#Nurse!Tsumiki fushiguro | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pencilofawesomeness · 2 months

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The JJK x TWST crossover that started living rent free in my head >:'D

Random Doodle Edition

Ahem, so, uhh, turns out the characters of Jujutsu Kaisen fit pretty well as Night Raven College students, temperament-wise, and that was all the excuse I needed. Yes the ages get funky but whatever. Happy high school AU except they still get cool powers and Trauma(tm). Just less than JJK canon so I count it as a win.

I also may or may not have written an entire oneshot (here on AO3) for some freshmen Satoru & Suguru bonding, featuring me still bullying Satoru over his funky eyes.

Image Text (and me rambling more) underneath the cut

Gojo Satoru (of the Jupiter Clan)

Ignihyde Housewarden Year: Junior Species: Sky Dragon (Fae) Club: Movie Analysis Club Unique Magic: Six Eyes—pretty much just like canon Six Eyes. They can see far and wide and out of normal sight, and they can see magic in a highly detailed manner. They are also powered by magic that just, never stops ever, so he can decrease or increase the power/range at will to a degree, but technically, cutting off magic from them altogether will blind him. Also he has an inherited magic that he by no means asked for, which is, sad drumroll, Gate of the Underworld. (There are no shrouds in this AU, just me finding ways to forever make Satoru instrumental to the well-being of the world to his own detriment. I have waaaaay more thoughts about the "Jupiter Clan of dragons" and what that actually entails, but they are still jumbled and shifting, so. Maybe later.)

Geto Suguru (of the Draconia Clan)

Diasomnia Housewarden Year: Junior Species: Night Dragon (Fae) Club: Equestrian Club Unique Magic: Magic-eater—can consume and nullify any spell and gain its base magic. With minimum side effects. Mostly. :)

Satoru and Suguru are their usual brand of special-grade menaces, being the only two adolescent dragon fae in the world, buttttt they still inevitably become besties. With Shoko too, of course, who has no fear and will mess with them as they see fit.

Suguru is essentially Malleus in this AU, though in Suguru-fashion, he's way more stubborn when it comes to trying to catch up. (Translating him being new to sorcery to being new to technology was surprisingly low-hanging fruit.) Meanwhile I borrowed the Jupiter name/legacy because it was fitting and made the Gojo Clan into a long-lived dynasty of antisocial dragons who fist-fight and deal with Phantoms and recently accidentally became a tech empire, which is pretty close to the Sorcerer Family vibe a la TWST, if I say so myself.

There's definitely a lot of backstory I have in mind for the two of them. Neither of them beat teen parenthood (they are currently Malleus-aged, so 178 years old, but that's still teenagehood for a dragon/fae) and acquired children through various means, much to the consternation of their elders/court. I might develop/write more solid ideas later, but Suguru has a reverse characterization moment when he finds two starved/beaten human children (the twins) and begins his journey of losing all intrinsic racism via love, and Satoru still somehow gets his shit wrecked by Toji (probably a heist gone violent or something) and then finds out he had abandoned children: human Tsumiki and half-fae Megumi.

Nobara Orientation Comic:

Nobara: Obviously, I'm going to get ~Pomefiore~ because I'm elegant and graceful. (And a badass queen, of course)

Mirror: The nature of your soul is... Savanaclaw

Nobara, getting dragged away from the Mirror by Maki: HEY WAIT A MINUTE! STOP MESSING WITH ME YOU DIRTY SMUGED HUNK OF JUNK AND I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT I THINK OF—

(Nobara gets her reverse-Epel moment, but she adapts quickly. Especially because she still comes to have mad respect for Maki.)

Ieri Shoko

Ignihyde Vice-Housewarden Year: Junior Species: Merfolk (Nurse Shark) Club: Science Club Unique Magic: Reverse—rewinds a target to its previous state within twenty four hours. The longer within the range, the harder/more magic it will take, especially for larger targets, so realistically her range is less. (For example, if someone cracked a piece of glass 24 hours ago, Shoko could restore it, but a day-old wound on a living being would be much harder.)

Making Shoko a mermaid was a joke to myself at first but then I liked it and it spiraled and now Nurse Shark Shoko is unironically one of my favorite things that I have drawn. The joke was right there too, but it's mostly fun to me because nurse sharks are docile and apathetic creatures, for the large part (they are still sharks lol), and I think match her temperament well.

Also when Satoru pestered the previous housewarden enough times to accidentally gain the title for himself, he made Shoko his vice (mostly because he trusted her) to make sure he never had to do the paperwork and the boring parts. She makes him do it anyway. To the dorm, she is less of a vice and more of a "dragon wrangler," which is still extremely appreciated.

Zen'in Maki

Savanaclaw Housewarden Year: Sophomore Species: Human Club: Track & Field Unique Magic: N/A—Maki doesn't actually have magic of her own, but she is unnaturally resistant to most magic. She can, however, use magic/cast spells through a magic-capable familiar.

She befriended a phoenix when she was younger, having survived an encounter with a wild youth. (idk what I want the details to be but I think it would be cool if she had some related burns to it, with the idea that these creatures are rare and volatile and hard for normal humans to handle without high magic resistance.) His name is Torch because I don't think Maki would put that much thought into a name, so long as its not completely stupid sounding. I almost named the phoenix Jogo but I refrained for my own sanity.

Inumaki Toge

Savanaclaw Year: Sophomore Species: Human Club: Board Game Club Unique Magic: Reality Speak—pretty much just how Cursed Speech works but with a world-friendly name. Also it can apply to inanimate objects as well. The power and scope of the command is proportional to the magic required.

Toge gets an overall nicer time in this AU because he doesn't have cursed speech 24/7 and therefore can speak normally. Though the idea of him being able to affect people/bend reality with his words does freak people out. I imagine he had a rough childhood nonetheless, because why not, leading him to be less verbal than he would have been otherwise.

Okkotsu Yuuta

Diasomnia Year: Sophomore Species: Human Club: Board Game Club Unique Magic: Wraith Pact-maker—he can enhance/bolster a ghost's magic/presence through making a link with himself. It has to be mutual, and it can last for any duration of time, although actively using the link does require magic. The ghost in question gains magic and grounding from Yuuta, and Yuuta can use the ghost's magic, including their UM, if applicable. He can have multiple links, but the first and main recipient of this magic is his childhood friend Rika.

Between her longlasting connection with Yuuta and her brutal death, she is a more wraith-like and powerful ghost. Her unique magic was to copy other people's UMs, which Yuuta can use through her in short bursts.

I didn't have space nor solid ideas for unique magics for the Hasaba twins and the Fushiguros, so I didn't do full bios for them. Later, perhaps. All of the girls are sophomores and Megumi is a freshman. Tsumiki and Nanako are sharing their social brain cell and trading stories of stupid things their dragon dads/older brothers/untitled guardians have done, while Megumi is helping budding-gamer Mimiko learn Pokemon strats. I love the idea of them all being friends, maybe after minimal difficulty in the girls' first year, likely on account of the twins being a little Sebek-shaped, in terms of wanting to be The Best Guards for Suguru, etc etc.

I technically have way more ideas for other characters and other dorms, but, I will end this here, for now. I am trying to reign myself in lmao.

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crescentmoonrider · 4 months

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a peaceful life

happy new year everyone !!

i think yuuta would love takaba's show, so that's what i wanted to draw at first, and then it just expanded haha

yuuji would probably be a fan too, although he likes the strongest duo better. megumi, on the other hand, gives off the vibes of someone who despises manzai. it's hit or miss for toji and nobara, but they don't watch the new year comedy shows for the jokes anyway, they're here for the company

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anqelically · 11 months

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lost memory | megumi fushiguro x gn!reader

word count: 0.7k

content: no manga spoilers, platonic, angst, death... your relationship with gojo is up to you

navi | jjk masterlist

he was young when you took care of him.

a little child who only had his sister left, that’s who megumi fushiguro was when you met him. he was seven years old with quite the attitude. though, the way he treated you was different than how he treated satoru gojo, your partner.

megumi found himself more inclined to stay around you. he wanted your care, and he got it every chance he had. your embrace was one of a nurturing mother’s. he didn’t think of it at first, but megumi yearned for the love that he could see in front of his very eyes.

he didn’t remember his parents, so they were long out of the picture. their faces blurred and blended in with the people he’d seen in the streets. they had left his life, so if someone had to ask the young megumi fushiguro who his parents were, the first person he thought about was you.

you, who picked him and tsumiki up after school. you, who took them out to theme parks with gojo. you, who showed up to every concert and talent show. you, who helped with their homework and projects.

the first person the young megumi fushiguro thought about was you. you, who he soon enough forgot about over the years.

after spending a little over 2 years together, you stopped visiting. no matter how much they cried or begged, gojo never said a word about it. he left the children to you, but that responsibility was passed back to him when you left.

more years passed, and megumi eventually forgot about you. it began with him thinking about you leaving every day to you never crossing his mind.

all the emotions and attachment he had with you dissipated into nothing. you became a faint memory, just like his other parents. you, who was the embrace he needed in the middle of the night, were gone.

so when he saw you again at 15 years old, all that he could exchange with you were words of small talk. you spoke to him softly with care, just as you always did, but megumi found himself only able to reply shortly.

not only did he feel awkward, but megumi pitied you. he pitied you for still caring when all he saw you as was a mere acquaintance of his past. you smiled at him, yet the pain carried by your eyes drew his attention.

the conflict in his mind only increased when he eventually heard of your passing.

you were in gojo’s class during your teen years at jujutsu high, becoming one of the closest people he was with. though, you were always sick. sometimes too sick to do missions, or too sick to even get up in the morning. it was only a matter of time until your illness got to you.

it’s why you visited him after so long, megumi figured. you knew your time was running up, so you wanted to at least see him once more. you also visited tsumiki in her hospital bed, according to gojo. but not only that, gojo always kept you updated behind their backs.

now, standing in front of your grave, megumi didn’t know what to do. it was sad, indeed, but he didn’t feel a connection to you like he did once before. you became a lost memory to megumi, even if he was a reason for you to keep fighting.

you had hoped that you’d overcome your sickness, but it had claimed your life in the end.

even if the two of you only spent 2 years together, and you were barely an adult, megumi was one of your children. no matter what anyone thought or said, that’s who he was to you.

megumi knew that, and that is what was at the root of his internal conflict. you were family when he needed you to be, yet he couldn’t even spare you a tear in your passing. the boy thought he pitied you, but he comes to realize the one he truly pities is himself.

he, who forgot that you took care of him when he was sick, and nursed him to health. he, who forgot that you always cheered him on during school events. he, who forgot that you read him stories to fall asleep to.

and even though he didn’t remember most of those things, remember you, megumi stood alone in front of your grave, tears silently flowing out of his eyes.

note: self indulgent but oh well...

reblogs are appreciated + join my taglist !

@nagicore @enomane @spenzitz @chuuyrr @ma3mae @piichuu @userwithlotsoftime

#୨୧ [ writing ]#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk angst

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ay0nha · 3 months

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When shall we meet again in thunder, lightning, or rain? | S.G. (ii)

prologue, part i

SUMMARY: “And here I thought, I was the only one that did.” He returned to his baseline: toeing the line between mocking and playful. "Don't you get tired of being alone? Or are you too good for that?"

PAIRING: Satoru Gojo x Fushiguro!reader (Megumi's aunt/Toji's sister)

WORD COUNT: 2.1K~

WARNINGS: slight enemies to lovers, a bit of a mean!gojo, ANGST HEAVY, Tsumiki in her coma, angsty convos and feelings, slight TOUCH STARVED gojo, panic attack descriptions, canon-typical things, rushed ending, etc.

A/N: This took longer than I thought, but I want to take my time and really put effort into this one, so I hope you all enjoy. BIG shout out to @hatsunemitskislobotomy this wouldn't have happened without your help. Much love. Again, based on/inspired by @stsgooo's post (here!). Let me know if you'd like to be tagged for future parts.

COMMENTS ENCOURAGED. !!! PLEASE !!!

TAGS: @96jnie, @stevenknightmarc

“Miss Fushiguro?”

“Yes?” You missed the first call of your name but stood the moment you heard it again. “That’s me.”

The friction of the chair against the linoleum scratched at your spine. The noise only brought attention, adding to the clashing of sounds around you: infants crying, uncovered coughs, and monotonous voices over the intercom drowned out by the emergency room chatter.

The blood that had rushed to your head created a beautiful constellation for you to follow. It led you down the narrow hallway to a room reserved for your five-minute slot. The turnover was quick; wounds, infections, and sickness organized the people.

You were still figuring out where you fit in this categorization. Months of the same routine dulled your senses.

“Seems she’s still doing well…” The nurse’s tired eyes scanned the scantily filled-out paperwork, just as they always had. She led you deeper into the maze of beeping monitors and desperate complaints. “The doctor will be in soon to see you.”

The nurse that had brought you back looked at you with tired eyes. It was as if she went to say something but deflated once she lost the energy to you—the transfer only agitated you further.

The room was sterile, its stark smell overwhelming your senses. Yet, the stillness was baneful.

Tsumki looked cold layered under the hospital blankets. The cheap fabric was without wrinkles, perfectly tucked around her body. Tendrils of hair swirled around her head like a misplaced crown. If it weren’t for the soft hum of machines tracking her vitals, you’d mistake her motionless state for rigor mortis.

Even when the doctor came to update you on Tsumiki’s catatonic state, your mind failed to make sense of it all. She was so far removed from the world you were excluded from, and yet, she was touched so violently by it.

It’s not fair, you thought. Your eyes were devoid and steadily ahead, fixated on the rise and fall of her chest. It’s not fair.

Selfish. Your own voice echoed in your mind, scolding you for the thoughts that came forth.

Even if you said it aloud—your desire to trade places—it would seem altruistic, a sacrifice for the bigger picture. It would hide the envy in your heart. You wanted to be relieved from the world so completely, so idly, that you could finally have a moment to catch your breath.

Now, your breath was filled with guilt and stuck. Your control was tight, trying not to crack.

Everything pierced you; Megumi’s clothes fought against his growth, the school begged you to intervene with his attitude, and the pressure on his shoulders weighed him

of his abilities seep into everything he touched.

It didn’t matter if you couldn’t keep up. You weren’t allowed to crumble. If you did, everything would be taken from you before you could let out your breath. You didn’t know life without that tight inhale.

It was all you knew.

You were afraid of anything different, but you would never fully realize that. Nor would you accept that it was stillness that you sought, not of Tsumiki’s body, but her mind. Only in this quiet did her brain, once wild and still forming during waking hours, cool itself into something calm.

“Chin up.” A familiar voice called with inappropriate joy. Gojo entered with a confidence that ignored the dense air of malaise.

You dismissed the instruction, not caring that his appearance was so sudden. You’d grown accustomed to your time never truly belonging to you.

“Doctor said she’s doing great. Brain activity and all of that.” He waved vaguely, his other hand permanently calm and tucked away in his pocket. “You, though—” He tutted, head tilting with childish mockery “—rumor going ’round you live here...”

You weren’t blind to the way the nurses looked at you. They believed you resembled a fraying string, each visit splintering you further. However, they had the decency to look past the fact, unlike the man dwelling in your shadow.

“...better off getting a job…” Gojo continued, knowingly filling the silence. His finger glided along the windowsill, in search of non-existent dust. Every twitch was subtle arrogance.

He had yet to see how your breath was tight, consuming most of your senses. You sunk your nails into your palm, holding onto what was left of your dignity. Grief was reserved for those who deserved it.

You breathed with stale disappointment. “Leave, Gojo.”

Since Tsumiki’s curse, you'd have limited conversation with him. It was a reminder of the anger you held at the broken promise he’d made to keep you all safe. You were naive to believe even the strongest there was could be capable of that.

Tsumiki was your world. Blood never mattered as she was as much yours and you were hers. She endured it all with a smile that you struggled to match, you could never make it reach your eyes the way she had.

He knew this.

Yet, it was like you were only partly there, a piece of your mind eons and eons away, somewhere in a place that let you justify your loneliness.

It oozed from every pore of you, always. You’d been soaking in it for years, unknowingly most of the time, too preoccupied with ignoring your own humanity and trying to convince everyone else around you that you were anything but that.

“I’ve been told to give consideration to my audience…” Gojo scratched at his cheek with jaded thought. His patience was flippant and the advice was taken at half-value from Nanami. “...you make that so hard to do when you pretend I don’t care—

Your laugh was shallow, his so-called wisdom meaningless to you. “Caring never suited you, so don’t hurt yourself trying.”

“Like you?” Gojo frowned, sanitizing the situation. Your pain was tangible. “No one could have known this would happen, but avoiding us won’t change that.”

“Us?” Another laugh. It was always we and us when it was for his advantage. The idea stung; that every interaction the two of you had led into disarray. “Megumi has nothing—

“Megumi—” Gojo shifted, tentative with his interruption. It was inevitable for the exchange to turn sour, he invited it in the moment he found you. He hoped it wouldn’t have plummeted so quickly. “He’s worried about you.”

You could have denied it, blaming his fear on his age, but Megumi was far from naive. You could have lied, let words tumble past your lips until your answer was deemed sufficient. However, the truth surfaced with stark malice.

“He’ll learn to live without me.” Just as you would. It was inevitable. It was fate; determined the moment his father died only secured when Gojo supported Megumi’s talent.

It was only then you realized the lack of barrier between you and Gojo. All six eyes were trapping you, desperately searching for any affection lingering from the past.

There was a time when you let him in. When trust was implied, Gojo’s dedication was clear in how he carried Megumi on his shoulders and always reached out for Tsumiki’s hand. His teasing dared you to match him, to look forward to his company in a way that was reserved only for him.

Your hesitancy was a feat to grow past, but Gojo planted himself so firmly you stopped caring. It worked slowly, seeping into everyday life only to cease entirely the moment Tsumiki found the bridge.

Gojo’s world hadn’t stopped like yours. Its velocity was unbeatable while the quicksand pulled you under. If he had seen you were a creature of grief and dust and bitter longings, maybe things would have turned out a little differently. Maybe there wouldn’t be an empty place within you where your heart once was.

“I’m—” Gojo whispered, eyes unrelenting in luring something out. He stopped himself to wet his lips, a poor stalling tactic.“Ever since—” He paused. “What can I say for you to let me…”

The soft clattering of the hospital finished his question, answering for you as well.

You weren’t sure there were any words that could comfort you. Looking at Tsumiki again, you pulled a shaky breath through your nose. She was stable, Gojo firm on proper care. There would be a day when this was the past and Gojo was willing to guide you there.

“Gojo, really—everything is… visiting hours are going to be over soon” You suppressed the quiver in your voice. “I’ll be okay,” you said. “I’m just having a d–a week.” A month, a year, a life.

Reluctantly, you met his gaze. The heavy fatigue won. Your resistance had faded almost entirely. It was how Gojo knew you were lying.

“I’ve talked to Yaga.” The conversation he’d been skirting around finally surfaced, it was the reason he needed to talk to you. “There’s plenty of space for you to join us.”

“I’m not like you.” Your admission was breathless. “That place isn’t fun for people like me, Gojo.”

You hated the way Gojo posture straightened barely, protectively. It encouraged your frown.

“They won’t touch you—”

“You think this is about the Zenins?” You had never meant to become the villain. You just didn't know what else to do. “You don’t get it do you?”

Your curiosity bore a dark meaning, filling the cracks between you with a sticky tar that effortlessly glided off his ego but against yours, you couldn’t quite scrub away.

“And here I thought, I was the only one that did.” He returned to his baseline: toeing the line between mocking and playful. "Don't you get tired of being alone? Or are you too good for that?"

Gojo held your glare with softness. Its intent wasn’t to make you squirm, but it had. You wanted to fight, a reason to retaliate. But he knew you well, understood you still, and knew what it meant to distance yourself with well-earned vexation.

“Let sleeping dogs lie.” You bit back carefully, a baseless threat as your waterline threatened tears.

You knew it was important to remain as blase as possible so you didn’t cry. Although, you didn’t really cry anymore. Even when you wanted to, the tears never came. At some point, you must’ve reached your lifetime limit.

The silence was pregnant: her contractions and your combined breathing intensify and climb and climb and climb, the pains threatening to tear her apart and birth something truly horrendous out into this world.

It would be an abomination, you realized.

The heat began to spread through your body, it felt like the walls were closing in, like you were going to explode. You began to stare off into space, as though you were distancing yourself from reality, your body tense, gearing for a fight.

Gojo stared, dumbfounded, into your glassy eyes until you broke the spell by speaking, voice nothing but a broken rasp. “I can’t breathe, Satoru…”

You squeezed your eyes shut, bit your tongue. All you could hear was the screeching sound of the machines filling your ears, and the hospital corridor beyond you was now a blur.

Your knees wobbled, and Gojo caught you tightly, taking on your weight.

A soft breath left him, arms precariously placed out of defensiveness around your figure. His body knew before him to release his technique. He can't remember the last time somebody touched him who wasn't you, not for years now. It's an amicable casualness he can't explain away.

“I can never breathe.” Your heart felt permanently caught in your throat.You just shook his head, tired and defeated. The words have lived inside you for a while. “I just can’t do it anymore—my body—”

Hyper vigilance became the enemy that threatened to consume you whole. Sleep was no longer negotiable. Every movement dragged worry, invited agitation, and controlled your sabotage.

“Easy. Easy…” Gojo’s skin pricked as if you’d shocked him. It was like his senses had become heightened to how closely you were now leaning into him.

The skin of your chest tingled. You felt paralyzed. Yet, Gojo’s touch slithered around you, kneading out every hitch. You looked more sorry than you should, believing that you're a burden on him when you aren’t—you're a lightness he’s missed.

“The world is too big…” Gojo continued with a low note in his voice that made you wonder just how much he understood you. “It’s so large, no breath feels quite deep enough.”

Just like always, he seemed to read what you didn't say.

You swallow heavily, your nose kissing his shoulder. It was so soft, feather-light pressure but it surged through your body all the same. Pain came and faded. No blood rushing in your ears, no beating heart. You’re too tired, in every sense of the word, to ask for what you wanted.

You stay wrapped in his arms for a long time. Long enough to think about how you might never get to do this again, and you suddenly want him in all the ways you never had him, and all the ways you had.

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that-bi-bitch-writes · 11 months

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Paid in Kind

Pairing: Yuuji Itadori x Male Reader

Word Count: 2,053

Warnings: Infidelity, Swearing, Murder, Mentions of suicide. Angst, Major Character Death

Requested by: No one i just missed writing oneshots

Storyline: Yuuji and the reader love each other until death do them part

A/N: I’m bad at angst but I’ve been wanting to write some for years. Nearly a year ago I asked @dont-minchin-it who their favorite jjk character was and they said megumi and mine is yuuji so I wrote this. I didn’t finish it until just now.

[Name] [L.Name] considered himself to be lucky.

When he was a child and the monsters would come out from underneath his bed, he’d close his eyes and grab onto his blanket tightly chanting ‘please go away’. When he’d open his eyes, they’d be gone.

When he’d ask his mom for ice cream before dinner, it’d only take a little bit of prodding for her to cave in. After he failed his first test he’d begged his teacher for an extra credit assignment only to end the semester with an A. He got free lunches when he forgot his, and people would get him a drink from vending machines because they just happened to get an extra one.

When he was 14 he met Megumi Fushiguro. Fuck that guy.

Megumi was one year his junior and an unlikely bully to many, when he first saw [Name] talking to Tsumiki, he made a mental note to check [Name] out and kick his ass.

Megumi learned that [Name] was a normal kid with normal parents and a pretty normal routine. He went to school, he hung out with friends on most days and four days out of the week he took taekwondo classes. Okay maybe Megumi couldn’t quite kick his ass.

“Tsumiki. Who’s that kid you keep talking to at lunch?”

“Care to be more specific?”

“The annoying one who’s oddly lucky. He hangs around those nerds who bring him soda and he gets free lunches sometimes. Is he bothering you?”

“[Name]? No, he's really nice. And he doesn’t make his friends bring him things, he just asks them to get him one if they happen to get an extra. I think sometimes they use their own money to buy them and tell him they hit the jackpot. They call him their own good luck charm”

“Ooh Tsumiki knows him by first name.” Gojo interrupted. He ceremoniously sat closer to the two who were eating dinner. “Tell me more about this [Name] Megumi”

Megumi rolled his eyes but continued “Like I said he’s oddly lucky. I thought he was pulling some strings at first because I couldn't understand why everyone’s always breaking their necks for him but Tsumiki says he just asks. That’s what everyone else says too. He asks nicely and they can’t help but do whatever he wants. He’s charming”

Gojo let out a short and curious hum before Tsumiki and Megumi moved on. Long after the conversation had been over Gojo piped up and asked Megumi to keep an eye on [Name]. Megumi just nodded. He’d already planned to do that anyway.

Nosy Megumi Fushiguro was the worst thing to happen to teenaged [Name]. Adult [Name] paid him back in kind.

[Name] had the worst luck with romance. As in he’d only had two successful relationships–both ending miserably. The first time he was dumped at a wedding. It wasn’t theirs luckily. But it was his childhood best friend’s wedding and he had to stand there and smile like he didn’t get dumped five minutes before the bride walked down the aisle.

PIcture it, a dashing groomsman nursing a wounded heart as he listened to his closest friend promise eternal devotion to the sunniest, most reliable partner anyone could ask for. And the open bar wouldn’t be open for another two hours. Two hours of the perfect couple being fucking perfect. At least when he shed a few tears he could pass it off as being moved to emotion.

The relationships after that, if you could call them relationships, were doomed before they started. [Name] liked sex but adamantly refused to allow himself to get attached to anyone. His excuse was that he was just getting out of a long term relationship and wasn’t looking for anything serious. Unfortunately for him the only person that believed [Name], was himself.

Sex with strangers started to bore him before long but he wasn’t quite done with his avoidant lifestyle so he found himself conjuring excuses to break up with any partner with real potential. He once broke up with someone because they smiled too much. Apparently it made him feel like they were faking their happiness. The cliche avoidant behavior all came to a head when that one person snuck his way into [Name]’s heart.

And then the fucker had to die.

[Name] spent months pretending to mourn. He honestly just felt empty.

Once again: Fuck Megumi Fushiguro.

Not too long after Megumi wormed himself into [Name]’s life Gojo made his first appearance. Wearing sunglasses inside, bright smiles and loud laughs, the man commanded attention and called into doubt everything [Name] knew about himself, the world, and his luck. All of a sudden his life wasn’t in his hands anymore and his luck, which could’ve gone unnoticed, was sorcery. Sorcery that required studying at a boarding school away from his friends, family and the sense of familiarity that felt more like belonging. Sorcery school was a crock of shit.

He didn’t need to learn how to kick ass, and he certainly didn’t need to learn jujutsu techniques considering the fact that he’d stopped noticing curses as a child and hadn’t seen one again until he started channeling cursed energy throughout his body and into his eyes. He could’ve been normal, accepted the illusion of control and gone off to be unfulfilled in a less meaningful way.

I mean who would give up luck and blissful ignorance to risk their lives as teenaged soldiers fighting a war no one else knew about. And his dating pool shrunk before he even got to step foot in the waters. Marrying a sorcerer would only guarantee that his life or even his kid’s life would be ruled by the thing he hated and he couldn’t get out without learning to cope with the lives he could have saved. He had to face the fact that he would grow up to be Satoru Gojo.

Fuck.

Yuuji Itadori was practically a lifeline. Of course with his appearance brought on a whole bunch of other shit but he was the only one who could really understand [Name]. They fucked up his life too. There was no previous exposure to curses, no obvious fucked up origin story, he was at school and met Megumi Fushiguro and boom his life was on the line every day. Yuuji could not enjoy the simple things in life, he would watch friends die, he would not come to terms with the new life he was living. Try as he might.

Yuuji and Megumi were friends. It was hard not to be friends with Yuuji, he inspired people, made them laugh, made them want to live despite the odds. And [Name] was both lucky and stubborn, he would not let go of the one person that could understand him. Not for Megumi, or Gojo or the higher ups, he wouldn’t even die before Yuuji. That’s the promise he made to himself. He’d live for Yuuji. BFFs.

The first time they had sex [Name] was terrified and exhilarated. He was 20, Yuuji 19 and they’d both narrowly avoided death. Neither one of them wanting to die a virgin and just buzzing off of adrenaline. It happened again two more times before [Name] turned 21 and they’d stopped to preserve their friendship. Then they both got into relationships.

Yuuji got married at 26. By then [Name] had already been dumped and thus refused to be one of Yuuji's groomsmen. He showed up early, gave Yuuji his best wishes and then sat in the back during the actual service. The reception was nice, he and Yuuji danced. Itadori’s arms wrapped around [Name]’s waist, [Name]’s arms resting lazily on Yuuji’s shoulders. It was nice to pretend for a while in their little corner of the dance floor, foreheads touching and not a single eye on them. They separated with a grim smile and Yuuji was off to mingle with the rest of the guests. [Name] danced with Yuuta, remained cordial with Gojo and stayed away from Megumi Fushiguro. He didn’t even look at the cake.

Three years later [Name] and Itadori had sex again. It was exhilarating, they worked well together. It was a familiar dance; their eyes closed, forehead touched forehead but they never kissed. Not once. Yuuji was still married after all. Both too selfish to let go of each other, but neither selfish enough to avoid the guilt of what they’d done. What they were doing.

They lasted two weeks without seeing each other. Without ever mentioning it, everything was business as usual. They facetimed each other once a week to catch up and sent each other funny videos to say ‘this reminded me of you’ or ‘have you seen this’.

Yuuji’s marriage fell apart. But it wasn’t just the secret that did it. Getting married at 26 isn’t a death sentence but it is stifling when you’ve known nothing different since you were 15 and all Yuuji’s resentment towards jujutsu society and all the fucking people who died and then 3 years of marriage to a wonderful wonderful partner who just reminds you of all you lost and what could have been. Not even love could save his marriage. So he turned to what he knew best, what felt good no matter what. He turned to [Name].

Four months later Yuuji decided he wanted a divorce and he wanted to be with [Name] who was willing to throw it all away if Yuuji really wanted to. And he did want to. But [Name] didn’t want to put Yuuji in the same position again and told him to go to therapy. Apparently Itadori thought that meant couples therapy. Two months of couple’s therapy made Yuuji want to try and be better.

He had a plan-a good plan. He was going to leave. He was going to leave [Name]. They met on the rooftop of [Name’s] building to discuss the future. Facetime calls reduced to 20 minutes once a month. No more outings alone for the foreseeable future. They would be joined by Fushiguro.

“Kiss me” [Name] begged “If you’re going to leave me for good kiss me once and i’ll let you go. Forever.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea” Yuuji looked hesitant. His eyes glanced down to [Name]’s lips and his jaw clenched

“If you’re afraid kissing me will break your resolve then you shouldn’t be leaving me in the first place.” [Name] said resolutely. His eyes steeled with determination as he said “Kiss me. Kiss me my love and i’ll let you go for good”

Yuuji stepped closer. Once he bridged the gap [Name] launched forward and returned the kiss with a bruising passion. Yuuji pulled back for air just before the two of them got lost in it. They touched foreheads panting, breathing in each other’s air.

[Name] pulled away first and stepped toward the edge looking over.

“Don’t.” Yuuji panicked and inched closer hand seeking [Name]’s

[Name] looked up and let out a hollow laugh “I’m not gonna do anything” he said smiling as if anything about his behavior would reassure Yuuji.

“You just told me you’d let me go forever and then stepped toward the edge of your 15 story building i’m sorry if i’m a little worried”

“Come here” [Name] said, pulling Yuuji closer. Yuuji could see tears in his eyes “I’m not gonna jump.” Yuuji gripped [Name]’s shoulders and stared into his eyes only finding truth. He sighed and relaxed, letting go of [Name] who briefly kissed him on the cheek and smiled solemnly. He took a deep breath and finished his thought aloud: ‘i’m not gonna jump yuuji’

“I’m gonna push you”

Megumi Fushiguro ruined [Name]’s life. So [Name] killed Megumi’s husband.

This was a kind of sorrow [Name] could bear. Megumi took everything. His friends, his freedom, his childhood and the love of [Name]’s life. And he’d known it all along. How [Name] resented him long before Tsumiki got sick. As he consoled the grieving Fushiguro, the only thing [Name] said was “I forgive you”

Fushiguro thought it was odd that [Name] forgave him for ruining his life, as if the death of Yuuji washed away all their hatred and sin but no.

[Name] had already repaid him in kind.

#male reader #m reader #m!reader #x male reader #male reader insert #jjk x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #that-bi-bitch-writes

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k-martins · 5 months

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The Concept Art of Tsumiki Fushiguro

Okay, okay, I should have done Megs first because he's our protagonist alongside Yuji, but let's just ignore that and move on.

Trabalhar na arte conceitual é algo que raramente faço, pois rapidamente fico entediado com os designs dos personagens ou acabo mudando muitas coisas à medida que prossigo. Mas vi isso como um desafio divertido e não há nada melhor do que começar pelo meu personagem favorito.

I'll divide this into two points: Art style and symbolism. I'll do the same when I finally draw the designs for Megs, Yuji, Nobara and Satoru.

Art style

_ I'm still working on my style and the things I like in my drawings, so maybe that will change in the future.

_ Queria misturar um pouco de jjk e Kny, optando por um rosto mais realista e expressivo como no JJK, mas ainda mantendo o estilo de olhar que vejo, por exemplo, no Tanjiro. (Sério, deixar as pupilas brancas é muito interessante esteticamente. Achei que ficaria estranho, mas me enganei agradavelmente)

_ Quando estou no processo de design, sempre opto por desenhar a versão chibi dos personagens para determinar como serão as cores e a paleta de cores. No caso da Miki, tentei fazer algo parecido com o que vemos no anime, uma mistura de rosa claro e amarelo. Pretendo manter a mesma paleta para sua versão adulta, embora o look com certeza vá mudar.

Symbolisms

_ Starting with her child version, Tsumiki's kimono is printed with my attempt to replicate the dragonflies on Gojo's kimono, in Toji's flashback. The same with Megumi. A simple way to connect them with our most powerful hashira LOL.

_ As libélulas na cultura japonesa estão associadas à felicidade, coragem e prosperidade e força (é por isso que Gojo tem um quimono estampado com elas, sendo o feiticeiro mais forte.)

_ In her adult version, Miki mainly wears a nurse's uniform, but she also has a traditional kimono printed with lilies, my favorite symbolism for her.

_ Lilies symbolize purity, innocence, peace and tenderness, qualities that are associated with Tsumiki in the manga. It is also a reference to red spider lilies, the famous Higanbana which are known in Japan as flowers of death

_ Unlike her childhood version, Tsumiki keeps her hair tied up in a hairstyle similar to the classic Shimada-mage, as was the custom of young women at the time in which the story takes place (Taisho Era, as in KNY).

Well, I think that's.

Writing about my creative process is strange, since most of my thoughts are, well, inside my head. Putting this in a post is something… different.

Anyway, thank you to everyone who is following this Au, especially to Anon who asked me about Tsumiki in the story! I was so excited to hear that someone was interested in this! I felt like a schoolgirl talking about her crush, LOL

I still have a long way to go in the design of the other characters, as well as the development of the story itself (I really want to do a long work, with several chapters, but I'm afraid of losing the hype halfway through and abandoning it T-T). However, I'm having so much fun! This Au has been living in my head for weeks and isn't paying rent, LMAO.

Thanks again if you made it this far!

To check out the rest of the project, check out my masterlist!

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mania-sama · 3 months

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rule #33 - pyre

Rule #33 - Pyre - Fish in a Birdcage

Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing - Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Megumi & Fushiguro Tsumiki & Gojo Satoru Tags - veteran! gojo, gojo has ptsd, parental! gojo, no curses au, ptsd, heavy angst, implied/referenced child abuse, russian ballet references, gojo adopted the fushiguros, flashbacks Summary - Gojo Satoru, a young, decorated veteran, is petrified of fireworks. Word Count - 2,721 Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own Whumptober 2023 - Day 31: PTSD See my full Whumptober 2023 Challenge on Tumblr or Ao3

Festivals are, generally speaking, the worst times of the year.

Gojo isn’t a killjoy. He enjoys the colors decorating the streets and adorning the yukatas, kimonos, or whichever traditional clothes are being worn in accordance with the celebration just like everybody else. Venders add extra spices and seasonings to their food, the prices are lowered, and the overall atmosphere buzzes with childish joy.

And, despite his best attempt to keep up his indifferent exterior, young Megumi’s eyes light up when Gojo informs him of the special occasion. Toji’s children love festivals like the rest of civilian Japan. Excitement is rare to see in a child like Megumi, so he always arranges for someone to take him and Tsumiki out to experience the fun in Tokyo.

Instead of spending time with Toji’s little goblins that he’s doing his damn best to raise into decent human beings, he sits in the tiniest closet in his penthouse with thick sound-proof headphones to maximize the noise-canceling effect. He brings a weighted blanket to drape over his body so he won’t have to feel any reverberations, either. It has the added use of making him feel secure and grounded.

It isn’t the principle of missing out on the festival, it’s having to answer Tsumiki’s imploring question, “Why can’t you take us to the festival?” with a flippant laugh and a lie. He wants nothing more than to lie on the grass or stand in the streets and watch the dazzling fireworks with them. But as soon as the first fireworks explode, followed by smaller pops and shattered lights, he thinks that the dirt and grass shards are hiding landmines, or that snipers are blowing off his comrades' heads from the broken-glass buildings. The streets are empty save for the scared civilians holding automatic rifles and enemy soldiers with orders to leave no one alive.

Gojo can’t go to festivals. He can’t listen to the sound of fireworks in his own home without diving under his kitchen table and plugging his nose to hide his panting breaths. Experience has taught him to stay in his closet and keep his headphones and blanket on, no matter how his heart breaks as the children’s faces pull into resignation when he denies them yet another festival.

He is normally a very observant person. He’d been so ever since he was a child, but having been trained to be a soldier since he could walk, it didn’t really mean much regarding innate ability. In any case, he kept good track of the days, months, and years. He prefers to ignore schedules entirely and operate solely on a feel-good basis, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t perfectly aware of the exact time it is at any given moment. It’s a system of behavior he can’t rewrite, unfortunately.

Except in the odd case — when he was without food and water in the Gobi desert, when he mourned the death of his best friend, or when both of his children ran a hundred and three-degree fevers for an illness he doesn’t know the name of. Time stops operating in his mind. He loses where he is, and all he can focus on is nursing Megumi and Tsumiki back to health.

Gojo shouldn’t have run out of the house to buy medicine and stockpile their favorite foods. He knows he shouldn’t have. Logic would reason that he would call or text a friend to bring him what he needs and pay them back later. But Satoru isn’t a Gojo for nothing.

He is the youngest decorated veteran of the last century. He doesn’t rely on other people, because he is the strongest. He only calls for help from his friends for the sake of the children, not for himself. Children should always be put before him.

The best officer of the Japanese military can certainly handle an emergency supply run in a safe environment for two sick children. The store isn’t even that far away. He’s in a rush, yes, but it’s simple work. He’s accomplished much more in half the time.

He notices the people in bright yukatas but he doesn’t pay them any mind. Whatever event is going on, he doesn’t care for. He can view it from the balcony of his penthouse if it's something really important. He runs into the store, nearly breaks his card in his hurry to pay, and walks out with the image of his — Toji’s — children quickening his strides. Pushing past the gathered crowds of dressed-up people, Gojo picks up on a faint whisper of excitement. It causes his step to falter, only for a second. He doesn’t even fully stop.

An even fainter whizzing sound fills the vast space between him and the children. The sky explodes in shattered lights.

It’s a festival. He knows this. But when he looks around, where his feet are carrying him behind the closest building on autopilot, when crouches to the ground and covers his mouth and plugs his nose, he isn’t exactly sure. He’s not sure that the thick concrete support beam is ready to crumble as a part of the dilapidated city from bombs, guns, and missiles. He’s not sure that those gasps out there are from the spray of civilians and soldiers falling to automatic rifles and suicide bombers.

He holds the paper bags in his hands, shaking, feeling a medicine bottle between his fingers. It’s for Megumi and Tsumiki. This he knows. He should know. Yet the guns keep firing, and he is the commander of his unit. He needs to be out there, guiding his men through the kill zone of a Middle Eastern conflict Japan isn’t officially a part of. But then, where is his gun? Where are any of his weapons?

He focuses on the ground and the paper bags holding chips and medicine. Chips and medicine. His hands are trembling. A Gojo’s hands don’t shake. He’s been trained to hold a gun since he could grab objects, and he learned how to perfectly weave in and out of a sniper’s scope by the time he was ten years old. This is no different. It shouldn’t be any different.

He closes his eyes as the guns tear into his men. Why can’t he get back out there? The palm of his hand presses against his teeth, and his back hunches in on itself. He’s crumbling to the ground, even though he is Gojo Satoru, the strongest of Japan, the best of his MOS. The chips in the bag crumble in his hands, and people are dying . His rifle has been lost, somewhere in the river he crossed to get into the kill zone, probably. His knives were sticking out of the poor children he had to kill, for there were bombs strapped to their chests and weapons too big for their hands. His other handguns were given to his unit as they had lost theirs to the river as well.

He is Gojo Satoru. He doesn’t need a weapon to survive.

Yet. His knees are on the ground and the medicine for his sick and injured soldiers isn’t getting to their proper place in time. He clutches a hand to his hair and wills himself to move, but the pops have him put in place. Panting breaths escape out of his shaking hands, and his heart pounds so hard he fears it’ll break his chest. Fear. He’ll admit it. He’s afraid. But he can’t be afraid. He hasn’t been afraid since his mother and father beat all of the fear out of him and introduced him to the kill zone at the ripe age of twelve. He knows conflict. He knows guns. He doesn’t know fear.

But fear knows him.

Closer, much closer than his dying unit, he hears the soft pull of a stringed instrument. It's an odd mixture of a guitar and violin, and its sound is stunted in fragmented half-seconds. He’s never heard this in the military before. His unit has had talent with instruments, but this is something else entirely.

Another instrument is introduced, a piano, he thinks. It’s high-pitched, laying oddly yet beautifully over the original instrument. The song is unmistakable now. Tchaikovsky’s The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy from The Nutcracker. He doesn’t know the play intimately, but he has seen one or two ballets in local performances.

He settles against the concrete beam and listens to the music. It plays over the crowd, though he can’t afford to stop listening for them at all. If they grow quiet, then they’re all dead, or they’ve moved out of the area without him. Either way, Gojo’s escape is going to be messy and long. But he’s Gojo Satoru. If he can get off the ground and stop weeping and running and shaking like—

The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy fades out, and Coda plays next. It’s a little more intense, but it runs in and through his ears. It’s so unfamiliar with the kill zone. He’s never heard ballet music in desolated cities. If he hears music, it’s usually the local music in whichever country he’s in or when he’s at base with a mixture of United States military, allied infantry, and Japanese Special Force soldiers, playing music with those languages in it. In general, they usually have words, whether he can understand them or not notwithstanding.

But this, this is new.

He doesn’t know how or why someone would be playing Tchiakolvsky at this time. It doesn’t make sense, and he dares to pry open his eyes. His paper bags are clenched in his hands, but the contents have spilled out onto the ground. Medicine for his soldiers, chips for food. Not practical, but they make do with what they have. He’s eaten bugs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner before.

Not on the battlefield, but as training when he was a child. If he had to survive off of nothing but the land, he could do it.

The Gobi desert doesn’t have anything but sand and poisonous animals. So much for that invaluable lesson.

The ground beneath him is concrete, and he dares to look up. Outside gathered is a mass of people in bright yukatas . The Russian ballet has come to an end, and Gojo hears the beginnings of Swan Lake . It’s a comfortable tune, but it will turn intense inevitably. Oddly, he doesn’t find it as disconcerting as it’s supposed to make the listener feel. Satoru imagines the black swan, but the dancer turns away from him, hiding her dark makeup.

He stares at the crowd for a long time. It’s unfamiliar to the kill zone. None of them are little children with bombs on their chests or adults shooting at him with weapons they don’t know how to handle. Somewhere in the distance, in the buildings, someone must be aiming for the crowd, to ruin the festival. He’s seen it happen before.

Swan Lake continues, coming close to an end, and a voice accompanies the next song. “You’re in Tokyo, Japan. It’s 20XX. You’re safe.”

Gojo doesn’t startle at the voice, but he does turn towards it, and he can’t quite comprehend what he’s looking at.

At one moment, he’s looking at one of his men, and he needs to grab him and bring him down behind the concrete pillar to protect him until they can make a move to safety. At the next, he’s looking at a tall man with Tchaikovsky playing from his phone. He’s looking at Nanami. Nanami in uniform, with a gun instead of a phone. Nanami in a pale blue yukata .

“My name is Nanami Kento. You’re in Tokyo, Japan. It’s 20XX,” he says, his voice relaxed. “You’re safe.”

Satoru stares at his friend numbly.

“The fireworks will make another round soon. Let’s go back to your penthouse,” Nanami continues. He doesn’t make any moves, though, and a new song from a ballet he doesn’t know filters through the speakers of Nanami’s phone. He thinks. Gojo isn’t sure.

Nanami repeats his early statement. My name is Nanami Kento. Not an enemy soldier, though they did fight together at one time. You’re in Tokyo, Japan. That explains the yukatas and flashing billboards. It’s 20XX. When was Toji killed in battle? When was Geto? You’re safe.

My name is Nanami Kento. You’re in Tokyo, Japan. It’s 20XX. You’re safe.

Russian ballets don’t play in the kill zone.

Satoru turns away from Nanami and shakily collects the medicine and chips that had slipped out of his paper bags, along with the sunglasses that had slipped off his face. He struggles to remember why he has them in the first place. It most certainly has something to do with Toji and children, but he isn’t quite sure how those two add together. Toji is most certainly dead. He knows this with certainty. Children die around him left and right.

Unless it’s about Toji’s children. Gojo looks at Nanami, and as one of his only surviving friends from the battlefield, he says shakily, “I promised to take care of Toji’s kids.”

Nanami doesn’t reply to him directly, yet Satoru takes it as an affirmative. “We need to go back to your penthouse before the fireworks start again.”

The Russian ballets don’t stop playing even as they push through the crowd with Gojo’s hands covering his ears. He can barely hear it over the sounds of the crowd and his blocked eardrums, but it’s there nonetheless. He focuses on what he can sense close to him — the paper bags, Nanami’s back, the safe ground beneath his feet, and the violins and pianos.

They make it to the apartment, and Nanami stops in front of the gated back entry. “I don’t live here,” he states simply. That means Gojo lives here. If Satoru has the key, then he lives here.

It’s in his pocket, and he unlocks the gate. They walk in and go in the elevator, not the stairs. Stairs. Too many houses, too many stairs and floors to clear.

“My name is…” Nanami drones on to completion. “You’re safe.”

You’re safe.

The elevator dings, and he doesn’t flinch. The ballet filters through the cracks of his fingers, and the paper bags feel heavy in his hands. He’s carried deadweight bodies a hundred times heavier than the feather-light weight of the paper bags, yet he struggles anyway.

They stand in front of the door to his penthouse. Gojo unlocks it, but Nanami waves a hand for him to stop. “Wait here,” he says, and Satoru complies. He’s Gojo Satoru. He doesn’t comply with anyone but himself. He’s the strongest, the best officer of his MOS.

He does anyway, because inside this penthouse —

“We’re going to play the quiet game. Whoever wins gets to go on a spa day with Satoru.”

— are his children, and they are the most important children in the whole world. His children. His children.

Megumi and Tsumiki.

They’re lying on the couches in the living room. Nanami guides Gojo past them, but he manages to spare them a glance, and he sees Tsumiki’s red-colored face peering worriedly at him. He wants to say something to them, but now they’re being fired at and there’s no more time for any words other than directions to take cover.

His hands are still covering his ears when the pop is followed by so many more. But Nanami has him in the closet, and his sound-proof headphones are on, and the weighted blanket is covering him head-to-toe.

He doesn’t technically hear any more of the gunshot-fireworks. He sits in his closet like he’s hiding from an Iraqi unit outnumbering him fifteen to one and figuring out the best way to take them down and make it back to his unit alive. The medicine and chips have been taken from him, and he squeezes his weighted blanket between his palms.

The light bulb burns overhead. His jackets and small winter coats hang beside him like bodies.

He’s the best officer the Japanese military had ever seen, who retired after his third four-year contract ended.

Gojo Satoru, the strongest of his MOS, who trained for combat since he could walk and enlisted illegally at sixteen, can’t take his kids out to a goddamn fireworks festival by himself.

Gojo Satoru hunches and sobs into his blanket.

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loving-august · 2 years

Text

a sweet accident. [01] — encounters.

๑.pairings: fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

๑.genre: angst, fluff, crack, second year au, timeskip au, sorcery au + sfw!!

๑.synopsis: in which, megumi happens to meet you after mistaking your room in his sisters' room.

๑.wc: 2.0k

๑.warnings: some minor jjk spoilers, violent words, anything mentioned in a hospital cause i think someone will get triggered by this, time almost doesn't exist here [slow updates!!]

๑.links: navigation | jjk.masterlist | taglist form (general)

๑.series taglist | series masterlist | next

— ^^ limited to 15 slots!! [ 0/15 ]

— In a world full of misery, your life wasn't that bad. Ups and downs have happened many times before, failing grades, sneaking out, having a pet, winning a competition, and being stuck in a hospital, sitting in a wheelchair with your crochet project in progress. You pushed yourself as you rode in your wheelchair on your way to your room, you wouldn't call this walking but rather riding? If you weren't so sure. Seeing the nurses that knew you had a little greeting to you.

"Good morning y/n!" Miss Tachibana greeted you with a small wave from the nurse's lobby. You waved back to her and greeted her with a smile on your face, "good morning to you too!"

You stopped pushing yourself and gave her a sweet greeting, "Busy today aren't 'cha?"

"Yeah, we got emergencies a lot more frequently…but nothing too serious though,"

"Oh, well, See you later!"

"See you!"

You continued pushing yourself towards your room, you passed along the doors of your so-called neighbors, one who was dying, one who was only temporary, the other were chill with you, and lastly one was sleeping for a long time. The neighbors you had are kind and have an interesting life. You share jokes and even teas. An example of an affair, wrong child, and even unprofessional business around the hospital. Your phone rang to see your sister, yumi. You answered the call, “hello?”

“Where are you? You’re not in your room!”

“Oh, I went outside though, I got bored.”

“You should’ve told me that you’re going out for god sake!”

“Aw come one, at least let me be independent?” You pleaded.

A groaning sound came from the phone and you chuckled, “don’t worry, I’m in the hospital. It’s not like someone will push me off-“

“And you know about ghosts right?”

“Fine, fine, I’ll tell you next time,” you groaned.

“Oh, by the way, I bought your favorite snack,” Just when yumi was about to say something, the call ended, with you rushing on your way back to your room. You slid open the door and went inside to see no one. “Is this a joke or something?!”

And then you noticed something. The heart monitor was beeping, you scanned the room, yours is much more different since your table was very messy with the tangled yarns and stitch markers that you didn’t bother to clean up. You turned your head to the bed to see someone probably sleeping. Oh my god.

The Girl who was probably older than you has a weird mark on her head, probably some symbol in some ritual. You shivered at the looks of it. Then it made you wonder if you mistook the room, which means… The room you went into was your neighbor, Tsumiki…Tsumiki Fushiguro!

The door slid to see a boy in a questionable sea urchin hairstyle. Aside from the hair, he has these pretty eyelashes that most girls are jealous of because of it, and his dark blue orbs met yours. You immediately moved and turned the wheelchair. Seeing a pretty guy is good, but he looks mad!

“Sorry, i- mistook this room as my room since uh- we’re... Neighbors?”

A head popped out from the door frame to see your sister. “y/n! You!— come here!- Sorry for the inconvenience but my sister thinks this is her room, we are deeply sorry for that.”

The guy who has this neutral face just nodded. “It’s alright. But next time, please do be aware next time,” he replied. Even his voice was pretty.

You left the room, completely embarrassed while your sister was scolding you for being careless enough to mistake your room. It was your fault, and you admitted to that. She helped you on the bed and put down the food beside your table. “Come on, eat up. Your project can wait you know,”

You put down the project and grabbed the food from the table, “thanks.”

Yumi just hummed and went to the bathroom to wash her hands to join eating with you. The sounds of the water from the faucet and she came out from the bathroom. “Say, when do I get my treatment?” you slowly asked while she paused. “Around three months, The doctors said, it’ll take time for the medicine to arrive since it’s from overseas.”

“Oh.”

“Is there something wrong?”

Clenching on the pillow sheets on your lap, slowly saying, “It’s just that… I wanna walk again. I don’t wanna be a burden for mom and dad, working their asses off just to cover the bills for me, I hate it being someone who pulls others down just because of my inconvenience.”

Your sister sat on the bed with you and hugged you. “You are not a burden y/n, mom and dad are happy enough that you are alive and energetic.”

“Thanks, for the pep talk.”

She patted your head lightly, “No problem, come on, eat up. You gotta teach me how to do crocheting.”

You cracked a smile and chuckled. “Sure, just bear with me. I’m not that good of a teacher.”

Your sister left due to her school schedule, and now you are alone in the hospital room. You’re too bummed out to open the tv, and even to do your project. You attempted to sleep but it didn’t work. You looked at the wall clock to see how long you wasted from your boredom.

She even suggested if your mom or dad will look out for you. But you said taht it's alright and you won't do anything stupid.

You slowly moved onto your wheelchair, and after you succeeded, you grabbed your phone and your crochet kit just in case you’ll be bored in the Hospital’s Garden. Sliding the door open, you got out and closed it again. As you moved along the lonely hallway, you took a glance at your neighbor, tsumiki. You immediately looked in front and went along.

The Garden was peaceful like always. You just sometimes hope that something dramatic will happen but not life-threatening, but just some drama like someone getting slapped or something else. A couple of nurses passed by and gave you a small wave and continued with their work.

“Excuse me.”

The familiar voice you heard earlier was much closer than earlier. You turned around to see the guy earlier. “Uhm, do you... Need anything?” you asked. He went closer to you and pulled out something in his pocket. It was your crochet hook. “You dropped this earlier. I was hoping I could give this back to you but I heard a couple of loud voices.”

You shook your head. “Yeah, my sister scolded me though. But, thank you. And sorry again for earlier. I rushed out of my own accord, hopefully, I could go back to my room faster,” he gave you the hook and so you happened to brush his and your hands as you tried to get the hook.

“Say, I never get to know your name, I'm l/n y/n.”

“Fushiguro Megumi."

Silence took over between the two of you. You didn’t mind it if he left since there’s nothing to talk about. Plus, you have never talked to a person who has the same age as you. “So… uh, is Tsumiki a family relative? I don’t mean to pry but, avoid the question if you’re uncomfortable.”

He was sitting down on a solo seat bench while conversing with you. “Yeah, she’s my sister.”

Silence once again took over. You have no words to say, it was awkward enough. But a good question popped into your head. “Uh, Fushiguro-san,” he looked at you, waiting for your question, “what does the place from the outside look like?”

“Have you ever gone out from the hospital?”

You shook your head. “No, especially these days, since my treatment will be arriving in a couple of months, they need to look after me.”

He nodded at your answer. “The outside is crowded. But still okay though. I can’t say much about things.”

“Is it fun?”

“It depends on the person you’re with, I guess.”

“So you have a girlfriend?”

“No.”

“—Fushiguro!”

You and he looked from behind to see the pink-haired guy and the ginger-haired girl in the same uniforms. “Are those your friends?” you asked, He got up from the bench and stood up. “Yeah,”

“Oh, they seem nice.”

“They are.”

“Hm, by the way, thanks again.”

“No problem."

Fushiguro left with his friends. You smiled at the thought of talking to someone at a rare time. You were kind of hoping to see him again and have a little pep talk. Even though from his stoic, and blunt attitude, he never failed to have a little conversation with you.

The ravenette walked with his two friends back to jujutsu tech. With his two friends bickering on what to eat for today's dinner, he was scrolling through his phone from behind. Especially, the sidewalk is only good for 2 persons to walk through, someone has to go behind, and he doesn't mind it.

The pink-haired friend of his, turned around to see his friend scrolling through his phone. "Fushiguro, where do you wanna eat for dinner?" he asked. Fushiguro looked up and replied, "anywhere is fine."

"Steak it is!"

"No."

"But it's good!"

His pink-haired friend pouted at his reply and began to ask about earlier, "fushiguro?" the ravenette raised his head, "what?" The pink-haired friend of his, put his hand on his chin and began to attempt to remember what he was about to ask, "that girl earlier, do you know her?"

He remembered your face as soon as he heard the question. "No, I just recently knew her," he answered. They soon arrived at a fast-food restaurant. He couldn't argue since the two pulled out their persuasion skills to convince him. The three sat down on the chairs beside the big window panel where you can see the cars and people passing by the streets.

"Ne, on the weekends, you two tag along with me shopping," Nobara said. Itadori looked at her and gave a reply, "we've done that last week!"

Nobara scoffed at itadori's reply, "tch. As if you have a girlfriend to begin with."

"Hey! That's mean!"

"I'm just stating the facts."

Itadori turned his head on to the ravenette, "Say fushiguro, what are you gonna do on the weekends?" He asked and took a bite on his hamburger.

He gulped after taking a small sip from his drink, "probably back to the hospital and train. Depends," he answered.

Nobara stopped eating upon hearing his answer, "are you sure you're not attracted to that girl earlier?" She asked. He irked at the question thrown at him. "That's not it idiot," he commented.

She sighed, "Whatever floats on your boat I guess. But don't forget we'll be at the sister event again. Maki-senpai will drag out our butts again this time."

"I know that."

This time, itadori sighed loudly, making his two friends look at him. "I can't believe we'll be doing the sister event, todo will come at me again!"

"Sucks to be you, I guess."

The ravennette lays down on his bed. It was currently 10:30 in the evening. He turns on the other side of his bed, looking for a comfortable position to sleep in.

For some reason, he couldn't get to sleep.

He turned around once again, attempting to sleep.

“What does the place from the outside look like?”

Such a simple question yet so complex to answer. What does the place from the outside look like?

Well.

It has a lot of good places to go. New and nostalgic scenarios to see. But why does it feel like the answer is wrong? Is there something that you wanted to hear? Besides from the places. What will he say to you back then? The outside is so cruel even the kindest person gets to be cursed?

He sighed once again, "why am I overthinking this?" Soon, for about 20 minutes or so, he slowly drifts off to sleep for the night.

thoughts on the 1st part? :))

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