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dev1lm4n · 9 months

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all glory

masterlist | kofi (support me here!)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel has been feeling insecure, finding it hard to come to terms that he's indeed aging. tommy suggests a clever solution: a post-apocalyptic glory hole

word count: 4.8k of pure filth

warnings: minors dni (18+), post-outbreak, joel is 56 here hehe hot old men, insecurities, glory hole, fingering, unsafe piv, slight breeding kink, no pregnancy stuff tho cuz im terrified of that, reader calls him sir, pet name (darling)

note: i decided to create a kofi bcs im a broke college student lol. anyways hope yall enjoy this, do COMMENT and REBLOG if you enjoyed this :)

Joel Miller had always been a man of confidence.

Being left as a single father for Sarah at an early age, he’s been through thick and thin, trying his best to make ends meet so that they wouldn’t have to end up in one of those run-down shelters. But never once did he question his ability to attract women.

He’s always had it in him. With a mere glance from his expressive eyes, he can ensnare hearts and leave an everlasting impression on anyone fortunate enough to encounter him. Rugged masculinity and striking refinement; a deathly mix that kept girls swarming after him like bees. After the world descended into chaos, he’s not much different either. Perhaps the bone-deep trauma had left him looking eternally exhausted with sunken eyebags, or that gray filaments started becoming a welcomed addition to his beard, but all in all he’s still charming.

He didn’t have to seek, because people seek for him. Joel had plenty of erotic rendezvous in times where society crumbled and the rule of law eroded, more so now that everyday could be his last and he didn’t have the privilege to take it slow like a true Southern gentleman. He’s done it everywhere. Inside a stuffy closet while hiding from a clicking monstrosity, behind a thin wall while her husband sat cluelessly on the other side, and even taking sexual compensation for his little business. Joel Miller wasn’t a saint. Neither he one for God and he’d like to make it obvious.

Nowadays though, within the tall foreboding walls of Jackson City, that type of attention has faded away. He’s no longer getting those longing stares from across the floor, no longer being begged to corrupt just for some extra wad of cards, no longer being flirted and fawned over like a goddamn stud. Joel didn’t have any problem with it at first. He’s growing old. Instead of those naughty strands of white peeking out of his head, he’s now a complete mix of salt and pepper. Instead of just having a fun smile line, forehead rolls and crows’ feet are now imprinted deep into every crevice. Joel wasn’t the man he used to be.

He’s weathered away, he thought, unsuited for fun and adventure.

Perhaps it had something to do with his daughter as well. Even when Ellie’s not from his actual blood, everyone in town viewed her that way. He’s her father. Thus, everyone seemed to perceive and treat him as merely a father and not as an actual person that has his own needs and wants. Joel loved his daughter. Terribly so in ways he couldn’t decipher. A part of him has made up his mind that this would be how he should spend the rest of his life: in celibacy. Though the retirement of his sexual and romantic life has slowly taken a toll towards his self-esteem. Tommy, who’s always known to be rather slow and imperceptive, was surprisingly the first one to take notice of his gradual change.

“Maria told me you might be here.”

Tommy’s gruff voice brought him out of his trance. Joel looked up, meeting the familiar figure crouch to get into his little workshop. It was his newfound hobby these days, becoming a hermit and isolating himself from the community. He’d craft a wooden figure or two each night while he relived each and every one of his memories. Good and bad. Of death and of birth. Then by the end of the night he’d feel mildly satisfied with a wooden sculpture shaped like memorabilia from the old world. Joel couldn’t admit it outloud, but insecurity had taken over him. It festered deep into his soul that he couldn’t even bear looking at himself in the mirror anymore or present himself to society.

“Yeah, just..” he paused to ponder on a better way to answer. “Just doin’ my own thing.”

“You skippin’ dinner again?” Tommy’s curiosity sounded oddly suspicious, enough that Joel already knew he’s about to say something obnoxious or entirely uncalled for. The older quirked his thick eyebrows in return.

“Made myself my own plate,” Joel cocked his head towards where a lone plate sat. Judging from the crimson stain smeared on top, it must’ve been one of those canned pastas that he picked out.

“Brother..” Tommy started out, visibly nervous of how his brother would take it. “Is there something wrong?”

“With me?”

“Yeah, with you.”

“No, not that I could think of,” Joel hummed. “I ain’t bitten or anythin’, why are ya asking such a dumb question anyway?”

“You’re just different these days,” Tommy reasoned with a small frown. “You barely come out of your house and if you do, you’re huddled up in this place, carving things for hours on end.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with wanting to be alone. Is there?” he challenged.

“No, but you’re.. different. Almost like your mind’s troubled for once.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong, Tommy,” he insisted.

Joel was actively avoiding the accusations. He stood up from where he’s been perched upon for hours on end, bringing his half-carved wooden slab with him to set it on one of the displays he had. He’s grown quite the collection. It’s been going on far longer than he’d expected, the crippling fear of being undesirable and hideous, and it brought up an immense feeling of embarrassment. He couldn’t possibly admit such things to Tommy, could he? Tommy was different from him. His first child was on its way to be birthed, but girls still chatter about his charming smile and strong figure. They’d still gossip and make dirty guesses about his size. How long he endured such activities, the position he enjoyed best, and how sweet he was to his partner.

Tommy couldn’t possibly understand his fear.

“You can’t help me even if I told ya,” he grumbled.

“Put some trust in me, will ya?” Tommy chuckled as he spun around his seat to follow Joel’s every move. “Tell me what’s troublin’ you, big brother.”

“They don’t look at me the same way.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“The ladies,” Joel muttered.

His words were barely above a whisper. It almost seemed as if he saw the phenomenon as something humiliating, up to the point where he couldn’t even look Tommy in the eye in fear of having him laugh. He’s never talked about this with anyone else. It didn’t help that he truly didn’t have anyone to talk to in general aside from the few acquaintances his brother introduced him to and well.. Ellie. But none of them seem to be the right person to talk to regarding this.

Regarding his failure in masculinity. His unspoken worries that he didn’t have any of the strong, chiseled jawline or any of the tightly packed abdomen with six separate squares to admire. He’s grown old and weak. Five years ago, he could’ve probably still sweet-talk his way into a woman's heart, but now he couldn’t even look one in the eye without the fear of being put to shame.

“They still do, Joel,” Tommy assured him. He’s telling the truth. Joel knew that Tommy didn’t have it in him to lie, he’d have sounded like a strangled bird or a squeaky dog’s toy if he did. But his mind couldn’t believe it one bit.

“I don’t know, Tommy..” he muttered. “They don’t look at me the same way. They don’t look at me at all even.. and I’m fine with that I 'spose. I ain’t a whorin’ bastard who couldn’t accept that he’s agin’..”

“But they do, Joel.”

“I’m old,” he sucked in the air. “Lately there are these moments where I.. where I’d look a girl in the eye and all I could feel was humiliation.”

“Humiliation?”

“Like they’re lookin’ at me as if I’m some.. some sort of repulsive creature,” he whispered. “I feel like I could hear ‘em gigglin’ with their girlfriends on how shameless I am.”

Tommy was deduced into silence. Time ticked by as he cranked up his brain to figure out the best way to aid his older brother out of his misery. It’s all in his head, Tommy knew that Joel knew that as well, but it’s easier patching up an oozing wound than a troubled mind. He brought his hand together on top of his jeans as he waited for the younger to make another comment, whether of comfort or of a harsh reality.

“I’ll offer you a solution,” Tommy spoke up. “But you gotta promise not to lose your head over it.”

“It ain’t drugs, is it?”

“No, no..” Tommy chuckled humorlessly.

“I’m open to anythin’” Joel dropped his arms to his side as he curiously eyed Tommy.

“Have you ever heard of a glory hole?”

Joel’s expression contorted in such a way that the younger Miller couldn’t possibly read what he’s thinking any longer.

“I ain’t goin’ outside those borders just to go to some sketchy brothel, Tommy. That’d be pathetic.”

“Well, the thing is this whole operation ain’t sketchy,” Tommy reasoned. “The girls were tested and approved by the local doctor before..”

“Local doctor? You tellin’ me this is happenin’ within Jackson?”

“I operate it, Joel,” he sighed, knowing he’s about to be bombarded with a handful of questions. “And before you ask, no this ain’t considered prostitution as there’s no material exchange.”

“You mean..”

“Yes. The girls do it for free. Volunteers. They do it for their own pleasure and I help make their dreams come true.”

Joel looked at his own brother as if he was a mad man. Who wouldn’t? When he’s just told him that they had an actual glory hole installed without most of the public knowing. Or perhaps they knew, they were just not talking about it in front of Joel.

“Ten to twelve. There’s a small house across the sheep field. One girl every Friday night.”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy. Maria knows about this?”

Tommy shifted uncomfortably on the stool.

“No, but it’s better off she doesn’t.”

Joel felt his morals set askew for a second. This sounded like a terrible idea, despite the fact that he’s confirmed it himself that it’d be the safest a glory hole could possibly be. He scratched his beard and took it into deep consideration.

In the quiet stillness of a winter’s night, the world was wrapped in a soft, white blanket of snow. The moon hung low in the dark sky - a beacon towards those who chose to travel in the deepest hours of nighttime. Joel blew puffs of warm air onto his gloved fingertips, hoping it’d satiate the coolness that made his joints ache and his skin itch. The air was crisp and biting, each breath producing a frosty cloud which quickly amalgamated into the air. He watched as gentle snowflakes, alike to elegant ballet dancers, fell from the heavens up above and twirled and swirled into an intricate pattern. He’s been waiting for way too long.

“So what are ya sayin’? Are you gonna let me take you tomorrow night?” Tommy broke the silence.

Tommy promised to meet him on the edge of the sheep field, where they’d herd livestocks all throughout the warmer times of the year, but he’s yet to see his tall nose and dark hair from any of the cardinal directions. He’s been waiting for too long to keep the same mindset Tommy’s trained him into, that this was simply a beneficial exchange for every party involved and that he shouldn’t feel shameful for something so instinctive. Waiting gave him time to weigh out the cons, how this was naturally an act of debauchery that wounded both his moral values and beliefs. He ain’t a God preacher, but he’s sure to keep some of those Southern manners.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

None of Tommy’s ideas are ever well thought out. Starting from his sudden gravitation towards the military, to his desires to hand over his entire life towards the Fireflies, and now this. He knew his younger brother wasn’t the brightest of men, but creating an entire glory hole to keep the town’s morale up might be the stupidest one he’s heard yet. Especially when Maria’s not aware of it. He feared for the day when the beans spilled out of its jar, but tonight wasn’t that day. During the time in which he contemplated his decisions, Joel didn’t notice the crunching of snow against thick boots. Tommy was here and he looked far too calm for a self-made procucer.

Tommy beckoned him to follow the path his boots had made. Joel sucked in some of that painfully cold air into his lungs, before he stuffed his hands in his pockets and started trailing along. There were a few street lamps across the field, a ruddy glow emanating from them as they were adorned with a light dusting of snow. He kept his guards up while he scanned through the whistling field of crop, that traumatized part of him always keeping in check of abrupt movements and unsettling sceneries. After a quiet walk for a good three minutes, they finally arrived. The house fronts looked dark enough, and the windows even darker, contrasting with the smooth white sheet of snow upon the roofs.

There was snow piling up outside as well, dirtier ones whose last deposit had been plowed up in deep furrows by the heavy wheels of carts and wagons. He scrutinized over the tracks, wondering if this was meant to be used as a makeshift grain tower. If it was, then Tommy must’ve been a great scheming asshole to turn such a place into his own little heaven. Not one soul was around, which confused Joel even more. Wasn’t this supposed to be a public glory hole? Weren’t it supposed to be disgustingly packed with sweating men, adorned with walls covered in left-over spurts of cum and other bodily fluids, and smelled like sex itself?

Joel continued to pursue Tommy even when he’s overly skeptical about this entirely new scene. His boots were scuffed as he was dragging his feet through the front door, a fight against his defense system that’s begging him to flee out the door at the unfamiliarity. The establishment consisted of a long narrow hallway that eventually led up to an imposing door. Wooden, large, and mysterious.

To his surprise, what was beyond that door wasn’t some tacky sex dungeon with rattling chains and leather whips, it was a modest looking box. Square, he’d assume one meter wide and half a meter tall. He took in the wood it was made from. His pointer finger slowly traced the circumference out of habit. Oak, he concluded, making it sturdy and cool even in the warmer weather. What he failed to notice from the get-go was a pair of legs that were stretched open, chained onto the wall from the considerably-sized gap. Joel’s heart dropped to his stomach, he forgot for an entire minute what he was planning to do, and he’s starting to get cold feet.

“Darlin’, I’ve got someone for you,” Tommy cooed.

“You do, Tommy?”

Normally, people acquire hobbies in order to soothe their brief but occasional boredom, though you have discovered a unique way to tackle long hours of the night. This brilliant discovery of yours was birthed from a fated moment. One where you accidentally stumble across the conversation Tommy had with one of his patrol friends. It began a fantasy in your head. One you didn’t believe could come true until you overheard a passionate storytelling session one of the barmaids gave their friend. Only then did you gather enough courage to talk to Tommy about it. Despite his initial disapproval, saying things like you look too good and gentle to be doing such things, you managed to convince him with a week's worth of nagging.

“Mhm, one of my good friends here,” he hummed. “You’ll let him use you like a good fucking girl, won’t you?”

Goosebumps trailed from your backbone down to where your legs spread wide. Your nervousness made you flinch, effectively causing your legs to rattle against the metal restraints.

“Yes, I will, Tommy.”

When did you get so.. obedient?

“Alright then. I’ll see you in um.. twenty?”

“Thirty,” the foreign voice spoke up, masculine with a twinge of accent.

“Thirty it is.”

The entire room went quiet for an entire minute, only then did you finally hear the door slammed back shut. You swallowed back the throbbing fear in your heart, pushing back those persistent thoughts constantly warning you of the dangers. Even if you trusted Tommy with all your life, you didn’t trust the random strangers Tommy’s picked out. How could you trust them when you didn’t know who they were for sure? They could’ve been someone you see on the daily. The friendly guards, the cafeteria guy who’d always beam a sweet smile your way and give out more bread than standard, or even.. Tommy’s hunk of a brother. The same one who wouldn’t even spare you a look when you’re obviously sending heart eyes his way.

“Darlin’ is your name, ain’t that right?”

There was something so.. alluring about his voice. The type that makes your knees buckle inevitably, despite your best efforts to push it apart.

“That’s right,” you squeaked out.

“Darlin’, it’s been a long long time since I’ve done this, so let me indulge in you alright?”

“Okay,” you breathed out unsurely.

Your eyes instinctively followed the direction of the hushed voice, but all you could see from the dim box was a piece of dark fabric that was hung from above the hole. It was to keep your identity a secret so that the patrons across from you could only see you from the belly button down. Though now you felt more inclined than ever to pull on the draping and meet this man’s eyes. Your thoughts soon diminished when you felt a large hand over your inner thighs. Nowhere dangerous, just resting below where your kneecaps sat. You closed your eyes to try and envision the kind of hands touching you.

Were they soft and unsullied like a baby’s bum? Or were they rough and ridged with years of work?

That large hand traveled down South, inching with an irritatingly slow pace down towards where you ached the most. He was a fair man. He treated both of your thighs in the same manner before the two gathered together in a v-shape over your cotton panties. You wondered if you should’ve worn something more enticing, something which suited a person like you - someone willing to spread their legs for a true stranger. But the man on the other side didn’t seem to have a problem. He didn’t seem like he was bothered by the simplicity of your presentation, instead he was keen on pressing his thumb down the center.

They were the latter.

His fingers were textured and it felt too good to be true. At the briefest touch, you followed after his movement, hips reaching further up to chase after his departing touch. You whined. Frustrated that he’s cruel enough to press your sensitive clit and leave you all hot and bothered. He let out a deep chuckle, one that came out from the depth of his stomach as he placed his thumb back where it belonged. Your hole clenched and unclenched at the stimulating sensation. Your cotton panties seemed to be a great aid for your needy clit. It felt similar to grinding over a pillow, just this time, it felt a lot more real and animated.

“How long have you been doin’ this, darlin’?”

“Doin’ what, sir?”

So polite. It’s laughable the fact that you’re so soft spoken. Your lips spilled out a gentle moan as his thumb dug deeper into that sensitive spot.

“Lettin’ strangers fuck you,” he was frank with his words that’s for sure.

“This is my first time.. in the box that is,” your voice cracked almost immediately under pressure. “Been thinking of this for a long long time though.”

The gruff man hummed noncommittally as he continued to please you with his thumb. You used to be shy when it comes to being reactive during intercourse, but with the box, it almost felt like you could finally be your true primal self with your utmost carnal desires. He slowly eased your stained panties to the side once he saw an increasingly growing wetness, knowing that it’s time to move on to his next way of torture. Your pussy was exposed to the cool air immediately, it felt like the air was nipping at the sensitive skin all around. He took his two fingers - his middle and pointer finger being his favorite choice despite the controversy - and slowly dragged it atop the slick canal.

“A pretty girl like you gettin’ all wet from a little touchin’,” he chided. “You haven’t been fucked well or somethin’?”

What a considerate man. He called you pretty when he could barely tell what you look like.

“No, maybe, I-” you were flustered. You’ve never had to exchange proper talk when someone’s touching your dirty, wet cunt. “None of Jackson’s men did good. That’s why I hoped..”

Your voice trailed off into a garble of nonsense when he teased at your entrance, trying to decide whether you’re soaked enough to push a finger in comfortably. You whined, louder this time, as your legs fought against the uncomfortable metal cuffs wrapped around your ankle. He decided to play nice for once and made your dreams come true by inserting that thick finger of his. Fingering has never felt good for you, it always felt like an intrusion rather than a welcomed feeling, but he’s making it feel like heaven on earth.

“Hoped a stranger would fuck me well enough,” you took awhile to finish that statement.

He let out one of those noises of disapproval, at your skewed moral direction perhaps or at the tone of desperation your voice must’ve let out. You could only suck in a shallow breath when he started making proper, continuous motions with his finger. He pushed upwards to poke the tip of his finger onto that squishy part, playing around to find out where exactly made you react the most. You loved how he’s patient. You’re half-expecting the men to just stuff their cocks in you like you’re some sex doll instead of taking their time, which you don’t mind either. Half the pleasure was from being treated like nothing.

“Dirty gal,” he degraded, which you found both surprising and exciting. “Just wanted her pussy stuffed with any cock she could have, hm?”

Your hips thrusted up at a larger interruption. This time, the man managed to insert two of his thick fingers inside your eased cunt. He twisted it one-hundred-eighty degrees to the left, then back to the right, before he curled it in a come-here motion. The motion had left you dumb. A combination of ah ah ah’s and unfinished pleads for him to keep still. The man never once fully removed his fingers out of you. He’d slowly pull back to only have a single knuckle stuck inside before pushing it all the way in once more. For once, someone didn’t finger you like you’re a pizza dough waiting to be pounded.

“A-ah, sir. I really.. mmh- I really like that,” you moaned out shamelessly. “Feels really good in my.. in my pussy.”

“You like what, darlin’?”

“Like your fingers.. fingers in my ah- ah pussy!” you whined when he deepened his reach by rotating his wrist upwards. “Something- fuck- something’s coming! Please.. Please don’t sto-”

You warned him like a goddamn virgin and there it was, you couldn’t see it, but you could hear the way your pussy squelched around his finger at the new wave of sticky fluids. The noises were filthy and lewd that you were embarrassed for the first time that night. It coated your throbbing cunt and slowly ebbed out of your hole, dribbling down onto the wooden floor boards under. Strings of almost translucent thickness proof of his success. It’s pretty. The way you gaped around his fingers, tightened and relaxed at his fingers that still kept you full.

“Good girl,” he cooed.

He must be experienced, because he was quick to rub your clit precisely as you went through the throes of orgasm. His broad palm never missed where that bundle of nerves were, until you’re dripping all over the place. Only when you’re right towards the end did he land a small smack atop your pussy, keeping pressure where your womb is to maintain the pleasure for as long as you could. It felt like this wasn’t a shit place for once. It felt like this stranger could surely turn the flesh-eating monsters into a field of rainbows and flowers from how good he’s making you feel.

“You taste sweet,” he muttered. “Someone ever told you that?”

It took you a while to notice that his fingers weren’t there to stuff you full. He was busy tasting you. You could imagine him on the other side of the room, rough fingers deep in his mouth, drenched in your arousal. The thought made you squirm, growing wet once more. You shook your head as his hand slid back up. His fingers ran over your clit with one long stroke before they stayed there. His thumb sat right atop the throbbing spot, unmoving.

"Perfect little thing, ain't ya?” he asked, and you nodded, your muscles tense as anticipation ran high. "Gonna fill you up real nice."

As soon as the dull tip of his cock prodded against your entrance, your whole body convulsed. Tears slowly crept into your eyes, frustrated, you might as well cry out a pathetic plea if he kept on stalling. Your palms banged flat against the side of the box. Overwhelmed and on the verge of tears when he purposefully missed your weeping hole. His length slid upwards, the warm tip rubbed against your clit from below before it shied away once more. Your toes curled and he must’ve taken the hint from behind the curtains.

The perfect stranger pushed himself up to where his mushroom-like tip ended, allowing you to adjust to the dimensions of his cock before he eased himself deeper.

You let out a strained moan.

You almost bump the top of your head on the oak boards when he forced his way in. His cock was fully inside you at last. You were ecstatic. Eyes shut close as you bit into your bottom lip, flesh tearing beneath your canines. It was too much all of a sudden. Too good. Too large. Too full. You could hear the loud squelching noise your spongy hole made as he pulled back and stuffed himself back in.

“Fuck,” he groaned silently. “Don’t squeeze around me, darlin’. You're gonna get me in big trouble.”

He chuckled and fuck did it sound so hot.

You felt his fingers gently reach for the width of your hips. His grip was tight and harsh as he guided your every movement with them. He thrusted like a man on a shooting range, with much precision and prowess. You liked this. Liked feeling as if you’re just a doll for people to use and dump their loads in, especially when it's for someone like him. His cock made you writhe and fight against the metal cuffs holding your legs up. Eager to have him speed up to meet your desires yet he was persistent in keeping a stable speed. The sensation was growing. Slowly but surely.

“A-ah.. mmph.. oh God!”

“God ain’t here to save you, darlin’. It’s just this old man right here,” he cooed crudely.

He made sure to keep you full at all times. Never once did his perfectly-sized cock leave your sloppy hole, it just kept on twitching and growing in size with the help of your warm embrace. “You like this, don’t ya?”

“Oh- oh yes. I like it. Love your..,” he stopped your lewd confession by placing his thumb back atop your once neglected clit, drawing lazily with what’s left of your wetness. You could feel him starting to seep. A tinge of his own arousal mixing in with yours. “Cock! Love your c- cock.”

His heavy pants started to intensify in volume, such a lovely melody when combined with your pathetic whimpers. He’s close.

“Gonna cum in you, darlin’” he muttered out breathlessly. “Gonna make sure you’re all fucked out with my cum.”

You couldn’t think straight. Not when you’re on a highway to heaven. Your little hole tightened, so eager to milk him dry.

“Yeah, you’d like that, won’t you?”

“O-oh.. oh yes. Please.. fuck,”

“Please?”

“Please fill me up.”

His tip started oozing out ribbons after ribbons of cum, quickly filling you up relentlessly. Though he hasn’t stopped bottoming himself up into you. His load sloshed around, coated his length a perfect milky shade, and dribbled down your rear deliciously. Did you really just let a complete stranger fill you up to the top? Did you truly just let him pour his seed up your needy hole?

Maybe you did.

And maybe it’s reckless.

But oddly enough, you don’t feel too bad about it.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #joel miller #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #tlou fic #tlou #the last of us

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sexiestpodcastcharacter · 4 months

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Eye Bracket — Finals

Propaganda

Cecil Gershwin Palmer (Welcome to Night Vale):

Purple eye man <3

Hes like, THE eye narrator guy for podcasts imo.

THE tumblr sexyman

Not too short or tall, not fat or too thin. With hair, a nose and eyes. Look, hes hot and sexy because he's an ambiguous gendered male pronoun character who's openly gay imminently. His hotness comes from his lack of description and his silly, whimsical nature. As a "The idea of having sex with my physical body is kinda yuck" ace, I would have sex with him irl if given the chance. He is the ONLY exception for my own minds rule. While that might not be real propaganda or whatever it should have weigh of how hot he is.

Cecil Gershwin Palmer my beloved ♥️♥️

Jonathan Sims/The Archivist (The Magnus Archives):

I just think it'd be funny if an asexual character won

(im ripping this from the wiki btw) John has prematurely greying hair and looks older than he is. He often looks very tired and is physically unfit, as other characters refer to him as scrawny and he tires easily from physical tasks that others perform with little exertion. he also has lots of scars.

(propaganda, spoilers for The Magnus Archives) He's a wet cat and at one point dated Georgie Barker and does date Martin Blackwood. there is also a whole tag/movement for "hot Jon rights". he may not be like, 10/10 on the attractive scale but his far off gaze has captivated me

My votes for jon tho, that wet tired cat of a man has captured my heart. He gives dilf vibes and i got a thing for those 0.o

So Jon has EYEBAGS‼️‼️ I rest my case Your Honor. Vote Jon

#Eye Bracket Round 4 #Cecil Palmer #Cecil Gershwin Palmer #Jonathan Sims #The Archivist #Welcome to Night Vale #The Magnus Archives #EDIT 12/25: Thanks to anastasiadalia for pointing out I had the wrong text on Jonathan's image. I had created the images and then tweaked #them and then *re*created them all so they would match again and I guess I missed that. Fixed now!

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marcmorrigan · 1 month

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finally delivering on the princess tutu headshots i promised... love these dysfunctional teens 🩰💖💕

LOTS of notes about headcanons/design choices under the cut! like. a lot. dont say i didnt warn you

starting with my specialest guy fakir:

i had a suuuper clear vision for fakir, and i couldnt be happier with how he turned out, he looks exactly how i imagine him! trying to translate his Bird-Shaped Hair into my style gave me SERIOUS homestuck flashbacks. my affinity for knights with Problems knows no bounds...

adding the hyperpigmentation around his eyes and his acne scars is what really solidified this for me-- i put those in and was like oh!!! there you are!!! my boy!!! and you can tell because i gave him acne scars + thick eyebrows that he IS my boy... there are very clear trends among my headcanons for my faves lol. big noses, thick eyebrows, skin imperfections, heavy eyebags, long dark hair... and fakir truly has it all 😤 he is so Ideal Character Design to me

i think fakir is actually pretty self-conscious about his appearance tho! we see characters like pike and lilie say hes handsome to ahiru, but i dont know how often he actually hears that? and im sure its hard not to compare himself to mytho, who is straight out of a fairy tale; being a regular teenager dealing with regular teen body stuff is hard enough without your roommate being a magically beautiful eternally youthful storybook hero. i think he probably internalises more that people see him as scary and angry, and that the girls who do have crushes on him always frame it in contrast to mytho, who is Good and Kind and Handsome, implying (or sometimes outright stating!) that fakir is Bad and Mean and... Well...

fakir is very sensitive but quiet about it, so i think its a very private point of self-consciousness. i think he puts a lot of semi-secret effort into his appearance; canonically he has a lot of very funny and clearly customised clothing, and he chooses to keep his hair long and in a very particular style (i have a whole breakdown in my mind of how he achieves that style and it involves a surprising amount of pins and an unsurprising fuckton of teasing. i think his hair is a little fried from heat damage!), and i think that probably extends to other things, too, like manicuring his eyebrows and doing a lot of very Teenage Skincare that doesnt actually help his acne much lol. i think he probably has a lot of self-injurious habits and BFRBs like skin picking and chewing, mostly at his acne and around his nails (both of which he hates, because he knows he shouldnt but does it anyway). i think if he does it enough that theres noticeable evidence it feels, like, world-ending for him, ESPECIALLY if anyone asks what happened lol. do not perceive him except in the very specific ways and contexts he approves of THANKS

on to the narratives favorite princess, mytho:

again, i had a pretty clear idea of the vibe i wanted mytho to have going into this-- i want him to have, like, extreme prince charming vibes, very Classically Handsome without necessarily being 'conventional.' i thought a lot about 'the happy prince' story while i was working on this, and really wanted him to look like a cross between how the prince statue looks in my head and a porcelain doll. and also a cross between jonny brown and brigitte bardot? lots of very direct influences for him lol. so! lots of gold tones, gemmy eye color, cute little tooth gap, quivering wide-eyed thousand-yard-stare doe eyes and big ol dolly anime lashes, which were the very last thing i added because i was NERVOUS about pulling those off lol. they turned out cute tho! ive only done a handful of pieces for this series and i can already tell princess tutu is gonna make me up my lash drawing game considerably, these kids all look like they blink and cause a hurricane from the gale force wind of their falsies

also wait i lied the very last thing i did was add his freckles/beauty marks because he needed that little extra oomph and those were It. i think he probably has some on his hands/wrists too 💕

i was a little unsure if my idea for his hair would translate with this flat-color approach but im pretty happy with it! its supposed to be afrotextured hair (somewhere between 3b and 4c i think? wide range of potential i knowww but im still kind of hammering out my headcanons okay, this is exploratory lol) thats been rolled and finger-styled into his little feather shapes. i think loose, chunky twists would be another fun way to interpret his hair and twists are one of my fave styles to draw do i might draw him like that at some point too...

i guess fakir is the one who styles his hair for him before mytho gets his heart back? i imagine fakir is pretty meticulous about maintaining mythos health and appearance, even at the worst stages of their relationship. i think itd be hard for fakir to frame the way he treats mytho as For Mythos Sake if he wasnt doing some level of actually beneficial care for him, so being really fastidious about things like mythos diet and sleep hygiene and hair care and such gives fakir an outlet for his 'you just have to do what i tell you' thing that helps him convince himself it really is helping, no really, hes doing this for mythos benefit and he just has to be strict with him because mytho doesnt UNDERSTAND he needs PROTECTING and fakir is the ONLY ONE who can do it so mytho HAS to let him because if he doesnt then why does fakir even EXIST, if he cant manage this then what is he good for, and--

yknow. the usual complexes. and their relationship is so complex!!! but also so simple, but like. in a good way. fakirs behavior is complicated but his motivation regarding mytho is SO straightforward which makes that downward spiral into harm really easy to map out... i wont go much into that in this post since this is about visual/appearance-related headcanons but just. augh. i love this show and i love these characters!!! and i hope its apparent in my work that i do love them so <3

im hoping to do a set of these for the girls next!!! i have some other stuff to finish first but hopefully... Soon... Some Birds...

#princess tutu #fakir #mytho #prince siegfried #my art #i had sooo much fun playing around with style in these... the super strong white highlights + underpainting combo looks SO lovely #i should take this approach more often i almost never do!!! it rules and is fun to do #i was listening to my fakir playlist nonstop for DAYS while working on this and still intermittently since...#it feels like ive been sitting on these for a month but its only been 5 days omg. crazy... good to know tho #anyway i love themmm theyre everything. SO fun to draw i really hope i can do more art of them. i Want To... i have Ideas >:o)#btw is putting notes on my thoughts under a cut like this interesting for yall? its fun for me but idk if yall wanna read all that #i will probably continue regardless bc i love to hear myself talk esp abt my design choices but #im curious if my notes on my thought process are interesting to anyone else #if not oh well! thats what the cut is for 😤 nobodys gotta read it if they dont wanna im doing this for Me #full color

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avisisisis · 24 days

Text

Am I the only one who doesn't really like the way they aged up Astrid in the 2nd and 3rd movies??

Like, don't get me wrong, she's still a great character, and she's gorgeous. But I think that last thing might be the problem

They made her appearance too perfect (especially in the 3rd movie). I mean, she always had some of that in her. She's skinny, blond and has blue eyes and a tiny noae. But in the first movie, she's so much more... human

Look at her. Look at her teeth, specifically. They're imperfect, even if they're still white. Her eyes have a little darkness(? surrounding them, tho idk if that's just a stylistic choice or eyebags

Look at the way her face is built too. She has a somewhat big (not actually big, but bigger than it is in the other movies) forehead and you can see that she has freckles in this picture. When she smiles, her upper teeth show. Her face is more like, uh, the bottom of a heart than circle too. Idk how to describe it

Imperfect teeth, reddish face (though that might just be the lighting), dark spots around her face

Now look at her in here. Her teeth are just... perfect. She's perfect. Her forehead is smaller too, and her skin is completely clear and smooth (when you grow up, your face and body changes, I know that. She still does seem like Astrid! But as far as I know, teeth don't completely change shape as you grow up. Unless you pay to change them or something. And I'm pretty sure Vikings didn't have that kind of stuff)

Her face is a lot rounder too

I mean, compare this

To this

There is a big difference

Now, I don't mind the HTTYD 2 model. I actually like it!! It's not that bad, there's just a few changes in the design that I didn't completely like (same with Toothless)

The second movie's Astrid really does feel like Astrid, even though she's changed from the girl she was as a teen. She may not be the child who tackled Hiccup to protect him from Toothless anymore, but she is still Astrid Hofferson, and it shows in both her appearance and manners

But the HTTYD 3 models are just... not it

Perfect teeth, somehow even smoother skin, beautiful soft-looking hair

I'm not a big fan of how the high quality of HTTYD 3 makes the characters look. Honestly I just don't like the third movie at all

(I do like the smile lines, though. I admit they did a pretty good job with that)

And if you thought the second movie made her head a little rounder, then just look at this

She's a fucking square!! She got the Toothless treatment!!!

ANYWAY-- this is just my opinion, so don't come attack me for it. I just don't like those small things from the second movie and everything about the third movie. Fuck the third movie

#they fucked up toothless too #but i'm gonna complain about that in another post #httyd #how to train your dragon #movies #the hidden world #httyd 3 bashing #thw #astrid hofferson #avis' post

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pix3lplays · 2 months

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OMG I also bet that dr ratio is a lightweight when it comes to alcohol lawl😭 a simple mix of cola and a weak shot of vodka is enough to get him DRUNKEN.

I’m talking stumbling, tripping, all dizzy and clumsy.

but he’s also silly about it, he gets up with a cute but goofy grin on his face.

When he’s about to trip, he grips your arm so you fall with him. If he trips, you bet your ass you’re coming down with him.

what would be funny tho is if you set up a camera while he was drunk to show him during his hangover as torture😈

he’s got eyebags and is drinking a cup of extra sting coffee, he doesn’t remember a lot (surprisingly), so imagine his shock when you show him a clip of him drunk. He’s spinning you around and twirling you and carrying you around all while you’re giggling.

we must start a drunk characters club !!

I’m getting so many Drunk Dr. Ratio stuff oh my gosh that’s so funny-

And yeah I’ll stand by he’s Totally a lightweight with alcohol. Absolutely.

It’s entertaining to watch him make a complete fool of himself…I feel like he Usually knows his limits but. Every once in a while…

He’s watching the video you recorded of him and he’s in Complete denial. He’s like no there’s no way that’s me. That man you’re dancing with is not me. It’s just some stranger that he doesn’t know who just happens to look exactly like him for some reason.

Yeah he basically goes through the stages of grief watching the videos of him.

You’re nice to him though. You’re not going to share those videos, but…if you ever need to blackmail him for whatever reason maybe don’t delete those…

#drinking #tw drinking #cw drinking #alcohol #cw alcohol #tw alcohol #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #Dr Ratio #Dr Ratio x reader #hsr Dr Ratio x reader #honkai star rail dr ratio x reader

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fqiryspit · 2 years

Text

𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧 ; 𝐞.𝐣𝐚𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐫

insomniac!eren x reader

cw: heavy degradation, shower sex, breeding kink, spitting kink, hair pulling, pet names, eren is a big meanie

your boyfriend, Eren, has been dealing with insomnia all his life

tho, when those sleepy teal eyes smile at you, they call you his remedy

and that, you'll always be.

all of your apartment lights were off as you lay on Eren's chest, your face to the tv as his steady breaths whisper for you to stay glued on the couch. you can hear the traffic speeding outside -some sirens, some honking, some speeding and it was all so calming.

you loved the city, especially at night, your big windows letting you have all the lights off and have the pretty yellow glow of the city seep into your apartment -and well of course you have the blue light of your shitty favorite show on the tv, their voices muffled as you and Eren just wanted to relax

you blink towards the clock you set up on the coffee table for decoration, 2:00 am...shower time!

you've become accustomed to his habits as they tainted your schedule, though you really didn't mind -maybe your eyebags minded, but not you. you've always been a night owl so this hasn't really bothered you...plus it means you get to spend more time with your lover

you look up to Eren to alert him of this needy routine but he is asleep. wait...he is asleep?

you go stiff. you can't move an inch as you hold your breath...Eren hasn't said a word in over an hour...you just thought he was...relaxing.

a whimper escaped your lips as you let out a breath you've been holding, shit

you close your eyes as you start to feel the regret of waking him up, the first time he's ever gone to bed this early and you've woken him up.

but...he doesn't wake up

Eren never sleeps like this...this baby boy is the lightest of all light sleepers so for him to be knocked out cold like this...is weird

he must be in a coma. you think It's the only logical explanation for all this. and maybe it is

your leg twitches from being so still and you watch in amazement as he still lays there, perfect.

you slowly strip yourself from him, watching his face to make sure you didn't wake him. once you're fulling standing over him you realize how creepy you look and you turn to grab the remote

you stop dead in your tracks as you think about the implications of the tv turning off, the light going out and the voices that soothed him to sleep shutting off randomly will certainly wake him

so, you lay the remote back down as you slid your socks to your shared bedroom -too scared to fully walk

and boom. you're in the bathroom, a towel ready for you on top of the toilet as you stand in the mirror, in shock.

in the entirety of your relationship you've never showered alone, it's unthinkable. Eren is always supposed to hold you as the searing water splashes over you...and now, it's just you.

"it's like he's dead or something" you whisper as you peel your sticky clothes off, now bare you bite down on your lip hard as you turn on the shower, praying it didn't wake him up

you let a whimper out as the hot water hits your achy body, it's exactly what you need right now.

the steam collects itself on the glass door as the water screams at you, you have your head low as the water rushes through your hair and back down to your toes. it burns but it is such a good feeling

the searing liquid travels down your body to soothe those tense muscles and to- FUCK IT'S COLD

you tighten up at the sudden cold air hits your backside just for it to stop and-

"showering without me baby?" a very sleepy eren grumbles as he walks over to wrap his arms around your shoulders

"ereeeen you were supposed to sleep!" you whine as you lifted your head for it to hit against his chest, you looked up to him where his long hair curtained you both

"you and I both know that wasn't gonna last long." he teases and you whimper in frustration as you look to the side, glossy lips pouting together as your brows furrowed

and then you felt kisses travel up your neck

soft pads pedaling up your neck making your breath hitch, his hot tongue swiped up your soft spot and began to suck on it

his hand ran up your stomach and landed on your tender breast, massaging the mound until you squeaked out a moan for him

"Eren don't tease me" you huffed in frustration, he always teases you in the shower just to make you wait until you both are out

"Baby..." he whispered in your ear, pressing his erection up against your ass as his now dripping wet hair stuck onto his face as he groaned in your ear

"need you...now" your eyes widen as he spun you around, pressing you against the tile wall as your core quivered... he was gonna fuck you...here?

the steam heavied in your lungs as tension rose, your pretty buds how rock hard as his cock told the same story, pretty red tip angry with pre-cum drizzling out of it

he rubs his cock against your thigh as he started to beg you to let him in

"Please baby, I need you now, please let me play with that pussy" he whined in your ear as your face flushed, your pussy twitched at his tone and his dick cried when he humped his cock on your thigh a little faster

Eren is never like this, he isn't much of a dirty talker but damn it felt nice for him to say what's on his mind

just what exactly did he dream about?

"fuck! yes just fuck me eren!" you moaned as he cupped your thighs and lifted you up like it was nothing

"-and don't fucking drop me"

"would never baby" he winked, his dick stood on his own so with all his might and one angled thrust, he was in your tight walls

he threw his head back when he entered you, pretty throat on display as it bobbed, moaning a quick "fuck!" you moaned your own curses but your mouth was having trouble saying anything but whines as he stretched you out

you looked up as Eren stared back down at you, pretty green eyes glowing as he stared down at you like you were nothing but a hole -and fuck, it felt good to just be a hole right now. his shoulder-length hair was dripping back onto your tits as the rest framed around his face -some sticking onto his features but it made it all the hotter. and fuck, not to mention his chest was rising and falling with fast pants as the water fell in every crevice of his abs

you would gladly be a hole for him right now

he moved his cock in and out of you, pushing it to the brim and kissing your cervix to pull it out to just to tip and slam back into your drooling cunt

"Fuck eren!" you wept as his cock filled you up so good, your walls fluttered around him so perfectly as you squeeze him tighter

"fuck! don't fucking do that" he growled at you, canine exposed as your boyfriend was gone -now just the body of him and an incubus taking over him

your fingernails dug deep into his shoulders as your screamed his name, you legs squeezed him impossibly closer as you cried on his cock

he rammed into you as you let one of your hands fall limp, finding place on one of your bouncing breasts as you squeezed it. your mouth was stuck open as moans escaped your throat -he was going so fucking hard it almost hurt

"feel good baby? does it feel fucking good?" he hissed as you quickly nodded, your head becoming fuzzy as you didn't know anything else except his piercing eyes and his cock

"look at me baby, come a little closer and don't you dare close that fucking mouth" you did as you were told just for him to spit into your open mouth, you swallowed without hesation and you felt yourself clech around him tighter

he went faster as he mumble how hot that was, your hands going back to ruining his shoulders as he continues his frantic movements

"fuck baby I'm gonna fill you up so fucking good, you gonna be a good cumslut f'me now, yeah?" he grumbled as he waited for an answer that never came, halting his movements making you whine for him, hands that were clawing at him were now petting him and feeling him as you wondered what happened

he took one of his hands that were holding you up and wrapped it around your chin, gripping it forward to you look him in the eyes

"use your words baby"

"'s your cumslut" you babbled as you fucked yourself back and forth on his cock, crying for more movement as he stripped that from you

"that's fucking right, bitch" you couldn't help but moan incredibly loud at his obscene words

"I think I'm gonna cum!" you cried out, you hated how those words brought you this close but eren lit something in your tonight that you couldn't get enough of.

your hands locked into his hair as you pulled on it, squeezing some of the water out as he groaned at the tugging, sharp eyes glaring at you but he loved it

"fucking cum for me baby, cream on this cock" he fucked into you at an unruly pace, your pretty walls clamping down on him causing a loud groan to escape from his chest

"fuck!" you cried as a white squirted all over him, pretty cream painting his lower abdomen and getting stuck in his pubic hair

"fuck baby that was so fucking hot" he let out one more staggering groan before filling your womb up with his cum mumbling "take it" as he released everything into you

your breath still shaking after that as he begins to rock back and forth, fucking his cum deeper into you as it was louder than the showers screams

"'s gonna make you a baby" he whispered as he grinded back and forth and you didn't mind, just laid limp in his arms and nodded to whatever he said your ears ringing as immense exhaustion hit you

the next moments were in blinks as Eren washed you, dried you, dressed you, and laid you down on the bed where you gained a little consciousness back -enough to roll over and hug Eren, digging your nose into his chest as you took in his scent as he wrapped his arms around you

"I love you" Eren whispered into your ear, rubbing your back as you fell to sleep

"I love you too" you mumbled back, now taking in the traffic speeding outside -some sirens, some honking, some speeding...and it was all so calming.

an: ahhhh! heyyy shawtyyy! eek, I love this so much! (completely the opposite eren from my headcanons, but I still love it) fuck mean eren is so hot! I really enjoyed writing this! you can see eren is in a sleep trance so dw real insomnia!eren is a lot more chill hehe! alright bye I love you guys, mwauh ♡

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silly-l1ttle-guy · 4 months

Note

drop every headcanon of the bucci gang NOW!

ON IT BOSS!!!

--- pookie bear bruno hcs first <3

BRUNO BUCCIARATI IS 100% GAY FOR LEONE ABBACCHIO

they just kinda live together

bruabba holds a special place in my heart

bruno's probably stressed out 24/7

VERY FEMININE GUY

hes got soft features yk?

probably spends like 3 hours doing his hair in the morning

ISTG HE PROBABLY SMELLS SO GOOD

I like to think that he legally adopted Fugo after fugso bugso joined that gang

SHUT UP IT MAKES ME HAPPY

poor guy overworks himself WAY too often

he also has the most gorgeous eyelashes you'll ever see

and they're natural, too

THIS MAN HAS EYEBAGS

he's tired af half the time, idk what you expected

he tries to help fugo control his anger (bc he's a loving mother) (giorno does it better tho)

i reckon bruno's pansexual tbh, he just seems like he wouldn't give a shit about his partner's gender

he likes going fishing

brought Abbacchio along one time

abba got seasick and threw up

he likes to accessorize his hair (hence the mitochondria hair clips)

sometimes he'll let the others accessorize his hair, too

trish makes it look really cute

abba makes it look stunning (bc it's his boyfriend)

narancia just puts random shit in his hair

Mista sings loudly (and badly) to be a little shit while he does Bruno's hair (it turns out surprisingly ok)

giorno deadass just puts a shit ton of stars in his hair

fugo gets mad and almost rips a chunk of Bruno's hair out

Bruno's guilty pleasure is midnight snacks

abbacchio caught him eating a whole ass tub of ice cream while watching il postino: the postman at like 2 in the morning

they watched it together and cuddled afterwards

hot goth

gay for bruno

he probably watches those make up youtube channels

if he didn't join passione he could be a make up artist

lets trish practice on him

HE SEES NARANCIA AS HIS SON AND YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE

he's full on protective of nara too

i like to give abbacchio sharper features when i draw him tbh

also a larger nose

and while we're at it, let's hook that bad boy (the nose)

he and bruno go on wine testing dates

he has very frequent and reoccurring nightmares

(its why he sleeps with bruno)

his parents cut contact when they found out he was a dirty cop :(

this man saw narancia on his first day in the gang and accepted his fate as a father LMAO

he's a gay man and you can't tell he's not. Never felt attraction towards women

he feels like time moves by too fast. Everything happens so quickly and he wishes he could go back and just relive certain parts of his life over and over again because he feels like everything happens so quickly now that he's older and it overwhelms him (this definitely isn't me projecting what're you talking about)

moody blues is sort of the representation of this

SENTIENT MOODY BLUES SUPREMACY BY THE WAY

Moody blues is curvy and i won't accept anything else

make moody look goddamn feminine

not too feminine obviously but like

moody looks like a woman compared to abbacchio

tells people he can't dance but he definitely can

just play the right music and give him enough wine and he'll be dancing like he's never danced before (only in private tho)

YOOUU CAN DANCE, YOOUU CAN JIIVVEEEEE~~

EVERYTIME I LISTEN TO HALF-DECADE HANGOVER BY WILL WOOD I JUST THINK OF ABBACCHIO

and maybe euthanasia by will wood too

not even kidding, abbacchio has the same body type as a greek god

also the strongest guy in the team

the guy that has a dream

GIORNO. WHERE DO I FUCKING START.

I love this weird ass fucking guy

gay for fugo. that's all I'm gonna say.

I KNOW HE ACTED FRUITY W/ MISTA BUT IT'S BC HE'S A LITTLE SHIT WHO LIKES TO FLIRT WITH HIS FRIENDS AS A JOKE

not abba or bruno tho (they're too old for his taste)

remember that one seen where he and mista are up against cioccolata (fuck him btw) and they do that gay ass pose?

prime example of giorno being a little shit

putting his hand down mista's pants was an accident by the way, he just said "fuck it" and went with it

he probably showed the gang the thing he could do with his ear

they had very mixed reactions

one day (before the gang) he woke up and saw his roots were blond and he just went like "sigh, guess I have to grow my hair out and become barbie

THIS MAN RIGHT HERE IS THE TWINK

also bc his dad is dio I like to think that he sunburns easily

he can also see really well and the dark

"It's so dark in here, I can't see shit!" "I can, there's a light switch over there."

everyone was confused as hell bc it was pitch black in that room

this man is gay. he likes BOYS and BOYS ONLY

i like to think Giorno's a mischievous lil guy

he does something silly then giggles and runs away

it's to make up for the fact that he didn't have a proper childhood

ALSO CURLY HAIR GIORNO SUPREMACY

his hair is gorgeous and luxurious AND SO FUCKING CURLY

he uses about 20 hair products every day (21 if he's going on a date)

he can calm fugo down so easily too

"I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU NARANCIA-" "Hi fugo!" "Oh, hey Giorno."

it's really scary (according to narancia and mista)

this man loves gardening

born to be a gardener, forced to be a gangstar

autistic (it runs in the family)

the stink

Mista is the type of guy who showers once or twice a week

he only washes his clothes when they get too dirty

I like to make this man a little wider honestly

GIVE THIS MAN SOME CHUB PLEASE

he's muscular, but he's gotta have a little meat on there too

I like to think that Mista outright REFUSES to shave

the only place that he can grow barely any hair is his face

never shaved his face. He doesn't have much facial hair and he'll be damned if he ever has to get rid of the little that he has

bffs with trish btw

they make fun of each other all the time

in a friendly way

he honestly looks the least gay out of everyone

probably bi with a heavy preference towards girls (he had a boyfriend one time tho)

STINKS SO BAD IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY

sometimes he shoves Narancia's face in his armpit for fun

I'm not even kidding Narancia probably threw up one time bc Mista stank so bad

older brother figure to EVERYONE

Giorno? that's his baby brother. Narancia? his favourite brother. Trish? his little sister. Fugo? that's his angry little brother.

I have so many mista headcanons it's unreal

his hair is so fucking curly istg

and it's black too

very short tho. also super greasy

his love language is physical touch, but not in the usual physical touch way

he won't really hug people or hold hands or just do something normal, oh no

my guy likes to pick people up and throw them over his shoulder

it's definitely not to show off how strong he is

definitely

everything about him is so crusty

he literally gets along with anyone tho

you can't tell me this guy DOESN'T smoke weed

not very often but like

once every month or two he'll get high to relax

he stopped after Giorno took over as boss (bc yk, drugs are a no no)

he probably thinks France isn't real tbh (but as a joke to annoy fugo)

I HAVE MORE MISTA HEADCANONS BUT I HAVE TO CUT IT SHORT BECAUSE I NEED TO MOVE ON TO THE OTHERS

angry strawb (lots of angst in this one)

fugo is deeply in love with Giorno (FUGIO FOR LIFE)

a little bit of angst warning btw

bc of his past, fugo HATES physical touch

if someone touches him he will flinch

very uncomfortable in crowded places

Mista's love language is physical touch, but he refrains himself from touching Fugo

it's really sweet

"HEY FUGO! Lemme give you a high-five! Wait, no, you don't like that. Have this cool rock I found instead!"

he's trying

Fugo really appreciates it

after phf, he let Mista be one of the two people who can touch him (the other person is Giorno)

Fugo just randomly hugged him one day and that was that

he was really distraught when he found out Narancia, Bruno and abba died

especially Bruno

like I said before, Bruno adopted him after he joined the gang, so he genuinely saw Bruno as a father figure

definitely called Bruno "dad" in private

He genuinely cried when he realized he missed Bruno's funeral

MOVING ON TO THE NON ANGSTY STUFF BC IM GONNA CRY

when he's a bad mood, he listens to music with Abbacchio (his dad's cool boyfriend who he looks up to)

will correct any and all spelling or grammar mistakes

nerd supreme

i like to headcanon that Fugo's albino

(MANGA FUGO FOR LIFE)

he's really sensitive to sunlight because of it

his vision isn't that good, too

it's not bad enough to the point where he can't read and all that, but it definitely bothers him

since it wasn't too serious, he got some glasses that corrected his vision

he only really wears them when he's reading now, but he used to wear them all the time when he was younger

GOD I HAVE A LOT OF FUGO HEADCANONS

sometimes he wakes up and there's just a bouquet of flowers at the foot of his bed (I WONDER WHO THAT WAS HMMMM)

Narancia's like a little brother towards him

he doesn't care that nara's a year older than him, that's his brother

genuinely will forget to eat if he isn't reminded (me projecting)

i have more but i'm gonna have to end it here

BABY BOY <3

I LOVE NARANCIA I HAVE A NARANCIA PLUSHIE (and a giorno one but that's less important)

he originally had really good eyesight, but after his eye got infected his eyesight just kinda went bad

his eyes expired

but seriously though (woah no way, silly little guy can be serious?), he's almost blind in the eye that got infected

doesn't wanna wear glasses bc "they'll ruin his reputation"

he's also really short compared to everyone else in the team

he's really insecure about it

can and will fight anyone who says something even remotely teases him for his height

low iron for sure (me too bud, me too)

Abbacchio just took on the role as his father and makes sure he eats all his food

"But it tastes badddd" "Eat it or I'll shove it down your throat. Also, it has good iron."

he ate it, but was very pouty about it the whole time

mista will point at things made of iron and say shit like "that's what you need" or "you should eat that to get your iron levels up"

skinny but he's really strong

my guy has a six pack but looks scrawny as hell

Mista's jealous of him lmao

"Why do YOU get a six pack?!" "because you're fat"

Mista then forced Narancia to smell his armpits (they were rank)

he does a lot of shit with Mista lmao

partners in crime

he got high with mista one time and never did it again

oddly flexible

he's probably dyslexic

the girlboss

live laugh love Trish

lesbian fr

she practices makeup on Abbacchio

another one that sees abba as a father figure

they point each other's nails and go shopping together

Mista's bff fr

they do karaoke together

yk that one tiktok sound that was that like "OH SHIT IT'S IN KOREAN" and then starts singing it perfectly anyway

that's her and Mista

Mista's the one that sings it lmao

i don't have that many headcanons for trish tbh

she likes to try out new hairstyles a lot

they're always short tho

she doesn't like growing out her hair

says it's too much of hassle

we love trish in the household

she has freckles (from doppio)

yk those weird ass dots diavolo has in his hair? she has those but they're less noticeable

talks shit about people with abbacchio

she likes ranting about stuff to giorno bc he's a good listener

big fan of scented candles

gave mista soap for his birthday

she has frequent headaches (something she got from doppio, bc i hc that he has frequent headaches)

ANYWAY THAT'S IT FOR NOW

do you wanna hear about my la squadra headcanons? Doppio and Diavolo??? PLEASE I HAVE SO MANY GOOD HEADCANONS JUST LET ME RANT-

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 7 months

Text

in the dream i don’t tell anyone, you put your head in my lap ; shoko ieiri

synopsis; ever since the battle in shinjuku came to its conclusion, nothing’s been the same as it used to. but you don’t think anyone is doing quite as badly as shoko.

word count; 4.5k

contents; shoko ieiri/reader, gn!reader, canon-typical mentions of death (iykyk), angst, hurt/comfort (but not very heavy on the comfort), jjk spoilers (up to chapter 236!!), mild gore (mentions of blood, autopsies and general gore-ish imagery? nothing too bad tho), shoko ieiri deserves better, includes gojo slander (stay safe gojo nation)

a/n; first of all i just wanna apologize to the shoko girlies for writing angst when we’re already so starved of content, i have like 50 fluff drabbles planned for her but chapter 236 threw me into a mental angst pit so </3 yeah. i love my wife!!

shoko hasn’t been herself for a while.

the thought sneaks its way into your subconscious, as your feet carry you to her morgue — a rotten thought you just can’t seem to rinse away.

it’s not very hard to notice. she doesn’t talk as much, for one. not that shoko was ever much of a talker, but now the silence around her is deafening. thick and heavy like the spine of a knife. and she smiles even less.

you can’t remember the last time you heard her laugh.

the crescents beneath her eyes are darker than ever, darker than you thought possible. a murky purple that you’d find soothing in any other context, but like this it’s just revolting. her eyes are deep and dark, the same as ever, but now they’re glazed over with something you can’t quite put your finger on.

apathy, maybe.

or bloodlust.

the scent of cigarette smoke that follows her is suffocating. indistinguishable from her natural scent. you don’t know if she’ll ever be able to scrub the tobacco stench off her skin.

(you’ve given up on counting the exact number of cigarettes she smokes each day. you’re not sure you want to know the answer.)

she doesn’t even look alive, anymore. like some part of her already reached its expiration date. a spectre, wandering the hallways, filling the air with the slow, ominous clacking of her heels.

shoko hasn’t been herself for a while — and it’s so obvious. her grief is so heavy, her sleep-deprivation so severe. you’d have to be blind not to notice it.

so why hasn’t anyone said anything?

you gnaw at your bottom lip, trying to suffocate the bitterness swimming inside your veins. it’s a dumb question, really, because you already know. you don’t want to acknowledge it, because it’s so unfair, but you know. of course you do.

no one has the time to. it’s as simple as that.

no one’s doing well, anymore. not since shinjuku.

not since gojo died.

shoko’s grief is a fickle thing. always with her, tucked away within those eyebags, in the pockets of her coat. in that smell of tobacco, never-fading, always lingering. it follows her like a ghost, like something she’ll never quite be rid of.

(like something she doesn’t want to be rid of.)

shoko’s grief is a fickle thing, and it always has been. but recently, it’s been downright overwhelming. it used to be subtle, the kind of thing you notice if you look close enough. if you squint. if you even care enough to try.

but now, it’s more like a haunting than a simple ghost.

(geto. nanami. yaga. and now gojo, too.

how many people does she have to lose before whatever’s watching is satisfied?)

shoko hasn’t been herself for a while, and it’s obvious, and it’s sickening. she still does her duty to a tee, but she isn’t quite there anymore. gaze always forlorn, as if she’s trying to convince herself of something.

and yet no one says a thing.

everything is one big mess, right now. you don’t want to blame anyone. everyone’s exhausted, completely and utterly spent, but they’re still planning it all out. even in the midst of their mourning. because they don’t have any other choice.

this is not the kind of situation where you should be pointing fingers. a part of you is angry, livid even — but you know the others are doing just as badly. it’s not like you aren’t, either.

still, though. isn’t this just too unfair?

”i brought you coffee!”

making sure your voice doesn’t waver is tougher than you initially assumed. just the sight of her sends a tremor running through your ribs; sunken down in her chair, papers in hand, eyes scanning the pages methodically. papers of what, you’d like to ask — but you already know.

(she’s reading through the post-mortem examination report, again. searching for something you don’t understand. you’re not sure she does, either.)

and she looks exhausted.

try as you might, your voice ends up sounding a little stale, as it flows from your lips and reaches her ears. but the attempt is there — the attempt to sound cheerful, calm. normal. to give her something to hold on to.

shoko looks up at you, and her lips curl in a way you think is supposed to form a smile. it doesn’t. her eyes look into yours but it’s like she’s not seeing you at all.

when you go to give her the cup of espresso, your fingertips touch. only for a second, before she curls her fingers around the ceramic handle. she receives the coffee with a small murmur of thanks, but you don’t notice because you’re too busy thinking of how cold her skin feels.

(cold like a ghost. cold like death.)

shaking away the shivers down your spine, you allow your gaze to trail over the morgue. it looks the same as always. cold, empty. foreboding. today, you think it feels just a little chillier than usual. matching the temperature of the outside world, where everything lies buried in heaps of snow and frost.

hesitantly, you plop down in the seat right next to hers. with such a narrow distance, you can smell the tobacco sticking to her clothing. it makes you want to throw up.

(you try not to look over at the couch in the corner of the room, where a certain someone used to slack off. his awkwardly long limbs would dangle off the edges, and shoko would pretend that she didn’t enjoy his company. you were more than content with silently admiring the smile she was trying to hide.)

shoko doesn’t look at you, professional in the way her eyes run across the files. cause of death: damage to central intestines, subsequent loss of blood. from a cut to the stomach, right below the liver and spleen.

you look away before your eyes can read another line.

leaning back in your chair, you exhale a tiny sigh. desperate to fill the silence with something, anything at all. you scramble for topics, racking your brain.

(what could you possibly tell her that she doesn’t already know?)

”the others are still planning everything out,” you speak, playing with your fingers idly to distract yourself. ”i think it’s going well.”

shoko hums, unaffected. ”that’s good.”

she’s speaking to you, but that feeling of unease still won’t go away. her voice sounds still, flat. empty of emotion. but you can tell she’s trying to be polite.

that’s no surprise. shoko isn’t the type to ever show how she’s truly feeling. she’s not the type to ask for help, either. people come to her for help, not the other way around. that’s all she’s ever known.

(in that sense, the two of them were alike.)

but that just makes it all the more important for you to be there. even if you’re a little awkward, and even if you can’t do much. even if it’s only for a moment or two, you want to see her smile. you want to feel for yourself that she’s really there.

looking over at shoko, you wring your hands together, the cold air of the morgue nipping at your sweaty palms. she’s drinking from the cup, one finger around the handle as her other hand flips through the papers.

”does it taste okay?” you ask, softly. if only you could ask her that under better circumstances, with cups of espresso made with better coffee machines than those at jujutsu high. ”i made it myself, so…”

”it’s fine.” shoko takes a sip. dragging her syllables out, as if mustering the will to speak. ”don’t worry.”

short sentences. almost cold, but you know better than that. she just doesn’t have it in her to pretend that everything is normal, anymore.

and it makes you uncomfortable. this silence.

a couple months ago, it would have felt comforting; a quiet, peaceful kind of solitude shared between the two of you. nostalgic, like the smell of morning dew. or the way moonlight feels on your skin when the world falls asleep.

the silence you had with shoko always felt so tender. a single moment of peace, before the other shoe dropped. just that one moment was enough to give you the hope you needed to make it through another day.

you loved being silent with shoko. you loved her silence, the way she could soothe your very soul without saying a thing.

but now it only stings your skin. you fear that you might drown in it.

there is nothing to say. you want to ask her how she’s doing, but you already know. you want to ask her why she’s still reading the files from gojo’s autopsy, but you already know.

you want to ask her if she can still keep going, like this. but you already know.

she doesn’t have a choice.

(something crumbles, deep inside your chest, like ashes cast into the sea.)

”hey. shoko?”

she hums, again. weak. quiet. absentminded, acknowledging your words but not really hearing them.

you take a deep breath.

”i think i’m going to quit being a sorcerer.”

silence.

for a moment, nothing happens. nothing moves, or speaks. the air is cold and crisp and carries no meaning, no words, nothing at all.

like time is frozen. frozen like all the bodies shoko’s had to dig inside these past few months. frozen like gojo was when she found him in the snow.

frozen like your youth, a glass marble kept in your pocket for moments when you feel as if the ground beneath your feet is about to slip away. then you’d take it out, and look deep inside it. watch the swirling of greens and blues and purples. that streak of indigo right in the middle of the glass. memories of the past, to give you comfort.

to remind yourself of why you’re doing this. to give you a reason to keep moving forward.

(south or north, it doesn’t matter. stay as you are or move forward, look to the past or to the future — none of it matters if you aren’t alive. that’s the conclusion you came to.)

shoko’s expression, too, is frozen. it doesn’t change, even as you let those loaded words fall from your tongue. you watch her carefully, out of the corner of your eye. she doesn’t even look at you, gaze still glued to the tiny letters detailing exactly what gojo’s pulse was at when he got cut.

but something flickers, in the depths of her irises, so fast you barely catch it. something you can’t identify, but it’s still something. it’s movement. it’s alive.

”not right now, obviously,” you elaborate. suddenly a little nervous, now that the words have been made manifest. ”but… you know. once all this is over.”

not sure what else to say, you trail off, fidgeting with your fingers again. voice wavering pitifully towards the end of the sentence, because deep down you know it’s not a question of once, but a question of if.

(if this ever ends. if i don’t die tomorrow, or the day after that.)

you swallow the lump in your throat, and look at her. trying to find her eyes. trying to keep her alive for as long as you can, this sequence of motion, this moment frozen in time.

trying to reach her.

”you won’t ever have to worry about me dying,” you throw in, like the words are light and not heavy as bricks. but you know she needs to hear them. ”i’ll leave, and then — and then…”

staring down at your lap, you link your hands together. exhaling, a little breathless. sheepish, in a way. ”… well. i don’t know. i haven’t thought that far ahead, yet.”

you never had the chance to. you didn’t even really think of it as a possibility, as something you could do. and you know it’s not a possibility for shoko. the choice to be a sorcerer was never hers, from the very beginning.

a user of the reverse cursed technique. capable of healing almost any wound, more power and capability than a child should ever have. invaluable. she’s saved so many lives you’re sure she’ll be reborn as a god.

but the choice was never hers.

a soothing kind of ache blooms in both your palms, as your nails dig into the soft skin. hard enough to form crescents, like the ones under shoko’s eyes, that she’ll never be rid of no matter how much she sleeps. the choice was never hers.

isn’t that just too cruel?

they don’t deserve her. none of them do. the elders didn’t, the jujutsu world doesn’t — not even the students. no one deserves it; everything she does for everyone, day and night, just slaving away in the morgue or her office. cutting up curses and old friends. every second of the day, always that same buzzing of her name being called.

shoko, someone needs healing, come quick!

shoko, i know it’s 2 am and you have work tomorrow, but there’s a curse that i need you to dissect.

shoko, i think i got a paper cut, would you mind taking a look?

none of them deserve her.

you think of gojo. a flash of white hair, a grin brighter than the sun. a bloodstained smile — one shoko had to wipe away.

something ugly claws its way up your throat.

none of them deserve her. especially not him.

what were you thinking, leaving her all alone like this? so much for being the strongest. you couldn’t even stay alive.

why would you die with a smile on your face? do you have any idea how cruel that is to her?

you idiot. don’t you know how much she missed you?

— yeah. none of them deserve her. gojo doesn’t, the world doesn’t, and neither do you. no one does.

what shoko deserves is to live a normal life.

and she never will.

it’s foolish. it’s naive, a juvenile daydream. but you wish for it so, so badly. so much that even just the thought alone feels like too much to bear.

you wish you could bring her with you.

you wish you could take her hand in yours, and run away. leave it all behind, every single thing, without caring about the consequences. you’d hold her hand and never let it go, and then you’d run and run until you were both high on adrenaline and breathless laughter.

maybe you could go somewhere, together. somewhere better. outside of japan, where there are less curses. money wouldn’t be an issue, you both have more than you know what to do with — one of the perks of having a job that’s bound to kill you. you could settle down in some smaller town, peaceful, maybe a little secluded. just to make sure no one finds you.

maybe you could open up a little shop, together. or spend all your days tangled up beneath the blankets, catching up on lost sleep. talking and whispering, like you’d do back at the sleepovers you used to have. you’d make her coffee every morning, and tea every evening. you’d spend the rest of your life trying to make her laugh as loud as possible.

there’s nothing you want more. absolutely nothing. there never will be.

— but you can’t ask her.

you can’t ask her to come with you, no matter how much you want to. that’d be the cruelest thing you could possibly do to her.

she would never agree. you’d only be hurting her more. so selfish, all of these wishes. it was so much simpler back when you were just kids. when you didn’t have to care about duties or responsibilities. when your cognitive empathic abilities were just a little more lacking.

a sigh flows from your lips. resigned, but somewhat hopeful, all the same. tainted with the murmurs of a memory that’ll never happen.

”maybe i’ll open up a bakery, or something.” you tap your fingers against the desk, smiling a little to yourself at the thought. or trying to. ”then you could come visit.”

shoko looks into her cup of coffee. watching the swirling of the vortex, the abyss that gazes back at her. she doesn’t look at you but you can tell she’s listening. then she puts the cup down, and you glance at her now-empty hand.

shoko’s hands have always been pretty. even when they’re covered in grime, or stained with blood. thin, a little bony, smooth skin obscuring clear blue veins. moles litter her hands like stars in the sky; one right beneath her pinkie, another by her wrist. the more you look, the more you find.

tentatively, you broach the distance between you. curling your fingers around her slender ones, where they rest on her lap. linking hands. it’s a slow movement, drawn out and careful, accompanied by the heavy beating of your heart.

(her skin is cold to the touch. your skin buzzes with unease, but you don’t let go.)

then you smile. a small thing, not really optimistic, but the attempt is there. something for her to hold on to. looking deep into her eyes, admiring the hazel glow that never quite left them.

”i’ll give you free pastries.”

a moment passes. shoko’s fingers squeeze around yours — weakly, but it’s there. movement, motion, life. a way of reaching out. a way to hold on.

her eyes continue to trail over the page, but you know she’s not reading any of the contents. you’ve caught her attention. a small victory, but you’ll take what you can get.

”i don’t like sweets,” she reminds you, leaning back a little in her chair. allowing her eyes to flutter shut, at last — and it’s not much but it’s something. a moment of relief for those tired, tired eyes. more tired than any 29 year old’s should be.

”i’ll change your mind,” you promise, mustering up enough will to sound smug. ”my pastries will be out of this world. you’ll get a sweet tooth in no time, sho.”

she exhales a breath, vaguely amused. your smile widens, hopelessly. her happiness was always the root of yours, wasn’t it?

then she looks at you, one eyebrow raised in lazy scepticism. ”can you even bake?”

”nope,” you deadpan. ”but i’ll learn. you’ll see.”

this time, shoko almost chuckles — and it’s more than you’ve gotten out of her in recent memory. god, you missed that sound. a little raspy, from all the cigarettes, but still so honeyed and smooth. hearing it makes you feel as if everything will turn out fine, in the end.

(what a powerful thing, for a voice to do. one so lovely it anchors you to the earth.)

a faux pout curls its way to your lips, and you squeeze her hand lightly. ”don’t laugh, i’m being serious!” your pout shifts into a soft grin, a little teasing. ”i’ll get you addicted to sugar instead of nicotine.”

”haha…”

shoko laughs. shoko laughs and it’s beautiful.

shoko laughs, a genuine laugh, and it’s so beautiful that you almost don’t notice the tears in her eyes. almost.

and then you realize your mistake.

a memory comes to you, then. you recall a hushed conversation, beneath a cloudy summer sky. the air was heavy with the scent of lilacs and cigarette smoke. two people were beside you, and all you cared about was listening to the tilt of their voices. that, and nothing more. a time before everything and everyone went south.

(”you know, shoko. you really should drop those death sticks of yours.”

”i don’t want to hear that from the guy who needs 40 grams of pure sugar every day just to function.”

”rude! and as far as addictions go, sugar is a cut above nicotine, don’t ya think?”

”whatever. just worry about yourself, gojo.”)

by the time you realize, it’s already far too late. the tears have already begun to fall. little droplets of grief, sticking to her skin.

they trickle down the contours of shoko’s face, and fall onto the paper in her hand, smudging the letters. she clutches it tightly, crinkling it, just to make the damage worse. her other hand is still holding yours, chipped nails digging into your skin gently.

but she keeps laughing. low, hazy laughter — pained. she sounds like she’s in pain, and that’s because she is. even if no one ever cares to mention it.

(how cruel, for her to be born with the reverse cursed technique. capable of healing any physical wound; leaving her with too many mental ones to count. never to be healed or acknowledged, in this life or the next.)

you can only stare. helpless to her sadness. her eyes are a little red, and she’s biting down on her lip hard enough to draw blood — a drop of scarlet falls onto the paper, and you think of gojo again.

you think of shoko finding him. running to his side. doing all she could to heal him, to patch him up — getting blood all over her hands and clothes. red everywhere, staining the pure white of the snowfall. like something out of a painting.

she did all that she could. pressing down on his chest, positive cursed energy pouring out from her fingertips in tandem with the snow. pressing two shaky fingers to his pulse point, just in case. just to find any sign of life, absolutely anything. hoping so tenderly that she’d feel the flutter of his pulse. that he’d get up, and laugh obnoxiously, and ask her if she really thought he’d leave her behind so easily.

you’d never seen her look so scared. so desperate, a primal kind of fear you’ve learned to associate with self-driven survival. the way some animals can claw their way out of a predator’s stomach if they’re swallowed whole. but she did that to save him. trying to claw him out, herself. from the belly of the beast.

she did all that she could.

but gojo didn’t do anything. he just laid there, split in two. frozen in time, eternally young. watching the sky. smiling.

(what a wonderful way to die. what an awful thing for an old friend to find.)

before your mind can catch up, your body acts. muscle memory, in the way your arms curl around her midriff to bring her close. tucking her into your side while she sniffles and cries. still laughing, like she’s still trying to convince you that she’s fine. like she’s isn’t falling apart at the seams.

the dam breaks. the ice shatters. everything comes crashing down — and you’re there to pick up the pieces. despite everything.

it’s not enough, it never will be. but at least it’s something.

it’s heart-wrenching, the way she clings to you. like you’re the only thing she has. the dry laughter that spills from her throat devolves into sobbing, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath, nails clinging to the fabric of your clothing like she’s trying to anchor herself. broken sniffles fill the space between you as she hides away, in the crook of your neck.

(the sound makes you feel like someone drove a knife from your sternum down to your stomach.)

all you can do is hold her. quietly, delicately. as if she could break if you squeeze her too hard. as if she’d shatter like a sheet of glass if you were to say the wrong thing again.

you hold shoko like she’s fragile. because she is, regardless of what anyone else says. because she’s a human being, and she’s grieving, and she needs this.

eventually, she musters up the will to speak — and it’s awful, raspy, broken syllables she has to force out of her throat.

she chokes on the words like they’re poisonous. like she’s been carrying them around for decades, bubbling beneath the surface, waiting to be let out.

“don’t — don’t end up here,” shoko pleads, voice wavering through the syllables. full of fear. “please.”

you know what she means. she doesn’t have to say it, because you know.

don’t end up in my morgue. don’t end up on my autopsy table.

shoko sounds meek. she sounds close to falling apart. you’ve never seen her like this before, clutching onto your sleeves as if begging you to stay.

“you’re — you’re the only one i…”

she doesn’t finish, cut off by a broken sniffle. but she doesn’t need to.

you’re the only one i have left. i can’t lose you, too.

please don’t die. please don’t leave me behind.

a shaky inhale. your arms tighten around her waist, tugging her closer. praying that she’ll feel the steady beating of your heart, the undeniable proof that you’re alive. that you haven’t left her yet.

you blink away the tears in your eyes, grasping for control over your wavering voice.

“i won’t.”

and maybe it’s cruel, maybe it’s the cruelest thing you could do to her — making a promise you know you might not be able to keep. but you do so anyway. helpless to her sadness. at the complete mercy of her grief. you’d do anything to stop the tears from falling, to soothe the turmoil in her chest.

“i won’t let you be alone, shoko,” you murmur into her hair, with all the comfort you can possibly muster. ”not now, or ever.”

three words yearn to be spoken, resting on the tip of your tongue. three little syllables, desperate to be heard after living in the back of your throat for so many years.

and for a second, you think you might say it.

you think you might say it, breathe life into the statement. you can almost taste it, can almost hear it. can almost see what her expression would look like.

but shoko sniffles, and hugs you tighter. protective, like you’ll leave if she doesn’t. so tightly that it hurts a little.

and you swallow the words, once more.

right now, this is enough. it’s enough that you’re alive, that you’re here. that’s what shoko needs, right now.

she doesn’t need your love. she just needs you to stay alive.

so you will. you decide that you will, no matter what. you’ll leave, and you’ll open up a shitty bakery that won’t get any customers — and you’ll give her free pastries for the rest of your life. you’ll get her so addicted to sweets that she’ll have no choice but to come back for more.

shoko cries like a child. filling the silence of the morgue with her shaky breaths and quiet sniffles, little hiccups and whimpers. the tears never seem to stop, and you wonder how long it’s been since she last let them fall.

you hold her in your arms, smoothing a palm down her back, counting the bumps of vertebra — and don’t say anything. there’s no need to.

for now, the soft patter of your heartbeat is enough.

ijichi stands just outside the morgue, unmoving. not saying a thing.

it’s muffled, hushed and quiet, but still audible. the sound of childlike crying. the kind all sorcerers do their best to keep to themselves.

in his arms lie a bundle of papers. the final pages of gojo’s autopsy report. it’s important that shoko sees them — vital, according to her. something about the six eyes, the possibilities they hold. the hope that maybe, just maybe…

— he clutches them tightly, and then walks away.

#the wlw urge to leave everything behind and start a bakery together……#idk how to feel abt this i just!! needed to get some shoko thoughts out!!! she’s my fave jjk girl and i love the way her grief is portrayed #i just hope gege does her justice but i have a good feeling that he will!! if not its on sight #she’s so special to me. the airport scene hurts sm because she really is all alone now :(( its so fucked up i SOBBED into my pillow #well i mean. she still has ijichi. and i love him dont get me wrong but like. STILL #im delusional tho so i think next chapter shoko will use her rct to heal gojo #and then we’ll get a scene of him leaving the airport with shoko. trust me gege and i are like this🤞#sorry for basing all my titles on siken poems. anyway go read ’i had a dream about you’ its so shoko #shoko ieiri #shoko ieiri x reader #shoko ieiri x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk spoilers #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jjk 236 #jujutsu kaisen 236 #…. i think. thats all the tags…….

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laugtherhyena · 3 months

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In a dra/sdra2 zombie apocalypse au, who dies/gets infected first, who was the one who spread it all, and who are the modt lilely to survive? (All on your opibion)

Well someone has been watching those infection Aus going around huh? I've been having a blast watching those but pulling the strings on who does what is a litte harder.

First off, here's how I'm going with the virus:

-Infection spreads only through bites, afterwards there are 4 stages the person goes through in the zombification.

-Stage 1: Starting stage after the person is bitten, they're still acting fine since the infection is just starting to settle in and hasn't started spreading much further from where the bite is. it's the only stage in which amputation can stop the virus from spreading, tho this needs to be done as quickly as possible after the bite.

-Stage 2: Virus is already running through the person's blood system and become very tired as their muscles begin to ache, they develop eyebags under their eyes and their skin starts becoming pale with a slightly greenish hue. This is the first stage in with the infected can spread the virus to another person, it's also where they start feeling hungrier than usual.

-Stage 3: The hunger is starting to become unbearable as the person's body begins rejecting most types of food, they can't sleep and now their skin has gotten greener with an itchy sensation all over. This is where the person's sanity really goes downhill and the decay of the body begins, all the scratching leaves open wounds that only get worse as the infection progresses.

-Stage 4: Final stage, by now the persons mind is completely gone and they're just mindlessly wandering around and trying to eat people to quench their hunger. They're the most aggressive in this stage, however it doesn't take much longer until the decay makes their bodies fall appart completely and the zombie dies of "natural causes" per say.

Anyways, this got really long so I'm putting it under the cut. Taking their chronological ages for this btw (Aka: Dra cast being younger than most of the Sdra2 people)

-Utsuro and Akane:

Utsuro was the patient zero of the infection, spreading the zombie virus as a way to throw the world in despair while remaining fine as his devine luck made him asymptomatic. Roaming around the desolately city watching the chaos unfold, always accompanied by his loyal servant; Akane Taira, who is by now a stage 3 zombie whose devine luck slows down the spread of her infection significantly and leads to her retaining most of her sanity.

She strives to be the perfect servant for her master, carrying out his orders and acting as a "bodyguard" of sorts. Sometimes she wonders if her former classmates manages to escape safely, other times she wishes to see them as decaying zombies.

-Since I'm talking about the luck people here's Nikei, Hajime, Emma and Iroha:

Their devine luck is steadily running out, looking for Utsuro is no longer an option with all these zombies around. The voids stick together in hopes that the remainder of their luck acts in unison and gives them a better shot at surviving this mess.

As their leader, Nikkei is always trying to think of safer ways to traverse the city and places for them to get supplies or steal steal from other survivor. He's stressed pretty much all of the time but tries to control his emotions to not end up lashing out at his friends, he doesn't always succeed. Hajime is the closest they have to a doctor due to his knowledge in health while Emma tries to get keep the group's morale so that they don't all go insane, not an easy task when her own sanity is starting to go down the drain.

They lost Iroha pretty early on, she was very scared, jumpy and paranoid, which led to her lashing out at Nikkei and the others out of frustration (sorta like she does in the void theater segment) then storming off where she was attacked and killed by a hoard of zombies. The remaining 3 voids swear to stick together and survive no matter what.

-Mikado and Kokoro:

Mikado was getting in contact with Kokoro for his future plans and when the zombie outbreak happened, he stayed by her side since they were pretty much stuck inside her laboratory for a while because of all the zombies outside.

Kokoro is scary smart, however, curiosity surely gets the best out of her. So she wants to study the zombies to see how they function, how the infection spreads and affects the body, maybe even try to find a cure in the way. She has chemical components, protective suits and a lot of things to keep herself safe, and since Mikado is stuck with her she makes him work for her so she shares these supplies with him.

So for a while all he had to do was lure zombies into this designated containment area and collect samples from them for Kokoro to study, while also bringing some dead ones in too from time to time so she can dissect and study them as well. But nothing good lasts forever, Mikado was bitten by a zombie he thought had died while collecting a blood sample, Kokoro takes this as an opportunity to start testing possible cures on him.

She was able to develop a solution that keeps his infection from spreading beyond stage 2 (the one Mikado had reached by the time she first tested this solution on him), but there's been no progress on one capable of reversing the effects of the virus so far. Probably because Kokoro's lab is starting to lack a few things by now, not that this will stop her from continuing her research tho, if someone's gonna find a cure it's probably her.

Anyways, back to the Dra cast. This whole apocalypse starts in a similar way to how the cast gets captured in canon, Kisaragi brings them to the foundation's place without knowing Utsuro and Akane (who is at early stage 2 now) are the causes of this mess. The two of them let a bunch of zombies in and reveal themselves as despairs, at this point the class ends up getting divided as they lose track of where the others are.

-Group 1; Yamato, Mikako, Teruya, Satsuki, Haruhiko: It was a hard decision but seing as zombies were everywhere around the facility, they couldn't risk staying for very long to try finding the others. Yamato directed the people with him alongside several other foundation members that hadn't gotten bit towards some helicopters where they left the island and headed towards a secret underground facility/bunker.

So they're safe, but obviously worried about the others. Yamato manages to contact Tsurugi via some kind of communication device early on and hearing that he's got a lot of their clasmates still with him makes them all a little relieved, Yamato sends the coordinates of the bunker to him so that Tsurugi can bring him and the others there safely, he also tent to talk him whenever he has the time to make sure everything is going well and even send supplies to their location when needed.

Because i imagine Yamato would absolutely be overworked on this, trying to keep the people at the bunker safe and sane while getting news from their friends still outside while ALSO trying to find a cure himself. Which is a lot harder to when he is very unwilling to bring infected into the bunker to make tests as in depth as Kokoro is doing. His are done by shooting zombies around the area on the surface with a dart that has one of his solutions and a microchip onto it, he keeps track on these zombies to see if it does anything. Not very precise, but the safety of the people in the facility is more important to him than that.

Mikako also helps with it from time to time but most of what she does is keep check of the people in the bunker and make sure they're ok, while also being in charge of checking and disinfecting anyone that's gonna enter the facility and coordinating ocasional missions to go outside and gather more suplies. Where are these supplies coming from? Otori mart of course! Hence why Teruya also helps with these missions by telling them which stores will have certain itens and where to find them.

As for Satsuki and Haru, I don't think they're doing much, sorta just trying to settle in the facility and reassuring the other people there that they're safe down there. I like to think Satsuki maybe pulls up some performances to boost morale of the people at the facility and make them smile even if just a little.

After getting separated from Yamato and the others, Tsurugi took the lead in guiding his classmates to safety after deciding that they should head down and try to leave the island via boat, but things don't go so smoothly as the group is followed by a hoard of zombies. Kakeru, Mitch and Kinji stay behind to hold back the zombies while the others reach the boat, Maki wanted to stay behind with them as well but Higa insisted that she should go with the others to protect them.

-Group 2; Tsurugi, Kiyoka, Ayame, Kanata, Kizuna:

The remaining members of class 79 stick together as they traverse through the city, making contact with Yamato via Kinjo's two way radio and getting the coordinates for their location. Tsurugi effectively becomes the leader of the group, though his weird morals tend to make him pretty cold and rather unsympathetic during the apocalypse, prioritizing their survival above all else while being somewhat paranoid about the infection and possible traitors like Utsuro and Akane.

Back in the foundation's island Ayame had gotten bit by Taira while in denial that she could have helped cause this, she tried to get Akane to "snap out of it" and return to her senses, but it didn't work out. Seeing as Ayame had gotten infected Tsurugi wanted to put her down to avoid more casualties, which was not taken well by pretty much everyone else in their group, except for Rei who begrudgingly took his side she figured keeping Ayame with them would be risky.

Thankfully, Kanata stepped in and begged to be allowed to try doing something to help Ayame and if there was nothing she could do to save her she would let him go ahead and kill her. They headed towards an abandoned hospital where Kanata performed mant tests on Ayame and ultimately decided to amputate her armnin an attempt to stop tye infection from spreading. She monitored her closely for tge next few days and was overjoyed when she didn't show any signs of infection afterwards.

Because Kizuna is not doing well either, a few weeks into the apocalypse she became absolutely terrified of zombies and the virus which led to her becoming extremely paranoid and scared that she could get it and turn into one. She was never bit, but her anxiety and paranoia makes her afraid that maybe she has gotten it somehow, she constantly asks Kanata to do check-ups on her and asks if what she's feeling is normal or if she's turning into a zombie.

Ayame is.. not doing very well. Her mental health has gotten pretty bad after learning the truth about Akane, she blames herself for not having been able to "see her true colors" despite being so close to her and is generally really hurt over her betrayal of them since she had feelings for her.

Currently she doesn't talk much, doesn't eat much and doesn't do much, which bothers Kinjo since she could have been very helpful due to her talent if she had the strength to be a more active member of their group. Kanata tries to help her mental health improve even if that's beyond her field of knowledge, she's essential always near her and Kizuna to keep an eye on them and reasure them that they're gonna make it to the bunker.

She pretty much doesn't sleep anymore, something Kinjo uses to the group's advantage and tends to leave her in charge of looking over them while they sleep for the night, if she sees or hear anything strange she can wake him up and he'll know what to do from here on out.

With Kanata being their only medical professional and Ayame and Kizuna not being in the best state of mind, Kinjo and Kiyoka are the ones who do most of the work for the group. They scout areas they're about to head towards next (since their goal is to reach the foundation's underground facility, they're always on the move) to see if their safe and look for suplies and food. Maki is essentially his right hand woman and voice of reason a lot of the time, she also taught the other girls how to fire a gun, just in case whatever base they are currently staying in gets attacked while the her and Kinjo are out.

-Kakeru, Higa and Kinji:

While Kakeru and Mitch were killed by zombies back in the Kisaragi foundation's island, Kinji managed to free himself and reach the roadway, unfortunately he was infected in the process. Knowing that he would eventually lose his mind to tye virus, he decided to not go after the others from his class and instead dedicates the time he has left to giving a proper burial to the dead people and zombies he finds on the streets, praying that their souls are able to rest in peace.

Kinji's infection has reached mid stage 3, his memories are starting to become foggy, keeping his sanity while resisting the hunger is becoming harder and harder.

-Rei:

She stayed with Tsurugi's group for quite some time but eventually left after a huge argument with him and generally being fed up with having to deal with them. Having the coordinates to the foundation's bunker written down in a notepad, she decided to find it on her own, believing she could get there way faster without having to wait for a bunch of other people.

She was certain that her intelligence and problem solving abilities would be enough to get by, however, in these situations safety is in numbers. Rei had a close call in the city when she stumbled upon zombified versions if her parents, unable to bring herself to shoot them, she was attacked but luckily a group of survivors came to help her before the worst happened.

She stayed with them for the night, having her minor injuries treated by the father of one of her classmates. While she was offered a place in the group by their leader, Rei refused, adamantly sticking to her goal of making it to the bunker on her own.

She made it out of the city, but is starting to run out of supplies and ammo.

-Setsuka and her crew: Working as a detective for a good while before the apocalypse and having the devil's eye to help her, Setsuka is a master of stealth and doesn't have a hard time at all avoiding zombies by traversing through some safer routes. She set up a base in an abandoned warehouse and overtime managed to rescue a handful of people, these being Ryutaro, Midori, Keisuke, Minako and Yoruko.

Things were going as smoothly as they could be for a while until zombies broke into the warehouse and the crew had to leave in a hurry, Minako was killed in the process and Yoruko was bitten in the ankle, something she only took notice of late at night. When the others woke up the next day, she was nowhere to be found. Ironically, it was while the group looked for her that they met Hikaru, who could possibly have saved her from the infection the same way Kanata did to Ayame.

On a good note, now that they have a medical professional, Hikaru can take care of Midori and tell them what kind of medicine they should look for in this situation, the two of them tend to stay at their new base most of the time (set on the roof of a tall building, stairs barricade to prevent zombies from getting up. The group climbs down usinga rope whenever they need to leave) while Setsuka and the boys go around to gather food and suplies.

It was in one of these small missions that they met Rei and agreed to give her some of their food and a place to stay for the night in exchange for medical supplies. While she was asleep, Setsuka rummaged through her backpack and found the notepad with the coordinates for the underground facility. She used the devil's eye to record it and now there is a new group heading towards the bunker.

-Kanade and Hibiki:

Hibiki panicked and ententered her puppet stage early on into the apocalypse, Kanade found that delightful, now she has her sister all for herself and no facades to keep on at all since the world has gone to shit. Her focus is not on surviving or making to a safe shelter, she's just having a blast brutally murdering zombies all over the place and people too whenever she sees that they have something she wants or simply managed to get on her nerves.

Zombie or human, Kanade likes to sign her work, other survivor have learned to recognize corpses killed by her not only for the guresome ways in which they were left for display, but also for a music note symbol carved in their foreheads. Every once in a while she will be sent to eliminate people or specific trade groups that Syobai considers a threath to his business, in exchange, he allows her to take any weapons he wants from his stock and stay in his shelter if she desires.

The person Kanade talks with the most is Hibiki, which is more like talking to herself by now since she remains unemotional and unresponsive to anything but direct orders from her.. Or is she..?

Either ways, if one hears singing around the bloody city streets, it's better to run away immediately.

-Shinji and Yuki:

Shinji was on a business trip outside the city when the apocalypse started, he was attacked and his car was destroyed by zombies when he tried to come back there when the outbreak was in its peak. In the outskirts, he stumbled upon the place Akane and Utsuro had locked the real Yuki in. Took a while but he eventually managed to free him, the boy was scared and confused, it took a few days Shinji to explain things to him and for the reality of the situation to settle in his mind.

Although scared Yuki is determined to reunite with his mother, just how Shinji wants to find his wife and daughters. Together the two of them are making their way back to the city, with Shinji promising himself he'll do anything to protect the young boy, who is like a son to him by now.

-Syobai:

Being a broker during the apocalypse sure has its advantages! Since money is pretty much worthless now, Syobai makes a living by trading goods (weapons, clothes, medicine, shelter, drugs, whatever you want, he probably has it) by things of his interest, be it food, other suplies, information or even services from people. Though a handfuls survivors tend to avoid doing business with him, aware of the dangers that come with the deal.

Most of his goods were taken from other traffickers/criminal organizations after they were attacked and killed by zombies, so Syobai has a lot in hands to trade and lots of contacts he made during this mess to keep him up to date on the situation, always gotta be one step ahead of the curve you know.

-Yuri: Stage 2 infected, he achived his dream of sacrificing himself to save a woman!.. Now what? His health is deteriorating fast.

#i didn't add Sora because unfortunately I don't think she would exist in this :(#anyways #thank you for this ask! i had a lot of fun brainstorming stuff #please ask more if you feel like it :) I'd love to think of some more stuff if people would like to hear it #dra #danganronpa another #sdra2 #super danganronpa another 2 #infection au #sorta?#zombie au #hyena ramblings #tw needle #tw needles #needles

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