#zero camp whatsoever

[ennaih]

Every Film I Watch In 2023:

235. Witchfinder General (1968)

[glitchfang]

ok so next dp episode is butch and cassidy’s final appearance in the series before they quit team rocket in jn. anyone wanna hear about my conspiracy theory that they booted them from the show because they thought cassidy and jessie being obviously gay divorced wouldnt go well with team rocket becoming more “serious” in gen 5

[somewhereincairparavel]

hot take but I will always hate the concept of percy getting elected as praetor with having spent so less time in camp jupiter, while jason spent the same amount of time in chb and still wasn't able to fill in the gaps percy left, but percy seemingly did for jason in camp jupiter, and how replaceable jason was shown as, despite the fact that he spent 12 years, and trained as a TODDLER. i swear if I see some "joke" about percy surpassing jason in a week COMPLETELY ignoring that it's a very obvious gary sue moment written by rick I'll get so salty. it's one of the many inconsistencies of hoo.

because not only does it scream main character favouritism from rick (with making percy fit into everything somehow with zero plot holes) people ONLY say "jason was replacing percy" but apparently acting like percy wasn't? they were BOTH sent to replace eachother, temporarily atleast.

it's the fact that romans are showed to be very choosy in selecting praetors, which is why it took jason so long to become one despite his reputation. the camp just randomly hailing percy (a greek, people whom they hate) as their leader with zero hesitation whatsoever DESPITE the presence of octavian is weird. considering how much they opposed frank, a ROMAN going on an important quest, deeming him unworthy, despite hearing mars, literal GOD giving them orders to send frank, they were still very adamant in not sending him. so we can see that romans bend their rules for no one.

yes percy accomplished something GREAT and deserved the position as much as jason did, but if you take into consideration how the romans were written in the books, they were the type of people to ignore efforts people made if it meant the people were going against their "traditional" values. going by that logic, rick made them contradict their own views just for the purpose of elevating percy, and instilling this sense of superiority over jason.

knowing that the target audience wouldn't want jason to be on the same level as percy, which is strange because rick also meant to write jason and percy as foils of eachother, so shouldn't they be given equal amounts of importance? or just don't write them as foils at all if you want percy to have leverage over jason so bad? like pick a side.

if percy can be made a praetor with a week's time and have golden treatment in an enemy camp that accepts no one in easily (as opposed to chb who's more accepting) then why ISN'T jason held up like a hero in chb if percy is? (nah don't bombard me with the "camp half blood is loyal! unlike camp jupiter, rick wrote percy getting held up to point out that difference between the camps loyalty" bs we are just making up excuses and stories to make sense of the bad writing, who knows if rick even thought through all that, considering how inconsistent he is in books after pjo)

how come chb, whos main trait was written as loyalty to the campers never changed when it came to jason being there? jason got good friends, sure. but the camp NEVER saw him as a replacement to percy and there was some tension with him popping out of nowhere right when percy disappeared. jason was accepted in camp, but he wasn't hailed like a hero there the way percy was.

but camp jupiter, who's traits were extremely traditional values and rules that was never changed or messed with in the past was randomly tailored to percy's advantage? jason was hailed as the pinnacle of the true image of rome, and them replacing him with an unconventional greek hero within a WEEK seems so contradictory and just screams bad writing. why is the fandom giving this portion of the bad writing a pass when it clearly wastes the potential of the characters who aren't percy or annabeth? also this is NOT a percy hate post before y'all flood my inbox with threats, just pointing out one of the many inconsistencies of heroes of olympus.

[haartemis]

I love you, it's ruining my life | Part III

pairing: Kylian x black!fem!Reader

warnings: some nsfw (?) content

word count: 6.9k

part one, part two

A/N: this one is a bit long 🫠 Thank you to those who read the first two parts, and to those who sent me sweet messages🙏🏾Inbox is open, so please do let me know your thoughts !! <3

III. December 2022

“What are those for?” 

Y/N followed Ethan’s inquisitive gaze to the top of her tote bag . She quickly shoved down the bags of candy peeking out, trying to conceal their abundance. She knew she’d packed way too many, but more meant better options, she’d reasoned. Especially since the person they were meant for had the sweet tooth of a 5 year old. 

“Oh, you know me, I always have to have snacks on me” She lied.

Ethan looked at her like she was a madman, then shook his head before turning his attention to his phone. They were sitting outside at a luxurious hotel that served as the base camp of the French National Team for the duration of the World Cup. With the final only a few days away, the FFF had organized a “fun day” for the players to unwind with their loved ones. There were bouncy castles and inflatable slides littered around the lawn for children, while the irresistible aroma of barbecue wafted through the air. Kylian was somewhere entertaining his niece and nephew, and was hanging out with his parents as well. Y/N and Ethan, introverts as they were, spent most of their time chilling on the lounge chairs drinking mojitos (Virgin mojitos for Ethan; he’d tried to convince her to let him have a try from her drink but she’d refused). 

Y/N was enjoying herself. Truly savoring every moment. A one month-long, all-expenses-paid trip to watch her best friend play in the World Cup? She couldn’t have submitted her PTO request fast enough.  

 “It’s probably only going to be 2 weeks though”  Kylian had said to her half- jokingly when he’d proposed the idea over the phone. He was referring to the “winner's curse”, the jinx that often saw past winners exit the tournament in the group stages.  But against all odds, France was once again in the final of the World Cup. 

She opened her phone, dismayed to find zero new messages from her boyfriend of 8 months, Lucas. They had met when she moved to Madrid straight after graduating from university. She’d found a job at a small public health non-profit, and Lucas had been one of the few people working there that was her age. They’d quickly struck up a friendship,  and he’d immediately asked her out after he left that job a few years later. It was a no-brainer for Y/N to say yes. He was good looking, charming, and made her laugh. Besides, it was well past the time to move on from Kylian. 

For his part, Kylian had been ecstatic when she’d returned to Europe. They had grown closer after both of their moves,  despite the distance. They facetimed at least once a week, and it sort of became a tradition for Kylian to give her a quick call before games. They’d text regularly too, their conversations meandering from trivial topics to deep confessions. Once, she’d mentioned that she used “Study with me” YouTube videos for her study sessions, as it was a way to keep herself accountable. 

“I could do that with you, you don’t need stupid youtube videos” he’d said confidently over the phone. 

She’d laughed. “You can’t shut up for 2 minutes if your life depended on it, Ky”

“No, I can” he’d said seriously. “I want to, for you”

And so they’d formed another tradition. They’d sit silently on facetime for hours and hours, Y/N poring over her books and notes, and Kylian in his room alone doing god knows what. He’d check in on her every once in a while, always encouraging. She knew that he had a busy life and few precious hours to himself, so she was grateful that he’d decided to spend that time with her, doing something that had no immediate benefit to him whatsoever. 

They’d opened up more about their love lives as well, as they’d promised to each other back in Monaco. She didn’t volunteer any information herself, because it was still  a little weird, but she’d answer questions if he probed. It was a lot less easy for Kylian to hide things from her, thanks to his growing fame. She’d only have to scroll through her explore page on Instagram or go through gossip websites to find detailed information about any woman who so much as breathed next to him. He’d continued dating people after the breakup with Sophia, which had happened only a month after her visit in Monaco. But much to her relief, it was never serious with anyone. She’d once seen pictures of him in the stands at the Parc des Princes with a blonde actress, and that old feeling of jealousy had snuck up on her like it had never left.  But just two weeks later, Kylian informed her that it was over. 

She had mentioned  Lucas to him  pretty early on in the relationship. Like she expected, he’d made a bad joke out of it. Something about HR needing to be alerted. She’d reminded him, rather annoyed, that Lucas no longer worked at her workplace. He didn’t say anything after that, quickly changing the subject. One day, however, Lucas mentioned something that gave her pause.

“You know something crazy that happened to me today?” He’d laughed. They were lounging on her couch in her apartment, watching a movie. “Kylian Mbappe liked a picture of mine on Instagram, from like 6 years ago”

She’d furrowed her eyebrows. Lucas was a huge football fan, but Y/N still hadn’t mentioned her friendship with Kylian. It had only been a month of them seeing each other, and about 3 days after she’d told Kylian about him. 

“Yeah, look” Lucas brought out his phone and showed her a screenshot. Sure enough, Kylian’s username was under a picture of Lucas’ dated December 2016. Lucas was a regular poster on Instagram, so Kylian must have scrolled far back to find that picture. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. 

“I know right?” Lucas  had said. “Funny thing is, it disappeared just a few seconds after I got the notification. So random.”

She imagined THE Kylian Mbappe in his bed late at night, lurking on Instagram, accidentally liking an old picture and then hurriedly unliking. 

“Yeah” she had said, a smile tugging at her lips. “Random”

As Y/N’s thoughts drifted back to the present, she glanced at her phone again. Still empty. After a rocky couple weeks  of arguments, Y/N and Lucas decided to go on a break. Lucas had grown distant and less affectionate. He was less present when they spent time together, and was generally making less effort in the relationship. It had been a punch to the gut when he’d forgotten her birthday two weeks ago. She hadn’t said anything; he’d only realized when he saw the huge bouquet of flowers from Kylian sitting on her dining table. 

That was also another sore spot in their relationship; Lucas was not at all comfortable with her friendship with Kylian. He hadn’t mentioned it, and she had made a point to tone down the constant texting and calling as soon as they became official, but she could still see it in the way he behaved. The World Cup trip was the tipping point. She couldn’t blame him; Her male best friend, who was one of the most famous footballers in the world, was bankrolling a one month trip for her to watch him play on the world’s biggest stage. It would be a hit to the ego for any man. But frankly, she was tired. She was tired of him, and she wanted time away from him. And so the break began. 

She did not miss him, if she was being honest with herself. Yet, she couldn’t help checking her phone to see if he’d reached out.  Lucas was the only person she’d been seriously interested in, besides Kylian. Maybe it wasn’t wise to give up on something good over a bad month or so. A tiny, insecure part of her told her she’d never find someone who liked her just as much as Lucas.

“Hi there” A deep voice cut through her thoughts. She looked up to see a very handsome face.

He stood tall in the dark blue tracksuit of the French national team, smiling at her broadly. She recognized him immediately. 

“Hi” She responded shyly, having never spoken to Kylian’s national team teammates before. 

“Saw you from over there” Aurelien Tchouameni pointed to the mini basketball court, where some other players were shooting hoops. “And you’re really pretty”

Straight to the point, then. Ethan snorted from across the table. 

“Uh.. thanks” She said nervously. “I have a boyfriend though”

Aurelien glanced at Ethan, then at her. Realization dawned on his face, and he held up his hands apologetically. “Oh, you’re Y/N! I should’ve realized… So you and Kylian finally got together, huh?”

“W-What?” She blabbered. Ethan was now laughing. “No, we’re not dating. Just friends”

“Oh” Aurelien said, his eyebrows furrowing. “Sorry. It’s just that he always talks about you”

“Really?”

“Yeah, whenever we talk about shows and music and stuff, he’s always like Y/N recommended this, Y/N said that”

“Yeah, he basically stole my entire personality” She deadpanned, trying to feel less awkward.

He laughed, nodding in agreement. “Well, you guys have fun. And sorry about that, I just had to shoot my shot”

He winked and walked away as quickly as he’d appeared.

She turned to Ethan, who was no doubt opening his mouth to tease her. She held up her hand. “Don’t even”

Y/N unloaded the contents of her tote bag on the bed, spilling out every type of candy Kylian had ever enjoyed. She turned to him, smiling proudly. “There you go, Monsieur”

Kylian’s eyes lit up as he grabbed a bag of M&Ms and tore it open. “Thank you” he said with a dimpled grin.

He’d  texted her the day before asking her to grab him some candy, and she was happy to oblige. Kylian was the most disciplined person she’d ever met, but everyone deserves a cheat day—especially someone who’d made it to his second World Cup final at 23. She’d waited until they were alone in his room to give him the treats, careful to not be seen by any of the coaching staff. 

She leaned back on her chair and opened her phone, once again checking for new messages. 

“Stop that” Kylian scolded.

“Stop what?” She asked innocently.

“I know what you’re doing” he said. “I can’t believe you’re the one who’s hung up on him while he’s the asshole. It should be the other way around”

“I’m not hung up on him” She said, flustered. “I’m just…”

“You’re checking your phone every 5 minutes” He cut in. “You deserve someone who gives you their full attention and consideration, you know”

And why can’t that person be you?

The door burst open and Ethan walked in, his eyes immediately landing on all the candy.

“I knew it!” He pointed at her, accusatorial. “I knew it was for him”

She shrugged apologetically. 

Ethan happily opened a bag of Haribos, and turned to his brother, a mischievous look on his face. “Did she tell you about Tchouameni?”

“What about him?” Kylian responded absentmindedly, his attention on his phone. 

“He hit on her” Ethan said grinning “And then when he found out who she was he said he thought you two were dating”

An idea unfurled in Y/N’s head. “He’s so hot” she said. “Maybe I should ask for his number. Might as well, right? Since Lucas and I are basically done…”

“No” Kylian’s voice rose slightly. “No, don’t do that.”

“Why not?” She asked “You just said I deserve someone who gives me attention. Aurelien seems like the type”

He was fidgeting now, irritation clearly written on his face. “Athletes are assholes, haven’t you heard that before? Also, it would be weird for you to date my teammate”

“Are you saying you’re an asshole?” She asked

“No, but.. Just trust me” He turned his attention back to his phone, clearly uncomfortable. 

Y/N wasn’t much of a football fan, but she knew that the match she just witnessed was one of the best ever played. The highs and lows, the split second moments that changed the trajectory of the whole game, the sheer unpredictability of the whole thing. Every single movement made by the players felt like the tipping point. The atmosphere inside the stadium was electric, a living, breathing entity fueled by the passion and excitement of the fans watching. By the time the Argentinian player had kicked the final penalty to seal his country’s win, she was overwhelmed by a deep feeling of sadness. So much so, that she felt tears prick her eyes. She looked down at Kylian, only a small figure from her seat in the stands. His shoulder was slumped, his entire body deflated. He had given his all, and yet he had lost.  Teammates and coaching staff alike kept coming up to him to comfort him. She desperately wanted to go over to him, to hold him, but she knew she couldn’t enter the pitch until after the medal ceremony. 

She saw him and his teammates retreat into the tunnels just as Messi lifted up the World Cup to the cheer of thousands. She turned to his family and friends,  with whom she’d been cheering in elation at Kylian’s equalizing goal just a few minutes ago. 

“Go” his father urged her “The only person he’d want to see right now is you”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She weaved her way through the stadium, flashing her VIP access lanyard when met with security, and asking for directions once or twice. She passed through the final set of security before finding herself outside the French team’s locker rooms. She informed the guard outside who she was looking for. He went inside, and moments later, came back out with Kylian. 

Her heart nearly shattered at the sight of him. He kept his head down, but she could see his eyes were bloodshot. Without a word, she wrapped him in a tight hug, feeling him shake silently in her embrace. She had never seen Kylian cry before. 

“Hey” she murmured softly. “It’s okay”

He buried his face in her shoulder, his breath hitching with each silent sob. Her own tears slipped down her cheeks. He gently let go a few moments later, and they sat down on the floor, leaning against the hallway wall. 

“I thought we had it” He said, his voice cracking. 

“ I know you did” She said gently, wiping a tear falling down his cheeks. “ You gave your everything. Sometimes it just comes down to luck, Ky. There’s nothing you can do about it” She took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. 

Kylian nodded, but she knew he didn’t believe her. Knowing him, this night would haunt him for a long time. 

“Thank you for being here” His voice was steadier now. He leaned his head on her shoulder. 

“Always” She whispered. 

They sat there for some minutes, watching the hallway slowly become filled with the families of the other players. Her heart warmed at the sight of Griezmann’s daughters comforting their father. Her thumb was slowly caressing the back of Kylian’s hand. Turning slowly, she kissed his forehead. She wondered if they looked like a couple just then, with their hands joined in her lap and her lips on his forehead.

                        

It was 2 days after that disappointing night in Qatar,  and two nights since Y/N had been unceremoniously dumped over the phone.

The weight of the defeat had lingered that night, sucking the energy out of everyone. By the time Y/N and the Mbappes returned to the hotel, the atmosphere was thick with sadness and disappointment. She’d gotten the call just as she’d walked into her hotel room. Lucas’ voice had been calm and detached as he’d delivered the news she had dreaded: their relationship was over. The entire conversation was a blur, but there were bits and pieces that stung so much it still echoed in her head. “ I don’t feel that connection anymore” to “I’m clearly second choice here”  and “you’ve been lying to yourself all this time”. She’d cried herself to sleep, overwhelmed by a storm of heartache and confusion.

She had planned to go straight to Madrid after the final but decided to hide out with her parents in Paris for a couple days. It was now the 20th, Kylian’s birthday. She hadn’t spoken to him since coming back to Paris, caught up in her own heartbreak, but she’d received an invitation for a birthday dinner via his assistant. It took everything in her to drag herself out of bed and to get ready. 

The restaurant was one of the most famous in Paris, and Kylian’s personal favorite. He’d reserved the entire space for his friends and family. It was cozy, with dimmed lights and ambient music  blending in with the chatter of the guests. A single long table stretched across the room, dotted with candlelight. 

As Y/N made her way through the room, she greeted everyone –  Kylian’s parents, his brothers, his closest teammates, his close friends, and other acquaintances. To her embarrassment, she’d been the last guest to arrive. His assistant guided her to the only open seat left, right next to Kylian. 

“No one wants to sit next to the birthday boy?” She quipped as she took her place.

“Was saving it for you” He replied. He looked handsome in a blue Dior sweater and black denim jeans. His tan from Qatar was already fading, and he had a small smile playing on his face. They chatted for a bit, asking each other about their respective heartbreaks, before becoming engrossed in the lively conversations surrounding them. 

At one point, they caught each other’s eyes. The candlelight was casting strange shadows on his face. She smiled at him, and without thinking, poked at one of his dimples. “I’m really glad you were born, by the way”

“ I know” His eyes sparkled with amusement. His  arm was draped casually over the back of her chair, their faces close. He  gently tugged at a single braid of her hair with his other hand and murmured, “I like your hair like this. It’s new right?”

It was indeed new. She’d decided to try boho braids for the first time. 

You deserve someone who gives you their full attention and consideration, you know. 

Someone cleared their throat, and they sprung apart. It was the waitstaff, ready to serve appetizers. They spoke sparingly as they ate. Kylian, the menace that he was, kept reaching for bites from her plate. She elbowed him whenever he did, but she didn’t hesitate to steal from his plate as well. 

After everyone had eaten and all the food was cleared, a huge cake with 24 individual candles was brought out. She made sure to take a video of Kylian smiling as everyone sang Joyeux Anniversaire, giggling at how awkward he looked. 

“Make a wish first!” Someone called just as he was about to blow out the candles.

He paused,  his gaze locking with Y/N’s over her phone screen as he playfully pointed a finger at her. He continued blowing out his candles, never breaking eye contact with her. A chorus of laughter came from the guests at his antics, and Y/N felt her face burn as she put down her phone. 

“He’s so down bad for her…” She could hear Tchaga snigger. Another ripple of laughter broke out from the guests at his comment. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her at that moment. 

The laughter and celebration gradually tapered off after some time, and Y/N and some other friends were invited by Kylian to his apartment for some drinks. He had training the next day and didn’t want to do some heavy clubbing. 

The sound of easy laughter and the clinking of glasses filled Kylian’s apartment. Y/N and Kylian were sitting on the couch in his living room, their bodies close together despite them being the only occupants. They were reminiscing about the time Kylian had tried to convince her to play in a school tournament. There was a rule that the teams had to be mixed, and not a lot of girls wanted to play. He’d begged Y/N to join, and she’d reluctantly accepted on the condition that he’d buy her a teddy bear if they won.  They were playing for a plastic trophy that cost 2 euros, yet Kylian treated it like it was life or death. They won, and Y/N got her teddy bear.

“I still have that teddy bear, you know” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. It’s probably my favorite gift I’ve ever received”

He hummed, clearly pleased. She didn’t know when and how, but her leg was slung over his. His hand was on her, his fingers softly tracing lines up and down her calf. 

“So, I’m your birthday wish huh?” She knew she wouldn’t be bold enough to say those words any other time, but here they were. The physical proximity was like a promise of something greater happening. 

“Yup” He met her eyes confidently, his eyes shining. 

“Maybe you should’ve started small though. Like a kiss?” She tried her best to sound flirtatious.

He laughed, “Ok. Let me redo the wish”

He cleared his throat and closed his eyes, a small smile still playing on his lips. He put his palms together as if in prayer and said in a deep, affected voice, “ Dear Universe, for my 24th birthday, I wish to receive a kiss from Y/N”

Without skipping a beat, she leaned in and slanted her lips over his. She could feel his breath hitch, like he hadn’t expected her to do that. It hardly took a second for him to kiss back though. It was slow, sensual. Tender and exploratory. His tongue brushed her lips before slipping inside, and she welcomed him with a soft sigh. The hand that had been on her calf quickly moved to her hips, and his other hand gently cupped her face. Her stomach was a puddle, and she was glad that they were sitting down because she was sure her knees would’ve given out if they were standing. The kiss deepened and went on and on and on, until they had to break away for air. He looked dazed, his lips glistening from her shiny lipgloss.

He quickly put his lips back on her, but Y/N pulled away.

She pressed her lips over his ear and murmured, “You need to tell everyone to leave. Now”

Kylian quickly waved Tchaga over and whispered in his ear urgently. Y/N didn’t feel a trace of shame when Tchaga shot her a knowing, teasing look. She was just happy that he was making quick work of announcing  that the party was over and ushering everyone out of Kylian’s apartment.

No sooner had the apartment emptied and the door slammed behind Tchaga that she climbed his lap. She was able to get one sloppy kiss in before Kylian pulled away breathlessly. “We need to get to my room”

And so he hoisted her up and effortlessly walked them all the way up the stairs and into his bedroom. They kissed fiercely as he gently put her down on his bed. Kylian scrambled out of his sweater as she unbuttoned her shirt. He helped her out of her skirt and then her tights. 

She rolled over and climbed on top of him, finding him as ready as she was. Lustful brown eyes stared openly at her pale pink underwear. “Do you have?” She asked frantically. 

“Yeah, in the drawer”

She leaned sideways, stretching her body to reach the bedside drawer. She found the box pretty easily and grabbed one from it. He was still staring at her hungrily. With shaking hands, she unhooked her bra and took it off.

He kissed her neck, her breasts, her stomach. Her hands caressed his biceps, his chest, his torso. This was years of desire she’d harbored, finally unleashed. His mouth brushed over her lower torso before his fingers deftly removed the last remaining piece of clothing on her body. She unbuckled his belt buckle and removed his jeans and boxers at the same time. His breathing was shallow and rapid as she ripped the foil open and rolled it on him. She lowered herself onto him slowly, and they both gasped. 

They were chest to chest, their hearts drumming together. They moved together in a steady rhythm, watching each other, checking in on each other with their eyes. Is this okay? How about this? And this?

She wanted him closer, deeper. It was never enough. They breathed into each other's mouths, tongues meeting sloppily. Breaking apart, their foreheads met. Their eyes said a million little things at once. Time and space had no meaning anymore for Y/N. There was only Kylian.

* **************

It turned out that if you’d wanted something badly for a very long time, and then you finally got that thing, it didn’t necessarily mean that you'll have enough of that thing. Sometimes, it could leave you wanting more and more. Case in point: Y/N.

They woke up midday with bodies hot and sweaty and limbs tangled together in the sheets. They had laid there for an hour or so, kissing languidly. He somehow already knew what she liked, the moves that made her moan and gasp. 

“I could do this forever” he’d murmured as his lips softly trailed after hers.  But his alarm rang out just then, a stark reminder of real life. They both sighed reluctantly as they pulled away. He had to get up and get ready for his afternoon training. 

She laid there, silently watching him get dressed. She was mesmerized by every movement of his beautiful, lean yet muscular body. Her own personal Adonis. It was a wonder she’d been able to keep her hands off him. He caught her looking at him and smirked, winking at her. She just rolled her eyes.

Once he’d gotten ready and packed his bag, he came over to her on the bed and showered her face with affectionate kisses. “I’ll come back in the evening. Feel free to just chill here.”  He said between kisses on her forehead, lips, cheeks, chin.  “I’ll leave a spare key by the door though”

She nodded happily, giving him one last tender kiss. He stepped out, and she was left to bask in the lingering warmth of his affection. Her mind replayed the memories of the night before, and she felt like the happiest person alive. Now that she got a taste of him, she wanted more of him. As if on cue, her phone pinged with a text. 

Ky: I miss you already 🙁

She giggled, quickly typing out a I miss you tooo before getting up and hopping in the shower. It was only when she got out that she realized she didn’t have a change of clothes, and unless she wanted to walk into her parents apartment dressed the same way she’d left it yesterday, she needed to put on something else. She walked into Kylian’s closet and  grabbed the nearest T-shirt and sweatpants, as well as some slippers. She quickly snapped a mirror pic after changing and sent it to Kylian, typing heading to my parents for a bit.

The reply was almost instant.

Ky: 😍 😍

Ky: don’t forget to grab stuff you need.

She smiled, loving the implication she’d spend the night again. At her parents, she grabbed Kylian’s gift that she’d forgotten to take with her the night before, as well as a change of clothes. She came back to Kylian’s place and answered work emails and completed other miscellaneous tasks concerning her job.

He was back in the early evening, just as promised. The passion of the night before had faded and the afterglow of the morning had subsided, meaning there was nothing to embolden either of them. Thus, they treaded lightly around each other. Their looks were furtive, their touches tentative. Kylian, the least shy person she’d ever met, had somehow turned uncharacteristically quiet. Yet, they were both undeniably giddy. She could see it in the way he broke into an inexplicable smile whenever he caught her eye during dinner, and in the way she was in the best mood she’d been in for a long time. 

This illusion of coyness evaporated as they settled on the couch after dinner, Kylian turning on a tactical video the PSG staff had instructed him to view. The video was on for less than 2 minutes before their focus shifted entirely and they began to make out. 

“You’re too distracting,” he said between kisses as she giggled. 

“Yeah?”

His lips shifted to her neck. “I think kissing you is my favorite thing to do”

He was biting there, sure to leave a mark. 

“Well second favorite” he corrected himself.

She took off her T-shirt and straddled him. He continued, his hands softly gripping her waist “Second place is kissing you. First place is obviously playing football—”

He was momentarily interrupted as she took his own T-shirt off. “—tied with fucking you”

His shit eating grin was the last thing she saw before he flipped her over and sent her sprawling comfortably on the cushions. 

It was unfortunate that they had a game on new year’s eve, but Y/N liked the ambiance at the Parc des Princes. The stadium was buzzing with a special, festive energy for Kylian’s first match after the World Cup final. She was seated in the VIP section along with his parents, brother, and Tchaga and had jumped up and down when Kylian scored the last minute winner. He’d never say it, but she knew he needed that confidence boost. 

In the past week, she’d gotten to know a completely different part of him –  one her lovesick teenage self could only have dreamed of, and that her more cynical young adult self had never thought she’d experience. 

For example, she’d always known that he loved taking care of his loved ones, but she hadn’t spent a single dime during her stay with him. Any purchases she thought of making, he insisted on paying for. He’d even surprised her with a package containing everything from her wishlist after he saw her browsing her favorite store online. His generosity extended to small things like sharing food (which he was notoriously known for disliking), and thoughtful gestures like arranging a work space for her in one of his spare rooms. He endearingly loved using pet names, alternating  between “bébé” and “chérie”, and her heart did somersaults when she heard him use those in everyday conversation. 

She learned intimate details too, thanks to their newfound physical closeness. The birthmark on his lower back that she loved pressing kisses to. How scratching his head would put him to sleep almost instantly. She learned about his preferences as well; he was most definitely an ass man –  it was evident by the way he never passed up a chance to feel her up when they were by themselves.  Now, she committed everything she learned to memory, seeing Kylian in hues she never thought existed. 

The days after his birthday were perfect to her, it felt like she was living a dream. Lucas and Madrid were so far from her mind that it was as if the break up had happened a year ago. The person she’d been pining after for ages seemingly liked her back. She was at her happiest. 

There was one issue that gnawed at her, however. It bothered her that they had never spoken about what they were, or where their relationship was heading. She’d thought that the fact they had slept together was a mutual admission of serious feelings, that they had an unspoken agreement. Yet, the more she thought about it, the more she realized they hadn’t actually talked about it. The first two days or so, she’d been on cloud 9, swept away by the euphoria of it all. But now, as reality set it, it was torturing her. 

A buzz of excitement filled the VIP lounge as a small crowd gathered around the entrance. She suspected it was Kylian and his entourage; he’d promised to come up to the lounge after the game. Sure enough, in walked Kylian’s bodyguards, followed closely by the man of the match himself. 

He made the rounds first, meeting all the important people in the room, taking pictures and making small talk. He finally made his way to his family and friends. He came to Y/N last, and there was an awkward shuffle when he went in for a peck on the lips as a greeting, and Y/N instinctively aimed for his cheek. They laughed it off, and she gave him the kiss he’d wanted. Ethan let out a loud “ew!”, and Y/N flushed, looking at the ground. So far, none of their family and friends had had visible reactions to the recent developments in their relationship. No one had said anything when they’d shown up holding hands at Kylian's family Christmas party a week ago; it was almost like they expected it, as if they believed this was the natural culmination of Y/N and Kylian’s 10+ years long friendship and not an unexpected turn of events. 

“ I have something for you” she murmured after it was just the two of them speaking, indicating a small gift bag she was holding. 

He raised his eyebrows. “Oooh. What’s in there?”

“It's your birthday gift” She said as she handed it to him. “I was supposed to bring it to dinner but I forgot. I brought it to your apartment the next day but it slipped my mind again”

“And here I was thinking my gift was the mind blowing sex” He said grinning. 

She shoved him playfully, rolling her eyes. As he reached to open the bag, her stomach started fluttering. 

Someone slid up to him just then, whispering in his ear.

“ Give me one second, I’ll be back” he said apologetically as he dropped the bag on the nearest table and was whisked away, no doubt to meet some other important person that was there to see him. 

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. The gift was a scrapbook she’d made herself, chronicling their long friendship. She’d hoped it would help open up the conversation about their current situation.

“Fancy a drink?” 

It was one of the waiters, holding a tray of colorful looking drinks. She graciously took one.

“New here? I’m never seen you in the lounge before”

He seemed polite enough. “Uh, yes. I’m here with…my boyfriend” She tested the word on her lips, her eyes on Kylian across the room.

The waiter followed her gaze and snorted. “He has a girlfriend? I’d sooner believe Macron quit the presidency to be a mime”

He blanched as soon as he realized she was serious. “I- I meant-”

“What?”

He looked at the ground. “He just- I see a different model every other week here. They're almost always his guests”

She opened her mouth, but he beat her to it. “Look, just forget I said anything. It’s not my place.” He looked at her pleadingly. “Please don’t get me fired”

He scurried off before she could say anything. 

She glanced at her gift bag, left forgotten on the table. He was now taking pictures with a group of older people. Her eyes started to well up, and she walked out of the room. She kept going until she found herself outside, ordering an Uber. She sent him a text as she got in the car:

Y/N: going home to deal with some stuff, think I’ll spend the night there

She closed her eyes, tears now sliding down her cheeks.

She barely slept that night, spending hours on her phone looking up the many women Kylian had been linked with. She went through their instagrams, her mind treacherously comparing each one to herself, as if she could measure her worth against their curated, seemingly perfect lives. She came across photos of Kylian on yachts, laughing with bikini-clad blondes. The comments on the photos only twisted the knife deeper – some criticized him as a “playboy” , while others mocked him with a dismissive “typical footballer”.  Each photo was like a dagger to her heart.

But it was the final blow that left her breathless: blurry photos of Kylian leaving a club with a girl, taken just a month ago, in November. It was that recent. It all made sense now,  why he’d never made an effort to have a serious conversation about their relationship. He liked his current lifestyle, focusing completely on football while indulging in a fleeting series of flings from time to time. She was nothing special, just another name on the long list of women he entertained. 

What shattered her the most was that he had no consideration for their friendship, that he could throw it away just like that for some sex. He had traded something she deeply cherished for something else he considered transient, meaningless. 

By the time dawn broke and the first light filtered through her curtains, she was resolute. Dragging herself out of bed, she made her way to the kitchen and was shocked to find her parents sitting and laughing with Kylian. 

His face brightened as soon as he saw her. “Morning chérie” he greeted, the pet name failing to make her stomach flutter this time.

“Dropped by to check on you” he continued. “You weren’t answering my texts”

It was intentional, of course. Seeing the tired look on her face, her parents moved out of the kitchen to give them privacy. She sat down beside him slowly, and his face twisted into concern. 

“Is everything ok?” He went to grab her hand but she snatched it away quickly. She didn’t miss the hurt look on his face.

“I- uh. I’m ok” She didn’t know how to approach the conversation. “Did you finally open my gift?”

"What? Your gi- oh. Yeah. I did”  She could clearly see through the lie.

“Kylian” She warned, her tone sharp.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking guilty. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot. But it still has to be there though, no one will take it”

“What the fuck, Kylian?” her voice rose, frustration spilling over. “You didn’t even take it home with you?”

He frantically reached for his phone. “I’ll call and get someone at the club to look for it. I’ll get it back, I promise”

She snatched the phone out of his hand, her eyes blazing  “I spent a lot of time on it. I can’t believe you did that, it's like you don’t even care”

He looked at her earnestly. “You know I care, I care about you a lot”

“Is that what you say to every girl you sleep with?” She couldn’t help it.

“What?” He looked at her incredulously. “ No. This is different. You’ve always been different”

“I find that hard to believe, Kylian” She muttered, her voice quivering.

“Why?” He challenged her, his confusion mingled with frustration. “Why would you think that?”

“Because” her tears spilled over “You’ve been uncommitted forever”

“Well maybe that’s because the one person I would’ve liked to be committed to was in another country, wasting her time on some asshole” 

“Then why not now?” She spoke through tears. “I’ve been sleeping in your bed for a while now, Ky.”

“I was trying to give you time” His voice shook. “You broke up with that idiot literally 3 days before we hooked up. I  thought you weren’t ready”

He looked at her pleadingly, his eyes desperate. 

“I don’t know, Kylian” She laughed bitterly. “you said it yourself, don’t trust athletes”

She saw a tear falling down his cheek, and she was struck by the sight. She never thought the second time she’d see him cry, it would be because of her.

She weighed the possibility of making it work – a long distance relationship, with her in Madrid and him in Paris. They’d see each other infrequently, her being tied to Madrid with work and him to Paris by the relentless demands of football. They’d miss birthdays, anniversaries. She’d never be able to take him to an office Christmas party. Maybe she’d be able to go with him to things that mattered to him, like award ceremonies, but only because his career would take precedence over hers. She’d hear whispers about his potential infidelities, but she wouldn’t say anything. Until the resentment feels so suffocating it bubbles up, and she’d have no choice but to end it. It would happen, whether months away or years down the line. And then they’d have to cut each other off forever.  She didn’t want that. She loved him too much. She’d rather have some of him than nothing at all. Perhaps if she ended it now, their friendship could be salvaged. 

She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, Kylian. I don’t think… I don’t think we should do this anymore”

They sat there silently for a few seconds. Then she heard a sniffle, and then the sound of his chair  scraping as he got up. She heard footsteps retreating, and then the sound of the apartment door open and slam shut. Only then did she let herself fall apart.

Her mother hurried into the room, looking very alarmed. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“Maman” she choked out between sobs. “I need to book a flight back to Madrid”

[meanbossart]

Is Drow the type to just walk around the house/camp in his shorties like he is in that haircut pic you just dropped? If so, how does Astarion feel about it?

Cause on the one hand what if guests come over/battle breaks out. On the other hand, i mean... Hard to complain about seein all that on display.

(Aaand now im thinkin bout DU drow fighting in nothin but the undies, all blood drenched and raking his hair back out of his eyes.)

Oh absolutely. At camp he probably kept fairly decent until they had all built a little rapport, more so in case he had to protect himself from the others rather than anything to do with shame - he would still change in front of everyone and move to-and-from baths butt-ass-naked. Basically, his mindset was "I will dress appropriately but I will not go to any lengths whatsoever to spare you people the sight of my ass. Also, look at how ripped I am and tell me if you still want to pick a fight".

I'm sure the longer the party was on the road for (which, in my personal headcanon was nearly a year) the more they all lost their inhibitions to the point where DU drow's behavior didn't even stand out that much, save for maybe Gale and Astarion who strike as slightly more protective of their dignities for their distinctive reasons.

And yes, he absolutely still does this any time they have a spot to call home, be it temporary or not. When DU drow wakes up in the morning he will just parade around in his underwear (or less) unless he has a reason to put pants on. Now of course he's just doing it to stay comfortable since he generally runs very hot and just enjoys the, uh, freedom.

Astarion probably used to think he did this for no reason besides to show off, but now he just understands it as one of his "quirks". I think unconsciously it might be comforting to him that DU drow is constantly making himself vulnerable around him, not to mention the slight power-play implication of one choosing to dress up every day while the other does not. Point is, there are a lot of reasons why he actually likes it, the sights provided being one of them of course LOL

Oh, and if they happen to have any surprise guests over Astarion would make zero effort to get DU drow decent. He is very hands-off when it comes to how he chooses to behave with/around other people unless there's good reason for it. If they take issue with the huge half-naked drow, they can go talk to him about it themselves.

[loveamongdragons]

Hey!! Im sorry, this is a really weird question and you really don't have to answer but I love your atla posts sm and they really make me think. Love your fics too. Here's the thing... I actually just know atla via fandom osmosis so I have no clue what you're talking about in this post:

https://www.tumblr.com/loveamongdragons/774408895286460416/hey-can-we-talk-about-this-as-apposed-to-this?source=share

Could you please elaborate? Thank you! I hope you're doing well, take care and stay hydrated! <3

Hey there! So happy you like my stuff ^^ it's not weird to ask at all, welcome aboard.

So, I concede that I might be grasping at straws here, but at the same time: the thought had randomly occurred to me and then dug its claws into my brain with no warning whatsoever.

My point is that the scenes at hand are quite similar: one person shoots an arch/circle of fire, and Katara is on the receiving end. Her reactions though differ significantly.

I find it intriguing, shall we say, that she shows zero fear when Zuko, "the face of the enemy", the guy that had spent the entirety of the show up until then hunting them, casts the fire in anger, but is petrified when Aang, her friend and love interest, casts fire in his chipper way. Like, isn't that curious?

In that same vein, it is curious how Zuko is the only person whom she ever shows the depth of her anger. You'd think that hurling all sorts of accusations at a person who you perceive to be your enemy, and whom you perhaps even believe to be evil at heart, might scare you a little bit? Or maybe you'd at least expect to deal with retaliation or something. Instead, Katara is perfectly comfortable with her anger around Zuko, up to the point where she turns her back on him in the Crystal Catacombs and starts to cry. With Aang though, she is consistently walking on eggshells and trying to stay amiable and motherly.

At the same time, she seems to be perfectly fine with Zuko's anger, too. For heavens' sake, she looks concerned and confused, and not scared in the slightest when Zuko shoots fire at them in the second gif. In regards to Aang, we get this line from Katara though: "I'm not saying the Avatar State doesn't have incredible and helpful power … but you have to understand … for the people who love you, watching you be in that much rage and pain is really scary."

Yeah, so it's as if Aang's bottled up feelings of pain and rage have always been more scary than Zuko's explicit pain and rage. And it's just curious how in those two scenes Katara has less trust in Aang's ability to control himself than when she encounters a pretty emotionally distraught Zuko - who both do the same damn thing, with VERY different consequences, of course.

Now, you could say: hey, it's just because Zuko was a proficient firebender, and Aang wasn't, and Katara thus knew she couldn't rely on Aang's abilities, but she could rely on Zuko's (and... girl... the way this alone sounds!). Which, I fully accept that this might be the case. But it still wouldn't take away from the fact that it's curious as hell that Katara did not show any sort of fear in that scene with Zuko, and the argument becomes interesting again when you imply that she even at this point had enough trust in Zuko that she didn't even perceive him as a threat.

I must say: I adore this scene! I love this encounter between Zuko and Katara because I think it's the first real emotional exchange they have. Katara offers to heal Iroh! She is concerned! He pushes her the fuck away. (Mirrors their later encounter beneath Ba Sing Se, too). Did Zuko spend the next days thinking about her offer? Did he wonder in secret late at night if he should have accepted? Did he find himself feeling cozy, warm, sad feelings towards her, and then pushing them away? Did he think about it when he met her again in the Catacombs, and then later at the Gaang's camp? Did she?

[eyezthecampcounselor]

INTRO! Last updated: May 13 '25

All dividers, graphics, and blinkies are not mine, credits go to the makers

Previous username: eyezdrawz 🙌 (rip)

👁️Hi I'm Eyez! Or Mr. Fregoli or just Fregoli or graham. you can even call me Margo if you wanna get formal with me.

🏳️‍⚧️Prns are he/him

I am a minor.

Don't repost my art without credit. I will block you.

⚠️DNI: ballads of a bluejay supporters (fuck off), Homophobes, Transphobes, pedos, proshippers, racists, bigots, fascists, people who make AI "art", and other idiots

I believe in peace and freedom for every country (ESPECIALLY FOR THOSE IN NEED RIGHT NOW!🍉)

⚠️Warning!: I post a lot of art that has gore in it. I also draw a lot of things that could be disturbing like distorted bodies, monsters, and eyes. I also talk about (and draw) possibly sensitive topics such as religion, mental and physical illness, and more. If this bothers you, you shouldn't interact.

Tags:

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♥️My qpp (y'all already know, talk about partner or qp stuff in general)

🎨My art (my art)

🥩eyez the chef (recipes, don't judge I like cooking)

I'm working on a new meet the artist so that will me coming!!

Woohoo here is are some of my links!

Prns page

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Art archive: eyezreblogz (this is just a blog where I just reblog my own art for archival purposes)

🎨OC master post: https://www.tumblr.com/eyezdrawz/763241944591761408/oc-master-post?source=share

Mutuals!!! Join my discord server!!

💥Things I like/fandoms I'm in under cut + kins +blinkies (under cut and on reblog, none are mine)

📻🎙️Podcasts: camp here and there (finished, main thing I post about), The Magnus archives (finished), malevolent (mostly finished), welcome to nightvale (started)

🎧🎶Music: Will wood, wwatt (fav), The Dear Hunter (fav), Amigo the devil (fav), American Murder Song (fav), Shayfer James (fav), Hozier (fav), The Hush Sound, Penelope Scott, Bear Ghost, System of a Down, Tally Hall, miracle musical, a verbal equinox and more!

(some of the singers and members in some of these bands, not all, are controversial/problematic and I do not support anything that they did (mostly referring to Joe Hawley from tally hall and Terrence from american murder song))

I also write my own songs and I am working on a band. No progress whatsoever on the band part tho😞

📺🎬Tv shows: Hannibal NBC (fav), Midnight Mass, Interview with the vampire (fav)

🎭🎞️Movies: interview with the vampire 1994 (fav), nightcrawler (fav), fight club (fav), no country for old men, silence of the lambs, moulin rouge (fav), fantastic mr fox, saving private Ryan, news of the world, strange way of life, dead poets society (fav), phantom of the opera, whiplash (fav), rango

✝️I really really like my ocs Mikeal, Santiago, Andias, Bernadette, and Aldyth (the church OCS) I post about them a lot.

📼I'm in the middle of a huge project with these characters, I can't decide between a podcast or a novel series but I'm currently working on the books. I have zero podcast experience so I'm kinda just experimenting with that.

✍️Other than working on those I am also a poet (I have written many many poems) and I also write non-fiction (mostly memoirs) and short story's of many genres.

I have OCD, Depression, GAD, SAD, Autism, and C-PTSD/PTSD (all are diagnosed/confirmed by professional) (I'm also getting help so YAY)

I have PCOS and anemia as well as chronic fatigue.

🍎Huge will graham fictionkin (I don't have a blog for it). I kin will so much it's scary. Juno chnt fictionkin. Deerkin and wolfkin (not therian I just feel very connected to those animals, think of it in a more spiritual way) I have more otherkins but those two are the most prominent and known. I am also a ockin. (@three-eyez-freak)and more

🦴I collect bones and I like vulture culture. I am also very interested in human anatomy and medical examinations (I'm not an expert I just think it's neat).

Secretly a freak (not so secret tbh)

I really like gothic lit like dracula, Jekyll and Hyde, Frankenstein, carmilla, and more.

I like vampires a lot. A lot lot. A whole lot. So expect that. Yeah.

Alright that's it, bye🥩

(graphics I like, none are mine)

[blighted-lights]

I want to know your thoughts on an opinion I have. I really hated part of that scene where Megatron and Ravage are talking and Megatron is like, you've seen the worst of the Decepticons. Want to join me? And I really hate this because shouldn't Ravage, as this ultra-loyal Megatron follower and skilled operative, BE and EMBODY the worst of the Decepticons, along with Megatron himself? Was she not there, totally endorsing Megatron back when Megatron was personally training the DJD to be the way they are, something he literally mentioned having done like, one issue before extending this offer?

hiii nonnie!!! thank you so much for the ask!

and i agree, the dialogue in that scene does kind of fit strangely, especially with the assumption that ravage has been close to high command and would theoretically already have seen much of the "worst" parts of the decepticon cause- whether that be the djd themselves, the camps like grindcore, the k-class, the six phasers, the abuse megatron dolls out to the other decepticons, or the genocides of billions of organics. the implication that this is suddenly ravage's first time witnessing the "dark parts" of the decepticon cause IS jarring, especially considering that ravage seems to be completely oblivious to the djd before this arc. to the point where ravage can't even identity the djd's scent on the split lost light, or even recognize the djd's handiwork.

when faced with the bodies left behind on the split lost light, THIS is ravage's reaction:

she's got no idea who did this! none!

as for ravage's opinions on the formation of the djd, i'm kind of split on this. we have zero information on who was involved in the djd's training, who supported it, ect. we have zero proof that ravage was supportive of the djd or even how much she actually knows about them or what they do, and given her reaction above and willingness to distance herself from the rest of the decepticons after witnessing it, i'd argue that she wasn't endorsing him. ravage isn't unaware of the fact that megatron has fucked up- we see her admit this in their first scene together.

ravage calls him a tyrant outright, references what she generously refers to as his "wobbles". she has a very idolized view of him, but it doesn't prevent her from being able to see that he has fucked up. she's just willing to look past his fuck-ups in favor of the idolized version of him she has in her head.

and it is somewhat difficult to pinpoint when this undying loyalty to megatron even started meta-wise, as ravage in prior comics shows no special interest or loyalty to megatron whatsoever. before mtmte, it's always been soundwave she looked to- not megatron. and the megatron ravage endorsed would be a pre-war/early megatron, anyways- long before the formation of the djd. given her reaction to the djd, i VERY much doubt she was in any way supportive of its formation or its practices. but what could she do about it? ravage doesn't have as much agency in comparison to those like soundwave and starscream. none of the cassettes do. though that is a whole different post worth of meta.

BUT! you're fully right. ravage isn't exempt from taking part in what the decepticons have done. i think her role is far more limited than the other big names we know, but it's not like she was kicking her feet off to the sidelines, lol. just because the people around her did much worse doesn't negate the fact that she was just as guilty in the things she was a part of.

this kind of got away from me, but yeah! i agree that the wording in that scene was somewhat odd and this shouldn't of been the first time ravage was faced with the dark parts of the decepticons. UNLESS. these "darker parts" were, for some reason, intentionally kept hidden from ravage in fear that she would leave the decepticons if she knew, which is what we see her do in mtmte. but that feels really unlikely. i really don't think ravage was some big supporter of the djd either, nor would she endorse it or megatron while creating it, but there IS a fair bit of hand-waving ravage does when it comes to what megatron and the decepticons have done in the past. though... that's kinda on-par for mtmte lmao

[operative-arrow]

OC Tag Game

Tagged by @introvertedfangrl Thank you for the tag this was fun!

Tagging @muqington for another Rook as well as maybe @basedonconjecture, @hyperions-light and you know what you have more rooks too so @introvertedfangrl TAG BACK (but zero pressure you're all busy)

OC: It's Radas!

General:

Name: Radas

Alias: rabbit knife-ear red Rook, in some timelines

Gender: Cis man

Age: 23

Spoken Language: Common, Antivan, Elven, some ancient Elven

Sexual Orientation: demi/pan

Occupation: hopeless romantic saving the world

Favorite:

Color: reds, yellow and orange

Entertainment: music, stories, people watching

Pastime: messing with scents, alchemy, playing flute

Food: He starts out with an appreciation for the kinds of foods you could cook in a camp. Soups, stews, that sort of thing. A good roasted vegetable or mushroom.

Drink: gingerwart tea! He also has a fondness for hot chocolate after Nico introduced him to it.

Have They…

Passed University: he has some learning through an alchemist he worked for, and the Veil Jumpers but no

Had Sex: He has had a couple partners, yes!

Had Sex in Public: Nope- well kind of, maybe? I suppose outside is public even if there's no public around

Gotten Tattoos: He has a few veil jumper designs around his body that a partner did, but he doesn't care for them and had no input on them whatsoever.

Gotten Piercings: He gets his ears pierced some time after meeting Taash and they suggest he could pull it off

Gotten Scarred: Yes! He has burns across his body from an artifact exploding, and a pair of scars on his neck: from the same artifact, and from a demon's claw

Had a Broken Heart: Kind of existed in a perpetual state of broken heart for awhile! None of his partners ever invested their emotions in him the way he tried to in them. So there was never a big fall, just more disappointment.

Are They…

A cuddler: YES. There is little Radas likes more than cuddling.

Scared Easily: I would say so. Not necessarily in a way where it rises to 'panic and run away' but he's definitely prone to feeling fear. Regardless of what he does afterwards.

Jealous Easily: Less jealous and more afraid ^ of being left behind. Trusting and open communication solves this problem entirely for him.

Trustworthy: Is he trustworthy? Yeah! If he says he's going to help or try something he will be doing his best to do so. Does he trust others? Yeah. He's been hurt a lot. He's been disappointed and driven away and mistreated. So there are some people he may take longer to get get fully trusted, but ultimately he trusts the people around him. The only other option is giving up on people entirely and that's not something he can/wants to do.

Family

Sibling(s): None that he knows of

Parents: They existed

Children: Probably not. Definitely wants them eventually!

Pets: Never had one before but he would enjoy the experience. He does love cats.

[inkedtension]

Something like a Pulse, 2.

This one's not much, but it will be better next part, I'm writing flashbacks please be patient!

Part-1

After that evening with Nanami.

It’s 10:37 a.m. The sun’s already biting at your eyes, even through the shade.

You lean against the railing outside the training field, the cold metal brushing through your sleeves. The morning’s quiet—except for some second-years screaming in the distance, probably over who drank all the vending machine milk again.

Yaga had caught you and Nanami just before you left last night, said Toge’s throat had been wrecked after pushing his technique too far again. Nothing permanent—he’d recover. But until then, he’d need one-on-one guidance. Quiet combat, precise movement, minimal verbal instruction. You.

You didn’t argue.

Now you’re staring at your phone. A recent curse in your life—thanks to Gojo Satoru, who insisted you “upgrade from that Nokia brick” and installed a new messaging app “for ease of communication and memes.”

You scroll through your contacts. You don’t have many.

You get Maki’s number from Shoko that morning. She sends Toge’s with zero questions and a thumbs-up emoji.

You open the chat. You type.

You: Come to the training field at 11:00 a.m.

Simple. Direct. Clear.

The typing bubble appears. Then disappears. Then returns. Then:

Toge Inumaki: i’ll skibidi ur gyatt lol

You stare. You blink. You lower the phone, check the number again. It’s the right one.

You: Pardon?

Silence.

The typing bubble shows for a split second. Then nothing.

You check the time. 10:52. You don’t move.

At 11:00 sharp, you’re standing in the middle of the field, arms folded. The wind rustles your turtleneck. You hear birds. No footsteps.

11:07. Your phone buzzes.

You glance down.

Toge Inumaki: OH MY GOD I’M SO SORRY SENSEI DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS YOU I SWEAR I THOUGHT IT WAS A BOT OR SOMETHING I’M NOT EVEN SURE WHAT A GYATT IS PLEASE DON’T FAIL ME I’M ALREADY IN ENOUGH PAIN I RESPECT YOU SO MUCH PLEASE I’LL BE THERE IN 3 MINUTES I’M RUNNING I BROUGHT WATER TOO

You stare at the wall of text.

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard.

You type:

You: Three minutes. I’m counting.

Then you lower the phone.

You don’t fail students.

But you do believe in suffering.

By the time Inumaki stumbles into the field, he’s half-dead from sprinting. Sweat-soaked, hoodie twisted, backpack dragging like he thought this was a camping trip instead of rehabilitation training. He bows so fast you think he might pass out right there.

You just turn.

And walk toward the target dummies.

He scrambles after you. Doesn’t say a word. Just unlocks his phone with shaking fingers.

Your phone vibrates.

Toge Inumaki: ty senpai 4 not nuking me

You ignore the message.

Instead, you gesture toward the field. The grass is marked by old blasts. There’s a shattered post still upright. You didn’t have time to fix it.

You toss him a practice knife.

He straightens. Nods. Face serious. The training begins.

Fifteen minutes pass.

Then thirty.

Your phone buzzes constantly.

You never check.

You glance at him. He’s looking at you with the most serious face he can manage.

You turn away again.

"You’re getting faster. Adjust your grip. You keep leading with your shoulder."

Toge Inumaki: ok ok coach don’t yell at me with ur mind sorry sensei-sama-dono-god-boss

You ignore that one too. You hand him another knife.

He probably realised you wont fail him whatsoever.

He texts mid-movement, mid-crash. It starts off cautious. Then strange. Then aggressively.

Toge Inumaki: no bc this technique training bouta make me rizzless training w u is like fighting a greek statue of judgment gyatt damn sensei

You raise your eyebrows, but never respond to any of it.

"Your left foot’s lagging. You’re losing momentum on turns. Rotate your hip fully."

He collapses into the grass and doesn’t get up.

You stand over him.

He types one-handed.

Toge Inumaki: if i die tell maki she can have my limited edition pokemon crocs sensei this is character development right am i your favorite now

You tilt your head. Say nothing.

He grins.

From then on, he starts walking closer. Not to flirt. Not to impress. But to poke the beast. To see if the cold, stoic phantom of a teacher will react to the stupidest slang possible.

Toge Inumaki: i made u a meme you’re mid in it tho jk ur valid ily sensei as a joke as a joke as a joke

You blink once. “Go run another lap.”

He groans so loud it echoes across the field.

You go back to checking his footwork, like nothing ever happened.

Post injury.

That night you were not allowed to patrol, and you slept in your house, dreamt of Geto Suguru and the night you spent in the shower rooms.

Flashback, Geto Suguru.

It’s too foggy to see clearly, and that’s probably why you don’t realize someone’s already in the shower room.

You’re sleep-deprived, ribs still sore from a cursed spirit that got a lucky hit. You don’t think twice before tossing your towel onto the nearest bench and stepping in. The water’s scalding but it doesn’t register. You scrub your arms, then your face, until it feels like something might come off. Dirt, maybe. Or skin. Or grief.

All you remember is steam. The thick kind — hot, choking — rising off the tile like fog.

You didn’t notice him until you’d already stepped under the water, stripped down, bruised and aching, hot spray running over your chest like it might peel your bones clean.

You bend backwards to rinse your hair, spine cracking, and—

There he is, across the stall.

Bent the same way. Water falling down his face. Black hair darker with wet.

Eyes locking with yours.

Who entered the wrong shower room again?

It should be awkward. Naked. Alone.

But you were two people who’d run out of the energy to care about shame.

A hard jolt — cough cough hiss — then the water slows to a pitiful trickle. You slap the faucet, annoyed. It sputters again, sprays sideways, then stops altogether.

You sigh, hand braced against the tile.

Then movement. From your left.

He walks over, still dripping from his own stall, muttering under his breath, and reaches around your faucet. Long fingers, callused palm. He hits something — a valve, maybe — and the pressure jerks back. Water floods the showerhead again.

You step back automatically, not thanking him, not sure if you're supposed to. He doesn't wait.

He just nods once, silent, and walks back to his own stall.

You return to scrubbing. The silence stretches. There’s only the hissing sound of the showers and your breathing, your fatigue, the growing fog.

You blink water from your lashes.

He steps out again.

You’re not sure why. Maybe he’s finished. Maybe he forgot something. Maybe he’s trying to remember something.

Steam curls around your ankles. A droplet falls from your jaw to your collarbone. The ache in your chest doesn’t go away, but it shifts. Something recognizes itself.

Eventually, he glances down at his hand.

He’s out of soap.

You reach blindly behind you and offer yours over the half-wall between stalls. He takes it without a word.

You’re rinsing your hair again when you catch it, he’s looking at you.

At your face. Your expression.

The blank way you stare into the spray, as if it might melt your face off and you wouldn't care.

You meet his eyes again. They’re tired and red now.

After the showers cut off and the steam begins to settle, neither of you move to get dressed.

You wrap your towel around your chest.

He wraps his around his waist.

You both sit on the bench, damp and silent, shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee.

The tile floor sweats beneath your feet, water dripping down from your wet legs. The lights buzz. It’s almost 2 AM. 

You don’t look at each other.

“Do you think they’ll ever stop sending us out?” you murmur, voice hoarse from the heat.

“No” Suguru replies. “They’ll stop when we die.”

You nod once.

He rubs his hand down his face, slow and heavy. “My last mission,” he says, “the curse cried.”

You glance at him.

He’s not looking at you.

“It was a mother who’d lost her son. The records said it killed three people, but I think they all deserved it.”

He huffs out a breath that isn’t quite a laugh.

“I still killed her.”

He’s not crying. But you feel like he wanted to.

You rest your elbow on your knee. “Mine was a two-headed child. It kept asking for its father. I crushed its skull with a brick.”

Suguru looks over, finally.

Your eyes meet again. You both look so exhausted.

So disgustingly young, and so impossibly old.

He speaks again, voice barely audible. “Why are we still here?”

You shrug. “Probably ‘cause we’re not brave enough to leave.”

His eyes stay on yours for a beat too long.

Then he chuckles. It’s a bitter, short sound.

“You’re awful company.”

“You’re worse.”

There’s a silence. Then another.

It stretches. Unspoken. Hollow.

Then he leans in, and kisses your lips.

And you don’t pull away.

It’s just lips at first. Chapped. Cold. Nothing special, yet it was soft. Gentler than you'd expect, it was softer and gentler than anything you've got from this world.

But you’ve both been so starved for something human.

You push your fingers into his hair. He cups your jaw.

It doesn’t feel like affection. It feels like surrender. Like two people giving in to the weight of the world pressing down on their ribs.

You don’t speak, your towels fall, eventually.

You let him touch you, you touch him back.

It’s not passionate. It’s just quiet.

A quiet that fills a silence neither of you could name.

After, you sit beside him on the cool tile, in towels again, back hitting the bench, as he lies with his head against your thigh, and you stroke his damp hair back.

He doesn’t say anything, just stares up at your face with those red-rimmed eyes, holding your wrist.

The next morning, you’re gone before he wakes up.

And when Suguru leaves the school month later, when he kills for the first time, when his name becomes something unspoken, you wonder if he remembers that night.

Because you do.

And when you saw his parents' dead bodies, you remembered how warm his hands had felt.

Next morning.

Gojo broke into your house. Mumbling how he's to make you his and marry you because he couldn't sleep alone all night as he was so worried about your injury. And, according to his calculations he should be dating you since the past 2 years, so you apparantly are. Now he's huffing and watching you sip tea with your ankles crossed.

Toge texts you. You feel the buzz.

Toge Inumaki: sensei r u having fun or r u funning from having feelings get it like running but FUNNING pls respond and get well soon

You don’t look up. You text back.

You: The next lap you run will be vertical

Post recovery. After a few days.

It’s 2:41 a.m. when you finally unlock your door, coming back from your first patrol after recovery.

You’ve just returned from a night patrol and a full day of dragging Toge across the training field while he texted you things.

Toge Inumaki: not to be dramatic but i’m gonna perish in ur arms if i do one more roll sensei u could never work at starbucks u could never spell my name right

Your back aches. Your neck is stiff. Your tolerance for idiocy is at its end.

You open the door.

There’s a long, loud thud at your feet.

Gojo Satoru is sprawled dramatically on the floor of your entryway. Face down. Shoes off.

Head turned slightly so he can peer up at you through half-lidded eyes.

“…Step on me,” he whispers.

You blink once.

Say nothing.

Then step over him.

“Hey—!”

“I’m not wasting the energy.”

He scrambles to his knees, still inside the threshold like a ghost that hasn’t been invited in. “What do you mean, not wasting? You can’t just ignore a perfectly good offer to assert dominance!”

You drop your bag on the chair. “You’re lucky I didn’t jump directly onto your spine.”

He pouts. “You knew I was here?”

“I knew you were following me. I didn’t think you’d break in again. That was… bold.”

He lifts a finger. “Technically, I just teleported through the wall.”

“Still breaking and entering.”

“Romantic.”

You sit on the edge of your new sofa—still a novelty—and start unlacing your boots.

Gojo doesn’t move from the floor. “I have a confession.”

“You’re dying?” you say flatly.

He gasps. “How did you know?”

You glance at him. His nose is red. His hoodie’s half-zipped. His voice is clogged like a toddler with allergies.

“You caught a cold.”

“This is the end,” he groans, collapsing onto his side. “I don’t have long.”

You sigh.

He looks up again, dramatically. “Will you take me to the rose garden? One last time?”

You pause.

“There’s no rose garden.”

“There could be.”

You say nothing.

He props his chin on his hand. “Just imagine. You, me, twilight. A bench under the trellis. Petals floating in the wind. You finally admit you’ve loved me all along.”

You finish unlacing your boots and stand.

He watches with gleaming eyes.

You walk into the kitchen.

He drags himself across the floor after you like a slug in heat. “I can’t die without closure…”

You open the fridge, now full thanks to his unrequested makeover. You grab the water bottle you left this morning. He leans against the doorway.

“I want roses at my funeral.”

You drink slowly. Turn to him.

“You’ll be cremated.”

He pouts harder. “What if I want to be reborn as a rose? In a rose garden you plant?”

You toss him a cold pack from the freezer.

It hits his shoulder.

“Fever dreams” you say.

He clutches the ice dramatically to his head. “I’m so brave.”

“I’ll call Nanami to come get you.”

He gasps. “You wouldn’t.”

You raise an eyebrow.

He scuttles to the couch. “Fine. But I’m not leaving until I feel loved. Or at least pitied.”

“You’ll be here a long time.”

He grins. “Good. I brought snacks.”

You watch him settle in, hoodie bunched at his neck, ridiculous energy radiating from every pore.

You walk past.

And drop a blanket on his lap.

“…Wait” he says quietly. “That’s not rejection.”

You don’t look back.

“Is it?” he calls after you.

The door to your room closes.

He grins to himself.

Nestles deeper into the couch.

And dreams of rose gardens he’s never seen.

Toge [11:23 PM]

did he come did he come did he come

You [11:23 PM] He reorganized my fridge.

Toge no bc sensei got that NPC behavior fr

You You’re supposed to defend your other teacher.

Toge i am defending he lowkey rizzed u up be honest

You You’re just typing words now.

Toge nah bc real talk sensei got that ✨emotional damage✨ mans saw u blink and thought it was character development sigma struggle

You You really hate him huh

Toge no bro(sry sensei) i respect him he’s the goat fr but like also a ✨Certified Goofy✨ bro got 20/20 vision and still can’t see ur not into him unless they stab him in the face he’s fighting for his life trying to get u to smile once

You I never said i wasnt into him?

Toge

Ohhhhhh so you do smilee

Toge not with ur face with ur aura i get it

Toge ur still in denial gonna bench press my cursed speech limit like a real sigma gyatt to maintain the grind

You [12:03 AM] Wait. You’re not joking, are you? He really like, actually likes me?

Toge [12:04 AM] sensei u bet on that skibidi he does man's gyatt more emotional bandwidth for u than cursed energy itself

You That makes no sense.

Toge neither does rearranging someone’s fridge alphabetically but he did that for u that’s not fake love that’s ✨soulmate grindset✨

You But he flirts with everyone.

Toge yeah but he don’t memorize nanami-senpai’s tea order he goes into NPC mode when u walk into the room like a glitching sim bro(sry sensei) down so astronomical even nasa gave up

You I thought he was just… being Gojo.

Toge nah this ain’t “just gojo” this is “gojo.exe stopped responding” mans been soft-launching his love since the heian period he waits for u like ur the update patch that’ll fix his entire life

You God. That’s… Weird.

Toge love is weird so is he so are u otp behavior tbh

You I hate this.

Toge no u don’t ur heart doing skibidi in ur ribcage rn don’t lie

Toge [12:12 AM] sensei HELP nanami-sensei looked at me like I committed tax fraud

You What did you do.

Toge I texted “live laugh slay” to him accidentally when he finished his mission debrief i forgot he isnt u I was SUPPORTING him like motivational speaker vibes??

You He’s going to put you in a casket

Toge pls save me you’re like the only human he listens to without judging help a lil bro out ill owe u like my soul my crocs

You : ....

Toge access to my gojo folder

You You have a Gojo folder?

Toge we all do some of us are just more honest about it

You Alright. I’ll fix this. In exchange. You tell me all the....weird things he’s said or done this week.

Toge BET

man whispered “i miss her voice” while looking at a pencil

drank soup with a fork “to prolong the experience”

tried to write a poem it started with “roses are cursed, violets are technique”

went quiet for 10 mins after u said goodnight one day. just stared into a mug like it held the meaning of life

You What mug?

Toge the one he stole from your cabinet says “world’s okayest sorcerer” he hugs it sometimes called it “a totem of her mild affection”

You You’re joking.

Toge sensei he calls ur mug "her relic" the mans is not okay like sigma core heartbroken sadboy arc

You I’ll talk to Nanami. You’re not off the hook yet.

Toge ily sensei ur the GOATest

Toge update: nanami-sensei said “ask her why she lets the world revolve around her silence”

You He said that?

Toge yeah like deadass real poetic for a salaryman also ino is now hiding behind a tree with another cat trying to impress him idk why u ppl r like this

You don’t know when exactly you made the mistake of letting Gojo Satoru into your life. Maybe it was when you let him walk beside you without telling him to buzz off. Maybe it was when you didn’t immediately ignore his idiotic attempts at flirting. Or maybe it was when, in a rare moment of weakness, you let him kiss your cheek and didn’t deck him afterward.

Now he's fixed you’re dating.

Now he won’t leave you alone, not after that 'incident' which he's so careful while mentioning because he's scared it'll happen again.

“Y/N” Satoru singsongs, leaning dramatically on your shoulder even though you’re standing. He manages to find the exact spot between your shoulder blade and collarbone that makes his weight feel heavier than it is. “Why do you always—mmm—is that leather? Ugh, you're so cool. I’m obsessed.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t even look at him.

You’re focused on your mission report, arms crossed, frame bent slightly as you scan over the document.

Satoru calls you his "goddess."

You call him an idiot.

He doesn’t take offense. Of course he doesn’t.

“Hellooooo?” he says again, this time poking your cheek with his gloved finger, stretching your stoic profile as if to mold it into something expressive. “Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong? Or do you not love me anymore? Be honest. I can take it.”

You slap his hand away—not hard, but not gently either.

“Don’t touch me” you say flatly.

He pouts. “But we’re dating.”

“No” you correct. “You’re dating the idea of dating me.”

He gasps, clutching his chest like you stabbed him. “You wound me. After everything we’ve been through.”

“What, like you clinging to me in bed because you get ‘night terrors’?”

“They’re real! The dark is scary, sweetheart. And you’re my safety blanket.”

“You’re taller than me. And stronger.”

He grins, clearly delighted you acknowledged his height. “Only by a little. It’s hot. We look like a power couple. Like—like assassins-for-hire who kiss after killing a guy.”

“Stop romanticizing everything.”

You start walking, and he follows immediately, shoving his hands into his pockets and grinning like a dog off-leash.

He trots beside you now, matching your long stride like an eager puppy.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” you mutter.

Satoru’s grin widens. “You noticed me. That’s basically affection. I should log this in my journal. ‘Day 36712: She acknowledged my existence with mild contempt. My heart fluttered.’”

You stop walking. He nearly slams into you.

“Are you done?” you ask, voice even.

“Never” he replies sweetly. “Not until you’re head over heels in love with me.”

You narrow your eyes at him. They’re cold. Expressionless. They look like they were carved from the same shadows you wear so well. He’s seen those eyes in battle — steel under blood — and he knows you’re not someone to be trifled with.

But God, he loves being trifled.

“I don’t do love,” you say finally. “It’s not real.”

He tilts his head. “That so?”

“It’s chemical. Stupid. It makes people weak.”

Satoru steps into your space. For a moment, the cocky flirt fades, and something quieter passes through his expression. Like fog lifting.

“I’m already weak” he says. “When it comes to you.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“I know” he says brightly. “But you’re still here.”

That’s the problem.

You are still here. You haven’t left. Haven’t told him to piss off permanently. And you could. You’re one of the only people capable of shutting him down — physically, emotionally, strategically. You’ve beaten him in sparring before. You’ve outmaneuvered him in the field. You’ve resisted every one of his flirtations with terrifying resolve.

Except once.

That one night. That stupid night when the cold got to your bones, and his arms were warm, and he came willingly to hug you, you let him be something soft in a world that was only ever sharp.

Now he won’t shut up about it.

“I made you breakfast” he says suddenly.

You blink. “It’s 3PM.”

“It’s never too late for pancakes.”

“I don’t eat pancakes.”

“I made them in the shape of your initials.”

You stare at him.

“Satoru” you say slowly.

“Yes, my queen of darkness?”

“If you keep talking, I will choke you out and leave your unconscious body in a supply closet.”

He beams. “That’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You do eventually eat the pancakes.

And the next time you’re on a mission, and he won’t stop pacing around you with annoying little remarks like

“Are you sure you don’t wanna hold hands while we exorcise this curse? For morale?”

you don’t punch him.

You let him walk beside you. Shoulder brushing shoulder.

And when he slips his hand into yours under the smoke and ruin of a leveled battlefield, you don’t pull away.

You squeeze once. Only once.

He grins so wide it might split his face.

There’s a muffled thud behind you. Familiar, light-footed, and completely unnecessary, like a child trying to sneak up on someone who already knows they’re there. You don’t turn around. Not yet. You cross your arms instead, eyes focused on the small stack of mission files on your desk. You’re not reading them—just pretending to. You’d rather stare at ink than meet those annoyingly pretty blue eyes.

“You didn’t answer my messages,” comes the exaggerated whine, petulant and thick with dramatic suffering. “Not even a heart emoji. Or a dot. Nothing. You left me to die in the dark…”

You sigh. “You’re literally the strongest.”

“I’m emotionally fragile,” Gojo replies immediately, like he’s been rehearsing the line. You can hear the grin in his voice. “It’s different.”

Still, you don’t turn. You hope the wall of your back will discourage him. It doesn’t. You know better.

“You’re wearing the same black outfit again. You know what that does to me.” There’s a soft shuffle of fabric, and suddenly his chin is perched on your shoulder, like a cat that’s claimed its perch. He’s warm, obnoxiously so, like the sun climbing onto your personal weather system. “You’re not even gonna say hi to your loving, loyal boyfriend? The one who fought three curses last night and didn’t even brag about it?”

You tilt your head just slightly, enough to side-eye him. “Go away.”

He gasps, clutching his chest like you stabbed him. “You’re so cruel. I bring joy and sunshine into your dreary, colorless life, and you tell me to go away?”

You lift an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“Okay, but like… what if I don’t?” he counters, looping his arms around your waist from behind and hanging off you. “Let me stay here forever. You’re my emotional support monolith.”

You roll your eyes and shake him off, which is harder than you’d like to admit. He’s clingy and deceptively heavy when he wants to be. Like a weighted blanket of pure chaos. You turn finally, looming over him, your expression unreadable, arms crossed again like a shield.

“You’re needy.”

“I’m in love,” he says, dead serious for once. “With a terrifying woman who wears black like she’s allergic to joy. I think that says more about me than you.”

You grunt. You’ve heard it all before. He thrives off reactions, and you refuse to give him the satisfaction. So instead, you pivot back to your desk, ignoring how his eyes practically sparkle as he trails after you like a kicked puppy.

“Why don’t you ever text me first?” he tries again, plopping down on your couch like he owns it. “Or compliment me? I wore the cologne you said didn’t give you a headache. That’s relationship growth. That’s commitment.”

You snort. “It’s basic decency.”

He groans, flopping dramatically. “Why won’t you just say you love me already? Or like me. Or tolerate me. Give me crumbs. Please.”

“Gojo—”

“I’ll take anything,” he interrupts. “An elbow touch. A blink in my direction. A silent nod that might mean you thought about me once for 0.2 seconds—”

“Satoru.”

He sits up, eyes wide. “Oh my god. You’re gonna kill me. You are the curse.”

You narrow your eyes. “You done?”

“Emotionally? Never. Mentally? Rarely. But I’ll shut up if—” he leans forward, propping his chin in his hand with a shameless grin “—you give me one nice word. Just one. Like, ‘I appreciate you’ or ‘You’re marginally tolerable.’ I’ll take a grunt that could be affection.”

You stare at him. He stares back. You hate how pretty he is. It’s infuriating. Like his whole existence is designed to test your patience. His white hair is a mess, and his blindfold is pushed up so his eyes are visible—dangerous, glittering, and wholly fixated on you like you’re the only thing in the room.

“You’re annoying.”

He beams. “That’s flirty when you say it.”

You groan, leaning your forehead on the desk. “Why me?”

“Because you’re cool, emotionally constipated, and make my heart go boom boom even when you look like you’d rather set me on fire.” His voice softens. “And because no one else makes me feel like being this clingy is worth it.”

You pause, just a beat too long. He notices. Of course he does.

“…You’re lucky I tolerate you,” you mutter.

He gasps again. “Wait—wait—hold on. Did you just—? That was a compliment. A literal compliment.”

You flick a pen at his forehead.

“God, I love you.” he whispers, grinning as it bounces off his skull. 

You ignore the sudden warmth in your chest and reach for the mission files again. If you look at him too long, you’ll actually smile, and that’s not allowed. Not when he’s already so insufferably pleased with himself.

Still, when he settles back onto the couch, humming some ridiculous love song and watching you like you’re his favorite show, you don’t tell him to leave again.

*

The knock on your door is too quiet. That’s how you know something’s wrong.

Gojo doesn’t knock. He bursts in like the world revolves around him—which, in his mind, it does. He usually makes his presence known with the sound of his obnoxious voice echoing down the hall, whining your name like it’s a song, demanding snacks, attention, or affection in that order.

But tonight, it’s just a soft knock.

You pause, halfway through pulling on a hoodie over your training top, and frown. You cross the room and open the door.

He’s standing there.

And he’s bleeding.

The white of his hair is matted with streaks of red. His blindfold is hanging from his neck, useless. There’s a cut over his brow, another deeper one across his side, staining the hem of his jacket. One arm is limp at his side, shoulder clearly dislocated. And yet, he’s smiling.

That same stupid, bright smile.

“Hi” he says. “You’re gonna be mad at me.”

Your fingers twitch at your sides. “Satoru—”

“I know,” he says quickly. “I shouldn’t have gone in alone. It wasn’t even a special grade, I just—well, okay, it became one. Surprise! Anyway, I handled it, but… yeah. Kinda got roughed up.”

You just grab him by the front of his bloodied jacket and drag him inside.

It takes fifteen minutes to clean him up. Mostly in silence.

He hisses when you reset his shoulder, muttering a quiet “ow, ow, ow” like a child trying not to cry during a shot. But he doesn’t complain beyond that. You wish he would, honestly. You’d know what to do with that. Jokes. Whining. The usual Gojo toolkit.

But instead, he’s subdued. Watchful. Studying you like he’s waiting for you to snap.

You finish wrapping his ribs and set the med kit aside.

“I’m sorry,” he says, suddenly. “I know you don’t like all the emotional crap, but if you hadn’t answered the door—”

You turn away.

You can’t look at him like this. Not when his smile is dimmer. Not when his hair’s stained and his body’s wrecked and he still said hi like it was just another tuesday. Like he wasn’t two minutes from passing out on your porch.

“You’re an idiot” you mutter. It comes out hoarse.

He perks up. “There it is. There’s my girl. C’mon, yell at me more. Scold me. Tell me I’m reckless and immature.”

You clench your jaw. “You are.”

He nods enthusiastically. “Right?”

“Satoru.”

Silence.

Your voice doesn’t sound like yours. You hate how it cracks. How the word lingers.

He looks at you for a long time. Then he does something worse than cracking a joke.

He leans forward, gently, rests his head against your shoulder, and wraps both arms around your waist. He holds you like you’re the thing keeping him grounded. You stiffen.

“…Don’t” you murmur, voice low, but you don’t push him away.

“'M sorry” he whispers into your hoodie. “I didn’t mean to.”

You stay silent. But your hands twitch. You should pull back. Tell him this is too much. You don’t do this—this closeness. You don’t do soft things.

But his breathing is shaky, uneven against your chest. The fabric of his jacket smells like blood and smoke and something vaguely like—his cologne. The one you said didn’t suck. Of course he remembered.

You exhale, defeated.

“Fine,” you grumble. “Come here.”

You guide him down onto your bed, muttering curses the entire way, scolding him for being heavy, dramatic, a damn child. He grins the whole time.

“I’m taking care of you. That’s all this is,” you say stiffly, pulling a blanket over both of you. “It’s not romantic.”

“Sure” he says, smug and slurred with exhaustion, already curling into your side like a human octopus. “Totally not romantic. Just let me borrow your warmth, o’ monolith of stoicism.”

“You’re injured” you snap.

“Mm-hm.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Love you too, very much.”

You stiffen at that, then sigh. Again. Somehow he always wins.

But you let your arm settle around him.

Just this once.

Just until he’s better.

You stare at the small bag in your hand like it personally offended you.

It crinkles loudly when you shift your grip. You hate the sound. Hate how bright the packaging is. Hate how the cashier looked at you like you were picking up candy for a child—“they must really love sweets!” she’d said, smiling. You grunted something noncommittal and left before you had to explain that no, they weren’t for a child. 

They were for an emotionally volatile adult man with godlike power and a clinginess problem.

He’d been laying low for a few days after the injury. Mostly in your apartment. Not that you invited him. He just never left.

He’d complained once or twice about being “sweet-deprived,” in that dramatic, wounded-bird way of his—“how am I supposed to heal without sugar? You’re literally starving me of serotonin.” You’d rolled your eyes and ignored it. At least out loud.

But you remembered. And now here you are, standing outside your own door like a fool, with a bag of hand-picked lollipops clutched in your fist like it’s a bomb you’re about to throw.

You hate this. You hate him.

You open the door anyway.

He’s on your couch, of course. Draped across it like a Victorian ghost, arm over his eyes, long legs taking up the whole damn thing.

“Welcome home, dearest” he says without looking up. “I made myself at home. As usual.”

“I can see that.”

“You were gone forever. I almost perished. Where were you last night—some silent mission? An underground cage match?”

“Patrol.”

You walk past him and drop the bag on his chest.

He squawks. Like a literal bird. “What is—?”

You sit down next to him, arms crossed, eyes on the wall. “Lollipops. For your… thing. Your sweet tooth or whatever.”

Gojo lifts the bag slowly, reverently, like it’s sacred. He peeks inside. His eyes go wide. “You got the strawberry milk swirl ones. And the peach rings. And—oh my god, is this the sour cherry kind I like that only that weird little convenience store carries? Are you kidding me?”

You grunt. “It’s just candy.”

“This is a declaration of love,” he says seriously, shaking the bag at you. “This is intimate. This is so hot. You are wooing me. This is level 6 seduction.”

“I will punch you.”

“I’d ask for it.”

You finally glance at him and immediately regret it. He’s glowing. Practically levitating with joy. He’s holding one of the lollipops like it’s a bouquet of roses. His smile is so bright it makes your teeth hurt.

“Don’t read into it” you mutter. “I was already out. You kept whining. I didn’t want to hear about it anymore.”

“Oh no” he gasps, leaning closer. “Did the ice queen bring me candy to shut me up? Is this how you show affection? I love this for us. Please keep threatening me while giving me sweets. I’ve never been more emotionally stimulated.”

You cover your face with one hand. “I should’ve left you bleeding on the porch.”

“You didn’t, though, and now you’re bringing me snacks like a 7-foot tsundere care package.”

“I’m not seven feet tall—”

“You’re taller than me when I’m slouching, and that’s emotionally significant.”

You turn toward him finally, expression sharp. “If you say one more word—”

He cuts you off by leaning over and planting a loud, obnoxious kiss on your cheek.

You freeze.

He pulls back, grinning so hard it’s a miracle his face doesn’t break in half. “Thanks, sweetcheeks.”

Your fists clench. Your eye twitches. Your whole face burns.

But you don’t shove him away.

And when he cracks open the lollipops and offers you the first one—“you get first pick, sugar supplier’s rights”—you grumble something and take it.

He leans his head on your shoulder after that, humming as he unwraps one for himself.

You let him stay there.

*

Gojo’s been quiet all morning.

Which, in Gojo terms, means only two full monologues about dream scenarios where you finally “give in and marry him” and exactly one dramatic sigh every ten minutes instead of three. But for him? Practically mute.

You don’t trust it.

He’s curled up at the far end of the couch, hoodie swallowing his lanky frame, hair sticking up like he lost a fight with a pillow. He has a lemon lollipop in his mouth and is very, very busy staring at the ceiling.

You narrow your eyes. “What are you sulking about?”

His head lolls to the side. He blinks at you. “Me? Sulk? Nooo. Not me. I’m just sitting here, thinking about the fact that I’ve laid my entire heart bare before you, multiple times, and yet…” He gestures vaguely toward you. “The mysterious, shadow queen remains emotionally unavailable.”

You roll your eyes. “I literally brought you lollipops two days ago.”

“And I treasure them. I’ve named them. I made them a shrine in your kitchen. But,” he says, dramatically flopping backward, “a man needs words, darling. I can only read so much from aggressive gift-giving and emotionally stunted cuddling.”

You stare. Then go back to sharpening your knife. There's a blade in your lap, a cloth in your hand, and irritation running deep through your veins.

“You’re exhausting.”

“I’m dying of affection deficiency.”

“You’re fine.”

“I’m fading,” he whimpers, sinking lower into the couch. “You’re watching your beautiful, loving boyfriend wither in the prime of his life. And all I want is—oh, I don’t know—a whisper of affection. A stray pet name. A single sentence that proves you don’t just tolerate me like a flea-ridden cat who won’t leave your doorstep.”

Your eye twitches.

You wipe the blade clean.

Then you stand.

Gojo watches you like he’s expecting to be stabbed. Which, to be fair, wouldn’t be that far out of character.

But instead, you walk over, towering and glowering, until you’re standing right over him, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

He blinks up at you. “Baby?”

You sigh. Loudly. Aggressively.

“I don’t do soft,” you mutter.

His lips part.

“I don’t like romantic crap. I don’t like saying things I don’t mean. So if I say something—if I ever do—then you better not make it a thing. Don’t drag it out. Don’t ruin it.”

He’s perfectly still.

“Because I swear to god, if I give you one real moment and you turn it into some weird dramatic musical number, I will disappear. I will evaporate. You will never find me again.”

His throat bobs. “Okay…”

“So,” you continue, each word sharp and reluctant like they’re being ripped out of you, “if I say—hypothetically—that I like having you around. That you’re not entirely insufferable. That sometimes, I think about you when you’re not here, and it doesn’t make me want to punch a wall…”

His lips part.

“…If I say those things,” you finish, voice low, “it means something.”

Silence.

Long. Tense. Emotionally dangerous.

Gojo stares at you like he’s just been struck by lightning in the middle of a flower field.

And then—predictably—he melts.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, grabbing your wrist and pulling you down into his lap like you don’t weigh more than a loaded war machine, and wraps his hands around you. “You love me.”

“I did not say love—”

“I heard it! My ears are trained! That was your version of ‘I love you’ and I accept it and I love you more, I win!”

“You’re the worst—”

“Say it again. I’ll be normal this time, I swear.”

“You just proved you won’t.”

“Please, babe. Please. Just grunt in a tone that suggests affection. That’s all I need.”

You groan and press your forehead to his shoulder in pure, defeated exasperation.

He makes the most obnoxious squealing noise you’ve ever heard.

And then he kisses the top of your head. Gently. Quietly.

And doesn’t say anything else for a while.

Which is good because you don’t hate being in his arms as much as you probably should.

[dancing-coyote]

*impishly pesters*

for Z: 🍷💄👠

for Jeannie: 🐞🎒

for Adze: 🍄

Oh no

Jeannie:

🐞 (ladybug) - What does a perfect day look like for your oc? What do they do? Who do they see?

A perfect day for Jeannie usually involves vanishing into the wilderness and enjoying nature. She might go hiking, swimming, or hunting, and she's liable to go alone (but she's not averse to company, if anyone wants to go with her.)

🎒 (backpack) - What items does your oc usually carry? Do they have a bag or just keep everything in their pockets? Do they carry a lot or a little?

She doesn't usually carry much on the average day - a knife, a sidearm, and a shoulder bag with her credit chit, comm, and any other small items she might deem necessary. She prefers to pack light when she's not packing for a fight, lol

Z:

🍷 (wine) - Does your oc drink? What kind of alcohol do they enjoy? What are their drinking habits? What kind of drunk are they?

Ya girl has never so much as sniffed alcohol lmao The first time she tries it is probably going to be the last because she doesn't particularly like feeling intoxicated.

(She's also an embarrassingly cuddly drunk which has NOTHING WHATSOEVER TO DO with her avoiding alcohol, nope.)

💄 (lipstick) - What does your oc think of their face? Do they have a positive or negative opinion? Do they wear makeup? Do they have a skincare routine? What traits do they like most about their face?

"Makeup" and "skincare routines" are also things that Z has zero experience with sldkjfslgs

She doesn't really have a strong opinion about her face - at least until she learns that she's the spitting image of her great-grandmother, at which point it's a bit. Bittersweet.

And if she had to pick a trait that she likes the most, she would say her eyes~

👠 (heels) - How does your oc dress? Are they stylish or casual? Do they keep up with trends or do their own thing? Do they prefer designer clothes or going to the thrift store? Do they have a signature item of clothing?

Z has a very utilitarian and low-key aesthetic. She's never had the opportunity to develop her own style or even shop for her own clothing - either it was provided by the ward, or it was provided by the military. When she finally has the opportunity to make her own choices, she probably short-circuits a bit and falls back on what's familiar and comfortable :')

Adze:

🍄 (mushroom) - Does your character like being in nature or do they prefer the indoors? Do they have any outdoor hobbies like camping or fishing? If they prefer the indoors, why?

Adze doesn't have anything against being out in nature, he just doesn't really get anything from it (Hatchet is the bigger nature appreciator, honestly.) So he's neutral about it, for the most part, and doesn't actively seek out "nature experiences."

[bellysoupset]

The last fic was intense, and I don't know if I'm right or wrong, but I feel that Luke hasn't yet experienced the miscarriage in the same way Bella has. Of course, he can't experience it physically, but even mentally, he's not there yet because so many things were happening: first, they moved, then what happened with Vince, and then this miscarriage. So far, we haven't seen that side of Luke. I want Vince to be there for Luke, just as Wendy was there for Bella, especially now that everyone knows.

And last but not least, we're missing the angsty Luke and Vince dynamic.

my favorite bromance♥️

Aye anon, I'm happy you read the fic, tysm! It really was a brutal one!

I do have to say, Luke's breakdown over the miscarriage isn't going to happen. I fully believe fathers feel the whole range of grief over such a loss, however Lucas had literal zero attachment to it in this case.

In Bella's case, she not only had to deal with the physical effects of it all, but she's already been entertaining the idea and thought it would've been a happy accident since the previous pregnancy scare. Luke, in the other hand, is very much camp "not now" and since they didn't know it until the miscarriage happened, he had no time whatsoever to form an attachment/change his mind. So his feelings around this ARE surrounding Bell, worrying about her and her mental health, than surrounding the loss.

He *will* face some of the general anxiety since they're both getting check-ups and there is the scary possibility he's not fertile, which will be brought up later as the story progresses, but right now this hasn't even crossed his mind yet, his angst is over Bella, the overwhelm of the situation and yes, about Vince too over the "I will end this friendship" line that Vin launched at him so carelessly.

And worry not, the Vin/Luke crash out is coming!

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Brief assessment of Maglor’s stint as king/regent while Maedhros was chained to Thangorodrim:

Not agreeing to Morgoth’s demands in order to get Maedhros back? Zero blame. It’s Morgoth. Morgoth cannot in any way be trusted. He’s going to break any deal he makes. The Silm explicitly states this (“the Sons of Fëanor knew that Morgoth would betray them, and would not release Maedhros, whatsoever they might do”).

Not rescuing Maedhros? Zero blame. There was no reason for him to think it was possible, and for most of that time it almost certainly wasn’t possible. Fingon succeeded because of 1) all the orcs and other creatures of Morgoth hiding inside Thangorodrim from the newly-created Sun and 2) Thorondor. Maglor didn’t have the former and, due to still holding to an oath that involved the committment and willingness to murder innocent people, probably wouldn’t have had the latter even in the very unlikely event it had occurred to him to ask. (Obviously, he still does get blame from me for the Oath.)

Not attacking Thangorodrim? He gets points for that, it would have been stupid to do so.

Not taking any action to explore Beleriand, make contact with other groups (Falathrim, Doriath), develop alliances with them, or really do anything at all that contributed to the Fëanoreans’ goals? That’s his key failure, that’s the part that makes him a bad king. (Granted there was no sun yet, but the Sindar managed without one for centuries.) It’s a wholly unnecessary delay. They’re in a fairly strong position as there’s not a lot of orcs at first (“from the [Dagor-Nuin-Giliath] returned of all the hosts that [Morgoth] had prepared for the conquest of Beleriand no more than a handful of leaves”), and they could have used that time to good effect rather than sitting around making no progress while Morgoth rearmed. Given that they had no reason to expect either the Sun or Fingolfin’s arrival, being locked into that kind of stasis is not a good indicator. It’s only after Maedhros’ rescue and abdication of the kingship to Fingolfin that “[the Noldor] sent forth messengers far and wide to explore the countries of Beleriand, and to treat with the people that dwelt there”. Fingolfin showing up makes a difference not only as reinforcements, but because he’s actually a proactive and intelligent leader.

(Bonus: Not abdicating to Fingolfin as soon as he arrives? I think that both morally and pragmatically it looks like the right call, except for the fact it would almost certainly have led to outright conflict between a Celegorm-led camp and Fingolfin-led one because I don’t believe Maglor had any ability to get his brothers to abide by it. But that lack of control over his brothers would also indicate that he’s a bad king.)

[chaztalk]

Rinkai!

Studio: TMS Entertainment (Fruits Basket)

Summary: Izumi Itō is a high school girl who loves cycling. After witnessing a race in which the best female bicycle racers compete against each other, Izumi vows to become a bicycle racer with her friends.

A Salad Bowl of Eccentrics (Henjin no Salad Bowl)

Studio: Synergy SP (Major), Studio Comet (Initial D)

Summary: While trailing someone, the poor detective Sousuke Kaburagi runs into Sara, an imperial princess from another world who uses black magic. Sousuke and Sara gradually begin living together, but in the blink of an eye, Sara becomes accustomed to modern-day Japan...

Girls Band Cry

Studio: Toei Animation (One Piece)

Summary: The main character drops out of high school in her second year, and aims at entering a university while working alone in Tokyo. A girl is betrayed by her friends and doesn't know what to do. Another girl is abandoned by her parents, and tries to survive in the city by doing part-time jobs. This world lets us down all the time. Nothing goes as planned. But we want something that we can continue to like. We believe there's a place where we belong. That's why we sing.

Unnamed Memory

Studio: ENGI

Summary: Witches—the centuries-old mages that command power immense enough to bring catastrophe. Oscar, the crown prince of the powerful kingdom of Farsas, was cursed as a young boy to never sire an heir. Hoping to break the magic, he seeks out Tinasha, the strongest witch on the continent. To meet her, he climbs her tower, as she is said to grant the wish of any who successfully do so. Yet, when he arrives at the top…he requests that Tinasha become his bride!

Viral Hit

Studio: Okuruto Noboru (Tomodachi Game)

Summary: Scrawny high school student Hobin Yoo is probably the last guy you’d expect to star in a NewTube channel that revolves around fighting. But after following some advice from a mysterious NewTube channel, Hobin is soon knocking out guys stronger than him and raking in more money than he could have ever dreamed of. Can Hobin keep this up, or will he eventually meet his match?

Mission: Yozakura Family

Studio: SILVER LINK. (Non Non Biyori)

Summary: Taiyo Asano is a super shy high school student and the only person he can talk to is his childhood friend, Mutsumi Yozakura. It turns out that Mutsumi is the daughter of the ultimate spy family. Even worse, Mutsumi is being harassed by her overprotective, nightmare of a brother, Kyoichiro. Taiyo will have to take drastic steps to save Mutsumi.

Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night

Studio: Doga Kobo (Oshi no Ko)

Summary: The young artist Yoru Kurage has been on hiatus ever since a certain incident. In reality, her name is Mahiru Kōzuki. She became traumatized by the pressure of being "special" and instead decided to live a normal, standard high school life. However, things change when she meets former idol Kano Yamanōchi.

A Crow Doesn't Choose Its Master (Karasu wa Aruji o Erabanai)

Studio: Pierrot (Bleach)

Summary: Yukiya is the lackluster second son of a regional boss in the North House territory. His younger brother has overtaken him in academics. He is no good at sword battle, either. Not that this ever bothers him. So it comes as a shock when this boy, who claims to have no ambition whatsoever, is the one chosen to attend the Imperial Prince in Court--. What awaits Yukiya and his new master is intrigue, murder, a mysterious drug, and invasion from an unexpected enemy. Can they save the world of Yatagarasu (three-legged crows of Japanese myth)?

Mysteries, Maidens, And Mysterious Disappearances

Studio: Zero-G (Grand Blue)

Summary: A mysterious incident that occurs in a row in a city. The challenge to this monster is... With a writer's aspiration, Sumireko, who is a plain girl and has a lot of sexual appeal and body. Although it looks like a boy, it is a bookstore clerk from Adashino who is full of mystery.

[bleeding-star-heart]

Sebastian in Faerun, pt 3

Inspired by @bluerose5 's little series of posts- I take zero credit for the crossover.

Part 1 Part 2

After collecting Shadowheart, the gang set up camp for the night. Gale: So, I'm curious, Sebastian. Are you learned in magic at all? Sebastian: *jaw drops in horror* What?!!! Maker, no! Gale: *frowns deep in scholarly thought* Ah, yes, I figured as much. In our fight with the goblins you didn't seem to have much control over your magic; you seemed to cast spells by accident. Sebastian: *panics in knowledge of Circle mages and templars* I'm not an apostate, I swear by Andraste I'm not an apostate! Lae'zel, Shadowheart, and Astarion turn to stare at Sebastian, utterly baffled by this turn of events. Lae'zel: *confused in Githyanki* Who is...An-dra-stay? Astarion: *scowls* Ignore him; nothing he says makes sense. He's obviously not from around here. Shadowheart: *with a smug grin on her face* Just like you, Lae'zel! Although not really; Sebastian has manners. Gale: *wincing as he extends a hand towards Sebastian* Easy. It's all right. There's...no shame in being a sorcerer- Sebastian: *grimacing as he curls into a fetal position* I'm not a sorcerer, I'm not a mage, I'm not an apostate! I am a good and loyal brother of the Chantry. I have never had any magic whatsoever, and neither has anyone in my family's long and storied history. Lae'zel: *rolls her eyes* Ch'k. Enough with this whining. We all saw- Sebastian: *hyperventilating* What you saw was a mistake, a fluke. It must have been someone else casting spells- Astarion: *checking his fingernails* No, I'm pretty sure it was you. Sebastian: *leaps to his feet, hands held up defensively* Alright, yes. You may have seen me do magic, somehow. I...I don't know how, but the important thing is, I am not a maleficar. I've never done any magic before today, and I promise, I will never do any again. There is no need to call the Templars- The looming specter of Anders appears in Sebastian's mind, taunting him. Everyone stares at Sebastian, dumbfounded. Sebastian: *babbling maniacally* And besides, how would you even call them in this wilderness? We're miles away from any civilization-well, there is Zevlor! I suppose he could lock me up in a cell somewhere-not that you need to! Again, I am not a maleficar! Shadowheart: *tilts her head sideways* I think he's worried we're going to imprison him for something. Astarion: Please, if anyone was going to imprison him, it would have been those druids. Sebastian: *lets out a laugh of disbelief* Are you for-? Do you not realize- *gestures dramatically at Gale* Unlike Gale, I am not part of the Circle of Magi! *unanimous, visible confusion* Gale: *voice flat* What? Sebastian: *indignant* That's right! I have never, not once, been a part of any Circle of Magi in my entire life. That wasn't a problem before, but it is now that I have magic. And if that gets out, I will be arrested on the spot! *frowns* Probably the only reason I haven't been is because Zevlor has enough trouble with those apostates in the grove. Doesn't want to upset them more than they already are. Gale: *sputtering in horror* You think Zevlor would imprison you just for having magic?

Sebastian: *eyes wide with horror and confusion* You think he wouldn't?

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Slug, have you had a chance to listen to the new rhyme anima+ album yet? I’m interested to hear your thoughts on it, even though a fair amount of people think it’s not as good as the first season songs. Personally, I can forgive any and all sacrifices in quality just because the dotsuhon/mtc song might be the single greatest song ever created (and no, I’m not just saying that because they sing the line “Go shawty! Go shawty!”. Although I’m not, not saying that…). As always, dotsuhon never misses.

I finally finished watching it with a friend a couple weeks ago, and I liked most of the songs. Let me do a quick relisten and run down the list...

Also, the "Go shawty! Go shawty!" got to me too haha. Literally dropped everything I was doing to Google "shawty 意味 [definition]" in the hopes of getting some clarity on what they meant. (I was not successful. Presumably, this is another "wow, cool English word!" moment.)

Rise From Dead feels very anime-ish to me, so it's not something I would listen to on its own. But idk, it's fun and bouncy.

Bring it on is fine. BBs continue to be solid rappers. Doesn't do a ton for me in audio only.

Shinogi (Pay Respect) is a fun blend of genres that I normally like, but it's slower than I would like. Feels like the whole is worth less than its parts.

SANITY's instrumentals slap. Solid rhythm. Feels like it'd be good for a workout playlist but probably not something I'd listen to on its own.

New World's instrumentals are where it's at. I would listen to this one on its own. Dancing at my desk as I type this.

Dive in's rapping and instrumentals seem oddly disjointed with one another. (<- knows jack shit about music) Not sure if I'm a fan of this one.

An Idol has a really fun rhythm, and I like the singing. I feel like this will grow on me easily.

We go with the flow is bopping. Ichirou and Kuukou's VAs kill it as always. This would make very good workout music. Dancing at the desk again.

PUMP IT UP bring more of the dance music. And the infamous "Go, shawty! Go, shawty!" ??? out of 10. I think I could enjoy it if I pretend I don't speak English. There's a song I'm enjoying atm where the rapper keeps dropping the word "pussy" in places "pussy" should not be, and I can vibe w/ it so long as I assume I am a newborn babe and all language is indecipherable to me. Same deal here, I feel.

FIGHTER'S ROAD... Oh, this episode was an art form. I like Horsefumi's and Gentarou's sections. Without the absolutely batshit visuals, though, I don't think this is something I would voluntarily seek out.

BATTLE ANIMA+ 01 is blatantly a battle song, and I don't usually listen to them on their own. That being said, I like the rhythm and most of the rapping. The autotuned sections are cool.

BATTLE ANIMA+ 02 falls into the same camp as the previous one. A bit slower, so less up my alley, but I still like the rhythm and autotuned bits.

BATTLE ANIMA +03 sounds like RPG music. I can vibe with it. Would be good for workout playlists.

RELIEVE is...it sure is a song. That sounds like a bad thing, but it's just... I have no opinion about this whatsoever. This is music that exists. Zero idea if I like it or not.

Next Stage is FUN! It's long enough and repetitive enough that I wouldn't listen to it on its own, but it would be a much-loved addition to a workout playlist. I really, really like this one.

Yeah, I can see why some fans might be disappointed. Most of them don't strike me as stellar without their visuals, but it also takes me a while to warm up to (get Stockholm Syndromed into, maybe?) Hypmic songs in general. I'll probably be a big fan once I hear more of them.