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thought this was funny for a sticker

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the concept of dick grayson getting no hoes in my stories cuz it’s fuck twelve not fuck on twelve💯

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I THINK IT LOOKS BEAUTIFUL HERE!! i had to follow bc of your dislikes

"people who've never sat in a braiding chair for more than five hours"

LMAOOO no i’m literally so serious about this too. if you’ve never felt the pain of what you think gon be the last braid get parted into two.. you ain’t gang🙂‍↔️ (/hj)

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Sinners (2025), dir. Ryan Coogler

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fucking love the pitt. they let the autistic girl chill with a dog fo a bit then her boss came in like "fucking love u girl my least troublesome intern wanna pick sooo much gravel out a dudes leg wound?" and she was just like 😀😀😀 incredible. banger autistic rep shes so me.

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the thing about weak hero class 1/2 is that it is ultimately the consequence of adults failing every single one of these kids at every single turn that basically makes this story possible. beomseok’s abusive adoptive dad, sieun’s differently negligent parents, the teachers at both the schools, yeongbin’s enabling parents, baku’s trash father, the lackadaisical policemen, the ceo, the teacher who didn’t bother investigating the truth behind things—all these different adults failing in various ways and making the system practically unlivable for the kids. none of them cared enough to put a stop to the mindless violence taking root all around them, some even actively aiding its progress with glee. they allowed such an environment to harbour where bullying was an expected reaction to weakness or timidness, where the hierarchy was ordered based on one’s ability to inflict violence. the grownups screwed up first, enabling the students to screw up later.

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one thing i really adore about wei wuxian’s relationship with the juniors is how earned it feels—because the respect they cultivate for him over the books is not borne just out of their acquaintance with him as a complete stranger but it also begins with a slight disrespect and disregard for him (speaking mainly of jin ling and jingyi here) because the person they later come to rely on and hold a high opinion of is not solely a result of wei wuxian’s general personality but also a result that happens despite their preconceived opinions of mo xuanyu who had a very big splotch of ill-repute. but what’s even more endearing about their bond and their respect for wei wuxian is that it sustains the revelation of mo xuanyu really being wei wuxian who made mo xuanyu’s ill-repute dwarf beside the slander harboured at large against his ownself. it’s the fact that wei wuxian’s approach towards them was so on-the-mark, that the trust he’d built with them was so solid that it sustained the rocking of its foundation and i think this speaks to both his and the juniors’ ability to see truth in people and build relationships that don’t shatter at the first sight of trouble.

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"captain america doesnt stand for what the united states is, he stands for what it should be" he stands for nothing then god bless

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— when it rains. dick grayson. short excerpt (≈350 words).

small (reworked) excerpt from a scrapped fic i wrote five years ago. lmk if you want to know/see more or if i should lay it back to rest 🙏🏽

dick used to love the rain when he was younger. he loved the feel of it. loved seeing the mist it created temporarily hang over whatever city the circus stopped in, loved the smell it left afterwards. he especially loved the storms. the sound of the droplets making contact with his window calmed him in a way that nothing else ever could.

sometimes he’d dream of standing in the rain and letting it drench him, but he was too afraid of catching a cold the day after. between the scolding he’d earn and the pain he’d feel over missing a performance, he was content with watching the rain dance on his fingertips when he stuck his hand through the window.

the only thing he disliked about the storms was the thunder. he couldn’t stand how it made the ground shake and would hide under his blanket to try and protect himself from the noise. sometimes the thunder would last for just three seconds, but it would usually roll for what felt like hours for no good reason. he almost cried tears of joy the day his mother taught him how to observe the lightning—who was she if her son didn’t know how to properly time his retreats from the thunder?

now, as a grown man, it doesn’t make a difference to him. the feel, the smell, the volume of the storm, none of it mattered. it was always raining, be it due to climate change or due to mother nature having unfinished business with gotham. the thunder grew more aggressive with every storm, yet the sound was no more a threat to him than an unlit candle.

the thunder had found itself a purpose, at least. if he lets himself float away, just a bit, the sound of the sky tearing itself apart was enough to drown out the static in his own head.

a/n: and even if i do scrap it💔 if anyone wants me to expand on what this full story is about i will

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(this is long and not super structured but i need to out this into the air for when i actually write a proper essay or sumn lmao.)

i feel like a big reason why a lot of people fail to properly digest the plot and themes of whc1/2 is that they can’t turn off ship brain. and no i’m not one of those “it’s a bromanceee😩” people because a. it’s not and b. they don’t understand the show either.

weak hero is a show that requires you to examine every single dynamic with an equally watchful eye. what is sieun to suho? suho to beomseok? beomseok to youngyi? you even need to dive into all their different dynamics with the bullies (ex. what is it that makes sieun a target vs. beomseok, and how does that translate to the differences in how they’re harassed?) you have to understand how every single character and their actions impacts everyone else. if you watch weak hero as the sieun x suho show (which is your prerogative i promise you i’m not going to war over it) and not a show that highlights destructive cycles of violence, the way that ideals of “masculinity” reward and encourage violence, the ways in which children are used, abused, and discarded within society, and so on and so on and so on, then you miss out on a lot of what truly builds weak hero into what it is.

and like? idk walk w me for a second.

suho was sieun’s first friend, the first person that has his back, the first person who actually cared about him. he loves that boy in a way that he doesn’t properly understand because he has never needed to process emotions in such a way.

suho and sieun were the same for beomseok, but he didn’t have the same ability to accept that he possibly had something good. they were beomseok’s first friends, first people that gave a fuck about him, the first people in his life that didn’t beat his ass every day and night and make him feel unworthy of breathing. and he zeroed in on suho as suho was who he wanted/wanted to like him/wanted to be (complex ass set of feelings, right).

i’d honestly argue that everything sieun felt for/about suho, beomseok felt just as (if not more) intensely and was even more lost when it came to navigating that. which is a fucking nightmare when you remember the communication skills he never got to develop, as that doesn’t just mess up how he interacts with others but also how he interprets other people’s words and actions. and we see how that plays out.

you can’t just water down beomseok’s character to him being jealous and “sociopathic” (also please stop throwing that word around? lmao) and the one that broke apart #real lovers, because it shows that you refuse to engage with who his character actually is and what he represents in regards to the show’s themes and messages.

well actually i mean you can but that don’t make it right. i don’t have it in me at the moment to break down all the ways in which being a victim of horrific abuse for years can break down a child’s psyche in ways that will take twice as long to repair, the inner workings of a 16 year old boy’s mind, the fact that it wasn’t just about an instagram follow, yadda yadda, so to wrap this up:

1. shipping is fun i love it woo but i feel that a lot of the show that deserves to be dug into more just… isn’t? at least not by certain areas of the fandom and that’s not the end of the world but it does just upset me (seeing as how in those same circles i often see very odd discussion of beomseok as an abuse victim).

2. i yearn for more detailed analyses of sieun & suho vs suho & beomseok vs beomseok & sieun’s relationships with each other in ways that truly respect all of their characters and the deep emotions they feel for each other (platonic, romantic, resentment, jealousy, allat). GO DEEPER WITH THE “FIRST LOVE” COMMENT FROM THE DIRECTOR! REACH THE CENTER OF THE EARTH!

alright that’s all i got i hope you can see where my head is at😭

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the thing about weak hero class 1/2 is that it is ultimately the consequence of adults failing every single one of these kids at every single turn that basically makes this story possible. beomseok’s abusive adoptive dad, sieun’s differently negligent parents, the teachers at both the schools, yeongbin’s enabling parents, baku’s trash father, the lackadaisical policemen, the ceo, the teacher who didn’t bother investigating the truth behind things—all these different adults failing in various ways and making the system practically unlivable for the kids. none of them cared enough to put a stop to the mindless violence taking root all around them, some even actively aiding its progress with glee. they allowed such an environment to harbour where bullying was an expected reaction to weakness or timidness, where the hierarchy was ordered based on one’s ability to inflict violence. the grownups screwed up first, enabling the students to screw up later.

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unfortunately i am extremely strict with characters i love since i love all the ones that people don’t be understanding properly. i be reading fics and character studies yelling They Would Not Fucking Say That with tears in my eyes

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— insatiable. geto suguru. word count: 1.4k.

this is my first time actually posting on tumblr instead of just lurking so i figured i might as well open up with this older work i didn't want to waste away in my notes app. this is different from my current writing style but i hope y'all walkin w me anyways lmao.

cw: hunger as a literary device, nod to disordered eating as present in the manga

suguru has never known a time where he wasn’t hungry.

he was never a picky child, which served to both benefit and aggravate his parents. he’d pick every plate clean with no complaints, but he’d pick the fridge clean too if he got the chance. after dying a thousand deaths thinking about their next grocery bill, his mother would pat his head and tell him not to worry. his appetite meant he was going to be strong, anyways. let the boy eat, what the hell!

that was music to suguru’s little ears. he loved zaru soba and onigiri and the frozen melon bars his dad could never successfully hide. he was going to grow up to be strong and powerful, and his hunger reflected his desire.

there gets to be a point where a bottomless pit of a stomach becomes a concern, though. he realized when he was closing in on double digits and his parents started whispering about tapeworms that he needed to change something. the last thing he wanted was to worry them when he was supposed to be a good son.

suguru didn’t run to them for help when he saw a monster under his bed for the first time. he threw things at it, cursed at it, poked it with a meter stick until it finally lunged; he didn’t expect it to start swirling up into his hands when he threw them out to block the attack. he definitely didn’t expect to swallow the weird, glowy orb it turned into, and he absolutely didn’t expect it to taste like rotten soil soufflé.

suguru welcomed his tenth birthday by puking his guts into the kitchen sink.

from then on, he could see all the disgusting creatures that lingered everywhere, especially around his school. creeping over shoulders, lurking in mirrors, peaking out of backpacks. he got rid of them all, traded people’s worries for bags of chips and juice boxes. he’d try to wash away the taste of the glowy-orb-ball things with them. it never worked, and he gave up after a few weeks. it took suguru ages to learn to swallow them without throwing up until he saw stars. he got over it when he registered just how strong he felt.

this is what he was hungry for all this time. this power. it all tasted like shit and it made him feel horrible and he sometimes resented the people around him for making him suffer in such a way, but above all else? he felt satiated for the first time in forever.

and as life goes, all things fall apart.

his grades started slipping as he progressed through middle school. he began having nightmares so horrific he couldn’t put them into words. he suspected that somewhere down the line his parents got ahold of a journal of his.

he was helping people and it was making him miserable.

one night after spilling his guts into a bush (because why the fuck are these weird ass monsters everywhere and it’s fine because the more he kills the more powerful he gets but why can’t he just kill them regularly and they taste so bad he could die), suguru blacked out on the sidewalk. he woke up on a bench with a pamphlet for some high school in tokyo taped to his forehead.

he didn’t get home until one in the morning. that was the first time he remembered truly seeing disappointment cover his mother’s face.

life goes.

suguru kept getting stronger as everything else crumbled more and more. he brought up the high school to his parents. he figured it was for the best despite its distance. because of its distance, honestly. he was stressing them out, worrying them with every passing day. he wanted to be good for them, desperately so, and this was the way.

his father was more than open, on board before suguru finished making his case. his mother was wary. he was her only child, her pride and joy, a boy she couldn’t fathom sending away without trying to figure out what was going so wrong.

untouched lunches and missed dinners. arguments, apologies, prayers. screaming matches, appointments and diagnoses, medication after medication, broken bottles, bruised knees, bloody fingers—

you are a greedy child, suguru. you never know when to stop. all you do is consume, you consume everything around you. that’s all you know, isn’t it? you just suck the life out of everyone until there’s nothing left for you to take.

—and then he was off to tokyo.

high school was different. there were barely any students, everyone could see the same terrible things he could, and no one cared that there was something in him that was fundamentally… different. it was encouraged, actually.

the label of special grade gave him what he couldn’t get at home. it gave him a focus, a reason, a confirmation that he was strong. it also gave him some friends, and a particularly good friend, something he realized he previously lacked. he basked in it all.

he did everything he was told (on paper). he went on the missions, didn’t cause more than three problems a week with satoru, didn’t ask questions, didn’t make himself a threat. he went on the missions he was assigned, the ones he wasn’t, took on twice as much as he probably should have because it was his responsibility as a special grade and it’s not like he really had a choice anyways—

but he was good. so good that he knew the taste of a dying man’s blood before he could legally know the taste of alcohol. so good that he was trusted to walk a middle schooler to her death.

he tried not to let it phase him too much. riko spent her entire life preparing to die, and the ethics of it all wasn’t his concern. she was half his height and carried twice his responsibility; he just needed to keep her alive for a few days and not think too deeply about leading her straight to her death. a girl closer to primary school than college was set to die for the “greater good and stability of jujutsu society��� to blah blah whatever the fuck, and swallowing curses meant suguru could choke down his disgust with ease and pretend that all was well.

and then riko died.

shot dead in front of him, left to bleed out like the broken bodies he stepped over during missions. it was pure comedy that she was only taken after deciding she did, in fact, want to live.

and then satoru died. cut up with ragged lines etched into his body like the curses they toyed with to drag out missions. of course, suguru only got the details when they were filling out the incident reports. he dissociated through most of the process, but he could never ignore anything regarding satoru.

the whole incident left him fucked up. learning of his friend’s horror show of a resurrection was salt in his wounds—not so invincible to reach immortality, yet strong enough to come back—satoru was now stronger than suguru could ever be.

for the first time in years, suguru felt weak. and above all else, he was hungry. so incredibly hungry.

hungry when he closed riko’s lifeless eyes, hungry when he swallowed affirmations to satoru’s inquiry of mass homicide, hungry when he realized his other half no longer needed him, hungry when he accepted he was never needed, hungry when he chose to starve over choking down meals that made him sick.

sick of being used, used to being tired, tired of being hungry for something his tasteless food would never provide.

he needed a sign. a sense of direction to tell him what he needed to find, what he needed to do to fill the abyss inside his stomach.

yuki came and went.

haibara died.

it was supposed to be a grade three, so why wasn’t it a grade three, yaga, why do you keep sending us to die? and as he watched his junior get dragged out of the medbay, listened to his cries echo down the halls, grappled with the fact that no one cared:

suguru got what he was looking for.

he finally found the source of his hunger, and he would make sure he never felt it again.

a/n: the ending was a bit abrupt because this was originally a scrapped piece, but i'm considering circling back to this in the future so. let me know what you think! thanks for readinggg !

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masterlist !

no requests, but feel free to send me your thoughts about anything because i might just crack open that doc.

fanfiction !

— dc comics

none yet.

— marvel

coming soon: miles & miles g. arguing, hobie’s inner monologue during atsv

— jujutsu kaisen

insatiable - suguru centric

coming soon: entertainment industry au

— weak hero

coming soon: beomseok & suho communication breakdown, si-eun’s unanswered text messages (possible)

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my tags !

(this list will be updated as time goes on)

#emjeiwrites → my writing!

#emjeispeaks → mini essays about shows, films, books, music, etc.

#emjeianswers → answering asks and allat

#emjeirambles → less organized thoughts and rants

#emjeicreates → collages, edits, and doodles

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get to know me !

intro -

i'm emjei, i'm an eighteen year old film student (i promise i’m not like #that please free me), and this is a blog where i post my writing (both original and fanfiction) and also my general thoughts about anything and everything. i'm very much black and lesbian so know that i will always be running my mouth about something.

this is an 18+ blog. i generally tend to discuss and write about heavy/serious topics (will expand on this) and for that reason i'm running a tight mdni ship over here i fear.

interests -

current: dc comics, spiderverse, omniscient readers viewpoint, weak hero

general: moonlight (2016), k-dramas (the devil judge, beyond evil, bad & crazy, stuff in that realm), mdzs, [black] southern gothic media, various k-pop storylines, jujutsu kaisen, fashion, film, poetry, jazz music.

note: this is just scraping the surface but i truly am into a lot of stuff so feel free to ask me anything about anything.

likes !

black people, gay people, megan thee stallion, jason todd, açaí bowls, public transportation, vampires, wei wuxian, #real mental health awareness not that didyouknowdepressioncausesmemorylossandashrimpfriedthisrice shit, jazz music, ateez, matcha concoctions (i was here before tiktok shop got to it :/).

dislikes.

unnecessary ass negativity, people who've never sat in a braiding chair for more than five hours, people who claim they aren't ableist because their cousin's younger brother's best friend has autism, cheese on shit it has no business being on, the new 52, student loans.

rules -

i don't take requests but i do love conversation! my inbox is always open so you can ask me my thoughts on pretty much anything, and if you pique my interest enough i may just write out a full short story.

if there are any concerns about something i've written please don't come at me super crazy. the whole house gon be mad and we not gonna get anywhere.

if you absolutely hate a concept i've written please don't tell me and just block me.

as mentioned previously, please do not follow if you are under eighteen. same goes if you are an ageless or blank blog. it's all love but those are my boundaries.

general warnings -

lots of the media i enjoy touches heavily on topics of mental illnesses and disorders, various forms of abuse, racism, classism, allat. (i also like happy stuff i swear. i collect lalaloopsy dolls!) these are also things that have directly impacted my life, and i don't pull my punches in what i write.

everything i post that features these themes and topics will have specific and appropriate content warnings, but i just want to put this blanket warning out there! and don't worry, i also have plenty of more lighthearted stuff floating around in my documents and my head lmao.

that's all for now !

i'm a little all over the place sometimes, but i hope i'm able to connect with you in some way.

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// emjei — eighteen. they/them. black. college student. writer.

// about me — masterlist — tags

“therefore, my head was kingless. / i was a head alone, moaning in a wet black field.”

— ricky laurentiis, conditions for a southern gothic