#ive made almost this exact point before i think

[oceanwithouthermoon]

i think the chapter (250) where kusuo tries to change his timeline so that he doesnt have to tell akechi about his powers and ends up accidentally entering a timeline where hes fucking happy and allowed himself to make genuine connections with his friends is by far the most depressing chapter in the entire manga

he had very limited time before he had to deal with akechi, but i just imagine him sitting curled up at his desk for minutes longer than he shouldve, just staring at nothing because where did he go wrong? how is it possible that there are timelines where he doesnt hate himself? is he jealous of that other him or does he resent him because he knows hes undeserving of the connections the other him apparently allowed himself? both?

i need to know what his relationship with his family is like in that timeline... did something change with them too? or everyone treats him the same but in that timeline he has an actual support system to deal with it? or things are different because he actually stands up for himself and can communicate his needs to his family? FUCKKK.

im not entirely sure of the canonicity of the popularity poll contest chapter (73) but it probably caused a similar mental break, but not nearly as significant because it was WAY before he started truly accepting any love from his friends and family... but yk, it just says a lot about him that ONE traumatic experience changed his entire viewpoint on life but it wasn't anything that happened to HIM, like his brother trying to kill him or his friend betraying him or any of his other near death experiences, NO, it was seeing a dog die. THATS what made him decide to better himself and be kind. so yeah, this chapter prob didnt fuck him up TOO bad but he definitely thought back to it during the akechi chapter...

#popular him even had the little sparkle in his eye that kusuo notoriously lost at probably like twelve years old #ive made almost this exact point before i think #not my problem i will repeat myself because it means so much to me #(this has been in my drafts for a really eeally long time btw so if ive talked abt this like ten times idc cuz i dont remember) #saiki k #tdlosk #the disastrous life of saiki k. #saiki kusuo #meows post #meownalysis

[90ekz]

ive head this nagging thought in the back of my head that satoru has some kinda random spot on his body that’ll make him instantly pop a bone. I DONT KNOW JUST WORK WITH ME HERE PLS 🙏 i love your works btw 😘

✧ sweet spot, ft. satoru gojo

✧ tags: mostly fluff, whiny satoru, ‘baby’ as a nickname, did i say mostly fluff already??, dry humping, overstim, loser satoru cs he’s mushy and in love

✧ an: this idea is now living in my head and not paying rent, thanks a lot anon :/

satoru usually just does his own hair care, and he’s very meticulous about it. he wants everything to be clean and pristine—not that you weren’t capable of doing that for him, he’s just very, very dramatic. he didn’t even know this spot was sensitive until… literally now.

he’s standing in the bathroom as you brush your teeth, absentmindedly rubbing his hand over his growing undercut. he figured it was time for him to cut it anyway, but his arms were very sore from some training he’d done with the kids yesterday.

“babe.”

“y’esh?” he chuckled at your mouthful of the minty paste, and just waited for you to finish brushing. when you finally did, you turned to face him as he brushed his thumb over the white pooling on the corner of your mouth.

“can you cut my hair today? ‘arms are so sore.” satoru whined, his finger still tracing your lip lazily.

“have you washed it? i don’t need your lice transferring to me—ouch! okay, okay, plug in the clippers!” you giggled as he pinched your lip. the clippers rested on his side of the sink, and he plugged them in wordlessly. you stood behind him, lightly brushing the area with the small brush you know is the most comfortable for him. satoru sighs lightly as you do this, and his shoulders relax.

he didn’t know exactly what it was, but your hands felt different than his. you made him so sensitive usually anyway, but this was weird. his cheeks were heating, and everything was tingling, not just his neck.

and then you did it.

the clippers worked in upward strokes as you trimmed the hair down, and suddenly your thumb brushed over some magical pressure point of his. satoru felt pleasure shoot down his spine like he never had before, and a almost girly squeak slipped out before he could stop it. your eyes go wide and you remove the clippers from his neck. satoru is deathly still, and you watched color bloom over his cheeks in the mirror.

“…you okay sato’?” the nickname drips off your tongue like honey—so effortless, so intimate, and he hates that you decided to use it right now. he can’t take it. you’ve never called him that, and he can hear the amused tilt in your voice.

satoru gulps, because he doesn’t know what to say. how does he say that he wants you to keep going, to keep brushing over that exact spot so he can pinpoint exactly what that feeling was just now? he’s never felt anything like that when he cut his own hair…

he settles on a weak little “i’m fine, baby,” because frankly? he doesn’t trust himself to say any other words right now.

you give him a little smile in the mirror before your hands start working again, and you finally start getting somewhere with actually cutting his damn hair. he doesn’t feel anything out of the ordinary happen anymore, and now he’s finally cleanly shaven again like he likes. you did an exceptional job, and satoru peppers you with kisses as a reward.

he mostly stops thinking about it after this.

yeah, maybe the thought lingers in the back of his head for a few hours after, and maybe he stands in the bathroom rubbing his thumb over the back of his neck for a little longer than considered normal, but it was fine.

except for when you call him down to finish watching the movie you’d started earlier, and he’s laying on your chest as you run your fingers through his hair. satoru isn’t even paying attention to what your hand is doing as he yaps about the plot of the film, and you listen.

“he’s a piece of shit! i mean, he stayed with his side piece on the plane, and made his wife drive in the snow? fuck mike ‘till it’s backwards.” satoru spits, his attention fully focused on the movie’s plot.

unlike you, who’s mind was still in the bathroom, cutting satoru’s hair.

you haven’t stopped thinking about the little noise he’d made as you’d accidentally pressed your finger over the nape of his neck, right where the hair started. he sounded so weak—so vulnerable, and you decided right then that you needed to hear much more of that.

your mind was now solely focused on one thing, and your hand was moving just as it was in the bathroom. you twirled your fingers around strands, until finally threading your fingers through his hair and giving a small tug. this tore a stuttered breath out of satoru, and you smiled. he’d gone a little more rigid against you, and his commentary had stopped as you payed so much attention to him. he was losing focus of the movie, too.

“b-babe,”

“hmm?” you hummed back, fingers now traveling from his hair to his lower neck, tracing small circles there. you knew what you were looking for, but why not tease a little first?

satoru couldn’t answer you if he tried—every word in his throat dies as you press down onto that spot once more, and he’s slamming his hand on-top of yours to make sure you don’t move it. he isn’t sure why he does that exactly, but why does it matter? why does anything matter when you’re touching him like this?

he can’t do this, just one press on his spot has his dick rising and stiff against your thigh, and even you can hardly believe it.

“sato.” you grip his hair to pull him off your chest, just enough to look at you. he whines from the mixture of the nickname and the sting of his scalp.

“b-baby, please.” satoru breathes. you know what he’s asking for, and you figured you’d done enough teasing for a while. you grin, rubbing your thumb back and forth over the pressure point back and forth, up and down, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he came just from this based on the sounds he was making. he hovers you, his arms barely holding his body up, and he’s heaving into your neck.

“breathe, satoru.”

“mmph—i will! i will, just please don’t stop,” satoru whines, his hips grinding down against your thigh. sure, this whole thing is embarrassing as hell, but he couldn’t help the cheeky grin that stretched across his face as you indulged him. as you ran your acrylics over the sensitive part of him, he dropped his head back into your shoulders, and his own started to shake violently.

he was laughing.

you were shocked by this, but you didn’t dare stop. at some point, you couldn’t help but snort a little as he grasped onto you. it was cute—the way his giggles melted into moans, the way he couldn’t control himself or his emotions in the moment. there were no coherent thoughts forming in his head except for fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

and you loved it that way.

#gojo x black reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk satoru #jjk x reader #jjk x black reader #black reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen satoru #satoru x black y/n #gojou satoru x you #satoru smut #syno’s picks 💌 #this idea is so funny to me #imagine just lightly touching the back of his neck bc you just like doing that and you’re a physical person and he just moans like LMAO #this also kinda goes into my touch starved gojo agenda but that’s a later convo 🫡

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia: (Part Twenty-Eight)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content/CW: Angst time baby

Notes: I'M BACK HI IM SORRY! Update to the surrogate tomorrow, and I'll be doing more shorts soon and hopefully more art. Love you all xoxoo Word count: 5547

The medical bay was silent, spare for a single pair of shoes tapping down the broad, white, sterile hallway. A nurse was hurrying herself on an errand; she’d been told that someone had been brought in from upstairs and needed an IV ASAP, and so she was carrying all of her equipment through the bay on a little sterile tray. Others might have been nervous at such an abrupt call, but she was just glad to be getting some practice in.

Miguel had enforced such rigid protections for his members that they barely saw anyone to treat, and it was making her attempt to get into practical experiences rather difficult. The pay was good, but she was hardly more than a glorified dispenser of aspirin at this point.

But now they apparently had someone to treat, and so she was trying her best to speedwalk and not run. She’d even written the hospital room door on her hand she was in such a hurry.

‘Room… 43…’ she murmured to herself, before coming to an abrupt skid as she realized she’d almost accidentally passed that exact room in her excitement.

She stopped, double-checked the note on her hand, and with a final pleased huff she pushed the room door aside.

‘Hi! I’m just bringing in—’

The nurse flinched and squealed, nearly throwing the metal tray into the air.

Before her was an enormous 9ft spider, one with the torso of a man attached, slumbering on top of a hospital bed that he’d promptly crushed beneath his weight. On his right was a man who looked nigh identical to him, if a little smaller, sporting an extremely sour expression, and on his left was a short tan man with a goofy grin and, of course, you.

You, Gabriel, and Miguel made instant eye contact with the nurse, focusing in on her with unblinking eyes.

‘Ah… y-you—’ She started to stammer, only for you to interrupt.

‘HEY! Hey, you’ve got the uh—is that going to be big enough?’ you blurted, rushing to check the IV. You held up the bag and compared it to Mig’s giant body, noting the way his abdomen slowly rose and fell as he breathed. It looked minuscule compared to him, more like a little sweet wrapper than an IV. The nurse remained rather shellshocked and refused to move, even as you began grabbing at her stuff with ungloved hands.

‘Ey, it uh- it looks kinda small, doesn’t it?’ Gabriel murmured. He was trying to act casually, but his eyes kept moving back over to the silent, stoically stiff Miguel standing in the corner of the room, his eyes fixed on the floor. Miguel didn’t respond.

‘Yeah… I guess we still haven’t updated everything to, accommodate for his size. Oh, Miggy…’ You put the bag back and gently started stroking his hair as he slept. Even in his sleep, he twitched in response to your touch.

The nurse wrinkled her nose in mild disturbance at the sight, but Gabriel leaned closer.

‘So, you uh… You two’ he said, his fingers going up and awkwardly crossing over as he gestured towards you and Mig intermittently. You turned your head just a little to see what he was implying before quickly turning back to Mig.

‘Yeah. Yeah, we uh- we’re, dating, I guess you could say. He says we’re mates’ you mumbled, still too focused on Mig to really think about your reply. Gabriel grunted in response.

‘Huh. So the big spider thing—’

‘Doesn’t bother me’ you murmured back. ‘He’s— It wasn’t his fault, that his body looks this way, and it’s not really that big a deal. He’s a really… A really beautiful person. Inside and out.’

‘You don’t have to tell me that’ Gabriel said with a wry smile, his lips tilting upward even as his brows knotted. For the first time then, you turned and looked at him properly.

‘… Right. You’re his, brother’ you repeated slowly. Gabriel’s smile widened a little. He looked so different to Miguel, sat with his knees up and his arms rested on them so casually, but you could see some of his traits in there. The eyes, the lips. They probably looked ever so similar as kids.

‘Um… You—’ You opened your mouth to speak but faltered, unable to find the proper words. You had so many questions, but you were torn between that and the need to take care of Miguel until he recovered from the venom.

‘Look, uh- I’ll go see if they have a bigger one of the IV bags’ you said, your voice garbled with worry. You rose up to head out only to feel resistance on your wrist, tugging you to a halt. You turned to see that both Gabriel and Miguel had attempted to stop you, and now the two were looking at each other.

‘I’ll… I’ll go’ Miguel grunted, abruptly releasing your wrist. You could see him avoiding everyone’s gaze at this point.

‘No! No, I’ll go’ Gabriel insisted, gently tugging your wrist in sharp contrast to his variant brother. ‘This is all my fault, so—’

‘Estupido. It’s not your fault’ Miguel said. He sounded exhausted, you thought. ‘It’s my fault, so I’ll fix it.’

‘I mean, it might be easier if both of us look, right?’ Gabriel continued to press the idea as he glanced between everyone in the room for agreement, even the slumbering paralyzed Mig. You noticed Miguel getting more and more tense as the man continued babbling and begging to be of use.

‘We can find it quicker, and… If we find it quicker, we can help fix Miguelito quicker, and, I mean if they’re his partner they should stay with him, right? So—’

‘Okay! Okay, we’ll both go look.’ Miguel’s sharp voice cut Gabriel off mid-sentence, betraying a small crack in his tone he clearly had been trying to hide. You opted to just step back, letting them go ahead. You could tell Miguel was tense, and for once you didn’t want to push his buttons.

‘Okay. You guys come back soon’ you murmured, and with a nod to both you returned to Mig’s side. He stirred in his sleep, snuffling his beautiful nose against the broken bed, and it took all your strength to not just bury yourself against him.

You heard the men leaving by their heavy footsteps on the cold hospital floor, closely followed by the nurse as she rushed to avoid the giant spider whom you continued to cradle against your lap. Soon all you could hear was the beep of the monitor and the snoring in his throat,

‘Mi amor’ you whispered once alone, right against his temple. ‘My beautiful Miggy…’

Back in the corridor, Miguel was in agony. It was a turmoil he thought he’d pushed away, a pain he thought he’d escaped. He’d tried consciously to avoid Gabriel as they took Mig to the hospital bay, but… He also couldn’t seem to stay away.

His version of Gabriel had passed years ago, and he’d done everything he thought he was meant to do. He’d screamed, and he’d cried, and he’d clawed at himself and he’d locked everyone out, only to crawl back after suppressing every little thing he could.

He’d come to terms with it. He’d come to terms with his brother’s absence. But now, he was here again.

Beside him was the smiling ghost of a man he’d unconditionally loved. A zombie, an empty husk, who he didn’t know how to view as a real person. The human mind, no matter how evolved, was not built to handle this kind of mourning. No one could ever be taught how to brace for the reality of seeing their loved one alive again, only for them to not remember you exist, to have never known you existed.

Gabriel stayed silent as they walked, but every so often he’d mutter something or stumble into Miguel’s side, reminding him of the man’s presence. Miguel felt the agony build until it felt like he was wading through mud.

Without a word, Miguel pushed into the storage area and began searching for anything larger that might suit Mig. It’d taken a backseat to his feelings over Gabriel being here, but, he also couldn’t deny the guilt he felt over Mig being paralyzed.

He knew he’d be okay, but the way Mig had stepped out to drag him to safety, after all he’d done… it haunted him just as much. He hadn’t just covered your body, or Gabriel’s body, he’d covered *his* body too, despite knowing he’d survive his own venom.

‘Estupido’ Miguel murmured under his breath as he searched. What was that man’s deal?

‘Hm? Did you say something?’

Miguel froze as Gabriel peered around the drawers at him. ‘Did ya say something?’ he asked. Miguel scowled.

‘No’ he grunted, before turning away. Gabriel felt his brows sink a little, but, he did go back to searching as well.

They ended up searching for nearly 10 minutes in silence, until Gabriel just couldn’t take it anymore. He turned and glanced at Miguel across the room, only to find that he’d gone still. He wasn’t even really searching anymore. How long he’d been like that, Gabriel couldn’t tell.

‘Ey, uh… Miguel?’

Miguel didn’t even respond to the sound of his name being called. He was disassociating too hard at this point. Gabriel’s voice still hurt him every time he heard it. It triggered the most painful memories, things he never wanted to dwell on, things that crept up on him in his most lonely moments, and yet there was inherent joy to them too.

His brother's stupid smiling face, dragging him by the hand across the park near their house during the peak of summer, promising him that he’d found something cool he wanted to show him. He remembered cicadas, and the heat making the sky wavy, and Gabriel wanting to run regardless of how exhausted he looked. He smiled the whole damn way.

Why that memory, Miguel didn’t know, but he held it like a babe in his arms. He let it wash over him.

‘What do you think of this one?’ Gabriel said, ignoring Miguel’s silence. He held up a huge IV bag, one nearly the size of his torso, letting out a grunt of a laugh as he did so. He was always covering up his nervousness with laughter. ‘It’s pretty big, right? Is it big ENOUGH though? Or TOO big?’ he continued to mumble.

Slowly, Miguel closed his eyes.

‘… How do I mourn you, hermanito?’ Miguel blurted, his voice openly cracking as it filled the empty air.

Gabriel stayed where he was, his arms bundled with items. He could have said something, anything, to ease the tension, but for once he kept his lips shut. He stayed still and he listened.

‘How do you mourn someone properly, in a multiverse?’ Miguel continued, talking more to himself than to Gabriel at this point. ‘When you lose someone… You pick up a picture, to ease the pain, to remind yourself they existed, and to pretend that they’re still here. But, ultimately, you have to come to terms with the fact that they’re gone, right?’

‘Ah… r-right’ Gabriel replied slowly. Miguel clenched his fist around an empty IV bag, watching the air deflate, hiding that it was just an excuse to cover the soft break in his voice.

‘I see your face… everywhere’ he choked, a barely discernible crack in his tone. ‘I watch you living, and my brain convinces me that it's you, that it's him, mi hermanito. And I stop mourning, because you’re alive. But… But it’s not, him. You’re not him. And I have to remember that, every time…’

Finally his voice broke audibly, and Gabriel felt his heart sink. The larger man was bent over as if he’d been kicked in the gut, and yet he remained utterly still.

‘I have to keep mourning you, over and over and over. I keep… mourning, him. How do I accept someone’s dead when they’re in front of me?’ Miguel asked no one in particular. ‘How do I mourn the—’

Miguel froze as a hand suddenly came down and clapped him on the back. He turned to find Gabriel holding him from behind, the fool gently tucked in against his hunched, muscular back. His head was turned to the side but Miguel could just about see his eyes.

‘I uh- I think I understand’ he said gently. Miguel held his breath.

‘You’re my brother from another universe, right? And… The version of me, here, he’s uh… dead.’

He said it so calmly, so matter-of-factly. It broke something in Miguel, especially as he continued to hold him close.

‘Yeah,’ he said, sounding utterly broken. ‘Yeah…’

‘I mean… I’m just glad to know, that even in another universe, you still cared about me’ Gabriel said softly. ‘I mean you almost tricked me into thinking you were my Miguelito, so, you gotta be decently similar. And…’

He paused and looked up again, his soft brown eyes darting over Miguel’s face. ‘Hey, if your Gabriel was anything like me? If I’m a good enough dupe to make you feel better, then… He cared about you a lot, hermano. He knew. Even at the end.’

Miguel went stiff as he spoke. He refused to crack, refused to break. Not here. Not now.

‘You’re still my hermano’ Gabriel said gently. Miguel scowled, his face twisted as if furious, only to feel one tear slide down his cheek. He immediately wiped it away.

‘You’re…. you’re, still…’ Miguel tried to speak only to falter. No. He couldn’t say, you’re still mi hermanito. It wasn’t good for him. He internally pushed it all down and let out a deep, tired sigh.

‘That- bag will do fine’ Miguel said slowly, pointing to the one in his hands. Gabriel glanced down at it to hide his disappointment that Miguel seemed to want to drop the subject, but regardless, he nodded.

‘Sure. Let’s head back then.’

…

Back in the room, you were almost asleep on Mig’s side. You’d been up all night now waiting for him to wake, and with the boys gone it’d been easy to slip into your own exhaustion.

It was while your eyes were closed that Mig finally stirred awake. He was utterly exhausted, his eyes barely capable of staying open, but something compelled him to move. Your scent. The warm smell of his mate, someone whose hormone signature was ingrained and etched into his mind.

His sweet arañita…

‘Mm… mi tesoro’ he murmured softly with eyes still closed. In his head he was back in bed at the nest, curled up with your body beside him. He was savoring the warmth, the simplicity of holding his precious person to his heart. ‘Mi tesoro…’

His words woke you from your own sleep, stirring you right awake. You jumped up so fast that you almost fell. ‘Shit- ah, Mig? Mig?!’ Your hands flew to his furry abdomen, gripping handfuls of his fur to gently shake him awake. ‘Mig?!’

Mig grunted and forced his eyes open as he realized this wasn’t part of a dream. His big red eyes blinked once, twice, three times, slowly focusing in on the familiar sight of your face. ‘Mi… mi tesoro?’ he murmured, a slightly dorky smile creeping onto his chiseled, gruff face. ‘Mi tesoro—’

Your face grew clearer, clearer, until it hit him all at once. He remembered. His mind was filled with memories of you as he leaped through the portal, of his body instinctively rushing to cover your body from harm, to shield you even when he had no idea what was going into his own skin.

He remembered the relief, even through the pain, feeling your body under his own, and he remembered…

‘Mi amor.’

He whispered the words now in mild horror, realizing he’d said them out loud without thinking. You stared back with burning cheeks, feeling like your whole body was on fire. You knew all he’d want to do was address that whole fiasco, but right now, you had more on your mind.

‘Oh thank GOD you’re awake’ you cried, immediately flinging your arms around his waist. You squeezed Mig with all your might, feeling his hard abs press and squish into your cheek as his pectorals heaved above your head. You refused to let go for anything or anyone.

‘I… arañita? What- What happened?’ Mig asked in a stilted voice.

‘The um- uh, the security system, it tried to paralyze Gabriel. You jumped to shield everyone from it hitting’ you said, deliberately leaving out Mig’s sudden confession from the rundown. Mig felt a little relieved at that, and yet, part of him also yearned for you to acknowledge it.

But, when you didn’t, he just nodded. ‘Ah- is that what those needles were?’ he murmured. He glanced down at himself then, at his enormous body crushing the hospital bed to pieces, now sitting in a strange and sterile room. His fur bristled.

‘Hmm… Ey, thank god. I was—’

‘You really jumped not knowing what they were?’ you asked in shock. ‘You- were you willing to just… Take a deadly hit right there?’

Mig, to your horror, just nodded. He even shrugged. ‘That is my job. I am your mate. I am the bigger one. I throw myself in front, and—’

‘No! No, Mig you- your life is not forfeit for mine’ you stammered in horror. He remained aloof, his big red eyes unbothered by the idea, much to your continued horror.

‘Why not?’ he murmured, seemingly confused. ‘It is my instinct. It is my duty. To protect you.’

‘Miggy I would much, MUCH rather you saved yourself than risk it for me, I wouldn’t—’

‘But I would’ Mig repeated, gently putting a finger to your lips. He looked so serene in contrast to your emotional turmoil. ‘I would. Happily. Mi tesoro… Eres el alma de mi vida. Mi pequeño.’

‘You… idiot’ you croaked, your face getting a little wavery as your lips quivered against his clawed finger. ‘Don’t… You’re worth a million more to me alive than dead. I… I need you.’

Mig’s eyes softened from their aloofness as he saw the earnestness in your eyes. He lowered his finger, watching as you gripped it between your hands and let your forehead fall against his. He even bent to match your height, nestling his nose and cheek against your own. Like cats greeting each other, you rubbed and nestled your faces together in that silent room.

You felt his rough cheekbones on your forehead, your jaw, and his sharp, thick nose brushing against your own. His lips brushed yours intermittently, and each brush made you shudder. His breath was so warm, so soft, so sweet.

It took a while for you to speak again.

‘I… Miggy, you… You said, before you were paralyzed—’

‘Don’t say it.’

His soft, husky voice drew you to a staggered halt. Your eyes fluttered open and met his, nose to nose and forehead to forehead. His parted lips panted his hot breath into your mouth.

Slowly his hand came up to your chin, holding it in place. His abdomen bristled a little harder. His eyes began to close, and so did yours. You leaned in to kiss him.

‘I—’

The two of you were interrupted then as Miguel and Gabriel finally came back inside, their hands throwing the door open at nearly the same time. You awkwardly withdrew from the kiss and brushed yourself off.

‘HERMANO!’

Without thinking Gabriel dropped the IV equipment and ran forward, grasping Mig by the face. With the spider's legs folded his brother could see him eye to eye, and immediately he began squishing his cheeks together, forcing the man’s confused lips to pout.

‘Mi hermano, ¿Estás despierto?’ Gabriel stammered.

‘I am- making eye contact with you, brother’ Mig said back, his words garbled by his pouted lips. ‘I am awake, yes.’

‘Oh… Oh, yeah! Good to see you didn’t forget Spanish when you got turned into a spider’ Gabriel cheerily replied.

Mig’s brows furrowed further, even while still trapped in his brother's hands. ‘I- do spiders innately lack the capacity to speak Spanish?’ he murmured back. ‘Apparently not!’ Gabriel cried in response, his own face ripped into a wide grin, and for the first time Mig slowly began to smile back.

‘You… You, hermanito, you have not changed’ he said sadly. Gabriel shrugged almost awkwardly. ‘Ah, not compared to you, no. You changed a LOT. But you are still mi Miguelito.’

As Gabriel moved backward and released Mig’s face, the spider's smile faded. He realized then the full gravity of their reunion, the fact that this even was a reunion at all, after so, so many years.

‘Gabriel, I—’

‘Oye. Ah, you, hey.’

You jumped as you realized Miguel was gently pointing his finger at you, rudely poking about an inch from your face. He darted his eyes to the other side of the room. ‘You uh- could you help me set up his IV bag? I think the nurse is um, too… scared, to come back’ Miguel said slowly.

At first, you were about to argue, but then you realized why he was prodding you. He was trying to get you to leave so Mig and Miguel could discuss things with a little more privacy.

‘Oh… Oh! Right, right, yeah. Friggin’ nurse. Ah- I’ll be right back, Miggy’ you quickly replied, giving Mig a kiss on the cheek before rising to your feet. You hurried off with Miguel to the corner of the room where you pulled a curtain, pretending that was any kind of real privacy as you tried to figure out how an IV bag worked for as long as possible.

Mig opened his mouth to stop you but he quickly picked up on your plan as well. His raised hands lowered, and he slowly, painfully, turned to face his estranged brother. Gabriel met him with a grin.

‘I can’t believe I found you’ he murmured, almost like he was whispering in a dream. Mig’s brows went up and his face sank.

‘You… Gabriel, it- it’s been, nearly a decade since—’

‘I never stopped looking!’

Mig paused again, surprised by Gabriel’s intensity as he cried those four simple words. They echoed around the empty room, lingering over the two siblings.

‘Never’ Gabriel insisted with a soft choke. ‘Never, Miguelito.’

‘You—cannot, call me that anymore’ Mig murmured in response, his abdomen shifting back and forth on the broken hospital bed. He was unsure how to deal with the flood of emotions that caused him. ‘I am 9ft tall, Gabriel.’

To his surprise, Gabriel spluttered with laughter at his response. ‘You- Miguelito, I called you that when you were 6ft at fifteen years old. I don’t care how big you get.’

Mig darted his eyes, trying his best to keep his gaze stuck to the wall, but he couldn’t help it. He kept returning to Gabriel’s quiet, dorky smile, and he kept feeling his own lips slowly twitching upwards too.

‘You… You- yes, I suppose you have always been, a fool’ Mig said slowly.

‘What happened, Miguel?’ Gabriel asked, his smile slowly drifting away to be replaced with a decade of heartache. Mig’s eyes darkened.

‘… Gabriel, that…’ He paused and huffed softly, searching for the strength to do this. ‘I… I was caught up at Alchemax. I wanted to blow the whistle on their gene-spicing experiments, t-they were using my work to hurt people, and- they tried to drug me, to keep me in line. I attempted to use the gene-splicing machine I created to free myself, only… They knew. They knew, and they used it against me.’

He gestured vaguely at his body. ‘And now, I’m—’

‘No! No, no, not that’ Gabriel suddenly interjected, causing Miguel to frown a little.

‘No… but, that is what—’

‘No! I… I figured out what happened to you Mig, I followed up all the clues at the old building. What I meant, was… Why did you never reach out?

Mig’s abdomen sank at those words. He stammered, unsure of how to explain. ‘I… I’m a monster, Gabriel’ he murmured, the only thing he could think to say. The words tumbled from his mouth like stones, heavy and painful to express. ‘I’m a monster. I—’

‘No, you’re not’ Gabriel insisted, curtly cutting his brother off. Mig floundered with confusion at his reply.

‘I’m a monster! I- I HURT people, Gabriel, I—’

‘I don’t care.’

‘Of course you care!’ Mig whined, unable to muster the strength to truly cry out. ‘Of course, you care, I-I could have hurt you, you—’

‘I don’t. I don’t’ Gabriel repeated, again, and again, and again. ‘Nothing could ever change this. You’re my brother.’

Miguel felt his breathing getting faster, harder, almost desperate. ‘I’m not- I’m not, a- I’m not, him, I’m—’

‘You’re my brother, Miguelito. You’re my brother.’

Those simple words, spoken right from the heart as Gabriel faced him head-on, broke Mig’s resolve at last. His lip quivered, and the two men into a sudden embrace, holding each other tightly. Miguel squeezed the life out of the smaller man as Gabriel choked, but he made no attempt to push him off.

‘I’m glad you never stopped looking’ Mig blurted with a soft sob. ‘I’m so glad.’

Gabriel’s eyes sank behind Miguel’s back.

‘I… I do have a confession though’ he said, slowly shifting out of Mig’s grip with a soft, repeated tap to his shoulder. Mig reluctantly let him go.

‘You… what do you mean, hermanito?’ he murmured. Gabriel pursed his lips. He looked almost guilty, at least from the outside, but for what Mig couldn’t tell.

Without a word, Gabriel slowly held up a picture he had tucked inside his jeans pocket. It was old and crinkled, and as Mig hesitantly took it he was forced to unfold it bit by bit.

Mig’s breath hitched. It was a picture of a child. A little girl with Gabriel’s eyes and hair, smiling toothlessly at the camera. The spider felt his whole heart drop. ‘This… this is—’

‘Micaela’ Gabriel said softly. Mig felt that word etched into his mind, that soft name with the little accent on the ‘c’. He let out a stuttered whimper.

‘Mic… Micaela?’ he repeated back. Gabriel pursed his lips a little.

‘I never stopped looking, Miguel’ he murmured. ‘I just, thought… I’d keep you close, this way. Because I never knew if he’d be successful. But I never stopped.’

Mig’s face twisted, his brows knotting as he glanced back down at the little picture in his clawed hands. He hadn’t realized they were shaking. He blinked, hard, only to see a small see-through tear hit the crumpled paper. ‘She- your, offspring, she is…’

‘She’s only two’ Gabriel whispered. Mig’s eyes softened. He saw that baby and wondered if she had Gabriel’s voice, his laugh, or if she had her own little laugh. He wondered if she laughed a lot. He wondered if she was angry like he had been as a child, or small and sweet like Gabriel had been.

His niece. His little niece.

Mig went to make another comment, complimenting her eyes, only to notice that Gabriel wasn’t smiling anymore. He slowly turned from the picture to face him.

‘She’s…. sick. And I’m not smart enough to help her.’

Gabriel spoke the words slowly, and the room went silent. Behind the curtain you and Miguel had locked eyes over the IV bag, having been unwillingly listening this entire time. You were horrified for the two men, while Miguel was on the verge of tears. He looked utterly miserable at this revelation, almost too shocked to move or speak.

‘Gabriel…’ Mig murmured, clearly also in shock. ‘You—’

‘You were always the science nerd between the two of us’ Gabriel teased, letting out a slightly teary laugh. ‘Right? I swear, I didn’t just go looking for you to help, but… I do. She’s got a really rare disorder that they don’t know how to fix in our universe. With Alchemax dead, all that research is gone, and… I need you, back in my life. I went searching because I need your help to heal her.’

Mig slowly lowered the little picture in his hands, his eyes moving from it to Gabriel.

‘You… You want, my help?’ he asked slowly.

‘I NEED your help, Miguelito’ Gabriel insisted. He reached out and put Miguel’s hand over his heart, holding it tight to his chest. ‘I need it. She’s my world, Mig. I need your help.’

Mig’s face softened. ‘I… I, want to help, I just—’

‘We’ll help!’

The two brothers spun to see that Miguel had kicked the adjoining curtain covering himself and you to the ground, creating a violent clattering noise to accompany his cry.

He was heaving, his eyes wildly red and his face even redder, his chest heaving with each deep and shaky breath.

‘Ah- Miguel you—’

‘We’ll help!’ Miguel repeated, cutting Mig off. ‘You can have the whole damn society at your hands, a-all of my tech, all my research, it—’

‘Miguel, are you sure?’ Mig asked. He was clearly hopeful in tone, something you quickly picked up, and when Miguel furiously nodded, he seemed to sigh with relief.

‘Yes. I’m sure’ Miguel insisted again. He stormed over and looked at Gabriel with a forced stiff lip.

‘I will help you’ he repeated. He was forcing himself to look at Gabriel so he didn’t see the little picture in Mig’s rough, clawed hands, knowing the sight would break him beyond what he could take. He just focused in on Gabriel’s relieved, teary, beaming face, and knew that that was enough.

‘Thank you’ Gabriel rasped, his throat wet and tight from emotion. ‘Thank you…’

The group took a moment just to relax, to settle, as Gabriel wiped his eyes and Mig wiped his, and Miguel tried to focus on anything but that picture. Luckily Gabriel stepped over to take it away after a minute or two, tucking it back into his jeans where he kept it beside his wallet.

As you stepped over Gabriel happened to glance down, noticing the horribly made IV set up in your hands. He snorted, wiping his eyes as he laughed. ‘Oh, you did a terrible job of that.’

Your eyes darted from his face to the bag and back. ‘I… I did?’

‘Oh, yeah. Micaela needs one right now, I know how to do ‘em off by heart’ he said, sounding strangely cheery and nonchalant. You slowly got an idea.

‘Oh, um- could you, help me do this properly then?’ you asked, gingerly holding the bag out for him to see. He gave it one quick runover before giving it a thumbs up.

‘Mm! Yeah. I can do that. Come on, new uh- sibling in law, I suppose’ he said, that soft charm leaking through as he led you off to get yet another IV bag to try and set up for poor Mig, who at this point really didn’t even need one.

Mig and Miguel faced each other then, as you and Gabriel moved away to talk.

They said so much without speaking a word. Perhaps too much.

Miguel felt his eyes getting tearing, despite his clenched jaw wrung tight to keep them at bay. Mig felt the same. They made the same stoic, painfully tight expression at each other as they forced the pain back.

‘I miss him so much’ Miguel whispered, and that was all he could get out, the most honest words in his heart said to the only other person in the multiverse who would understand.

Mig’s brows went up and his lip shook just once.

‘I know.’

Without thinking the two men fell together. Miguel let his forehead fall onto Mig’s shoulder as the larger version of himself rested his cheek on his hair, and they stayed like that for a good minute or so of silence.

At that moment, they both finally felt understood. Despite their animosity, their anger, and their strange rivalry, they both understood.

‘You’re a good person, uh… Mig’ Miguel said, finally using his variant's nickname. It was the first acknowledgment he’d made that he was a person, a different person to him, and not just a painful reflection. ‘You are.’

Mig bristled and rustled his abdomen. He was fighting his territorial urges, his instincts, just to hold the other man, but he refused to back down. He wanted this. ‘You are, also, a…. well. You, want to be a good person, Miguel’ Mig replied gently. ‘And I believe you can be.’ Link to next part

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #smut #arachnophilia #miguel o'hara smut #drider #monster human relationship #gabriel o'hara #miguel o'hara au

[dwter]

hey everyone, so ive had a lot of time at this point to ruminate and have had conversation after conversation about everything going on and i truly and genuinely mean this when i say i think so much of my thinking and immediate reactions were entirely based in fear, anxiety and grief that i didn't give myself the ability to view the situation as it is.

ill say from the beginning ive always chosen to view this in a worst case scenario perspective. not just for myself, but also i think dismissing the victim ESPECIALLY those using anything to dismiss her literally instantly is really icky and so ive always looked at this with the perspective of everything (more or less) being true. now with that in mind--i dont think this entire thing was nearly as black and white as i initially thought it was. im saying it straight to save everyone the time to try and figure out my perspective, but after talking with people and thinking about real life, how people irl would view this and DO view it and other instances of this exact scenario happening both online and in real life: this is truly just not the horrible morally bankrupt incident i thought it was.

i thought a lot about how i wanted to go about explaining my perspective or if i even wanted to bc i really didnt want this to he seen as "dream defense" or align myself with the people who have had that stance since the absolute beginning bc they are srsly insane, but this is more for myself and for anyone who felt like they didnt have a perspective they resonated with throughout all of this. this is one of the first instances where i felt a genuine dissonance between my thoughts and feelings and my friends in the community whose thoughts i have always always valued above anything else, often even my own, especially when i was struggling with feeling conflicted out of fear and grief. i always clung to the people whose opinions i trusted (and still do trust dont get me wrong) because it felt easier than having to sort my guilty and scared conscience into rationality that could possibly oppose the people ive always looked to for guidance in discourse. just that fear on being on the wrong side of history and such. but like i said, this long winded and horribly overserious essay is for me more than anyone else--if not for people who have struggled with the exact same shitty time.

ill say the absolute first thing: it was not grooming. i held this opinion literally the entire time and people calling it grooming are not only using the term wrong but genuinely causing harm to such a serious topic. we are talking about two adults in a relationship with an age difference of four years like holy shit. when the first girl dropped her story, almost everyone came to the conclusion that it just wasnt that serious because he thought she was 18. with the second girl, she was one month from 18 and the dms from before turning such were genuinely the driest conversations in the world that he never initiated or made any notion of pursuing. this isnt to say you cant be icked out--the point of me talking about this isnt to make you suddenly change your views on anything but to try and claim that it was grooming or a crime took place is just wrong and dishonest of everyone. this is such a large part of where my personal dissonance with everyone's takes came from bc the way people were trying to claim that liking an 18 year old as a 22 year old was something akin to literal pedophilia (<- bc people WERE genuinely saying this) made me feel confused but also deeply guilty because i really just did not understand. and now that im less miserable, i can recognize that that confusion wasnt just linked to parasocialism or whatever deep twisted thing i thought was in my soul, it was literally just not the big insane evil everyone made it out to be. again, this isnt to try and say you individually cant be like "i dont like this" or "this is icky to me" or "this was bad judgement on his part" (<- which is my personal view btw) but to pretend it is some strange insane act of an active predator genuinely boggles my mind. i dont want to chalk everything up to being covidbrained but i think its a huge part of where this dissonance to real life comes from because i really do think if most of you sit down with genuinely and utterly normal people, they will not give a fuck about this. ive SEEN people have conversations about this with noemal people irl and have them literally laugh in their face bc of how deeply unserious it is. and again, i want to reenforce that doesnt mean YOU dont have to care, but to act as if this isnt an objectively undeep incident between two people is odd, especially to the degree ive seen.

now i cant just say this and be done so lets talk about the next part that people had an issue with: fan and creator power dynamic. ill also say this very straight: when the stuff came out with both girls i had a much larger issue with the "age gaps" than i did this for so many reasons. ive always, even before all of this, had my own opinions and such about ccs and fans ever having relationships and it usually along the basis of "as long as there is consent and mutuality, i have no real issue." its not strange to me that people want to be with people they like and idealize and vice versa. to keep this as objective as i can with this perspective, i wont get into thoughts that for dream specifically it especially doesnt surprise me in the sense that his past relationship + facing vitriol from every corner of the internet but fans + overall paranoia could have absolutely reenforced the normalcy and reasoning in this judgement call but i digress. i mean just obvious examples of people wanting to get with celebrities, or groupies or even in platonic ways where fans become genuine and actual friends of creators--ccs having relationships with fans was never a big deal to me personally. and since its relevant to mention in this case, ESPECIALLY online ones. im not saying there cant be power imbalances among a fan and a cc/celebrity, but to get like theyre all inherently like that again just makes zero sense to me and never has even before dream. this applies especially online where power dynamics are significantly dampened from what they can be and just i mean logically, dream has been a full blown cc for like a little less than 3 years and only at this level for maybe 1 or 2 without experiencing it in real life too. the idea that he himself would not see an issue with this, especially because it was a mutual exchange of company, is so completely unsurprising. and at its core, there really is no real issue in it of itself. a bad judgement call from dream? yes and ill stand by that since he shouldve been better safe than sorry. morally bankrupt and manipulative? 😭 no, not after really assessing shit rationally. i also want to add that it was a mutual thing. i know people are really trying to tear everything amanda says apart (<- which is incredibly strange btw, especially if that was your instant reaction and you were doing it publicly too), but taking everything shes saying as true, we know that there was a MUTUAL exchange of things of a sexual nature and this wasnt some manipulative one-sided exchange where dream controlled everything and gave nothing in return. this isnt to say that amandas feelings are entirely invalid or anything along those lines, but those feelings stem from miscommunication and not morally bankrupt predatory behaviours. like seeing all of the info and looking at the situation as it is, its very clear dream saw and believed this to be a mutual relationship. i was so confused and scared and panicked seeing words like "groomer", "innocent", "guilty", "predator" and others being thrown around i didnt even want to try viewing it for myself. but now that i have and now that ive talked to others, this entire situation reads as a bad break up more than anything else, not a strange manipulative abuse of power where mutuality is nonexistent.

overall this entire situation was framed so horrifically and i was tearing myself apart so much about feeling confused, it genuinely did not hit me the extent of just how deeply unserious it was until a friend of mine told me how they went out with their normal, most unchronically online friend, told the situation in the most objective way possible, and they literally laughed in their fucking face 😭 i also started thinking about real life instances of this happening like if it was another cc, a random tiktoker, an actor and realizing i literally would not care--and significantly less people who are as up in arms as they are would care too. and that ignores the fact that it was ONLINE, compared to in-person where whatever power dynamic could exist would be amplified by a thousand.

this entire thing is just so entirely subjective and if your personal opinions and values find this all shitty, absolutely no one is going to try and say to feel otherwise, at least not me. but to completely ignore that its just that--personal--values and opinions that determine how you view this, and act as though it is objectively some morally bankrupt, impossible to understand, predatory situation just feels reactionary and disconnected from real life at best and just shitty and even virtue signalling at worst. and also dont get me started on what some of you twisted that charity event in technos memory into because fucking shame on you, but ill make a separate post on that later maybe.

this really isnt meant to be a form of "dream defense" because if i was taught anything this past week it was that the way i connected so much of my own conscience to my ability to defend dream and his pr was and is entirely unhealthy, and it was all a wake up call--just not towards dream. the level of miserable agony i experienced, not even mostly because of what dream did, but because i felt like i couldnt DEFEND it, was dangerously all consuming and i dont want that anymore. its just not a healthy way to engage with any media, the need to constantly justify it in every single instance, and especially not with a cc. i want to be able to just see drama and controversy ride out and not have it feel so utterly all consuming, even if i do choose to comment on it. im making this statement bc like i said, it really sucked to feel like there was no public voice i completely agreed with and i realized that i could do that role if i wanted. and honestly, its just been very cathartic for me to write all of this out after feeling like an echo chamber of other peoples thoughts and my own grief the last week.

this community disappointed me in many ways, both the freaks who jumped on any baseless thread disproving amandas claims, dissected her behaviour, was very strangely dream defensive and chose to do all that shit PUBLICLY too. but also the people who chose to use this as an opportunity to act in the most reactionary strange ways that felt so virtue signal-y it was nauseating. i know the people who held/hold the views i did also dealt with the guilt and fear i did too, and thus no one was willing to so deal with the mortifying ordeal of a) sorting through these thoughts and b) saying them in any kind of public space even with just close friends, but ESP on a public blog. i mean, that was literally me. but it really fucking sucked to have just these two extremely polarizing and extremely isolating opinions be the only available voices 😭 my thoughts are getting very rambley now and i apologize, but i hope my points are getting across.

this is already insanely long, but ill start wrapping up. if you disagree with me, obviously thats fine. like i said, this was never made with the objective to change peoples minds which arguably was what my usual dream discourse essays was meant for sometimes. this was made for me and for this specific perspective to have light for anyone who wants or needs it. all i hope is that if you do come out of this with anything, is some form of awareness. of either real life, your opinions or even just yourself i dont know.

i really did love my time on tumblr so so fucking much. and i loved the people here even more so. i think i owe it all to you guys and just my blog itself to say my thoughts on shit, no matter if any of you agree or not. plus i mean if this flops i surely never have to face the consequences if im leaving anyways so peepoClap. thank you all so much for everything, and if you made it this far, thank you so much for taking the time to read my bullshit. i dont know if after this ill still leave, but regardless, it feels wrong to not make some homage to such an impactful place in my life. impactful people too :)

thank u all for reading again, and good fucking night !

#this is maybe the longest tumblr post ive ever made but i think it needed to be #i bet lots of you are sick of reading about this too but this still felt important to post #i already said so much in the essay itself so i wont keep going in the tags too #just love u all very much. stay safe everyone ❤️ #hope this brings some perspective to anyone if they want it :) #dream situation #discourse

[sorcerersseestars]

 his eyes, your ears [part iv]

series masterlist

Gojo Satoru x reader

summary: There was a time when you called him best friend, but those days escaped you long ago. There’s no way he’s alive – right? With the depth of his betrayal still lingering in your heart and mind, what would his reappearance spell for your life?

pairing: gojo satoru x gn! reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

warnings: cursing, lowkey a little mental torture, TW! s*xual a*sault (forced kiss), violence!!, one instance of vomiting (sry), immoral and creepy Geto, reader is kinda anxious nonstop (like writer like reader?), some details are non-canon (a/n 2.0 at end explains), also it’s slow for the first half but picks up I promise, I think I made Geto sound British???, also I made Hanami act like a mom kinda 💀 uh…im going to call it comic relief?

word count: 6.7k. oof.

a/n: I am literally SO SORRY that this has been sitting in my drafts for so long but… life happens! Along those lines – I wrote 1/2 of this in September and 1/2 of it in May, so it might be a bit disjointed sorryyy hehe

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“Then you’ll have to live with disappointment,” He flashes you an all-too-pleased-with-himself smile. “Becaaause it’s totally permanently in your phone now.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, right. As if I wouldn’t be able to delete a contact.”

He has a devilish smirk on his face, but his voice is annoyingly innocent and cheerful. “Go ahead, try!”

You gasp. “Gojo! Did you jailbreak my new phone?!”

“Uh, uh! That not what my contact reads as!” He snatches your phone from your hands, and points a large finger to the tiny name on your screen. “It’s ‘My Beloved Best Friend Satoru’!”

“Satoru,” You say dangerously. “Erase this or I’ll erase you from existence.”

He chuckles. “Oh, I’d love to see you try. You’re cute when you try to beat me.”

Your mouth opens and closes as you try to find words, and you try to ignore the heat on your cheeks. “S-Satoru! You asshole, give me my phone back!”

He holds it high above your head, a wide smile lingering on his face. He’s having way too much fun with this. You jump, trying to swat it out of his hand, but to no avail.

“Why did you even do this?” You grumble, sighing. “What, is it ‘how many ways can I torture (Y/N) in the span of a few hours’ day?”

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re weak, remember? You gotta have me on speed dial if you want to survive in this line of work.”

First, your eyes widen at his blunt statement. Then you sigh again, this time a bit sadly. “Wow, you have so much faith in me…thanks.”

“You never know what’s out there,” Gojo says. “If you ever have any trouble, call me.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Is this a prank? I thought you hated ‘helping the weak’.”

“I’m serious, (Y/N),” He says firmly. “I’ll always pick up. Abuse the privilege, whatever, I don’t care. Just don’t die.”

Your head snaps towards him, mouth hanging open with shock. “Satoru, what…? I’m not going to…”

You fall silent. There’s no guarantee of that.

He steps closer to you, closer than what you’d consider friendly. Your heart skips a beat.

“Just do it, okay? I’ll always be on the other end.”

Always, huh? But now…

Ring, ring, ring. You bite your lip, pressing your phone hard against your ear, as if his voice will appear if you wish it enough. Ring, ring, ring.

“Please…” You whisper. “Come on, come on.”

Your breath hitches as the distinctive timbre of Satoru’s voice fills your ear, but your shoulders fall almost immediately.

“Hey, sorry I’ve missed your call! If you close your eyes, recite my name five times, and spin around twice, I might get back to ya! No exceptions – not even–”

You sigh and hang up before you’re put through to voice mail. It’s not like he’ll listen to it, anyway.

He’s been avoiding you. You haven’t seen him for days – six, to be exact. It’s been five days since Shoko deemed you well enough to recover at home, despite the worryingly slow rate that your cursed energy has been returning. You were released with the promise you wouldn’t exert yourself and absolutely would not use any cursed energy. All the while, you had childishly held two crossed fingers behind your back – your promise was as empty as you felt.

You should have expected this; this shouldn’t hurt so much. Gojo is the strongest sorcerer the world has seen for hundreds of years. He never runs from his foes – he doesn’t need to. When it comes to facing emotions, however, he is all but mighty. Whenever his emotions run high, overflowing until they begin to leak out into broad daylight, he turns tail and practically erases himself from existence. It’s nearly impossible to find him – he mysteriously leaves no trace, even for an experienced tracker like you.

You left Shoko with an empty smile and promise, and Gojo has done just the same. Despite him swearing that he’d be back to see you, Gojo is nowhere to be found. You’ve dropped by at the school multiple times, even asking his students if they knew of his whereabouts, but nobody has been able to give you an answer.

He’s been dodging your calls, letting it ring until his chirpy voicemail message mocks you. The text messages you leave go unread, unopened.

When you hopelessly reopen your chat with him, you can’t help but bite yoru nails as you stare at the wall of blue on your screen. Message after message – unfinished thoughts, apologies, words full of urgency and desperation – are left by trembling hands bloodied by your own worry.

‘I’m the strongest,’ He always says, so why does fear spike in your veins at the thought of Geto finding him? 

Even though his own arrogant words ring through your head, you can’t quell the anxiety that threatens to wreak havoc over your fragile state. You’re worried, so worried, and it bleeds into the rest of your life: you’re all over the place, constantly forgetting appointments and important items, you are inexplicably tense, your breathing is constantly shallow and quick; you’re barely holding yourself together.

A few days ago, you had your meeting with Yaga, alone, which went just as horribly as you could have imagined, but you were thankfully spared contact with the higher-ups due to your condition.

But you’re almost all better now – at least physically. That’s why you’re back again, ready for another round of manipulation and abuse.

You’re out of it, so out of it. Your eyes are glazed over, and nothing they say registers in your mind. Even when you try to focus on the words leaving their mouths, your brain filters it all back into mindless noise.

There’s a sequence of very familiar syllables: ah, your name is being shouted. You look up with empty eyes, blinking slowly.

“Useless sorcerer, answer me, now!” Gakuganji roars. “You are testing our patience, and I’ve just about run out of it. Can you track him, or not?”

You breathe in shakily, and let out a weak, clueless, “What?”

“Track him, or they’re dead,” He spits. “Track Geto Suguru. Find him. We won’t wait long. If you haven’t reported back in a week, your parents won’t be able to enjoy their retirement any longer.”

Some of the other council members shift uncomfortably at his bluntness, but you barely even flinch.

You’re so tired of it all. You almost wish you had encouraged Gojo to just off them once and for all.

“Okay,” You mumble softly, lacking the energy to project your voice. “I can do it. I will track Geto Suguru.”

You drag yourself out without acknowledging them, without any show of respect, but the thought of caring is lost on you. Your apathy leaves a trail of displeased whispers, but you don’t even notice.

You speed-dial his number again and again and again, and are returned with nothing but the taunt of his cheerfully recorded memo.

When you finally look away from his contact info burning your retinas, your gaze is trained on the clear sky. It shouldn’t be so vivid, shouldn’t be so beautiful – today should be overcast and rainy. You can’t help but frown, but your eyes remain on the heavens.

Then you’re granted a sight that usually coaxes a smile out of you no matter how you feel: a particularly large gust of wind lays out a collection of reddening autumn leaves against the azure sky. They swirl and dance in the breeze, hovering in your field of vision for a few more moments before they are whipped away. 

It’s a sign of the changing of seasons – it has always been one of your favorite times of the year, especially during your years at Tokyo Jujutsu High. The rapid approach of the holidays and the time spent training with your classmates in the chilly air has always enlivened you.

Today, this sight drives fat tears to roll down your cheeks. It just serves to remind you of the juxtaposition between those blissful times and these turbulent times: the weight of Geto’s betrayal, his subsequent death, his impossible revival.

You turn your head to the side, eyes tracking the leaves as they dance into the distance. 

“So I’m really doing this then,” You whisper to yourself. “Yeah, guess I am. You’re not here to stop me…”

They’re far from Tokyo, much further than they were before. That much is obvious from the start, when you first scour for their residuals. After a disappointing first try by Jujutsu High - you shouldn’t expected much, anyway - you decide to return to their last known location: the forest you nearly were obliterated in. You dread returning there, but you have little choice unless you want to do a whole lot of guesswork.

You drive yourself there. Usually, you would be accompanied by your usual driver Ijichi, but the thought of asking him didn’t even cross your mind. In the eyes of the Jujutsu world, this is a suicide mission. You’re well aware of that: so why involve anyway else unnecessarily, risking innocent lives?

You’re grateful for the calming scenery that blurs by: miles and miles of inhabited land, solely occupied by woodland’s creatures. Hardly any curses are present in the countryside, as there are no humans to feed off of. Those special grades you faced were certainly the exception.

You pull over to the edge of the forest once you sense a steady stream of cursed energy. The residual energy is at least a week old - just around the time of your unfortunate encounter with them. You close your eyes and carefully sift through all of the cursed energy signatures left behind, immediately identifying Hanami’s and Jogo’s faint residuals. There’s one stronger energy, and very familiar: Satoru’s cursed energy.

His cursed energy is so easy to pick out, no matter where you are. It’s so bright and lively, practically humming under your fingers every time you sense it, almost as if it were your own.

But there’s a shadow – his energy shadows another. You concentrate, sensing an underlying current of a more recent energy. Your eyes fly open, startled by your discovery. It is much fresher than the others: the residuals are only a few days old.

Its signature is both unknown and yet alarmingly familiar. It’s dark, so dark. Its energy chokes you, holds you hostage with the way it starts to stick to you and steal your courage with its oppressiveness. You’ve never felt an energy quite like this, yet it feels all too familiar.

You begin to shake, the reality sinking in. “Geto…. Just what have you become?”

You shakily clamber back into the driver’s seat, firmly gripping the steering wheel with sweaty hands. Geto was here. Geto knows that you and Satoru were in the same vicinity as Jogo and Hanami. There’s absolutely no way he doesn’t know — you carelessly hadn’t wiped your residuals or even tried to cover your tracks.

You step on the gas. You keep your cursed energy flowing as you speed down the road, revealing a murky trail of residuals to follow. His cursed energy is so distinctly foul that you can pick it out from the rest with little effort. It’s overwhelming and makes you nauseous. Cursed with a twist of familiarity – a sickening combination.

Your mind begins to race. Is this how Gojo felt back then? No, it must have been so much worse, tracking one of your soulmates down with the intent to…to kill. And now you’re being forced to track him down again, just so the higher-ups can order Gojo to repeat history, just so your best friends will be forced to fight until one is–

You jerk the steering wheel over, making for a rough pull-over job. You throw yourself out of the car as quickly as possible before retching your stomach’s contents out onto the dark pavement.

The old wounds in your heart flare up; you clutch your chest desperately.

You are not strong enough to protect your parents - but are you strong enough to survive the alternative, the reality you and Gojo can’t help but deny?

“I have to,” You whisper to yourself. “I have to do this. I have no power in this world, I’m not the strongest…so this is all I can do.”

And so you are off again, this time unwavering from the course you’re set on.

By the time you reach Kyoto, an untimely five hours of panicked driving later, their residuals are so apparent that you hardly have to try. It’s almost as if they’re luring you in, the most sensitive tracker known in the Jujutsu world; why else would they leave behind such obvious traces of their cursed energy?

You ignore your instincts that scream for you to turn back, and instead continue into the outskirts of the most outer part of the residential areas – the residuals lead you far from the city itself.

As you venture further into the countryside, your stomach begins to clench. The residuals are much stronger now, but not alarmingly so. They should still be miles and miles out, perhaps 40 or 50 – there should be enough distance to not alert them of your presence. However, as a precaution, you stretch your hearing beyond the range of any normal human. You still feel unsettled, even with the extra layer of protection.

This is dumb. This is a terrible idea. Yet, you keep your foot firmly on the gas pedal.

You are suddenly flooded with an overwhelming wave of noise. Your brain barely has a second to process what your ears pick up: the roar of an object hurtling towards your car. You swerve to the roadside, and you’re barely fast enough: the driver’s side door is nearly scraped off, and it begins to smolder.

It shouldn’t be possible. They shouldn’t be here. Not again.

Running on pure adrenaline, you rip your seatbelt off and throw yourself to the passenger’s side door, seeking an escape from the next impending strike. Your hearing is more sensitive from your frenzied state, and you hear the next meteor much earlier this time. You rely on your hearing, on your hearing only: it will tell you where to dodge.

You climb out of the car, wheezing on smoke and fumes, and take off running. You gasp at the sound of the next meteor closing in on you and quickly dive away, throwing yourself to the ground and covering your head with your hands. The explosion is so intense that even after reducing your hearing, you feel the shock reverberate through your body and overpower any other sensation you feel.

After the ringing in your ears lets up for a moment, you finally feel the aftermath of the blast: shards of heated rock are embedded in your side, scorching your skin. There’s no time to even think about it: you’re up and running away from the voices that soon enter your hearing.

“You imbecile! Do you always have to do the opposite of what you’ve been ordered?” The grating tones of Hanami enter your ears as he hisses at Jogo. “He said captured alive! Or would you rather face his wrath?”

Captured? So they had been expecting your arrival; it was a trap all along.

“Relax, I haven’t even made a scratch yet!” Jogo shouts back.

“You’re embarrassing yourself in many ways,” Hanami scoffs. “If your intention was to kill, I will begin to further doubt your abilities. I already had to rescue you from that sorcerer, or has your pea-brain already forgotten that failure after it fell off of your body?”

“Shut up already,” Jogo growls. “I got it, okay?”

You truly don’t know what to do. Your last encounter made it very clear that you are solely a tracker with limited offensive ability. Hell, you didn’t even try last time because you knew it be to utterly pointless – the result would turn out no better if you tried now. Two special grades against a Grade 1 sorcerer with Grade 2 offensive abilities? You don’t stand a chance in that regard.

They’re in too close of proximity to disguise your presence – cutting off your cursed energy would be pointless. There’s only one other trick up your sleeve to increase your chances of surviving if they do decide to attack again.

You feel their cursed energies so much more clearly – when you steal a glance behind yourself, you can faintly see them in the distance. Not good.

Jogo suddenly barks out a laugh. “Boss never said we couldn’t rough anybody up though, did he? Got you there, dumbass! Don’t try to stop me!”

Really not good.

There’s a sudden spike in cursed energy – and that energy is heading straight for you. You try to dodge, but your reaction is too late. You feel the heat even before the impact, and you decide you definitely need to utilize your other ability. It’s not perfect, nor is it a full-fledged technique yet, but you have little choice but to use it now.

You concentrate all your energy into the side that will take the hit, and imagine an impenetrable wall. You think of Gojo’s Infinity: the space that can never crossed, no matter how much force is exerted. You don’t have the ability to manipulate space like Gojo, but your shield imitates his impenetrability.

Jogo’s fiery body slams into your side. Your breath is instantly knocked out of you, and the searing pain returns. Your shield absorbs the brunt of the strike, but you’re still knocked back at least thirty feet. You tumble into the undergrowth, your back squarely hitting a tree in your path.

You can’t stop the howl that escapes your lungs, and the ragged breathing that follows.

“They tried to stop it! It wasn’t even a fraction of my power and they couldn’t stop it! And you’re telling me that Gojo Satoru is interested in them?” Jogo howls in laughter. “How pathetic!”

At your next blink, Jogo has materialized in front of you. You weakly stagger to the side, wanting to get away but knowing you can’t deep down. They’re just toying with you – if they decided to get rid of you, they’d be able to almost instantly.

Jogo shouts loudly, “So weak it makes me sick! You can only run away, huh? Boss is right – creatures like you are disgusting.”

He rushes forward again, and you rush to encase yourself in your imperfect shield. To your surprise, you are not struck down: instead, you’re…in his arms??

“Hanami! Since you won’t let me have anymore fun, I guess we should go back,” Jogo yells across the clearing to the other Special Grade.

A burst of petals flies past your eyes; Hanami emerges from a newly-grown patch of flowers. They don’t say anything, but they approach Jogo and stand right over his shoulder. Jogo eyes Hanami suspiciously.

“Why are you hovering over me?” Jogo grumbles. “Stay away, tree hugger.”

“It’s almost as if he knew you were going to pull this,” Hanami huffs. “There’s a reason I’ve been keeping an eye on you.”

“They’re alive, that was the only request. Did Boss put you up to that ‘good guy’ act, huh? Agh, such arrogant scum! Thinks he can tell me what to do?”

Despite your shield, Jogo’s heat begins to affect you. You cough violently, and when you glance at your hands you see rivulets of red.

“Yes, I think that’s accurate, considering you call him ‘Boss’. Now, hand them over before they go up in flames.”

Jogo grunts unhappily, but complies. You’re transferred to the rough bark limbs of the tree cursed spirit. Hanami sighs at the sight of your angry red burns, eyeing Jogo, “Such a barbaric curse…destructive to all life and environment.”

“HAH! You-!�� Jogo guffaws. “I’ve see you uproot your own forests! Environmentally friendly my ass! Shut your trap.”

You wince from his loudness.

“So obnoxious, isn’t he? Well, you’re the lucky one here - you get to take a nap,” Hanami says. “Rest well before your…‘meeting’.”

Your pulse quickens at the expression on the curse’s face: a demented sort of excitement. There’s a sweet floral smell that falls over you, and then you begin to grow sleepy. Your eyelids start to flutter as you try to fight it – but you are eventually pulled deep into a dreamless sleep.

You are roused from your sleep by the touch of another. A hand on your forehead – a comforting presence. It’s warm, and familiar. You’re about to smile widely and look deep into his crystal eyes, but when your bleary eyes begin to focus, your heart stops.

There’s an easy, gentle smile on his face. His dark eyes shine brightly, but your own can’t help but drift to the obvious surgical scar running across his entire forehead.

Your reflexes kick in: you smack his hand away, rejecting the unwanted touch, and fall into a defensive stance. He lets out a hum of amusement, but otherwise does not react.

“My old friend,” Geto Suguru coos. “How wonderful it is to see you again. Never thought I’d be able to – what a gift your presence is, my dear.”

It’s then that you realize that you’re shaking; your chattering teeth render you unable to let any words out.

“Did Jogo and Hanami rough you up again? How rude of them,” He sighs. “But don’t be scared, it’s just your old friend Suguru.”

He stops to let his eyes roam over your hunched form. A sickening smirk spreads across his face – sickening because it’s just like the sweet smiles he used to give you.

“You know, you really are the best tracker around. I have to say, I’m quite impressed. Too bad I know all your little tricks, though. Did you like the surprise I set up especially for you?” He smirks. “It’s hard to catch such a talented tracker as you off guard, but I think I managed quite well. You didn’t detect a thing, did you? They were supposed to be much further away, I know…it’s fascinating, isn’t it, the feats you can achieve through sorcery?”

You only stare at him in horror.

“No? Well, I know at least Jogo enjoyed it,” He says with a soft laugh, but his next words cause icy chills to run down your spine. “But I think I enjoyed it the most. The look on your face…was perfect.”

Your stomach turns at his words. His gaze is even worse: there’s a hungry, disturbing glint to them. Your eyes flit from his sharp onyx eyes to his traditional wear: his inky yukata and gilded kasaya are elegant and beautiful, but emanate darkness.

“Forgot what I looked like? It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Geto smiles. His smile is soft and almost sweet, but out of place; its familiarity makes your stomach churn.

“You shouldn’t be here,” You finally speak, voice quiet and cracking. “You shouldn’t exist.”

“That’s a bit harsh, doll. I’m not the only one who doesn’t belong in this world,” He says, lip curled in disgust. “Monkeys roam the earth. That’s more of a disgrace than my existence…I hope you’d agree.”

You only manage to gasp out, “How are you even here?”

His eyes meet yours, crinkling in a dark sort of amusement. “You’d love to know, wouldn’t you? There’s a price to pay for that knowledge, doll.”

“You’d…Geto would never hurt me,” You whimper. “Never.”

Geto just smiles. “I wouldn’t? Maybe not.”

His piercing eyes seem to see stare right through you. “But what about my best friend?”

You freeze.

“Is that such an uncomfortable thought?” He chuckles a little too lightly. “Never thought about it even once? Not even after he killed me?”

He tuts at you, clicking his tongue. “Sweetheart, I knew you were blinded by him, but never to this degree. How low you have fallen…”

He moves closer. Your breath is trapped in your lungs and you can’t move.

“One toe out of line and you might end up like me. Don’t you see?” He shakes his head.

Hot anger flashes through you, and your tongue lashes out before you can think. “One toe out of line? No. No. You committed genocide. You murdered your entire family in the name of it. For what? A delusional dream?”

He sighs. “Of course. So brainwashed…you’re practically a monkey. How disappointing. You don’t get it, do you? I was apparently his everything, and look how I ended up.”

“You’re not Geto!” You cry out. “You can’t be.”

He laughs softly, but his gaze is razor-sharp. “Are you sure these aren’t Geto’s thoughts?”

You bite your lip in nervous thought. “Ge- you…why am I here?”

He ignores your question as he begins to circle you like a hawk, eyes sharp and hungry. “You know, you’re not quite what I imagined you to be.”

You take a few tentative steps back, trying to subtly increase the distance between you and the living corpse in front of you, but he strides over to your side when he notices.

“I’m just so curious,” He says, eyes raking over your figure. “You really are (Y/N), aren’t you? Fits the descriptions…”

The blood drains from your face. You back away from his seeking hands that threaten to touch you, to investigate you.

“There’s a disgusting amount of papers with your name written all over them – I don’t think Hanami would have liked me much before. Such a waste of stationery,” He says, his twisted smirk pulling shivers down your spine. “Why was I so fixated on you? You don’t look like anything special. Don’t tell me…I actually fell for someone as plain as you?”

“What?” You breathe out, eyes wide, mouth parted in surprise. “Geto, you…he…it wasn’t like that.”

“And you didn’t even know,” He coos in faux pity. “How cruel to find out in this way. Seems like you have only ever focused on my former equal. You only pay attention to the strongest – how shallow. What did I ever see in you?”

“I- that’s not-“ You try to form a sentence, deny it, say it’s not true because it truly isn’t, but your tongue and vocal chords won’t cooperate with you.

“When confronted with the truth, humans get tongue tied,” He smiles, voice dripping with mockery. “How precious. What a good little monkey you are – so unbearably typical, so exemplary of your species.”

“Stop,” You gasp out.

“What, sweets? Can’t handle the truth?”

“Don’t call me that,” You try to say with conviction, but it leaves you weakly and softly, almost a plea.

“What, you only like it when he calls you that?” He says with a dark chuckle. “How pathetic. How much has you brainwashed you into thinking he acutally wants anything to do with you? Gojo doesn’t like to get attached. And even when he does–”

He leans forward, invading your space, pressing up too closely to your body. “–sometimes you still end up dead.”

“Stop,” You beg. “Get away from me. You’re-you’re scaring me, Suguru.”

“Am I?” He smirks. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know what to do to make you forgive me, though. Used to work on Shoko, too.”

“No, stop!” You cry, ragged breaths leaving you. “This isn’t you, stop, please, stop!”

“You’re right,” He smiles wickedly, eyes dark. “It’s not.”

His lips meet yours. It burns your skin, but not pleasantly – it’s all wrong, and it hurts. You shove him away with as much force as you can, leaving him stumbling back a few paces. He laughs. He laughs.

“Wow, I’m impressed,” He chuckles, amused. “You’re stronger than you used to be. Maybe you actually live up to being Grade 1 now, huh?”

“Who are you?!” You cry out. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I’m Geto Suguru,” He says with a crazed smile. “Is it that hard to believe when my body was never retrieved?”

“What do you want from me?” You snarl, growing angry. “You’ve just been toying with me, you bastard. Trying to play all these mind games on me, leaving your dirty work to your underlings. None of it feels substantial enough to kidnap me.”

A cackle escapes Geto, “You’re right, it isn’t. By yourself, you aren’t of any interest to me. Just a memento of the past – I don’t have any use for you.”

He continues with a smirk, “I have to say though, your reactions have piqued my interest slightly. Jogo seems to feel the same way. Perhaps if you could be our little monkey for entertainment - it might keep Jogo out of trouble elsewhere.”

Reduced to entertainment.

“You’re sick,” You say, shaking your head.

“Hardly. It’s only natural treatment for someone so unimportant. Should I be frank?” He asks, touching his chin to mock contemplation. “You are here solely as means of luring him out.”

You break out in a cold sweat. It was as you suspected and feared: you are only bait. Bait for the strongest.

“He won’t come,” You declare. “This is pointless.”

“Do you take me as an idiot monkey?” Geto frowns. “You’re not the only one who can read residuals. He came last time, and he will come this time.”

“He doesn’t know,” You hiss. “He won’t come. He doesn’t want to see me right now.”

Geto only smiles. “He’ll come.”

His confidence scares you. Even though it would be very unlikely Gojo is even aware that you’re away on a mission, doubt still swirls in your gut. You don’t want him to walk into this trap – who knows what Geto has planned?

While you mull over your thoughts, Geto grows impatient.

“This is quite dull. Let’s test your strength, First Grader,” He smirks. “Maybe they’ll pass you to Special Grade if you can land a single hit.”

Suddenly, your breath is stolen from you. You double over in pain, caught off guard by the assault to your stomach. It was only a kick, but it was the hardest you’ve been hit in your entire life by another sorcerer.

“Silly me, I’ve forgotten my manners,” Geto says drily. “When harkening back to our school days, I must ask if you’re ready before we spar.

But don’t forget, the enemy won’t wait for you. Didn’t we learn that?”

Satoru’s words. He would often preemptively attack before the sparring session officially began, and he would always recite those exact words. You feel sick.

You don’t respond, knowing it would take away from your focus. Instead, you concentrate on pouring your cursed energy into your hearing technique.

He begins his initial assault: he’s extremely agile, and his punches and kicks seem to come out of thin air. You anticipate his attacks with your highly developed sense of hearing, listening for each twitch of his muscles and the roar of his appendages slashing through the air. Essentially, you read his moves before he has finished them. Your body can’t always keep up with your hearing enough to avoid him, though, but the blows are lessened by your half-developed shielding.

You haven’t attempted a single hit of your own – all your energy has gone into avoiding each of his potent attacks. Every time you see an opening, your chance is ruined by another attack of his.

After a few minutes of religiously defending, your senses slow. You can hear everything, but you can’t physically keep up with him. You begin to take hit after hit after hit – until you’re forced to retreat several paces back. Blood drips from your nose, spilling into your mouth and filling your mouth with the metallic tang of iron. It tastes of defeat and cowardice.

“Are you sure you’re not a monkey?” Geto roars in laughter. “To call you a sorcerer is sacrilegious at best. How disappointing you are. Haven’t improved an ounce since our days together, have you? Other than that half-baked excuse of a technique - trying to imitate the strongest, perhaps?”

You ignore his taunts, using the time to draw out two small daggers from your sleeves. You fare better with bows, but the twin blades are better than nothing.

“What cute little pocket knives,” Geto jeers. “They look sharp.”

“Want to find out?” You growl.

He scoffs. “I’d like to see you try.”

It is a dance that never ends – you are held captive by the need to defend yourself, not able to stop without the fear of further injury. You are slowly giving up hope when time seems to slow down. Your breath hitches as you spot what you need desperately: an opening. You zero in on the opening, thrusting your right hand into the open space. A spurt of red splashes your hand – your aim was true.

You step back immediately, parrying his retaliating blow with your other blade. More droplets spill over you, a shower of red that makes you nauseous.

You’re breathing hard. You haven’t fought with a sorcerer – or even a curse – for a long time, and it’s taking more of your strength than you anticipated.

Geto doubles over, which fills you with confusion. There’s no way those two nicks did any substantial damage, so why is he hunched over in pain?

And then you hear it. Laughter. Crazed laughter erupts from him in waves. When he looks up at you, the fear in the pit of your stomach intensifies. He’s not hurt – he’s pissed off. Very.

“I have to admit, you exceeded my expectations. But that’s not saying much when I expected nothing from a dirty monkey like you,” He spits. “What a brat.”

“If I recall correctly, you were the one who wanted to spar like old times,” You glare, grip tightening on your daggers. “It was only per your suggestion.”

“Your insolence boils my blood…how does he care for someone like you?! How did I?!” He roars. “You are nothing!”

He rushes forward faster than you can register and knocks you to the ground. You instinctively roll out of the way and are still nearly stomped on. You try to stand up, or even just sit up, but can’t. You begin to panic – you feel frozen in place, unable to even turn your head.

“Now you can’t run away,” He growls. “Should I make it a little unbearable? You deserve it.”

You feel a great pressure forcing your body into the ground. It’s excruciating; you feel as if your bones are grinding together and all your muscles are compressed. You can’t bite back the cry that erupts from your throat.

“Now you really feel the gravity of the situation,” He says with a demented smile. “You know, maybe I don’t need you anyway. He can just come to retrieve your body. Can’t make the same mistake twice, after all. Leaving a body to rot is a vulnerability. I could fix that for him, too…leave a puddle where you used to stand? If I crush you long enough, perhaps…”

“Fuck you,” You manage to get out. “You’ll never win. You’ll never beat Satoru.”

You fall flat on your face, coughing, as you are released from his technique. You try to push yourself up, but you only manage to a kneeling position. Not that it matters anyway, not when you are grabbed by your throat and hoisted in the air.

“Do you always make so many mistakes?” He hisses. “It’s like you want me to kill you.”

You couldn’t respond even if you wanted to with how hard he’s clutching your trachea. You have no idea when you dropped your blades, but they’re not in your hands now, so you have to resort to pitifully clawing at his grip with your bare hands.

Your vision begins to blur and darken as you asphyxiate. Howls of laughter ring in your ears, getting quieter and then louder as your hearing fades in and out.

Is this how it will end? No, it can’t, you can’t let it. You can’t leave yourself to die at the hands of Geto Suguru. You can’t die at the hands of your former friend, and be found by your other best friend. You can’t do that to him.

You claw harder, more desperately, even though you feel yourself weakening. It’s futile – his grip won’t even loosen at your efforts.

You have to use your weaker technique. If you do it perfectly, it might propel him from your body, giving you a chance to escape. Escape to where, you don’t know, but you need to try. You don’t have any chance otherwise.

With a burst of strength you didn’t know you had, you focus all of your cursed energy into the skin that is touching Geto. Your close your eyes, visualizing the perfect invisible wall that encases Gojo – no flaws, no gaps, no way to get past – and then you release your energy.

There’s a loud smack that resonates through the air, and then you crumple to the ground. When you look up, you can see a hard shell jutting between you and Geto, effectively shielding you. Geto is clutching his arm, which is now red and swollen.

You actually did it. It was a perfect use of your technique.

“You are frustrating, but no matter. I have other methods at my disposal. Didn’t think I’d have to pull this on you, but you seem to be begging for your demise, so I might as well use it,” He grits his teeth, and holds one arm out, his forearm curling up.

A ball of black energy appears at his fist. It is nebulous and shifts as it grows bigger. It begins to glow as time passes, as it amasses more energy. You have no idea what that is, but you highly doubt your shield will be able to block it. As you think about your options, your shield begins to fade away – you are nearly out of cursed energy. You are wide-eyed as you watch the last sections of your shield dissipate to nothing.

Entirely defenseless, you heave yourself to a standing position and try to stumble away. You fall to one knee in agony – Jogo and Geto have taken a toll on you.

You look over to see the ball of darkness leave Geto’s fingers. You are frozen, knowing you can do nothing, but also knowing you will die if you do nothing.

It approaches, and you close your eyes. Hopefully it will completely destroy you in a single instant, so it won’t be torturous. At least you won’t be in pain for long.

It’s going to hit you. And then you suppose it does. You feel weightless, like you weigh nothing. Perhaps your body has been destroyed, and this is how your brain is processing the absence of your nerve endings.

But if you are not here anymore, why does the wind whip through your ears?

You were mistaken. You don’t just feel weightless, you are weightless.

When you open your eyes, tears spill out at the sight in front of you. Tousled white hair, a blindfold tucked over his eyes, rigid determination showing through his features.

“I didn’t know this is where we were holding the school reunion. Class of ‘007, except Geto went all rogue and didn’t end up graduating. What a failure!”

His words are playful, and he’s smiling, but somehow his tone doesn’t match. It’s serious and dark, not at all jocular. He seems to be making an effort to keep up his lighthearted persona, but his true feelings can’t help but bleed out.

“Ah, you finally showed up,” Geto cackles. “It’s not good to have a weakness. I was about to do you a favor.”

Gojo laughs bitterly, “Don’t you know? Strength comes from weaknesses. Not that you would understand.”

“In any case…” He looks down at you. “I won’t let you take away my strongest weakness.”

next part

a/n 2.0: Okay so, idk how it 100% is in the manga bc I haven’t read it, but basically this ‘Geto’ (*cough* Kenjaku) has thoughts that are Kenjaku but with some of Geto’s memories ?? .. sorry if that’s non canon heehee

Bonus!!: Also I’ve been learning some Japanese so here is Gojo’ name spelled out: ごじょさとる。This is more for my own enjoyment 🫣 but here you go lol

tag list: @thenyxsky, @whitehairedtwink, @screwyou3

also thank you @zoyatoshi for your such sweet reblogs 🥹🥹 literally inspired me to finish this chapter up after 6+ months !!

#gojo satoru x reader #reader needs a hug #gojo satoru needs a hug #geto suguru #Jujutsu Kaisen #jjk angst #angst/comfort #hurt/comfort #geto suguru needs a hug but he’s not getting one

[petricocked]

winter king x softdom!reader

u made me do this... anyways ive never posted on tumblr before so i dont really know how this works

cw: smut, pwp, soft dom reader, reader is called "princess", bitchboy winter king, also probably ooc wk, not proofread

wc: 987

You had him slotted between your legs, arms wrapping around his front to let your hands glide across his chest. You could feel his heart beating through his half-buttoned dress shirt. His breaths came out in short gasps in spite of the fact that you had barely started touching him.

He whined when your hand inched down to ghost over the crotch of his pants, instinctively bucking up into you. 

He was, Golb bless him, trying his damndest to keep his regal composure, but you could tell he was growing impatient. Sucks for him. Not you, though. It was fun for you.

"Princess, please," he pleaded with you.

You thought you'd take pity on him this time.

You took your time undoing his fly, making it a point to run your fingers painstakingly slow up against him.

He let out another one of his pretty whines, wordlessly begging you to fist his cock until he squirted against his chest. But you wouldn't do that. Not yet, at least.

Pretty tears welled up in his eyes, and you think they'd crystalize if they fell out. You wanted him in you in a way that surpassed sex and was far beyond morally correct. You thought about eating him, but that made it weird.

He was fucking hard. His poor cock strained against those fancy boxers he wore and literally sprung up when you freed him. 

He was gorgeous. Had the prettiest little dick-- blue at the base and flushed a cotton candy pink at the tip.

Your hands danced around the extremely pressing matter. Of course, you weren't just gonna give him what he wanted-- he had to work for it!

"Tell me what you want,"

Golb, that got him. He hated being out of control like this. Poor thing.

"Want you," he breathed out.

"Already got me, what now?"

That irritated him.

"Want you to touch me,"

"'M already touching you,"

Poor thing couldn't catch a break, and to frost the metaphorical cake: after his slip-up, you let your fingers rest against his thighs. Completely opposite of where he wanted them.

He genuinely cried at this, gripping his own hands atop yours.

"My cock! Please, want you to help me get off!" he affirmed the earnestness of his confession with a sharp and almost involuntary upward thrust of his hips.

Much better! You'd accept that.

"What a good boy, baby! See, was that so hard?"

He was. Indefinitely.

You felt equal parts bad for him and fucking turned on at how hot he was letting himself go like this.

Your hands found their way back to his cock, finally giving him what he wanted.

You worked the tip of his cock with your index and middle finger, not yet giving him the exact amount of pressure he wanted.

Your fingers slinked down to wrap around his cock. Did I mention it was pretty?

Golb, was he a sight. Splayed out for you, open and completely vulnerable. Head tilted back against you, eyes lidded, and glasses slipping down his nose. His glittery hair was mussed, and his chest was rising and falling at a rate you think would kill him. You think you want him in your chest.

You wanted to see him ruined and cumming all over himself. But you'd draw it out a little longer.

He'd never say it outright, but he wanted that too. There was something so, for a lack of better words, hot, about letting you humiliate him like this. Being reduced to nothing more than a crying mess in your lap.

Literally crying.

Pretty tears had started to run down his cheeks as you pumped his cock, and you reveled in them.

He couldn't take much more of this. You knew he was going to cum if you kept it up. 

So you didn't.

And, Golb, did that almost kill him.

He jerked up, whining and humping aimlessly at the air, hands frantically reaching back to grab at you for leaving him, (your king!!!!) like this. He would definitely mention his title if he could think about anything else besides your hands on his cock.

"Please, please, please, please, please, please, holy fucking shit,"

The mouth on this so-called "king"!

"Princess, can't, I,"

"You can,"

"Can't, need to cum," he knew better than to get himself off, so his hands gripped desperately at yours on his taut thighs.

"Mm," you anything but half-heartedly retorted.

You lifted your left hand up to stretch out his mouth, your warm fingers perfectly contrasting his cold tongue, which left your right hand to make its way back to jackhammering away at his poor swollen cock.

He was fucking gone. His spit dripped down and coated your fingers, and his little hips were moving as fast as he could will them to.

Golb bless him, he was really trying his hardest to talk to you with your fingers jammed down his throat and rubbing against his teeth, but all he could get out were garbled moans and pleas.

You thought you might be nice this go around.

He looked so pretty like this, you wanted to give him the world. 

So you didn't stop this time, you kept your fist working diligently around his cock until his thrusts devolved into erratic jerky spasms, and his pretty mouth went limp, no longer able to service your fingers. His entire face contorted, partly in sheer shock that you were actually letting him cum this time. He came in thin milky ropes, shooting up against his fancy blazer and dribbling out onto your hand.

You jerked him off through his high and sincerely thought about not stopping until he was crying for a different reason, but that was for a different day.

"Thank you," he mumbled against your fingers, shifting his hips to get comfortable in your lap.

Wow! What a gracious and unexpected show of gratitude!

"But my BLAZER," :((((((

-----------

ok um.. idrk how to use tumblr but anyways i wrote this because i had evil awful winter king thoughts in my head and had to get them out.. if anyone reads this its not my fault.. if u liked it ummm u can request anything go nuts idrc just be rlly specific but i cant guarantee u ill write it im a busy girl!!!!!

#winter king x reader smut #the winter king x reader smut #fionna and cake fic #winter king x reader #the winter king x reader

[5-pp-man]

another tierlist because ppl actually liked that first one;

the crème de la crop;

the first 2 eps i thought it was fine, but it didnt really captivate me as much as id hoped. but then ep 3 changed everything for me. i started to think "how could living armour work logically? everything so far has been edible, so this must be too, right?" i actually managed to think of the exact thing that this series did. that really made me realise the worldbuilding in this was something unique, and it only got better and better with each episode. its really managed to captivate me and i look forward to "delicious donderdag" every week :)

ANIME ORIGINAL LETS GOOOO absolutely bonkers show that almost slipped by me because it initially tried to fool its audience into thinking it was a regular dramatic military show. it still is but theres also a giant robot who plays by saturday morning cartoon giant robot rules. if that sounds like tonal whiplash to you, trust me, it is. and its amazing. have i mentioned how homoerotic this one is as well? yeah. originally a tier below this one, but immediately after finishing this post i watched the newest ep. i had to make an exception and edit the list because ep 9 changes everything. i havent been gobsmacked by a show this hard in a while.

(return of the) show(s) that execute their own premise very well;

i havent read the manga for yubisaki to renren so i cant compare, but the quality of this adaptation has been very consistent. you need a little sweet romance every once in a while :) this is one of those series where the characters really grew on me the longer it went on. im always a fan of mixing realistic struggles with romance and this one has been doing it well so far

adaptations that are ok (i read the manga for both of these);

i've been a mashle fan since before s1 aired. and the anime has some good changes and additions here and there! but its not very consistent in terms of quality, it does that shonen thing where the animation quality suddenly spikes for certain action sequences, but it also frequently had a lot of scenes where they recycle shots a lot and nothing interesting happens on the screen for a considerable amount of time. still! its a fine adaptation. and yeah the op for this. blew tf up lmao? very strange to see happen in real time

i actually rlly like the manga for this one. i read the whole thing up until vol.6 before the season started (all that was available back then) and it made me cry multiple times throughout. i was sort of missing that connection with the show, though some of the later episodes still hit. its mostly to do with the animation quality, which isnt that great unfortunately. the voice actors are knocking it out of the park though

wghere am i;

is this show good? i. uh. will you hate me if i say yes...? objectively, i know its not that good. especially in the animation department. but if you like other Umatani shows, you'll like this one. it's got the same brand of goofy reactionary humour mixed with gimmicky tacky characters and crazy stupid plot twists. ive been faithfully watching this one each week and I'm afraid i've become very invested. overscientific indeed

bro you fell off...;

i was so beyond excited for this one. i replayed the op a million times, watched each preview, rewatched multiple episodes. and then. ep 5 happened. and i started to realise. oh this show kind of sucks doesnt it? the pacing of the first ep was great, but the rest? way too fast. it became clear with ep 6 that theyre trying to do a double cour show with half the length, which is why they started hauling ass plot-wise. now. i was an arajin apologist for the longest time. but at that point i honestly started to loathe him. even when he stepped up, his praise still felt sort of unearned. and to top it all off, shindou's motivation sucked so he felt like a lousy antagonist. ep6 was better than 5, but it really made me lose my enthusiasm and hope for the series. and right as we were talking about them probably not having time for a filler ep, ep7 happened. feels like a waste of time to do an ep like that when you've still got a whole 2nd arc to go through. but who am i

it started off pretty good honestly. but then chris went to the hospital and it kind of just dwindled from there. this season does so much with characters that have not even been properly introduced like how am i supposed to care about these people if i barely know who they are. the stuff with finn and leo respectively was good though. but the lore dump? lord help me. also vijay just kind of. exists to be there in the background huh? i would not call him a main character they never give him any attention. wendy had another ep again and he didnt get shit. again. also i think finn was stupid as fuck for not listening to lala but again. who am i. i know we cant destroy high card because we need a show but. cmon man.

i am severely behind on these;

reason why im behind is because most of the eps are a bit heavy so i kept. not watching them. its starting to get rlly interesting though so i'm def gonna catch up this is one of those robo-racism shows so i have to really watch out to see where its going. dont want another marginal service situation...

sorry this is just. a little too boring for me. its charming, sure. but i think this wouldve worked better as something with an 11 min timeslot instead of 23 min. theres just a bit too mu- or well, too little for me to rlly get into this. i think reading it would be more fun for me personally

#dungeon meshi #yubisaki to renren #yuuki bakuhatsu bang bravern #30 sai made doutei dato mahoutsukai ni nareru rashii #gekkan mousou kagaku #bucchigiri?! #high card #metallic rouge #kyuujitsu no warumono san #delicious in dungeon #a sign of affection #brave bang bravern! #bang brave bang bravern #cherry magic! #delusional monthly magazine #bucchigiri #mr villain's day off #i did the review a bit later into the season this time around. so my thoughts are more in order and ive already dropped a few things #theres also 1 more category this time #also if youre curious; i ended up finishing everything from last season except for the 2 series in the couldve been better category #i finished a bunch of them way later though but shhh. im also planning on finishing the last 2 at some point. esp since ke is getting a s2 #like wtf. who couldve seen that coming. #tedpost #tedtalks #tedlists

[eriexplosion]

MOVING FROM SOME EASY EPISODES TO THE HARDEST. OUTPOST.

Do y'all remember the hype for this episode like we knew it was THE Crosshair episode and everyone was absolutely thirsting for it.

"A new friend is made on a harsh and unforgiving outpost planet" WHO WROTE THIS SUMMARY?

Like yes technically accurate as it doesn't specify that the new friend survives the friendship.

Crosshair clearly paying much more attention to the regs these days, at this point I do think he's pretty much had all his bullshit beaten out of him when it comes to thinking he's better than anyone else. Just in time for Crosshair's Worse Time Parade to start.

Much like Hemlock, Lieutenant Nolan is established as absolute garbage the instant he sees Crosshair taking like two seconds to breathe out of his helmet and tells him he's out of uniform. If The Bad Batch can do one thing it's write a man that sucks.

AND THEN HE MAKES IT WORSE WITH "I DON'T LIKE USED EQUIPMENT"

Literally would kill this man myself and he's been on screen for 30 seconds

THE ICE VULTURE <3 OUR BOY'S NEW MOTIF <3

MAYDAY. MAYYYYYDAYYYYYY.

HE IS HERE!

God Mayday was complicated because like I loved him from the moment I saw him but also like, coming into this episode just logistically we knew anyone that showed Crosshair a hint of kindness was almost certainly going to get killed, so Mayday is loved for the exact thing that put him on the path to narrative doom. Reinforcements or no reinforcements, it doesn't matter, Mayday was never leaving Barton IV alive.

They waited 36 rotations. 4 days longer than Crosshair was left to nearly starve on a platform. If I remember correctly (I'm not there yet) Crosshair says the trip took 2 hours. None of their lives were worth two hours.

THE WAY MAYDAY HAS TWO, TWO MEN LEFT UNDER HIS COMMAND. ONLY TWO. HE HAD TO WATCH THE REST ALL DIE UNDER HIS WATCH. I AM SO FUCKING UNWELL ABOUT HIM.

I really love the name Hexx btw

"Respect is something to be earned." And immediately Nolan goes nuclear to insult him because he wasn't instantly given unconditional deference.

YEP IT WAS TWO HOURS. TWO HOURS OUT OF THE WAY.

I am going to scream from the layers of unfair this is.

The way Mayday's voice softens a touch when left alone with Crosshair though, always gentler with another clone.

I'm still not over the LONG pause after Mayday introduces himself, like Crosshair is trying to dig past the shields he put up between himself and his situation to remember his own name. He probably hasn't heard it at all since Cody.

Mayday looked at Crosshair and apparently felt the desperation for company rolling off him in smothering waves because he instantly is just like 'you're under my wing now'

That he's been out here over a year meaning that the Empire has been established for over a year is a lot to take in like god Crosshair has been away from home for so long.

"You'll freeze to death in that armor" He is like 10 seconds from wrapping Crosshair in a blanket I swear to god I'm only slightly projecting.

"Vicious creatures, but you have to admire 'em. They find a way to survive." GOD I LOVE THAT LINE. ABSOLUTELY FANTASTIC.

Using the explosion through heat vision to completely screw Crosshair's up for the shot was such a good excuse to have him just wound the guy instead of kill him, lol.

Still was surprised to see a blood trail in this cartoon, but sure they can't show us any sign of Tech's body right (YES I AM STILL ON THIS AND WILL BE UNTIL THEY SHOW US THE BOY)

Goddddd him putting Hexx and Veetch's helmets next to all of the others. His very last brothers, the men he was responsible for, god I am in tatters about it. Every second of this episode is just. Grief and Pain.

"Remind me not to die on your watch" Don't worry you're the only person that's been nice to him in months he will literally drag you through hell to save your life. Crosshair just has what we call "Something is wrong with him" disease and all of his words pass through the cortex that makes him rude before getting to you.

My thoughts on this mine disarming scene are Many but let it just be said that I still cannot believe they put this on my screen, it was made explicitly for me to be feral to.

Mayday has learned fast how to talk to Crosshair though, gotta give him some snark back.

"They're... gone." "And here we are. The survivors."

GOD I AM UNHINGED ABOUT THIS.

"If I don't hear a boom then I'll know it worked." "Glad you're confident in your work." "Oh I'm confident, I'm just not stupid."

I just love this back and forth dynamic that they hit perfectly and immediately.

Hey Crosshair actually wins a hand to hand fight all he has to do is sneak up on them and not give them the opportunity to actually hit him back.

Shout out to the guy whose first instinct was to try and RUN MAYDAY OVER WITH A CAR like it didn't work but impressive ingenuity.

Clones dying to guard the gear intended for their replacements god it makes me ILL.

"We're good soldiers. We followed orders. And for what?"

The entire thing is designed to drive a wedge into Crosshair's brain and break through the thick shield he's built around himself where he is so sure if he just follows orders Well Enough maybe he can make everything he's done and lost worth it in the end but he can't because he never had a future in the Empire and no amount of sunk cost fallacy will change that.

AND JUST IN TIME FOR HIS EPIPHANY WE GET THE AVALANCHE.

Literally would be so fascinating to see exactly what was running through Mayday's head when he chose to push Crosshair out of the way of the rock instead of jumping to safety himself. He just met this guy, he's not technically responsible for him, but Mayday has lost every single soldier he was in command of, sole survivor of his unit, and he finally, finally had the opportunity to save someone. If he only saves one person, maybe he's done something worthwhile.

And honestly, Crosshair is trying to do the same back to him. Just Mayday dies knowing he succeeded and Crosshair lives knowing he failed.

I am fucking destroyed by this episode by the way like it is so unbearably good and also tragic as hell.

Mayday trying to get Crosshair to leave him behind and the music when Crosshair decides absolutely the fuck not. That they have one helmet between them and Crosshair put it on Mayday's head and not his own.

THE MUSIC AS CROSSHAIR IS SO DETERMINED TO DRAG HIM BACK AND THE ICE VULTURE OVERHEAD MY GOD.

The moment of them huddling together in a tiny little hideaway in the rock ends me too, like, images that stick in my head forever.

And despite everything Crosshair made it he got Mayday back to the outpost alive, he did everything to accomplish the impossible and it should have been enough, but it wasn't all because Nolan doesn't value either of their lives enough to even lift a single finger for Mayday.

Like Crosshair accomplishing the impossible through sheer stubbornness only to have it pulled away at the last second I am in AGONY.

HE GAVE MAYDAY HIS SNIPER RIFLE TO USE AS A CRUTCH FOR GODS SAKE

Crosshair taking Mayday's helmet off and at least giving him one last moment of human connection before it's over

The voice acting in this moment is absolutely unbelievable but especially on 'Help him' like give DBB all the money in the world because I was shattered.

THE FACT THAT THEY MADE US LISTEN TO MAYDAY GURGLE COUGH OUT HIS LAST BREATH AND SEE THE INSTANT HIS EYES ROLL BACK AND CLOSE

"He served his purpose as a soldier of the Empire" OWN WORDS THROWN BACK INTO HIS FACE LIKE A FUCKING PUNCH

The way Crosshair's words drop back down into a growl as he says "You could have saved him." is so good too.

The music as it all reaches its boiling point, as he sees the vulture's shadow, then Mayday's body, then the vulture itself just. Oh god. This episode is a masterpiece and I'm still not over it. I don't think I'll ever be over it.

Like I still cannot BELIEVE we got this shot? The rock wings? I'm? Inconsolable?

Crosshair really probably thought he was going to die right there next to Mayday and honestly I think he was okay with it, in the worst way possible. Also him unconscious here is literally THE most relaxed I think we've ever seen his face.

But because this is only the start of Crosshair's Life Getting Much Much Worse he gets to live and wake up in a horrible science lab!

The sedative injection is much worse given the way that they torture him later.

"Cooperate and you might survive."

Literally one of the best episodes of anything I've ever seen I still cannot believe that we got it, truly. This episode is like 95% of the reason I have faith in the writers pulling through on the Tech Issue because I don't think anyone that gave Crosshair this episode arc would actually kill Tech off in such a stupid way on a completely pointless side quest.

I'm still on the rock wings and will be until further notice.

#the bad batch rewatch

[cupoftaae]

Forever and a day (KTH x READER) series♡

Summary: Your lifelong friend is forced to face his true feelings for you once he breaks the number one rule of becoming friends with benefits: dont fall in love. He knows he loves you, but you on the other hand need more convincing of the most important thing: the right decision.

Genre: fwb, roommates, friends to idiots to lovers. Fluff, smut, angst. The whole 9 yards tbh.

Pairing: taehyung x female!reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: around 2k

Warnings: swears, mentions to sex, allusions to sex, some angst?

A/N

Hi guys! This is my first chapter to my story “Forever And A Day”, Ive never written anything for tumblr before so this is exciting! I will figure out a schedule for posting, but this will have several parts! I will make them longer along the way as well. Please note that English is not my first language so please excuse any spelling errors <3 feedback is always appreciated too :) happy reading !

————————-

“Are you ok?”

Taehyung breathed heavily and moved off of you to lay against your side, noticing your vacant expression as your eyes traced the ceiling.

You turned to look at the boy, tracing a finger over his face as you slowly nodded and closed your eyes.

Taehyung and you have been roommates for almost 3 years, but you’ve been friends since middle school. Which kinda makes it weird to think the same kid you would run home to play video games with is now your current friends with benefits situation.

You can’t recall exactly when it started, but you knew it was probably around the time he began to work from home. He would sit in the living room from the morning till late at night, and of course you would accompany him, keeping him fed over dinner and a glass of wine. One drink would become Two, then three, and before you know it, your clothes were scattered across the floor.

“Taehyung”

Your eyes opened up to look back at him in his post sex state. He was always gorgeous, taehyung didn’t have to try to be handsome. He just had this charm to him, and perhaps that’s why it was so easy to fall into this entanglement in the first place.

You both made an agreement that this was strictly just sex, nothing more, and nothing less. It was an outlet to relieve each others stress, it was for fun.

Would you be lying if you never thought of taehyung as more than just someone you occasionally fuck? Yes. But you knew you couldn’t do that. He is a busy man, and works almost full time, he has no room in his life for a relationship and frankly, neither do you.

Taehyung on the other hand, coincidently, thinks the exact same for yourself. He’s been a bit more open about the fact he liked you in the past, but high school relationships never worked, so you both dropped it.

He’s always kept a special place in his heart for you, he’s always been willing to drop everything the minute you wish to be more than this.

He knows he would love you better than anyone has, but he can’t help but wonder what it is that exactly goes through your mind when you look at him, piercing dark brown eyes that say so much but yet, at the same time, are secretive and reveal nothing.

“I’ve met someone”

Oh.

Taehyung immediately withdrew his arms from around your bare waist, clinging them to his chest under the blankets in a almost a protective way.

He nodded slowly, “sorry”

You smiled at him softly, moving your hand to cradle his cheek and move his head to look back at you.

“Don’t be, I just wanted to tell you” you spoke so caring and quiet, as if you were afraid of his reaction.

“Is it ...serious?” He furred his eyebrows together

“Serious enough to..” you pointed a finger and waved it between the two of you. “...stop this” taehyung finished for you, watching your slow nod. He sighed and laid on his back. It was his turn to get lost in thought.

You sat up and propped your body on your elbow so you were looking down at him. You felt bad, what you and taehyung had was special, but it wasn’t love, it was merely lust. You wished for a relationship where you were given all aspects, not just sex. And as much as you wished that person was Tae, you knew he wasn’t emotionally or physically available for that. You had to move on.

“Yeah” you mumbled, brushing his hair back from his forehead. You looked over him once more, knowing this was the last time you would probably see him here, in your bed. The way his tan skin reflects with the soft lighting of your room, or the way he always wears that one thin gold chain that brushes against your skin while you kiss. Perhaps you’d miss this.

“Well” taehyung breathed out, sitting up and grabbing his sweatpants to put back on over his boxers. “I hope that you get everything you want, and that he treats you right” he smiled softly. “And if not, I’m always across the hall” he joked, laughing but not feeling amused.

You smiled sadly, watching him leave so quickly and in such a hurry made things awkward very fast.

As he brushed his hair back with his hand, he leaned over the bed to grab his shirt, face close to yours. He probably shouldn’t do it, he knows it’s wrong considering there was someone else in the picture now, but regardless, he leaned in to press a quick, but delicate kiss to your lips.

You reciprocated, feeling the slight loneliness once he departed and threw his shirt over his head.

“Goodnight Y/N, get some rest soon, you have an early class in the morning” taehyung smiled sadly, nodding his head to the direction of the door.

The tone of the room was off putting, especially since beforehand, it was filled with soft moans and quiet cries.

He didn’t even ask anything about who you were seeing, he didn’t want to know. He just wanted you to be content and leave it at that.

..but god did he wish that he was in that position with you instead. However, this situation only confirms to taehyung that you never saw him like that. Within the span of a few minutes, all of his hopes were dashed.

The following weeks were weird, the nights returned to just dinner, nothing more. You two sat on separate couches while you ate, then, said your goodnight to leave to your own rooms. You rarely took solo showers before, now it’s all you took.

You and taehyung were just friends, always have been. So why was this bothering you so much? The awkwardness and the tension taehyung brought with him, it lingered.

You wanted to bring it up a few times but considered that maybe it’s not you, maybe he has something going on and it would make you look stupid if assumed he was sad over sex. He didn’t even like you like that anyways.

About a month after this, kaito asked to be your boyfriend. You said yes considering you’ve been on plenty enough dates to know this boy by now. And you liked him, he was handsome and caring, so it made sense.

Taehyung on the other hand simply congratulated you upon hearing the news

“That’s exciting” he nodded, a half smile while he looked down on his glass of whiskey, grateful to have it in this moment.

“I know, I wasn’t expecting it but it’s nice, because we have almost every lecture together and he has a solo dorm too, so I can go ov-“

Taehyung looked up at you

“Why don’t you bring him here?” He questioned

“Oh, um, I don’t know” you shrugged, giggling. “I just feel like maybe it would be awkward?”

“Are you embarrassed of me?” Taehyung inquires before shooting down the rest of his drink.

“What?? Of course not, tae-”

He laughs, “I was joking Y/N”

“Oh” you slumped down, fidgeting with your fork. “He does know who you are though, I’ve talked about you plenty some”

“Really?” He seemed surprised

You nodded, “I guess I can invite him and a few friends over this weekend if you wanna meet?”

“Yeah, let’s do that. Sounds good”

Taehyung cheered, suddenly happy that you would be bringing kaito over. Originally, he had no desire to meet, however with the news of your official relationship, he wants the opportunity to check the boy out.

“What about you, huh?” You smiled and wrapped the blanket around you, staring at the other couch where tae sat. He smiled, a similar one matching yours. “What do you mean?”

“Have anyone special in your life?”

You teased, watching as he laughed and shook his head. “I’m too busy for anything, you know that”

You nodded, “I guess”

The next morning taehyung woke up first, stepping into the living room to greet his dog and take him for a walk.

Sleepy eyed and messy haired, you stepped out of your room to see him dancing in the kitchen with yeontan, spinning around and singing along to whatever song was playing from his phone. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

You walked over to yeontan and brushed his hair back, putting on a high pitched baby voice

“Hiii tanny, Hii baby!” You giggles and looked up at taehyung, who was pouting. “Where’s my hello?”

“God you are dramatic” you sighed and ran your hand up and through his messy dark hair. “Hiiii taehyunggg!!” You whined, watching him become content with the action.

Taehyung put yeontan down and grabbed his coat, throwing it on before looking back to you, “I am going out to take him for a walk, do you want me to bring you back coffee?” He asked

You turned around to him, noticing your hair in the reflection of the mirror beside his head.

“Oh my god do I look like that?!” You threw a hand over your mouth before beginning to tug at the messy pony tail, attempting to remove the tangled elastic. Tae couldn’t help but laugh, walking over, “yes you do look like that, should we send a picture to kaito?” This remark earned a slap to his chest from you. “That’ll be the last thing you ever do, Kim!” You laughed before feeling his hands in your hair. “Don’t hurt yourself, let me do it”

With that, your arms dropped as he attempted to untangle the mess. Feeling his hands tug at your hair induced an intrusive thought, you quickly looked down as you were sure your face was red.

“There we go” he spoke confidently, seeming to be proud of himself for such action. “It’s out” he held up the elastic before bending over to pick the dog up. “Thank yo-”

You turned around the same time he stood back up, your faces dangerously close together. You remained silent as he watched you. “So, did you want coffee or no?” He re-asked.

You shook your head and brushed your hair with your fingers. “Uh, yea please, thank you taehyung.” You quickly muttered and watched as he smiled and opened the door. “Oh and if you walk by Mrs.Yangs bakery could you pick up Like, cupcakes or something? I don’t have any desserts for tomorrow” you spoke, handing him $20.

“Of course” he nodded sweetly and headed out, shutting the door behind him.

He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he made his way. Was he imagining the way you looked at him, was he imagining you being flustered? Even if he was, it was a nice thought to occupy his head. After all, that’s what he did best: entertained the thought of you possibly ever liking him the way he likes you.

After his walk, he made his way to the coffee shop, waiting in line with yeontan in his arms. “It’s busy today, huh?” He spoke to the tiny dog against his chest before walking up to order both of your coffees.

“Hello how can I help you” the boy at the desk turned around and stared at taehyung, noticing the dog in his grasp.

“Hi, can I please get 2 medium caramel coffe-“

“Dogs arent allowed in here, sorry sir” he quickly spoke.

Taehyung looked taken back, looking around before speaking. “Really?”

The barista nodded. “But I’ve brought him in here plenty of times before and it was never an issue” taehyung looked down at his pet. “Well sir, it’s an issue now”. Taehyung wet his lips, knowing he could walk away right now, but he always was bad at biting his tongue. “So wheres the sign?” He dramatically looked around, the barista growing more annoyed. Taehyung turned to the person behind him, who was sighing. “Did you know there’s no dogs allowed?” He sarcastically called out. “Because usually there’s a sign” he shrugged.

“Sir please go, there’s people waiting” the boy at the desk pointed behind him. “I’ve literally never even seen you here before, obviously someone who was just hired and on some power trip!” Tae glared to the boy, trying to read his name tag. “Go already!” Some woman in business attire yells to the front. He turned to her before looking back to the boy closely, the name ringing a bell. It was kaito

Oh fuck.

“Sir just go please“ kaito spoke, looking at taehyung. “Ok....ok I’ll go I apologize” he spoke quietly this time, only realizing how much he might have messed up as he exited the coffee shop. Tomorrow should be fun.

The apartment door being swung open grabbed your attention, looking away from your laptop to see yeontan run in, followed by taehyung, who had an unreadable expression across his face.

“Hi, are you ok?” You asked, watching him lock the door and walk up to you. “Yeah why wouldn’t I be?” He quickly responded. “Because you seem...I don’t know” you brushed it off and looked back to your screen. “What are you up too?” He asked, leaning over. “Class?” You giggled and sat back, observing him before realizing he was empty handed. “Tae did you forget to stop by the bakery?” You asked. Tae slapped his hand over his forehead, “fuck” he sighed, “Y/N I’m sorry, you wouldn’t believe what happened at the coffee shop, which would....explain why I forgot your coffee too....” he mumbled the end. I’ll go back out!!” He turned around before you called to him. “No no tae it’s fine, I’m going out later anyways I guess I’ll just pick it up myself, no worries.” You replied, seeing his guilty expression and feeling bad. “It’s ok I promise” you stood and hugged him, “cmon let’s just watch tv. I need a break from this class my brain feels fried” you both giggled before sitting on the couch. Taehyung sat on the opposite couch, watching yeontan run into your lap. He always had a feeling that dog liked you better than him. “Tae” you called to him, “you can sit with me” You motioned him over. He hesitantly gets up and walks over, sitting far away and tucking his legs onto the cushion. You sigh and look at him. “You know it’s ok for two close friends to sit next to eachother right? we’ve done worse.” You spoke, earning a laugh and a nod from him. “I just don’t wanna cross any boundaries” he sighed, moving closer. “It’s not bad if there’s no bad intent” you shrugged and cuddled into him.

You were right, you two always were cuddly with eachother even before the whole fwb thing. But maybe there was intention? Because he physically had to restrain himself from resting his hand underneath your shirt, or pressing his length against your back as you laid on your side. These things were once normal, now it feels horribly wrong, and the desire leaves him with unbelievable guilt. He couldn’t help that he was still attracted to you, the way you looked at him while he explained the coffee situation left him feeling warm, even if he left out the fact it was your boyfriend he almost grabbed by the collar. Maybe what they say is right, it’s almost impossible to be friends with someone you’ve had sex (multiple times) with and not feel anything afterwards. He wouldn’t dare bring it up, he knew you weren’t his, he let you out of his grasp and watched as you got up to use the bathroom. The cold feeling infiltrated his arms once more. He was in trouble, and perhaps after weeks of denying it, he finally was coming face to face with the issue.

He was in love with you.

#taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung series #taehyung fic #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #bts fluff #taehyung drabble

[sampsonstorm-critical]

Alright, so ive got something to point out about Vivs writing in HB. Almost all of the antagonists are BITCHY "conventonally perfect looking"Women. I just realized this.

Examples

- Verosika Mayday

- Mother Martha

- Stella

- Queen Bee

- The 13 year old girls at the camp...again "13 YEAR OLD GIRLS"

- NOTE - most men are NOT antagonists unless they are related to the characters like Crimson or Pieman. The only antagonist there who is a "conventially attractive" male is Striker.

- NOTE - all the female characters especially, in HB are shallow, one sided, cardboard cutouts. (so are the males, but at least they have "interesting" backstories. The women antagonists are also being made fun of for having adictions. As someone who has a mother who abused me because of alcohol abuse, (i still love her and care about her, and she still loves and cares about me, shes the only one whos ever helped me in my family and will give you the shirt off her back) and has a father who was just diagnosed woth liver failure, this IS NOT A JOKE. Like alright, you wanna have your characters IN CHARACTER insult somone that way. Fine. That is fine, because you are establishing a character. But if you are going to take your story or tour characters serious in any sense of the word, you need to adress said character flaws, and give the insulter consequences.

- NOTE - the show is RIFE with sexism. Like daaamn. The amount of time i hear someone called "Tits" or "Tittyhaver" , or the amount of times i see the show just shitting on women is appalling, and dude. Like im not a "feminist". I have plenty of Male Ocs. In fact i have more men than women for personal reasons. (Said personal reason are below. )

SPONTANIOUS BACKSTORY ON ME AND AN OLD COWRITTER- (im trans/butch and i improv my stories with my fiance. its how we build the foundation and the details of our stories. Once upon a time ago, i had a male cowritter who was ....um.....well, a male vivziepop. He would have his characters molest the female characters as a joke, make them make racist, sexist, ableist jokes and remarks, but then the characters would get no consequences and wouldnt grow. He had a female oc who was a sexual assault victim but of course was also a bad ass fem fatale with her tits out and a "she got her sexxy back" attitude. And all of his male characters were sad uwu boys who always had their gf wifus explaining to the characters why they were just "troubled" Sound familiar? Ive worked with this exact type of cowritter, type of writter Vivzipop is. It wasnt fun. And what sucks, is, the comedy was great. We had alot of great laughs, i wont lie. But the problem at the end of the day was my cowritter just wasnt mature, and lacked the life experience or just didnt care about how to handle the content he wanted to create. He just wanted an imaginary playground to play in and truely live vicariously through his ocs. Now hes playing dnd everyday, after he abandoned his real life and his real friends because real life got too hard. )

NOTE - Vivzie, the amount of incest related jokes and implications are concerning at this point. I mean the show is 18 plus, right? Well the first "sex scene" we get and its an incest joke, IN FRONT OF CHILDREN, DONE BY WHAT THE CHILDREN PERCEIVE TO BE CHILDREN. that IS NOT funny! (i was also sexually groomed by two friends fathers, one who engaged in oncestual abuse to both his kids!) NOT FUNNY MAN. Not at all. Oh not to mention Barbie Wire. Damn talk about a serious disappointment.

NOTE - Also can we adress that Asmodeus seems to be black coded and hes a lustful demon, whos dressed like a pimp... And Vortex, the only pther black characters is a Hell hound, litterally a being who was kept in a cage until "adopted" or thrown out!

CONCLUSION - Theres is SO MUCH more, but Spindlehorse NEEDS to "think before they act!" and watch what theyre putting out there. They need to check their scripts, check their drafts, and check their final product BEFORE putting animated trash tv out in the open. Kids are watching this. Granted theyre not supposed to. But theyr ARE watching. You know how many kids (teens) are gonna get into relationships and think that this is ok? That abuse is ok, it just quirky. Spindlehorse is going to create a whole new generation of traumatized, confused, and toxic young people (im 26!) and i cant believe im saying this; The FCC was created so people like Vivian Madrano cant release grabage media like this, and expose young people who cant actually grasp the sensitive content, to its toxic after effects.

I WAS A FAN. I was so excited for Hazbin when the pilot dropped. It was a little shakey but what indie pilot wasnt back then? I liked the first season of Helluva. Some of the episodes were a miss like Spring Broken (sexual assault and addiction is not a joke) and the Cherub Episode. But the first episode was a good set up, again other than the "ill fuck you and your wife" joke. Loo Loo land came too early. We didnt know Stolas long enough or Octavia. Season 2 is BAD. The writting is bad. Characters are BAD. Direction is BAD. And by that i mean, the dialoge is horrid, the characters are poorly written and their traits are not being kept up with or are being missed or sidetracked for pLoT rEaSoNs, yuck. The direction? there is no direction. The pitch bible was BAD too. The only thing i liked about season 2 was the Moxxy mafia backstory flashback. It was ACTUALLY sinister and the mood hit for once. It was good. A flash of what the show could have been. Aaaaand they ruined it with bouncing dicks....yaaaay...

Also for anyone who wants to call me a homophobe. IM A BUTCH LESBIAN IN A 10 year HAPPY common law relationship. My best friend is NB and i have a LESBIAN SISTER. so fuck off and just accept the fact. The show in its entirety is just bad. It had potential, but because the writters behind the scenes are just immature, insensitive, hollywood wannabe, jackasses the show will never get to where it couldve gone. It went the opposite way. And its sad. Its sad that THIS is the prime example for adult animated show writting. Talk about a bad impression in the community of art, animation, and for young aspiring artist who have actual talent and who truely came from nothing. This isnt a rags to riches story. This is a selfish privlaged girl got money handed to her and she squandered it completely all while making indie artists "look like a fucking joke" (am i right Vagie?) I want Hazbin to be good. I want it to be SO BAD. Im hoping it will be with some studio oversight. ....but im doubtful.

Anyway! Hope you enjoyed my angry rant! GNight 😊

#helluva critical #helluva criticism #helluva critique #anger #rage #trash tv

[briefcasejuice]

i think, and im gonna get real film major on you for a second, that european cinematography is peak film, as boring as it is. listen to me ok film at its core is simply an emotional and technological expansion upon photography; like historically the invention of film began with the invention of the camera for photography and therefore film as an art is entirely dependent on the camera and what one does with it aka cinematography. i think the most basic kind of cinematography is the kind in which the camera is moving because you learn how to use a camera before you learn how to use a tripod and some of the most dynamic kinds of cinematography build off this basic rule of the moving camera to points where people forget the importance of the other parts of a film — dialogue, acting, and other core aspects of a story and plot in general — that need to be built off of, around or with cinematography in order to make that movement of the camera worthwhile in the end. imo european cinematography takes these ideas and throws it into other core aspects of what 'european cinema' is to create some of the most dynamic and loaded scenes one can create. it doesn't help that film in and of itself isn't original at all because first we had theatre and in theatre, you sat in one place and watched as an entire story played out on a static stage. off the top of my head some of the best examples of this are the color of pomegranates (1969), red desert (1964) and a lot of igmar bergman films (excuse me for how shallow these examples are but. whatever L you're a nerd). when you react to the script and dialogue etc you realise how many aspects of theatre & literature are taken inspiration from to create the emotional aspects of it like symbolism and metaphors to the point where it starts sounding like poetry. when you pair that with scenes loaded with mise en scene that are almost entirely intentional and just as loaded with symbolism and metaphors paired with lingering and still cinematography that forces you into an almost meditative state in which you are made to ponder and analyse the film itself, the otherwise 'boring' cinematography starts to make sense. i also want to add that some of the best experimental films ive ever watched take this exact technique to depict their experimental content, and a large aspect of the experimental genre explores the topic of filmmaking (or creating art generally) itself, almost alluding to the ideas of the very basics of filmmaking with a camera and a tripod, paying respect to theatre as a kind of film forefather as well as not only forcing you to pay attention to the actual content of the film by not taking away from it with camera movements but also forcing you to analyse the happenings of the film through a meditative attitude

#long post

[jrjeremy]

what if... Gorillaz at their most worst in which phase album-wise ((from what Ive thought about!!!))

Murdoc – Wish You Wear Ear (Song Machine, Season One: Strange Timez), originally I was gonna go for Plastic Beach but that album was already the point of where the band was at their lowest.. it's a tad tricky but Song Machine had Murdoc acting up unusual from his character, youve seen that man crawl up into a ball and cry which was from the assumption of him thinking the band left him for good, to him going absurd over portals in Kong...

If all honestly Song Machine was him being at his most strangest timez (get it..? strange... timez, heehe), I would've said for him he was at the absolute worst during his childhood if only it was composed into an album, wouldn't really want that though.. Broken was already sad enough to hear coming from him :c

Noodle – Escape To Plastic Beach (Plastic Beach), phase 3 was definitely something huge for Gorillaz that I would've just about put Plastic Beach for almost everyone in the band, for the most part though, Noodle had definitely went through a tad too much during Plastic Beach... know that Noodle is pretty as chaotic as Murdoc is but in a good way unlike Murdoc

Though in Plastic Beach.. see the lore behind the whole phase is already huge enough, but as for being separated and taken away from the people you were supposed to be with, accidentally releasing a demon that you then had to hunt down by yourself, only to then having to deal with a cyborg version of yourself that tried to attack someone close that you know aka. the exact person who built that cyborg replica of you....

Easily you can get a lot of things wrong in the lore of Plastic Beach, but there's no doubt that Noodle had a pretty big experience in Plastic Beach than the rest of the phases, if none other, a really huge impact on her too!!

2-Dee – No More Unicorns Anymore (The Now Now), alright this one is definitely obvious, never have I heard 2D sound this sad in an entire album, add on with the fact that The Now Now was entirely written by him is just heartbreaking :C

To summarise, you basically had Murdoc being thrown in jail for drugs far far away from the rest of the band, and so without Murdoc, you have the first track in The Now Now, which is Humility, upon from the music video a lot of people gotten the thought that 2D was happy because Murdoc was in jail... now see, that would've been the case, if ONLY the rest of the WHOLE album hadn't had the saddest songs you've ever gotten out of Gorillaz, andd cause of that, I've gotten the thought that Humility was 2D just having some time by himself free of charge with the rest without Murdoc because he had the thinking of "He'll be back soon" only to realise that later on it'll be a lot more longer than just soon, I have no evidence of this so it's only up to my assumption, but MIGHTY is the rest of the songs just... really real sad..

((three sections of out of topic talk about the songs in The Now Now below))

One of the songs I heard before listening to the whole album was Souk Eye, and that was the end track of the album according to the listing, I thought it was already the saddest song or at least the most heart inducing song ever made from Gorillaz, and you just never really expected these songs to come out of Gorillaz... so, that was for Souk Eye, UNTIL I for once heard the rest of the album

I HAD NEVER SEEN ANYBODY, EVER TALKED ABOUT, FIRE FLIES.

This was a song I REALLY REALLY least expected over the name of the song itself, and IT REALLY, REALLY MAKES MY HEART JUST..... FEEL WAY TOO MUCH, that's not even the only song, in fact the rest of the album has it's songs in this really... really heavy, heartfelt, heartbreaking impact, but bet on me that Fire Flies is ultimately the song that had gotten me feeling the most from the entire album, to the point it made Souk Eye look happier than a song named FIRE FLIES...

If all, Humility really felt like a break for the least expected only to be hit right in the face right after that, from how I perceive the album along with through it's lyrics, it showcases just how 2D has been feeling through for however long he had been all while Murdoc wasn't around, and these songs just show that 2D really wasn't doing well..

From the track listing, The Now Now seemed like it was... this will sound insane but representing the five stages of grief for 2D, youve already gotten denial from the start, onto the rest which in some was pretty hard to tell that you might have to feel it through the song in order to tell it's there, for such like you could probably tell there's bargaining in Kansas, then you have anger in Sorcererz which isn't necessarily supposed to be an outrage in order to know that it's anger, and then there's some songs that sort of feel more to the type of thinking back to the past like memories, those being like Idaho and Magic City... and boy did the depression stage really kick in, Fire Flies and One Percent just really touches your heart in the worst way possible, especially with the fact it's coming from our boy 2D it makes it even more worst.....

This is why I said Souk Eye sounded a lot more happier, as to it's like the very ending which leads to the last stage of grief, didn't really know what happened after The Now Now like right after Murdoc got back to the band, but Souk Eye does still touch your heart, except it's a lot more comforting than the previous two songs you've heard, no doubt it's still really sad though.. but it's also just really warming too, the songs in the album itself really just explains how this phase was the worst for 2D to had ever been

Russel – Celebrity Take Down (Gorillaz), this one's a really tough one, again could've said for Plastic Beach as all that happened to Russ was that he tried to off himself only to mutate into a huge godzilla size of himself, though in the first album.. well before the album itself, Russel wouldnt have gotten any chances to be in the band if only he wasn't kidnapped by Murdoc himself, just as bad as how 2D joined the band

Though that might not count, in the debut studio album Russel was first introduced with a ghostly friend possessing him which lasted until or before Demon Days came in, even when it didn't really seemed that bad while Dell was around taking over Russel's mind, it was definitely the most interesting version of Russel since other than the first album, you kind of have Russel not really taking in the worst in the other phases, really didn't really got anything from Russel out of Cracker Island since he was just hypnotised by a television static for the entire album

know that I haven't covered everything that was made or confirmed by Gorillaz!!! So far I'm only giving my thoughts based on the albums I've listened to, so I may not be too keen on the entire lore of Gorillaz, neither do I know much about the books too!! c:

#good grief #i think this whole thing turned into a whole 2d rant about the now now instead #gorillaz #gorillaz headcanon #long words... #song machine #plastic beach #the now now #gorillaz self-titled album

[sincerely-sofie]

The finishing of this fanfic has left me with some pretty mixed emotions. On the one hand, I dont want it to end. It's such an incredible piece of work and even though I finally committed to reading it a few weeks ago, it already feels like such a significant part of my life. On the other hand, I'm a little glad that it's over. FAR from the sense it was bad (I'll steal your liver if thats how you interpret it) but moreso in the sense that it was like a good crying session. It's something that a lot of us (or I assume a lot of us) typically want to avoid even though we know its good for us, and satisfying after the fact. It's like catharsis in a way. Endings aren't always a great feeling in the moment, but it's something that we can look back on with a fondness.

I'm so glad I found this work. I'm being completely serious when I say that this fanfic, and the other content you make, has changed my life for the better. Its helped me reconnect with that love I have for creativity after nearly a decade of not making anything even though I wanted to. It's helped pulled me out of a few ruts of depression. It's helped me realize that I'm not actually emotionally stunted (per my own conclusions) and be more willing to cry instead of burying those feelings. In the past I would just, kill these kinda thoughts before they got far because of how much I wanted to avoid crying. Much less actually writing them down, or express them to someone else. But now, I've been crying the whole time I write this, and for the first time in, I think ever, I'm okay with that. I know we don't actually know each other, but you've genuinely helped me become a better person with the things you make. Thank you so much for everything you've done Sofie. hey look! I got your name right!

But enough about me. I feel like it's getting indulgent at this point. (I've gotten dehydrated with how much ive cried writing this and from what I can tell, you cry a lot more than I do. So go drink some water first, and then) I wanna hear your thoughts. What are your thoughts and feelings about your work being finished? Do you have plans to take a break from creative endevors for a while, or are you gonna keep going? Are you going to be expanding more on this and other au's, different fanworks or move into something completely your own? Whatever the case may be, I'm excited to see what more you are going to come up with!

From the bottom of my heart, and on behalf of everyone else, Thank you for everything.

It's so surreal to have posted that final chapter. I finished the first draft almost 100 days ago exactly, and I spent a number of days after completing it kind of adrift. I'd go to my computer every morning like I had during the month prior and sit down, ready to write, only to remember that I was actually supposed to be taking a break before I made the final edits.  It didn't click in my head that I had actually done it… until a couple weeks later when it hit me like a truck that I had an entire completed manuscript sitting in my Google Docs. I think I was making myself lunch at that moment, and I had to bolt to lie down on the floor and put my legs up against the wall because I was ready to pass out at the realization. 

This feels pretty similar. For me, The Present is a Gift— the main fanfic, at least— was finished in mid-January. But the process of uploading it and agonizing over what people thought of every passing update wouldn't be formally done until about 3 months later. It still hasn't clicked in my head that I won't be posting a new update once Tuesday rolls around. 

On the subject of taking a break— I've actually been taking a break, at least partway! I've barely written anything after I finished TPiaG's first draft, and I haven't drawn much “serious” art, for lack of a better word, since I started my blog. I've still been making things, yes, but scattered oneshots and sketchy pieces without solid lineart are not my typical fare. I'm usually a lot more “exact” with what I make— words fail me here— I hope I'm not being too vague! I might take a brief break as I finish up the winter semester, but that would be less a break from creating and more of an “OH MY WORD I NEED TO FOCUS ON NOTHING BUT PASSING THESE COURSES” kinda thing. 

TPiaG (along with its derivative AUs) is still very much a living project to me— there's a lot more stories the characters have in them, even if I struggle to envision a full-on sequel. I'm absolutely going to answer the asks relating to it that I've received over the months along with any I continue to receive, and if I get any ideas for comics or oneshots here and there, I'll make them. As for what's officially next up on the Sincerely Sofie menu, I'm planning to make a visual novel that's a lot more meaty than the last one I made. I'm not sure if it will be original or based on TPiaG— but a visual novel is the medium I'm planning on! 

I'm so overwhelmed by your kindness. I truly don't have any words. This project started off as something private to help distract me from a depressive episode and to process trauma, and it's become so much more. I'm so glad it was able to help you. Catharsis was the keyword for TPiaG— I wanted it to uproot difficult emotions and help people start to heal from them, but I never dreamed it would really help anyone but myself. So to hear it was able to provide you with that is unbelievably meaningful to me. 

I gave myself the goal somewhat recently to let myself cry whenever the urge strikes me. I used to go months without crying, and whenever I did shed tears, it was alone in my room while muffling the few sounds I accidentally let slip. I'm a natural crybaby, but I had schooled myself into thinking for a number of reasons that it was bad to cry— that it was selfish, or attention-seeking, or weak— so I've been trying to reclaim my teary-eyed identity. It's been difficult, but it's so freeing to let myself feel things fully. All of this is to say: let the tears fall. I've helped more people by crying than my stoicism ever did. 

Thanks again. I can't properly word my gratitude, but know that it's overwhelming :,>

#sofie answers asks #the present is a gift au

[tolkien-feels]

No please tell me more about your Eowyn is the Beren to Faramir’s Luthien agenda 🥺

I will try to keep this short but I predict I'll fail.

Okay so, the core of it is that there's a very, very strong theme of winter turning into spring that is repeated in both stories, in very similar ways. I would dismiss it as being a fairly generic metaphor, except, check this out

[Beren] did not fear death, but only captivity, and being bold and desperate he escaped both death and bonds; and the deeds of lonely daring that he achieved were noised abroad throughout Beleriand, and the tale of them came even into Doriath.

Which should bring to mind

‘. . . I can ride and wield blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.’

‘What do you fear, lady?’ he asked.

‘A cage,’ she said. ‘To stay behind bars, until use and old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.’

It's not just that, though. It's much more prominent in the poetic Lay but Beren's reaction to the massacre of the Outlaws is described in very similar terms to Eowyn's arc. After burying his father in an unmarked grave and shouting promises of revenge, we're told

And then [Beren] turned, and did not weep:

too dark his heart, the wound too deep.

Out into night, as cold as stone,

loveless, friendless, he strode alone.

Almost each of these words actually has a matching passage for Eowyn in LotR, but it'd make this post too long to quote them all. But she's described as "a figured carven in stone" on the same chapter as she expresses her anguish over always being left behind - actually, the very scene where Aragorn offers her pity rather than love or even friendship, and she stands alone. And of course, that Eowyn doesn't weep and seems made of ice is such a recurring theme I don't even feel like I have to give you a quote.

When Beren first meets Luthien, he begins to cast away some of his despair almost immediately

A night there was when winter died;

then all alone she sang and cried

and danced until the dawn of spring,

and chanted some wild magic thing

that stirred him, 'till at last it broke

the bonds that held him, and he woke

from dreaming deep and cold despair.

The very first time Eowyn speaks to Faramir, this happens

She did not answer, but as he looked at her it seemed to him that something in her softened, as though a bitter frost were yielding at the first faint presage of spring. A tear sprang in her eye and fell down her cheek, like a glistening rain-drop. Her proud head drooped a little.

There's also a whole thing about how Luthien comes to Beren again and again, not unlike Faramir who has Eowyn walk with him in the garden. But that's pretty circumstantial.

More interesting I find a different parallel. It's too long so I can't quote either, but it's just before Eowyn and Faramir learn the war has been won, and in the Leithian, it's the beginning of Canto IV (iirc). There's a whole discussion of fate and darkness both times, and both Beren and Eowyn raise the possibility that maybe they were wrong to have hoped for the return of light.

What is even more interesting, though, is the extremely similar body language:

. . . she came

at the sweet calling of her name;

and thus in his her slender hand

was linked . . .

Which is mirrored by

And as they stood so, their hands met and clasped, though they did not know it.

And then also this

her arms about his neck did go,

and gently down she drew to rest

his weary head upon her breast.

Which, while not an exact parallel, reminds me a lot of

And he stooped and kissed her brow.

Like. Any one of these parallels could easily be a coincidence, but there are so many, that if Tolkien wasn't consciously making a parallel, he was at least thinking of similar concepts.

I'll also point out that when Beren and Luthien get together after their death and everything, they retire to "Tol Galen the green isle" and Beren nopes out of any further Great Deeds™️ and instead

. . . the Land of the Dead that Live became like a vision of the land of the Valar, and no place has been since so fair, so fruitful, or so filled with light.

Which should bring to mind

‘I stand in Minas Anor, the Tower of the Sun,’ she said; ‘and behold! the Shadow has departed! I will be a shieldmaiden no longer, nor vie with the great Riders, nor take joy only in the songs of slaying. I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren.’

Also, I couldn't find anywhere to include this, but both Faramir and Luthien walk a fine line between being kind and merciful and being unflinchingly brave and strong to the point where they're dangerous if pushed.

It's not exactly that Faramir and Eowyn parallel Luthien and Beren in the way Arwen and Aragorn do, it's more like... How to explain it....... It's almost like Tolkien gave Arwen and Aragorn the Leithian story arc and Faramir and Eowyn the Leithian character arc. More or less.

......I should shut up about it because I promised I'd be brief. But as you can see I'm very normal about this

#slightly edited for typos

[cowboyemeritus]

Chit-Chat (Papa IV/Cirrus/Reader)

Small talk around the breakfast table. (18+)

Read on AO3

“Oh hey, girl.”

Copia immediately flushes. He’s glad he has his paints on; otherwise, it would be pretty clear to everyone in the dining hall what’s happening.

“Hey, girl,” you say, looking up at Cirrus as she sets her plate at the table and sits down. “Sleep okay?” The air ghoul chuckles softly.

“Like a baby.” She starts spreading butter on a piece of toast, a sickly-sweet smile on her face. “What about you two?” It’s like she knew to wait until Copia took a sip of his coffee to say it, reveling in how he coughs and sputters in response.

You pat his back as he catches his breath. “Papa slept pretty soundly. Poor thing was just so tired.” Cirrus hums in agreement.

“Long day yesterday?” She asks, giving you a knowing look.

“Oh yeah.” You run your fingers through the hair at the base of Copia’s neck. The gesture is meant to be soothing, he knows, but it makes a shiver run down his spine and warmth pool in his gut with the image it calls to mind. You had done the exact same thing the night previous, but under a very different pretense.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You ask, pressing your lips to Copia’s pulse point. He shudders, hips bucking. Beneath him, Cirrus moans deliciously.

“Oh yeah, just like that,” she gasps, clawed fingers tangling in her silvery hair. Her tail slaps impatiently against the bed when Copia remains motionless.

“It’s nothing,” he says. Testing the waters, he thrusts his hips forward and immediately regrets it. He’s entirely too close to his orgasm already. The taste of the air ghoul, like fresh-fallen snow and ozone, still lingers on his tongue, and he groans quietly at the memory of your pussy fluttering around him only a few minutes prior. At least he had made oneofyou cum tonight.

“Are you scared to fuck her like you fuck me?” Copia shakes his head. This had been your idea, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been excited by the prospect of having his Prime Mover and one of his ghouls at the same time, of proving himself to the both of you.

It hasn’t been going the way he thought it would.

But the show must go on. Slowly, he begins to pump into Cirrus. He lets out a breath through gritted teeth as the coil in his gut tightens, and he has to stop once more lest he fall over the edge. The ghoul whines. From behind, Copia hears you chuckle.

“I think I know what the problem is,” you coo, reaching an arm around to grab Copia’s chin. You turn his head so that you’re eye-to-eye with, foreheads just barely touching. “Bite off a bit more than you could chew, huh?” Cheeks burning with embarrassment, he’s trying to come up with a witty retort when Cirrus grinds her hips into him. With a pathetically stifled moan, Copia has to pull out entirely, gripping the base of his cock to keep his climax at bay.

“Amore,” he pants. “I-“ You shush him before he can finish.

“It’s okay, baby.” Copia can’t help but flush deeper as you plant a gentle kiss on his cheek. The hand gripping his face begins to travel downwards, tickling as it brushes across his skin. After a painfully long descent, it joins the one around his shaft. “Let me.” He nods and lets go, your fingers replacing his in a tight hold. Behind him, your hips bump against his ass, guiding him forward so that he’s lined up with Cirrus’ cunt. You push a little more, and his tip slides inside.

“We’ll take it nice and easy,” you whisper, kissing his cheek again. “Just follow my lead.” Slowly, you grind into him, the momentum easing more of his length inside Cirrus. She’s now propped up on her forearms, watching the display before her. The ghoul makes a pleased noise, almost a trill, once Copia is seated to the hilt. Still gripping his shaft, your other hand comes to rest on his lower back, nudging him forward at a steady pace. Cirrus flops back down on the bed, clearly wanting more.

“Touch her for me, baby. Let’s make her feel good.” Not wanting to disappoint, Copia complies, drawing his thumb in circles around Cirrus’ clit. She responds to the stimulation immediately, back arching off the mattress and her tail winding around Copia’s forearm.

“Fuck, Papa,” she groans. In the back of his mind, Copia knows you’re the one really doing the fucking here, but the sound of the ghoul — his ghoul — crying out in pleasure stokes the fire inside him. Feeling somewhat emboldened, Copia starts thrusting into Cirrus harder, his fingers working her sensitive bud a little faster.

“That’s it, love,” you coo. Although you keep gripping his cock, the guiding hand on his back begins to wander up his spine. Leaning forward, you kiss the corner of Copia’s mouth, and he turns his head to give you better access. Your fingers wind into his hair, and he can’t help but hum into your mouth approvingly as you lightly scratch at his scalp.

“I’m so close,” Cirrus gasps. “Oh, fuck, please.” You chuckle softly, breaking away from the kiss.

“Give it to her, Papa.” That’s all the encouragement either of them need. It only takes a few more pumps before Cirrus falls over the edge, gripping the sheets and spasming around Copia wildly. You let go of him then, and he’s immediately launched towards his climax, made all the more sweet by the embarrassment that still simmers in his chest. He’s about to reach his peak when your hands suddenly fly to his hips, pulling him back. His cock slips out, and he’s about to protest when you grip him yet again. 

Before he can even register what’s happened, you start stroking him vigorously. It’s not long before Copia finally cums, moaning through gritted teeth. Hot seed spills over your knuckles and streaks across Cirrus’ abdomen. After catching her breath, the ghoul gathers some of it on a finger, bringing it to her mouth before-

“Well, I’m not surprised,” she says, licking a bit of the extra butter off her knife. “Trying to please everyone all the time must be exhausting.” You grin at each other, your hand traveling to Copia’s shoulder. You give it a squeeze, and with a start, he emerges from his trance, cheeks burning and pants straining.

“Falling asleep already, Papa?” Aether asks from the seat next to him. If he’s privy to the subtext of the conversation or not, Copia can’t tell. He prays not, but the ghouls have ways of communicating with each other that he doesn’t entirely understand.

“Ah, no,” he stammers, reaching for his coffee once again. “I was just… Lost in thought.” He takes a long sip, relishing in the grounding, earthy flavor. To his relief, the fog begins to clear from his mind.

“Either way,” you interject. “We should try and get you to bed early again. We can’t have our Papa collapsing from exhaustion.” Cirrus nods, her shoulders shaking with held-back laughter. Seeing this, Dew raises an eyebrow, but chooses to say nothing. Instead, he shoots you and Cirrus a look. The tips of his fangs gleam in the morning light as his lips quirk up into a slight grin. Cirrus smiles too, humming as she does a quick survey of the table. Seven pairs of fiendish eyes, all glimmering with anticipation, meet hers. She looks to you again, and Copia’s stomach drops.

“You’re in luck,” she says. “I know a few ghouls who would be more than happy to help enforce that.”

#my writing #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus iv x reader #cirrus ghoulette x reader #the band ghost x reader #papa emeritus iv #cirrus ghoulette #yall know copia's gonna get destroyed later #rip king

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Merry Whumpmas 2023 Day 1: Hospital

(featuring OC's Rowan and Victoria)

TW: Broken ribs, hospital, ghost, bruises, sprained wrist, IV drip, needle mention, heart monitor painkiller mention

Masterpost

Rowan regained consciousness slowly. At first, the only thing he was aware of was how he was somehow unable to fully draw breath. It was as if his chest was constricted somehow.

The second thing he became aware of was the stabbing pain and the sensation of bone grinding together whenever he tried to inhale too forcibly.

He groaned softly, which led to the discovery of a third thing: the plastic oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose. He then noticed the softness of a bed beneath him, a blanket overtop him, the bandages bound tightly across his chest and around his left wrist. The fingers of his left hand twitched automatically with this newest discovery, and cold flames licked up his arm as a result.

Rowan’s eyes fluttered open. The harsh lights overhead threatened to blind him, and he squinted at his surroundings. He lay on his back in one of those hospital beds at an angle that wasn’t completely flat but not straight upright either, somewhere in between. The ceiling was made of foam squares with tiny black dots—or were those holes? He couldn’t tell—and the walls were a dull white.

As Rowan studied the walls, trying to determine if they were textured, a… figure… of some sort detached itself from the exact spot on the wall he was staring at. He barely made out the outline as it moved from one side of the room to the other before vanishing through the opposite wall. He blinked in shock, expecting to have felt some boiling unease at the sight of the specter. So the ghost was harmless…?

He continued his sweep of the room. A complex machine rested to the left of his bed, one of the screens displaying what he assumed was a heart monitor, beeping softly for every second that passed. An IV drip next to it almost drew his attention to the needle embedded in his arm, but he forced himself to look to the other side of the room.

On his right side was the door leading out to the rest of the hospital. Next to the door were two chairs, with the space for a third chair left empty. As his eyes finished moving to the right, he realized why. The chair had been moved closer to his bed, and sitting in it, with eyes closed and head resting at an uncomfortable angle against the wall, was Victoria.

Rowan stared at her, listening to the constant beeping of his heart and the distant whirring of some other machine nearby. Two cuts on her face had been cleaned and bandaged, and several bruises in various shades decorated what skin was visible underneath her loose band shirt and jeans. More time passed until he sheepishly realized he should probably let her know he was awake.

“Hey,” he said, wincing. Speaking hurt a lot more than he thought it would. It didn’t help that his throat felt like sandpaper. The oxygen mask fogged up when he talked and muffled the sound slightly. “I think this place is haunted.”

Victoria started awake, blinking rapidly as her eyes readjusted to the bright lights. “Oh—uh—you’re awake!” She gasped out when she noticed him staring at her.

“Uh… yeah.” He slowly inhaled, trying not to disturb his injuries. “...Did what’s-her-name break my ribs?”

“Yeah. Pretty badly, from what the doctors told us. They’ve had you on some pretty strong painkillers for hours now.”

“...ah… that would explain the ghost I saw.”

She squinted at him. “You saw a ghost?”

“Uhuh. Came right through that wall over there.” He lifted his right hand to point at the spot where it had emerged. “And passed through the wall behind me.”

Victoria stared at the wall he indicated. “Well…” she said softly, “I was about to tell you it was the painkillers, ghosts aren’t real, but I honestly don’t know what’s supposed to be real and what isn’t any more.” She turned back to him. “You weren’t really in a coherent state when we managed to get you here. All the blunt force trauma messed you up pretty badly. What do you remember of the fight?”

Rowan grimaced. “I remember Granite or whatever-her-name-was got pretty pissed off when I kept dodging the big rocks she was throwing, so she focused her efforts solely on me… and I saw Sam… and then…” he shrugged and immediately regretted it. “Ugh… think those painkillers are wearing off… where is Sam anyway? And Ollie?”

“Waiting room,” Victoria said casually. Standing, she stretched, making a face as her sore muscles and bruises protested. “They wouldn’t let us in at all, at first, but we insisted. They only relented on the condition it was one at a time and we wouldn’t try to wake you up. Ollie’s gonna be so mad when they find out you woke up and they weren’t there.” She glanced at the door. “Speaking of… I should let the nurses know you’re awake.”

She crossed the room to the door before pausing with one hand on the knob. “Don’t… do anything stupid.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Since when have I done anything stupid?”

Victoria smirked and left the room, the door silently shutting behind her. Rowan settled back and focused on breathing with as little pain as he could manage. An impossible task, perhaps, but doable. Once he got another dose of pain meds.

(Rowan and Victoria are from a project I'm currently referring to as my teen superhero story. They appear in another story that I haven't posted here yet but will eventually.)

#merry whumpmas #my writing #oc writing #rowan ftdc #victoria ftdc #tw broken ribs #tw needle #tw pain #tw broken bones #tw painkillers #tw hospital #superhero story #whump #whump broken ribs #whump hospital #painkiller #ghost #forsaken: the doomed city #ftdc