#ignition

"Be careful of that girl. There's a fire burning behind her eyes. She can make kingdoms fall, and monsters wish they were never born. She's not just a warrior, she is a dragon and she is not afraid to burn your heaven to the ground." -Artist Unknown

Photos from my first fire performance of the year have dropped!

Sharing one of my favorites now while I sort through the rest. :)

A huge thank you to EspressoBuzz Photography for capturing the moment.

I'm so excited for this years shenanigans and grand adventures. ^^

God. You fucking hate Gojo Satoru.

You hate him.

You hate him.

You do hate him. Right?

Whoa-whoa-whoa, rewind, you hate Gojo, period.

That's what the fiery tingle left in your ribs is every time you see his stupid smug face. His stupidly blue eyes crinkled behind stupid nerdy glasses while he smiles and laughs all… stupidly.

Why are you even thinking about him? You hate him and his stupid face and that's that. 

That's. That.

Maybe you’re stupid too because despite not having said a fucking word to each other in nearly a month, your stupid mind wanders to Gojo and his stupid face.

His stupid pretty eyes and his stupid soft hair. His stupid nerdy glasses that frame those stupid pretty eyes.

Ugh. Stupid.

It wasnt supposed to be like this. You were supposed to go back to school and resume annoyed indifference. 

Gojo wasn’t supposed to be on your mind any more than he already was, it was bad enough before with him dug into the recesses of your brain like the sniveling worm he is. 

Geez, maybe you’re the one with the parasite. 

But now he’s front and center. A tingle in not just your brain, but your body too. Nearly two months and you can still feel how he touched you. Grabbed you. Nearly put you through the wall twice and dragged his mouth over every inch of you. The very same one to grind you into second place and make sure you knew you belonged there every god damned day.

But now it does neither. 

“Party off campus on Friday, we’re going.” Nobara said firmly when you trudged through the door to your shared dorm and you didn’t object. 

You let her scrutinize your face with eyeliner in hand until a mandala wheel would be jealous of the symmetry on your face. Let her toss clothes at you and spun to show off miniskirts and tube tops and dresses that if you moved wrong would probably become shirts. 

Drank deep from cans of barely flavored vodka seltzers and giggled freely together when your head started to feel lighter.

When you walked into the house party arm in arm you felt bubbly and fun and ready to do one fucking thing no matter what. 

Forget.