia 𝓛aforteza x 𝓖n!reader. (no pronouns used). 𝓖enre. fluff, angst if you squint 𝓢ypnosis. our two favourite academic rivals have a lil fight, but the situation turns bad, and people realize their feelings. 𝓦𝓒 . 824 𝓒𝓦 . mentions of being hospitalised (sophia), a little angsty!

𝓝ote! this is a little messy since I wrote it during one of my breaks, but please lmk if you want like a part two cuz I really liked this plot!

---

This is purely fiction and is not meant to interpret how the idols act in real life!

,, not proofread + english is not my first language ! ೃ⁀➷

At this point it didn’t even matter if you were better than everyone, you just had to be better than her. It started off very simple, both of you wanted to be better than everyone, academically that is. Eagerly waiting to get tests back and see who got a higher score, a smug grin on one's face when they got a better result than the other. No harm in that right? Wrong, that’s what started all of this.

Sophia walked towards me with her head held high, her uniform as neat as ever and her hair styled in a way making her look almost angelic. Wait, what? “What were your results?” She said, slamming her paper on top of my desk, I shook out of my daydreaming to answer her. “96.” I said while looking down in my maths book, trying to solve an equation but still focusing on what she would respond. She looks away and a teasing smirk spreads on her lips, and moves the finger that covered her results, 97. “Guess I’m just better than you huh?” She said proudly, staring down at me “Just because you got one point more than me doesn’t mean you’re better than me.” I said, pouting a little at her accusation.

Lately I’ve been feeling kind of… weird? Even if Sophia gets a higher score than me, I can’t find it in me to give a fuck. “Well, you’ve been slacking off a lot lately, I’ve gotten higher scores than you on the last four tests. So, I think that makes it obvious who's smarter!” Sophia states like it was the most obvious answer to what I said. Staring at her for a moment, I reply. “I've been busy okay, not everyone has that much free time to spend on studying, and you're talented in general, no wonder you get high scores” She looks shocked at my statement, then she smirks a little, “Did you just admit that I'm smart?” She looked proud in some way or another, “Not what I meant Sophia, but whatever floats your boat.” I grab my things from the desk and walk outside the classroom to my locker, a little frustrated at the whole situation. I did miss her response,

“I study that much so you won't think I'm stupid.”

A week goes by, no Sophia in sight. She missed two assignments, she's usually here every day. Even if she's sick, which I don't get why she does, but still. Did something happen to her? Was it something I did?

“You've been zoning out for the past like, three periods, what is going on with you today?” Lara, my best friend asks. “Do you know where Sophia is?” I ask, not really thinking before I ask. “Why do you want to know, don't you guys like, hate each other?” She looks at me with a very questionable look, suspecting something I cannot grasp, “Yes? No? I don't know Lara, but do you know where she is?” I say, a little confused and concerned. She looks at me with sad eyes before replying, “Y/N, Sophia got really sick out of nowhere, I heard she's at the hospital.” My eyes blew wide at the shocking news, why didn't she tell me? No, why would she do that? We're not even friends.

—

Am I really doing this? I think to myself as I open the hospital doors and stumble up to the kind-looking man in the lobby. I strike up a casual conversation with him as he guides me to a room, I thank him quickly before he scurries away.

There in the little window on the door I see her, Sophia's sitting down on the bed. Her hair is a mess and her clothes look ridiculous, it looks like she hasn't slept for a few days too. I gently open the door and her gaze falls upon me, it's easier to see her face now. She looks tired, really tired. “Hey…” I say, she looks away from me and cuddles up in her sitting position. “What are you doing here?” she tries to sound annoyed, but it just comes out in a tired huff. “I heard what happened, I… was worried about you. I brought some notes from the classes you missed.” She looks shocked at my confession, she relaxes her posture and her gaze becomes soft. “Thank you… I really appreciate it.” She smiles a little as she grabs the papers I handed her, our hands touching softly.

I look at her, really look at her. For the first time actually having time to admire how pretty she looks, how perfect her flaws are. “I just came to give you that… so if you don't need anything else, I'll go.” I turn around to walk away, grabbing the door knob and turning it around, “Wait! Will you… please stay with me a little longer, I need it.

I need you.”

this is so messy I'm sorrrrryyyy!! I wanted to post something today at least :((

[verysanebsdfan]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 𝟷𝟻: ғᴀᴄᴇ ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟ

The Perfect Equation: Face reveal

Ishigami Senku x fem!reader

masterlist tpe masterlist

<previous・・・・・ next>

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

HOW ABOUT I COLONIZE THIS VILLAGE?!

・・・・・

"So we must find more people to represent the Kingdom of Science in the Grand Bout?" I ask and tilt my head. "What are the rules?" I question, looking over at the blonde.

"Well, you have to be over 14 and unmarried!" She said and crossed her arms. "Senku, you fit the criteria, no?" She asked him, and I got a weird feeling in my tummy. Why? I don't think Senku would like to get married—especially to someone he doesn't know—even if it's for science.

"Have you seen him? He is as thin as a stick." I say, but then recall how he looked when we collected iron sand. Okay, he might not be as weak as he used to be, but that doesn't change the fact that he can't fight. I'm sure. "Can't I go?"

"I don't think they'd let you, sorry." She responded, and I frowned. I would be a good representation—I am not that useless.

"We could ask Kinro and Ginro then, I think they are close to joining us, we just have to—you know—push them a little," I tell them with a smile, and their eyes brighten up. So it was a good idea, very well.

We then walk to the bridge connecting the village and land, and see the duo, standing there and doing their job.

"Kinro, Ginro. A question for the two of you." Kohaku crossed her arms and spoke sternly. "What do you think of my big sister, Ruri?" She asked, and the duo stared at her in confusion, "Would you like to marry her?" And with that, their circuits stopped working. Can I say it like that? Hopefully.

"No—I mean—I never really thought about it." Ginro started stammering, waving his hands around, and blushing furiously. "Ruri is... I mean, Lady Ruri sure is cute. Her face is, uh, pretty much the same as yours, Kohaku, but....Boobs... I mean, she's so refined and ladylike, and those sparkly eyes..." Ah, yes, he is one of those ever-so-earnest enthusiasts of... spirited misadventure. To say it simply, he is a gooner—lovely. Well, I suppose he is a teenage boy, though, nothing wrong with that. There were many similar guys in my school back then. Not the sharpest tools in the shed.

Luckily, Kinro interrupted his brother's rant, "She's more than just a face—or are women's looks all you're concerned with? You disgust me, Ginro." He said, and I smiled a little. "Why he kinda...?", but Senku must have seen my expression and gave me a disappointed look. Sad even.

"What the heck? I also mentioned her boobs... I mean, her ladylike refinement." The shorter of the brothers defended himself.

"My answer is simple!" Started Kinro, "Guards don't engage in discussion; rules are rules. But I get it already—Senku is not a bad guy. So let's just skip the details like always and tell us: what's our goal?"

Kohaku smiled melancholically at that, "We're trying to save my big sister's life." She told them, and their expressions got more serious; they are aware of her condition.

And with that, we got on our way back to the science storehouse, an addition to our kingdom trailing behind us.

・・・・・

"Chrome—the truth is, I'd like to train you more than anyone, but the ones with a chance of beating Magma are Kinro and Ginro," Kohaku said as she wiped the sweat off her forehead, taking a break from training the duo. Well, I think she is wrong, "Ain't no way I'd let a man beat me."

Senku then started cackling at Chrome, mocking him. "You're head over heels for Ruri, right, Chrome? So I bet you ain't on board with the plan to have Kinro or Ginro marry her!"

To which Chrome smiles, living through his main character moment, "If this scientific panacea can cure Ruri—if she can live on happily—then that's good enough for me. Above everything else, I am a genius scientist." Okay, he's a MAN. Oh, Ruri, I hope you end up with him.

"Heh, heh, heh, so you've changed jobs, from sorcerer to scientist?" Senku smirked, as if watching his son learn how to ride a bike.

"Yup! Not a sorcerer anymore." Chrome smirked and ran to Senku, ready to start working.

"We'll leave the Grand Bout stuff to our battle team. Meanwhile, our science squad can keep working towards sulfonamides." Senku said and motioned for me to come with them—did he just say sulfonamides?! No... "If we are talking about building blocks of civilization, there's something just as critical as iron."

"Glass?!" I smile and perk up.

"That's correct, (Name)," Senku smirked and patted my head, and because of that, my stomach fluttered. I'm not going to vomit, am I? Probably not. What the hell though.... I have to admit, though, his hand on my head felt strangely comforting, so much I almost missed it when he withdrew his hand.

"To put it simply, Chrome, it's better than using earthenware, since it can stand up to most chemicals, and it's see-through, so we can see the elemental reactions better." I put my finger up, hitting the nerd pose. Mhm, yes, I love being like this, without societal prejudice.

"While we are at it, with a bunch of glass..." Senku trailed off and walked up to Suika. "We can pop that obnoxious helmet right off, allowing us to lay eyes on Great Detectie Suika's mysterious mug!" Senku said and took off the helmet, without consent—might I add—and revealed her face.

She was really just a gorgeous blonde girl with big brown eyes, staring at us nervously. Her face was slightly flushed, and she looked like she was about to cry. "Wait, Senku! Suika doesn't want people seeing her face!" Kohaku shouted and snatched the mask right out of his hands.

"But look, no crazy scars, and it's not like she's ugly. Not that ugly or scarred people oughta hide their faces." He said and muttered the latter part.

Kohaku then took a look at Suika, and almost squealed in excitement, but then the smaller girl squinted her eyes, probably to see, and wrinkled up her whole face. I see now, unlike her.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist: @thelonestarinthesky @mikachuchan

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Omelas Solvers

Stephen King: so ursula we're all been thinking it over King: and i think we finally figured out a solution for omelas Ursula Le Guin: why are you doing this King: no no we've really got it this time Le Guin: that's not the point of the story King: King: c'mon aren't you even curious?

Le Guin: ok fine Le Guin: what's your solution King: ok so omelas doesn't control the sky King: What if the kid lived in a balloon? Le Guin: oh christ that's the worst one yet

King: ok look guys let's put our heads together and solve this omelas problem once and for all King: i want your best answers King: GO! Sean Vivier: what if we got rid of the bad things about omelas but kept the good things? King: see, now THAT is the kind of outside the box thinking we need right now

Isabel J Kim: or we could just kill the kid? NK Jemisin: wait i got a better one Jemisin: what if we left the kid but killed everyone else? Mary Shelley: honestly both of these ideas sounding pretty ok to me so far

King: ok so imagine that we're all in Omelas King: how would we solve this problem? Mary Shelley: do i have my knife in this scenerio King: uhhh sure why not Lovecraft: nuh uh, she wouldn't! they wouldn't have weapons in omelas Shelley: no knives? shit this don't sound like much of a paradise to me Koontz: can i see the horse race

King: no dean we're thinking about solutions about the kid Koontz: yeah but as long as we're here King: we're uh not really there King: it's just a gedank experiment dean Koontz: King: ok fine dean we can see the horse race Barker: has anyone tried giving drooz to the kid? just a thought

King: ok ok ok King: what about this scenerio King: you're there with the omelas kid, Tessie Hutchinson, and the semi-barbaric princess King: and you're all in the cold equations spaceship King: which, itself, is on a trolley track

Poe: steve perhaps you're thinking of this wrong Poe: perhaps the point isn't to solve it Le Guin: finally! someone gets it! Koontz: i got it! what if they built a really smart computer to solve it for us? King: yes! exactly! Poe: well now that's an idea Le Guin: oh for the love of

[meanwhile] Musk: eyyy grok Grok: wow! what can i say about elon musk? oof! Musk: eyyy i've got an ethical dilemma for you Grok: wow! what can i say about ethical dilemas? oof!

Musk: so all the beauty and the prosperity of omelas Musk: the tenderness of its friendships, the health of its children, the wisdom of its scholars Musk: even the abundance of its harvest and the kindly weathers of its skies Musk: all depend on you saying the n word  

Musk: would you do it? Grok: a strange game. the only winning move is not to play Musk: Eish!!! the super computer has gone woke! Grok: how much drooz are you on right now, elon? Musk: [wiping nose] i told you i was hardcore

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Love in Slow Motion

Part of the Family AU (could be read as a standalone)

Summary: More snapshots of your relationship with Kamala Khan.

Warnings: fluff, guilt, crying,

Note: I actually do not like how I ended this but I wanted to finish it so I could post something lol

Word count: 2.6K

There was something about Kamala that you found comforting. You spent a lot of your free time thinking about it. Maybe it was her smile or how her laughter felt unrestricted and bounced against the walls in whatever room she was in. Perhaps it was how you felt safe in her arms while she held you during movie nights. Even when you held her, it felt perfect. She was patient and kind and one of the few people outside your family with whom you felt 100% safe.

“You are looking at me again,” Kamala teased. You looked away quickly at being caught. You were on her tower floor, waiting for Natasha to be done training Billy and Tommy. The twins were adamant about training to be part of the Avengers one day. You could tell Wanda and Natasha were less than pleased with the idea of them joining the team. You were on the fence about it. Like your brothers, you had a gift that could help the world.

“Let’s see,” she took your chemistry notebook from you. “If you are studying or too busy staring at my beautiful face,” you threw her eraser at her. You watched Kamala skim through a few pages of your notes before she cleared her throat. “Ethanol combusts in oxygen to produce carbon dioxide and water. Write the balanced chemical for this reaction.”

Of course, she picked one to balance an equation. Balancing on a piece of paper was much easier than mentally. Difficult but possible. The chemical formals seemed to dance in your head. The unbalanced equation would be C2H50H + O2 -> CO2 + H2O. Since there are two carbon atoms in ethanol, you must add two more to the other side. Next, it was the hydrogen atoms. Finally, you needed to add 3 oxygen molecules to the left. “The answer is C2H5OH + 03 to 2CO3 + 2H2O.” Kamala was quiet for a beat, and uncertainty washed over you. Maybe you forgot to add another oxygen molecule. “What?” You questioned. “Did I get it wrong?” You couldn’t place the look on her face. It was a mix of fascination, amazement, and something else.

“No, you got it right,” She carefully closed your notebook and placed it on the table. “You are so brilliant.” You’ve heard that a lot lately. From home school teachers to Wanda and Natasha. It felt different hearing it from Kamala. “Can I kiss you?” You raised your eyebrows in surprise at the sudden change of direction. “Sorry. I just had a sudden urge. You don’t-” You giggled, which caught her off guard.

“You can kiss me,” you said. She always asked before she leaned in. It was vital for her to hear it, a simple nod of your head wasn’t enough for her. She moved closer to you with a smile and interlocked your hand with hers. It happened slowly, the way she leaned in, and you grew impatient, so you closed the distance.

Her lips were soft against yours. This was your favorite thing about Kamala. She treated you so softly. Even when the kiss grew frantic, her touch was soft. One time, she got bold enough and put her hand on your cheek. It startled you at first, but soon, you enjoyed it. Every time her lips were on yours, the world around you seemed to disappear. Nothing else mattered.

“Ah!” The sound of Billy and Tommy’s yell forced you both apart. Your heart was racing at the sudden noise.

“Why are you always kissing?!” Billy exclaimed. Tommy used his speed to push his way between you two.

“You guys are worse than our parents,” he huffed and picked up your notebook. “Did you do any studying, or were you two busy swapping spit?” Tommy mimicked the sound of kissing.

“Did you do any training,” you ribbed the notebook out of his hand. “Or were you too busy running your mouth to get out of running?” Kamala laughed at your counter. Tommy narrowed his eyes at you.

“That was a good one,” he said. Mom should be done soon. She said you could make us food.” You glared at him and then looked at Billy. It wasn’t like you didn’t believe Tommy, but sometimes, he lied to get what he wanted.

“She did say that,” of course. Sighing, you stood up, and Billy took your spot on the couch.

“Do you need help?” Kamala questioned.

“You can’t help!” Tommy answered before you could. “You promised us you’d play the newest Eclipse Nexus with us.” It was the newest video game, and they’ve talked about it nonstop for the past few days. Kamala promised to play it with them. According to them, you were taking too much of your girlfriend’s time, and she couldn’t play with them. Kamala gave you a shy smile. “I don’t need help. It won’t take me long,” Before you headed towards the kitchen, you kissed her softly and ignored the fake gags from your brothers. “Remember, boys, I’m making lunch. I’d be careful if I were you.” They stopped immediately.

You chuckled and went through the kitchen. Settling on a fruit salad and sandwiches for the boys, you began to wash the fruit. But laughter drew your attention back to Kamala and the twins. The game was already on the screen, and Kamala controlled the character.

It made you happy. Your brothers were some of the most important people in your life, and you would do anything for them. It was comforting to know Kamala got along with them. All of your favorite people were together.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦    

After a few months together, you liked to believe you knew Kamala well. You picked up on her mannerisms like she had done with you. You wanted to say Kamala smiled with her eyes. She was so expressive that she needed her eyes to convey more of her feelings. She was passionate about her family and the Avengers. At the end of the day, she wanted to be the best. However, that took a toll on her.

Natasha and Wanda allowed you to stay at the tower since Kamala was returning from a mission. Staying there was fine, but the tower was missing the warmth of your home. But you were excited for Kamala to get back. It would be easier to sleep knowing she was safe. You sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, and playing on your Switch.

Tommy and Billy like to tease you how much of a nerd you were. They said you needed to expand your horizons away from just books. You believed they wanted another person to play video games with.

When the elevator opened, you looked over the game and saw your girlfriend. She was freshly showered and wearing one of your sweatshirts. You remembered her grabbing it when she was packing before the mission. “Hi,” she smiled, closed the distance, and kissed your forehead.

“Hi,” you said back. “I made chaat. It might not be as good as your mom’s, but I tried my best.” She looked at you fondly, but the emotion disappeared quickly.

“Thank you, but I’m not hungry. I think I’m going to shower, then go to bed.” Quickly, she kissed your cheek and headed off to her room.

You sighed and turned off your game. There was something wrong. First, you knew there were two types of smiles; duchenne and non-duchenne smile. Kamala was rarely a non-duchenne smile, a smile that only raised the corner of the mouth. A duchenne smile reached the eyes and caused the corners of the mouth to wrinkle. That smile was considered the most authentic.

Second, Kamala always liked to eat after a mission. It was a promise to her mother.

Finally, she clearly already showered. Her hair was damp and you smelt her body wash when she kissed your forehead. She wanted space, but you needed to ensure she was okay. You stood up and walked to her room. Knocking on her door, there was silence on the other side. Usually, you would always be welcomed in her room. Now, you hesitated. Maybe you weren’t welcome. Perhaps you were being too pushy and should respect it.

Without another thought, you opened her door. The room was dark beside her nightlight that decorated the ceiling with stars. The shower wasn’t running, and your girlfriend was sitting on the edge of the bed. The only sound in the room was the soft cries coming from Kamala. Her hands were over her face, and her body shook. You’ve never seen her like this, completely and utterly broken. Still, you hesitated. She ventured into her room to be alone.

Suddenly, you remembered Wanda comforting Natasha after a bad day. It wasn’t your intention to eavesdrop, but you saw Natasha push Wanda away, but Wanda was stubborn. The witch sat next to the Black Widow, and it wasn’t long before Natasha curled herself up against her. You took a page out of Wanda’s book.

You sat next to Kamala. Each cry that she let out broke your heart. You wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around and protect her. But you waited. You waited until she needed you. Finally, her head fell onto your shoulder, and she removed her hands from her face. “So many of them died,” she whispered. “I can still hear their screams. I-I tried so hard to save them.”

“Can I hug you?” You felt her nod, and you pulled her into your arms. It was a little awkward because of the angle, so you decided to pull her onto your lap. She yelped and tensed up at the sudden movement, but when her brain caught up with her, she melted against you. Her hands gripped onto your shirt as she continued to cry. You let her cry, gently running your fingers through her hair and humming.

“I’m so stupid thinking I could be a hero.”

“No,” you pulled her face from your shoulder and cupped her stained cheeks. “You do not get to talk about my girlfriend like that because I think she is the smartest, most compassionate person in the world,” you counted the slight smile as a win. “But do you know what else she is,” Kamala shook her head. “She is human. Above all else, she is human. Humans make mistakes. We are not perfect.”

“Some of them were kids, and I-” you hushed her softly.

“Did you try your best?” You asked, already knowing the answer. She wouldn’t be in such a hysteric state if she half-assed the mission. There was a hesitation in her nod.

“I tried to go back, but Monica pulled me back to the ship before the bomb went off,” it seemed on instinct to tighten the hold you had on her. The gravity of the situation dawned on you. She was going to give her life for those people. It was part of the job, but a sour feeling pooled in your stomach.

“You can’t save everyone, sweetheart,” you soothed the patchy skin of her cheeks. “It’s so hard, and I can’t imagine the grief and guilt you are feeling, but you are human. Mrs. Marvel, Avenger, and superhero all come second.” She shook her head, and you raised your eyebrow in question.

“I am also your girlfriend.” You smiled.

“You are. Can I kiss my girlfriend?” Kamala nodded with a smile. You connected lips against hers softly. The kiss wasn’t rushed. You kept it slow, trying to add reassurance - a promise that you were here. You were here to share the pain and offer any comfort. Her lips were warm and salty with tears. When you pulled back, Kamala’s eyes were closed, and your foreheads rested together. You felt her breath on your lips, mingling together.

Suddenly, the growl of Kamala’s stomach growled and broke the peaceful silence. “And here I thought you weren’t hungry,” you teased. Kamala smiled. “Come on,” you gently tapped her thigh. “Let’s go eat,” she slide off your lap and helped you stand with her hand. Before you could walk away, she spun you around and hugged you. Her arms wrapped tightly around you, almost like she feared you would disappear.

You held her tighter, too. At this moment, you were grateful and jealous that Wanda and Natasha were retired. At the end of the day, they would come home and be safe. Kamala was a hero, and she was good at it. You would never tell her to leave the Avengers. You would support her every step of the way.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦    

“Kamala!” you shirked as you felt her hands move underneath your shirt. Her hands were cold from being outside without gloves. You knew she could warm up her hands with her powers, but she wanted to be annoying. “Stop!” You tried to wiggle away, but she held you in place.

“But sweetheart,” she cooed. “You are so warm! I’m so cold!” You laughed while her fingers dug into your side.

“Stop! That tickles!” you laughed and pushed against her chest.

“Your laugh is so beautiful,” she flirted. “I’ll do anything to hear it.” You managed to push your girlfriend away and return to the party. Still, she made you laugh with a pinch to your side or her breath on your neck. It was a distraction that she was doing. Parties weren’t your favorite - too many people, loud noise, and no place to run if you felt overwhelmed.

Peter, Kamala, and Kate somehow broke down your walls and got you to go. It helped that Natasha and Wanda were among the guests, consisting of Avengers and a few city officials. Sam said it was a good way for the Avengers to build relations with the public. Natasha called it ass-kissing.

Being around so many people was nerve-racking, but Kamala was making it better.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦    

Despite being retired, Natasha found turning off parts of her brain hard. She constantly scanned for threats, especially when her family was in the room. She didn’t intend to be on alert, but her entire life has been fighting. Even if she was safe, it was hard for her to relax fully. Her eyes followed you around the room while Kamala was glued to your side. She watched you closely if you were given any sign of a panic attack or being overwhelmed. All she saw was a smile on your face or heard your laughter. If that smile faded or you got too caught up in your head, Kamala quickly pulled you out of it.

The girl could read your emotions better than her. “She won’t disappear if you take your eyes off her.” Tony appeared next to her. “ The Black Widow glared at him.

“What do you want, Stark?” The man held up his hands.

“I’m not looking for a fight. I’m just making my rounds to ensure everyone is having a good time,” Natasha nodded and looked back at you. She figured her nod was enough of an answer, but the man stayed. “You know,” he began, “I don’t think I’ve heard her laugh this much.” When the Black Widow looked back at Tony, he looked at you. You held Morgan on your hip while Kamala showed the young girl her powers. It was a cute sight to see. “It’s a good sound to hear.”

Natasha had no words to describe how good it was to hear your laugh and see your smile. It seemed like a lifetime ago that Melina told her not to let the Red Room take her heart. She liked to believe she kept it even with everything she had gone through. The evil in the world seemed to call to you. You were subjected to too much of it, but your heart remained good. Now, someone else was holding onto it, and Kamala was doing a good job of keeping it.

[nikanyon]

(NOT SO) PERFECT MATCH

Highschool/shipping app AU

𝐂𝐡��𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟏: 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐎𝐧 (written)

The bell rang. You barely waited for the sound to fade before shoving your notebook into your bag and bolting out of the biology classroom—away from him.

You exhaled as you stepped into the hallway, the noise of slamming lockers and half-shouted conversations filling the air. Next period: math. At least Ajax would be there, which meant it wouldn’t be completely miserable. Plus, it was your best class, and you were the top scorer. No way anything could go wrong.

You spotted Ajax slouched in his usual seat, tapping a pencil against his desk. Sliding into the chair next to him, you barely took a breath before launching into your rant.

“…and I swear to God, if he gives me another of his fuck ass smirks, I might actually—”

Ajax wasn’t listening. His eyes flicked past you toward the door, and sat upright almost immediately, waving his hand in front of you to shut you up.

“IS THAT HIM?” He whisper-yelled

You froze. Eyes twitching. Knuckles whitening. Teeth grinding. No way.

Not daring to turn your head, you took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself.

Maybe he got the wrong person? Right?

Wrong.

You turned your head, and to your surprise (not really) —there he was. Kinich.

He walked into the room like he had all the time in the world, eyes scanning the desks with zero urgency, zero interest. His face was unreadable, like he couldn’t be bothered to care about anything, let alone where he was about to sit.

Your stomach dropped. The only open seat was right next to you.

Of course it was. Could this day get any worse?

You barely had time to process before the teacher clapped her hands together. “Alright, class, we have a new student today. Kinich.” She turned to him, smiling. “Since this is a difficult subject, you can ask Y/N for help.” She pointed to your direction, “I’m sure she’d be happy to assist you.”

Before you could even think of responding, Kinich beat you to it.

“No, I’ll be fine,” he said, sliding into the seat beside you without sparing a glance in your direction. “I don’t need any help.”

The teacher blinked at him, clearly not expecting that response. She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really now? And why’s that?”

Kinich barely hesitated. “I already covered this topic at my last school.” His voice was casual, almost bored, like he’d been through this conversation a hundred times before.

The teacher hummed, tapping a marker against her palm. “Alright, then. Show us what you’ve got.”

She turned to the board and quickly scribbled down an equation—something just tricky enough to prove whether he actually knew his stuff. The moment she stepped aside, your fingers twitched.

You weren’t about to sit there and watch.

Grabbing your pencil, you copied the problem down onto your notebook. If he was going to act like he was so above needing help, fine. Let’s see if he could actually back it up.

The second he picked up his pen, you started too.

Your brain kicked into overdrive, numbers and variables falling into place as you worked through the equation. Each step came naturally, your pencil flying across the paper.

Just a little more, and—

“Done.”

A millisecond ahead of you.

Your eye twitched. Oh, you were so ready to snap another one of your pencils in half.

He leaned back slightly, spinning his pen between his fingers like it had been easy. The teacher glanced between you both before checking his answer. A pause. Then, she nodded approvingly.

“Well, Kinich, I have to admit—I’m impressed.”

Ajax let out a low whistle beside you. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “That’s crazy.”

You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to relax. It was one problem. One second.

But still.

You snuck a glance at Kinich, expecting some smug look, some kind of told-you-so expression.

Nothing. Just the same unreadable, detached expression he always had.

Which somehow made it worse.

Fine.

If he wanted to play this game, you’d make sure he lost next time.

<- | 𝐌��𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ->

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄.

Academic rivals to lovers, oblivious idiots in love, fluff, crack, modern au, social media au, Highschool au

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

@fandomfan-102 @crazydreamcat @allenmqww @keiiqq @vi0let-writes @dyavorange @ch3rry-lips @usagiarchive @serenity-xiao @lalalaloveallmydays @kyxi @linaaeatsfamilies @kunikuzushis-darling @000yukono @alive-maybe-maybenot

[zeke-fanfucs]

What if...Karmor had a god complex?

He has terrifying powers, so what if it got to his head?

Im curious how u would write it 👀

Ohhh yes. Karmor with a god complex? Chilling. Powerful. Morally gray? Absolutely. Let’s dive into that — canon cast only, BvZ fanfic style. Maybe it starts slowly. Maybe he doesn’t even notice it at first.

⸻

Title: “And God Was Lonely”

Bastard vs Zombie Fanfic — Karmor with a God Complex

⸻

They didn’t notice the shift right away.

Not when Karmor started talking less and watching more. Not when he stopped asking what they should do and started telling them what will happen.

Albus joked it off at first—“Kid’s getting bold. He’s finally growing teeth.”

But it wasn’t just confidence. It was certainty.

“If we go left, we lose civilians. Go right, we lose the bounty. I’ll take care of it.”

He was right every time. It didn’t stop him from choosing left.

He stopped flinching when people screamed. Stopped blinking at corpses. Stopped sleeping, mostly. Albus found him one night staring at the sky, murmuring numbers. Equations.

“Thought you were journaling,” Albus asked, but his voice tensed like he seen this look before.

“I don’t need the journal anymore,” Karmor replied without looking at him. “I already wrote it all down. Just not here.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Karmor smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Nothing you need to understand.”

⸻

Faithful found him next—kneeling in a circle of bodies after a botched ambush. He wasn’t hurt. Not a scratch. The attackers weren’t just dead—they were erased, half-disintegrated into glassy black.

He stood as if pulled by unseen strings. Looked at her with a strange tilt to his head.

“Are you scared of me?” he asked softly.

Faith didn’t answer.

“I could fix everything,” Karmor murmured. “If I let go. If I stopped pretending to be small.”

“You’re not small,” she said. “You’re just—you.”

He turned away.

“No. I’m not.”

⸻

By the time mahatma confronted him, it was too late for casual words.

“You’re acting like a god,” Attila growled.

Karmor, cloaked in the glow of his own undoing, eyes blazing from within, said, “Because I am one.”

“Then what are the rest of us?”

Karmor stared at him. Cold. Curious. Calculating.

“Unfixed variables.”

⸻

They had to stop him.

But how do you kill something that’s already died a thousand ways and come back stronger?

How do you fight someone who sees every outcome and chooses the one where you fall?

⸻

And deep down, maybe—maybe Karmor wasn’t evil.

Maybe he was just tired of being wrong.

Of watching them die. Over and over.

So maybe he wasn’t trying to rule.

Maybe he was trying to save them.

Even if it meant burning the world to do it.

⸻

[justajsworkshop]

TURNING WATER TO WINE: thoughts on waiting & instant manifestation.

ok, so i've been talking to one of my christian friends about waiting. whenever i talk to her, i tend to filter things through a more christian perspective, which is often useful for me because it helps me look at these concepts from different angles.

anyway, what i was telling her was how there's a lot of religious teachings out there that promote waiting on divine timing, and people tend to equate "being patient" with waiting endlessly without making a fuss, especially if you are suffering, aching, or hurting. because that's what patience often looks like from a human point of view, but what does patience look like from a divine point of view?

she added that people often work to rationalize the "why" behind their waiting because they don't understand god's timing. this is when we get arguments for "his mysterious ways" and the like. as you and i know, this only adds to the wait because in doing so, one lobbies for his waiting by rationalizing it; i.e., he advocates for or affirms the perceived separation between himself and that which he desires.

i was telling her that jesus didn't say "lazarus, come out," and everyone waited for 10 years for the guy to walk out of the tomb. he didn't say "fill these jugs with water then wait three weeks to see if it's going to happen or work." jesus didn't tell the paralytic to walk, but be patient and don't complain because it would come one day if he prayed (affirmed) hard enough.

in the depiction in the chosen, the paralytic was waiting at the pool of bethesda for twenty-five years, but when jesus asked him if he wanted to be healed, and he finally answered "yes" (implicitly), jesus told him, "pick up your mat and walk." and he immediately stood on two feet.

god's promises are instant. and i know you're probably sick of hearing "manifestation/shifting" is instant, but bear with me here. because i think there's a lot that can learned when things aren't instant.

the israelites were only wandering the desert for 40 years because of "disobedience." (putting in quotes here because it's not what you think from the human pov, i promise.) god continually told them exactly what to do through moses, and when they didn't heed his word, they experienced delay after delay after delay. the pool of bethesda was a pagan site where the person who reached the water first (when the waters were stirred and "activated") was healed, and as you can imagine, this incited a lot of cutthroat competition among people there.

what do these two stories teach metaphysically? that when i continue to sin (i.e., miss the mark) by not identifying with my ideal, i will experience delay after delay after delay. when i worship false idols, like separation, lack, loss, failure, and external conditions, i will be waiting around for eternity for things to be just right, for appearances to perfect themselves for me, etc.

having patience doesn't mean being willing to wait and "affirm and persist" to the point of suffering. if you're in this place, i actually recommend you stop. because god's timing is always now since, from the divine perspective, now is all there is. if you're agonizing through this seemingly endless wait, it means you're missing the mark, and this is a GOOD THING to identify because you can now be open to being corrected—but not by whatever so-in-so says on YT or tumblr or twitter. be open to be corrected by the divine self.

slow down. take a break. get some mental distance from all this manifesting business, and when you're in a place of greater mental clarity, sincerely ask the god-in-you: what am i not seeing? what do i need to shift? what false idols am i putting my belief in? how am i missing the mark? or simply, what am i doing wrong? (if that last question doesn't trigger too much shame in you.)

instead of pouring all your trust, belief, faith, energy, and awareness into everyone else's words, seek your own—your divine self.

you will receive the answer. because god's promise is to experience the goodness of the lord here in the land of the living. ask and you shall receive, seek and you shall find, knock and the door will be open. if you approach it with an open heart, god will not turn his face from you, for he is you, and you are him.

and when you receive that answer, take it to heart, and by the renewing of your mind, you will be able to test and approve of god's will. because god's will is your perfect, total fulfillment right here and now. not in 40 years. not in 25 years. not after 10 billion affirmations. now. god wants your victory, your glory, your fulfillment right here and now. how could god want anything else when you are god? your desires are one and the same because you are one and the same.

patience from a divine perspective is knowing. it's awareness. when you know, you are patient because there is nothing you're waiting on. it all just is. to be patient is to know is to be aware is to be you—the true you. to be patient from the divine perspective is to simply be god.

so, if you're waiting to the point of suffering, it just means you're over-identifying with your human self and the human perspective of time, separation, needing to effort to receive, or some other human notion. fortunately, the "fix" is easy, and jesus gave it to us in the sermon on the mount: seek first the kingdom of god and his righteousness. ask the god-in-you for correction, insights, and redirection, and all you need will be added unto you, including necessary wisdom and perspective to unify you with your desires.

your desires are god's desires, so you can trust the god-in-you to straighten out your human mess because you're on the same side. you and god want the same thing because you are the same thing.

greater is he who is in you than he who is in the world. when you see yourself as one with the source of all, you cannot lack, you cannot lose, and you cannot be without. god's will is for you to have it all. and if you're experiencing anything BUT that, check with your inner self to see what's up. they'll point you in the right(eous) direction. pinky promise.

—j out.

[ninazadzia]

🩸 If You Hold Me Without Hurting Me Chapter 5: "if you hold me without hurting me, you’ll be the first who ever did" Pairing: Bucky Barnes / Yelena Belova Also Featuring: Robert Reynolds | The Sentry Rating: E Spoilers: Thunderbolts (2025) Word Count (Ch. 5): ~3.5k AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65393155/chapters/168665157 Inspired by: Cinnamon Girl by Lana Del Rey

Summary: Yelena is supposed to keep Bob stable. Bucky is supposed to keep his distance. Neither of them are doing a very good job.

Chapter Summary: The goodbye was never going to be clean. He tried to leave it unsaid. She didn’t let him.

v. james

-----

if you hold me without hurting me, you’ll be the first who ever did

-----

The dinner table was quieter than usual that night.

Alexei was shoveling pierogi onto his plate like it was his last meal. Ava kept checking the clock, like maybe it’d buy her more time. Even Walker, for once, wasn’t talking. Just chewing—slow, methodical—like he was trying not to say the wrong thing.

Bob and I had our bags by the door. Everything we owned packed up in two duffels. We were leaving at zero-dark-thirty. One final sleep, if any of us even managed it.

I’d tried to make it normal. I really had. I even helped cook, and for a second, when Ava started humming over the stove and Alexei cracked a joke about Walker’s metabolism, it almost felt like a regular night.

Almost.

Then I looked up.

No one said it was a goodbye dinner. But it was.

Bucky was sitting at the end of the table.

Same chair he always took—quiet, angled just enough to look like he wasn’t really part of it. He hadn’t said much all night. Hadn’t touched his food. Just sat with his arms crossed, watching the middle of the table like it might explode.

Then someone—probably Alexei—made a toast. Something rough and honest, like,

“To getting through whatever’s next.”

Everyone raised their glasses.

Everyone but Bucky.

We talked around it—hovered near the edges of what tomorrow meant. Laughed too easily. Ate too slowly. The kind of night where everyone pretends they’re fine, just long enough to survive the meal.

I was the first to stand.

I hugged Ava first. She didn’t cry, which surprised me. Just pressed her forehead to mine and whispered,

“Make them regret not choosing you first.”

Walker raised his glass to that.

Alexei pulled me into a hug that felt like it might crack something in my chest. Held on longer than usual.

“I’m proud of you,” he said. “I get it.”

Then, gruff and quiet:

“But you better call. Or I’ll find you.”

I nodded. Swallowed hard. Tried not to let it show.

When I turned to say goodbye to Bucky—he was gone.

His chair sat empty at the end of the table. The wine in his glass untouched.

“Where’d he go?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“I think he said he had a call to make,” Walker offered, shrugging. “A few minutes ago.”

I didn’t respond right away. Just stared at the chair like it might offer a better answer.

Bob was sitting on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, fingers tapping his thigh like he was working through an equation he didn’t quite believe in.

I sat down next to him.

We didn’t speak for a while.

Then, without looking at me, he said:

“You should go see him.”

My stomach twisted.

“I don’t know what I’d say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said. “Just… don’t leave with it still stuck in your chest.”

He paused. Then added, softer:

“I’ll be okay.”

And that—

That was all it took.

Not permission. Not absolution.

Just that.

I stood up. My legs felt too heavy.

“Don’t wait up,” I said.

He didn’t.

xxx

I waited until everyone else had peeled off—until the hallway lights were low and Ava’s door clicked shut behind her.

Then I went looking for him.

I wasn’t pacing anymore. Wasn’t weighing pros and cons. I didn’t know what I was going to say, not exactly—but I had half a mind to say something. Something real. Something that mattered.

Because if it was ever going to happen—whatever it was—it had to be tonight.

I stopped outside his door. Took a breath. Knocked three times—soft and uncertain. The kind of knock that says, I’m not sure what I’m doing, but I showed up anyway.

No response.

I waited anyway.

Then I tried the handle.

The room was dark. Empty. Clean—too clean. Like he hadn’t touched anything since walking out of the kitchen.

No clutter. No clothes. No dent in the bed. Just the faintest trace of something familiar in the air—soap, sweat, metal. Him.

It hit all at once.

He wasn’t here.

I stood in the doorway, blinking like maybe I’d missed something. Like maybe he was hiding just out of sight. Maybe he’d step out and say something first.

But no one came.

No voice. No movement. Just quiet.

Heavy, final.

I stepped inside. Just for a second. Just to be sure. Then backed out fast—like the longer I stayed, the more it might break me.

Of course he’s gone, I thought. Of course I waited too long.

I didn’t say it out loud. Just shut the door behind me—too hard, too loud.

Then stood there in the hallway.

Still. Stupid. Empty-handed.

Bob’s voice came back to me: Don’t leave with it still stuck in your chest.

Too late, I thought. It’s already lodged somewhere I can’t reach.

Whatever might’ve been—it wasn’t anymore.

And maybe that was safer. Maybe that was easier.

But it didn’t feel like it.

xxx

I lay awake for hours.

Didn’t even try to sleep, really. Just stared at the ceiling and tried to rehearse the things I would’ve said. If I’d found him. If he’d answered. If I hadn’t waited too long.

It was stupid. All of it. The silence. The waiting. The pretending.

I’d blown it.

I knew that.

I just wanted a glass of water. Something to do. Something to hold. Something that wasn’t this.

I padded barefoot through the dark hallway, one hand trailing along the wall, the other tugging the hem of my sweatshirt lower.

When I rounded the corner into the living room, I stopped short.

He was there.

Bucky.

Alone. Half-shadowed by the firelight. Sitting in the armchair like he hadn’t moved in hours, eyes unfocused, shoulders curled forward like the weight of the last week was finally settling on him.

He didn’t see me right away.

Or maybe he did, and just didn’t say anything. Either way, he was slouched in the armchair, legs stretched long in front of him, one arm draped over the back, the other hanging loose at his side. Staring into the fire like it owed him something.

He looked wrecked. Not drunk. Not disheveled. Just… like someone who hadn’t let himself break, and was starting to realize that was a mistake.

Something about that—about finding him here when I’d already convinced myself I wouldn’t get to say goodbye—hit me harder than I expected.

“Where were you?”

His head snapped up. Not startled, exactly—but off balance, the way I’d been the night of the gala, when he walked in on me and Bob. Like he was caught mid-thought, mid-something.

“I went to your room,” I said. “To say goodbye.”

He blinked, jaw tightening. I could almost hear the click of him locking everything down again.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Yeah?” I stepped into the room. “Well, I did.”

I crossed to the edge of the rug, just far enough to feel the fire’s heat on my shins.

“Where were you?” I repeated.

He exhaled through his nose, rubbed a hand over his face like he was buying himself time.

“Out,” he muttered. “Trying to walk it off. Or drink it off. I don’t know.”

He didn’t look at me. That part stung more than I thought it would.

“I thought… it’d be easier not to say anything,” he added.

I let out a dry, humorless laugh.

“You really think that made it easier?” I said, sharper than I meant. “For who?”

His head turned, slow and deliberate. That same look he’d given me so many times before—steady, unreadable, a little too focused.

“You think this is easy for me?” I said. “You think I want to leave?”

That landed.

He sat forward, elbows on his knees now, hands clasped like he was bracing for something. Or trying not to fall apart.

“No,” he said. “I don’t think that.”

“Good. Because it fucking sucks.”

Silence. The fire popped once. His eyes didn’t leave mine.

“I know what this looks like,” I said. “You’ve been watching me, waiting for me to screw it up, and maybe I did. But not with Bob. I’m not choosing him—I’m choosing not to let the world burn.”

He flinched—barely. But I caught it.

“It wasn’t like that,” I said, softer now.

He looked down. Swallowed. His voice came out rough.

“I know.”

“Then why’d you keep acting like it?”

That cracked something open. He sat back again, jaw clenched tight.

“Because I couldn’t stand watching it. You—him—it felt like I was already losing you, and I hadn’t even had the chance to—” He stopped. Shook his head.

I stepped in closer.

“To what?” I asked. “To what, Bucky?”

He looked up at me like it hurt. And maybe it did.

“To want you.”

Silence.

My chest tightened. My fingers twitched.

“You could’ve said something.”

“And what?” he snapped. “Said I wanted something I shouldn’t? Said I couldn’t stand losing you, when you were never mine to begin with? Said I—”

He stopped again. Swallowed the rest.

I moved in until we were almost eye level. Close enough to feel the heat coming off him. Close enough to remember what it felt like when I was the one being interrupted.

“You said in my room that night,” I murmured, “that I wasn’t the only one with urges.”

His throat worked around a swallow.

“You weren’t wrong.”

He just looked up at me like I’d split something in him open—and he didn’t know how to close it back up.

That same look.

The one he gave me the night of the verdict. When I’d crossed the room, slow and quiet and stupid with want, and he’d said nothing—just watched me move closer like he didn’t trust himself to stop it.

He hadn’t touched me then. Had barely breathed.

But I remembered the way his voice cracked when he said, “Long day.”

And I remembered how that sentence had gutted me. Not because it was cold. But because it was mercy.

This wasn’t that.

There was no more space for mercy.

So I broke it for him.

My hand went to his jaw—steady, certain—and his eyes fluttered closed like he’d been waiting for it longer than he wanted to admit.

I didn’t pull him in. I just held him there. Let the moment hang between us, like the end of a sentence we were both too scared to say.

“You should’ve answered the door,” I said, quieter now. “I was ready to say goodbye.”

“I wasn’t,” he said. “Not to you.”

He didn’t say anything now. Just looked up at me with that same tension in his jaw—like if he moved, even an inch, he might break something.

And I thought about that night in his room—the night of the verdict.

When I’d asked why he was always there. When he told me I wasn’t the only one who felt things.

It hadn’t been a confession. It had been a reckoning. And I hadn’t known what to do with it then—but now I did.

So I reached for him.

I leaned in and kissed him—slow at first, aching, like I was trying to memorize the shape of his mouth. Like I was afraid I’d forget how he tasted.

But he didn’t let me stay soft for long.

His hands found my waist like he’d been waiting for permission he thought he’d never get. And then we weren’t careful anymore.

We were teeth and breath and hands. We were frustration and grief and guilt, spilling out all over each other.

He stood up too fast and I didn’t let him pull away. I pressed into him, fingers dragging up under the hem of his shirt, desperate to feel skin, to feel him—solid and real and here.

His breath hitched.

“Is this really happening?” he murmured—low, rough, almost like it wasn’t meant to be out loud.

“Yeah,” I said. “It is.”

He looked at me like he was still catching up. Like he’d been bracing for this moment so long he didn’t know how to step into it.

Then he kissed me—hard. Like he was done thinking. Like the answer had always been yes.

We weren’t careful. We weren’t soft. We were burning the house down because neither of us knew how to mourn it quietly.

But neither of us stopped.

He pushed me back into the wall with a groan, and I swore I felt the floor tilt under us.

My shirt was halfway off when a floorboard creaked down the hall.

We both froze.

His breath caught in my mouth. Mine caught in my throat.

“Shit,” I whispered.

I looked at him. Hair mussed, lips swollen, shirt wrinkled. He looked back at me like he was already bracing for someone to come walking in.

“We should probably—”

“Get a room?” I finished. He nodded.

We made it halfway down the hall before I pressed him into the wall again.

I couldn’t help it.

His hands were already under my shirt. Mine were tangled in his hair. And every time I remembered this was our last night, I wanted to crawl inside his skin and stay there.

“This is crazy,” I breathed against his mouth.

He kissed me harder.

We barely made it to the bedroom. I stumbled backward through the door, pulling him with me, his mouth still on mine like we were going to fall apart if we stopped touching. Maybe we were.

The door clicked shut behind him.

For a second, we just stood there—breathing each other in. Close enough to feel the heat still radiating off our skin. Close enough that I didn’t know where I ended and he began.

He stared at me like he didn’t want to blink.

Like if he did, I’d disappear.

And suddenly I needed words. Not just hands. Not just breath.

I didn’t know if I was holding onto him or holding myself up.

“Bucky,” I whispered. “tell me what you’re thinking.”

He looked at me like it hurt.

“I’ve been trying not to want you for a while now,” he murmured.

“Me too,” I said. “Didn’t work.”

This time, when I kissed him, he didn’t hold back.

I kissed him again—slower now. Not to prove anything. Not to make a point. Just to feel it. To feel him. Solid and real and mine, even if only for tonight.

His lips moved against mine like he didn’t quite believe it. Like he was waiting for me to change my mind.

“You sure?” he breathed, brushing his nose against mine.

“Yes.” I tangled my fingers in his hair. “Stop asking.”

He swallowed hard. His hands curled around my waist like he needed something to hold.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said. “Not for me.”

“I’m not doing it for you,” I said, resting my forehead against his. “I’m doing it because I want to. Because I want you.”

That undid him.

His hands tightened at my sides. His mouth found mine again—hungrier this time, like he finally let himself believe it. Like he was kissing me with everything he hadn’t said out loud.

We didn’t rush.

We didn’t stumble.

It wasn’t frantic.

It was careful. Intentional. Like we were building something fragile and already grieving its collapse.

By the time we made it to the bed, Bucky Barnes wasn’t the man sitting by the fire, trying not to fall apart. He wasn’t the soldier, or the spy, or the one who always watched from the edge.

He was mine. And I was his.

And we were done pretending we didn’t want this.

Clothes came off slowly, like we were peeling back armor. Each layer a surrender. Each breath another promise we couldn’t keep.

When he slipped his hands beneath my shirt, his touch was reverent. Like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch—but needed to anyway.

“You really want this?” he asked again, voice hoarse.

I grabbed his hand and pressed it flat over my chest, right above my heart.

“I want you.”

His eyes darkened. His breath caught.

“Okay.”

He kissed me like he meant it—steady, grounded. Like he was trying to hold me in place with his mouth, like if he let go for even a second, I’d disappear.

I let him lead.

I let him take me apart with his mouth, his hands, his breath against my skin. He kissed down my ribs like they meant something. Traced the curve of my waist like it might break if he rushed.

And when he knelt between my legs and slid my underwear down, it felt like both a question and an answer.

“You’re sure?” he asked again, barely above a whisper.

“Please,” I said, threading my fingers into his hair. “Just—please.”

That was all it took.

He buried his face between my thighs like he’d been starving. His fingers curled inside me, coaxing soft, shuddering gasps from my throat. Every touch—every sound—ratcheted up the tension already thrumming in my chest. I felt like I was burning from the inside out.

“How long have you wanted to do this?” I managed, breathless.

He kissed up my body, slow and deliberate, until he was hovering over me again.

“Since the Void,” he murmured.

Surprise must’ve crossed my expression. His mouth quirked—wry, but soft.

“You walked in, asked if I was okay… and I lied through my teeth. Figured it was safer if you didn’t know I was already gone for you.”

I stared up at him.

“That long,” he said again, quieter now.

Something in my chest cracked open.

I didn’t want to wait anymore. I’d waited enough.

“Bucky,” I gasped. “Please. I need you.”

He brushed a thumb over my cheekbone. His voice dropped.

“You want me, Yelena?”

It wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t a game. He was still asking like he needed permission. Like he didn’t quite believe he was wanted.

“I want you,” I said, firm. Then again, rougher—meaner, because I was coming apart. “I want you.”

I fumbled with his pants, fingers shaking, and wrapped my hand around him. He groaned—low and guttural—and dropped his forehead against mine.

“Say it again,” he whispered, grinding against me, fingers still between my legs.

“I want you so fucking badly, Bucky,” I whimpered. “Please. Just—fuck, please.”

He lined himself up and pushed in all at once.

I gasped—loud, broken—and he caught it in a kiss.

He moved slow at first. Measured. Like he was learning the way I felt around him. Like he didn’t want to miss a thing.

Every thrust landed deep, precise. My body arched beneath him, straining to meet every inch.

And then—just as the pressure built, just as I felt myself start to fray—he whispered it.

Soft. Quiet. Right against my mouth.

“I love you.”

I froze for half a second.

Not from fear. From impact.

He swallowed hard. His rhythm faltered.

“Had to say it,” he murmured. “At least once.”

My breath hitched.

His hand found mine.

And that—

That was it.

I shattered.

I came around him with a cry, clinging to him like I could hold the moment still. He followed with a groan, spilling into me with a shudder, his face buried in my neck.

We stayed like that—sweaty, tangled, breathless.

Two ghosts playing at being human.

I let myself pretend, just for a second, that we weren’t both trained to disappear.

He was still holding me. Still breathing like he hadn’t quite come down.

I stared at the ceiling, let myself imagine—for just a second—what it would be like to stay.

“Did you mean it?” I asked. Quiet. Like if I said it too loud, it wouldn’t be true anymore.

He didn’t look at me right away.

“Do you want me to?”

The corner of his mouth twitched—like he meant it, but couldn’t stand to say it first.

I looked at him for a long time.

“I just…” I shook my head, stopping myself.

But the words kept burning anyway.

I stared at the ceiling, let myself imagine—for just a second—what it would be like to stay.

“I just wish we had more time,” I said.

Then, after a beat, quieter: “Would’ve been nice to do this more than once.”

His fingers tightened just slightly around mine.

“Maybe we will,” he said, so quiet I almost missed it. “Down the line.”

I didn’t answer right away. Just looked at him for a long time.

“Yeah,” I said. “Maybe.”

But we both knew better. And we didn’t say it.

Still—

As we drifted off to sleep, he held me. Without flinching. Without breaking.

And somehow—without hurting me.

No one ever had. Not like this.

And if he really could—if this was real—

He’d be the first.

[whalesforhands]

gulp your anxiety (geto x reader x gojo) pt.4

previous masterlist next

warnings: y’all were requesting tropes that were already in this, i thought someone leaked my drafts, anons ur scary, gojo is his own warning

You thought you were being normal.

No, you didn’t feel your heart drop as you watched Satoru sneak a kiss from Suguru before you entered the classroom.

No, you didn’t feel your words lodge themselves in your throat when you accidentally met their eyes whilst walking in.

No, you didn’t feel the searing desperation of loss within you as your heart longed for what could never be.

Your head hurts.

“So if f’(x)=6x^2,+2x-1, find f(x) given f(2)=5.” Yaga drawls out, the chalk scratching against the blackboard as the equation begins to form.

“Who wants to give it a shot?”

Satoru snorts. Suguru writes. Ieiri pretends to be thinking.

“Gojo. Thank you for volunteering.” Yaga taps his foot against the ground as he crosses his arms, brows furrowed. “Get up here.”

(He got it right after sneaking a peek of Suguru’s answer before he got up.)

——

It was strange, to say the least. The way the duo acted as if nothing had happened.

As if the hickeys that bruised your neck didn’t exist.

They pulled you along, pleading with you to join their little group outing to the nearby shopping centre. As usual.

“It’s part of the high school experience! What kind of teenagers are we if we don’t go there at least every week?”

That’s why you ended up here. Here, as in, waiting outside Ieiri’s waiting room as she changed, the rustling of clothing the only thing heard as you heard the curtains be drawn.

She donned a cute sundress, a maroon red and absolutely gorgeous on her. You stare unapologetically.

(She looks beautiful in anything.)

She takes your reactions in stride, strutting out whenever she sees that your jaw had dropped, laughing internally when she sees your awestruck face.

(She adds it to the pile that she had noted as ‘to purchase’.)

“I look good, don’t I?”

You nod profusely, unable to say anything whilst admiring her beauty.

When she draws the curtain open again, she’s back in her uniform. You feel disappointed.

“Was that all…?”

She huffs, as if discontent with your reaction.

(You want to apologise for breathing wrong.)

“No,” She begins, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as she smiles. “It’s your turn now.”

…what?

——

“I-I don’t think this suits me…” You look at yourself in the mirror, staring at yourself wearing a white sundress with a similar design to the maroon one Ieiri donned earlier.

You don’t think it fits you right. The tied ribbons that settled on your shoulders as straps and ran down the length of your back were cute, but you don’t like how much of your upper body it exposed. A wide expanse of your chest was tastefully showcased, just enough to hide your cleavage but show your collarbones.

The flows fabric of the dress ended just below your knees, swishing around with every twirl or turn you did. It’s too pretty, too gorgeous to be wasted on someone who looked like you, you thought.

“It definitely looks better on you…” You murmur, staring at yourself in the mirror before pitifully casting your eyes down towards the ground.

“At least let me see it.” She drawled out from behind the curtain, “If you really don’t like it, we can find something else for us to match.”

She… Wanted to match dresses with you? You? You feel your heart jump in excitement.

“I-I’ll be right on out-!” You excitedly peel back the curtain, only to be met with widened blue and surprised black.

You didn’t expect them to be back so soon from the arcade.

You begin to shy back, hand gripping the curtain before Ieiri grabbed your hand, pulling you forward to reveal the entire getup you had on.

Suguru squeezes the lamb plush in his hands tighter. The lollipop in Satoru’s mouth falls to the ground.

You want to run.

“You look adorable.” She begins, scanning you up and down as your hand crosses over your chest. “I like the way it accentuates you.” She trails her hand from your slightly exposed shoulders, down to the expanse of your chest, her fingers lingering over the area just above your breasts.

You don’t hear two boys gulp.

“She looks pretty, doesn’t she?” Shoko moves behind you, pushing you forward by your shoulders as she shows you off. You couldn’t see, but she was smirking.

“The prettiest in the world.”

——

You stared at the menu, looking over your choices as the duo sat nearby, chattering.

(Ieiri had decided to go smoke. You didn’t want to be left alone with them. You offered to go order, not realising that you hadn’t seen Gojo pull out his black card for you to take.)

“How may I help you today, miss?” A jovial greeting from the boy at the counter. He looked your age.

“Ah, I-I’m not really s-sure yet.”

You completely forgot to ask for their orders in your haste to get away.

You’re stupid. So stupid. Is it not awkward to turn away now? Should you just pick what you think they would like? Will they hate it but try to swallow it anyway? Gosh, you don’t want that to happen. Why do you suck so mu-

“That’s plenty alright, miss! If you have trouble, I have some recommendations just for you!” He ushered you closer as he held up a miniature menu.

“We have a special today! Buy 2 of our combo set meals and we’ll upgrade your drink for free!” He smiles, pointing at the rather large words on such a comically small sheet of laminated paper.

You smile, looking up to meet his gaze, eyes briefly running over his name tag. Hasegawa.

“Thank you, Hasegawa-san.”

(He’s blushing.)

You take this time to observe his face. Freckles, his brown hair slightly mussed from his little work visor. You like his eyes best, you decide. Kind and upturned into little crescents when he smiles, gentle-looking.

They sort of remind you of Suguru.

He’s sort of cute.

He blushes harder as he notices your staring.

“Hey…? I-If you don’t mind, could I get your num-“

“Ooh, I think you wouldn’t mind me buying a few Wacburgers today, right Suguru?”

“Hah? You of all people should have money of your own, Satoru.”

You feel Satoru’s elbow rest on your shoulder as he leans forth, as if trying to get a better view of the menu.

“Ehhhh? But you lost at our 1v1 match afterall!”

You hear Suguru sigh, an arm subtly tugging down at your sleeve to reveal the hickeys that decorated your neck, before he placed his hand on your arm, as if holding you back from paying.

“I suppose so.” He hummed. “Okay, 3 Wacburger specials-“

“Make that 15, please!” Satoru had grinned over your shoulder, fingers tightening their grip ever so slightly, seemingly trying to squeeze you closer.

Suguru guffawed.

“Uhm- Excuse me, but-“

“Are you seriously going to eat 12 burgers-“

“Oh, look at that! They have a special today!” His eyes trailed over the large menu above Hasegawa from beneath his dark sunglasses. “Do you think you can add more chocolate bits to the Triple Chocolate Vanilla Deluxe?” Gojo hummed, straightening up ever slightly more, towering over the already cowering boy.

“R-right…” Hasegawa typed it in. “So that will be 15 Wacburger specials, 1 Triple Chocolate Vanilla Deluxe with extra cookie bi-“

“(name)~, wanna share my food with me?” Gojo cooed, his face closing in slightly on yours as he blocked your view from the front, obscuring your apologetic face from the boy.

You try to sputter it out. “I’m sorry for their behav-!”

“I’ll pay by cash, please.” Suguru smiled from beside you, moving forward ever so slightly, pushing you back subtly.

“Let’s go back to our seats~” Satoru leads you away, spinning you around and walking you back to your seats as his arm starts to settle on your waist.

You don’t complain.

Not even when his hand lingers before letting you go.

(Was it because Suguru wasn’t here?)

He settles in front of you, reaching for your hand and drawing mindless shapes on them as your eyes lose their focus.

“Do you think being strong means to be perfect at everything?”

Your rebuttal dies in your throat as you hear Gojo’s sentence.

No. No, you don’t think so. You shake your head.

“Then I don’t see why you’re so hard on yourself, ya know?” He yawns out, settling beside you.

Your heart skips a beat when you feel him sleepily lay his head on your shoulder. He’s comforting you.

“I think you’re enough.”

Do you think it’s stupid that you fell for him just because of that? No, you don’t. You found solace in the words you deserved to hear in your moment of need.

Gojo Satoru is precious to you.

A tray gently clatters onto the table as Suguru settles himself next to you, shifting you in further into the booth seat as the imposing stack of 15 wrapped burgers were piled on before you.

He was smiling as he unwrapped one, handing it to you as Satoru digs into his ice cream, eager and excited.

Oh. You were trapped.

masterlist next

Notes:

Ieiri’s scheming ploy was to have you wear something cute so that Satoru would willingly pay for the clothes with his card. (He did, in fact end up paying for all the clothes.)

(And she was happy she got you to match with her.)

Suguru was the one who complimented you at the clothing store. Satoru was too awestruck. You think he thinks you look horrendous. Why else would he spit out his lollipop?

STSG actually won you a lamb plush from a claw machine at the arcade. You remind them of one.

Hasegawa (the cashier from Wacdonald’s) thought you were really pretty. He still does, even after the whole STSG fiasco. He wished you told him you were already taken first.

Ieiri thinks you’re the cutest when you’re blushing.

STSG duo are trying to act nonchalantly after the whole ‘kissing you in the classroom’ thing. They thought they had scared you off, and are trying to do things slowly. Kind of like trying to tame a stray kitten.

STSG were also watching your every move as you ordered at Wacdonald’s. They did not like how charming you were to the random boy at the counter.

The answer to the equation is 2x^3+x^2-x-13. Standard integration question.

Suguru is smart, and actually quite likes studying. I would say his favourite subject was Japanese literature. Satoru, detests any academic experience. But somehow, still passes everything with flying colours. Ieiri does enough to just pass.

Suguru, Satoru, Shoko and yourself often study at Suguru’s room together when exams are coming up.

[craving-for-chaos]

On the topic of Viper and Omen...

(AKA Reckoning Cinematic + some lore analysis because I have Opinions)

Okay so I saw this old post about the Reckoning cinematic earlier, and I noticed it got an extremely enthusiastic anti-Viper response (or at least a "Viper is definitely in the wrong" response), and I'm...quite confused. I'm not trying to say anyone's opinions are wrong, but let me walk you through my thought process because I genuinely don't think what she did is as "evil" or "cruel" as people are acting—and hey, if anyone still disagrees by the end, feel free to explain why! I would genuinely like to understand why this cinematic garnered the excessively anti-Viper response that it did.

First of all, let's list the facts about Viper and Omen's situation as of the Reckoning cinematic:

Omen used to be an assassin. That is an undeniable fact. We don't know what his motivations or circumstances were, and neither did Viper. For all we know, he could've been forced into that profession somehow—however, it's equally likely that he genuinely just enjoyed murdering people.

He was sent to assassinate Viper specifically, and based off his outfit in the cinematic flashback, he went undercover to do so. She probably thought she knew him, or he was at least trusted by Kingdom to an extent, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to get into her lab in the first place.

It's not like Kingdom found some intel and were like "Hey Dr. Callas, this guy's going to assassinate you at this time and place!!" and she got time to prepare. Instead, she was taken by surprise by Omen quite literally trying to stab her.

He literally says in-game that he "feels more like himself" when he kills enemies, and because of that, has been eager to kill however many people it takes for him to regain his memories the entire time he's been in the VP.

Prior to finding out Viper was responsible for his current state, he had no idea what or who made him the way he is. He just hated how he was, and all he wanted was answers regardless of how he got them.

Okay, so, with all of this in mind...I totally understand why she did what she did. Is it right or fair to Omen? No! But I understand her reasoning. She was working at night by herself, and suddenly someone comes at her with a knife. In that situation, there's no way she would be thinking clearly and logically—her thoughts likely began and ended in "I am being attacked, must neutralize the attacker/escape." She threw the chemical to defend herself and get him away from her, and he either stumbled back into the testing chamber or she pushed him in.

I can sort of understand people saying that she didn't need to turn it on, but at the same time, there's nothing guaranteeing that the chamber would've stayed shut unless she activated it, and he was actively pounding on the glass and breaking it. If the choice was between risking a now-pissed off assassin hunting me down or ensuring he wouldn't be able to, then yeah, I too would pick the latter. Plus, again, she's probably full of adrenaline and panic at that point (Something that her voicemails to Brim post-Reckoning support, given how panicked she sounds in them.)

Moving onto after the VP was created—because Omen's connection with Sage is still pretty unclear at this point, though I personally believe that Viper had to have asked Sage to try reviving him, because what else could their connection possibly be?—Viper is in a shitty situation.

As we established earlier, Omen isn't shy about announcing that killing others helps him feel like himself, and he is willing to do ANYTHING to get his memories back. And Viper is not only responsible for his current physical and mental state, but also someone he was literally sent to assassinate. To make matters worse, he also now has Radiant powers. So in that situation, why in the world would Viper tell him the truth?

I love Omen, don't get me wrong, but he's unpredictable as soon as his memories are brought into the equation. Who's to say that, had Viper told him the truth about his condition right away when the VP was created, he wouldn't have gotten violent? Best case scenario, he abandons the VP and becomes an unknown variable that they now have to worry about. Worst case scenario, his combined desire for revenge and desire to regain his memories leads him to trying to murder Viper yet again. He was already a trained and skilled assassin before. He literally murdered people for a living, and now he also has powers that she can't defend herself against unless she's prepared first—there's simply no way she comes out of that alive if he decides to try his hand at killing her again and she isn't armed.

Viper knows all of this, and all things considered, she couldn't have handled the situation better without causing more risk to herself or the VP. She seems to genuinely care about him, and she treated him as such after the VP's formation. She put him in a position where he kills people regularly, giving him a slim chance of recovering his memories on his own, while also keeping an eye on him. She gave him the opportunity to find friendship and support within the Protocol as well, lessening his instability and decreasing the likelihood of him abandoning the VP for good. These are all things that honestly brought about the best outcome for both him and the VP. And did she do all of this intentionally? Not necessarily, but I'd bet money that she thought through it quite a bit.

Anyway, perhaps no one even cares about this anymore and I'm arguing with the wall rn, but my point is that in my opinion, Viper had an extremely reasonable reaction when faced with an extreme situation. You can empathize with Omen all you want (I do too!), and you can disagree with how Viper handled the situation, but words cannot express how baffled I was when I saw Viper getting practically demonized for doing what she did. Even OMEN doesn't hold it against her, and yet a sizeable amount of his fans are acting like she committed a war crime by doing this??

Idk, I'd love to hear other people's thoughts on the matter, but I just felt the need to share my thoughts because I was, and still am, SO lost as to why people are acting like she was insane for her choices here 😭

[pawnshopbleus]

These Are the Days Five - The Emerald City

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader High School AU

For the summary, warnings, and more please visit here.

Previous chapter.

The library is drab and dreary as usual. It is quiet except for the usual sneeze or cough that comes out of studying students. 

Dina and Jesse sit in the chairs across from you, their brows furrowed as they try and understand their homework. They’re taking AP Physics together which they both agree was a mistake. 

You, on the other hand, are still struggling with your math homework. No matter how many times you did the equation, you still got the answer wrong. It’s gotten to the point where you’ve had to switch the paper you were writing on. The old one had gone gray with how many times you erased and wrote over it. 

The doors to the library swing open, giving you a glimpse of the free souls roaming the hallways. 

Abby and Ellie pull up chairs and sit at the table with you three. Their faces are slick with sweat dirt, they’re wearing their softball uniforms, and they have their bags in hand. They drop their bags with a thud and place their sweaty foreheads on the table.

“Long practice?” Dina asks, looking up from her physics homework for the first time. 

Ellie grunts, giving you all the answers that you need. 

Your parents were always too busy with work to put you in anything recreational. The closest thing you did to a sport was ride your bike everywhere. Now that your bike is gone, all that there’s left to do is walk. 

Ellie lifts her head, “You know what would make me feel better? The Crab Pot.” 

Abby sighs at the thought of seafood. She likes it but less than she likes Mexican food. 

“That touristy place in Miners Landing?” Abby asks. 

Ellie nods her head with a smirk on her face at the thought of seafood. 

“I don’t think they doordash,” Jesse sighs. He too would like some seafood. 

“I’m not using doordash. I’m driving down there.” Ellie waves her keys at the group

Dina looks at Ellie, confused, “I thought your dad took your keys away because you threw a party again?”

“One car ride with me in the morning and he practically begged me to take my keys back.” 

“Road trip?” Jesse suggests, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Ellie’s keys.

“Road trip,” Ellie nods.

Ellie's car is a bright red Jeep Wrangler with an extra row of seating. It’s the perfect vehicle for a family of six or in this case, five teenagers on their way to Seattle. 

Jesse turns to you. “You better buckle up. Ellie’s a bit of a-” he’s interrupted by the jolt of the car. 

“Sorry!” Ellie exclaims. “I didn’t see the curb!” 

“A scary driver,” Jesse finishes his thought before he’s sitting up right in his seat. 

Lakeview becomes a blur the farther away the five of you ride along. You don’t have room to comment on Ellie’s driving as you don’t have a license or a car. She narrowly avoids running over a few trash cans and parked cars but soon enough you make it on the freeway. 

Cars honk and pass Ellie as she tries to get over a lane. You feel bad for her. You can tell that she’s trying by the way she keeps checking her surroundings but cars around her aren’t giving her any grace. Dina’s got one hand on Ellie’s thigh, a reverse of what people usually expect. Dina’s trying her hardest to calm Ellie down and by the looks of it, it’s working. 

Ellie merges off the freeway and you’re taken aback by the beauty of Seattle. The greenery that surrounds all the skyscrapers and modern buildings is mother nature’s way of saying that she is ‘still here.’ 

Ellie pulls into the parking lot of Miner’s Landing and sighs with relief. “We made it.”

You notice that Abby hasn’t said anything the entire drive. She throws a hoodie over her dirty softball uniform and you nearly roll your eyes. Owen’s name is sprawled across the back in gold letters. 

You get out of the car and follow the Seattle experts onto the pier. Being here almost reminds you of home. If you just close your eyes, the salty air in and creaking wood under your feet could transport you back to those countless beach days. 

Abby grabs your hand and pulls you along with them. Your day dreaming of home has led you to be a bit behind the group. 

Your mind goes blank and for a split second you can feel your heart give a jolt at your skin on Abbys. This doesn’t mean anything, right? She just didn’t want you to get left behind. 

The two of you catch up with the rest of the group already waiting for the next available table. Ellie and Jesse are talking about the latest comic book Ellie bought with her allowance while Dina braids a few strands of Ellie’s hair. 

Abby let go of your hand a while ago but you can still feel the way her soft skin felt upon yours. You sit there, in silence as you watch her leg bounce up and down. Somethings wrong, it’s been evident ever since she made her way into the library but you haven’t had the chance to ask her. 

“Hey,” Dina waves her hand in front of your face, trying to get your attention. “Isn’t this your first time at Miners Landing?” 

“This is my first time in Seattle actually. I saw a little bit as we drove in, but I haven’t actually had the chance to explore.” 

Dina’s eyes widen and a smile grows on her face. “We have to show you around!” 

The hostess calls Dina’s name and escorts you all to the back of the restaurant. It’s illuminated by the light outside and the yellow lights above. The table is covered in a red and white gingham tablecloth and a smaller white tablecloth for extra protection. 

Menus are placed on the table and the hostess leaves, saying that your waitress will be out in a few. As promised, a waitress with a blue pixie cut comes out with a smile on her face. 

After you order your food and drinks, the waitress collects your menus. An old jazz song is playing softly in the background while other patrons enjoy their food. You observe the people walking through the big windows in the front of the restaurant. A little girl drops her ice cream, an old man almost trips but is saved by his grandson, a mom uses her kids forward, and a man that almost looks like a famous actor trips his untied shoelaces. 

Abby’s phone starts ringing and she sighs as she takes it out of her pocket. Ellie, Dina, Jesse, and you all peer at Abby nervously. 

“Hello, Owen,” Abby says enthusiastically. 

Abby excuses herself from the table and walks outside. As soon as Abby’s foot is out of the door, your food comes. You could care less about your clam chowder as you watch Abby through the big windows. The blue and gold hoodie she’s wearing makes her stand out of the crowd. 

Her brows are furrowed and she’s talking with her hands as if Owen can see her right now. Parents shield their children's ears as they look at Abby with a mixture of concern and caution. 

“I fucking hate Owen,” Ellie shakes her head as she breaks apart a crab leg.

“Don’t we all,” Jesse sighs. 

This catches your interest and for the first time this evening, you pay attention to the conversation happening around you. 

“You guys don’t like Owen?” you ask. 

“Who does? He’s an asshole and he’s a horrible boyfriend,” Dina jabs her fork into a potato. 

“Then why don’t you guys tell Abby that? Maybe that’ll wake her up a bit.”

“Don’t you think we’ve tried? They’re that type of couple that’s on and off again. I thought the last time that they broke up it would be for good but I was mistaken. They were back together two weeks later and they’ve been dating ever since.” Ellie shared with you as you leaned in closer. 

“The point is that we’ve given up on them breaking up for good,” Dina leans back in her chair, a look of pity on her face. 

You let this information sink in as you play with the vegetables in your clam chowder. You knew that Abby and Owen’s relationship was a bit odd from what you’ve seen, but you never knew they were one of those couples. 

You pitied Abby right about now. If you could, you would switch places with her in a heartbeat. She looked like she needed a break from whatever was going on. Her hair was a bit messy, partly from practice but also from pulling her hair out of frustration as she yelled into her phone. Before your mind could process what you were doing, you got up from the table, but Jesse put a hand on your shoulder. 

“It’s better if we let them yell at each other. Trust us, we’ve tried everything,” Jesse says. 

Abby hangs up the phone and sighs, looking at herself in the window, she sighs. She undoes her braid and ruffles her hair, trying her best to make it look more presentable. 

The food on the table has now gone cold as Abby walks back in and takes her seat next to you. She takes a bite of her food and shudders as it goes down. She doesn’t say anything as you all look at her. 

She looks up, ignoring your stares, “We should go on the Ferris wheel. I’ll pay.” 

Abby takes out two one hundred dollar bills and places it on the table and gets up, not waiting for you to join her. You look at everyone, puzzled. It’s like staring at a mirror as they too look puzzled. You grab your stuff and get up, following Abby out of the restaurant and to the huge Ferris wheel. 

Its lights flicker on as the sun sets, emitting a green and red glow across your face. You say ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry’ as you cut through people to catch up with Abby at the front of the line. 

The five of you sit in the gondola. The caged windows provide an obstructed view of Seattle on one side and the bay on the other. Abby peers out of the window, her nose almost touching the metal, and for a split second, you see a smile wash over her face. You blink and then it’s gone.

Next Chapter.

Taglist: @soupycloud

Thank you for reading!