moon-lv3r

[moon-lv3r]

my blood is on my hands °.*ೃ✧˚.

🦋 category: angst, hurt/comfort

🦋 characters: fugo, giorno, trish, mista, mentioned sheila e, narancia, bucciarati, abbacchio, jotaro and jolyne

🦋 summary: in which fugo finally begins to slowly heal and move on from his past, with the help of his surviving comrades. but as he would soon learn, nothing is ever easy. maybe he should just give up?

part 1 - acceptance

part 2 - relapse

part 3 - denial

part 4 - healing

🦋 warnings: implied SA, suicide, suicidal thoughts, self harm

🦋 notes: sorry this took so long. kinda had a writer's block and school and crashing out over assignments. its 3am and i got this done. fugo's suffering shall end soon... or shall not?

fugio is getting a lil heavier maybe i should make them fr

  It wasn’t a surprise when Fugo once again woke up to the blinding hospital lights. His entire right arm was bandaged up, not a skin to be seen. How bad had he hurt himself?

  He turned towards his right and saw a head of golden, messy, unkempt hair laying down on his bed. Giorno Giovanna. How long had he been there? Why was he there? Does he not have better things to do? 

  “I’m sorry,” It was all Fugo had to say. He was sure that Giorno was disappointed. Upset.

  All because Fugo went back to how he used to be. He was sure that everyone was disappointed. That he regressed, that his progress was now all gone. It was all his fault too. If only he had more self control. If only he could just think and not let his emotions run him. 

  Fugo did not know that Giorno spent every second that Fugo spent with his eyes closed worrying. Fugo did not know that Giorno lost his appetite, just hoping that Fugo would be alright. Fugo did not know that Giorno spent most of his time in the hospital, managing the mafia work at the same time, while waiting for Fugo to wake up.

  Fugo did not know that Mista cursed himself for letting Fugo go out. Fugo did not know that Mista was taking care of Giorno while worrying for Fugo. Fugo did not know that Mista had to carry the burden of the younger ones, as he was older and felt responsible for them now that Bucciarati was no longer here. Fugo did not know that Mista blamed himself for not being careful enough, for not being like Bucciarati.

  Fugo did not know that Trish locked herself up after seeing the scene. It took Mista an hour to convince her to come out. Fugo did not know that someone he barely talked to cared about him this much. Fugo did not know that Trish helped to clean up his blood despite being an extremely particular person. Fugo did not know that Trish did her very best to rid the room of the smell of blood.

  Fugo did not know that Sheila E immediately returned from her mission upon hearing of his hospitalisation. Fugo did not know that Sheila was cursing him out, while also harbouring a worry that she did not want others to see. Fugo did not know that Sheila helped to replace some of his blood soaked items. 

  So many acts of kindness, that the boy did not know happened, that the boy did not think he deserved. But at last, he was awake.

  “It’s alright Fugo,” Giorno replied, his tone soft and warm. Strange, Fugo never heard Giorno sounding like that. “You’re awake, that’s good enough.”

  Was Giorno telling the truth? Fugo did not want to emotionally rely on Giorno. He was the older one. Yet there Giorno sat, somehow seemingly older and more experienced. That was when Fugo realised that he knew little of Giorno’s life. 

  He knew Giorno can’t have had a normal life, nobody in Passione did. Otherwise, why would Giorno be standing right before him? A boy, barely an adult, the leader of a mafia. Sometimes, Fugo forgets that he was supposed to be the older one. Yet here he was, struggling to even live, while the boy in front of him could manage an entire underground empire. 

  Giorno was managing things that only adults should do, while Fugo can’t even stay alive. 

  Their differences were so pathetic. 

  Fugo was alone with Mista when he was discharged from the hospital. He had to see his therapist more frequently now. Mista tried to give the car a somewhat carefree atmosphere, not wanting Fugo to dwell and worry about unnecessary stuff. 

  “Sheila E was complaining y’know?” Mista began. “Some shit about wasting her time and money.” He was talking about Sheila’s mission. It had turned out to be pointless and a misinformation on their part. It was a good thing that Sheila managed to figure out the misinformation before things got out of hand. 

  Fugo nodded, “Yeah she’s like that.”

  He really did not know what else to say. He did kind of appreciate Mista’s attempt at making Fugo less shitty about himself. Mista really was trying to be the older brother figure that Fugo should have had as a young child. 

  Everyone really did seem to care about him. So why was it so hard for him to repay them back? All he had to do was to just live. Was that really so hard? 

  Was it really that hard to win against the constant battle in his mind? 

  When they arrived back home, Fugo could sense the worry on Trish’s face. He could tell that she was trying her best to appear as calm as she could, but her fingers seemed to be telling another story with how it was trembling. 

  Fugo’s room was clean. It was no longer messy. He never really bothered to tidy up his room, yet here it was, all neat and tidy. He knew who did it.

  Trish. 

  Mista’s mess was way worse that Fugo and Giorno never minded Fugo’s messiness. Perhaps this was Trish’s way of showing her care? He enjoyed his messy room however, as it reminded him of his own mind. 

  A mess that only he understood. 

  He noticed the new carpet too. Of course they would change it, why would they keep a bloodsoaked carpet at home? The smell would have to be sickening. He lifted the carpet to examine the floor, he could still see the stains. They must have removed it too late because they had been busy.

  A sign that he will never be free, no matter how much he tried to hide it. The stain on his life will follow him wherever he goes. A mark of him that he cannot conceal. 

  Just what exactly was healing supposed to be? 

  Did he even heal if he managed to relapse? Will he even heal? Just how possible was it for him to genuinely recover from his ugly childhood? 

  He knew that everyone was beyond disappointed and chose to hide it from him. Of course they would be. He basically just threw away his entire progress. 

 ��What did he deserve?

  What was his purpose?

  Did he really deserve to heal? 

  After everything… 

  He was at therapy again. His therapist assured him that healing was not a linear journey. It was normal to fall back. But he could not help but to feel a sense of guilt, uselessness and worthlessness. Because how could he fall back so badly?

  He didn’t understand it at all.

  Why would good progress be shattered so easily? Does it mean that the progress had been weak to begin with? 

  Poor boy, using logic to deduce emotions. Two things that should never be combined together. No wonder he could never understand himself. Because he never truly grasped the core to begin with. How could emotions be understood with logic? 

  Those two did not seem to go hand in hand. 

  To achieve something that seemed impossible, he would have to think out of the box, would he not? Maybe he had to find something out of his comfort zone. Clearly whatever he was doing before was not enough.

  Maybe he wasn’t enough.

  Wasn’t good enough. 

  He was stuck. What should a boy do? Not even hell wants to accept him. He kept living, surviving, breathing, over and over again.

  Yet, people like Bucciarati never saw the light of the day again. People who deserve to enjoy the freshness of a brand new day, never got to embrace it. He could feel ghostly hands pulling him down. Perhaps it was his survivor’s guilt. Or just guilt in general. All of the what if’s returned to haunt him again.

  He could never truly be free. 

  Not now, not ever. 

  What was he even feeling? 

  What were the answers that he was supposed to find? 

  Fugo found himself sitting on the rooftop again. The evening breeze tangled with his hair. People were beginning to return home to catch a break, while Fugo’s mind refused to let him rest.

  It has been a week since his return. Giorno would not let Fugo go on any missions, insisting on his rest. Fugo had an inkling that it was mainly Mista’s idea. Trish never talked much, it has always been awkward between them. Silence was their language. 

  Fugo knew what they were all thinking. He was in such a weak mental state that Giorno was afraid that he might mess up any missions to the point of beyond saving. Maybe Fugo himself was beyond saving. 

  It was once again night. Midnight had a gift for the young boy. Silence. Fugo laid on his bed, eyes glued on the ceiling as his mind wondered. 

  He wasn’t so sure why he was feeling so conflicted. It was a straightforward thing really. Heal or not to heal. Why was he deciding if he deserved it? Why? Why was he making it hard for himself? Why does he keep relapsing? Was he just attention seeking so people will know he’s fucked in the head and genuinely needs help? Does he need to make himself fucked up for people to think that he was messed up?

  Everyone knows that he wasn’t normal, so who or what was he trying to prove? What was wrong with him? Goddamn it!

  The frustration was killing him. The flames of fury burning him from the inside. Melting his core until there’s virtually nothing left. Everything about him, he chose to keep it all closed. He wasn’t going to open up anymore. He refused to go to therapy. 

  What did he deserve anyway? Was he really worth all of that effort? Nothing in his life seemed to go his way. There were people who were way more deserving of being saved. What was so special about him? He just couldn’t get it. 

  There has to be people more deserving than him. People who put in the effort and see the fruits of their hard work. He’s just a weakling. But he really wanted to free himself from the clutches of his past. Has he really lived his life? 

  Maybe it was worth a try? 

  He could feel his heartbeat accelerating at every thought about it. The anxiety over the uncertainty drives him crazy. He really doesn't know what to do anymore. To try or not to try?

  The morning sun blazed upon his face. Fugo’s eyes gazed around the room. His mind still full of the craze from the night before. He could only take in a deep breath. A knock at his door pulled him out of his train of thoughts.

  “Fugo?” Giorno’s voice poked through. “Your breakfast is cold.���   Shit… what’s the time? Fugo checked his clock… It was 12pm. He had overslept. Why did Giorno only wake him up now? Whatever, does it really matter? He’s just going to freshen up and head downstairs for his… lunch? Lunch or breakfast, it really wasn’t his priority. 

  What was his priority?   Fugo was unaware of the whispers going on downstairs as he prepared himself to be presentable. Trish stayed silent throughout the meal, her head heavy with thoughts. 

  “Is Fugo doing better?” She asked.

  “Eh I hope so,” Mista responded. “You should spend more time here.”

  The sound of Giorno’s footsteps heading back down silenced the two. The awkward atmosphere lingered, too thick to be cut. They all shared the same worry. Mista was starting to think that he should have been the one to get Fugo to come down and eat. Perhaps he should just go through with it. 

  It took awhile for Fugo to head down and join them. The tension only grew, the topic before he came was about him and they couldn’t possibly talk about the subject while he’s around. Mista was the one who eased the tension.

  “Giornoooo,” He began. “When is the next time we’re gonna go drinking?”   “I’m not even at the legal age,” Giorno replied without even looking up.

  “We’re Passione. The law means shit to us! Come on big boss please!” Mista begged.

  Trish laughed, “Drink some yourself. Nobody said you can’t drink alone.” 

  “Fucking steal that shit,” Fugo mumbled.

  Mista smiled, shooting Fugo an approving look, with a hint of pride in his eyes. “You get it man. I just need to steal some good ol’ wine.”   “Aren’t you legal?” Giorno asked.

  “Stealing is more fun,” Mista grinned. “Breaking the law is a real fun hobby y’know.”   Giorno shrugged. “It’s just robbery.”

  Trish started laughing at Mista, looking at him as though he did something stupid. He probably did, anyway. “Mista, Giorno is your boss. Crime is like his job.”

  “Where’s Sheila E?” Fugo asked.

  “Off on a mission eh. What was it again? Something to do with abused prostitutes I think. Is that right Giorno?” Mista rambled with food stuffed in his mouth. Giorno let out a small laugh as he nodded, backing Mista’s statement up.

  Trish gave him a hard slap on the shoulder, sending some of the food flying into Fugo’s face. It didn’t take long for laughter to burst around the table, so did some of Mista’s food, again. 

  “Seriously Mista you are,” Trish laughed. “Disgusting.”

  Giorno and Fugo cleaned the table up as Giorno made a comment about Mista being the oldest man baby he ever saw. Memories began flooding Fugo’s mind at that very moment. The bittersweetness of it all. His hands slowed down, an action noticed by Giorno, who gently placed his hands over Fugo’s, as if to say that everything will be fine. 

  That very night, Giorno stepped into Fugo’s room, holding Coco Jumbo.

  “What’s wrong Don G-” 

  Fugo could not even finish his sentence. Giorno simply waved him off and placed the animal on Fugo’s table. “You know about Polnareff right?” He asked.

  “Yes, you’ve told me about that man,” Fugo replied, unsure of where the conversation was going.

  “I think… talking to him will help you,” Giorno replied before exiting the room. “I’ll be at the roof if you need anything.”

  Fugo stared as the door gently shut behind Giorno. His eyes landed on the tortoise after that. 

  “Wanna come in?” The tortoise spoke up. “Its cozy in here, I have a fridge.”

  “Erm… sure?” Fugo reluctantly agreed, entering Coco Jumbo once again. He almost forgot how it looked like.

  His final mission with Bucciarati… If he could go back. Would he change everything? The ones who didn't make it. He missed them so much.

  Polnareff materialised himself before Fugo, on the sofa. That might have been a dead man, who's living as a tortoise. Doesn’t sound normal, but then again, nothing he had ever been was normal. 

  “Giorno is worried about you,” Polnareff began. “He’s just as bad as showing his emotions as you.”

  Fugo simply nodded as he helped himself to a drink.

  “He told me… about you. Sensitive issues and a bit of your past. You know… I have this friend. He was 17 when we met, still remember it. Saved my life. Great guy. Can’t show emotions too,” Polnareff continued.

  “I see, what did he do?” Fugo asked.

  “Saved me from an evil man. Inspired me to join him. He’s tough but a sweet guy. Good intentions,” Polnareff rambled. “But he needed to open up as well, handling everything on his own isn’t good.”

  Fugo took a sip, “What did he do?”   Polnareff sighed, leaning back on the sofa and staring up. “He left his family behind, to protect them. I still remember Jolyne over the phone, asking where he was. Even his wife asked me. But he told me to stay silent. I love that guy man, but…”

  “What are you saying?” Fugo asked. “Why are you telling me this?”   Polnareff looked at the young boy, a look that seemed to have seen it all. A stark contrast of the man he used to be. “I know its scary Fugo. Its okay to be scared. Don’t shut everyone out, that's all.”

  “Is that really all?” Fugo asked once again.

  Polnareff smiled. “Ah I told Giorno that you’re smart enough to figure it out. He wanted me to talk to you. He didn’t know how to help you, figured that a dead guy stuck in a tortoise know it all. I didn’t know how to get through to you, so I used my friend. I hope he’s doing alright too.”

  Fugo looked down at his palms squeezing the can in between his hands. Had he been hurting the ones around him? He thought he was the only one…

  “I know you are hurting, struggling. Take it at a pace that you’re comfortable in…” Polnareff continued.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt them too,” Fugo mumbled.

  “I know. It’s not your fault. They care about you and you care about them. Cherish that, we don’t get a genuine bond like that often. We can look everywhere, but connections, the one that really cares for us, don’t come by often,” Polnareff advised. “Slowly open yourself up, its not too late. It's never too late. It’s not dark ahead.”

  After that, Fugo returned Coco Jumbo back to Giorno’s office. He headed up towards the roof. The midnight breeze entangled in Giorno’s hair made him look majestic. His undone rolls swayed with the wind, a look of peace lingered on his face. Fugo admired the sight before him before sitting beside him. 

  “Its a solar eclipse today,” Giorno explained. “The sun, moon and earth are aligned.”   “Yes, they are,” Fugo agreed. 

  Giorno turned to look at Fugo, a gentle smile plastered upon his face. “Look at the stars, blinking upon us.”

  Fugo remained unaware to Giorno’s gaze, his eyes on the night sky above him. “Yup, shining so brightly today.”

  There might be more towards their words, who knows? Perhaps only they know the secret code they speak in, what the words meant. 

  But it was enough to motivate Fugo. 

  He can’t let the past tie him down. He might never last if it continues. Polnareff had a point when he said that Fugo had to move slowly. He remembered the scene of the wind breezing through Giorno’s hair. He remembered Mista spitting his food by the lunch table. He remembered Trish laughing at Mista. He remembered his missions with Sheila E. 

  So many more memories to make… 

  Maybe he does have things to live for.

  He was going to have to let go, and he knew just how and where to begin. 

[moon-lv3r]

been awhile dw im alive

[moon-lv3r]

whenever giorno lets his hair down, he looks like fugo ~

🦋 category: scenario

🦋 characters: giorno, bucciarati, abbacchio, mista, narancia, fugo, trish

🦋 summary: in which whenever giorno lets his hair down, he looks like fugo. sometimes the members of bucciarati’s gang gets them mixed up

🦋 warnings: bunch of sillies and everyone lives !! trish is part of the gang idc what anyone says

🦋 notes: i love this headcanon of mine, it’s so cute

giorno giovanna ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

🐞 literally does not realise

🐞 woke up one morning and was too lazy to do his little donuts and let them fly

🐞 bucciarati saw him and greeted him as fugo so giorno turned around and saw a sleepy mista, who also greeted him as fugo

🐞 hm weird

🐞 even abbacchio’s weirdly nicer to him

🐞it didn’t take long for him to realise what’s happening

🐞it’s giorno of course he figured it out

🐞he was going to call them all out but he simply didn’t have the chance to

🐞”oi fugo, pass me that snack” “oi fugo, look at this document, you know a lot about crime right?” “oi fugo help me with this equation!” “fugo let’s watch a slasher film!” “fugo do you mind following me to buy some new clothes?”

🐞being fugo feels like being a slave

🐞he keeps trying to say something but noooo not a chance golden boy

🐞 let’s see how the members of the gang realise that giorno isn’t fugo

bruno bucciarati ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

🤐 he’s abit confused on why ‘fugo’ suddenly dressed differently when he asked for him to look at some documents

🤐 “fugo, i think you look great with this new style”

🤐 “uh thanks bucciarati”

🤐 too focused on work to tell that he mixed them up

🤐 it wasn’t until he realised that giorno was nowhere to be found that he started to be suspicious

🤐 order of the members waking up: abbacchio, bucciarati, giorno, trish, fugo, mista, narancia (afternoon)

🤐 “eh where is giorno i need something…”

🤐 “bucciarati i am giorno”

🤐 poor bucciarati, he thought it was a stand attack, mixing everybody up. until he saw giorno’s eyes and realised it’s different

🤐 “apologies for mixing you up with fugo… it’s the hair. but you still did a decent job in helping me with the documents, i’ll get fugo to check them later”

trish una ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

✖️she knew right away

✖️look she’s a girl

✖️have we not seen the stockings and makeup she had narancia buy? of course she knew

✖️”fugo has a different shade of blonde”

✖️giorno is glad that there is one person that he doesn’t need to explain himself to

✖️”the both of you are very different. fugo uses strawberry scents, you don’t. the hair length is different too. your hair is also brighter compared to fugo”

✖️trish does agree that they look similar with the hair

✖️ then she dragged giorno to do some shopping with her and returned somewhere in the afternoon

✖️they bought food and other necessities, alongside random items some of the other members needed

✖️however giorno’s arms are now covered in eyeshadow, lip gloss, lipsticks and other makeup products

pannacotta fugo ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

🍓”what the fuck?!” when he saw giorno

🍓 he had just finished looking through the documents that bucciarati showed him

🍓 he kept thinking if it’s a stand attack

🍓 it wasn’t so he continued staring at giorno

🍓 “bucciarati… do i have a long lost twin?”

🍓 “no”

🍓 bucciarati decided not to say anything and let fugo figure out all on his own

🍓 fugo decided to confront giorno but he didn’t know that it was giorno that he was confronting

🍓”oi is this some kind of joke?!” he grabbed giorno’s shoulders and roughly spun him around

🍓”oh.”

🍓yeah he realised after spinning giorno around

🍓 he apologised. a lot

leone abbacchio ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

🍷he actually doesn’t care enough to differentiate between them

🍷 he thought it was weird that there were two fugos but figured it out

🍷 didn’t want to pay attention to the differences they had though

🍷”oi fugo come here” and the person he dragged is giorno

🍷”giorno! get your ass here” and it’s fugo

🍷he’s nicer to giorno when he thought that giorno was fugo

🍷fugo is honestly fed up with being treated like shit while giorno doesn’t really mind

🍷even the strawberry scent that fugo wears did little to help

🍷”wearing fugo’s stupid scents now i see” to fugo, thinking it’s giorno

🍷 yes abbacchio is not a fan of sweet scents

🍷bucciarati had to tell him but does he care who is who? no he still mixes them up, on purpose now

🍷 abbacchio noticed some of the makeup on giorno’s arm, asked about it and decided to buy them the first chance he gets

🍷 he just took the opportunity to kinda make them do his work

guido mista ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

🔫 well well well… he could not tell the difference at all

🔫 “fugo where is your sweet scent?” when he’s talking to giorno

🔫 “where is giorno” he asks giorno, who he thought was fugo

🔫 fugo somehow hasn’t lost his temper

🔫 giorno and fugo just looked at each other in disappointment

🔫 it didn’t help that abbacchio mixes them up too so there’s just two grown men mixing up fugo and giorno

🔫 trish decided to mess with mista and join in

🔫 bucciarati is busy doing his mafia boss stuff to engage

🔫 poor mista is just getting confused every 10 seconds

🔫 trish is loving this too, just constantly messing around with mista

🔫 he only realised what’s going on when trish absolutely lost her shit and started laughing

🔫 trish and mista decided to mess with narancia, much to fugo and giorno’s dismay

🔫 giorno is secretly enjoying it while fugo just wants to get on with his day

narancia ghirga ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

🍊 the above is his exact reaction to the scene before him

🍊 trish and mista used makeup and contact lenses to make fugo and giorno look the exact same, except for the hair

🍊 fugo was protesting of course

🍊 “no you will not! my eyes! what are these?!” he screams as mista puts in contacts for him. trish is gentle with giorno

🍊 narancia rubbed his eyes, there’s two fugo’s in front of him

🍊”aha that’s fugo’s brother! nice to meet you i’m narancia!”

🍊 mista and trish lost their shit. giorno giggled and fugo sighed

🍊”yes… my long lost brother…” fugo played along

🍊 narancia kept asking ‘fugo’s brother’ about their childhood together. the brother is a year younger than fugo, just like giorno

🍊 mista shouted for abbacchio and bucciarati to come over and watch what was happening

🍊 bucciarati was amused, abbacchio thought it was abit stupid but egged it on anyway

🍊 “don’t you think fugo’s brother is as stupid looking as giorno?” abbacchio added

🍊”now that you mentioned it, i see it! fugo you should have your brother meet giorno! eh where is giorno?” narancia is just getting played at this point

🍊this is basically free entrainment

🍊 it only ended when bucciarati spoke to giorno, like he’s giorno because he needed giorno for something

🍊 “wait… that’s giorno..? MISTA!”

[moon-lv3r]

why did i post while drunk 💀

[moon-lv3r]

demon slayer:

- one shots

- scenarios

- ships/others

i will hunt you down in every universe (obamitsu)

[moon-lv3r]

i will hunt you down in every universe °.*ೃ✧˚.

🦋 category: angst, modern!au

🦋 characters: obanai, mitsuri, shinobu, kanae, sanemi, rengoku, giyu, gyomei, mentioned muichiro and yuichiro

🦋 summary: in which obanai and mitsuri get married, but mitsuri dies and obanai has to learn how to cope with it

🦋 warnings: cancer lol

🦋 notes: i’m gonna regret finishing this and publishing while drunk WOOOOOOOHOOOOOO I LOVE ALCOHOL ANYWAYS LEMME COPY ANS PASTE GHE ACTUAL AUTHOR’S NOTE IN MH DOCUMENTS YEEEHEHEHEHEHEHE

Author’s note: everything about cancer here and the symptoms. All medical informations are from google pls take it with a pinch of salt i’m not a medical student 🙏

He had never been happier.

The bright smile of the woman before him was the driving force of his life. He had to be the luckiest man alive.

“Mitsuri,” Obanai uttered one night as they were drifting off to sleep. “I am glad we’re together in this life.”

Mitsuri grinned, despite the dark, he could see how beautiful her smile was. The brightest ever.

“Obanai! You’re too sweet! I love you,” she replied, pulling him into a warm cuddle.

“I love you too, Kanroji Mitsuri,” he whispered into her ears as he held her close to him.

He would never let her go.

They were soulmates in every universe.

She was the only woman for him.

Only she fits him.

He will never forget how they met in school. She had her books scattered all over the place, being a new transfer student, she had no friends. It was Obanai who helped her arrange everything. She did not realise Obanai’s struggles at the time, nor did she realise that she was the biggest help.

He was the happiest when she was around.

Many saw how their love prevailed. How they got through struggles together. They were the couple everyone admired.

They were ideal in everyone’s mind.

The absolute perfection.

Obanai will never forget their first anniversary as a married couple. Mitsuri decided to prepare a huge feast. Obanai had never been one to eat much, given how he was shorter than Mitsuri, but for her, he would eat anything.

“Obanai! You’re home!” She happily chanted as she heard the door open.

“What are you cooking?” Obanai asked, smelling the aroma from the opposite side of the house as he closed the door.

“You will see!” Mitsuri sang. “I know you will love it!”

Obanai laughed, “I love everything you make, my dear Mitsuri.”

It was true. He’d never lie to her. He genuinely loved everything she made with his heart. As far as he was concerned, she was the only woman for him.

Mitsuri had cooked up a large buffet. It was extravagant. Seafood, beef, hot pot… Where did she even find the energy? He just knew that it was going to be an amazing meal.

“What's the occasion?” Obanai decided to ask.

Mitsuri grinned, “Nothing! Just wanted to make something for you. You never had hot pot right?”

That fact was true. Obanai never had hot pot ever in his life, His family was not one for the fancy. They were poor, with many mouths to feed. They hated Obanai too. His eyes were seen as a curse, a bad omen for their already unfortunate circumstances. They were already seen as outcasts of society for being broke, having a child with two different eye colours would only make it worse for them. Obanai never had proper love as a child, let alone hot pot.

Mitsuri knew that of course, maybe that was why she decided to cook up something amazing for him. She really did care about him,

At their wedding, barely anyone from Obanai’s side showed up. Rengoku Kyojuro and his family were the ones who showed up. Kyojuro’s father, Rengoku Shinjuro, was the one who saved Obanai from his family. He was the one who noticed the abuse and decided to take Obanai away and placed him into foster care. But Japan’s foster care wasn’t exactly the best, so Rengoku Shinjuro eventually took Obanai with him. Kyojuro and Obanai have remained close ever since. Obanai also met Shinazugawa Sanemi, Uzui Tengen and Himejima Gyomei at school and befriended them, becoming extremely close with Sanemi. Shinjuro also took in a pair of twins, Tokito Muichiro and Yuichiro, orphaned after their parents death. It was a huge house.

Obanai met Mitsuri through Sanemi as well. Sanemi was friends with the older Kocho sister, Kocho Kanae. Sometimes Obanai would follow Sanemi as he talked to the sisters. Mitsuri was extremely close with Kocho Shinobu, the younger Kocho who was known for her brains. Mitsuri often followed the sisters around so it was no surprise that Obanai met Mitsuri this way and eventually got to know each other. Sometimes, they would all hang out as a group, which also included a boy named Tomioka Giyu, a close friend of Shinobu. Obanai and Sanemi did not enjoy his presence as much.

Obanai mentioned how lucky he was to have met Mitsuri, but he did not account for a drunk Sanemi to whine about how Obanai should have mentioned that he would never have met Mitsuri if it wasn’t for his relations with the Kocho sisters, Uzui Tengen filmed the entire thing and used it as blackmail for awhile.

It was one of Obanai’s favourite days ever.

A day that he would never forget. The list of days that remained unforgettable increased as he continued spending more days with Mitsuri. The joy of being around her filled him up with joy.

It was just unfortunate that they did not have much of that time left. Mitsuri was hanging out with Shinobu on that fateful day. Shinobu had graduated and made it as a doctor. It was her first week on the job as an intern. The hospital was going to hire Shinobu officially after her internship ended. Mitsuri thought that it was a perfect time to get a checkup while seeing how her dear friend worked.

That was how she found out that she had stage 4 pancreatic cancer. Mitsuri had been having stomach pain for a long time but always assumed it to be due to her eating habits. She always dismissed her symptoms as something else. Like the yellowing of some parts of her skin, she always assumed it to be a vitamin B12 deficiency.

“It’s one of the cancers with the lowest 5 year survival rates,” said Shinobu as she read the result with Mitsuri. They were having lunch together when they read the report.

“B-but there's always a chance right?” Mitsuri asked. Shinobu nodded.

“How are you going to tell Iguro?” Shinobu asked, watching as Mitsuri put down her chopsticks. Who would have the appetite to eat after such an information?

“I-I… don’t know,” Mitsuri kept her head down, her voice trembling. She did not know what to say or even do. She was spending the rest of her life with him, but who was he going to spend the rest of his life with?

If only she took her symptoms more seriously… Maybe then her chances would be higher. How long did she have left? How long could she hide this from Obanai?

That day when she returned home, she was greeted with a feast on the table. It was not much. There was a pile of messily made and horribly arranged sakura mochi on Mitsuri’s favourite plate. There was also zaru udon by the side.

“Mitsuri,” Obanai smiled. “I did my best. You’ve always been the better cook.”

Obanai’s eyes narrowed, before twisting into a frown. “Did something happen Mitsuri? What’s wrong?”

Of course Obanai would be able to realise that something was up with her. There was no way of hiding it. “You can tell me anything Mitsuri, take your time. It’s alright, I am always here to listen,” he said.

He always wanted Mitsuri to feel the safest and happiest whenever she was around him. Sure he was shorter and physically weaker but he will still do whatever it takes to protect the taller muscle woman before him.

“I… I…,” Mitsuri was at a loss for words. She knew what she wanted to say, but the words did not want to leave her mouth.

Obanai simply pulled Mitsuri into a hug, which triggered an endless stream of tears and apologies. “I have stage 4 pancreatic cancer…” She finally revealed.

Obanai froze.

Stage 4… Pancreatic cancer.

Like… the cancer that kills people.

The one where the chances of survival were one of the lowest?

Mitsuri… has it?

He knew she wasn’t joking, she would never. The look on her face told him all there was to know. He did the only thing he knew to do. He held her in a tight embrace, feeling powerless as she sobbed into his shoulders. How could he just watch her suffer just like that? All he could do was provide money for treatment.

They always wanted children, but wanted to be more financially stable before having a few. They have been saving up, but it seems that those savings have other purposes now. Obanai and Mitsuri ran a restaurant together, he was going to have to run it alone now while Mitsuri took care of herself.

They will get through this.

Obanai shaved his own head and gifted his hair to Mitsuri. He didn’t even tell her of the plan, he knew that only Shinobu knew of the diagnosis so he approached her for assistance. Whenever Obanai could not follow Mitsuri to her chemotherapy or check up, Shinobu would take his place. He was grateful for the young intern helping them out. He knew how close the ladies were and how important they were to each other. He was glad that Mitsuri had reliable pillars of support.

What more could he ask for?

Eventually, everyone else did find out of Mitsuri’s condition and did what little they could to help. Kyojuro often stopped by to help the restaurant. Tengen got more people to eat at the restaurant. Muichiro and Yuichiro often stopped by with Senjuro, Kyojuro’s younger brother, after school to do their school work. Gyomei took the children at the daycare he worked at to the restaurant for lunch whenever it was possible. Sanemi and Giyu showed up the least however, only showing up to eat because ‘there were no other places’. Sometimes Sanemi would help with the dishes, only because Kyojuro made him. The Kocho sisters often showed up with their own colleagues for lunch or dinner as well.

It did help with the finance and the manpower. Mitsuri’s bills kept piling up that it would’ve been impossible to keep up if it wasn’t for the savings and how their friends have been helping out.

Obanai kept every money-related issue away from Mitsuri, not wanting her to worry. She had enough to think about. He just wanted her to recover in peace.

Mitsuri was looking sicker as time passed by. It didn’t matter to Obanai however, he took care of every need she had. It was what he was supposed to do, to be there for her no matter the circumstances.

One night, Mitsuri was laying in their bed, exhausted from her weak body. She looked at how much weight Obanai has lost from doing all of the chores ever since her diagnosis. It was only then that she realised how he even starved himself on occasions just to save the money and spend it all on her. He sacrificed so much for her, yet she could do nothing to help him. She watched as the man she love gave everything he could to watch her be healthy, she could do nothing about it. The feeling of being a burden overwhelmed her and before she knew it, she was crying. Sobbing like a child who lost her favourite barbie.

“Mitsuri!” Obanai rushed over the moment he heard her sobs, his hands gently wiped the tears off her face as he held her in a warm embrace. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just…” Mitsuri cried. “I don’t want to see you suffer because of me. You’re doing so much for me but I…”

Obanai shushed Mitsuri before she could even finish.

“Mitsuri, I’m your husband. It’s the least I could do,” he replied. “You helped me change as a person when we met. Let me help you.”

For some reason, Mitsuri only cried harder, her hands gripped on the back of his shirt.

“I don’t deserve you!” She cried again. “When I get better, I promise I will be a better wife!”

Obanai gently stroked the back of her head, “You’re already the wife I want. I love you Mitsuri. Promise me that you’ll be healthy and that’s all that matters.”

It was a promise Mitsuri was eager to honour. A promise that she was willing to do whatever it takes to achieve. Her condition however… It never seemed to be on her side.

Everyone watched as she grew skinnier and weaker. She barely has the energy anymore. She tried to smile and act like her usual self, but there’s only so much a bedridden person could do. She was fooling nobody. Obanai tried to maintain a false sense of enthusiasm to encourage Mitsuri but deep down, he was falling apart.

Secretly late at night, he’d drink with Tengen sometimes. Obanai was beginning to feel a sense of inferiority, that what he was doing wasn’t enough. He’d cry over how tired he was but he was willing to push through no matter what. How he was willing to wait for Mitsuri to be healthy again but nothing seemed to be working.

“I… I… I…,” Obanai slurred as he had too much to drink. “Just wanna see her happy… again.”

Tengen could do nothing except stopping his friend from drinking himself to an early death. “It’s not flashy to be dead drunk,” he said. “Mitsuri will get better soon, just trust me on this buddy.”

Everyone kept saying the same thing, only because it was the only sensible thing to say. It didn’t take long for Mitsuri to be confined to the hospital bed where her condition kept worsening. Everyone still held hope. Anything can happen as long as she was still alive.

The chances might be low but never zero. It was the only thing keeping Obanai from losing his mind. Just forcing himself to accept that things will work out, so that he could feel that small bit of comfort.

He made an effort to visit her as often as he could. He would often bring food and feed Mitsuri. This has been his routine for a year. It has been a year since Mitsuri was diagnosed, she had only been declining. She stopped wearing the wig ever since she was hospitalised. Obanai was skinned as well, looking as malnourished as he used to be. Mitsuri tried convincing him to take care of himself but he assured her that he was.

He was skipping his meals. Kyojuro had to force him to eat sometimes, but whenever Obanai refused, Kyojuro finished the food for him. Tengen’s wives cooked up delicious meals too, but Obanai never finished them. At least Obanai was still eating… Sanemi occasionally came by to visit Obanai and help him out with some chores, the house has been a mess ever since Mitsuri’s hospitalisation.

Some of them seemed to think that Obanai might collapse before Mitsuri.

“Mitsuri…” Obanai mumbled. It was yet another hospital visit. “I brought your favourite! Sakura mochi.”

He tried to sound excited but the dark circles under his eyes told the story that Mitsuri needed to know. She sighed.

“How are you not tired of this!” She cried. “Did you stay up all night! Obanai! I love you but…”

Obanai shook his head. “I… can do this…”

“Obanai… Don’t forget to take care of yourself! Please!” She continued crying as she took a bite. “Who’s gonna take care of you?”

Obanai smiled, “You will. You will recover and take care of me.”

Mitsuri took another mochi, “Obanai… I don’t think I deserve you… maybe in another life… Where I am healthier… we could have the kids we always wanted.”

Obanai squeezed her hand. “We can always have them in this life.”

Mitsuri finished her mochi and smiled. “I sure… hope so.” She took a deep breath.

“I know we will,” he answered.

The truth remains to be seen. Nobody has any clue about the future, but one can always remain hopeful. Or delusional? It remains to be seen. But anyway, Obanai continued visiting Mitsuri as the days passed. He watched as she breathed, his hair on her scalp.

It was so weird seeing Mitsuri with black hair. It felt like a lie. She looks better in green and pink. She would look better in his arms though, and not in the damn hospital bed fighting for her life.

Well, he was sure that he could bring her home anyway. He knew that she could tug it out. Like come on it’s Mitsuri. Of course she’d survive.

Except she didn’t.

One fine day as the sun was shining down on the green grass below the cloudy clouds. Obanai happily made his way to the hospital. Hippity hoppity hopped his way into Mitsuri’s room, only to see her monitor and how her heartbeat was irregular.

“DOCTORRR!!!” He screeched.

A bunch of people dressed in white came. They tried to save her but guess what. She flatlined. How unfortunate.

Obanai cried.

What was he supposed to do without his little pink thing now? They quite literally planned a life around each other. Of course it had to go wrong… how lame…

Well Obanai has an idea on how to cope!

He planned her funeral and his coping mechanism at the same time. Multitasker. A talent indeed. What was he planning?

Well wait and find out!

[moon-lv3r]

bro i’m gonna shit myself i’m a professional deadline chaser

[moon-lv3r]

just a little psa post about me

in my bio, it says that i’m bi, but irl i tell people that i have no labels on my sexuality but to make things simple online bc im too lazy to yap on my bio, i just put bi

yes i do like both men and women, and i used to identify as bi a few years back. but as i got older, i started to not really like labelling myself and there’s still parts of me that im confused about. to keep it short, yeah im unlabeled because labels make me uncomfortable but choose to put a label online because im too lazy to explain a bunch of stuff on my bio, hence why i made this post

[moon-lv3r]

it’s 4am, i can’t sleep so i thought i would recreate a video i made years back but with another fandom trio

[moon-lv3r]

for our love to bloom °.*ೃ✧˚.

🦋 category: fluff, flower shop au, no jujutsu au, aged up characters

🦋 characters: miwa, mechamaru (referred as muta), mai, momo, todo, kamo

🦋 summary: in which a high school reunion brought two people back for a second shot at sparking a relationship

🦋 warnings: tooth rotting romance, why do i keep writing those??

🦋 notes: they deserved better so i wrote this. i love flowers

Miwa Kasumi was a humble woman, her small flower shop was all she needed. All she led was a peaceful life. Her flower shop was a way for her to help her family ease their monetary issues ever since she gave up on her chance of going to a University.

She was going to do all she could to help out.

The doorbell rang as the door opened to reveal another customer of the day. It was Zen’in Mai, one of her friends from the highschool she went to. Mai and her older twin sister, Maki, were famous throughout their school back then.

“Mai!” Miwa cheerfully greeted her dear friend.

The way Mai was dressed, it was obvious that she was out on a date. The black, tight, sleeveless dress was perfect on her.

“Just thought I’d stop by,” smiled Mai as she placed her crossed arms on the counter, bending down as she talked to Miwa. “How’s business?”

“You know, nothing much really,” Miwa replied.

“Maki and I can always help you promote,” Mai suggested. “Or we could ask Nishimiya to help. Just not Kamo, and especially Todo. I am so glad I don’t see them anymore.”

Miwa let out a soft laughter as she heard Mai’s complaints, “I still remember when you used to complain about every single boy in our class.”

Mai could only sigh in return as memories of their former class came flooding back into her mind. “They are all weird,” Mai replied. “Muta, Todo, Kamo, all weird. I still don’t know why I went with Todo to that Takada meeting…”

“But you did say the meeting wasn’t so bad,” Miwa added. Mai responded with a small nod as Miwa technically wasn’t lying. Mai did find the meeting to be better than what she had initially thought.

“But it is also Todo we’re talking about,” Mai explained.

Miwa laughed as Mai continued to rant about things that happened throughout their school years. Those days seemed so… distant yet also so close. It felt like it had never ever been over. Sometimes it just felt as though they were once again teenagers chatting their lives away while eating, not having to worry about putting a roof over their heads. Sometimes it just seemed so unbelievable that this was what adulthood had introduced them to. Worries after worries.

But Miwa braced those struggles. She was a hard worker. It was important to get through tough times, was it not? She was still helping her own family out, and running her business gave her such a peace of mind. She loved being around her flowers. The beauty of it all seemed to intrigue her to no end. She loved the different meanings each flower had. She loved how different colours represented different things as well. There was just so much to learn.

“Also,” Mai continued. “We’re having a class reunion soon. Nishimiya and I are planning on shopping for dresses, wanna join?”

Miwa smiled and gave her dear friend a small nod. Of course Miwa couldn’t say no. How could she? She enjoyed being with the girls of her former class. They all had a close bond with each other. Miwa often heard Momo and Mai talk smack about the boys in their school, it was almost a daily thing. Suddenly she missed those days where they were teenagers with no worries.

Miwa had missed those old days when they were all so carefree.

Now she had a new worry. Finding the right outfit for their reunion dinner.

She managed to get a dress that she really liked. A knee length blue dress with a thin strap. It was layered really well and seemed to have some volume to it. Both Momo and Mai encouraged Miwa to get her hands on it, so she did.

Now she just had to wait until the day of the reunion to see what everyone was wearing. She was curious about how much they changed. She hadn’t seen most of them ever since graduation. She wondered how Muta Kokichi was doing. They never talked much but she always had her eyes on him. There was something about him that drew her towards him.

It was another normal day at her flower shop. Another day of guiding customers to which flowers they should purchase, talking about the story and meaning behind each and every floral. Every petal was important.

She enjoyed her job. It was simple, just the perfect job for her. She wouldn’t trade it for the world. Being around her flowers and seeing people walking out with joy was enough for the young woman. She was still making enough to support herself and her family, that was all she needed.

Miwa Kasumi was a simple girl. That was all that she was.

A simple girl craves simple things, never will she expect much. Low expectations that get fulfilled easily, sounds like such a dream, doesn’t it?

The night of the reunion approached, Miwa felt nervousness building up in her body as she put on the dress. People she hasn’t seen in ages… she was afraid. How different would everyone be? Who would remain the same?

Those thoughts seemed to scare her. Maybe it was the answers that freaked her out. Who would change for the better and who would change for the worse?

Todo seemed to remain the same. He was still as buff as ever, his scar remained equally noticeable as it was in the past.

Kamo had a different hairstyle. It was chopped a lot shorter, the complete opposite of what he used to have.

Muta Kokichi however, looked different. His hair was let down now, no longer in the high ponytail it used to be in. He had glasses as well. He was unrecognisable from his school days.

“Of course Todo never changed,” Mai scoffed. “Pineapple head. Bet he is still into that idol.”

Miwa seemed to only have her attention on Muta. He seemed so different. What caused his change?

The classmates gathered for a talk. Their respective careers, romantic life, anything that they could talk about. Muta seemed interested in Miwa’s new life as a florist.

Mai and Todo seemed to somewhat clash, as usual. Kamo was more talkative than usual, mentioning how he and his mother were moving to a more luxurious home. Kamo worked hard to provide for his mother and to thank her for all that she helped with in his life.

Momo talked about potentially moving overseas, to America. That was where her father was from and she might be moving back due to family reasons. Mai was talking about how she met a new girl recently, which started up a fight with Todo because he did not believe Mai’s claims of a girl prettier than his idol existing.

It seems as though some things just remained the same. As the reunion ended, everyone parted ways. Promises to meet up and chat again were made, though none knew when it would be.

“Can I drive you home?” Muta asked, standing shyly beside Miwa.

She gladly nodded and accepted his offer, handing her address over. The ride back home was somewhat quiet. Muta wanted a conversation, but he did not know how to start one.

He ended up asking about her flower business and where it was. Miwa gladly gave the location to him. He said that he would visit, only to realise that he did not have much to do at a flower shop. He did not need flowers.

At least he found out that Miwa was single. That was good enough for him.

He had liked her ever since their school days, but never had the courage to ask her out. Now that the opportunity seemed to have risen, he was thinking about taking it. He had feared rejection. He still does.

He ended up dropping Miwa off without asking her on a date. Stupid.

Utterly stupid.

The chance was right in front of him and he just blew it like that. He didn’t even manage to get her damn number.

What was the point in starting a business and selling various different types of puppets when he can’t even man up and have a normal conversation with the girl he liked?

At least he knew where she worked…

A flower shop.

Don't girls like flowers? Since Miwa worked at one, surely she knew what different flowers symbolise right? With that thought in mind, he drove home and turned on his laptop after showering.

He decided to settle on pink lilies. It allegedly symbolises femininity and admiration. He did admire Miwa, so he felt as though it was the perfect flower for him to use.

It was simple. But from his knowledge, Miwa was a simple person. He can give her the more grand things next time, he just wanted to be let in her heart.

Now he just needed to mentally prepare himself to ask out the woman. The one thing that never changed about him was how he’d never ask her out.

The chances of hearing a no haunted him.

It took him at least two weeks to drive in front of her shop, and another week to muster the courage to enter. He was pathetic wasn’t he?

“Muta?” Miwa greeted, a little surprised by his sudden appearance. “What brings you here?”

Muta rubbed the back of his neck, looking around nervously. “Uh I need a flower… bouquet…”

Miwa giggled, “Who’s the lucky one?” She asked. “What flowers do you need?”

Muta went silent. Awkwardness filled the room as nervousness took over him. Why was he like this? All he had to do was just ask her out. A simple task. One which he had procrastinated for years. He was over complicating things.

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

“Pink lilies,” Muta managed to mutter.

Miwa gladly got to work as she started making the bouquet. It was either now or never. He had to ask her now.

Yet he had the guts of a paper bag. He just simply could not. He had not realised how lucky he was to be granted an opportunity like this. He would be a genuine moron if he just let it go out the window.

When Miwa handed the bouquet over to Muta, he decided that it was now or never. He was as awkward as hell.

“It’s uh… for you… Miwa,” he uttered, barely maintaining his eye contact.

She was confused at first, before eventually getting the hint. “Are you asking me out?” She asked, a hint of excitement that was almost undetectable in her voice.

Muta could only give her a small nod.

And it was set.

A cafe date. On a weekend. Muta would be picking her up. It was going to be on a Saturday afternoon. He was nervous. He hadn’t expected it to go this well.

When the actual date arrived, Muta did his best to style himself in a normal way. His hair was tied up. A large shirt and long pants, with a nice belt. That should be good enough.

When he drove up to Miwa’s apartment to fetch her. He was greeted by a simple, yet breathtaking sight.

Miwa’s blue hair flowed alongside the wind. Her white dress swayed gracefully among the gentle wind. Her light makeup look paired perfectly with her outfit. She carried with her a small shoulder bag.

It was so simple, he loved it with all his heart.

He did everything that a gentleman should do. Held the door, let her sit, paid for the meal despite her saying not to. He did it all.

They decided to go for a walk. It was a simple stroll recall. The only hard part was trying to hold Miwa’s hand. Their fingers constantly brushed past each other as they walked and made small talk.

Muta could not bring himself to even glance at her. He was too shy. The soft breeze brushed their faces gently. The sunshine resting upon their faces gracefully. It was a peaceful day. Muta’s mind was not peaceful.

“Look at the birds!” Miwa chanted happily as she pointed at some away in a distance.

“Hah… yeah,” Muta responded, looking at what she was pointing at.

Muta decided to take a deep breath. “Miwa…” He began. The smiling girl turned to look at him, making him speechless, once again.

“Look I… I am serious about wanting us to be together… If you know what I mean…” Muta stammered, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks heated up.

Miwa nodded, getting the drift. “I’d like the same thing. Let’s take it slow, shall we?”

Muta immediately looked up, his eyes glistening with hope. He had never nodded so quickly in his life before. He was glad that she agreed.

Holding her hand as the date went on. Small steps, one by one. Taking it a day at a time. What could be better than this?

[moon-lv3r]

my blood is on my hands °.*ೃ✧˚.

🦋 category: angst, hurt/comfort

🦋 characters: fugo, giorno, trish, mista, mentioned sheila e, narancia, bucciarati

🦋 summary: in which fugo finally begins to slowly heal and move on from his past, with the help of his surviving comrades. but as he would soon learn, nothing is ever easy. maybe he should just give up?

part 1 - acceptance

part 2 - relapse

part 3 - denial

part 4 - healing

🦋 warnings: implied SA, suicide, suicidal thoughts, self harm

🦋 notes: i am feeling a lot better mentally but i will still see the story to its end and make fugo suffer similar to what i suffered 😈 its my creative and i choose to torture my favourite character of the day

Fugo felt violated by words. Suddenly, he returned to being a child. His personal space violated.

Suddenly, it was like he returned to those days. His professor’s hands all over his small body. All over the places it should not be. Fugo felt dirty. Like it was all his fault.

Now, the man was smiling before him. As if nothing of the sort had ever transpired between them. All Fugo could feel was disgust.

His body felt dirty.

The professor was engaging in a normal conversation as though nothing had happened. In fact, he was trying to invite Fugo back to his place, to catch up. Horrible. Fugo’s fingers began to tremble. His breathing grew ragged. The world felt as though it was spinning.

He could hear his heartbeat. It was loud. He could not stand it. What was wrong with him?

Words failed to leave his mouth. His mind failed to work.

He could do nothing.

He could do nothing as his fingers trembled, carrying the plastic bags of snacks. He could do nothing as sweat beads formed on his forehead, dripping down his frozen expression.

All he could do was shake. Trembling as his body remains unmoving.

The next thing he knew, the professor was dragging him by the arm. He was trying to get Fugo to some place, to do god knows what. It was like a repeat of the past again.

Fugo did the only thing he knew. His fist connected to the cheek of his former professor. It wasn’t enough, so Fugo got ready for another attack. His eyes saw blood, so he hadn’t realised that he summoned Purple Haze.

He was so badly triggered, blinded by anger, the anxiety he was feeling earlier replaced by a tsunami of rage. He was ready to end the professor.

Why did he have to be the victim over and over? Why did he have to be touched? Why did he have to be violated? Why did he have to be used? Why did he have to be molested?

Why did it have to be him?

What had he done to deserve it all?

Purple Haze was close to losing control of itself.

Fugo was slowly losing his mind.

All of the self control he had practised was soon fading away into nothing.

Soon, he would revert back to the violent little guy.

“Gold Experience!” The familiar and comforting voice sounded nonexistent to him. His eyes blind to the sight before him. The way Giorno punched the professor with his bare fists. Shouts were exchanged. Giorno gave no chance for the professor to fight back. Gold Experience held Purple Haze back. Giorno was the only one immune to Purple Haze’s toxins.

Fugo didn’t even realise that Giorno drove him home in Fugo’s car.

Mista’s enthusiasm was gone when he saw the blank expression on Fugo’s face. They were supposed to watch a movie. They were supposed to watch a slasher film.

It was supposed to be a fun and simple day. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Fugo was escorted back into his room for some alone time. Giorno filled in the others on what had happened. The protective rage that washed over Mista was no joke. Fugo was the final member of the original Passione team that Mista had left. Fugo was like his last surviving brother, he wasn’t going to let any man just ruin his little brother like that. Mista knew Fugo could defend himself, but Mista wanted to fight with him too.

Trish watched as Fugo’s shadow disappeared into his room, the sound of the door being slammed shut and locked. Why does nobody in Passione have a normal life? Sure being in the mafia at such a young age wasn’t normal, but surely someone had to have a normal reason.

They were all just teenagers trying to navigate their way through life. Yet they experienced crazier things that no normal adult would ever have to go through in their lifetime.

How many adults have been kicked out of home after being molested? How many adults have an absent parent? Or one that abused the living daylights out of them? How many adults grew up without a father only for the same man to kill them? Trish was lucky that she was saved in time.

How many unfortunate souls remain victims to their unlucky circumstances?

Her heart ached whenever thoughts like these flashed through her mind.

Giorno looked down on the floor with worry as he sat on the couch. The television screen captured all of their worried faces. Their reflections as clear as day. Mista grunted in frustration as he leaned back.

“Where is that man now?” Mista asked.

Giorno shrugged, “I wish I knew. I wanted to do more but… Fugo seemed to be struggling.”

“Do you think we should book another appointment for Fugo?” Trish asked.

Giorno shrugged once again, “I don’t want to force Fugo to do anything. He seems like he needs some time to himself.”

Suddenly, Mista got up. “Yeah we should just hunt down that bastard! Slaughter that pig! Fucking asshole!”

The Pistols seemed to share the same anger as Mista, as all six of them chanted in unison.

They were discussing what they wanted to do. Giorno was the only one who thought of what Fugo himself would want. Giorno will respect whatever decision Fugo came to. He wanted Fugo to get better, not spiralling somewhere no hand can ever reach.

Behind the locked door of Fugo’s room, was the figure of Pannacotta Fugo, laying down on the floor. His eyes glued to the ceiling. The only thoughts behind those eyes were memories.

He was being haunted.

Chased down.

Like a wanted criminal.

He wanted nothing.

But to be free.

Just a taste of freedom.

Free from his mind.

Trauma.

Feelings.

Suicidal thoughts.

He just wanted to be normal.

Live a decent life.

One that he could live with ease.

One he can live by serving Giorno and being with what was left of his former family. His Passione family.

Why did that have to be such a challenge?

Sometimes he forgot that he was just a teenage boy. He was just trying to live. Goddamn professor. Memories of every touch sent shivers down his spine. His body shuddered at every thought. Goosebumps appeared everywhere the more he thought about it. He felt as though he could see the handprints that his professor left behind.

Dirty, dirty boy.

He could never wash it off.

It was once a part of him.

Inside… it was…

He will never be free.

Dirty, filthy, disgusting boy.

Not a single part of his skin was clean. Everywhere was corrupted. Pannacotta Fugo was a corrupted boy. Inside and out. Mental and physical scars haunted him.

Of course he could never be free.

He had been lying to himself all along.

He wondered how would Bucciarati feel, seeing Fugo now. Pathetic. Fugo, pathetic.

Useless.

Pointless.

Stupid.

Dirty.

Corrupted.

Used.

Please just die…

Maybe he should… He was sure that Narancia would have been able to live a more fruitful life. One that was way happier than Fugo’s was. So why was he kept alive? Narancia would have served a purpose, he was not corrupted. Narancia was pure. Fugo was the opposite of everything that Narancia represented.

Fugo was Yin, Narancia was Yang.

That stupid orange… Fugo missed his joy. Fugo could never carry the same amount of joy with him ever since Narancia was gone. The place where laughter originated from had disappeared, how could Fugo ever feel the same amount of happiness? He missed the days when they had missions together and they would just shout and fight each other, and their enemies at the same time.

The old days.

Perhaps if Fugo had went… Narancia would be alive.

Death.

What a wonderfully morbid thing.

It does an amazing job at picking the wrong ones to go. There was so many people that deserved it more than those that it took.

Why not Fugo?

Why not him?

What did he do that made him less deserving of death?

Did death not want him as well?

Pathetic. He was indeed.

The ceiling seemed like it was chanting away at him… The ceiling… He looked away… He was laying down on his carpet… It was a new carpet, his previous one was gone because of the bloodstains.

His arms still had scars…

Of course… It was never too late for a new canvas. It will work out this time. He will paint his very own breathtaking artwork. His very own deadly piece.

He shall be the centre of it.

It was about him.

He just needed one thing. One sharp thing. So that he would get the paint out. It was a simple painting. A canva that would blow the minds of many.

A pointless story told in the form of death.

A tragedy transformed into a piece of colour for many pairs of eyes to view. To interpret.

The very first eyes to have the unfortunate luck of seeing him in his final state… He hoped that it would not be Giorno. He did not deserve to see such art.

Everything Fugo touched, Fugo ruined. He was now going to ruin himself. Self mutilation seemed so natural. So normal…

Hurt was all he knew. Pain was all that was taught to him. Of course he turned out this way, what was anyone expecting from him?

He had the blade in his hand… Scissors…

One hard slice down his wrist… blood came flowing out… His very first stroke. One stroke was not enough to make the perfect painting.

He needed more. Strokes after strokes. His energy felt drained. He was using so much strength for each strokes. Ensuring that it was deep enough, to really feel it. So that everyone can feel it. The meaning, the life, the reasoning. So that they can feel it down to their very core… Layering was needed too, so that people can feel it down to their core… He needed to get to his core as well.

To get the feelings all out. To show everyone just what it was that he felt deep down. To let everything spill out.

The feeling of being soaked in his own blood felt disgusting. He was disgusting. That’s why he was doing all of this.

His lifeless eyes watched as blood poured from his wrist and arm. He was going to do more… more…

He wondered if he could try and cut his own bone. The pain was enough for him to ignore. He just hoped that Mista would not be too upset about having to replace another carpet…

And a friend.

His hand slowly lost the energy to hold the sharp object, his eyes slowly closed. Was that the end of the road for him? It seems so.

Time slowly ticked by as the people downstairs remained unaware of the bloody scene that happened above them. It was going to be dinner time soon.

Trish decided to be the one to call Fugo for dinner. She never really talked much with him, but she still wanted to show that she at least did care. Maybe this could be the start of their friendship.

Sheila E had been away on a mission for awhile now, it was an overseas one. That made Trish the only girl for a while. Trish had heard things about Fugo from Sheila, some good, some bad. Trish still wanted to explore it for herself.

Slowly, she brought herself upstairs. Her soft hands gently twist the doorknob. The sound of the door creaking open was the least of her worries as she thought of how she was going to ask Giorno to hire someone to fix it.

The scene of Fugo laying in a pool of his own blood… His right arm was cut and bleeding. A wound so deep that she swore she could see bone. His wrist so violently slit like he had been attacked by a stranger. The smell of it attacked her nose as she froze. Her eyes fixated on the mess before her.

Before she let out a bloodcurdling scream, allowing for Giorno and Mista to also happen upon the scene.

Were they too late?

[moon-lv3r]

So this season was 6 episodes to the normal 10 episode count, which means the runtime was reduced by 4 episodes, and from my viewing we missed out on the following storylines/ plot resolutions

Here be spoilers

Luther searching for Sloane

An ACTUAL EXIT FOR RAY

Allison and Viktor actually making ammends with each other

A flashback to Reginald's original planet covering the creation of the particles and how their world ended

SOME FUCKING DAVE KATZ?!

just generally any sort of fight scenes. We got like...one

POGO? we got a second of him in a flashback, but just a cameo as the butler in the current Hargreeves house would have been nice

Five also having a realistic existance in this new timeline (everyone else has a realistically shitty life but he's a high ranking CIA member at age like 18?)

They establish Klaus has been sober for 3 years (the time skip being 6 years) and clearly it's alluded to that Claire saw some of his antics when he was still using (her having been to the squat, her advising Allison drop him immediatly) but none of it is actually shown or elaborated on, or even alluded to until he grabs the TV, so it made Claire's change in attitude towards him come out of nowhere?

IS RAY CLAIRE'S DAD IN THIS WORLD OR NOT?! WTF IS UP WITH RAY

A Klaus storyline that...actually related back to the larger plot would have been nice?

Any explination about why Jennifer was IN A FUCKING SQUID?

A reason why Jennifer was infected with the particle in the original timeline. Like...was it a doomsday cult there like it is here, whats up?

Any of the brellies other than Lila and Allison having to deal with new/old family members in this timeline. Lila had a massive family (that is never explained) and Allison had Claire (AND RAY, FOR FIVE FUCKING SECONDS), but none of the other brellies have family members they have to pretend they know? that would have been golden

An exploration into the whole 'now Vik's been through every woman in town' thing. They just dropped that and ran. like...does he have commitment issues? is he emotionally distant? is he too clingy? why have all these women dumped him. Thats a big potential character beat to introduce and then abandon

Like the core of the plot - the two particles mutating into something horrible, Reginald having to shoot Ben in the OG timeline to save the world, the Gene/Jean timeline doomsday cult, them fixing the story by allowing the particles to be consumed and erased- that worked. but NONE of the dressing around about the actual siblings did. Like they literally dump Luther and Diego into the CIA's basement because they couldn't find a use for them, it was so fucking weird.

[moon-lv3r]

As I’m trying to come to terms with whatever the fuck that was, I’ve decided that:

Seasons 1 and 2 are peak. Absolute masterpieces. Canon.

Season 3 can be taken or left. Has its moments, but overall not as good as the first two. Canon, but only if you want it to be.

Season 4 is a fucking crack fic written at 2am that the author rereads at a later date and decides to delete. Absolutely not canon.

[moon-lv3r]

love it when writers don’t even remember details from their own show

[moon-lv3r]

came back from the dead bc i’ve been seeing many ship discourse on my tiktok and it’s pissing me off. i’m not including proships in this post before you ask. these are all typed in one go at 2am im going to bed now

behold a yap session ahead

“oh you can’t ship this bc they interacted once”

“this ship makes no sense bc xx has a crush on xxx !!”

“not everyone is gay”

i need everyone on that stupid clock app to realise that once a piece of media is put out, EVERYONE, will have different interpretations of it. people can understand the original interpretation of the media but can still view it in a way unique to them.

not everyone will agree on the same thing. like example, some people hated the ending of attack on titan, while some loved it. some hated it because eren did all that work for nothing, some loved it because it shows that war is a never ending cycle. people can have different interpretations of any media and it’s ALRIGHT

and the same goes for ships !!!

shipping has been around for as long as fanfics. the purpose of writing fanfics is to show YOUR interpretation of the media. it’s to show how you view certain things. it’s to show what you think would happen if a certain event happened. you are in control of it. it’s YOUR creative freedom. that includes shipping

some people can see unexplored potential within certain ships that did not receive any interactions and that inspired them to write fanfics. it’s completely fine and you don’t have to ship it. just let people enjoy it. because it’s their creative freedom now. just because someone is writing something away from canon does not mean they are trying to erase the original meaning of things. some people ship delia (ash’s mom) and jessie from pokemon despite them never(?) meeting because of the potential. those two could have an interesting dynamic and especially with jessie’s history with ash. it’s supposed to be fun

this is also why even though i am not big on shipping, i still choose to write for ships that i personally don’t ship. because media is supposed to be fun, i am supposed to have fun with it. and writing, exploring dynamics, tapping into unused potential makes it fun for me. it’s supposed to be an experience that i enjoy

shipping is supposed to be fun and all jokes. it’s not meant to be taken seriously. forcing people to ship or not ship a certain ship is annoying. let people enjoy their silly little media however they want. let people explore certain ships and their symbolism however they want, it’s their media, it’s their circus. it’s not harming you

[moon-lv3r]

Hello everyone, today's post is serious and I don't think that I'll be able to come back to writing the things that I write anytime soon. Because, today, I don't even know if I'll be safe and sound in my own home. My country is turning into Israel and north korea. I need everyone's attention on what's happening in Bangladesh.

Please reblog this post. The pictures I've shown down below is from two days ago. Today it's worse. Tomorrow it's gonna be deadly.

I will post more about this situation.

[moon-lv3r]

hehe

꧁ 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝟑𝐰𝐛-𝐥𝐯𝟑𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 ꧂

- my name is ivy and this is my nsfw side blog. this will be where i post all of my smut and anything nsfw related. check tags to see which fandoms i write for. i would say mdni but i used to be a minor interacting with nsfw stuff. i'm just gonna say that i am not responsible for how you turn out. your actions, your consequences

- main blog: @moon-lv3r, no smut will be found there

- other side blogs:

↬ @str3wb-hee kpop side blog where i go crazy over idols (i do not write kpop fics)

- other sites to find me:

↬ ao3 - my ao3 account where you can even find my original works + series as my tumblr is strictly fandom only ! (here's the nsfw ao3 acc)

- feel free to send me anything in my ask box ! questions are all welcome with the exception of sexual questions. i don't want to air out my intimate stuff

- dm me if you want to be mutuals !

- requests: closed !

- what do i write:

↬ (legal) ships

↬ x readers

↬ wlw and straight smut

- what i will not write:

↬ smut with minors, not even aging them up

↬ proships

↬ mlm smut, for now

DNI IF:

lack basic human decency, what more do i have to say?

➷➷➷

- masterlist:

↬ jojo’s bizarre adventure:

↬ phantom blood

↬ battle tendency

↬ stardust crusaders

↬ diamond is unbreakable

↬ vento aureo/golden wind

↬ stone ocean

♡♡♡

↬ jujutsu kaisen

♡♡♡

↬ hell’s paradise/jigokuraku

♡♡♡

↬ chainsaw man

♡♡♡

↬ ultraman rising