#angst bruh

[sweeneydino]

Eldest.

[nallhir]

forger family! or yknow yor protection squad?

[chronicdisasterwrites]

death is pretty but his eyes are prettier

pairing: gojo satoru x reader (gojo’s past arc)

genre + warnings: - blood, injuries, mentions of death, passing out and intestines spilling out of the body (it's a bit gory but nothing crazy), swearing, reader is shorter than satoru but other than that it's gender-neutral (i'm pretty sure), shoko smoking, protective satoru and suguru.

a bit angsty but definitely FLUFF !!

word count: 3,191 (yikes lmao)

authors note: okaaay, so i was inspired by taylor swift saying "you drew stars around my scars", and also i love slow burns and two idiots silently but obviously pining for each other; SO satoru and reader aren't dating here yet. but they very much do like each other.

also apologies in advance if i messed up any location descriptions :')

enjoy this chaos lol <3

I’m an idiot. 

The curse was dead. The special grade curse you were assigned to kill was dead and you were almost dead. 

As the dissipating remains of the curse mixed with the wind and faded away, you heaved as the blood from the gash across your stomach soaked your dark blue uniform and colored it an even darker shade. Taking a few steps towards the nearest wall, you lean against it, legs buckling and gasping for breath. The light-headedness was growing exponentially and you had to force your eyes to stay open and your legs to stay upright. Blinking rapidly and trying to regain focus, you press one hand to the gaping wound on your abdomen. Red bleeds through your fingers and you feel like you might just pass out. Or die. Or both. 

Feeling liquid drip down your chin, you lift your other hand to the right side of your cheek to assess the source of what you assumed had to be blood. Sure enough, your previously bloodless hand was now stained with sticky crimson. Slowly moving your finger on your cheek to figure out where the blood was coming from you felt a sharp pain when your hand made contact with what seemed to be a pretty large cut. 

Shit. That’s gonna leave a scar.

Your scythe was broken so you had no weapons to worry about carrying back to Jujutsu High. Sluggishly taking your phone out of your uniform pocket you pray to every force you know to let your phone be okay. The black cracked screen stares back at you and the reflection of your worn out, disappointed, and bloodied face is all you see.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me. 

Now the question is whether to go to a hospital and get questioned by non-sorcerers about the horrendous wounds covering your entire body or, to go to Shoko and get patched up and hopefully not get asked too many questions and look like an absolute idiot. 

Shoko will ask questions and she’ll obviously be concerned. If Shoko knows, Satoru and Suguru are bound to find out and they won’t be happy with the higher-ups about this… misjudgment.

So, the hospital sounds better. But the nearest hospital is further from my current location than jujutsu high. 

Your breathing is getting shallower and your head feels so light you feel like it’ll just fall off. Closing your eyes and taking the deepest breath you could take without feeling like your stomach will tear open from the searing pain, you decide.

Fuck it. Shoko it is.

Pushing yourself off the wall with one hand still clutched to your bleeding stomach you start moving towards Jujutsu High. You control your breathing and use every last bit of cursed energy you have left to staunch the bleeding and somewhat ease your pain. With that, you urge your legs to move as fast as physically possible without breaking down.

---

You don’t know how you made it without bleeding out in the middle of the road, but the gates of Jujutsu High have never looked prettier. But, the sight of the stairs was enough to make bile rise to your throat. Swallowing it down and heaving some more, you make your way up the neverending steps of your inevitable doom.

Upon reaching the final step, your legs give out and you fall, wounded cheek first onto the stoned pavement. The pain was like nothing you’ve ever felt before; shooting upwards to your neurons and all the way down your body, right to the tips of your fingers and toes. 

It feels so nice to lie down. No no, get the hell up and go to Shoko. Or all this damn walking would’ve been for absolutely nothing.

Hours was it? Or minutes? You’re not sure but you managed to get back up. After first turning from your side to your back and then bending one leg and then using one hand to help your body up and then finally sitting up. Then at a snail’s pace, managing to stand up on your two feet you start moving towards the morgue, where Shoko spends most of her time anyways. That was your best bet. And if she wasn’t there, well then death seemed like the next best option. 

Slugging your way to the morgue, one hand still clutched to your stomach, you aggressively slap your free hand on the doorknob and turn it with your full body weight on the door. The door swings open and unable to keep your balance, you fall again, right cheek hitting the cold floor for the second time that day. 

All you remember hearing before your eyes finally shut is the sound of a chair screeching on the floor followed by the sound of rapid footsteps and a string of unintelligible words you assumed belonged to Shoko.

---

Darkness. More darkness. Muted voices. Yelling. Some more darkness. Pain.

When you finally open your eyes, everything is a blur. You blink a few times and look around until your eyes find something to focus on. The white walls, the green curtains, and the smell of antiseptic chemicals all lead you to believe you are in the infirmary. Flexing your hands one, two, three times before slowly lifting your right hand up to gently caress your right cheek, you feel the soft cloth of a bandage taped to your skin. Bringing the same hand down to lay it flat upon the blanket covering your abdomen, you apply the slightest bit of pressure down until you feel a slight prick of pain. Lifting the blanket up you tilt your head down to check the situation. You’re wearing a flowy hospital gown and your stomach looks a bit bulky. Feeling around the wound site you realize there’s a bandage there too. Laying your hand back down by your side, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering how you were even alive.

The creaking of the door opening breaks you from your stupor. 

“That was fast. Thought you’d be out for longer,” comes the smooth voice, the smell of cigarettes and that familiar sandalwood sweet perfume you know only belongs to Shoko.

Turning your head to the side you watch her sit down on the chair next to you fiddling with an unlit cigarette and crossing her legs. Her bangs almost cover her left eye and you notice how tired she looks. She sighs and looks at you with a lazy smile, fingers still twirling the cigarette with ease, she asks, “How you feeling?”

You shift and push yourself up to lean your back against the headrest of the bed. With a loud exhale you look back at her with a half-assed smile, “I’m great actually. Good job, doc.” You give her a thumbs up and hope it’ll be enough to squash any more questions she might have.

With her smile still on her face, she looks down at the cigarette and hums, “You know, Gojo was about to unleash hell on the higher-ups for giving you that mission.”

Your smile is immediately replaced with a frown and you feel unbelievably small upon hearing this. With a scowl you ask, “I mean, the mission was a success, wasn’t it?" You shrug, "And I’m fine too so win-win.”

Finally, her smile fades as she stares straight at you; and you think this is the most serious you have ever seen Shoko look, “You could’ve died. That doesn’t seem like “fine” to me. For once I actually agree with Gojo. It wasn’t right of them to assign you on that mission, especially without warning.”

“I’m feeling unbelievably underestimated right now, Shoko,” your voice is small as you fiddle with the seams of the blanket covering the lower half of your body.

Shoko sighs and shakes her head, short hair swishing as she leans forward with her arms on her legs, “I’m not doubting your abilities. No one is doubting your skills. But your wounds were really bad, you know that as well as I do.”

It’s quiet for a bit before you speak again. You look at her downturned head as you reach out your hand to hold hers. Your voice is demure.

“I know. I’m sorry for worrying you, Shoko. But I promise I’m fine. And that’s all thanks to you.” You smile at her as she lifts her head enough to lock her eyes with yours. A smile she doesn’t return but her hand holds yours back and you know she believes you now.

“Yeah well try not to pass out with your intestines all over the floor next time, thanks.”

You laugh. “I promise. I hope you’re joking about the intestines though.”

Shoko huffs a short laugh and lets go of your hand. Bringing the cigarette to her mouth as she stands up she says, “Your cursed energy is the reason that’s a joke. It’s amazing you held out for that long. But don’t get too used to that luck.”

Bringing your hand back to your lap, you watch as she makes her way out and shuts the door. 

Immediately after leaving she pokes her head in again and says one thing before leaving again without waiting for your reply, “Please talk to Gojo and Geto. Go now actually.” 

You sigh and bring down one foot then the other. The light-headedness returns once you stand up but it’s manageable, so you look around for a change of clothes when you find a new uniform folded neatly on the side table next to your bed.

Changing into the new uniform, you make your way out to look for either Satoru or Suguru or if you’re lucky (more so unlucky) both of them.

---

Jujutsu High really is beautiful this time of the season. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom and the campus looks downright ethereal. You think while walking the halls how this place would feel if it were just an ordinary high school and not a place teaching kids how to wield weapons and slay curses. The classrooms would be filled with boisterous students and teachers talking in the courtyard. Canteens with flirting couples and students playing football outside. The gymnasium would hold basketball games with students wearing the school jersey and cheering for the school team. It would be different. It wouldn’t be Jujutsu High, you think.

“Well well, look who’s up and walking already,” the loud, smug voice you know only belongs to one white-haired, blue-eyed boy.

Stopping in your tracks you turn around and stand face to face with Satoru. You give him a sheepish smile and with the sweetest voice you can muster you say, “Hey there Satoru! I was just looking for you!”

Satoru scoffs and walks closer to you. 

"Drop the crap."

Oh shit.

Once close enough to touch you he waits for a few beats staring at your face, eyes locked with yours as he occasionally looks at the bandage on your cheek. He breathes your name.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he seethes.

You groan, exasperated but expecting this reaction. 

“I’m okay, Satoru. I don’t get why this is such a big deal honestly.”

You can see his eyes widen behind his sunglasses with pure rage as he scoffs yet again. His voice gets louder and his arms flail around trying to prove his point, 

“Oh, you don’t get why this is a big deal? Well for starters, you could have died. You’re a semi-first grade, why the hell would you even accept a job to kill a special grade curse?” 

“Okay, I didn’t know it was a special grade. And I killed it, didn’t I? Have some faith in me,” your tone matches his and you glower as you cross your hands across your chest.

He starts pacing back and forth, facepalming himself to oblivion as he goes on a rant,

“Oh my- that’s not the point! It’s not about having faith. You were all messed up and half dead and you could’ve been fully dead and we were almost about to kill those stupid old geezers but then Shoko stopped us and I swear if she didn’t we would’ve actually gone through with it. I mean seriously what the hell-“

You stomp forward mid-rant and grab him by the shoulders, forcing him to stop. Your voice is soft but steady like you’re comforting a child in distress.

“Satoru calm down. I’m okay. The curse is dead. It’s fine. Now please breathe.”

He stares at you through his sunglasses. His chest is heaving and fists are clenched by his sides, not trying to move at all even though he could easily shove you away and continue pacing and ranting.

He dips his head down and exhales deeply, shoulders slanted downwards and breathing slowing down. He moves forward as his arms encircle your body and his head rests on top of yours. Your nose is squished against his chest and you can smell his scent; a mix of sweets, laundry detergent, and his signature scent; the smell of dewdrops and what you assume would probably be some expensive brand of perfume. You relax against him as you breathe him in and your arms move to hug him back. Shifting your head to rest your cheek on his chest you hear his heart beat steadily. You close your eyes and get lost in the feeling of Satoru. 

Neither of you say anything, but say everything at the same time. All his thoughts poured into that one hug, and you silently hear them all as you hug him a bit tighter.

You can feel him gulp as his Adam's apple moves against your forehead. His voice is small and honest as he says, “I would kill them all. If you didn’t wake up, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill them all.”

You know he would, so it’s not really a confession. But it feels like a confession. Satoru would turn the world upside down for the people he loves. You know that too well. 

“I know,” your voice is quiet. You feel so safe in Satoru’s arms. You think it’s so embarrassing how safe you feel whenever you’re with him. You feel like a baby; guard down and vulnerable. You’re sure Satoru feels the same way. You’ve never once seen him keep his Infinity on when he’s with you. 

He hugs you tighter and you can feel his heart rate quicken. He takes a deep breath and exhales as he lets you go and looks at you. You tilt your head up and try to find those cerulean blues hidden behind the shade of his sunglasses. Lifting your hand up to push his glasses up to his head you finally look right into the swirling blues of his eyes. They’re like the ocean. Calm, but with an unmistakable power surging within them. Like the energy you feel in the water right before a wave is formed, the blues in his eyes seem to pulse and flow with power. But they’re also still and serene, and filled with so much emotion. His eyes hold so much more than just power. 

His hand comes up to your bandaged cheek and he slowly takes off one side of the tape and then another until the bandage flaps open. You suddenly feel smaller and even more vulnerable. You haven’t even seen your face with the scar yet (you’re positive there’s a scar). His eyes zone in on the cut as he traces the raised flesh lining the center of your cheek. As his finger runs down the scar, you envision just how large the cut really is; about 3 inches vertical. It didn’t hurt anymore. Shoko really is a fantastic sorcerer, you think. Not moving your eyes from Satoru’s even once, you see the whirlpool of emotions swirl around in those crystal blues. Anger, sadness, worry, relief, adoration, hope.

His jaw clenches as he furrows his brows ever so slightly, fingers moving across your scar with featherlight pressure. Moving his gaze to your eyes, he rests his entire palm against your wounded cheek. Adjusting his hand to hold the side of your face perfectly like two pieces of the same puzzle, his thumb lays on the scar with a gentleness you didn’t know Satoru had. 

It’s so quiet, you can hear your heart pounding in your chest. The occasional breeze and the mellow chirping of birds bring you back to the world, otherwise, you’re positive you’d forget all about the outside world and be content standing in the middle of the hall in Jujutsu High wrapped in Gojo Satoru’s arms. 

You and Satoru were friends. Of course, you loved him, but that love is no different from the love you have for Shoko and Suguru. They’re your home. You’re a family. You know they love you too. 

But right now, it feels different than all the other times Satoru has held you. Held your hand, held your face, hugged you, clumsily threw his lanky arms over your shoulders, ran his fingers through your hair, wiped the blood off your face, flicked you on the forehead, patted you on the head, messed up your hair, rested his head on top of yours. This particular instance feels different. More intimate, perhaps. 

Maybe because you really could’ve died. Your life was hanging by a thread and you don’t seem to understand that. You were so prepared to die, that such a close brush with death’s scythe didn’t affect you in the slightest. This job comes with a guarantee of death. Even though that is life in general; being a jujutsu sorcerer means your days are already numbered. Anytime you embark on a mission, your chances of dying are much higher than your chances of survival. So you always went out on the field with the thought of dying. Knowing you could die and leave everything and everyone behind. But this was the first time you felt you were one step through death’s door. 

You can feel Satoru’s breath on your face, and you think he might kiss you. You keep one hand on his back as you lift the other to hold his wrist near your jaw. As he leans forward you close your eyes bracing for the kiss to reach your lips. But it doesn’t reach the place you were expecting. Instead, the lightest kiss touches your forehead, almost chaste; as he lingers there for a moment and then moves back. 

By now, your heart is racing and you think you’re dreaming. Only when his hands leave you, do you open your eyes and realize this isn’t a dream. 

He exhales as he stands straight, with both hands by his side. Bringing his sunglasses back down, perched on the bridge of his nose, he gives you a small smile, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You try to mask your stunned expression with a smile and nod. 

As he turns to leave he says, “Suguru’s at the gymnasium, probably.”

You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “Alright.”

He walks away and you go in the other direction.

part 2

[just-qonika]

"i really, loved the literature club."

id like to think after monikas "deleted" this is how it feels to look back on everything that happened; she has a guilty conscience once she realizes how far everything got taken, and how bad it really was.

ᵐᵒⁿⁱᵏᵃ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ˢᵒ ᵐⁱˢˢ ᶜʰᵃʳᵃᶜᵗᵉʳⁱᶻᵉᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ⁱᵗ ᴴᵁᴿᵀˢ :⁽ ˢʰᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃⁿ ᵉᵛⁱˡ ʸᵃⁿᵈᵉʳᵉ

[komoboko]

𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

Muichiro tokito x gn!reader ・can be read as platonic or romantic ・heavy angst ・muichiro lives in this scenario hurt no comfort ・major kny spoilers ・major character death

Am I a bundle of joy be honest

The day of your death was something Muichiro didn’t think he would ever forget. Memorization was never his strong suit but he knew this would be something that would haunt him.

He never thought of the possibility of loosing you. He knew the mortality rate in the infinity castle was low, even lower when it came to putting yourself on the front line. He just never thought that you would fall along with the many other slayers that loss their lives that same night. He never thought about coming back home alone, how you wouldn’t be making the journey back to see everybody along with him.

His mind is burnt with the image of your body mutilated, blood poured out of you. There was so much blood, to much where anybody would know you were beyond saving. Uppermoon 1, his ancestor had finally crumbled into dust but at what cost? The cost of you being left to rot on the floor until the castle would crumble and destroy itself underneath its own weight? Why did you have to suffer? Why did you have to leave him behind?

7 days. It’s been 7 days since you died and Muichiro struggles, moving slowly through the stages of grief.

It’s difficult for him to look into any photos that included you. His grief that morphed into anger that he expressed alone in the defeating silence of your room. It hurts him to be in there, the memories of you and your presence weigh him down. He doesn’t want to accept the fact you would never return. That your body would never find peace as it was crumbled and turned to ash. That you had to leave him alone on this earth. It hurt him alot it was difficult for him to handle so much grief. It reminded him of the detain of his brother, a memory he didn’t want to remember either.

Death was something that seemed to follow him. His blood flowed with the remains of the Tsugikuni family lineage. A bloodline that was considered some sort of curse, a force of evil and failure for 500 years. Muichiro only lingers in your room, standing in the middle of the room while his eyes face down on the floor. He didn’t want to look up, be met with photos where your eyes were filled with so much light. He couldn’t find it in him to look at your face, the memory of your body still so fresh inside of his mind. It hurt, a pain he didn’t want to bare.

1 month. It’s been a month since the final night before demons were vanquished. It’s then when muichiro memory problem begins to fail him.

When he looks at flowers his chest stings but he doesn’t know why. He walks past places that feel so familiar to him but he can’t remember why it hurts to be around there. Details about you that used to come to him like second nature slowly seep from his mind. He knows your name, your face, your occupation, your birthday, your death date but after that he doesn’t seem to remember anymore. He knows you but knowing you to such a personal level slowly starts to decline.

Your room is still left untouched despite all of this. Your haori that you left on the bed before you went to the infinity castle still lays there untouched. Everything in place how you left it like you would come back and fix it. It hurts him still to walk in there. A burden in his shoulders, one that he doesn’t know how to get rid of. Death was a heavy weight he’s always has had to carry and he wishes he never had to in the first place.

3 months. Things seem to get worse, Muichiro now begins to question even more about things in his own home.

Your room is some place where he’s filmed with less pain and now more confusion. He looks at the things left inside of your room and wonders why they were there. He stares at pictures of you left in there, he knows who’s in the picture yet he doesn’t know why he has it. He knows it’s you, he remembers you but why were you in his home? Why was there a portrait of you and him together that was left on the counter. Why was there a picture of you left on his bedside table.

He knows he couldn’t forget you, he mustn’t but he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know why you play such a signifiant part in the space taken up in his estate. He doesn’t know why you take up such an important place in his heart. Why it hurts so much to see you, even if you look so happy in the picture he has right next to his bed. Why does somebody make him feel so much pain even if he has yet to see them in so long?

6 months. 6 months has gone by since the final battle and muichiro has changed.

Tanjiro who was fully healed now, took the liberty to go and visit muichiro once again. He’s sent him letters in the mail multiple times in the past but it’s always good to see people in person. Tanjiro was happy to see Muichiro outside of his estate, taking up on his request to go out and grab something to eat. Maybe visit some of the now retired hashira’s along the way.

The boy went to muichiro estate to start their trip. He waited by the door for a minute but it wasn’t long for Muichiro to come and open it. He smiled greeting the long haired boy before taking the liberty to step inside. His eyes follow around to see some things have changed. Furniture has moved around and there was boxes near by the door, what tanjiro had assumed was things he planned to get rid off.

His eyes fall onto one box that catches his attention. He strolls over before leaning down to grab a picture that was left on top of the box. Blowing off the dust that covered the photo he found a picture of you. A smile fell on Tanjiro’s face before he turns to muichiro pointing towards the photo. “They were always such a lovely person weren’t they?” Tanjiro says looking down at the photo catching Muichiro’s attention.

Muichiro only stares at the photo in Tanjiro’s hand. His face blank, a usual expression to be seen on his face. Muichiro stays quiet for a moment before opening his mouth, he only had one thing to say.

“Who?”

[thebad-lydrawn-sanses]

SFX: *CRACK* *BANG*

Nightmare: . . .

Dust: . . .

Nightmare: -

Nightmare: the other door wasn't blocked........

[nachosncheezies]

In defense of late-canon x files (including the revivals)

I was thinking about this poll after I commented on it, and I kinda want to be brave and say more.

Short answer to the poll's question before I go any further: If you're a new fan and a sensitive sort who thinks you'll struggle with your blorbos Really Going Through It and you really need a happy ending, I suggest you stop at the end of season 8. Do not pass go, do not look at spoilers. Disregard this post entirely, close the internet, and go look at something that makes you happy. (Also fuck every part of society that characterizes sensitivity as inherently weak and bad and some kind of personal failing, you are valid.)

That said, "quality" as a concept is entirely subjective, and the question of whether or not there's a decline in quality for any story is wholly subjective, too. In the case of x files? I'm not convinced there is a decline. I am going to be upfront that I haven't yet watched past season 8, though I am almost completely spoiled on events after that - and the reason I haven't watched yet is not because of how I know events are going to unfold, but simply because I don't want it to end!!! Ohh, the tension between "I CAN'T WAIT!!!" and "Nooo don't be over D:"

When I first came to txf fandom on tumblr and gradually became spoiled about what happens in late canon though, I was often left uncomfortable and tbh kinda queasy about it. As I said in my comment on the poll, the hate for especially the revival and IWTB, or to a lesser extent even seasons 8 & 9, is very well documented. But! There are other takes to be found here on tumblr if you figure out where to look, and my feelings have changed!

The thing is, I have yet to find myself in any fandom where there isn't a vocal subset of fans who dislike the story after a certain point. I am not joking when I say that no one hates the things they love as passionately as sci-fi and fantasy fans. In my experience, it often hinges on the extent to which a viewer has strong notions on where they would like the characters to end up. In particular with series where shipping is a dominant component for the bulk of a fandom, I have almost universally found that there comes some turning point in the story where "let them be happy you cowards" is the dominant view, and things that compromise the attainment of a degree of romantic stability and/or domesticity are, to many fans, annoying at best and despicable at worst. But! As one tagset on the linked poll said:

and I think for any fandom, that last tag especially is so so so important. (I think that's harder for people watching a weekly series live, bc you have so much time to analyze and speculate and dream before the next breadcrumb drops, but I digress.)

So why am I saying this and how do I apply it to x files? Well, I eventually found that there are also a subset of fans who find redeeming things right up to the very end and actually quite like the whole thing! The things that I had seen people rage and ventpost so much about honestly never quite sounded to me as "out of character" or "untrue to the story" etc as those same ventposts made them sound. And I've discovered I'm not the only one who felt that way. Do I love that the spooky squad had to go through all of those things? No, those poor guys D: Life is hard and they have been through so much trauma. But do those events and their choices make sense to me in light of everything that came before? Yes! And I honestly can't wait to see them fight to overcome those things, breaking, healing, always learning, always growing, always getting better.

So if you're wondering "where does it go wrong"... well, I'm a completionist, as many people who've answered that post are, but also my personal opinion is that I don't think it does go wrong. If you're new and interested in exploring why I've gone from "vaguely queasy" to "excited" about the whole thing, or want to maybe balance out the impressions you're getting about the later seasons before deciding whether or not you want to see the whole thing, I'll put a few blog names in the comments.

Final admission: even once I started feeling a little more confident in the possibility that "actually ok maybe I'm not crazy, maybe this all kind of is in character and does make sense", there was one big plot point that I was NOT looking forward to and I thought I would never be comfortable about. In hindsight, I think my discomfort came from the negative responses being SO seemingly universal that I hadn't stopped to let myself truly consider other possible interpretations on that point. (I mean my initial instinct when I first read about it was, why are we mad about this?? CSM is literally the most unreliable narrator in history???? it's obviously fake news?????? this must be either a fever dream someone's having or it's a misdirection ploy against whatever shadowy forces might still be lurking?????????????? but for whatever reason I guess I had halfway written that off.) Happily, just last month there's a new post-s11 novel out, and although reviews for the book as a whole are mixed, it seems to have laid the groundwork for resolving that plot issue in a way I think most fans would be broadly happy with. If you're interested in being spoiled about that and seeing how, I recommend searching #perihelion on @agent-troi who liveblogged reading it with receipts, scroll back chronological-style to the first post on the subject and see how it unfolded. (And never forget that Dana Katherine Scully is the queen of denial as a coping mechanism lol)

Everyone's mileage will vary. Each person can feel however they want! But for anyone new, I wanted you to know that the very many ventposts you might be seeing are not all there is to this show or its fandom. Some of us love it despite - or even because of - all the things that went "wrong". I think we just don't talk about it as much.

[lilacwriter07]

Lucifer has so much energy, he sometimes forgot that Lilith and Adam are not angels .

Lilith knows when to take a break and rest, but Adam wanted to keep following Lucifer .

So when Lucifer turned around, he quickly catches Adam as he fell over ."Adam, you need to rest ." He kinda panics as Adam cries ." Noooo I wanna play !" His legs weak and barely keeping his eyes open, Lucifer smiled softly ."I will nap with you ."

"You stay .." Already falling asleep ."Yeah .." Lucifer sighs as he lay Adam down, laying next to him ."I stay ."

LIAR Adam thought as he lay next to Eve in their cave located in the outside world .

[anonymouscheeses]

KK ANGST REQUEST CUZ WHY NOT

Pomni and Ragatha hanahaki stuff cuz yes

[If you don't know what it is here's a short definition of it:

A fictional illness in which a person in love with someone begans to cough up flower petals at the start and then as their feelings get uncontrollable or more intense they began coughing up full on flowers and sometimes blood on the flowers.

The cure is getting those feelings reciprocated from that person's crush]

Kk that's all and I hope the definition helped (if not more on Google exists)

DONT LOOK IF YOU DONT WANNA BE SAD!

My hand slipped.

[aeymii]

Unrequited

[whumpypepsigal]

“[On where Tim was coming from] I think Bradford probably perceives it as the most loving action he can take in that moment because he's also self-flagellating and thinking that he is a not very desirable human being — given his history that has resurfaced that he was trying to bury, but is irrepressible and has reappeared and put so much at risk, including the person that he loves.” — source

+bonus:

@kat-rose-griffith:

[happyk44]

thinking abt a version of hoo where nico puts almost as much effort into avoiding jason that he does with percy. idk maybe a different couple falls in hoh. or no one does or they find and save nico earlier on in the book, but either way nico flinches when jason gets close and recoils from percy and everyone is just like "hmm, maybe he doesn't like his cousins?"

but nah he recoils from percy because his crush was a flagrant nightmare for him down in tartarus and his comatose state, a constant laugh of percy coming to save everyone else but not nico because "he's not worth it". it's not percy's fault, nico isn't ashamed of who or how he loves but it's hard to see percy the same way without the torture and nightmares outlining his frame

and he flinches away from jason because he got to reexperience over and over again his mom's death, the deaths of his half-siblings at the hands of their fearful skyborn cousins. jason's soul is too similar to zeus', bright yellow and painfully loud. electrically charged around the edges. nico's skin ache as his body remembers the pain he felt, the burning, the seizure of his muscles, when his mother died. always so tapped into his family, so sensitive to the souls around him - it just ricocheted back at him.

he chokes on the ghostly taste of his own blood from nightmares when percy's around and burns from the phantom sense of electrocution when jason flits by. jason is kind and it feels like a trap. percy is concerned and it feels like a trap.

it's not. he knows it's not. but he has history and fear on his side. as soon as it's all over, he's headed for the underground. settling in deep like a corpse six feet under. they can't get him there.

[fandomrouletteburrito]

Yknow if Fyodor was all that(if he really wanted to test Dazai) then he would’ve had Chuuya use corruption while he was a safe distance away and had Dazai watch

[minzis]

I’ll Crawl Home To Her

✦❘༻Summary: Keegan’s finally back from one of the longest deployments he’s had since you’ve been together. Since the last time you spoke the gap between you was only furthering by the day.

✦❘༻Tags: Angst turned to comfort? 1.3k words.

✦❘༻A/N: This fic is based off ‘Work Song,’ by Hozier :3

•┈୨♡୧┈•

His loud footsteps followed the slam of the front door. You rose in excitement rushing towards the door. "Keegan?" You called his name out with a bright smile on your face. It had been months since you've seen each other. A long aching 6 month deployment, you stood a few feet in-front of him as he stayed near the doorway. He wasn't smiling with his usual wide grin. He wasn't scooping you up in his arms kissing at you like his life depended on it.

He was standing there bags on the floor with a grim look on his face. What was worse then it all something told you that the sadness in his face was meant for you. As if you had done him wrong and tore him apart mercilessly. Your hand clung at your chest, shirt wrinkling between your fingers as if it would sooth the sudden pangs in your heart.

It was hurting in a way you weren’t sure you could fix, racing erratically. The pounding in your chest that was almost deafening. You weren’t sure if you should reach for him asking what had happened? What you must’ve done so damning or was this it?

He’s finally going to say it wasn’t he? You stiffened under his gaze as you broke apart, praying the the words would never come. ‘I want to break up,’ you knew it was coming the signs were continuous. Your heart couldn’t take it, you were going to say no. Beg him to stay, beg him too love you one more time. Your eyes watered at the thought of him leaving of that door and never coming back and it only furthered the pain.

You bit down on your lip harshly the taste of metallic coating your tongue as you remembered the last time you two were face to face. You yelled, he yelled, a screaming match between who could be the loudest. It was a stupid fucking argument hell you couldn’t even remember why you were ever mad at him in the first damn place.

The thought of pleading, even begging for forgiveness of the words you hardly remember saying during the argument. You knew you didn’t mean them. A lump formed in your throat as you choked back a sob. He stared at you with an expression you’ve never seen him make. You blinked back the tears that threatened to fall at any moment choosing to speak before he could.

“Don’t leave me.”

“Why didn’t you reply to my letters?”

Your voices lapped over each other both looking up at the same time surprised by the other. Both sounding like desperate pleads. “Letters?” it was a one worded question as you looked over him stepping closer. “I wrote you every week? And you never replied!?” He was shaking, his voice sounded pained as he spoke. Letters? There were letters, “you wrote me?” It was a question but one for yourself as you tried to understand the situation. Nearly feeling sick as you replayed every scenario over in your head.

“Keegan what letters?” Another question this time for him, he looked confused as if you were simply trying to joke. You shook your head almost silently confirming his thoughts, “Y/n do you know how many times I wrote you?” He was tapping at his chest almost laced with anger but it never reached you like he was angry with himself. “I poured every ounce of my being into those letters and you never replied?” Rhetorical, spoken in hints of disbelief. Desperation, his hands clinging and pulling at his own hair.

You felt a sense of relief wash over you one that hoped he was still your Keegan. Yet it was quickly formed into a panic, there were letters you never received. Days upon weeks he sat in a stillness that you were ignoring him. He never called cause he was writing instead, his assumptions that he was losing you. Just as you felt you were losing him.

“I never received any letters, I-I thought you-,” your voice crumbled once more, the thought he didn’t love you itching at your brain. The sinking feeling in your chest that never went away as you used to think over the years you’ve spent together. Laughter echoing in the memories of what us used to feel like. “I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” you choked out looking over his confused eyes.

“You never got any letters?” He questioned in seriousness grabbing at your hands, he looked relieved? Despite the months of pain and anguish at the aching thoughts of coming home to an empty house. A cold house without you to keep it warm. Levels of fear he had only know when it came to the thought of losing you. He let out a chuckle hoping it’d sooth his own pains. You shook your head at his question clinging your arms at his waist.

“I’m telling you I never got any letters,” you clawed at him hoping for all the things he’s heard you say he’d believe this one. That he would understand you would never purposely put him through what must’ve felt like hell. How many times he asked if he had any mail, an answer that always remained the same further crushing his beliefs of being happy with you.

“I don’t know wether to be relieved or upset,” he laughed weakly as you rested your head on his chest. The restlessness left your body as you felt a sense that you and him were going to be fine. “I thought I lost you and that you didn’t want-,” he didn’t even allow you to finish the sentence cutting you off his hands moving too your face.

The warmth of his hands soaking through as they always used too. How they always should be, “Y/n, l’ve never love someone as much as I love you." His voice paused as it seemed he was choking back his own cries. “You are who I live and breath for, the person who keeps my heart beating so don’t you ever dare think that I could ever stop loving you,” you sniffled in repose unable to stop the tears any longer. His hands pulled at yours placing it over his heart. “You feel that? It’s yours, all yours and it will only ever be yours. I will never be capable of loving someone that isn’t you.” His heart raced underneath your palm as your cries turned into sobs.

“I love you more than words will ever describe,” your voice cracked and splintered as the words poured out from you. “And it frightens me Keegan,” your heart whispered sitting open on a platter coated in prays he wouldn’t drop it. Wishes that he’d only ever love you and you alone for the rest of your lives.

The man who you wanted to grow old with, each grey hairs showing the years you’ve spent together. How could you ever dare to think he didn’t love you? As if he’d ever give up on being with you. He kissed the top of your forehead, his fingers wiping at your tears. He was trembling as he held you, his chin resting up on top of your head. Scared is what he had been all them months, scared of loosing the last thing he’d ever care for more than himself.

“I love you,” he repeated once more to make sure you heard, that you knew. You could only cry harder with this shaking feeling it was suddenly going to up and disappear. “Promise, I need you to promise me you’ll always come back through that door,” your fingers dug at the edges of his jacket in fear he’d still change his mind. “Always and forever,” he whispered.

[slavhew]

always covered in your tears and their blood.

[fujunfuren]

FIREWORKS OF MY HEART (2023)