#but this is the least horrible it looked so what can you do?

[lizzieisright]

Moon peppers (4)

(1) (2) (3)

Palestine: what can you do

were!Abby x witch!reader

Summary: Abby runs away from her (former) pack and into your forest. You're not happy with your new (woods?)mate.

Tags: fantasy au, sloppy worldbuilding (fuck it we ball), fem!reader, alpha!abby, witch!reader (so not an omega), sentient forest, stubborn idiots in love who annoy each other.

Notes: how do I keep hating the witch after she saved my life asking for a friend

Taglist: @abbysbae @poxismind @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @pjmispunk @herdelreydear @lmaoo-spiderman @littletinyladybugs (if you want me to tag/untag you for the whole series dm me please)

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Your morning is.. odd. You expected yourself to forget how to control so much magic, but instead it feels better than the last ten years you spent being weak. You really couldn't live like this: it made you feel vulnerable and helpless, and now that your power is back, you feel like yourself again.

In a way it terrifies you. Because you were a completely different person ten years ago, and now you don't want your old habits back. You don't like seeing your tattoos and runes, especially the ones on your forearms, but you try your best to make peace with it. Your tattoos have almost nothing to do with your power - they're just channels for your magic, a spellbook engraved in your skin. They were faint before yesterday, fading away as your powers grew weaker, but they were still there, and they will not disappear until you die. You have to accept it, and maybe, if you don't make stupid decisions this time, you'll change your heart about them. 

You meditate before breakfast to manage your flow of magic exactly like Caitlyn showed you, even though you expect the wolf to wake up at any moment and trash your still room. But the wolf is asleep - you can feel it through the bond, which is annoying: you don't like having your space disturbed like this. You're sure the wolf won't like it too. You concentrate on the bond between you to see how well the healing is happening and it makes you groan - fat chance it will be finished by the evening, with this pace it will take a whole damn week. The thought of spending more than a day with the wolf makes you depressed.

Abby wakes up. This fact alone shakes her to her core: she is not dead. She is supposed to be dead, what the fuck? More than that, she feels almost okay - she is not supposed to feel mostly okay, she fucking died! She knows this, because no way in hell she hallucinated having her throat ripped out. 

Then Abby opens her eyes, tries to move - and goes into survival mode. She is in a still room and she is restrained. All her paws are chained and she can't move. This is worse than death. Oh god, this is so much worse. 

Abby tugs on her chains with all her power, but they down even bulge. Abby growls and coils and tries again, but she only hits the wall with her back. Abby starts to panic: she can't stay here - the fucking witch bound her! She is in debt to the witch! She needs to leave before you come and order her to do something horrible. 

Abby tries again, but this time the door to the still room opens and Abby sees the creepy glowing eyes of yours. Abby starts to move around even more violently - she doesn't want you anywhere near her. You're one of the rare monsters of this world and she needs to either get away from you or to kill you, but she is not staying here. The moment she is free she will rip you to shreds. 

At least you look scared when you enter the room and you keep the biggest distance possible from her. Abby growls and snarls, clasping her jaws around the air, eager to kill you. 

“It's not what it looks like.” You blurt, your arm in the air as if you want to tell her you came in peace. 

Abby growls louder. 

“Listen, I'll free you if you calm the fuck down and turn into human form so we can talk.”

Abby is so angry she doesn't even consider the possibility of calming down or pretending to calm down. 

“Or I can force you to turn into a human.” You say in a shaky voice, as if you're yourself scared of this possibility. 

This actually makes Abby stop. She doesn't want you near her, so she needs to pick the least of two evils. Abby growls and starts to change, her fur disappears and her bones rearrange. The chains tighten around her human wrists and now she is sitting on your floor, glaring at you, her shirt ripped on her sides and her pants dirty.  

“Thank you. I will explain everything and then I'll free you, okay?” Abby just growls at you again. 

You swallow hard: the wolf is even scarier as a human. The woman is big and strong and her claws are out still, her arms are bulging with muscles, and the way she looks at you doesn't help you calm your nerves. Her shirt is red from blood and it only makes her look scarier. You clear your throat and start speaking.

“Yesterday I found you dead, and the woods wanted me to save you. So I did. Right now you're still in the process of healing and if you go too far away from me, the energy will stop coming and you will die. This is why I brought you here. I also knew you would want to kill me or you'd run away, so I chained you. Now, please make peace with the fact that you're stuck with me for a while and then I will release you. Good? Good.”

Abby growls, humbled. She doesn't want to make peace with it, but you do sound logical. And you're still scared of her, which is a good sign: maybe you won't have the guts to hurt her. 

“Am I blood bound to you?” Abby growls and you look offended and angry, which confuses Abby. And also amuses. 

“Fuck you.” You spit. “Not all witches are like this, you ungrateful beast. The only bound you have is the energy one that heals you. After that you're free to leave and please don't ever see me again. Jerk.”

You flick your fingers for the chains to disappear and stomp out of the still room. You knew this werewolf was an asshole, but holy fuck! 

The wolf stomps after you.

“It would not have happened if you didn't take all the moon peppers!” The woman argues and follows you to the kitchen. You turn around and stare at this ungrateful, entitled shit of a wolf. 

“First of all, as if a bunch of moon peppers would have saved you from getting your throat ripped out!” You snap back and get into her face, angry and stubborn. “Second of all, maybe if you didn't fucking attack me and talked to me instead I would have shared some of them!” You flip your arms around in frustration.

“Because witches are famous for being helpful and kind.” The wolf snarls at you and you can't believe the audacity of her. 

But she is also right. She did have all the reasons to attack you and not trust you. You calm down a bit and take a step back. 

“It's still idiotic to attack a witch. I might've not been so nice.”

“You were shitting your pants in fear.” The wolf deadpans.

“As if I wouldn’t find a way to get my revenge without a direct attack. You're exceptionally stupid.” You huff and the wolf growls. “You took my friend's den, covered it in blood and attacked me. Do you comprehend what I could have done if I wanted to? You know why witches use blood binding? Because it  makes us stronger.” You hiss sadistically into the blonde's face.

For a second there's fear in the wolf's eyes, and some part of you feel satisfied. The other part, though, feels disgusted with you. You take a breath. 

“I'm sorry. You just really pissed me off being so stubborn about your own safety.” You sigh and rub your face. 

The silence falls and you go to the kitchen to cook some breakfast for yourself and for this stupid wolf: after all, you will be stuck together and if someone will be nasty and poison the shared time, it won't be you. 

Abby blinks. She feels lost. She expected you to be some kind of creep or a sadist, even if you were afraid of her; and she knew you could've bound her - that's exactly what she thought happened. But she didn't expect you to actually be nice. Well, relatively nice: you chained her for her own good, then threatened her and now you just apologised to her, and Abby feels like a fool if she continues being mean to you. She really doesn't have any ground to mistreat you except some rumours and her awful, but limited experience. She only met one witch before. 

Well. She can play nice too. 

“I'm Abby.” Abby says grumpily, still not ready to believe you: you just threatened to bind her, for god's sake!

You hum and tell her your name as well while you cut vegetables with aggressive vigour. Abby assumes you're imagining cutting her into pieces. 

It's awkward. It is really, really awkward. You're obviously still frustrated and Abby doesn't burn with desire to talk to you either. Plus she is in your home and she definitely doesn't know where to put herself. She settles for a stool near you. Abby stares at your back and your arms silently, and then she is hit with the realisation. 

“You didn't have tattoos before.” 

You smirk sadly. 

“Yeah, well. Before that I didn't have to revive a whole werewolf.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Ask the forest. They made a deal with me.”

How calculating, Abby thinks. Also: how the fuck do you deal with a forest?

“So you still do deals.” 

“It's different.” You say sharply. “I don't blood bind.”

“I get it.” Abby huffs and backs off: a witch who doesn't like blood binding, might be a goddamn oxymoron. “So for how long am I stuck with you?”

“Three days, probably. Maybe more, depending how fast you'll heal.”

“I heal fast.”

“Don't compare your usual healing with coming back from the dead. Who knows how much of your brain died. That's why you can't be far away from me. You go away, you break the bond, your brain dies. Got it?”

Abby hums. She has never heard of anyone being able to revive someone. She thinks you know some old forbidden magic if you can bring people back, and it just doesn't match with what she sees: a scaredy cat who lives in the woods and has to spend hours fishing to get three fish. Your home is cosy and warm, with a lot of natural light and Abby doesn't understand how you could have saved her life: you’re soft and weak and live in a house suited for some kind old lady, not a witch who could bring people from the dead. How much fucking power a witch would need to even do that?

“How far is too far?” 

“If I stay here and you go beyond my shields, you're dead.”

Abby sighs, annoyed. She doesn't want to stay next to you for three days. She is somewhat grateful for being alive, but it's weird. It's very weird to be in one space with you. 

You place two plates and sit opposite of Abby. Abby looks at her plate and wants to hesitate, to think, but she is so fucking hungry she starts eating right away. 

It's not…bad. Edible. (God she will have to eat like this for three more days?)

You watch the wolf- Abby's face and can't help your smile. Unfortunately you're very familiar with the fact you can't cook - Cait and Vi tried it once and since then you don't host dinners anymore; sometimes Cait sends you back with food - but you didn't expect the wolf to be so sensitive to your food. You eat it just fine after all. 

“It's bad.” You laugh. 

“It is.” Abby agrees. “Did you do it on purpose?”

“What? No. My taste senses are just fucked up by a lot of potions.”

You see how Abby tenses and you sigh: it's strange to have your everyday life being seen as some kind of horror story. There's a lot of rumours about witches that are mostly true, but you don't think of Abby as a mindless, uncivilised beast even though she is a were, so there should be room to believe that some witches are not that bad. 

(You think of your past and feel ashamed: it's not like you were “not that bad” all your life). 

“Don't tell me you've never drunk a potion.” You try to appeal to Abby's own experience, but you know she might have a bad one. “From coughing? Pain killers? Never?”

“Are you saying witches brew them?” Abby smirks like you're ridiculous. 

“Well, yes. We sell them for money, that's how everyone gets them.” 

Abby is silent as she chews your food that you think is quite edible, actually - but she drinks her flower milk with every spoon and you take a wild guess she can't stomach it. 

“Okay, listen. Are you a good cook?”

“Yes, actually. Everyone with enhanced senses makes a good cook.” Abby says with pride and you see her blue eyes sparkle. She also has freckles. Which is kinda cute. 

“Then you can cook whatever you want and not suffer.” You offer. 

Abby frowns at you like she expects some kind of trickery. You sigh again and raise your hands in defeat. You tried. 

“Do you have any meat?”

“...No.”

“And I can't hunt.” Abby explains to you like you're stupid. You roll your eyes. 

“There's fish in the freezer. It should be fine.” 

That's how Abby spends her afternoon: cooking fish. She has to ask you for other ingredients and you send her to your still room, which makes her shiver. It's creepy - just like you are with your eyes and tattoos and potion drinking or whatever - and Abby thinks of people trapped in these still rooms and being experimented on. She is happy she doesn't see any kind of animal parts on your shelves. You're out of the house for the most part: when Abby looks out of the window, she sees you sitting on the ground, absolutely still. Weirdo. 

“At least this weirdo is harmless compared to her kin.” Abby says to herself while she cuts the fish.  

You also saved her life and didn't ask for anything in return - not counting leaving you alone after - and Abby really struggles to keep thinking of you as a monster. You don't seem half-bad. And she should make friends here, now that she doesn't have a pack. The thought of being friends with a witch actually makes Abby laugh out loud.

After lunch, which is spent mostly in silence except for your praise on Abby's cooking, you tell her you'll be in the still room and that she can find something to be busy with. You point at books and yarn. Abby rolls her eyes. 

She has absolutely nothing to do. Her instincts are going crazy as well: your home looks like it needs an alpha. You're not an omega, and you don't need Abby's help, but she feels like she'll go insane if she doesn't fix something. She fights her urges, but after an hour she gives up and sharpens your knives. It makes her feel easier and she can read in peace now. 

You come back in a few hours and sit on the opposite end of your sofa, exhausted. Abby doesn't look at you. 

“Tomorrow I'm supposed to go to the village for my check ups. You'll have to come with me.”

Abby frowns. She doesn't want to show her face in the village - what if some of her former packmates are still around and will notice her? 

“Can your deals wait?” You sigh loudly, annoyed: can this wolf be nice for one fucking minute or is Abby trying to establish some kind of hierarchy in your house?

“I am a healer.” You deadpan, tired of dealing with Abby’s shit. “People need me.” 

“It's not safe for me to show up like this.” Abby scrunches her nose.

“I guess it’s connected to the fact that you were dead yesterday.” You say and Abby can only nod. “I can hide you, if you want. There's a spell that will not let people recognise you if they mean harm.”

Abby coils back. She doesn't want any fucking spells to be put on her! But in a second she clears her head and thinks about it: she clearly doesn’t have a choice if she wants to survive. And you offer her help, so maybe it’s not too bad. 

“How can I know you're not fucking with me?” You blink and Abby tries not to look you in the eyes: you look like an owl. And not in a cute way. 

“Can't you smell if I lie? I know weres can smell emotions. Also, the bond we have can make you feel awful if I try to harm you.”

Abby hums, thinking it over.

“Okay. But if you try any funny business, you're dead.”

“You'll be dead too, idiot.” You roll your eyes at Abby and she rolls hers in return. 

The wolf is kinda annoying. You can understand her distrust, but her threats are getting ridiculous. 

The last step of this strange and mostly unpleasant day is getting ready for bed. You look at your small sofa and try to think how Abby will fit, but the other option is the floor, which you assume she won't appreciate. You give her the choice anyway, Abby looks between the sofa and the floor like it's a hard choice, like she thinks the floor is a valid option. Then she agrees to sleep on the sofa. (I'll turn back if I'm uncomfortable, she tells you.) You bring her a pillow and a few blankets: the nights are getting cold and you usually use your magic to keep the hut warm, but you can slip up when you sleep, and wake up to a freezing house. 

“Why don't you use wood like normal people?” 

“It's too much work. I can find a tree that fell, but you need to chop it, bring it here, chop more, store the logs. Nah. Magic is easier.” 

Abby huffs. 

“So you rely on your magic all the time.”

“And you rely on your senses and strength.” You deadpan. 

Abby doesn't say anything in return, having no valid arguments. You sigh and make a circle with your hand, turning all lights off, and then you show Abby where the candle is in case she needs some light for her reading. Abby nods and you wish each other good night. 

You both can’t fall asleep for a long time, too bothered by each other: you don’t like having Abby in your home after she has been so nasty to you for the reason of “the witch”, and Abby doesn’t like being in your home for the reason of, well, “the witch”. She is alive, and she should be happy, but your presence is a constant threat and she can’t let herself fall asleep. You can’t fall asleep because you feel Abby, her life energy like a giant bright light in your living room and it’s hard to ignore it. You try to meditate but it seems to make you even more energised. 

You fall asleep when it’s so dark you can’t see anything beyond your windows. Abby falls asleep five minutes later.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson #alpha!abby #moon peppers

[nunalastor]

Hi! next part of Snow White + Tangled AU (still taking suggestions for a name, I'll probably end up writing a whole fic)

Alastor was losing his patience.

He never really cared about the "King of Hell", but ever since the little man arrived at the doors of Charlie's hotel, it's just been one disappointment after another.

And, of course, he trusts Roo not to give him valuable information! It's always the same with her, she will only give you enough information to work with, only to punish you if she doesn't like the results, or take credit if you somehow end up doing exactly what she wanted.

At least Charlie wasn't a relevant project for her. But it really would have been useful to know her origins, he could have gotten a lot out of that information. Anyway, it's not that that's important now, he's not going to be bitter about it. After all, so far the results of his decision have been satisfactory.

Honestly, there was a time when he thought Roo could be Charlie's mother, but he ruled it out as time went by. It's a relief, motherhood isn't for everyone, and Roo definitely shouldn't be on that list...just like Queen Lilith apparently.

The first time he saw the king was interesting, he tried to attack him as soon as he saw him after a brief conversation with Charlie. It was so fun to see his daughter putting the little man in his place. But then she explained who she had just kicked out of the hotel and it was just disappointment after disappointment.

In their second meeting, the king was no longer going directly to try to kill him, but that did not make him any less calm. He just kept accusing him of Charlie's kidnapping, which is fair, the king doesn't have to believe him and he doesn't have to justify himself.

He suggested to Charlie that, when the king returned with the supposed evidence he had gone to look for, it should be just her and the king. Charlie was just worried that this situation would change something between them, but he dismissed it, nothing has to change.

From that moment on, Alastor's patience has been tested. The king turned out to be like all the rich men of his time, buying people with trinkets, trying to dazzle everyone with their wealth and power, pampering their legitimate children and only throwing a few coins to their bastards if they remembered that they had.

Alastor has kept his distance. Not only does he want to respect Charlie's limits and her possible relationship with her biological father, he also wants to show her that, unlike the king, he can behave like an adult in this situation. On the other hand, the king, every time he sees him, has to make a conscious effort not to attack him either physically or verbally, and that makes Charlie nervous, which amuses Alastor a little, but mostly makes him uncomfortable. He knows that this whole situation makes Charlie tense, and the little king is not helping with his childish attitude (according to his height, honestly).

What ended his calm was seeing how the little king simply seemed to lose his patience just a couple of months later, dismissing Charlie's ideas and trying to take her away. Simply telling her that her whole idea of a charity hotel would be counterproductive because sinners would only take advantage of her, and anyway, it's not like sinners deserve better, they do horrible things after all, like kidnapping innocent babies and taking them away from them families.

And Alastor simply had enough. He doesn't really care what the king thinks of him, he doesn't want to meet him, and the feeling really is mutual at this point, but after all that talk, saying how much he missed his daughter, he hoped the king would take the time to meet to Charlie instead of just pretending like nothing had happened. As if Charlie had not spent almost 100 years, all of her life, living with sinners, as if she had not spent her entire life learning from him and from those who have surrounded her until now.

The king is not entirely wrong, many of those in hell deserve to be there, it is supposed to be punishment for their decisions, in fact, there are those who deserve worse, but he cannot just so easily dismiss the ideals that Charlie formed by seeing sinners up close.

And, of course, he is not a good person, he has never pretended otherwise. In fact, if he had found any other sinner the day he found Charlie, he would have put them in an oven with the same ease that he put Charlie in her crib every night. If he had found any other sinners, he would have boiled them in a saucepan with the same ease with which he put Charlie in the bathtub when she needed a bath. With any other sinner, he would have written a recipe book as easily as he wrote children's stories he remembered so he would have something suitable to read to Charlie. But the truth is that it was not just any other sinner, it was Charlie, a baby that he decided to take care of with the memories of his mother always in mind. The one he found in a basket was a baby, whom he accompanied, stayed by her side, held her when she screamed and cried because of a nightmare or a minor injury. Whom he educated and guided, who he encouraged to make her own decisions, who he taught how to be respected. Who he took to his friend Rosie to make sure she always had a safe place to go. Whom he watched from afar when she played with other children in the Cannibal Town square. Whom he saw grow up while being just as feared and respected as him by her own means. Who tried to defend him when someone who was his friend for 30 years betrayed him and tried to attack her, which immediately ended their friendship.

It is when he feels the presence of his daughter, hugging him from behind, that he realizes that he said all that out loud. It is when he realizes that the king is there, looking at him with a look that reveals confusion, surprise and horror. The king has not moved from his place next to the portal he opened when he tried to take Charlie, but he notices that he is shaking, while he seems to think of something to say.

Alastor sighs, regains his composure as he walks away from Charlie and approaches the king, and with a snap of his fingers he makes two thick books appear. They are copies of a photo album and a scrapbook. He also makes the basket in which Charlie came into his life appear, with the blanket and clothes included. He gives everything to the king and is firm when he tells him to take the time to get to know Charlie, to stop being a king (if he ever was one), to stop being a wallet and start being a father if it's what he really wants.

The king leaves without saying a word, with all the items held firmly in his arms. If among the pages of the books the king finds the note that told Alastor to take care of the baby, with a characteristic signature, well...no one can refute that Alastor could have simply forgotten that it was there.

Two weeks pass, and Alastor feels a chill down his spine, a chill that is supposed to be a caress, supposed to be a reward for a job well done. He's confused, but at least it didn't backfire on him.

A month passes for the king to appear again. He literally just appeared in Alastor's room, looking haggard, exhausted. Alastor supposes that he can let the impertinence slide just for the pleasure that such a pitiful image brings him.

"Can you tell me about my d...can you tell me about Charlie? Please?"

👀

#hazbin hotel #nunalastor asks #alastor #radioapple #lucifer #snow white #tangled #tangled au

[ruershrimo]

take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 6: beginning

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev

chapter synopsis:

'“Why else do you think I am the way I am? I may be shy and scatterbrained, or a horrible woman with a muddled sense of morality or what I think should and should not happen, when in reality it’s just what I want to happen. But this is why I’m so resolute, and so stubborn. This is why I love you so fiercely. All mothers are like that to some degree, even if my own would never let me bear witness to it.”

You haven’t told her you love her too in years.'

'And Itadori seems… like a good person. I think it’s good, that… you were able to find a friend like that.”

“It was. He’s a really, really good guy.”

“You love him a lot,” Megumi says.

---

You and Megumi set out to prevent an emergency involving Yuuji and a cursed object. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen. But at least everyone is fine in the end, even if it means you'll have to walk away from almost everything (or maybe it's the other way around).

You're going to be all on your own. Still, now it seems like this will hurt less now.

word count: ~8k; tws: none for now :)

17-6-2018 

The two of you walk down the lane. It’s midnight. There’s a loitering silence in the air, no words exchanged between you and him, and it twists your heart in brief moments of hurt when you’re not trying to keep your mind occupied with other things. Your legs move subconsciously without you caring to think of them, the route to the hospital ingrained in your mind as if intrinsically there. 

At some point, you think your hand with its sweat and its grip is going to leave imprints like a marring on his skin, but it’s of your own selfishness that you choose to hold onto his wrist anyway. 

There’s a million things you could say to him right now, things you’ll forcefully push to the very back of your throat, things you’ll keep under lock and key in a mangled mix of quiet anticipation and sombre anxieties. Right now you’re holding his wrist and that’s enough for you, to have him walking behind you if not beside, to be two people near each other— not together— in silence since any conversation is not an option; any conversation could lead to the last spark needed to be fanned into the flame for it to erupt bigger and brighter than ever before. 

If you asked about Tsumiki right now, or why either of them never bothered to speak to you since 2016, it could break you apart, of that you’re sure. And even without words it threatens to do so to you like a chandelier of melting wax candles hanging above you being suspended precariously from the ceiling or light lightning soon to be thrown down mercilessly from the sky. 

“The turning to Sendai Hospital is on the right.” 

“I know the routes better,” you let out, and rather disappointingly it sounds brasher and more derogatory aloud instead of the unobtrusive tone you were aiming for— you hope it doesn’t hurt him but then wonder why you still even cared that much about how he felt about what you said or did anyway, “I got myself accustomed to taking the one on the left that leads you through. Quick shortcut and all.” 

You’re not looking back, but the light pull of his hand from the hold of your wrist seems to suggest his slight reeling back in a small sense of surprise and an equal amount of shock, as if suddenly remembering the fact you were your own person, that you had your own autonomy as one, because somehow everyone thought you weren’t. 

It’s strange to look back at how you were before: meek, timid. Too shy to speak up. Too innocent to be angered by anything. Always dreaming, mind bleary as if on a cloud in blurred skies, hiding behind the backs of others like a petrified forest critter. 

And now you’re this— this person who frowns and disagrees and retorts at every little thing, and as much as you have to, as much as it was nearly inevitable the way you turned out, all you can think you share with the person you were when you first met Megumi and Tsumiki was your need to be useful— and even that has been exacerbated by how you’ve grown, how you’ve become this person you grew into. And a part of you— no, just you as a whole— doesn’t like yourself at all. 

Your father was right. That little girl was hopeful, obedient, kind, caring— you don’t know why even then you were dissatisfied with the way you were, or why your dissatisfaction would matter because at that time you’d cared so little about everything besides caring for people and having fun with the pair of siblings that you were so rarely bothered by it, that it was still just a slight whisper from the back of your head that could be shushed or tuned out with library visits and nights in front of the TV and the glow of old cartoons. Your father was right and this is proved even more by the fact that the whole situation just infuriates you on the surface, and just makes you feel like an empty, hollow shell left behind when you reach deeper into yourself. 

That little girl had potential, potential to be useful but kind, obedient and close to the people who raised her even if it meant abandoning her own ideals. But you’d been so devoted to them, you think, that she was killed and destroyed in the world she grew up in, and now there’s a space for her that’s left vacant due to the way she wasted away. You miss her, the girl you once were, you miss being her, how easy and lighthearted everything was and how all of you felt so content in every sense of the word. But you don’t want her back. Now that’s just what makes you miserable sometimes. 

Self-reflection just made you feel revolted by yourself. You keep your eyes on the road. 

“It’s here,” you state, pointing at the building in front of you. 

Sendai General Hospital is an institution made out of bare concrete. Its walls are yellowed and close in on its wards like a prison, coloured using old paint that hasn’t been repainted over and is as pallid-looking as the skin of the people sitting on the beds it is inhabited by. Just being in it feels like a hit to the body and the brain and the senses, too. There are old-fashioned tiles on its floors, their pale beige hue muted yet the blinding shine on them harshly mopped clean. Inside it reeks of an imminent presence of sickness or death or illnesses and conditions never to be able to be defeated and sterile sanitisers. Looking at the latex-blue curtains in it feels like a blindfold unwantedly, forcefully pulled over both your vision and your ears. 

“You and that Itadori seem close.” 

“We are,” you say, then you add, not really knowing why, “He’s my best friend.” Maybe you’re trying to make him jealous, rile him up a bit. But even then you wouldn’t want him to be riled up, nor would you be satisfied if he were to keep silent. Maybe you just wanted to hurt him, to hurt him back or something, if only for something small, even if you’d already resolved not to do so. 

You’ll make sure not to do that again, though. 

Instead he does something else, takes another route instead. “Then it seems you visit his grandfather often.” 

“Uh-huh,” you nod as the two of you enter the hospital, and you have to blink a few times as always in order to adjust yourself to the light and how it reflects off the detachedly clean floor. “My mother’s here, too.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry— is she alright?” 

“She’s okay, I… think. She… she got sick a while back and stays here now,” you explain, “Let’s not talk about that…—I mean, I… don’t really want to.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to keep saying that.” It just makes people feel worse. 

He doesn’t push further and you suppose that’s okay. Your chest hurts a bit, like phantom pain on a wound that’s still there. There’s not really a way to explain it but almost everything makes you feel that way these days. Everything makes you feel horrible to some degree. Maybe it’s being a girl, maybe it’s being a teenager, but it’s not quite either, you guess. 

“He won’t be here for a while,” you say, “He’s either still in the room where his grandfather is or he’s buying flowers for him.” 

“Then I’ll just contact them and let them know the whole situation first.” 

Who’s ‘them’? 

“Okay.” You turn your back on him, “—wait.” 

“What?” 

“Do you have any emergency contact or something? Like, a trusted adult who could help you with any of this? In case things go really bad?” 

“...why would you need one?” he questions. 

You roll your eyes, “Just give it to me, damn it… if there’s anything I have nowadays, it’s probably foresight for stuff like this. For emergencies.” 

He gives you the number, albeit a bit begrudgingly. Why’d he have to be so pissy about anything and everything? 

“Okay, thanks. I’m going to visit my mother now.” 

The air and the colour from it seems distant as always, the ward she was basically imprisoned in smelling of the indistinguishable mix of sanitiser and sickness. There her body chains her to her bed, and there is little she can do besides rely on and weakly cling to the nurses who assist her, a frail shadow of what she once was. 

“Hi, Mummy.” 

She turns to you, and your chest constricts. Her hair, once much longer, the type that you dreamed to have as it billowed in the wind, the type that invited you caressively to bury yourself in and take in that heady scent of roses that emanated from it— that hair is now replaced with a cloth wrapped around her head. Radiation. Chemotherapy. 

The wrinkles on her face make the difference between her now and her years ago all the more stark. Every visit you come back here, you’ve forced yourself to be acclimated to this new reality, one where she isn’t waiting at home no matter how tedious the fights get or how exhausting it was eating with someone who remained silent, someone who chose to continue suffering if it meant she could hurt and turn her daughter to guilt (as if that would change anything). At least she was there. 

Cancer is a terminal illness, especially the type your mother is facing— regardless of how much chemotherapy she would struggle through and how much you didn’t want to acknowledge a truth so plain and conspicuously bare, she would be confined to this bed until her final days, her illness like gyves tying her limbs and forcing her earthbound; the bed a cage she could never be liberated from. 

Sometimes she made it a point to you that she didn’t want to liberate herself from it anyway, and you’d never been so depressed yet irked by anything else. (You’d regret everything— not spending time with her, not appreciating her nearly enough— except for your decision to be involved in the Jujutsu world, if not as a sorcerer then as a doctor. That was, and is— your ultimatum. Your end all be all of this whole situation.” 

“Hello. Where’s that Itadori boy?” 

“Not here today, he’s still with his grandfather— maybe later.” You swing your bag over your shoulder, rummaging through it a while before pulling it out. “I’ve something for you, by the way.” 

“Oh! These,” she exclaims, and she smiles faintly, bits of colour rushing back to her face like watercolour dots on moistened paper. “I used to make them for you, sometimes. They used to be your favourite when you were really little.” 

“I know,” you explain, “That’s why I made them. I don’t like them anymore, but… I can’t remember your favourite food or if I ever asked, and I know you don’t like the food they give you here as much as… I don’t know. Your own cooking, I guess.” 

“It’s not my favourite,” she states, matter-of-factly, bluntly, “But thank you for the effort. My favourite will always be my own mother’s cooking.” 

Silence. 

“Now that I look back at everything, there are so many things I regret. Things I should have done but never did out of fear; things I should not have done and never apologised for out of pride. I’d like it if you could be different. Your grandmother went out the same way. At least, even if you had the same illnesses as we did, which I hope the genes for which have been curbed by your father’s— at least you would not leave the world with regret,” she looks down at her hands, staring down at them solemnly like a shadow, an excluded figure. “But it was a good life.” 

“...then maybe you can tell me more. While you— while we still have time. What was your childhood like? What was your mother like?” It feels strange, imposturous, maybe— to be referring to someone basically a stranger as “grandmother”, to name someone so far away from you so intimate, even if the only generation between you, tying the two of you together, was your mother’s. If you had a daughter it would be the same for her, most likely. There’s a part of you that would find honour in becoming your mother once you’d grown, but there’s a part of you that would think being such would accost you horribly, for all time. 

She sighs, “I’ll tell you later. There would be so much to say, like compressing all my words into one tiny paper. The stories have weight in them the same way letters and words in handwriting can be firm and large. But if I were to start,” she begins, “I’ll say that I was born as the daughter of two very powerful sorcerers. Now, I know how much this would sound like some nonsense spouted by your mother, but I think you should listen anyway. 

“My parents loved each other a lot, but my mother had come from an obscure clan whose name I can’t remember, but who had high hopes in them having a child with a powerful cursed technique as their last resort, since, if I recall correctly, there had been a crisis within the clan for it to keep surviving. 

“I still remember when they found out I had no cursed technique and how terrified they were. In me I had a bit more than the relatively normal amount of cursed energy most people have, and so I was expected to have techniques as powerful as they did. They loved me and treated me preciously, like a fragile object, so long as I was quiet and demure— and I guess to some extent I still was and still am today. They wondered what they could do to run from the clan, as if they didn’t have enough power when they were supposed to protect me despite my father’s bullheaded industry and my mother’s patience-formed strength. They lacked grit to grapple against them, and only in this did they lack it, I think; only against my mother’s family did they not have the ability to resolve things whether peacefully or violently. And eventually they just gave up and thought they would just… surrender me over when I entered my adolescent years. I was their daughter. I… suppose they didn’t love me enough. I know it sounds awful— thinking that they should have always protected me, through and through—” 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

“—when it could have been the clan itself that would have been mostly to blame.” 

“But they were still supposed to protect you! They were your parents—” 

“Why else do you think I am the way I am? I may be a shy and scatterbrained or a horrible woman with a muddled sense of morality or what I think should and should not happen when in reality it’s just what I want to happen, but this is why I’m so resolute, and so stubborn. This is why I love you so fiercely. All mothers are like that to some degree, even if my own would never let me bear witness to it.” You haven’t told her you love her too in years. 

“But then when I was an adult I met your father, who was a bit like a country bumpkin, but a formidable sorcerer and a kind, honest person, and I couldn’t help but fall in love with the person he was both inside and out. And for the next few years we struggled to have a child until I found out I was pregnant with you,” she continues, “Even though by that time I was well into my late thirties, we were overjoyed and decided to keep you.” 

Suddenly you wish there had been more time before things were ruined. Time for you to know her better, the beginning of your existence. You would have begged her for old photos, stories, mementos of her and your father. 

“And now the clan’s faded into obscurity, finally. The younger members left and the older ones passed away peacefully. Happy story, right?” 

“...yeah.” It all ended well, but you don’t know if you can say the same for your mother’s. At least, you hope, when she goes away, it can be swift and peaceful like the way her relatives did. 

Then suddenly there’s a buzz in your pocket. An inconvenient one, out of the blue. 

“You should go get that first,” she says. 

“...okay.” 

You lift it up to your face and feel like crushing the damn thing. Old number. Stupid number. Number you haven’t called in months because you’d given up on that bastard— oh. The two of you were working together now. 

You turn away from your mother, creeping to the edge of the room. “What’s wrong?” 

“I just talked to him, but I think it would be easier if you came back and was there with him too since you know him better than I do. And he… doesn’t seem like the brightest. He may think that it’s not important enough to hand over unless you ask him to or something.” 

You muffle your voice with your hand and whisper, “Hey, you shut up, you know nothing about him. He’s way smarter than people give him credit for. But I’m— I’m with my mother right now. Wait for a second. Just ask him to wait for me first; he wouldn’t need any of my help for all of this yet. Make a friend or get a life or something.” 

“...fine. But you’ll have to join us later. He’s bound to ask about you.” 

“Then just tell him I’m with my mother!” you snap, still whispering. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Wh— you little— oh, don’t you hang up now—” 

Weird thing is, he probably wasn’t even being so infuriating on purpose. And you wouldn’t have burst out at someone for being that way anyway. It was only because it was him, specifically. 

You’d sworn to put that past you. 

Your immaturity strikes once again. 

“If you have to go now,” your mother says, “You should. Just come back again next time. I can tell you the rest. Thank you again for the food, [Name].” She doesn’t call you ‘darling’ anymore, doesn’t she? Just your name. 

“Okay. Sorry.” 

You swing the bag back over your shoulder, wearing it this time instead of taking it off, easing your way out of the room. 

“It’s okay,” she assures you, “Goodbye. I love you.” 

“...I love you, too,” you say, but it’ll mingle with all the other sounds in the hospital, and it’ll be drowned out like a ship in the middle of nowhere, your voice soft and thoroughly soused by the cacophony of bleak noises like telephone rings and beeps from electrocardiographs outside of her deafeningly quiet hospital room. 

“Hi, Yuuji,” you greet them in the dimly lit waiting area, “...and Megumi. Sorry to keep the two of you guys waiting for so long.” 

“Oh, hey; it’s okay!” he goes, although in his voice it seems that there’s been some of his usual energy seeping away from him. “Didn’t know the two of you knew each other until just now or that you were a part of some magic curse society. Are you guys childhood friends who met because of all that cursed stuff or something?” 

“Something like that,” Megumi explains. 

“It’s a long story,” you say, not exactly denying him nor conceding his words anyway. Once again, there’s a trace of anger despite your promise to be untethered to your puerility like this. “Anyway, are you okay, Yuuji? How’s your grandfather?” 

He pauses. “Oh, about that… he just passed away.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Yuuji…” you hold the fabric of his jacket (sometimes it still feels wrong to try and hold his hand— it just makes your heart ache again like a scab being clawed at) and pull him into a brief caress, patting his back as gently as you can manage. 

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine,” he smiles as you pull yourself away, “Grandpa wouldn’t want me to be crying right now anyway. So don’t worry.” 

“Okay, I won’t. But if you’re sad, just know you can always talk to me.” 

He laughs, softer than the boisterous manner he usually does so in, “Yeah, I know.” 

Megumi clears his throat, pointedly trying to make a sound, “Anyway. Itadori Yuuji—” 

“Just call him Itadori. You don’t have to be so uptight.” 

“Nah, [Name], I’m fine—” 

Megumi sighs. “Anyway, we need you to give the cursed object now.” 

“Oh, yeah, that,” you start, “So, Yuuji, do you have the thing that Megumi would have explained to you? The cursed object? We need it for everyone to be safe, and all.” 

“Yeah! Hold on, let me get it. I told you I didn’t have it already, but here’s the box,” he says, tossing it over to Megumi. 

He retrieves the box. It’s ancient and wooden, the craftsmanship behind it elite and adroit, and the paper on it has the words for a buddhist sutra written on it like an inscription. You’ve heard of it before, the kind of curse it was meant to seal, but it definitely couldn’t be— 

He opens the box. 

Holy shit. 

“Where is it?” 

“It’s empty…” Megumi panics, “Wait— hold on!” 

Things are bad— as in, they couldn’t get any worse— not only was the school doomed by the loss of its cursed object, the cursed object was Sukuna Ryomen’s finger itself. 

You blame your inadequacy, your inability to have stopped everything sooner— if not for that nobody would have gotten hurt. If not for that there wouldn’t even be a risk of anything happening anyway. You should’ve tried harder to sense it, and you should’ve focused more on it to keep the student body safe and sound. 

It was your fault. No one else was to blame but your useless self, and even if that were wrong, you’d still have the most to be blamed for. 

Megumi has a hand on Yuuji’s shoulder, keeping the other boy from moving, his breathing erratic and his eyes wide in frantic shock. 

“...well, they were saying, ‘let’s open it up to see what’s inside it tonight’,” Yuuji clarifies, standing a few centimetres away from the door, “Why? Is that bad?” 

Sasaki and Iguchi? 

The air in the hospital feels particularly chilly tonight, gooseflesh terrorising your skin all over, and for all the kinds of reasons that would cause anything like such. 

“It’s way worse than bad,” Megumi declared, fear and grim so thick in his voice they were tangible enough to be cut through with a knife. “Your friends are going to die.” 

“We’ve got to go,” you rush, “Now! Quick!” 

It passes by like a blur, as if you’re in that moment and out of it simultaneously. Your mind has been bombarded with and pressed so thoroughly onto the moment, like tissue on a wet surface, that it seems it’s being blanked out, while your legs continue to run despite your mind nearly forgetting, at this point, why you’re running— as if your legs moving so frantically to help them was something intrinsic, something you didn’t need your mind for. 

Sasaki and Iguchi are in danger. Sasaki and Iguchi are in danger. 

You didn’t know them all too well, really— just through Yuuji, and Yuuji himself wasn’t as close to the two of them, being their junior and all. And although a part of you was doing this just because you could, like the way you did when you first discovered your cursed technique, you knew that another was doing this for Yuuji. If in any way they were hurt or could not survive, he would blame himself to no end. He possessed such a kindness within him, so much that it hit the depths of your soul sometimes; shattered your heart so gently a million times over or heated it in the kindly way mothers heated pans on stoves despite the heat of it being greater than that of blue flame. If anything happened to them, no matter how much or how little he knew of them, he wouldn’t be able to live after that. 

The two of them are near the barrier separating the school from the street before you (you struggle with catching up to them— one’s a star athlete and another has been training for much longer than you, you’re sure), the gates tall and enveloped in darkness. You didn’t think much of school except for when it came to your grades and being with Yuuji, thinking of these gates— the ones that you and Yuuji use when you’re running super late— in particular as just a shortcut entrance you paid little attention to, just something treated with indifference as you passed through them whenever you were late. Yet now they echoed denial, refusal, and slim chances— it was unlikely that they’d be alright, especially since this cursed object in particular was the finger of Sukuna Ryomen. 

“Is that the building?” Megumi questions, “Where are they?” 

“Fourth floor— guh!” Yuuji seems to come to an abrupt halt, nearly slamming into what seems to be an invisible wall. A veil. 

“Yuuji!” 

“I’ll handle this,” Megumi declares, hopping onto the metal wires, more directed to Yuuji than you. So even he can tell how selfless Yuuji is, even after only having just met him. 

“I may not know those two that well, but—” Yuuji starts, “But they’re friends! I have to help!” 

“You’re staying here,” Megumi commands, “[Name], if you could— get your father or any sorcerers you know to come here and help.” 

He climbs over the gate. 

He’s going away from you again. Slipping away from your grasp. And now, all you can do is watch. There’s nothing else— nothing else you can do, at all. If you went inside now, you wouldn’t be able to help except— what?— tend to their injuries? Manipulate your own cells into weapons? The former wasn’t possible with how much you’d strained yourself from running so quickly earlier, and the latter was too dangerous: you hadn’t even started with the basics of that yet, on your father’s obstinate insistence that even if he’d let you play doctor he wouldn’t let you manipulate any of the cells in your body into any kind of usable weapon. Any simple wrong move could make things turn south in the most drastically terrifying of ways. If you went in there, you’d just die, and there’d be more casualties, more trouble, more problems caused by you and you alone. 

You can’t even call your father, either. That would always be your last resort— because even if you fought, you still needed him to rest. You didn’t want him overexerting himself by using his cursed technique at all. 

(You were selfish. You didn’t want to lose your father. You didn’t want to have to visit not one but two parents lying sick and tired and grey in matching hospital beds.) 

“Yuuji?” you start, turning to him. “You’re…deathly quiet. Are you okay?” 

His lips quiver slightly, a faint whimpering noise coming out of him. Is he crying? 

“Yuuji, look at me. Are you okay?” you ask, as gently and softly as you can right now, despite your ragged, unsteady, unathletic-addled breaths. You place a hand on his shoulder, slowly rubbing up and down from his shoulder and crook of his neck to his back. “It’s okay. …Megumi’s a good and… capable, strong person and jujutsu sorcerer. He’ll be okay, and they’ll be okay too. Just… just put your trust in him, okay?” 

“I’m sorry, [Name], but I’ve got to go,” he tells you, “You stay here, and call for help or something. I’m sorry, but I’ve just really got to do it!” 

He hugs you, quickly, deftly. And then he crosses the gate, leaving you all alone like Megumi did. You wish he’d hug you longer, that you could take care of him for a little longer— it was your last way to be useful now. 

Still, there’s someone you could call, now that you remember him.

The emergency contact. 

You snatch your phone out, resolute. 

“Hello! Gojo Satoru speaking,” the voice on the other line says. 

You’ve heard it plenty before by accident. 

When Gojo and Megumi are back, Yuuji’s in the form of a figure slung over Gojo’s shoulders like he’s been reply entrenched into slumber, his body seemingly limp and his torso completely bare. There’s barely an ounce of movement in him, except for slow exhales and inhales you can see on his chest. Sasaki and Iguchi are both nearly the same, the former covered in bruises and in a deep, panicked haze, and the latter as asleep as Yuuji seemed to be while harbouring injuries he may never recover from. 

The only non-roughed up one here is Gojo, it seems; Megumi has a stream of blood running from the top of his head in rivulets, staining his sweaty, scraped forehead. 

“Wh— you two, what happened? Why are they all asleep? What happened to Yuuji? Are they okay? What—” 

“Calm down, kid,” Gojo says, “They’ll be fine. I mean, there’s a 100% chance that your friend can be executed, but…” 

“Executed?” you almost scream, “What the hell happened? You said things would be okay!” 

“Uh-uh, again, calm down. I mean, we don’t even know when they’re gonna make him kick the bucket! He ate Sukuna’s finger, by the way.” He holds his arms up in faux surrender. 

“Gojo you ignorant slut! Don’t you fucking dare tell me to ‘calm down!’ He ate Sukuna’s finger? Why weren’t you able to stop anything? What’s going to happen to him now? You know what— give him to me!” 

“You know, it’s not like I’m scared of being hunted down by your father if you use your cursed technique— I mean, I’m leagues stronger than him— but the stuff was too strong. It’s not like you’ll be able to get rid of the finger in your little boyfriend.” 

“He’s not her boyfriend!” Megumi interjects.

“Thank you, Megumi!” Your face is going hot like a campfire fanned by the wind. 

“Oh?” Gojo adds, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Anyway, we’re going to get him to a place where we can cover everything with talismans to surround him.” 

They’re going to execute him at Jujutsu High after.  

“I’m coming with you.” 

“You sure?” Gojo asks, “Your father isn’t going to like you travelling so far away without telling him.” 

Megumi shifts, a little sombre. “[Name], you don’t have to.” 

“...I’m doing this for Yuuji, not for you.” 

“You okay?” Gojo asks while the three of you are back in the hospital. (You hate this building so much.) Iguchi’s been transferred to a ward, Sasaki having woken up and insisting on staying with him. “I’ve got kikufuku if you want some. You must be really tired since it’s so late, huh?” 

The whole situation is so incredulous you’re unsure of whether you want to burst out laughing or dismember someone. 

“...nothing. Wait, let me see Yuuji again.” 

Everyone is asleep, it seems— all except for you and Gojo. Yuuji’s been knocked out, and Megumi’s stuck in the world of his dreams. 

You can’t sleep. There’s just nothing to put your mind at rest. 

At least if there’s one thing you can do it’s this. 

Gojo picks him up by the sides of his torso (now temporarily clothed with a spare white shirt) like a child with a heavy book. “Woah— he’s pretty heavy for a fifteen year old kid.” 

You lay Yuuji face-up on the line of hospital chairs. There are thin scarlet marks right under his eyes— Sukuna’s eyelids, you’ve been told. 

You should’ve done more to protect him. 

Slowly, reticently, you kneel by the side of the chairs. You press your fingertips onto that pair of thin tiny lines. 

Nothing happens. You can’t picture his cells being able to grow back. It’s as if there’s been a slit on his face and its outline has been replaced with brand-new skin. His cells don’t budge. 

“Why don’t you help Megumi? I bet he’s got plenty of healable injuries.” 

“…I don’t think I’ll be able to help much. I could faint if I try helping him now. It’s better to leave it to Dr Ieiri or something.” 

“Pft,” he scoffs, “Shoko? She’s definitely not going to heal all of him. It’ll just be a waste of her time. You can just help him with the tiny scrapes and bruises first. And I’ll even tell her that you did it. She’s really fond of you, you know.” 

You give him a shy, modest smile. “Thanks, then.”

It’s time to get to work. 

Megumi’s skin is smooth like a baby’s just like the last time you felt it, though the frown on his face, ever-present, is bound to cause wrinkles there in less than a few decades’ time. You place your hands on him, bruised and bloody, watching in your mind and directing his cells as they work. 

Once the smaller injuries have been dealt with, you stop. “I can’t really work on the one on his head, since then you’d get another fainted person to carry around, but he should be fine with some bandages and patching-up there, because I’ve already kind of catalysed the start of that area’s healing process a little. Other than that, he should be completely fine. I’ll give it, say… two weeks or so for it to get better completely.” 

“Good work!” he smiles, the outline of his cheeks visible on his blindfold. 

“By the way, Mr Gojo…” 

“You know, I appreciate the respect you’re giving me now, but just Gojo is fine.” 

“Okay, Gojo. Do you think Yuuji will be okay?” 

“I mean, I’m pretty sure. And I’m going to ask them to suspend his sentence. I’ll just see whether he wants that or not once he wakes up.” 

“That’s the thing. I’m not sure if he even will.” 

Gojo laughs. “Don’t worry. He was really strong, and able to switch between being possessed by Sukuna and being himself at will. We haven't seen that kind of talent in a millennia! I’m sure they’ll listen to me, anyway.” 

“Thank you,” you sigh. Thank goodness. “If you need any type of payment, um… teleport to my house whenever you get inconvenient little cuts like bruises and stuff. I can help.” 

“Nah, reverse cursed technique’s got me covered.” 

“Oh, wait— I forgot about that— um… I can…”

“Just leave it to me! No payment required,” he exclaims, holding both thumbs up. “And for the record, the one who wanted to save Yuuji was actually Megumi.” 

You wouldn’t have imagined that would happen. Megumi— pragmatic, serious, unkind when he needs to be (no matter how kind of a person he actually is— no, was— at heart), different from Tsumiki in so many ways. There was no way he would have been the one vouching for Yuuji, someone he’d only just met, to be spared. 

“Really?” you ask, “I… wouldn’t have thought he was the one who would do it. I thought, maybe, you were just… really kind tonight or something…”

“Well, maybe it was because he saw how much you cared about Itadori and did it for you, or maybe he had met Itadori, liked him, and just wanted to save a good person,” Gojo suspects, “But if there’s one thing for sure it’s that your old friend saved your new one.” 

“...oh.” 

You’ll have to bring it up with him next time— maybe, if he’s still there tomorrow…

“I know you’re mad at him, but a lot has happened,” Gojo states, voice lower, softer like a schoolteacher’s, “Still, I won’t tell you that you have to give him a chance or any of that. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to thank him or anything. I’m sure he did it out of his own volition without expecting anything from you. He knew he probably didn’t deserve to if it were you.” 

You pause. “No, it’s just… I’ll talk to him again the next time I see him. Alone, most likely. And I can figure something out. I think that would be the best way to go around things. Thank you, Gojo.” 

18-6-2018 

The aftershocks are still there, although you’ve come out unscathed. 

Last night was a mingled mess, a blur. You’d tried your best to help Iguchi by the time Yuuji was placed in the room of talismans and you could come back to the hospital and visit, but in the end he still needed better help than that. His injuries were too large of scale for how you were at that moment, already tired after healing some of the numbers done on Megumi. 

(You were useless. You couldn’t help anyone. You couldn’t prevent Yuuji from being hit with such soul-striking guilt., couldn’t help Sasaki from being traumatised, couldn’t help Iguchi enough for him to be back at school soon—) 

Sasaki’s injuries were limited to bruises and scrapes, but though you could help her physically, there was nothing you could do to assist her emotionally. 

You stayed with them for a few hours in the ICU and then one of the hospital wards (a floor under your mother’s), your father calling you once the sun had risen. 

“Gojo Satoru told me about everything that happened.” 

“Yeah. I know you’ll scold me, but… not now. I’m sorry, I’m just really tired.” You hang up. 

For all you spoke of wanting to be useful, the night when your powers were needed the most was when you were at your most useless— you couldn’t help them, you couldn’t help attack the cursed spirits, and the only thing you could do was call for an adult’s help like a little, scared and helpless girl. 

You needed to train, and train harder than you had been doing for the past few years. 

There’s a knock on the door, a dot-dot-dot-dot-dot. dot dot. It’s Yuuji, you know it is. How ever could you not? 

Timidly, movements quiet like the room itself, you pull the door knob, seeing him there, relatively unscathed. You sigh in relief, a moment’s respite before you return to the panic you had been living in before since you deserve the respite less than other people do— no, you don’t deserve such a break at all, you’re absolutely sure of that, not after what you pulled, how horribly and utterly useless you were, you’ll remind yourself of that again and again and again— the heart-piercing guilt and the worry and the constant need to care for the people around you, almost like a mother, maybe, but you don’t like that thought as much as you think you should. Maybe if your own mother knew, she’d disagree— maybe she’d tell you that you should be a mother, maybe she’d ignore that you were also a child at certain times— the most convenient ones, probably. When she thinks it good that you, a child, were someone’s caretaker because women should take pride in and appreciate that, she would encourage you to be one; when she thinks it bad that as a caretaker and a so-called ‘adult’ you can have your own autonomy, agency and opinions, then maybe she’d remind you that in her eyes you knew nothing of the world. But maybe, just maybe, there was also a chance that she wouldn’t be like that in any way. 

But you wouldn’t put it past her. 

“Yuuji, are you okay?” There are questions about to spill out of you, tears about to fall like gushing rivers, but you’re just happy he’s alive at this point. 

“Yeah.” His voice is soft. Your chest twinges; it hurts like an awful, intransigent little bruise. “Hi, [Name].” It feels so unignorable, the way it’s filled with such sorrow and worry that it weighs his usually loud and boisterous voice down. 

“I thought that—” you start, lips trembling, “I thought there was a chance I couldn’t lose you. The only thing I could do was—” you sniffle, “Hope that they could delay it or something.” 

“Yeah. I’ll explain it later,” he says, his voice sincere. 

You squeeze the wrist of his sleeve. “Don’t do things like that ever again,” you plead, “Promise me that at least.” 

“I promise.” 

“And keep your promises.”

“I will.” 

“...want to come inside?” 

He walks inside, and you step back to make way for him. 

“Sorry I came so late,” he says to you and Sasaki, who shakes her head in reassurance. “Hello, Sasaki,” he greets, “Is Iguchi okay?” 

They speak for a while— you don’t feel like it’s much of your right to join their conversation, since you did nearly nothing at all when they were most in danger, so you leave them be for a while. It would be better not to bother them right now, anyway. They’ve both been traumatised until it reached beneath their bones within the past twenty-four hours. 

When you leave the hospital, Sasaki tells you that she’s going to stay. You tell her to take care, squeezing her hand one final time. 

You let her, patting her on the back. You’ll call them later— she’d given you her contact— just to check on the two of them. 

“Where’s Megumi?” you ask Yuuji. 

“Oh, Fushiguro? I’m not too sure, but that Gojo guy said he’ll be there soon.” 

“Where, though?”

Sheepishly, in peak Yuuji fashion, he scratches the back of his neck. “Actually, another reason why I came here was also because… I mean, I know you and him weren’t close, but I’m going to the place where they’ll keep Grandpa’s ashes, and I think… you know, you could come with me. I… I don’t think I’d be able to do it really well alone, even though he had definitely made it clear he seriously didn’t want me moping around after his death and all. Gojo and Megumi will probably be there, but I thought it would be better if you were there because I know you better than those two, and you’re my friend. So… could you come with me? I know that he never really showed it, but I think he had always liked you a lot. Like, he was happy we were friends and stuff.” 

“...mhm. I’ll always be happy about that,” you tell him, before pulling him into a hug. The guy must need one right now. You’ve never hugged him before. Your heart hurts. 

The air is hot and humid with the breath of summer, bundles of mosquitoes bound to be breeding new ones these next few weeks. Up in the sky is the sun, bold and bright, glaring down harshly at the two of you. 

“Before he passed away, Grandpa actually said something. He… kind of cursed me, if I’m being honest,” Yuuji starts. “He said I was a strong kid, so I should help people. And I’m going to do that. So that was why when Gojo asked if I wanted to be executed immediately or just eat all the fingers before dying, I chose the second option. I… I think I want to help people that way.” 

‘You’ve already helped people enough. You helped me,’ you almost tell him. 

You frown, because that’s the only thing you can do right now. You search for words to say the same way you do looking for dog books in libraries chock-full with those of other genres. “I’m… disappointed, I— I know I should be grateful, grateful that you’re still going to be alive and all, but… you’re still going to be in danger, and you’re still going to be executed one day. I mean, again, I know I should be happy you’re going to have more time alive and that I can still see you, but what if things don’t go as planned? What if you lose control of yourself once you reach, like, the fifth finger or something?” 

You’re selfish like that. In a way, you’re just the way your mother is. You should’ve always known— you were her beloved daughter after all, and the people you know would be loved the same way she did you since the day she knew of your existence, and maybe even before that. 

“Don’t worry,” he grins, wide as always. Even in an over-enveloping darkness he still manages to be the light. “I’ll be just fine. I’m a strong kid, after all. And we’ll always be friends!” 

Gojo asks if he and Yuuji can talk in private for a while. You wonder if this was how your mother felt as she had to give the person she loved most away (but you will have to go away, one day), because you can briefly tell what Gojo is going to ask. You wonder if she felt this twice. 

Yuuji can’t stay with you forever. In the same way you can’t remain by your mother and father’s sides for all eternity. 

This won’t be the last time you’re here, you think. For a place of death, it’s quite a bit beautiful how there’s such large masses of grass and plants surrounding it. 

Megumi nearly walks past you, his eyes on the old photographs of the deceased all around him. 

“Megumi.” 

He turns around. 

“I just wanted to thank you for wanting to save my friend, even if you may not have wanted to do it for me, specifically… um… I didn’t expect that you’d still be here. Are your injuries okay?” 

“I’m okay,” he answers you. “And also, I…” he hesitates, the first time he’s talked to you for something actually related to the two of you in a long time— nearly two years if you’re counting correctly, but the thoughts in your head are a bit too jumbled to count at the moment. “I didn’t really do it for you, though. It… it was for Tsumiki.” 

“Oh.”

“Wait! I’m sorry, that didn’t… come out right. But I should also apologise for something else. You wouldn’t have been thrown into this world anyway if not for my own demon dogs years ago.” 

“No, no, it wasn’t your fault. And I would have wanted to be in it anyway. There’s not many who can heal other people and all, so I just thought… even if I can’t do as much yet, since I don’t have reversed cursed technique and the drawbacks that come from mine are really bad, I can still help people sometimes if they’re dealing with relatively minor injuries. I can, um… make things easier for people. I can be useful like that. I’d keep to it anyway, because I’m stubborn, but… yeah. It wasn’t your fault, really.” 

“Okay. That’s good to hear.” 

“Yeah. Anyway, I’m happy to know that Tsumiki is okay.” 

Silence again for a while. The air turns a little more sombre, and a lot more awkward. 

“She is. And Itadori seems… like a good person. I think it’s good, that… you were able to find a friend like that.” 

“It was. He’s a really, really good guy.” 

“You love him a lot,” Megumi says. 

“I do. He’s a really good friend. If there’s something I’ll always know I know that, at least.” 

“I can see that. It doesn’t seem like he loves you back in the same way, though.” 

“...wow. Way to be blunt, Megumi. And yes, I do know that, too.” 

“Let’s just… change the subject.” 

“You’re the one who introduced it in the first place.” 

“Okay. How… how are you?” 

“I’m good. Wait, I think you should… go back to them. Maybe they’ll need you there right about now. He’s probably going to have to go to Jujutsu High, right?” 

He pauses. “Yeah. I’m sorry, [Name].” 

“No, no. That’s okay. I expected it. It’s just that I’ll miss him a lot,” you tell him, “He took care of me, kind of. You know I’ve always been a bit of an awkward or shy person, but he still approached me since I was new and we ended up hitting off as friends, kind of. We did a lot of stuff together.” 

Sounds pretty familiar, huh. 

“If you want I can make sure he’s safe for you.” 

“...you should be able to do that regardless of whether it’s my wish for you to do so or not…” you state, “But that would help, I guess. And I’m sorry for my attitude towards you for the past few hours or so. Thank you again.” 

“...I’m sorry I never spoke to you for so long, by the way,” he says abruptly. ‘By the way’? Classic Megumi… 

“I could tell you were. It’s… it’s okay. The two of you kind of have a habit of doing that.” 

All your rage, your loneliness, your feelings of abandonment— and this is all you can do. This is all you can say. You can only just let it go, in the end. 

“I’ll explain it all one day.” 

“You don’t have to if it’s hard.” 

He stays. “No, I will. I promise. And I promise I’ll start to talk to you again, as well. I was just… scared of a few things, maybe.” 

“That’s okay.” 

The two of you aren’t quite friends again yet, but it’ll happen soon. Maybe. And even if it doesn’t, you’re finally able to say, with an open, honest heart, that that doesn’t matter as much anymore. 

“I guess this is goodbye again, then.” 

“Not really.” 

“Oh, right— promise to keep in touch, okay? My patience is running thin with you,” you chuckle at that last part, attempting to joke and make things lighter again. 

“Promise.” 

“I’m going to go home now, by the way. Please tell Yuuji that I wish him the best and I’ll visit when I have my own money to visit Tokyo and all.” 

“I will.” 

“And help me say goodbye to him for me,” you add, “Hope that’s not too much for you to do. Sorry for the trouble. It’s just that I’d actually just about cry if I had to do it in real time right in front of him. Be good to him and be good friends, okay? Keep that promise, at the very least. That’s the one thing that I wish for the most.” 

“Bye, Megumi.” You turn back in the direction opposite of his. 

“Wait—!” 

His hand is on your wrist. Now you’re in front of him, like yesterday, and he’s holding your wrist, albeit a bit gentler than the way he used to pull it a whole eight years ago. 

His eyes are cast away from you, slightly avoidantly and in a way that’s a bit abashed. “I’ll miss you, [Name].” 

“It won’t even feel like I’m not there,” you say. Though his grip is slightly tight, he loosens it as soon as you try to slide it up, as if he’d let you be free of it if you want him to. 

You squeeze his hand instead, turning to face him. It feels warm. It feels like there’s blood coursing through you, the sensation more tender and tangible than it’s ever been. 

“Goodbye.” 

“Goodbye, [Name]. I’ll… I’ll call.” 

“Thank you.” 

Now you’re the one slipping away from his grasp. You move your hand away and walk back. The door slides open. 

2010. Springs, summers, autumns, winters. Hands on wrists, a back faced to your eyes, wide with innocence. Warmth and laughter and happiness and love. Days coloured with vibrant hues and time spent with dog books and in libraries. Frowns were greeted with smiles. Hesitance was non-existent. You didn’t feel a need to compensate for your uselessness. You were a child. You didn’t feel useless at all. You just felt this: a constant leaping in your heart, the corners of your mouth twisting up into a juvenile grin, braiding someone’s beautiful brown hair and tying it with a pretty cherry hair tie. 

You want to cry as you walk back home. 

You’re pretty sure you do. 

taglist:

@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored

(please send an ask/state in the notes if you'd like to join! if I can't tag your username properly, I've written it in italics. so sorry for any trouble!)

#ohhh my goodness i'm so sorry this took so long #aaa but life's going to get very busy quite soon #so i just decided to post the next two chapters on tumblr first because writing chapter 8 and posting it on ao3 will take a while.... #take me back (take me with you) #jjk megumi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #megumi fushiguro #megumi #fushiguro megumi #megumi fluff #megumi angst #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x fem!reader #fem!reader #ruer writes #megumi x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #megumi imagine #adding more tags this time hope it works out #fanfiction #jjk fanfiction

[solarisfortuneia]

a heavily edited repost from my old writing acc (i could've done so so much better but i gave up after staring at it for thirty minutes lmao but hey, i like it better than i did the first time. that's something, right?)

ft. figure skater kaeya and ice skating <3

“y’know, kaeya, considering the fact i’m a disaster on the ice, i feel like these skating sessions aren’t too bad.” 

“you are a disaster, and not just on the ice,” he agrees, and a hand gently cradles your face. “i’ve seen you hit your head on a lamp post right in front of you while walking on solid ground.”  

“you’re supposed to say i’m graceful, dammit.”

“oh?” his eye twinkles with barely concealed mirth, and the corners of his lips curl up into a fond smile. without warning, he pulls on your cheek, and his smile widens to a grin as you glare at his actions. he lets go with a laugh.  “my apologies, then, graceful one. please, do show me what you can do.” he makes a show of stepping aside, gesturing to the ice. 

you step inside the rink, fairly confident in your ability to at least stay upright.

kaeya’s taught you quite a bit over the past week, ever since you asked him to teach you properly. you're no match for a figure skater, obviously, but you’ve got this, at least as far as skating straight on the ice goes.

kaeya breezes by you, twirling and spinning from the minute he enters. his long hair is braided, fringe pulled back, forehead exposed for once. sunflower earrings dangle brightly from his earlobes— a gift you picked out for him on his birthday. the bright yellow stands out beautifully against his tanned skin and navy hair. 

he gains momentum, then leaps into the air, twirling with incredible grace and landing in a graceful arc.

“show off,” you huff. he sends you a wink and a flying kiss at your words. curse him and his professional figure skating training.

you turn away to concentrate on your own movements, and a bulb slowly lights up in your head. 

you’ve seen him do tricks like that multiple times; why couldn’t you attempt a simple spin yourself?

choosing what you think is an appropriate starting point, you skate in a straight line, picking up speed and building up momentum similar to what you’ve seen kaeya do before trying to do a little spin on the ice. 

in your very delusional mind’s eye, you visualize yourself performing it perfectly. though, contrary to your expectations, you do not twirl like a figure skater. you do not twirl with grace and precision.

oh, no, no, no.

you crash into the railing like an undignified bird learning to fly. 

you groan in pain, slumping down, your back flat on the ice. the cold seeps through your thick jacket, but you cannot be bothered to get up. your head throbs, and you’re pretty sure you’ll wake up to a bruise waving hello in the morning. 

barely a moment passes before he’s by your side. “my love, who told you to do that?” he asks, his usually humorous tone as serious as you’ve ever heard it.  his concerned gaze runs over you once, twice, thrice, brows knitted in worry. he checks for bruises, for sprains, and for fractures with practiced swiftness. his fingers grip your face gently, before easing you into a sitting up position. 

“—and with such horrible form too,” he tuts playfully, after he’s deemed you alright. 

you swat at him. heat rushes to your cheeks and you bury your face in his shoulder. he laughs, far too loudly than what the situation called for, prying you from his chest so he could look you in the eyes.

“this is why spins like that are better attempted when one has experience, darling.” he kisses the tip of your nose. 

you groan in response. “i wanted to try it, okay? don’t tease me.”

“okay, okay, i won’t,” he holds his hands up in mock-surrender. “if it’s any consolation, at least this was much, much better than your first attempt.” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist, and hoisting you to your feet. “you lasted a whole twenty minutes before crashing. well done, love.”

you swat at him again.

#—🖋 #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗ #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya fluff

[rokomoi]

.•*between lovers*•.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･ ⠄ ･

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･ ⠄ ･

pairing: gunwook x reader.

synopsis: he stood still in the beach, reminiscing about the moments he had with you.

now playing: for lovers-lamp.

disclaimer: english isn’t my first language, apologies in advance for any grammatical mistakes and errors. no pronouns nor skin colour will be mentioned.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･ ⠄ ･

love. the most beautiful emotion that we, human beings can feel once finding the right person, our future loved ones. But sometimes, it could be harmful. Almost what drugs do to you, you get the dopamine hit for a couple of hours, days and perhaps for a long time but then it fucks you up in the most horrendous ways.

“Angel?” I called out to you in a comforting tone. Your humming in response felt like honey dripping, sweet but too much of it could kill me. A chuckle left me as my eyes turned into crescent moons from how hard I was smiling from the expression on your face that I adored and loved kissing so much. I watched how your eyebrows came together in the front to form a frown and your lips pursing outwards and making a cute little scowl, after receiving a soft punch in the shoulder from you, I cleared my throat and my hand travelled on their own to catch your cold hand in mine, much smaller in comparison than mine and rising it up towards my lips and planting a small kiss on the pinks knuckles.

“Can you promise me something?” I murmured. A questioning hum erupted from me, my gaze softening and I tilted my head to the side a little as I observed how your head slowly moved up and down in a hesitant manner, I couldn't blame you since I had just interrupted your break day from school and invited myself over for a small ‘at-home date’ since it's been a hot minute since I've last seen you.

“If…anything goes wrong with us, promise me to always be by my side,” I whispered. I sucked in my lower lip and started to slowly nibble on it, as thoughts about the future started coming in and crashing down on me like a horrible tsunami. I blinked away the tears that started to moisten my eyes, I let my head drop and hang low as I stared at my lap since I didn't want you to see me crying because I've always made myself appear strong and in front of you and never emotional so I didn't give you anymore struggles in life.

“Gunwook…don’t cry” my ears picked on the shuffling noise of your clothes as you moved around to be closer to me, I inhaled a sharp breath in and your small hand squeezed my own tighter, a gesture you would always do whenever you saw me getting nervous. The tip of my nose started turning red and felt like it was burning, the same thing my eyes were currently doing as I let a tear drop down, then another and then another until my shoulders started to shake and vibrate. I felt your other hand grabbing a soft hold of my left cheek and forcing me to look up at you through blurry eyes, your finger working its best and over to wipe at the new warm tears falling.

“I promise you, I'm here and I'll always be here with you, my gunwook…”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･ ⠄ ･

“Gunwook! You know I'm scared!” I laughed at your whining as you stood at least thirty feet away from the ocean I was currently swimming in with a bunch of others. I shook my head as I slowly swam all the way over to you and got out of the cold ocean and I hissed at the burning sunshine that was hitting me, I shook my head from side to side to get all the excess water from my black locks, sweeping them backwards with my hands to get them out of the way as my wet feet sank underneath the sand and some sticking onto my feet as I finally reached to where you were. Towering over you and blocking you from the crazy sunlight hitting your face which made your scowl even worse under that beige sunhat you had one. “I know, angel. But don't you think it's time you get over that fear slowly by…you know…swimming?” I said softly. Making sure to keep my voice soft and warm like I was convincing a child to go to the doctor, but instead, I was doing it out of love and since you've talked about wanting tovercome your fear of the ocean and learn how to swim since…the number of tsunamis happening this year is quite alarming, to say the least.

“I know but…” you trailed off. I hummed at you, arching one of my eyebrows at you as I stood beside you and swung an arm over your shoulder my other hand going to rest on my hip as we both looked over the waves crashing and people swimming underneath the umbrella. “I just don't…think I'm ready yet, Wookie” you whispered, I lowered my head to glance at you and only found you doing that bad habit of fiddling around with your clothes whenever you were scared, a small scoff escaped through my lips as I placed both of my hands firmly on your cheeks and turning you to face me and look up at me. “You can do it…do not absolutely feel pressured into doing something you're not uncomfortable with, got it angel?” I said in a stern voice. The left corner of my mouth curved up into a small victorious smirk as you nodded along to my words, I snickered to myself before bending my knees down to a certain height to be able to do the thing I loved the most which was me, crashing my lips onto yours in a kiss that was filled with love, passion and feelings, just like the movies and books I've always read and seen. Just as I pulled away and stared at your shiny eyes that held stars within them, a faint string of saliva connected both of us as I tried to regularise my breathing, my head snapped towards the ocean as I heard a blood-curling scream coming from the direction, I frowned as I couldn't see anything since people were all scrambling around and grabbing their belongings which made me even more confused as I held onto your hands and firmly grasping it until my knuckles turned white. Then it hit me…harder than ever as I saw waves, big waves and the water rising, a tsunami was happening. I gulped down the saliva built up as I turned to face you, trying to keep my nonchalant face on so I would not panicky you any further.

“Go back to the car, I'll get our belongings and no buts angel…I love you so much” I spat out quickly, chewing down on my lower lip nervously and crashing my lips onto yours since I didn't know if I was gonna make it out alive in time. I broke the kiss quickly and pushed by the shoulders to where the swarm of people was going and you looked at me, with tears filling up your already shiny eyes and your pink lips quivering and I knew what you were feeling and what was going on inside your head.

I should’ve gone with you to the car instead of being a ‘hero’ who doesn't save the day…

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･ ⠄ ･

I watched the seagulls above me flap their wings away in the blue and clear sky. I fluttered my eyes shut as the waves crashed against each other creating a soft lullaby for me to listen to whilst reminiscing about the memories I had with you, whilst you were still here.

A singular tear formed and fell out of the corner of my eye, I sank deeper into the warm beach sand beneath me, I knew you were probably judging me from above as you watched me weep on an empty beach on a Friday afternoon.

“I still blame myself, angel…” I mumbled to myself. A deep sigh left my lips as I stared at the sky slowly darkening and changing from orange into a lavender colour. “If only I had known that…the tsunami would attack the other side first…I would be with you right now, in heaven” I spat out in a cracked voice, I raised my sandy hands to rub away at my eyes to try and wipe the tears that were threatening to spill. I exhaled through my mouth as I slowly raised myself up and picked up my belongings, not forgetting to pick up my favourite type of seashell and hold it between my two hands and making a wish that I truly wanted to come true and throwing it towards the ocean and I watched skipping away at the ocean before it completely sank. I giggled out of pity for myself as I dragged my feet across the sand as the sky darkened above me and leaving me completely alone with my thoughts in the darkness, the stars and most importantly you, my little angel, now in this world and the other world.

I wished another tsunami could happen that could kill me first and put me out of this misery, guilt and shame that has been weighing on my shoulders since two years ago…

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･ ⠄ ･

#zb1 imagines #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 scenarios #zerobaseone #zb1 gunwook #park gunwook #gunwook imagines #gunwook x reader #gunwook fluff #zerobaseone gunwook #zb1 angst #zerobaseone angst

[stromuprisahat]

"I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream."

Siege and Storm- Chapter 15

Oh nein! Mal has issues! With consequences of his actions he should be grateful for, and his girl not sharing every waking thought with him, when her worst worries spring from his most hated topics- the Darkling and her role in politics.

And Alina once again feels responsible for his feelings.

Yeah, this would have a bit more weight, if Alina didn't do it only for appearances' sake. Or if she granted the position due to merit, not random pick of what she views as the lowest low. Or if she didn't continue speaking as if she were a narrator of wildlife documentary, describing a new species of animal that just appeared.

Not necessarily, but it's one of Alina's less far-fetched deductions.

Aleksander could've been aware of David's fascination with Morozova's work. He could've picked the most skilled in bonework or the one most experienced in forging amplifiers- they're supposed to be rare, so not many Fabricators will have that.

*mumbles* And somehow we're to believe this pragmatic man chose to follow Alina, because... ? She's the good one, or whatever?!

*chants* Double agent Kaminsky, double agent Kaminsky!

Alina: Why would you want to kill this man! How horrible! At least question him first!

She would make a delightful morally flexible character, if she were acknowledged as such, and embracing that quality.

Says who? Zoya?

He KeEpS mE So BuSy!

Saints, Alina, you can't believe everything people say about themselves!

Alina: I'm not sure my three months of training are enough, but I can do like two things with my powers, so let's focus on increasing them further AND on the mythical forbidden art that created my goal no. 1 in the first place. I bet nothing can go wrong...

Only signing? Not reading to get into picture? And who prepares them?!

Bureaucracy, baby!

Welcome to responsibility!

I would sympathize with Alina much more, if she showed genuine interest in those she doesn't know. If her motivation weren't merely "Do the opposite of (what I think) the Darkling did". I she truly believed in her own philosophy.

Shocking!

People forced to sit next to half-strangers they're not used to interact with, create unpleasant atmosphere!

My work experience considered- you're lucky there's no visible enmity- you could've made the wrong people sit next to each other and tableware could've ended up in wrong bodyparts.

Also: How is Nadia sitting next to Marie? I thought breaking up already existing friend groups was a point of this whole exercise.

They're not gifts, Nikolai. They're just your father's property, but let's remember the Darkling didn't wait for the Queen to request a specific one's service, and turned it into a gesture of his own thoughtfulness. Fuck his strategems!

Alina's misplaced sensibilities are incredibly frustrating.

She wants to lead Second Army, but not order them, not assign them tasks directly, because that would somehow make her a bad person, instead of efficient leader.

What if no one will volunteer? What if weak, incompetent Squallers will? You don't look at special assignment and think- Yeah, whoever wants to do it... You PICK the most capable person with both sufficient skills AND suitable personality.

Awwww!

Poor granny deserves an Oscar!

#Grishaverse #S&S Chapter 15 #Alina Starkov #Second pseudoArmy #grishanalyticritical #Malyen Oretsev #Fedyor Kaminsky #Nikolai Lantsov #Baghra Morozova #self centred and paranoid #Siege and Storm #Grisha trilogy #V #books #quotes #Leigh Bardugo #anti Mal #anti Malina #anti Baghra

[thefoolishone666]

Kickin Chicken once said

@hiwelcometothemonstersancturary gave me the go to do this, which is mistake one for them, so here is my go at giving them what they encouraged while I pray it works well. And if not...well I at least tried.

* (Refering to Bobby) She is called Captain Heartbeat cause she will squeeze love out of your heart...and blood, but mostly love.

* (After speaking pr-bt for a 2 minutes) You ever forget your first language?

* Mods, take their swimming privileges away and put them in the pool.

* I would go evil, but I am going to follow dad's steps of being good...plus I saw they went shoe shopping so...

* What do you mean I can't seduce myself!?

* (Loud thud off Camera) PERCEPÇÃO DE PROFUNDIDADE!

* Our ship has a pool, an omelet bar, tons of rooms for you to sleep in, one would say that is a cruise, to which I say, fair, but have you seen the plank, cause I am about to get you real familiar with it.

* I heard some demons were touched starved. I got more than enough buckshot to help with that.

* Bubba, reading chat: "Kickin isn't the sharpest knife in the group," Well that is rude...

Kickin: I did eat packing peanuts when I was younger to be fair.

Everyone in room:

Kickin:...Wait is this new information for you?

Everyone: YES!?

* Wonder how many people come on to see me stream thinking "Oh hey, the voice actor for Kickin does streaming," or "Hey is this the official channel for the Smiling Critters show?" And they just come in on me saying something like, "I HAVE BUILT A TO SCALE JOLLY ROGER WITH POPSICLE STICKS!"

* Hey Theo, it's you! (Gets empty bottle thrown at head) Ow.

* White is the color of evil, cause nothing exists in it! Delight taught me that!

* I would cry, but I am too dehydrated to do such a thing. (Goes to drink some water, pauses, puts water bottle back down)

* It is always funny to see people react to my complete indifference to horrible stuff.

* I needed to find a way to get a gambling addiction, so I thought space could have the answer.

* (Seeing Bubba being affected by the blue screen) Bubba, I know you always wanted to become the one thing I love, but this is ridiculous!

* I am just saying revenge is amazing, ok? Yeah, you gain a tremendous amount of regret sometimes, but it is amazing.

* Cool motive bro, still murder!

* (In response to Angel giving them food) It hasn't been that long since I started streaming, it has only been...5 hours...

* This is my favorite bird. (Holds up middle finger before pointing to self) It is the chicken.

* (Wearing VR) The future is today!...I might need it adjusted though.

* Does dying take away time away from my vacation days?

* IT IS ALL A CONSPIRACY TO END ME! IF NO ONE EVER HEARS FROM ME AGAIN, IT IS CAUSE THEY KILLED ME, CHOPPED ME UP, AND FED ME TO THE WOLVES DANG IT!

* Fursuits are getting so good you can now subject yourself to your own form of trauma to fuse into it. Brought to you by Playtime.

* I have seen the internet and honestly, have seen worse. Which is saying alot.

* (Looks at Candy Cat in his lap before looking at camera)...Help. me.

* Theo: You finally did it! Did it help when you imagined it was me you were fighting?

Kickin: Not at all...worked when it was Dogday though.

Dogday: WHAT DID I DO?

Kickin: Hell if I know. As long as it works though.

* (Playing I Expect You to Die, dies trying to do an action pose)...(Starts singing the James Bond theme notes)

* (Reacting to "Unnecessary Feelings") Bubba, I was promised a crime drama, not a reminder that no one in this house knows how to feeling well, including us!

* I would boop you, but I don't want a pirate hook this early in my character development.

* William then preceded to commit several hours of joy, on at least an entire classroom of kids to learn why death does.

* You can have one hit Hoppy...Ah não, ela tem uma cadeira!

* Don't worry, I won't hurt you, I am just going to turn into a nuke to fall on you.

* (Stares at camera while winding music box)

* Chica, you wouldn't hurt your brother, would you? Or would you want me to be you and Foxy's kid, whichever makes you more merciful on me.

* I am here to break the stereotype that parrots can only be pirates and no other reasons at all.

* (Refering to how much money he has in game) $60!? I can finally afford 1 AAA video game! (Pulls up Balan Wonderworld steam page) I am going to buy this one guys!

* Kickin, coming into Crafty's stream: You mind if I borrow a picture.

Crafty: Uh sure...Why?

Kickin, taking one of the monsters: A reminder.

Crafty: A reminder of what?

Kickin: Of who in this family is an actual threat. (Leaves without elaboration)

* Don't make fun of me, I will cry will I beat you up.

* We don't even own a game cube, I just want to find a copy of Skies of Arcadia to display.

* When you get into a certain mindset for so long, it is so jarring to have to go into a different line of think, like you just suddenly ask, "Wait I don't have to ration this sandwich for the entire year?"

* WHY DID I LET THEO TALK ME INTO PLAYING THIS!?

* I am still surprised I recovered so well from all of that.

* What would the others do without me? Minus not having a heart attack everyday.

* I SURVIVED THAT FACTORY FOR OVER 10 YEARS, I WILL NOT LET A SLIDING PUZZLE DEFEAT ME!

* Have good night everyone! I don't remember how I end these...I will make you walk the plank! No, that is not it...

#is it clear I used Google translate cause I don't know the language? #i am very sorry for that #poppy playtime #smiling critters #au #smiling critters arg #smiling critters poppy playtime #kickinchicken #poppy worldwide

[voxaholic]

The Worst Day

A ficlet that got out of hand for @randomly--accessed--memories

Vox accidentally stumbles into the basement studio where he was tortured into insanity. Velvette finds him and Valentino is forced to leave mid-shoot because Vox needs him.

Part 1 of 2

Content Warnings: It's Valentino's pov, I feel like that's a warning in of itself.

Beta-read by the lovely @redladydeath

Vox is missing. It’s not exactly an uncommon occurrence, especially on his more lucid days when he remembers that he can travel through electricity and therefore that Valentino and Velvette can’t actually stop him from going anywhere. He never ends up going far and they’ve finally managed to make it so that he mostly can’t leave the tower, but that doesn’t mean it’s not stressful enough to give Val spiritual grey hairs every time it happens.

Velvette is the only one searching for Vox this time because the film he’s currently supervising is gonna be a big moneymaker and apparently the useless idiots he has under contract can’t do their damn job right without his constant fucking supervision. So, instead of helping Velvette, he’s stuck sitting next to a prattling Travis trying to hold himself back from wringing the fucker’s feathery neck since Travis is the director and he unfortunately kind of needs him in one piece today.

Then, his phone rings and he holds up a hand right in Travis’s face. He’s at the very least smart enough to take that as the sign to shut up that it is. Before he even answers the phone there’s already a sinking feeling in his stomach. If Vel had found Vox and he was okay, she would have just texted.

He answers the call, holds the phone to his ear and immediately has to jerk it away when the sound of electronic screeching nearly deafens him. “I found Vox, we need you now. We’re in the studio basement, bring the kit,” Velvette shouts over the sound of what Val now realizes must be Vox freaking out in the background.

He stands up abruptly. “I’ll be there in five,” he says before he hangs up and shoves his phone in his pocket and turns his attention briefly to the useless fucks gaping at him. “Shows over. Keep on task. I’ll be back when I’m back and I’ll fucking know if any of you’ve been slacking,” he snaps before he turns and leaves.

In the hallway, he stops to pick up what he and Vel have begun calling “the kit”– a Vox specific first aid kit that they’d put together shortly after Vox first “woke up”. He knows where to look at this point- doesn’t even have to squint to see it. 

Kit in hand, he leaves the main area of the tower and squints down at his phone following the directions that Velvette gave him to where she and Vox are. The tower really feels too fucking big sometimes.

Valentino thinks he can count the number of times he’s stepped foot on this level of the tower on one hand. Why does he even have a creepy basement studio anyways? Whose idea was this? Was it his? If it was, he must’ve been high as balls to think of it, and if it wasn’t, then he should find whoever’s idea it was and shoot the fucker.

It’s dark as shit down here and the light of his phone isn’t doing much. He’s making progress though, he thinks. The gps seems to think he’s going the right way and he’ll trust that over his shitty eyes.

All unrelated thoughts are pushed from his mind when he spies the vague blob in the corner that he knows must be Vox and Velvette. He can’t make out any details but he notices that both figures are covered in an alarming amount of the horribly distinctive blue of Vox’s strange blood. Suddenly, the pungent, chemical scent of coolant is overwhelming.

Valentino breaks into a sprint and quickly closes the remaining distance between them.

Velvette has Vox backed up into a corner, a hand on each of Vox’s wrists, trying both to hold him still and stem the bleeding. Holy shit, that’s a lot of blood. Vox did a fucking number on himself, those gashes are deep. Something silver glints out from the mess of blue and Val suddenly feels nauseous. Vox had never clawed himself to the bone before.

“The hell are you doing just standing there? Fucking help me!” Velvette snaps, screaming to be heard over Vox’s panicked electronic gibberish. Vox is fighting her the best he can considering how weak he must be from blood loss. Velvette is holding her own,, but even in his weakened state, Vox still has over two feet on her heightwise, so she’s struggling.

He hurries over and kneels down so that he’s at eye-level with the struggling, panicking ex-overlord.  “Voxxy?” he calls, voice softening into a tone he pretty much only uses with Vox on his worst days.

Vox stops thrashing when he sees him. Velvette releases Vox and moves aside to let him half stumble, half crawl into Valentino’s waiting arms, absolutely covering him in that neon blue blood of his. For some fucking reason, despite being either scared or confused by him on his more lucid days, when Vox is like this – out of his mind, terrified, vulnerable – Valentino is the only person able to calm him down; the only one he seems to trust.

Velvette leans forward to snatch the first aid kit he’d dropped. He tactfully pretends not to notice the way her hands shake when she opens it and pulls out a needle and thread. “Keep him calm and as still as possible. I need to try and fix the bloody mess he made of himself,” she instructs and it’s a testament to how serious the situation is that Val listens to her without complaint. There’s little he hates more than being ordered around. 

He adjusts his hold on Vox, so that Velvette can grab Vox’s right arm and then reaches into the kit to grab some gauze, which he immediately wraps around Vox’s left, putting pressure on the wound by wrapping his hand around Vox’s thin – and so fucking fragile – wrist. It’s going to take Vel time to get one arm done, so he should probably try and make sure Vox doesn’t bleed out in the meantime. 

They’ll have to call up one of Vox’s on-call repair guys later. Vox doesn’t really heal like normal sinners– doesn’t heal at all, in fact. He has to be repaired, his broken parts replaced. They don’t have the knowledge or equipment necessary to replace the damaged panels on his arms, so the bandaid solution of stitching the torn, synthetic skin back together is all they fucking can do for now.

Vox, for his part, is remarkably still and pliant, screen buried in Valentino’s ruff. He’s shaking like a whore going through withdrawal though and making these awful little staticky whimpering noises that Val is trying hard not to pay too much attention to because they are kind of breaking his heart a little bit. He previously wasn’t even aware he had a heart capable of breaking, but he’s learned so many fun new things about himself since that radio bastard ruined Vox, ruined everything. 

“So, you have any idea what set him off this badly?” Val asks, mostly to try and drown out the pitiful sounds Vox continues to make whenever Velvette makes another stitch. He is curious though. Vox can get bad, but usually not to this extent. He’s torn up not just his arms (although they certainly got the worst of it) but his whole torso, with what little remains of his shirt hanging in blood-stained shreds off his frame. 

“No clue,” Velvette replies just a little bit too quickly, her shoulders tense, eyes averted. Oh, she’s lying through her fucking teeth. Really, she’s usually better at lying than this. Valentino considers pushing but decides against it– he really does not care right now. She’s lucky that he doesn’t because usually he fucking despises being lied to, especially so poorly. 

Instead of replying, he watches Velvette work with morbid fascination. Her stitches aren’t neat exactly– hard to be when Vox is shaking and the synthetic flesh is ripped so jaggedly and uneven– but they’ll do until Vox’s nerds can fix him up properly. The red thread really pops out against the dark blue of Vox’s skin, it’s almost pretty in a really morbid way. He wonders if stitchplay is a thing. This could be pretty sexy in a different context.

Vox’s shaking suddenly transitions into violent full-body spasms and his background staticked noises of pain turn into a glitched out, inhuman screech as he tries to jerk his arm out of Vel’s grasp, causing her to reflexively tighten her grip and yank Vox’s arm back. That only freaks Vox out more and now he’s struggling in earnest, almost to the point Val can’t keep a hold on him.

“Val!” Velvette snaps between curses as she struggles to keep Vox from reopening his brand new stitches. That’s his cue to do something because he’s supposed to fix this some-fucking-how.

With the one hand that’s not occupied with keeping hold of some part of Vox, Valentino grabs the edge of Vox’s screen, forcing him to look up at him. Vox’s face is flickering in and out, pupils darting, mouth twisted in either agony or terror, probably both. 

“I’ve got you,” he soothes, fingers tracing gently across the glass that makes up the equivalent of Vox’s cheek. He continues to murmur soothing nonsense and pet names to him. He really doubts Vox can understand a thing. It doesn’t seem to matter what he says as long as he’s the one who’s saying it. 

There’s a whoosh of air from Vox’s vents before he goes limp in Val’s arms again, head only supported by Val, expression dazed. Valentino carefully guides his face back into his neck ruff, grimacing a bit at the way his fur immediately puffs up due to the static. Aah, the things he endures for this man.

“Don’t stop talking,” Velvette demands and he’s struck by how novel it is for her to ask that of him. Usually, she’s one of the few people who can get away with telling him to shut up and she abuses that privilege liberally. “He freaked out because you shut up. I’d like to get this done without any more meltdowns,” she explains because of course she couldn’t just let him think she enjoyed the sound of his beautiful voice.

“Hmn, what should I talk about?” he muses aloud, fingers idly tracing the back of Vox’s monitor. “Liiike, should I just talk to myself or am I gonna get the privilege of having you as a conversation partner?” he asks teasingly.

That gets him a frigid glare in return and Vel sighs like she’s carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. “It doesn’t fucking matter. Just– I’m really not in the mood right now, Val.” 

Okay, well, fuck him for trying to lighten the mood. Talking to himself it is since Velvette’s being such a bitch about the situation and not even in the cool way she normally is.

He settles on bitching about the useless fucks back at the studio, because that is a topic he’s always willing to go on about and it’s not one Velvette’s usually willing to listen to, but he kind of has her hostage now, so fuck her. Valentino allows the annoyed scowl on her face to soothe the bubbling rage in the pit of his stomach as he rants about how Angel Dust has been taking over three fucking minutes to respond to his texts recently.

He’s on his sixth Angel-related story when Velvette finishes stitching and begins winding gauze around Vox’s arm. He hates how the bandages make Vox somehow seem even smaller, more visibly broken. He holds Vox a little tighter.

Velvette brushes some of her hair out of her face and God, she’s a mess. Her hair is all fucked up and she’s absolutely covered in blood– mostly Vox’s but a little bit of her’s from where Vox’s claws nicked her in his struggle.

“Okay, fuck, one down, one to go. Flip him over for me,” she instructs and Val knows what she means but he’s immediately hit with the mental image of flipping Vox over with a spatula like he’s a pancake.

He doesn’t tell Vel about his hilarious thought because he’s apparently not allowed to even try and make this shitty situation even slightly less miserable. He just does what she tells him to, even if the high-pitched noise of alarm Vox makes when he pulls his screen from his chest to reposition him makes him desperately wish there was someone or something around he could maim.

It takes at least another half an hour for Velvette to finish with his left arm and she does so not a moment too soon because somehow, Val was about to run out of people to complain about. He was really scraping the bottom of the barrel there for a sec.

“You’re not gonna let me flake out on the shoot, are you?” Val asks as Velvette puts the thread and gauze back in the kit. The last thing he wants is to go back to the shoot with Vox in his arms, but with the state he’s in, they both know he’s not going to be able to be left alone. 

“I can’t make you do shit, but we both know how much is riding on this movie selling well,” she responds and Val can’t help but groan. She’s right. They both know she is and he fucking hates that.

“Ugh, fine, but you can’t bitch at me if I shoot a bitch or two,” he concedes as he stands up, Vox still held securely in his arms. God, Vox is hot as Hell, in a literal sense. It feels like he’s hugging an overheated laptop. The rest of this day is going to suck, but whatever, it’s not like the past several years of his afterlife haven’t also sucked. It’s not like he has much hope left of it - of Vox - getting any better.

#ram au #vox #valentino #voxval #staticmoth #velvette

[vulpixisananimal]

Defender

(A house for Defenders. Or a castle. Or maybe just a place. Regardless that's where they were now. You were leading the charge, as usual. Followed by Mirabelle, Isabeau, Odile, Bonnie, and Nille. It was like that old routine, just follow Siffrin. It was... comforting? You weren't really sure.)

(The Defenders, as Isabeau had once told you, had a house of their own. All about protecting the weak and looking over the city and those in it. It looked welcoming, people coming in and out, bringing in snacks, running around, chatting. If you had time, you'd ask what was making the place so busy.)

(Why do I need to be the one in charge here?)

(I'm pretty tired, plus, you did good at guiding them before.)

(But-)

(You're their guiding star~)

(You groan internally. That was horrible.)

(You step into the Defender place. It looked grand and busy. It was built like a public place. So many smiling faces around, it would have made you relaxed.)

(You glance at your party. They all looked so tense.)

"Isabeau?!?"

(The stranger went right up to Isabeau like they were old friends.) "Isa!! It's been, what, almost a year??"

(Isabeau hesitated.) "... Yeah!! Sorry I was just surprised to uh, see you!"

"Care to introduce us, Isabeau?" (Odile and the others were coming around to meet the new face.)

"Oh!! Right!! This is uh, Ramos! We hung out a lot before I left." (Isabeau mentioned each of you all in turn.) "Odile, Bonnie, Nille, Mirabelle and Siffrin! We're all traveling together!"

"Good to see you again Mirabelle!" (They waved, all chipper and smiling.) "I'm glad that I can see you again, not that I doubted you or 'beau."

"O-oh! Uh, thank you!!" (Mirabelle replied. Maybe telling them all that something bad happened here wasn't a good idea.)

"Are you guys just coming to visit? Or ya need a hand?"

"Someone grabbed Bonnie in broad daylight at the market yesterday. (Odile said, voice steady. At least she could keep a straight face here.)

"What!?!" (Ramos scowled at that.) "In the middle of the busiest place in town! Dunno if that's gutsy or stupid."

"I'd say lucky, if I caught em I'd knock their teeth out!" (Nille continued.) "If it wasn't for Mirabelle I woulda lost em."

"Oh Change." (Ramos shook their head.) "Well tell ya what. There's a few people who can help with that, I'll lead you there! Plus I gotta catch up with my buddy."

(Joke time.)

"Oh, do you keep flowers?"

(Ramos turns to you.) "Flowers?"

"'Cause you have a budding friendship."

(There were a mix of groans and laughs from your family and Ramos. Who moved towards you and was about to put an arm around you.)

(But stopped.)

(. . ?)

"Hey let's get going! The sun isn't waiting for us after all." (Said ramos, turning to lead you all.)

(Ramos and Isabeau were leading the group, chatting and catching up. You were keeping step with them, glancing around the halls and rooms they passed. It all seemed so... Normal.)

(You glance back, Mirabelle was biting her nails (stopping as you give her a look) Odile looked calm and analytical as always, Nille and Bonnie were chatting. Bonnie sniffed the air.)

"Do you keep plants here?"

"Huh? This isn't another joke, is it?" (Ramos replied.)

"Wait! Wasn't there that guy who was keeping roses? It could be that! What was his name..." (Isabeau pondered.)

(... Wait.)

"What's it smell like?" (You ask)

"Huh?" (Bonnie glanced up at you.) "Oh, mint. A neighbor used to have it all over their garden, I'd smell it all the time."

"Oh no!" (Mira exclaimed.) "Mint is so hard to remove, a friend of mine at the House tried using Craft to get rid of it but that didn't even work!"

"Those poor roses..." (Ramos mused.) "He has been stressed lately, maybe that's why."

"Oh!! Maybe I could try, helping with that then?"

"Sure!" (Ramos walked over to Mirabelle and put a hand on her shoulder, and pointed down a hall.) "Should be down there, not hard to miss."

"I'm coming too!!!" (Bonnie ran after Mirabelle, Nille following right behind yelling at them to slow down.)

(Your hand twitches, about to protest but... They were already off, Isabeau catches your look, and smiles at you as if to say "they'll be okay." You hope so.)

"Not far now." (Ramos continued.) "Sorry this place can be a maze."

"I'm used to mazes." (You reply. Odile snorts at that.)

"Has Jouvente had a history of kidnappers?" (Odile asks.)

"Nope! It's supposed to be real safe here." (Another turn.) "Dunno why someone would try to grab a kid."

"Hmm." (You knew that look. If Odile had THAT look then something was up.)

(Another turn.)

"Oh don't worry M'dame, Ramos has always been able to help!" (Isabeau looked back and smiled at you.) "They helped me a lot with my defenders exams! It was a real struggle."

(... What?)

(Another turn.)

"Are the Defender exams particularly tough?" (Odile asked, ever curious.)

"Oh yeah!! But thanks to Ramos I didn't break a sweat-"

(You stop walking.)

(How many loops had you and Siffrin talked to him? How many lines of his has you memorized. You probably knew his history better than he did.)

(Then why was he getting it wrong?)

"You never mentioned Ramos before, Isabeau."

(He tilted his head.) "I haven't?"

(No. You haven't. Over hundreds of loops, of hundreds of variations. You never once heard that name. But you knew Isabeau asked a favor tree to ace his exams. You knew he studied. You knew he found it easy and didn't need help.)

(What's that smell?)

"You have not, no." (Odile adds.) "And I must ask, if Jouvente is safe, how'd you get that bandage, Ramos?"

(You look at the Defender. You knew their look too.)

(Fear. Fear about a flubbed line. Fear about a slipping mask.)

"Siffrin! M'dame! Please there's no need for any of that-"

(Odile pushes past Isabeau and grabs Ramos' arm.) "What's going on? I don't want to hurt you, Ramos, but someone tried hurting Bonnie."

(What. That. SMELL.)

"M-miss Odile please! I just want to figure this out and, and I want to help!"

(She looks at him for a moment, then stumbles back.)

(Ramos continued.) "If you'd just, just help me out here I'm sure we can-"

"Siffrin?" (Odile glances at you. Her face, it's, she looks panicked. Confused.)

(You look between her, Isabeau, and Ramos. What was going on? What was that smell? What weren't they telling you? Odile put a hand to her head. Isabeau took a step to her to help.)

(You could see Ramos trying to get back into character.)

(. . . Time to play your own role then. You draw your dagger.)

"!!!!!"

(You take a step towards Ramos and speak.) "Tell me the truth."

"I, I-I am I promise I am! I don't know why I'd ever lie to you!"

(Step.) "Liar liar pants a'fire~"

"Siffrin they're, I don't think they're a threat." (Odile mumbled.)

"They're my friend Sif!! Leave them alone!!!" (Isabeau added.)

(Step.)

"I don't want to fight you, but, but I will! I will defend myself!!"

(Step.) "I don't want to hurt you either, Ramos~" (You twirl your knife.) "But I don't know if I can hold myself back~"

(Loop, you're scary.)

"Siffrin?!?!" (Isabeau stood up and stepped towards you.) "What's gotten into you?!?"

(Running out of time.)

(You breathe in, and out. Dash towards Ramos and swipe at their kerchief.)

(. . . You were right.)

"Siffrin! That's enough!" (Isabeau got between you and Ramos, but the star pendant was there for all to see. Why was Isabeau being so strange! Couldn't he see that's who grabbed Bonnie?!?)

"That's enough?!? 'Beau please, you can see they're wearing that blinding pendant!" (You were loosing patience.)

"That's just fashion! How do you know it's connected to anything!"

"It's not just fashion!" (You were yelling.) "It's a star! And it-"

"Stop making excuses!! You're just being selfish!"

(. . . Selfish?)

"You've been nothing but rude to me and my friends! You always have been!"

(What. No that, that's not-)

(Something's wrong, this isn't right!)

"I should never have trusted you."

(You feel a tug-)

(. . .)

(He didn't mean it. He didn't mean it. he didn't mean it he didn't mean it he didn't mean it he didn't mean it he didn't mean it.)

(He. Didn't. Mean. It.)

(. . . He didn't. . .)

(. . . Please. . .)

#smile #if you have a feeling that something is just off in this chapter #that's intentional #isat #in stars and time #isat art #isat fanart #siffrin system au #art #sifstem #isat siffrin #au #isat odile #oc #isat oc #isat Bonnie #isat Mirabelle #isat isabeau #isat loop #isat nille #isat spoilers #hehehehe

[kindlingkeen]

(i'm sorry if this doesn't make sense, it's late, but i just realized a lot of this recently and i needed to put it into words so i hope you don't mind)

i've been thinking recently and while i don't mind fics with lazarus pit madness (or lazarus pit side-effects that basically amount to uncontrollable rage or violent blackouts, etc) if they are written well and the madness is handled in an interesting way, i've recently taken to mostly avoiding them because — well first of all so many of them are about tim, which. sometimes i want to read a jason fic that's actually about jason. anyway,, — i've realized that a lot of the time the "lazarus pit madness" is used to excuse everything jason has done since he was dunked. it's the reason he kills now, it's the reason he cut off those heads, it's the reason he beat tim bloody in titan's tower, etc.

instead of letting jason be a character who has his own morals, different and not what is usually considered "acceptable" as they may be, instead of exploring how they influence how he does things as the red hood, or how his own morals, his unique code affects his relationships with the batfam, he's just sort of… flat? he's made into basically nothing but a walking wall of seething green that's easily triggered and makes his black out with rage and is to blame for every violent thing he does — he is given no responsibility for his actions. and i've found that a lot of these fics end with the pit madness either somehow being done away with or at least being dealt with and then jason is back with his family happily ever after completely exonerated because it's not his fault, he didn't make those decisions, the pit did

i just,,, what about a jason who is aware of his actions? what about a jason who has thought things through and decided what kind of person he was going to make himself into? what about a jason who looked his trainers in the eye and knew he was going to kill them, who makes a plan and follows through, who didn't have to cut off those heads but he had a statement to make and maybe cutting them off was awful and horrible no matter that he decided they deserved to die but he did it because it needed done? and he's fully aware of what he's doing, he is responsible for his actions and any consequences. and he's going to do whatever he's going to do anyway. i think he's a much more interesting character that way

You 🤝 Me. Let’s be best friends. We can start a fan club, the let-Jason-have-his-autonomy club. I’ll be treasurer (fair warning, I plan to blow our budget on Red Hood stickers).

In all seriousness, yes, this, exactly this. I read a ton of these fics when I first got into the fandom, and I still enjoy a good pit madness fic from time to time, but nowadays I tend to want so much more for Jason.

For whatever reason, I think there’s a lot of “fast” fanfiction (as in the idea of “fast fashion”) written about Jason. It leans hard into a popular trope, hits those hurt/comfort vibes with a wrecking ball, and usually ends up absolutely nerfing Jason.

Writing a Jason who’s resolute in his mission and his methods, a Jason who is balanced and believable, is hard. Writing that kind of Jason and getting him to authentically reconcile with the Bats without sacrificing his autonomy is miles past hard. Reading that kind of Jason, staring uncomfortable truths in the face, that can also be hard. It’s not for everyone, and that’s okay (*grumbles unhappily*).

Thanks so much for the ask, anon, and for sharing your thoughts with me. 💙💙💙

#let him be complicated and complex and interesting #he’s so much better that way #jason todd #red hood #batfam thoughts #keen converses

[wexhappyxfew]

Oooh, those prompts sure do look amazing… the touch one??? I’m so unsure on which one I might be in a crisis….

Soo… after muuuch deliberation, may ask about nr. 17 (holding the other’s chin up) with my girl Carrie? (I have to stay loyal to her, though I love all the other Silver Bullets girls equally)

Thank you 💖

- Carrie anon

carrie anon my apologies for how incredibly late this is (along with the other prompts sitting in the askbox lol) finals season will forever be a struggle lmao. BUT! i'm taking a mental break and here we are with a piece for my beans, carrie x dougie, carrie anon!! :D VERY excited to post this, we get a bit more with carrie's feelings as she's pretty good at hiding them (but not great with hiding them lol). so please enjoy!!

bergie doesn't strike out

(a/n): for the carrie x dougie girlies because this prompt i enjoyed and i figured i'd add some more to carrie's background - a struggle to fit in, to feel wanted, in a time of war. yeah, she's going through it to say the least and in some way, we all can get why :'( please enjoy!

Carrie watched from behind her shot glass as James Douglass waltzed over to the congregating group of Clubmobile girls and talked his talk, pulling out his lighter and offering to light up cigarettes, only before making quite the show of winking and meandering away back towards where he had been previously stood with Hambone and Murphy. She watched him let out a barking laugh before pointing to their cups and nodding to the bar. And that's when he started waltzing over to the bar, where she was stood, rather enjoying her stare-down with her shot glass instead of having to focus on him.

"Carrie Achterbeg, haven't seen you in a minute." she heard him say as he approached - which albeit was the truth. She hadn't come out to one of these in a couple of weeks. After that awkward misunderstanding with one of the guys from the 418th - radio operator, kind eyes, but horrible ego - after he had tried to plant one on her, she didn't want anything to do with the flying club, drinks and pilots. Tonight though was different. And after those last few missions, she needed some sort of melancholy distraction, even if it were a shot or two stood alone at the bar.

"Aren't you a sight for sore ey-" Carrie glanced over at James Douglass and shoved him in the shoulder roughly before throwing back her shot and sighing.

"Don't finish that sentence." she managed out, coughing briefly and then looked at him.

"Dually noted." Dougie said, before leaning up on the bar next to her and watching the side of her face, "What's eating you?" Carrie let out a dry laugh and looked over at him.

"I should be asking you the same thing," she said, before lowering your voice, "struck out, huh?" Dougie raised a brow in her direction and she nodded over his shoulder.

"Tatty, Helen, Virginia…." Carrie said, "Christ, Dougie, you struck out and you struck out hard." Dougie rolled his eyes and leaned more against the bar and nodded to the tender.

"Struck out is a strong word to use in that sense-"

"Sure as hell is currently the right word-"

"There's other words-"

"Struck out is as good as it comes." Carrie said to him and he took the beer from the tender and sighed, before taking a long sip. She watched him for a moment, biting the inside of her lip and then glanced back at her empty shot glass.

She was just punchy, she wasn't in the best of moods, and James Douglass was beginning to grow on her in ways she hadn't expected nor entirely wanted. And her mind was trying to ignore it.

"Why haven't you been coming recently?" Dougie asked her as he casually sipped on his beer, eyes wandering out to the dance floor and then back to her, before grinning wide, "Hambone's been missing ya." Carrie sighed and then stood up straighter and pushed her hair behind her ears and glanced at him.

"Personal choice." she said and then shrugged as she looked out towards the dance floor again, "You missing me, too? You seemed real tangled up with those guys over there. Surprised you came over to say hello." She raised a brow at him and he shrugged her off. Watching him, she then turned, only to be stopped by his arm jutting out.

"Where you going?"

"Just taking a lap around," she said with a shrug, "talk to some people I haven't seen before, ya know, get eyes on everyone." He watched her, a mixture of adornment it seemed and surprise, as she straightened her jacket and then looked at him.

"Everything look good?" she asked him, holding out her arms like she was about to go off on her first day at school and wanted her uniform in check. Dougie held her gaze for a moment before he let his eyes wash down her form and then back up to her face again. Carrie watched him, her collar turning hot as he took a slow sip and let his eyes rest on hers again, that lazy smile growing on his face as he nodded.

"Good is a strong word-"

"Dougie, don't you dare." Carrie muttered, a small smile growing on her face as she shoved at his shoulder, and repositioned herself, hands on her hips and sighed, "Seriously." For a moment, they just watched each other and it should've felt awkward, but in all actuality - it wasn't. And knowing that he was looking at her that fondly almost made her want to stay and talk to him more. But she wasn't like that it seemed.

"You look great," Dougie said, his voice strained as he nodded, "don't let none of those fools do anything funny, alright?" Now, it was Carrie's turn to let out a laugh and raise her brow.

"Since when did you care?" she asked quickly, crossing her arms, "'Cause three weeks ago, I had that stupid radio operator from the 418th practically down my throat and you barely batted an eye." A few onlookers glanced towards the two and it took Carrie a few moments to recognize how loud she had gotten and suddenly emotional in her words. And why did she care if Dougie had barely batted an eye? He shouldn't have needed to. They weren't technically even friends, just a joke or two here and there, some teasing and good-natured tomfoolery, but nothing more. Why did she care that he should care? Carrie sighed. Dougie looked up at her with those big, slightly worried eyes and bit back his lip before nodding.

"Well, now that you've made me aware of that, maybe I will bat an eye next time." Dougie said, looking up at her as his fingers danced against the cool mug of beer, "Who the hell was it?" Carrie stared at him and then blinked slowly.

"It doesn't matter-"

"That's why you didn't come-"

"Dougie-"

"Because he had-"

"Dougie." Carrie said, stepping closer to him, and holding his gaze right in her own, her hand ghosting over his arm as if to latch onto him, but failing to do so, "Let it go. It's over now."

"You brought it up." Dougie said back quickly, but she stopped him with a shake of the head. But then she stood quiet for a moment and let her thoughts grow. She had brought it up. Almost as if she had wanted him to know. Because no one had known. Because she'd been embarrassed that she let herself think that maybe that was a good guy, someone she could live a life with and all he had wanted was a kiss. It was a stupid thought.

"Who was it, Carrie, seriously?" Dougie asked her as she balled up her fists and looked anywhere but his face, which she knew had a look on it that would make her lose it, "A guy from the 418th, huh? He ever heard about a thing called messing with the bull, you damn well be getting the horns-"

"Shh, keep your voice down!" Carrie muttered, bringing a finger in front of her mouth and looking at him with wide eyes, "He was just some jackass that thought I was there to have a good time and that was it." Dougie grew quiet as he watched her. Whatever it was between them seemed to simmer and they both seemed to understand in that minute what she meant. But she wouldn't dare actually say why she had even bothered kissing the guy, or why Dougie was looking at her like that.

"He didn't do anything to you, did he?" Dougie said, his voice softer than it normally was, that look in his eye deeper and darker, "I know a guy-"

"No." Carrie said, her cheeks scarlet, "It was just a stupid kiss, that's it. It's over. I just….I was trying to avoid the situation again and…." She trailed off. She was over talking about it to be completely honest. She looked up at him.

"I'm fine." she said with an honest nod, "Thank you for your…..concern." Dougie watched her, with a slow nod and licked his lips, like he was still digesting her words in their entirety. He didn't say much, he just watched her and she didn't entirely want to complain about that because for one, his eyes were some of the kindness she'd probably seen on this side of the world. And for once, they were eyes that looked at her in a way other guys didn't.

"Just…go have some fun," Dougie said quietly, "give me a look if a guy does something stupid, alright?" And she nodded and looked up at him, as he smiled softly at her, his eyes darting over her own endless blue ones, an abyss of dampened sea and darkened souls. Lost and harrowing. He leaned forward a bit and lowered his voice.

"Don't strike out." he said with a small chuckle and she looked up at him and brought her pointer finger underneath his chin and prodded him lightly to meet her gaze, before whispering back just as quietly.

"Bergie doesn't strike out."

#masters of the air #mota #mota writings #silver bullets #carrie achterberg #james douglass #carrie x dougie #THEMMMMM #when you can tell they both want to say things to each other but they can't bc they've never crossed that line before #dougie saying she looks great and willing to defend her like bro i WILL just go cry in a corner fr #THEM #i will forever fangirl over these two bc they are absolutely INSANEEE #me yelling from the corner 'just say you like each other and get it over with !!!!' #this is earlier days of them knowing each other but the chemistry is all the same #please enjoy!

[snorpdawg]

Autistic Headcanons: Wambus Troubleham (Bugsnax, 2020)

“I must look mighty foolish stickin' to my guns like this. But you don't give up just ‘cause things get tough. If nobody else believes in me, I gotta believe in myself.”

#bugsnax #wambus troubleham #bugsnax wambus #autistic headcanon #autistic headcanons #actually autistic #actuallyautistic #gif set #gifset #gif #🛠️.gif #to be totally honest I’m not super happy with the formatting #but this is the least horrible it looked so what can you do? #why is he looking to the left in half of the gifs… wack #I hope you guys know I fought for my life looking for good playthroughs for the ‘meltdown’ gif #I had to hear ‘y’all want Triffany back so bad?! go find her yerself!’ so. many. times #every day is hell… woe is me #this beast has been in my drafts since July and I only finished it now. um. whoops?

[thecrowsart]

👁️🦎🎯

(crops under cut)

#natsume yuujinchou #matoba seiji #natori shuuichi #horrible exorcists #sorry i couldnt think of a caption i literally sat here for like 2 minutes lol #usually i use a quote from the scene or a lyric from a song but in this scene they're just Looking #anyway FUCK architecture #really though this is csp's perspective ruler's fault. i shoulda just done this by hand #but i made it work. since it wasnt super super complicated lol #ummm i feel like natori looks like a baby ceo but that is what he was wearing at least in the anime version of this scene #and midorikawa's kind of vague about clothes so i made it easy on myself #but why are you rolling up to the exorcist meeting in a navy blazer and tan chinos? #his uniform color is tan so ig the pants could be from that but the blazer...... #tryna represent the natori clan in front of the other exorcists ig idk #meanwhile matobas just in his gakuran lol #hes not the clan head yet so he can just be there as a kid #he even gets told off by takuma and called seiji-kun.....could you imagine like. #it's weird for him to not be matoba #anyway. um i completely kind of fudged the architecture because its hard to tell where exactly in the building this scene is and #i had a specific composition in mind #i only realized i messed up how the windows work like 3/4 of the way into lineart soooo #but thats the kind of thing only i would notice probably #btw i was originally drawing a different scene of them but i was faced with the reality of foliage. #and i remembered this romeo and juliet ass scene existed so #i chose architecture LOL #okay last thing. i feel like natoris haircut is too polished and nice but fr wtf is his canon hair #im doing my best LOL.........but boy #OKAY im done

[aquanutart]

After saving the land before them Zelda and link were tied and they need to sleep. So they went on there Horse to the Village to Link’s house. As Zelda was so happy she was also glad to know that all that had happened was all in the past.

Zelda was so happy to not be in the Castle trying to stay awake. Everything was fine now she was with Link. When they got about 4 hours away Zelda saw that there were some people out in the distance. She had not seen people in forever she said to link to set up camp for the night and she would go talk to the people and she would come back with some food so they could cook.

Link looked at the people in concern I will be fine just go set up camp he nodded his head. Zelda loved to see the blue sky and the birds and the sway of the grass she never wanted to it to end. When she started talking to the people they were a little of but she just thought that they were excited to see her they just offered bananas to her. All at once she remembered that Link told her about a Yiga clans they would look like a normal person but they were not.

she screamed “Link” he came running at full speed and right on time the Yiga clan members were not the week kind but the much harder to kill ones. One did have a bow though Link killed the one with a sword first but the one with a bow was so fast Link told Zelda to run back to camp she didn’t want to leave him alone but she went behind a big rocks and hid.

Zelda Hurd nothing but a sweet sound of a little bird chirping in the distance. Then she heard a scream it sounded like a link she ran all the way to him the Yiga was not dead but it retreated because it has fulfill its duties. It had shot Link right in the chest with his bow 4 times he was wheezing and gasping for air. Link grabbed two of the arrows and pulled them out. Zelda squinted with fear she knew that it needed to be tended to right away. But all she had was bananas and a small cloth she was watching him grab the other two arrows and he was pulling them out. He Was in a great amount of pain. She tried to talk to him for the very first time she said “ we need to get you to a stable first but we then will rush to Hatnao village”. Link tried to speak but the pain took over.

“shh you need to save your strength right now” Zelda said. She could tell that he Was in A lot of pain. Blood started to turn his clothes red and Zelda new that she will need to hurry or he wouldn’t make it! she said to him can you get on the horse he said. I-can try-to get on…. She was getting so worried that he wouldn’t be able to make it. She helped him get on the horse and they started to ride.

after about an hour or so it started to get worse they were about 20 minutes away from the staple. And he fell off his horse Zelda jumped off and rushed to the side. He was Groaning with pain as much more blood came out. At this time he was as white as the cloud He was barely breathing and struggling when he was. They finally got to a stable she found some cloth and wiped off the wound with some water. He was wincing with pain she didn’t want it to be painful but she wanted to be clean.

she turned one of the horses in so they could ride together in and he can rest. Zelda did not notice how much blood he had Lost buddy was struggling because of the blood loss they were almost to the village about only 30 minutes away when it started to get worse blood was rushing out now and Zelda was worried. The time before his eyes were open but his eyes started the clothes slowly.

Zelda knew it had to be because of blood loss or was that the reason she turned around and stop the horse she put her hand to Link’s for head he had a very high fever. She knew that the fever was going to cause some pain and some discomfort but she knew she had to get to the village that was all of her concern. when she made it to the village people came running out of their houses link was not awake anymore so They took him to his house and laid him down on the bed. Zelda fell asleep on the bedside Well they tend to his wounds.

She was still very worried for him but than her friend pura came in she said check it her normal thing she looked at link and said what happened Zelda explain to the story as pura made some food on the stove for when he woke up and fore them of course. They talked for hours then Link woke up wai-r am I… don’t worry you’re in your house he fell back asleep after about 20 minutes he was obviously exhausted from blood loss and a fever. After he was all better and able to walk again I Zelda and him continue their adventures as one! The end. Thank you so much for your kindness and your help for your love and kindness always gives me energy.❤️❤️❤️ I just want to ask if you can draw like a little seen out of this you are such an inspiration to me 😊

Hello! Thank you for all your kind words!! I'm really happy if I can give you energy; thank you for all your kindness and positivity as well! I always see you tagging people just to say nice things to them; it's really sweet and always makes me smile! 😊😊💖

Thank you so much for sharing your story! I really enjoyed reading it!! I don't take requests, but I did imagine this based on your story! (I'm sorry if it's not exactly what you had in mind!)

#legend of zelda #botw #zelink #zelda #link #aquanutart #replies #long post #blood #I hope there's always someone looking after you as well as zelda is taking care of link! 💖 #I read your recent post and I'm so sorry to hear what you're going through 😭 #I'm wishing for you to be well and that you keep doing everything you love! you deserve to always have people who care by your side! #I feel so glad that Zelda doesn't have to worry now that she's with Link and they can share the house in Hateno Village! #At least it seemed so peaceful but then--?!! It's sweet that Link tells her to get to safety while he rushes to protect them both! 😭 #I was really worried about Link when the Yiga shot him so many times!!! #and Zelda only had bananas and a small cloth! That's not enough to treat such severe wounds oh no!!! #he pulled all those arrows out himself?!!! no wonder he was in such a great amount of pain! OUCH that sounds horrible!!! 😭😭😭 #treating a wound hurts but Zelda's right it's more important for it to be clean! #the wound sounds so painful I'm so worried about him.. poor zelda wondering if he's going to make it! 😭 #and now he has a fever too oh no?!! I can feel what a rush theyre in when they arrive at the village; Zelda thinking only of getting there! #HE'S OKAY!!! I'm so relieved he was able to recover from that incredible amount of blood loss!! 😭😭😭 #I hope Zelda will stay by his side and hold his hand while he recovers! I love that they continue their adventures together!! #I'm so glad there was a happy ending! Thank you for sharing your story! I've never gotten an ask like this before!

[deus-ex-mona]

series i’m gatekeeping from my family vs series i’m ✨ok✨ with my family knowing i’m into:

#‘why do you gatekeep hw from your irls?’ well. the thing is. i just ✨don’t want to✨ #and. like. i’ve already led my family to believe that i bought bl manga when i was buying idol sengen at animate #so i think im already past the point of no return in that regard. so. um. yeah. #thank you village vanguard for the unexpected μ’s content in 2k24 you truly are yappa saikyou #i s w e a r falling back into my ll phase almost 10 whole years after i first got into it is unexpected tbh #compounded with the fact that i can now actually afford whatever im looking for. so. like. my wallet is in crisis lol #i had just reached my savings goal last month but now i’ve overspent bc i saw great deals on resold honoka-chan hoodies and i couldn’t help— #so now i have 2 identical hoodies lol. but i’ll keep one of them safe in its packaging bc im unwell like that ig #my merch whaling is out of control i s w e a r but my oshis are just too cute aaaaaaaaa #i probably should open another savings account instead… maybe that’d keep my spending under control… #b u t for now honoka-chan jersey im looking for you #tfw ur oshi is decently unpopular amongst the fans so hardly anyone resells her merch lmao #so ig the relatively fewer fellow fans she has are more dedicated to her than fans of other more popular characters lol #but at least her stuff (when resold) isn’t as overpriced as the actually popular members (birb and tomato) #so my wallet isn’t crying as hard as it could’ve been? ig? hunting for almost 10 year old merch is a pain fr though #either way. the grip idol series have on my wallet is truly insane #i wonder how many bags of chips i could’ve bought with the amount i’ve spent on hw and ll merch to date… #at least a thousand… i think. maybe even 2 thousand if my past gacha game whaling is taken into consideration… #…this is probably why it’s important to have a decent paying job ig. #oh well. at least i may be making b a n k this month with how much ot i’ve had to do this week so far… #i hope i won’t have to work till 5am again over the next 2 days… that had been a horrible experience. #help what am i even talking about anymore why am i having a life crisis right here and now u m. #anyways. dni if you dislike honoka-chan. thanks for coming to my crisis rant. see you when the last stage mv drops ig ok byeeeee

[lunarharp]

wip thing...

of my bg3 avatar hellebore. i also did some casual nude studies of my 3 characters which i'll put under a cut... rather unlike me after all. (so WARNING for abrupt non-sexual full Artistic nudity lol...,,,,) (< won't be making a habit of this)

they mean the world to me

#bg3 spoilers #?? idk. gith look so..Emaciated. And long. i guess we don't eat on the astral plane :) anyway..well..too much to say..... #it is very very very depressing having to live in the Real World after that final playthrough meant so very much to me. #i normally feel Hope & suchlike after finishing a highly immersive emotional game..but it's too hard this time and it hurtsssss lol yippee #i appreciate bg3 very much for being a place where i could access the concept of nudity & such like in a way that finally felt comfortable. #bodies are inherently non-sexual. they just Are a Fact of Life. this game being NORMAL about nudity from the character creation screen #makes it possible for someone like me to actually have a chance at accessing sensuality in a way that feels comfortable from there. #dont feel like putting it into words further. im ace. just very grateful to this game. even despite the horrors i will never ever forget it #augoh..gugf.. want to go back. my friends & love are in there.....i'm supposed to just move on? in the real world??? THIS place???? UHH???? #my characters canonically look like that too!! i see them as intersex and not so much trans. They just look that way. #Diversity win!!! the people who enacted horrors upon you and are trying to kill you again respect your pronouns!!!! <3 #I FAILED HONOUR MODE IN THE STUPIDEST WAY POSSIBLE..ACCIDENTALLY TOUCHED AN ITEM. MY LOVER TOUCHED SOME BLOOD-TOUCHED RAG ITEM @ THE CRECHE #AND MY PEOPLE MASSACRED US... YOU BELOVED PRAT. OF COURSE IT WOULD BE YOU AND IN THIS WAY #grateful for love triangle chaos...INTENSE EX DRAMA... IT HAD MAJOR REPURCUSSIONS THIS TIME...ohh so very much happened ohh my dear #truly don't know how to face the Real World now for real. I Don't Know. something has snapped. ive realised twt just makes me feel sad lol #if something in my spare time isn't at least half as fun as bg3....like.. it's not good enough. god we only have one wild and precious life #being Online makes me feel a loneliness so wretched and painful and horrible i really don't think this is the answer. #Why did you even start drawing in the first place? Why did you start this? #For real..the need to work this out and decide what on earth i'm going to do now has presented itself. Why try to get better..why be online #someone who has an imagination that can keep them so happy and fulfilled...has no business also feeling a loneliness as profound as this. #why was someone THIS introverted and withdrawn and anxious also cursed with such a restlessness? #What are you going to DO now? because hellebore and their lover are fine....... So what about you...? #hellebore..😭😭 AUUGHH!! I JUST WANT TO GO TO MY BED IN THE INN...PLAY ON MY VIOLIN THAT'S WHAT I'D DO!!!! i'd drink some ALE DAMNIT!!!!! #i was rereading My Lesbian Experience With Loneliness- the only time i've seen this level of emotional isolation depicted-and was grateful. #but then i read her latest book and now she has a debilitating substance abuse situation and it's upsetting. #I hope she finds what she was looking for. I hope we all make it. kind of wild that i dont do such major self-sabotage at this point myself #I truly think anyone who manages to find dear friends and achieve fulfillment and happiness with others outside themselves are amazing. #I see it happen from my tower. i hope we all make it. I hope we can make it through everything to come. #Why did i say all this on drawings of my characters naked. ah who even cares any more......