Hi,not Sure If I Ever Mentioned This But...not A Fan How Monoma Acts Towards A1. Why? Bc I Don't Get

Black ace culture is liking dances that have been made by us but are deemed as sexual (twerking, swiggling, body rolling, whining) but you are really just doing it for fun. ♠️

Exactly! We shouldn't be put off from taking part in our own cultures just because of the stereotypes that get placed on us (obviously if you're not comfortable to do these dances that's fine too). Our bodies will always be ours to do, move, travel and shake as we please 💜

↳ Nanami x Tiana

↳ After Nanami's return to jujutsu society, he is tasked with an overseas mission, one smack dab in the center of New Orleans, a place with magic, curses, culture...And a woman who mirrors him far too closely, but with enough spitfire to challenge him and a smile sweeter than the beignets she makes. With an eleven day countdown and the safety of New Orleans on the brink, can Nanami differentiate between magic and voodoo, curse and love?

↳ Genre: Romance, Slight pining, Modern AU

↳ Warnings: None ↳ Word count: 4K

↳ Notes: Tiana's story occurs in the 1920's, but I took the liberty of bringing the timeline to the present, aka the 2010's. This also means that Nanami is in his early twenties, when he just quit being a salaryman and went back to jujutsu society.

| Series masterpost | Next chapter. . . |

This place reminded Nanami of Tokyo a lot. Loud, crowded, hot and humid. Human.

The air was more muggy here than in Tokyo actually. It was more dense, hanging in the air and weighing down the suit that now seemed too unnecessary and cumbersome.

‘No’ , he adjusted his tie, and weaved his way through the outskirts of the crowd. He was a sorcerer, and wherever he went he had an image to maintain.

A sorcerer. It felt strange to call himself that again, after four years as a salary-man. Strange but right. It was the only path that seemed right to him, the only one where he felt he could make the smallest differences. It was the only reason he came back.

It was the only reason he was here, six thousand nine hundred and five miles away from Tokyo, in the heart of New Orleans, creeping up on mardi gras season. Music blared from the balconies and in the streets, and Nanami sighed, sticking to the edge of the crowd, as best as he could.

He wouldn't be here exactly if he wanted to. But he hated owing debts, to anyone, much less the insufferable Gojo Satoru.

_ _ _ _ _

“It's a yearly mission for grade 1 and above sorcerers,” Gojo Satoru laid on the couch, his too long legs dangling off the edge. “There aren't many sorcerers in America, but there are plenty of curse users.”

“Then why aren’t we sent to get rid of the curse users and then the curses? It seems like we’re attacking a symptom rather than the root cause.”

“Ah, my dear junior, see? This is where you need my expert knowledge and guidance,” He shot up like a cartoon character, lanky and exuberant.

“Curse users are identified as anyone who uses cursed energy against civilians, with the intent to cause harm. Or, are able to use cursed energy but are not labeled as sorcerers by jujutsu society. But, in the port city of New Orleans there's a special phenomenon. Almost the entire populace are labeled as curse users.”

Nanami's eyes widened behind his glasses. “How does that make any sense? People who are able to use cursed energy are already rare as it is, but an entire populace ?”

“Crazy, right? Even ordinary folks who stay there for an extended period of time are able to see cursed spirits, a general skill that's been lost to most people since the time of the Heian era,” Gojo supplied.

“Maybe it's due to the rich history of the land and the people that came before it. Maybe it's their longstanding voodoo and spiritual practice; though to call voodoo cursed energy is not really accurate, and kinda racist, you know? Anyways, your job is to take care of all the cursed spirits that arrive during the mardi gras season.”

“...And that's all?”

“Now don't think this will be easy kohai!” The idiot grins.

“Due to the highly superstitious and spiritual beliefs of the people, the curses grow strong and unnatural. Due to varying cultures and influences we don't know what kind of curse it'll be, just that it’ll be strong.” He points to Nanami.

“You will take care of all the curses, and the semi special grade that will appear sometime during the end of the season.”

“...This is going to be a very long term mission, isn't it?”

“Oh, don't be like that, Nanamin!” in a blink Gojo is draped over his shoulders like an annoying shawl.

“You just came back to us after four years of no contact, you have to prove yourself! And anyways, it's a very famous tourist attraction so you’ll have lots of fun there, a full week and a half of leisure, pretty much!” he sighs, frowning under that blindfold.

“Honestly, besides the curses it's a very fun, relaxing trip, you should be grateful I'm handing it off to you. Anyways, who else besides you can speak English so well? We need you Nanamin!”

That at least had some weight, a long term mission in America would need a sorcerer who had at least an intermediate level in english. He’d take the job, it seemed simple enough.

_ _ _ _ _

He understood exactly what Gojo meant when he entered the city, a peculiar wave of cursed energy flowing over his senses. It shocked him, how potent it was- the only times he felt energy this vivid and strong was when he was surrounded by other sorcerers, particularly in battle with other cursed users, both spilling cursed energy like blood, giving it their all.

But this was not a place of gloom–it was bright and cheerful and loud and colorful, there was the scent of something delicious in the air, and the people all around him looked self assured and content. The problem lay deeper into the city, and would show itself soon enough.

For now, he needs to find the place he's going to stay. Lodgings had been provided for him at a decent hotel, and after a long plane ride and bus, a full twenty hours of traveling, he was tired and irritated.

The crowd jostled along as he tried making his way, so that he could get to the hotel and rest already. He thought to ask for directions, but the was still getting used to the sounds here.

The language was thicker, richer; the accents ranged vibrantly and almost seemed like its own separate lingo, which he supposes it could be. He could make it out if he focused, so this was good practice for him.

His maternal grandfather had been Dutch, and insisted Nanami learn to speak it, as well as English, as he had with his mother. And just like the heritage he passed down, so too did he pass down the cursed energy; a carrier like his mother, curling softly in their core like the blonde shade of their hair until it at once bloomed in him. He was the only sorcerer in the entire family. They still think that he's a salary man.

There was a loud commotion further down the street, a large crowd of people moving his way, and he sighed hard, moving off the curb so he could let the crowd pass.

A lady suddenly fell not too far from him, landing right on the edge of the curb. And while people stopped to help her up, it was much too crowded, and they kept being accosted and jostled.

Nanami moved, forming a barrier between himself and the crowd so the lady could be helped. She was an older woman, and fixed her skewed hat as she was helped to her feet and the crowd started to thin.

“Oh goodness, If only I was young again to go charging through a crowd and carry on my way, yeah?” He held out his arm so she could straighten herself. She was tiny, brown eyes and a wide mouth, set in a warm smile. Her skin was dark and weathered; she looked kind, but also tired.

“Are you a tourist? Here to enjoy the last of the mardi gras season are you?”

“Something of the sort.” The words felt clunky on his tongue, but manageable. She patted his arm and smiled wider.

“You're not from around here are you? You must have come a long way.”

“From Tokyo ma’am. Are you alright? Are you heading somewhere?”

“Oh my lord, that's a long ways away. Are you-oh!” she took a step and stumbled, wincing as she leaned on his arm.

“Goodness, must of hurt my ankle in the scuffle.”

“Are you going anywhere? Let me escort you.” He couldn't leave this lady injured in the midst of this crowd. He could get her to sit somewhere, and phone someone to come to her aid.

“I’m heading over to that restaurant a couple streets down, my daughter works there and imma pay her a visit. She is always so busy, and never has any time to visit her poor ma.” He helped the lady, letting her lean onto his side he went down the street she gestured towards.

“So what brought you all the way here from your Tokyo young man?”

“I’m taking a vacation from work; I decided to go somewhere far away.”

“Well you certainly got the far part down. Did you just arrive? Forgive an old woman but you look a fright.” He's sure he does. After quitting his job he was finally able to get some decent sleep, before his missions started up again in earnest. He hasn't felt this tired in weeks.

“I’ll be going to my hotel after I drop you off ma’am.” She chuckled, and Nanami could smell her perfume, floral and powdery fresh.

“Well, thank you for helping out a frail lady. My name is Eudora. Eudora Breaux, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Nanami Kento. Likewise ma'am.”

She led him to the street and pointed him inside a bustling restaurant; despite the amount of people inside the servers and waitresses shouted out greetings to the lady as they stepped in, obviously familiar. Immediately a waiter ushered them to a table, where a large robust man sat with a pink clad lady, both the same shade of blonde.

They all greeted each other warmly, and Nanami was ready to leave, until they managed to drag a seat and pull him down, setting a plate of powdered beignets in front of him.

“Another tourist for the mardi gras season, huh? Welcome to New orleans! I'm the mayor of this town, you can call me Big Daddy La Bouff.” He wasn't going to call him that, ever. Mayor La Bouff hooked the lady next to him under his arm, near suffocating her in his affection.

“And this princess right here is my daughter, Charlotte La Bouff.” She was an elegant woman with bright eyes and a cheeky smile, as she introduced herself and held out a hand for him to shake. Her grip was surprisingly strong, for those dainty hands.

“Nice to meet you Sir, how's your stay been so far?”

“I just got off the bus, so I couldn't tell you, miss.”

“Oh!” She covered her mouth, her hands covered in delicate lace.

“You just got here? Goodness, do you have a place to stay?”

“This young man was on his way to his hotel when he stopped to help me, after I hurt my ankle,” Breaux cut in, wiping the powdered sugar from her lips.

“And what hotel are you staying at son?”

“The Peter and Paul hotel. If you could give me directions I could be on my way.”

“Nonsense!” La Bouff waved his hand.

“Guess what, I own that hotel! Its near booked with tourists now, so I'm not sure if you’d be able to get a room any time soon, son.”

“A colleague of mine booked me a room there, so I should be fine.”

“Well that's well and dandy then. And, you already met the owner,’ Miss La Bouff said conspiratorially, with a sneaky grin, “So if you have any problems or want a better room just speak up, ‘kay? I'm sure we can hook ya right up.”

“Charlotte! Just what are you saying? Is this how I taught you to do business?”

“'Buy cheap sell high', I know Daddy! But look at him, he seems like an honest, hardworking gentleman; I only want him to enjoy the last few days of Mardi gras in comfort! As a thank you for helping Mrs. Breaux, of course.”

He’d be comfortable if he could leave and get some rest before working tonight, but it would be rude if he just got up and left. He would have done it to anyone else, said his polite farewells and left, but he was in the presence of the mayor and his daughter, so it was best not to.

He reached out and took up one of the beignets in a napkin, biting into it. Immediately, the texture of the treat stunned him, and he swallowed. It was good. The slight crisp on the outside, the soft buttery layers of the inside, the sweetness of the powdered sugar. Like, really good.

“Are these the best darn Beignets you've ever had or what?” Mrs. Breaux rested her chin on her hand. “They’re made fresh here everyday and sell out fast, so lucky we came in to a fresh batch.”

He had to admit, these were incredibly good. Almost like they came from an actual bakery, and not a dime a dozen restaurant in this port city. And he’s traveled a bit and gone to some truly extraordinary bakeries. These were on par.

Memories of a brunnette baker flooded his mind, a heartfelt thank you, but he let it slip away to the back of his mind.

“Who made these? They’re delicious.”

“My baby girl, Tiana! I tell you, she's the best cook in this whole spot, and when she gets her own restaurant, people are gonna come here from everywhere .” It was easy to see how proud she was of her daughter, pride and love gleaming in her eyes.

“Ever since her daddy handed her a cooking spoon when she was five, she's been in love ever since.”

Hm, perhaps then…Maybe it’ll be alright to stay for a meal, if the beignets were this good.

“Then I’ll have to give my compliments to the chef.”

“That you will, and I’d like to see you fed before you go off your way. Look at how sharp and gaunt your cheekbones are!” His face was not gaunt, he just had a shaped face. Nevertheless, Mayor La Bouff chuckled jauntily.

“Those eastern types don't put on weight that easily miss Breaux. Strong and lean types I tell you. But I agree, let's get some food in this man's belly! Where is your daughter Breaux?”

“Right here folks, can I take your order?” Nanami turned and a young woman stood behind him. Her skin was dark, covered in a layer of sweat from all the humidity, a dark curl of hair escaping from her hair net. Nanami could recognize her, she had the same face as the woman he brought in here.

“Tiana!!” Miss la Bouffe shot up from her seat, rushing around the table to throw her arms around her friend. She quickly let go after noticing the sweat sheening her skin. She smiled bright at the lady, before taking stock of her mother, the way she kept her injured ankle raised.

"Oh, ma! Are you alright?!” She set down her notepad and came around to her mother, who raised her hands to wave her away.

“I’m fine, I'm fine girl. I fell and hurt my ankle a little but this man right here helped me.” She turned to him, and Nanami met her gaze.

His eyes were still covered by his glasses, but it seemed that didn't matter because her eyes immediately knew where to look. Her gaze was direct and scrutinizing, and he felt himself being evaluated. For a moment, he felt a fluctation of cursed energy, a slight waning, like opening a window to let in a breeze; But before he could really remark on that it slipped from his grasp. It was for no more than a second or two, and La Bouffe spoke up.

“We wanna get him a nice meal before we send him on his way, so give us the best you have to offer. Can you do that for us, Tiana?”

“Who do you think you're talking to?” She hadn't drawn her gaze away from his face as she took back her notepad. but she smiled at Nanami, analyzing him for a moment more and nodding.

“It can be a little hard to know what you want, but I got just the thing for you, A perfect taste of New Orleans. Don’t worry, you helped my mama so it's on the house.”

“I couldn’t possibly accept. I’m fine with paying.” Despite the trouble with changing currencies and how expensive things were in America. Damn their economy. But she shook her head, scribbling in her notepad.

“It’s fine, I insist. And I already know what you folks would like. I'll be out in just a minute.” She turned and left, disappearing past a door leading to the kitchens.

“Your daughter works as a waitress here as well?”

“Waitress and cook, when they’re short staffed like this, honestly she does it all,” Miss La Bouff sighed, fond and tired.

“She's trying to save up for her dream, owning her own restaurant. That girl’s a heck of a cook, and she's got a great head on her shoulders.”

“Which she all gets from her mama.” Mrs. Breaux flushed a little, bashful.

“It’s been hard on that girl. The towns never fully recovered from Hurricane Katrina, so there's been less jobs and less money to make. Still, she doesnt stop.” Mrs. Breuax sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Seriously, even if she's got free time she's either budgeting or meeting with realtors or cooking up new recipes; Charlotte girl, why don't you take her dancing or something?”

“I’ve tried Mrs. Breaux! We all have! She never wants to go!” The table burst into loud, playful conversation that only those close could, and Nanami zoned out.

He’ll go to his hotel and rest for a few hours, before he heads back out again to go curse hunting. There was another foreign sorcerer that he could meet up with, in case anything went wrong. They were ranked as a special grade, and according to the report, kept to themselves in the swamp, only leaving to help if the situation was dire. Introverted, but not unfriendly.

But he could deal with things for now, the way they were. In the meantime, he’ll dig for intel on this town, to help him parse out what kinds of curses he’ll be dealing with. It’ll take a few days to get an idea of what this semi special grade will be, since he doesn't know what kind of cursed energy surrounds this place.

Even now, he can feel it like a second skin, a film that won't dissolve on his tongue. There was something strange about this town, and it wasn't the strange amount of cursed energy either. Despite being in such a large crowd of people, he hasn't seen a single curse. Not even a single third grade, or flyhead or anything.

It was suspicious.

Miss Charlotte tapped on the table to get his attention, and he slipped out of his thoughts.

“Yes?”

“Oh, you looked like you were lost in thought. I was asking what it's like up there in Tokyo? How different is it compared to here?

“...Not much, it's just as crowded, though not nearly this loud. And it's only ever this hot in the summers, which unfortunately is when I'm at my busiest.” Summers were notorious in jujustu society, people were hot and agitated, and it was an apt time for those with seasonal depression to have those feelings flare up, birthing more curses.

Miss Charlotte tilted her head. “Huh. What kind of salaryman is busy in the summer?”

“The kind that are in tokyo.”

“Hm, you dont look like a typical salaryman. I tell you though, that white suit is snazzy! Though you could have chosen a different tie. Was that one a gift maybe?” His tie was custom made, so it could match the wrapping around his blunt sword. It was perfectly fine.

He opened his mouth to maybe tell her that, but in a rush the young miss Breaux came bearing a platter of dishes, setting them around the table to their respective peoples.

“And for the mister, a plate of creole gumbo, it doesn't get more authentic than that,” She grinned at him, the same warm smile as her mother.

"I hope you enjoy.”

“It's your cooking Tiana, who wouldn't like it?” Charlotte rolled her eyes, already starting to dig in.

“If anything, you're gonna ruin him for any restaurant in this city!“

“Don’t be silly Charlotte.” She shook her head. “I’m pretty sure there are other restaurants he will want to try. It’s Mardi Gras season, everyone is creating new specials for the people to try out.” As they were talking he spooned some of the gumbo and rice, with an Itadakimasu, tasting it for himself.

Onion, bell pepper and okra simmered in a light roux, with spiced ham and shrimp mixed in, and served over white rice.

It was amazing.

“It's amazing. It tastes delicious.” The best thing he’s had since the airplane food, and the rushed onigiri he had on his way to the terminal. And honestly, it was the perfect first meal in this city. Maybe he didn't really need to visit another restaurant if this one here already seemed like the best one. The flavors weren't too heavy and everything was balanced--fresh and savory and a hint of spice.

‘Oh, I'm so glad you like it, Mister! Remember, it's on the house so no worries.”

“I’m going to pay for my food, it’d be rude otherwise.” He took a spoon and spoke again when he swallowed.

“This reminds me of a home dish, Hayashi rice. It's more of a beef stew though, served beside short grain rice.”

“There's no better compliment to a chef than when their food reminds someone of home. A beef stew, hm? What kind of beef? Could you make that with Wagyu beef, maybe?”

“If you’re feeling especially decadent, yes. Though it's more of a home meal.” He fed himself another spoon of the gumbo, the flavors delightfully balanced and rich. He had heard the food was good here, but this exceeded his expectations.

“Sir, might I ask where you'll be staying? I had heard that you might need directions.”

“He’s staying at one of Daddy’s hotels–The Paul and Peter Hotel specifically.”

“Oh, that's just northeast of the french quarter right? Well sir if you’d just head…” The directions were actually simple enough, and the food was also gone quickly. He wiped his mouth with a napkin , and as Mrs. Breaux gathered his plate, he stood and slipped a few bills into the side pocket of her apron.

“Hey, sir?! I told you said–”

“And I appreciate the sentiment, but there's no need. You're working hard and I simply want to pay my fair share. I left you a tip as well.” He set his napkin down, and before he remembered his manners he bowed his head towards the people at the table. Oh well, a mishap.

They didn’t seem too perturbed though, having charmed smiles on his face when he rose.

Miss Breaux had too many platters to hand the money back to him, so she just sighed and shook her head.

“I can see you’re a man of principle. Oh well, I’ll just have to owe you a meal then.’

“And you’re a rather stubborn woman. I assure you, there is no need.”

“Well, I said I'd like to repay you for helping my mama; foreign stranger from a strange land. I’ll pay you back before you leave this town, I promise you.” A playful challenge lit up her eyes, and he shrugged.

“You can certainly try. Anyways, the directions seem easy enough to follow, so thank you for your meal and time.”

“Come back again sometime, before you leave! We’d be glad to see you.” Miss La Bouffe waved enthusiastically, nearly tipping her father’s glass over. Mrs.Breaux set it right before it could fall.

“Preferably when it's less crowded. Early mornings are best, when the coffee and the bread is freshest. Have a good day young sir.” They waved him off, and he left the restaurant. It was hot outside, but compared to the restaurant it was just the slightest bit cooler.

He wasted a lot of time, but he didn’t feel it was a complete waste. Knowing the mayor and being on cordial terms with him could prove useful; He didn't forget the importance of building connections from his old job. It was an important thing not just for work but for life as well.

And the food was actually really good. He heard food was one of the many reasons people traveled so far to get here, and honestly, his hopes were lifted a little. It would at least get rid of some irritation over taking on this mission.

The restaurant was loud, crowded and hot, but quaint. And if Miss Breaux was a frequent cook there, it would be worth it to make another visit sometime soon. As long as she didn’t insist on giving him a free meal again.

Now if he could find a decent bar somewhere in his time here this mission might just become bearable.

Might try this!

Kokushibo holding up Muichiro: this is my descendant!

Muzan: This is an uppermoon meeting, not bring your great grandson to work day

The Rengoku siblings~~

but what if i. rex was claire’s baby WHAT IF

bnha/mha, my criticisms.

the order in which i put them does not imply I think some of these issues are worse or not as bad as others, it's just the order I think of them in.

1- bakugou katsuki. a bully who doesn't change, but gets worse. from suicide baiting, to attempted murder, and is consistently forgiven and encouraged by every character in the entire story and the fandom.

2- the sexism in the story and fandom. (I went on a whole rant about this but I don't want to write too much about it because it enrages me)

3- fanservice. and the fact that when a male character is used for fanservice it empowers them (male characters uniforms being broken, exposing muscular chests, while female character's exposure does not flaunt their strength, just beauty and sex appeal, even teenagers.)

4- THE FACT THAT THE ONLY TRANS CHARACTERS ARE EITHER A VILLAIN WHO DIED OR A SIDE CHARACTER.

5- character annihilation for the sake of the plot. fuck the plot. characters matter more.

6- eraserhead's shitty teaching and how the fandom sees him as a good teacher or even a father figure.

7- quirkless discrimination and how unadressed it was and how izuku just got over it after a bit in high school even with his lifelong abuser there.

8- 1-A abandonning izuku and before that forcing him to come with them to UA, endangering those sheltering there.

9- Eri being rescued from those who used her only to be used in a different way but it's fine because using a child for her quirk is moral if the heroes do it. 10- bad representation of teenagers and children.

11- HORRIBLE representation of people of colour. mirko is an angry and violent character who is blunt in her words. Rock Lock is also an angry character, and any very reasonable suggestions and remarks he has are ignored. it is a very common trope to have black characters always be angry, and while yes they can be, it speaks a lot about the writer that your only black characters fit the stereotype.

11- idolisation of america.

12- endeavours "redemption"

13- lack of quirkless characters (what happened to 20% of the population?)

14- mineta's entire existence

15- shit pacing

16- shit plot

17- shit characters

✴Muichiro and Yuichiro are traitors....✴

☾I finally began the multi-chaptered fanfic based off of my AU here.☀

Summary:

Kokushibo stumbles upon Muichiro and Yuichiro in the midst of a desperate struggle-one battling a demon with little but his bare hands, and the other on the brink of death. Kokushibo impressed by Muichiro's skills, and recognizing them as his descendants, saves them, and they perceive him as their saviour. Initially contemplating turning them into demons, Kokushibo convinces them that embracing demonic nature is superior to remaining human. Yuichiro, enticed by the idea of becoming powerful enough to protect his brother, readily falls for the deception. However, Muzan seizes an opportunity. He will only allow Kokushibo to turn them into demons unless they infiltrate the Demon Slayer Corps and reveal there secrets and where the Ubuyashiki family is hiding. As they infiltrate the corps and become the newest Hashiras, Muichiro excelling in ‘Moon Breathing’ and Yuichiro adapting with his own breathing style “Eclipse Breathing” and sabotage missions. Muichiro begins to feel torn between loyalty to Kokushibo and newfound friendships with the other slayers, and grapples with a moral dilemma as he uncovers the truth that had been hidden from him, all the while the threat of being revealed as traitors looms closer.

First chapter is out on ao3 so check it out here! Leave a kudo or even a comment (That would make me smile so much) if you enjoy!

If your looking be a beta reader for future chapters and projects message me on tumblr or in my ask box.

Throughtout the time Reigen knew Mob, he bought books so he could better understand him and be prepared to answer his questions/help him out(While maintaining the façade that he is the master in that field).

But it wasn’t only though books...

Reigen also trained his body so he could better understand/help Mob who was doing the same with the Body Improvment Club. Reigen maybe a con artist, but at the end of the day, he never wanted to be unable to answer one of Mob’s questions or be unable to offer him help because he knew Mob needed him and also that he thought the world of him. So much so in fact...

While it’s not exactly stated, but rather shown, Reigen is a smoker, something that he does his best to hide from Mob because he doesn’t want to instill such a habit to him. But despite the con man he is, and all of what I just mentioned

Reigen still wants Mob to be all he can be, his own man, away from Reigen.

Everyone has their demons…

(and Kyojuro’s is very persistent)

I did not come up with this joke - I could not for the life of me find the post that inspired this (even though I swore I saved it because it had me cackling).

First one to find it for me so I can credit them wins!