#I am aware that this is not the ideal time to post this

[smilepaint]

anyway the concept of passing is a scam. we will never be liberated until the idea that a trans person's inherent value and worth and validity is directly proportional to their resemblance to a cis person. and i say this not just to those who struggle to or do not fit into that box, but to those who very much do and are counting themselves lucky.

the same way that its unhealthy and unreasonable to expect a same gender couple to conform to notions of what a heterosexual family should be, its unhealthy and unreasonable to have to expect a transgender experience of identity and a transgender body to conform to a cisgender ideal. not only does it further the marginalisation of trans people and drive a wedge in our community, but it's an unhealthy way to see the world and relate to yourself. its not fair to expect a human being to go their whole life in states of checking the value of their body and their life against a societally imposed, often unattainable model that may not even reflect their own desires or goals.

it's tough, i know how tough it is to go against everything you've been taught, and the right to seek medical intervention to reshape ourselves in a way that deepens and solidifies our connection to our bodies is and will always be important. but for your own mental health, whatever shape you take must reflect yourself first. not a cis persons. transition is about making a home out of the body you're living in, in whatever way works for you.

you deserve the mental freedom that comes with removing "passing" from your emotional radar entirely. trans bodies are good bodies.

[icewindandboringhorror]

finally settling once and for all... with the evidence laid out plainly.. which of these brother boys is more stinkys ,,,

[cyberphuck]

I'm so glad that I can draw all the stupid scenes in my head instead of just thinking about them

[thecherrygod]

Oh i do yearn for things i thought i didn't yearn for at all huh

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)

synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)

— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)

— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333

the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good. 

you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left. 

and then satoru wins. 

you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead. 

whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure. 

and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware. 

for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.

it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place. 

he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it. 

“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free. 

“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”

“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”

“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair. 

it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared. 

it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.

you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on. 

you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close. 

“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”

“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”

“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”

“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”

your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper. 

“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?” 

suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for. 

you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore. 

“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down. 

“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.

“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”

you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were. 

but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself. 

you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.

“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”

“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”

“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”

“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.

“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever. 

i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.

“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.

he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”

it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why. 

————————————————

even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought. 

the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare. 

you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature. 

“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again. 

as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face. 

except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high. 

it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath. 

“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause. 

and then you remember. 

faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru. 

it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have. 

but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again. 

“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh. 

“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.

“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”

it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself. 

“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close. 

“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”

you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness. 

when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night. 

————————————————

“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans. 

“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest. 

it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room. 

but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry. 

“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.

“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”

“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”

“tell him to go fuck off.”

“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”

“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly. 

you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not. 

he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen. 

you suppose this suguru is a step closer to your suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if any suguru is what you need right now. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast. 

but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as geto suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between. 

so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”

“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace. 

“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.

he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile. 

“let’s go,” you hum.

“after you,” he mutters.

—

he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart. 

suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.  

it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.

as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name. 

“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”

he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles. 

for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away. 

“what are you—”

“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment. 

“what?”

“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”

“i’m not a teenager anymore—”

“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”

“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years. 

“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”

so you do. 

with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.

“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”

“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.

“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”

“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you. 

“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru. 

suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had. 

something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.  

but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him. 

“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”

“me too,” he says quietly.

“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”

home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”

“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind. 

his breath hitches. 

she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror. 

there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms. 

perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened. 

because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.

suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko—except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him. 

“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance. 

he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.

but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along—that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to. 

but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention. 

“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence. 

every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them. 

“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”

suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.

“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”

“sure,” he says smoothly. he grabs all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them. 

but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.

————————————————

satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to. 

you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down. 

but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it. 

satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughing off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself. 

it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?

well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life. 

it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).

it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in. 

and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you. 

it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin. 

geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for. 

so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you? 

it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.

and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.

“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”

“about…?”

“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”

“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”

“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”

“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”

“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”

“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”

“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”

“alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”

“what?” you blink.

“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”

“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”

“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it. 

but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life? 

good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him. 

and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal. 

ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score. 

he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous. 

“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”

“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”

“how lucky of you,” you snort. 

—

picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good. 

so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off. 

“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”

“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”

“of all movies—”

“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”

“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”

“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”

all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think. 

“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.

“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”

“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.

“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”

“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles. 

suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it. 

you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug. 

“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”

suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed. 

“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”

you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.

it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.

“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place. 

in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.

it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.

————————————————

suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look. 

“stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”

“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch. 

“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”

“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.

“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”

“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”

“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes. 

sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small amount of bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this. 

“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”

“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”

despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room. 

suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.

“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”

there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook. 

suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again. 

he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.

“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind. 

“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”

“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”

“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”

“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”

“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks. 

it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.

deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.

it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left. 

it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good. 

you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence. 

it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away. 

“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.

“do what?”

“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”

“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”

“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.

“like what?” he raises a brow. 

“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation. 

he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.

“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”

you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.

of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too. 

you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes. 

“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”

“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.

fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too. 

“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”

“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”

never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?

“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”

“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”

“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”

“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”

“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”

“i know—”

“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?” 

“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”

“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.

“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever. 

being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive. 

“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.

“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?”

you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.

“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.

he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy. 

“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.

“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru. 

“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little. 

it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled. 

“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”

“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”

“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises. 

“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you’re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”

“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough. 

you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink. 

finally, for once, you’re enough. 

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”

“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”

“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”

“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.

he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering. 

maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much. 

in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.

“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum. 

“because i need you here. will you stay?”

“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”

hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3

also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok

[madridfangirl]

Making up after a fight - Jude Bellingham blurb

A/n - fluff, angst, comfort, suggestive

900 words. Jude*female reader.

……………………………………………………………………

‘You were amazing today. Congrats on the MOTM, so well deserved!’

You hit send, hoping for a response. You were supposed to be at the match, supporting him. But the two of you had gotten into an ugly fight just this morning. Which, in hindsight, was kinda your fault. But, hindsight is a bitch and you were downright furious in the morning.

A particular reel on your insta feed, of Jude with an upcoming Spanish actress, is what you had woken up to. The woman was gorgeous, and way too obvious with Jude - the hair flicks, side eyes, giggles, touching the arm for that extra second, all straight out of the playbook.

The hug though is what enraged you the most. Coz Jude had also wrapped both arms around her, not the typical one arm shoulder hug thing he usually did with other women. That, combined with the fact that Jude liked the pics she posted of the meeting made you blow your top.

To be fair, you had tried to avoid the fight before an important CL match, the first home KO match in-fact. But Jude had gotten impatient with your radio silence, pestered you for a call and then you couldn’t hold back.

He tried to explain that she was working on a social media campaign for RM, and other players had liked the post too. But you had shot back saying that was no reason for him to let that woman feel him up.

Jude was frustrated, and lost his cool too. This was not a new fight. You two had been here way too many times. Usually he was patient, knowing that his lifestyle was not ideal for a new relationship, but the timing of it, right before one of the most crucial matches of his career, is what irked him.

So yeah, it ended up with you not attending the match. Not even sending him a good luck message before the match, something you had never missed in the last 4 months since your first date. To top it off, you even used a nuclear weapon that you knew would set him off. By mentioning a colleague of yours who Jude hated with all the bones in his body.

It was only when you saw another angle of the video (taken on phone by other attendees) that you realised you had overreacted. The woman was still pathetic but Jude did pull back immediately from the hug, and maintained his distance. But, it was too late by then and the match had already started.

‘I am so proud of you, Jude.’

You were still on texts. Fully aware that if you call and he disconnects / doesn’t pick up, it will hurt you & your ego both.

The messages were seen. No response. It was now 1.5 hours after the match. He would be home already or on the way.

‘Wish I had been there, instead of moping all day.’

‘Why? That fucker wasn’t good company?’

Well at-least that was a response. At least.

‘Jude, I didn’t go. I wouldn’t. You know that.’

‘You had no problem throwing that in my face though.’

He was right, you could see that. It really was a low & petty blow. If only you were as clear headed in the morning.

‘I am sorry, baby. For that & everything else today. For assuming all those things without hearing you out. Really, I am.’

No response for 2 minutes, which made her anxious.

‘Don’t think I am cheating, then? Don’t think I am going to her right now or went to her last night?’

He was goading her, she could tell. But he was hurting too, that also she could tell.

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Why the change of heart, when you were so convinced earlier?’

He wasn’t gonna make it easy for her.

‘Is that important? Look, I know I messed up. I know I ruined what could have been a great day for us. You really should be celebrating right now instead of feeling shitty. And I really really am sorry, Jude. Pls can we just get over this?’

A pregnant pause, again.

She doubled down with another nuclear weapon in her kitty.

‘I love you. So much it hurts. Yes I do get crazy sometimes but you know, in your heart you know where it’s coming from.’

If this doesn’t work, she won’t know what else to do.

1 minute later, her phone flashed.

‘I needed you today.’

She clutched the phone to her chest, sighing deeply, sensing his resignation.

‘I know, honey. Promise I will be there for the next big game. And whenever else you need me.’

‘It was so shitty to play like this. Not knowing where we stand. Not knowing if you were anywhere near that asshole. Might have tackled some of the guys extra hard today.’

‘Again, I am so so sorry. But I am also super proud that despite all this you still came out on top. Like you always do.’

Jude read and re-read the text a few times, sat in his car. She always knew what she was doing so this couldn’t just be a coincidence.

‘Tryna tempt me?’

‘Depends - is it working?’

‘Be careful what you wish for, doll. I don’t have a handle on myself today.’

‘Wanna come here & show me what that’s like?’

‘Gonna ask one more time - are you sure?’

‘Uh-huh. I do deserve some disciplining today, don’t you think?’

‘I’ll be there in 20. And doll, you may have to take an off tmrw.’

……………………………………………

[littlegreenfag-archive]

Regarding @littlegreenfag

Tldr: Adina, known by the Tumblr urls littlegreenfag and prksoda, has spent the past several years lying about many facets of their life. The list of lies includes, but is not limited to, being half manouche Romani, being Jewish, and being descended from Holocaust survivors.

I never wanted to have to do this. I’ve spent months trying my best to encourage Adina to come clean themself. My methods were not ideal. I should not have used anonymous messages. I used to be friends with them, I should've talked to them openly as their friend. I also should’ve attempted to be less aggressive at times, even though I think it is incredibly reasonable to have felt the way I felt when I was sending some of those messages. I understand and regret both of these things. Unfortunately, since Adina has deactivated @littlegreenfag, I cannot provide links or screenshots to every ask of mine that they responded to, only those I saved at the time. I will do this later, upon request. This post is already going to be enough of a monster without them.

Though the last day has been a complete nightmare, I am satisfied with one thing: Adina came clean about everything, even if not publicly. My worry was always with the though of having to reveal their personal information, as many of the things they’ve lied about would require me to, functionally, dox them. Though it's technically all public, I would much rather that no one who doesn't already have access to this information gain it.

So, why am I writing this post? For those of you who were on Adina’s blog last night, you may have seen this post. I was also able to save a capture of their blog on the Internet Archive. Here is a screenshot that I took around when the post was first published. Apologies for the formatting.

To summarize, Adina begins to by admitting to a small lie, that they were born in Chicago, before admitting that they had been lying about their race. Though it was not present at the time of the blog's deletion, I would like to note that Adina had the phrase "jewish and half-romani" in their blog's bio for a very long time. This phrase was quietly removed after I sent the first anon message telling them that I was aware of their lies, on March 16th 2024. This can be seen on the Wayback Machine, by looking at the capture taken on March 5th, 2024, in comparison to the capture taken on March 24th, 2024.

That is what you may have seen. However, it is not the only major lie Adina has told. After suggesting Adina should turn off anons, I sent them another ask with my blog name visible, telling them that I could tell everyone about the other lies for them, if they wished to log off and be done with it. They messaged me privately, and this is the resulting conversation.

I apologize for the block of images, but I figured it was necessary to include the entire conversation. Here, Adina openly admits to not being Jewish. Adina has spent months receiving social benefits for claiming to be Jewish, and they've even used this claim to support arguments. Truth be told, Adina has one Jewish great-grandfather. How Adina expected me to believe they would know about this without knowing his surname, I will never know. However, I should emphasize that Adina is not Jewish by the standards of any main movement of Judaism. Orthodox and Conservative look for an unbroken line of Jewish women, while Reform asks that you be raised Jewish by a Jewish parent. Adina is descended from a Jewish man who converted to Catholicism and raised his children Catholic.

Regarding the Holocaust claim, I understand hat Adina did not directly address this. I will say that I find it suspicious that they deactivated as soon as I mentioned it, but they technically never confirmed it was a lie. However, with the information that:

The ancestors they mention as being survivors or victims quite literally do not exist and

Their Jewish ancestor was born in the United States well before WWII

I believe it is quite safe to say this was also a lie. My screenshots of their claims come mostly from their Reddit account, which is now deleted.

It is absolutely ghoulish to me to create fake relatives so that you can pretend they were tortured and killed during the Holocaust. All to receive sympathy.

Though there are many, many other lies Adina has peddled, such as being a child of divorce and having a dead biological mother, I don't think any of them matter much in the grand scheme of things when these are the other lies that have been told.

It is also worth noting that this is a pattern of behavior from Adina. As some of you who followed them may know, back in 2019, a blog was created with the intent of calling them out for lies. Frankly, this blog, @prksodalies , is what put me on to Adina's trail in the first place. Though I believe that several of the things Adina was accused of on this blog are downright cruel to accuse someone of without evidence, the fact that there were so many smaller obvious lies made me very uneasy. What specifically made me curious was the post, here, where Adina claims that they are half Lebanese. Obviously, this did not make a ton of sense with the half Roma and half Ashkenazi Jewish Adina we all knew. As it turns out, this was one of the very few shreds of truth from Adina. They're a quarter Lebanese on their father's side, and other than that and a Jewish great-grandfather, are of mostly Polish and German descent.

This being a pattern of behavior, alongside the way Adina behaved in messages with me, tells me that this will likely unfortunately not be the last time this person creates a Tumblr blog with a fabricated life story. I feel immense guilt at the thought that they may continue to swindle and hurt people, and that I will never know or be able to help again.

To everyone who was friends with this person and has been hurt by their actions, I am truly, truly sorry. This has been an absolutely miserable experience for me and I can't imagine it's much different for any of you. If you have questions, I'll be available for a least a few hours. I do not want to share any of their personal information, but I will share what I need to (privately) if some of you need or want more information.

[longing-for-the-past-times]

finding out it's your birthday

task force 141 x reader

synopsis: It's your birthday, but you don't know how to tell your teammates about it

notes: don't really know how to properly describe this, but it's based on this request and my personal experience of having to spend my birthday at work (no, I did not bring them baked goods, just sweets from the shop). Really short, not proofread, no plot.

comments and reblogs are always appreciated🙈

warnings: none

find it on ao3 masterlist

"and now I am dreaming and you're singing at my birthday// and I've never seen you smile so big" - moon song

There were a lot of potential ways you could have spent your birthday, but running through the narrow hallways of the base with a heavy backpack slung over a shoulder definitely hadn't been one of them

You almost crashed into other three operators, including König from KorTac who had the common sense to place his heavy hands on your shoulders in an attempt to steady you before you ran him over in your rush to get to the meeting room

Laswell had advanced the hour the post-mission debriefing was supposed to take place and it ended up clashing with your own schedule, the one day you decided to organise your actions into one and now you were late by almost 5 minutes. Which wouldn't seem like much to some, but being a member of Task Force 141 meant you needed to uphold a certain standard.

But it was your birthday and even if you were 99% sure no one was actually aware of it, you'd spent the morning baking oat cookies and muffins, and carefully packing them into casseroles. You also tried to bring them to the destination with minimal damage, but now you could only hope there was something edible left of the baked goods.

"I'm sorry I'm late!", you meekly excused yourself, taking a seat between Ghost and Soap and blushing slightly when feeling Price's judging glare.

"Anyway, as I was saying when you tried to infiltrate through this crack in the perimeter…"

Slightly tapping your left foot against the floor, you couldn't focus on Laswell's words. What if they didn't like the cookies - you were never able to make them both soft and chewy - or what if the muffins stuck to the muffin liners? Did you put too many chocolate chips in them?

"Y/N? What's your take on this?"

You looked at Price with an alarmed expression, panic bubbling up in your chest upon seeing the questioning looks of the others. You didn't catch the last part of the question - were they asking about your birthday? Laswell must have known, she was the one responsible for all the intelligence after all.

So you did what seemed the most logical thing to do. You opened the backpack and placed the plastic casseroles on the table, unaware that everyone else in the room was literally frozen in place.

"So yeah, it's my birthday today and I made some cookies and muffins and thought it would be nice to share them with you and… that's not what you were talking about, is it?"

Your words trailed as you realised that the timing wasn't as ideal as you planned. At least, now you were sure they hadn't known: Price's eyes were widened comically, and Gaz was repeatedly blinking at you in confusion and disbelief. Soap let out a thunderous laugh as he instantly pulled you into a bear hug and Ghost… you couldn't tell his expression under the mask, but the blank look in his eyes meant he was probably still wrapping his head around it

"How about we forget any of this happened and I do it again after the debrief is over?" A blush spread on your cheeks as you tried to put the casseroles back into the backpack, but you were stopped by Gaz's firm grip.

"Are you kidding? It's your birthday, we should celebrate - go out for drinks and do karaoke and-"

Price and Kate shared a knowing look between themselves and shook their heads in defeat. Before being able to ask them what was the matter, Kate closed the laptop and began to stuff the files back into the manilla folders

"Happy birthday, Y/N! We will resume this tomorrow. And now tell me, what kind of oats did you use for the cookies, plain or instant? My wife's been trying to make them this chewy, but she never seems to get the recipe right."

It was your turn to open your mouth in disbelief when you saw Price joining Kate at the table, securing a casserole of oat cookies just for themselves

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?", he asked in a gentle tone, fishing breadcrumbs from his moustache.

"I… It's not that important, I mean…"

You couldn't help but flinch when someone placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it slightly, as if in reassurance. You turned your look to Ghost, who was holding a pink muffin in his gloved hand. His mask was lifted up to his nose, revealing his tight-lipped smile:

"Don't ever say that again, ok? That is all the more reason to celebrate it. You were the one who got us out safe from the bunker after all…"

And you could swear you saw his lips twitching into a smile, a playful glimmer dancing in his eyes as he bit into the cupcake

[techramonic]

Analysis on Dylan's Transcribed Journal Entries

Disclaimer: This analysis/psychoanalysis is limited only to analysis as a means to reflect and understand the people involved. It is strictly informative. Just like all of my posts, I am detached from the media I write about and solely focus on the people to understand their psychology, for others to gain insight. There is no room for me to romanticize or glorify anything I write because I am only here to explain. I understand and research, but I do not condone. Thank you.

"Fact: People are so unaware.... well, Ignorance is bliss I guess.... that would explain my depression." - Dylan

On pages 26. 385, we are given a glimpse of Dylan's personality in just one sentence. This hypersensitivity, which he links to his heightened "awareness," is entwined with suffering, or in his terms, depression. He perceives his relentless thought cycle as a curse, one that he cannot control. He mourns this enlightenment because it isolates him, making him feel different and detached from others. Dylan believes his uniqueness renders him unacceptable, worsening his sense of alienation and driving him to view himself more as a concept than a human being.

On p. 26. 388, he entails that he commits "moral" acts to "cleanse" himself or rid of any filth present in his life, making it seem that this is one of the only ways to allow his life to head to the right direction because he has no clear sense of path and possibly believes that all roots of destruction and chaos present in his life are born out of the morally unjust. He considers his misfortune to be an eternal suffering that transcends all realities; for he believes miserableness is bound to him.

Perhaps one of the reasons why he tries to rid himself of immorality is because of his unconscious belief that it might be the root of his problem. Cleansing himself is a temporary form of escapism aimed at removing permanent wrongs. It does not last, of course, because as humans, we make mistakes. However, his approach to this is considering his wrongs to be eternal and innate, which is not true and further drives him into miserableness.

Dylan also dwells on the past and is prone to transference. In psychoanalysis, transference occurs when past experiences influence current ideologies, projecting unresolved problems and traumas onto present events. This is evident in Dylan's detachment from others, rooted in past isolation and alienation. He believes no one can accept or love him due to his unresolved abandonment issues.

Expanding on abandonment, as noted on p. 26. 394, Dylan feels deserted because his "only" best friend spends more time with his partner, leaving Dylan feeling unwanted and rendering his efforts in their friendship unreciprocated. This loneliness leaves him more upset than resentful, holding onto hope that his friend will come back. This ties into his deep yearning for love. He repeatedly expresses his desire to be loved and accepted by his peers, his crush, and anyone. Even when infatuated, he idealizes love, feeling it deeply because he actively seeks it and feels deprived of it. Dylan is infatuated with the concept of love itself, craving it so intensely to the point he practically craves it so actively and it becomes a central focus of his existence.

Yearning: to be seen, to be loved, to be accepted, to be human.

[mclalan]

What art program do you use? sorry if you already answered something like this but im so mesmerized by the techniques you use in your art.

Thank you. No need to apologise; I don't mind answering this question because it's an excuse to walk through my latest image!

The concept for this piece is based on being perceived online through interpretations of posts and artwork, yet how artificial this can be. The relationship the viewer forms is more with the narrative of the work, and any insight into the artist through this feels highly awkward to me, which is precisely what I want to explore with this piece.

In this example, I wanted an attractive sitter to look like someone out of a new romantics music video or like an Enya video, because this genre and era of media is very aesthetically pleasing and nostalgic for me. I hold it as an unobtainable ideal— a hauntology. So, as wonderful as it is, it equally feels shameful and perverse because it's an aesthetic object of desire that I am contriving.

The sitter is holding one of my cartoon characters, Lauren Ipson, the protagonist of my Ersatz world project. A trope in writing is when a character acts as a self-insert of the author, and I'm conscious to try and avoid that with Lauren. I try to write Lauren as dry and sardonic yet also fun, dramatic, and friendly. I don't think of these as personal qualities of my own, but I imagine personal qualities bleeding into fictional characters is inevitable.

Yet Lauren Ipson feels much more alive a character to me compared to any attempt at self-portraiture or self-expression that I've done, which is very little because I'm not interested in constructing a perceivable identity. (I'm aware this text itself can be interpreted as self-expression; however, to me this is just another construct.)

So Is the sitter meant to be me, controlling Lauren? I'm definitely baiting the viewer to think this, and you can interpret it that way if you want, but really I don't think of the sitter as me at all. My intention is to show how it's all a facarde. The sitter is basically just as much a doll, a puppet, a mannequin as Lauren Ipson is, if anything more so.

There's a deliberate irony between Lauren's cartoon rendering and the sitter, who I wanted to render with more detail and evoke a modernist style. I'm inspired by Hans Bellmer and Dorothea Tanning with their work with dolls. However, despite that implied visual hierarchy, the more detailed sitter shares a similar, stilted vector construct to Lauren. They're both born from vector drawing after all. And it's further undermined with the way Lauren the doll looks directly at the viewer, as if she's alive, while the sitter looks to the side with a blank, almost dead-in-the-eyes expression.

Anyway, with that in mind, almost all of my work starts as a thumbnail sketch. Although I often draft digitally and am fine with doing that, I feel more confident doing it freehand on paper. Digital rendering feels more like a refinement process to me. Funnily enough, although I often prefer to sketch with physical materials, I'm anxious of refining or rendering with them.

I like my designs to be very direct and conceivable, so a solid silhouette, pose, negative space etc. I often create a quick digital sketch with this in mind, either by tracing or referencing the thumbnail, although sometimes I skip this step and go straight to the rendered drawing. The aim is to establish a visual guide, dividing the drawing into various shapes for digital airbrush rendering later on.

With this composition, I made a second draft with more attention to details such as the face, hands and feet. Sometimes I'll use photo references if I'm struggling with posing or anatomy. These drafts are often blue because it's easier to render the black linework over a transparent blue sketch.

The chair took some time but was relatively simple to render. It uses the line tool set to magnetic anchor point, following two-point perspective vanishing points. I like two-point perspective because it feels sort of digitally native to me to have these impossibly perfect vertical lines. I also know the horizon line should be at eye level or something, but I just like the idea of the top of the chair to be perfectly horizontal.

Here I'm drawing the final rendered form. I use the stroke tool with it set as smooth as possible. Often I'll redraw lines over and over if it means getting certain curves to look right. Once the lines are drawn, I'll fill them in and remove the stroke, leaving just the solid vector shape. The shade of grey I use is done to simply denote the shape. It does not represent any kind of shading or anything; in fact, when I bring it into Photoshop, all these shapes are set to the same shade, but if I had that here in Animate as I'm drawing, it would be impossible to see what I'm doing. The red background is just for clarity.

Once it's all drawn, I'll make sure every shape is clean, overlapping nicely, and divided into its own layer. A composition can often be comprised of hundreds of separate shapes.

Each shape will be its own layer in Photoshop, which will operate as a clipping mask. The clipping masks act like masking tape or shielded off areas for soft brush opacity rendering, similar to the soft atomised rendering from an airbrush, just done digitally.

I follow very rudimentary painting techniques of simple shading, lighting, and bounce-back highlights. I follow a simplified Grisaille technique, focusing on strong values in greyscale before adding a wash of colour with a color gradient map set to layer style color. Sometimes my values can be a little off, but as long as the values are all consistently acting together, I can correct them with transparent washes or color curves. If the greyscale looks harmonious with all the forms clear, colour will likely work.

Proper digital painters will say this is an amateur process, with results that look mechanical and stiff, as colours in the real world all bounce together off different surfaces, resulting in colour harmonies. However, I don't mind the inharmonious nature of the colours, as I find the values give the composition enough harmony. I'm working digitally, so why go to all the effort to make it not look digital? It's interesting to me to have the red chair look blindingly red, the green skirt look blindingly green.

Colours can look boring without some form of harmony though, so I will add in blue-greens with the darker areas, more turquoise greens towards the highlights.

Skin tones are far more complex, however, as it's something that's more informed by realism. This is why kigurumi dolls with their plastic flesh look so artificial to the eye, because we're familiar with how light passes through flesh and skin and all the subtleties of colour that it picks up. This piece is the first time I've explored flesh tones, as typically I avoid all this by rendering skin as grey porcelain.

I needed to really up the contrast, with shaded areas becoming purples and highlights verging on washed out. Areas with more blood, like feet and cheeks, appear more orange and red. Areas closer to bone and cartilage, like the bridge of the nose, can look almost blue and green. Exploring these colour values and tints in the aim of natural tones was fun to do, and ironic given how blank the face is.

Although in the moment I feel very much like I'm rendering a realistic reality, when I step back, I'm reminded how stylised and unrealistic the painting actually is. It looks kind of insane, like everything is so uniform and overtly saturated. It doesn't feel present in a real space, despite the shadow and form implies one. But I'm not consciously thinking of these things, of style, as I'm working. To me, it's a process of world-building and problem-solving.

[nightwngz]

Can I request a hal x reader x kyle smut os? If so, I would like the plot to be about them all hating each other and having angry sex.

HATE FUCK !

hal jordan x fem!reader x kyle rayner

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. . . porn with plot. smut. daddy kink with Hal, dirty talk, degradation. fingering, p in v, anal sex, choking, manhandling?

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲. . . Recently corrected because the original was poorly written. 💔

One of life's misfortunes is being put in situations that can be incredibly uncomfortable, but sharing a team with two people you hate? That's definitely something you wouldn't wish on anyone.

Since you joined the Green Lanterns, there have always been two people who have tried to make your rise within the Corps a little more difficult. Two people who, unfortunately for you, were assigned by the Guardians to be your superiors because you were too new to take on a mission on your own.

Hal Jordan and Kyle Rayner: Annoying, cocky, and more experienced than you. Enough to make you take a back seat on every mission.

The three of you were on an unknown planet, possibly light years away from Oa. Sitting in a seedy bar surrounded by alien life, you wondered if it was right to be a part of it. Was it even worth putting up with them?

— Is this our sector? — you asked as you followed them in flight.

You had the misfortune to be distracted by an alien with disproportionate physical qualities and advanced until you collided with Hal's back.

— Be careful. As long as you're in our custody, what happens to you and your sweet ass is up to us. So keep your mouth shut and fly carefully. — He growled at you.

— It was just a question.

— And if you can't follow a simple order, maybe you should reconsider being part of the team. — Kyle said, turning to you.

Of the two, Hal was usually the more hostile. Kyle just nodded, but sometimes he had the luxury of reprimanding you for nonsense, like now. It was strange, actually, that neither of them would be critical of another rookie, but with you, they would even criticize the way you had to fly or the structures you formed with your ring. You swore that not even Kilowog had been so strict before.

Still, it seemed that the hatred Kyle and Hal had for you also held for each other. For a moment, you thought they were great allies, but it was difficult for them to agree on anything regarding the mission. Unfortunately for you, even if they decided on an ideal plan, you couldn't and shouldn't have a say in it, so if they didn't agree, you didn't care. It seems that it's only when they're on to you that things really pay off.

Frankly, hating them and being hated by them didn't change how easy it was for you to fall into their hands. You always felt inferior to them, both in the Corps and in bed. Where you are now: in Kyle's apartment, soiling the sheets.

You were pinned against the mattress. At the same time you were biting the pillow while he was busy pleasuring you with his fingers. He wasn't gentle at all, not even touching you, but that didn't change the fact that it felt good.

The texture of his fingers slid contemptuously over your wet pussy. You were aware of your own pleasure as your accelerated breathing and small moans were the only things echoing in the room.

He watched you as he always did. There was no hint of affection or love in his eyes, just carnal lust. He didn't like you at all; he just liked the idea of fucking you and leaving you like he always did.

Hal Jordan was the same, if not worse.

— You should have told me that this invitation included a private show.

You quickly snapped out of your state of utter pleasure when you were startled by the presence of Hal watching from the doorway.

He was wearing that aviator jacket you would never admit how much you liked. His brown hair was disheveled, and maybe the effect of lust made you think the wrong things about his choice of jeans.

What was he doing here?

— Did you miss me that much, honey? — he asked. — I had to come urgently just to show Kyle how to treat you.

In an instant, he was standing in front of you. You looked into his deep brown eyes as one of his large and masculine hands wrapped around your neck without choking you.

You always found him handsome. It never mattered to you that he was quite a bit older than you. He was probably a decade ahead of you, unlike Kyle, who was barely a year or two ahead of you. As much as it bothered you, being in bed with him made you feel like you had to nod and give in to everything he asked you to do, just because he wanted you to.

With Kyle, on the other hand, you were a brat: a capricious brat who only wanted to please herself and had to be disciplined to make you behave.

Maybe that's why Hal's hands kept squeezing your neck and Kyle's kept rubbing your pussy.

— Look at me. Only me. Don't think about him. — He told you and began to apply a light pressure that began to suffocate you.

Immediately, Kyle abruptly pulled Hal's hands away from you, trying to get your attention back on him.

— Who is fucking your wet pussy with his hand right now, need I remind you?

You paused to catch your breath, just as you used it as an excuse not to answer the man's question. Since it didn't matter how much they noted that it was only a sexual thing, they would still compete in everything that had to do with you.

Immediately you felt knuckles pressing against your clit. If Kyle had been guarding your hole before, Hal was now caressing your sensitive spot that desperately needed attention.

Your senses begin to sharpen. You begin to fall deeper into the surface of the bed. You feel your vision and thoughts blur with pleasure. The heat hits you hard, sucking the oxygen out of you.

— Eyes on Daddy. — Hal asked. — I want you to look into my eyes when you cum on my fingers.

— If she cums on your fingers, it's thanks to me. — growled the other.

— We'll see. — He grinned at you without stopping his movements.

You were still. You only moaned because the sensations were so overwhelming that you couldn't even remember the names of the men who were stimulating you. You tried not to look at them and just lay there with your eyes on the ceiling. Soon you came on both fingers, leaving a complete mess on the mattress.

— Enough for you? — Kyle asked, approaching you with the intention of wiping away your tears. — I hope not, we're not done yet. Or what, you think Hal would come all this way just to touch this used pussy?

— Relax, she knows what I want, don't you? — he asked. In return, he put his knee between your legs with the intention of being able to open them again.

— Yes, Daddy.

— “Yes, Daddy?” Is it with him that you decide to be good and obedient? — the younger man asked as he reached into the drawer and pulled out lubricant and several condoms.

He positioned himself behind you, in a position from which he could perfectly observe your ass. Without consulting you, he extended a lubricated finger over your anal hole. You knew what was going to happen and you couldn't help but feel scared; you had never gone so far as to dare to do it from behind.

— I shouldn't, but I'll try to be gentle with you just this once. You're acting like a total brat.

Then you looked for a second at Hal, who was pulling you by your hips until you were on his naked lap. You quickly felt his huge erection thrusting into your pussy, which was not yet fully penetrated.

— You know how I like it. — He told you while one of his hands slid over the skin of your breasts. — Tell me how much you love me. With sincerity.

You looked at him and answered as honestly as your conscience would allow:

— I can't stand you. I've hated you since the day I joined the Corporation. You have done everything in your power to make every day of my life more difficult. I despise you both.

They both smiled self-sufficiently as they accomplished the task of inserting themselves into you from one side at a time.

— Good girl. — He complimented you.

— Always saying what we want to hear.

[fishnapple]

CRYSTAL READING : The part that you neglected. What needs your attention?

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Feedback is much appreciated ❤️

Masterpost

Buy me a drink or book a reading with me - KO-FI (Read this post : personal reading)

1. Moss agate group

Have you ever thought that your home is your greatest treasure?

Do you feel really at home ?

with the physical place, with the emotions?

All the striving for material security, for beauty, for a stable life,

wanting to transform, even altering your appearance,

it would actually get in your way

of achieving a sense of safety in the world.

Too much focus on society, the other people, the community you're living in,

would strip you the joy of just being an individual, an individual with their own way of thinking, their own way of feeling things.

An imaginary barrier has been placed inside, distancing you from true intimacy with life.

A faraway ideal would push your own light into a forgotten closet.

2. Moonstone group

A bow points towards the sky,

an arrow ready to be shot.

Your life's trajectory is rising straight to the highest height.

You would feel overwhelmed,

or in the dark.

Am I the one that shot the arrow,

or just a leaf caught in their flying path ?

While your life is jetting ahead, fortunes are falling in,

you might forget the simple pleasures

of being with friends and families,

of relaxing and just sit back for a while.

Too much force would break the bow string.

3. Garnet group

Relationships with others,

especially romantic love

would be your greatest teacher.

Every time you entered a relationship,

you are transported to this school of heart

to learn again and again.

But somehow, some lessons were always avoided.

The feeling of falling in love makes you become the character in those fairy tales,

where the main character is taken to an enchanted place,

staying there and forgetting about the mundane life,

which is the actual relationship itself,

and the work it would take to make the relationship last.

4. Smoky quartz group

You would put so much effort into making others feel comfortable.

Creating a beautiful environment for others to thrive.

Always try to say nice things,

be helpful to others,

over thinking the smallest detail.

Would they agree with me ?

Would they accept me into their circle ?

How would I be without my friends,

without the people around me ?

There is a well hidden fear inside that you my not really aware of.

A fear of the unknown,

of the misty path lying ahead,

of losing control of your life.

Clinging to the small details would make you blind to the overall path you are walking on.

Love.

[starmosaics]

Shadow of natal Venus-Lilith aspects

This post is about Black Moon Lilith and i'm mainly talking about the conjunction and harsh aspects.

I have Venus conjunct Lilith in my own chart so here's some notes based off of my personal experience and observations. Sidenote: I am not shaming anyone for having these shadow aspects as they exist within me as well. Dominant Lilith folks are meant to self integrate their shadow sides to gain better awareness and to accept them to become whole. Everything I speak about are things I currently struggle with or have previously struggled with. I want this to be nothing but a safe space for Lilith dominant folks.

Sexualization and fetishization: These people are often sexualized at a very young age and throughout their lives. People often make sexual comments or gestures towards these individuals. Venus-Lilith folks may also become fetishized. People can project their fantasies onto Venus-Lilith natives, treating them as objects, only viewing them as sexual figures rather than actual human beings. People may have hidden agendas towards the Venus-Lilith person as well usually revolving around wanting to obtain something from them such as sex. People may paint Venus-Lilith people to be provocative and "sexually suggestive" when they're simply just existing.

Society: Lilith dominant people are often shamed by others. People project things onto them and create false perceptions of them. Society will stare, create assumptions, and speak behind these people's back. One of the purposes of Lilith dominance in a chart is for the person to completely leave societal expectations to follow their own unique path and to do it fearlessly. This is a huge challenge for them as they will often feel judged, unaccepted and ridiculed by others. They may have had family members project certain ideals onto them which in return they internalized and grew up trying to fit in with everyone around them. They may have been bullied during their developmental years, or got sucked into societal standards. Whatever a Lilith dominant person does that isn't deemed acceptable by the common collective, there will be talk. They must learn to disregard this and to continue to walk their own path and life their lives to the fullest; something that's true to them. They must honor the things that make them different from others.

Self image and self esteem: When/if sexualized at a young age or shamed by others, they can easily internalize this and seek external validation which in return ruins their perceptions of themselves and their self esteem. They could have an obsession over wanting to achieve perfection committing to an ideal that often is projected onto them by another. These people must work on healing this aspect within themselves as they can easily act on self hatred or create a false image of themselves, essentially creating a mask.

Control: Venus-Lilith folks may have issues regarding control within themselves and their relationships. They may resist any control that is put onto them, but can push to control their partners. They have a difficulty with being told no which can lead to acting impulsively and seeking instant gratification to get what they want; when their eyes are set on something, they do everything to get it. They also can have a hard time with compromising with partners due to their need for control. The need for control often stems from not wanting to be taken advantage of by others, especially by their partners.

Men...: Something to be mindful of is men treat Lilith dominant people weirdly. Men who are in relationships will show interest, men will stare at you wherever you go, their eyes will dart or follow your every move, men will unsolicitedly approach you, men will try to control and dominate you, men will think you're seducing them, men will project their fantasies onto you and have no shame in making it known, and men will objectify and sexualize you. I've had men suggest sex or straight up ask me for it; men who I've barely spoken to or just met. It's disgusting.

Sexuality: I have seen this play out in mainly two different ways; one being the Venus-Lilith person refraining from indulging in their sexual desires, restraining their sexuality and sexual expression, or the Venus-Lilith person discovering their sexuality earlier on and becoming sexually liberated. The shadow sides of these two scenarios is they can either be sexually repressed, usually caused by shame or guilt for having such desires, or they can overt their sexuality in an unhealthy manner, leading to debauchery or to gain or win something from another by luring them in. These people must create a healthy relationship with their sexuality and sexual desires so it's not completely dormant and kept on the backburner, or so it doesn't completely overrule their lives.

Relationships: Oftentimes relationships are complicated for Venus-Lilith natives. They can become another person's rebound, can become a third party (or what they call the other woman/a mistress) in someone else's relationship, can enter a toxic relationship, can confuse passion, limerence, and lust for love, or can repeatedly face heartbreak and chaos in one's love life. Something i've experienced in myself and have noticed in others is that there's sometimes there's a struggle with give in take in their relationships. They may want or expect their partner to fulfill all their needs, essentially wanting more than what they can give. They can have a difficult time with feeling entirely satisfied and may unconsciously ask for more than what a person can give. They may put their needs first or focus on how a relationship will serve them rather than entering something solely for love. Venus-Lilith people may be obsessive and have attachments towards potential partners OR they attract obsessive people. Even in the beginning stage of a relationship, they may find that their partners become quickly attached and possessive over the Venus-Lilith native. Jealousy is also another thing they may face within themselves or whomever they're romantically involved with. When they are in love, they're super intense; feeling love so strongly that it consumes them. Heartbreak is incredibly painful for anybody, but people with Venus-Lilith may completely rip themselves apart if heartbroken. At the end of a painful heartbreak or lesson in love, there's always an incredible transformation these individuals go through to better understand themselves and their shadows, deepest desires and fears, and others.

[iceinwhb]

Me, and my opinion. Last post.

Ok, I am simply amazed that there are comments on whb. Ha. When they were complaining about Levi and his new card, I thought it was because of how childish and silly it had been. I didn't expect them to give him the real P solely because Mc was younger.

So, at some points, with some posts talking about it, I thought I was going to be really rude if I got into an argument, “over nothing”, but now that I'm justified...

1.- We are adults.

And as adults that we are, we don't get to invent, or assume. We resolve ourselves with facts, and with coldness. We do not launch stupid and unverifiable accusations. If we want to point out a fact, you must demonstrate that Leviathan, as a character, is a pedophile.

2.- Do I really have to explain it?

For the people who accuse Leviathan of being a pedophile, where the hell do they get that from? Are they guided only because they wear a uniform? Mc may very well be over the legal age of consent for sexual relations in any country, not only that, Mc's nationality is Korean. In South Korea, they enter college at between 18-19 and finish between 22-23. At no time was it specified that Mc went to high school, or anything like that. Another point, are they really going to discuss the age of Mc when Leviathan biblically exists since the beginning of creation? Really? I don't know if those people will feel better if Mc is at least five thousand years old.

If don't have enough…

Well, let's say Mc was 16-17. You, player, are between 19-30. Do you know what age the game is geared towards? +18 in case we forgot the LITTLE detail. What if they know that Mc is the player's representation? Idk what they want. Especially BECAUSE THEY ARE ADULTS who know how to tell the difference, separate fact from fiction, separate a game from real life. Leviathan is not out there on the loose, looking for 18-23 year old “babes”, my god. And no one who plays the game, is going after a minor just because Leviathan likes the Mc who is probably 20 YEARS OLD. And more, of course. The story is based ON A DREAM, MADE OF MAGIC. Where do they find sense for they to want to complain about it? At this point I am indeed laughing at how absurd it sounds, because that's what it is.

Last but not least.

Okay, let's ignore all of the above. If you don't like the game, because it has certain themes, stop playing, go to Play Store, and look for the thousands of Otome games you like so much. There are millions, even those that touch only a sexual plot. There are hundreds and hundreds of different games for all tastes, but don't ruin the experience for other players just because other people think Leviathan is a pedophile. The game is PB's, and they can do whatever they wants with it as they has always done.

Really is the last.

With this point, it is where we delve into the fact that PB never gently implies when they talk about abuse, nor do they leave it implicit. They never did, they never would, they know the topics they touch on, how they use them and they never romanticize them. We are all aware of when it happens, and we are consistent enough to know that it is wrong, and that we are not going to replicate it in our daily lives, nor idealize as if we were 13 years old.

So, person who thinks they saw the worst of the worst, and you expose it as if no one has three fingers in front to understand it, question it and know it's a game, you're not helping anyone. Those of us in fandom are not idiots to not know what we are consuming. We know what whb is, we are aware of the complicated issues, and no, we are not 14, much less 16, we can think for ourselves and know what is wrong. You don't have to stress what we already know, please. If you want to complain, don't make a pointless war out of the issue, show that you have reading comprehension and do it on a reasoned basis. (Although I don't promise that anyone is going to take any notice of you for it, because no matter what you say, I repeat, we know what we are consuming).

If someone has to send this to one of those who can't even research for a minute, do it. Because it is truly fucked up to be at the expense of a daily absurd complaint.

Clarification.

I am not implying that no one is complaining. In fact, we should understand, learn, and tolerate all opinions, but it's one thing to say that Leviathan is an unprecedented jerk, abuser, and manipulator (and I would totally agree with the point), and quite another to accuse him of seriousness, spread him thin, and have more people, who don't know about the subject, want to play along, to the point that they get to PB.

I knew that whb had the potential to grow

And reach the public, even the wrong audience. But for certain types of people to make such a big deal over a card, especially over something as trivial as the Leviathan card it's absurdly stupid.

My prediction of all this is that Pretty Busy is going to be criticized sooner or later. We accept it, but we know it's not going to come from fandom, because we're not teenagers with attention issues.

It looks like PB is going to have to post more warnings and cautions about its content and the kind of themes they can find in it even within the game itself. I, what I fear the most, is that they will end up censoring it. (Because it's not enough for X and Play to have it labeled as C content.)

[osleeplessflowero]

-🎃Scares and a Sudden Friendship🪓-

yes i am aware it is no longer halloween and it is now december. after this oneshot i will exclusively focus on winter themes, but i just HAD to get this idea out. Horror belongs to Sour Apple Studios. Reader goes by They/Them pronouns as always. 🧡 Warning for swearing! Horror goes by Sans here since this is in a Horrortale Post-Pacifist exclusive timeline.

It's a cold Halloween night.

You and your boyfriend decided to go to a Haunted House for the occasion after you finally managed to pester him enough.

"C'mon, c'mon! Hurry up!" You walk hurriedly along the sidewalk in your shark onesie, spotting the closest Haunted House that's covered in decorations, lights, and signs. Your boyfriend following slowly behind.

"I'm coming, jeez. I don't get why you get so excited over all this. We're grown now. This is kid stuff." He looks bored, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He didn't even dress up for the occasion, just wearing his normal fall clothes to keep warm.

"Hey, Halloween is fun for all ages." You point at him accusingly. "Besides, we can finally have some fun together tonight! You've been so busy doing your own stuff and I've missed you a lot, so this is a perfect chance to-"

"Yeah yeah..let's just get this over with. Maybe if we're lucky we can get some candy little kids dropped." He stomps on some old wrappers. Jeez..such a buzzkill. Oh well, he won't ruin your fun in here! You're sure his mood will turn around once you both get inside.

You both reach the entrance, you practically bouncing with excitement while your boyfriend seems to be distracted by some of the scare actors passing by.

You're both eventually let in after signing a slightly concerning waiver, walking inside. You admire the decorations and care put into the environments, occasionally having little jumps when animatronics pop out at you which just results in laughter afterwards. Your boyfriend on the other hand looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here, rolling his eyes at some of the scares and pulling out his phone at one point.

Truth be told, the last few months haven't been..ideal with him. You've hardly had any time together and when you finally do he just ignores you or seems like he doesn't want to be there. You've started to wonder if he even really wants to be your partner anymore..

You shake your head. Now is not the right place to be thinking about that. You should be having fun!

You greet some of the scare actors, having more fun than fear. You assume this is what happens to most people with Bravery souls. There's a large variety of them, some monsters, some humans. All of them doing a very good job!

You both make your way through an escape room section, you doing most of the work. You finally find the key, unlocking the door.

"Here we gooo, next room, woo!" "Yaaay."

The next room you enter is filled with props like mannequins and hanging objects that are meant to look like ghosts.

You cling to your boyfriend's arm, feeling unsettled as you both progress. He actually seems to tense up this time as well, looking around. It's quiet in the room..you feel a chill go down your spine.

You make your way down a small hallway that leads into the next area, jolting when a tall monster jumps out at you both with a fake hatchet. You jump back, your boyfriend screams, pushes you aside and..runs off. Without you.

You stare in the direction he ran off in, eyes wide in disbelief.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" You put your hands on your head, feeling tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes.

He just..left you.

He ran off without you in a scary unfamiliar location.

He abandoned you.

You try to hold back your tears when a bony hand rests on your shoulder. You look up to see the scare actor lifting up his mask, revealing eyelights with one empty and the other having a bright red circle in it, focusing on you.

"...don't waste your tears over that guy. 's okay." His voice is deep, a comforting sound to hear in a way. It's oddly soft despite his sharp appearance. You try not to look at that large cracked hole in his head. He probably appreciates that.

He raises up the other hand, wiping your tears away.

"I am so breaking up with him." "yikes. that guy's your boyfriend? some partner, leaving your datemate in an unfamiliar place alone." "Not anymore. I'm dumping him." "good call." "..Could you maybe..show me where the exit is? I don't really have the drive to go through here all by myself." You hold your arm shyly.

"i'll do you one better." He holds out his prop hatchet, handing it to you.

You look at it then at him, raising a brow.

"let's go scare the shit out of him."

You grin wide, taking the hatchet from him as he goes to pull his mask back down.

The two of you run out of the room and the moment you spot him you start SPRINTING, the skeleton following close behind.

The moment he finds the exit the two of you burst out laughing, taking a few seconds to compose yourselves.

"So..I'm gonna be removing his number from my phone..any chance I could have yours, stranger?" You point finger guns at him.

He seems surprised for a moment, before simply lifting his mask back up and smiling.

"just call me sans. nice to meet'cha." He gives you his number and you make sure to save it. "You too, Sans. Would you like to..I dunno, go get coffee or something? I'd like to get to know you." "i wouldn't mind. how does tomorrow sound?" "Great."

The two of you smile at each other before Sans' boss tells him to get back to work, and you wave goodbye before sending a text to your boyfriend to tell him you want to talk.

Part 2

[activelybrainwashed]

Pinned Post

I claim this one to be my most honest blog, so here we go:

First of all, what this is about: Basically a hypnosis, brainwashing and mindcontrol fetish blog where I share my thoughts, experiences, ideas and anything I feel the need to express or let be known.

About me: I am a very chill Mexican dude living currently his 31st year of existence in Mexico City, with the goal of living in Europe someday, and professionally, becoming a digital artist.

Now the interesting part:

Why this blog exists: Well, as many people here, I found out I loved hypno even before knowing how it was called thanks to the good old 90's cartoons (and prior's) mesmerizing scenes.

I've gone through several blog names, I can't even remember many of them now, but they were all completely about the same thing: Hypnosis & beautiful girls.

And now after years of denying the part of me that didn't only want to own a hot and docile hypno slave, but also wanted to become one, I finally decided to create this little blog, as I accept more and more every day how much I enjoy listening to files and letting them reshape my thoughts, interests, will and self along with all the content and beautiful people I find here in Tumblr.

Right now what made me create this blog is that the files are making me feel really good and changing me in ways I didn't expect, and although I can openly say that I'm a little scared and sometimes put up some resistance, each day I enjoy it more and find more time to experience it and just let go.

Triggers:

Good girl / boy: Intense pleasure and increased suggestibility

Good doll: Intense pleasure and I behave and feel like a childish doll

Snaps: Intense arousal while commanding me to sleep and sink

Ragdoll: I go limp like a ragdoll

Spirals: Arousal and mindlessness

Pendulums: Confusion, sleepiness and dropping deep

Blank: Mindlessness

There might be more I'm not aware of from files and long time exposure to hypno media.

Feel free to use them and give me new ones.

Note: If I don't like them or they go against my pointers, they will not work. Don't try to go around it if I say no.

Some pointers:

Just to make it clear, I'm not a "sissy" and I will seriously block you and probably publicly roast you if you insinuate and bother me about it.

What I'm into:

Hypnosis

Mind control

Reprogramming

Dollification

Obedience (within reason)

Current fantasy/goal is to be able to transform and see myself as a woman using a very specific trigger, becoming able to switch between my normal self and an ideal female version of myself anytime. 🩷

What I'm not into:

IQ reduction

Non-consensual enslavement

Forceful douchebags

Anything involving body fluids other than drool and cum

Gore & hardcore violent stuff

Rule #1: Do not ask for pictures, videos or audios of me.

With that said, feel free to write me and sen asks. I prefer asks because I take really long answering DMs and people can become somewhat demanding about it, which I cannot really indulge.

If you want to know anything about me, try to hypnotize me, say a friendly greeting to me or the community or who knows, even feeling generous and help out a bit, feel free to send an Ask and I'll reply to you as soon as I can ✨

-------------------------------------------------------------`, I've changed so much since I posted this first omg I feel so so amazing! ,‘-

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Files I can't go a day without:

• Listen

• Good girls rub hypnosis

• Obey & Do your Chores

Good girls suck

Drip Drop Snap Pop

Become stoopid for men

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I'm a bit unsure about this but i made a ko-fi account in case any of you would like helping me a bit to buy toys hehe! 💖 • https://ko-fi.com/emmadoll_abwshd