#as in 'i might put it back in the hospital'

[ceruleancattail]

Hey ! I just had an idea for your mystic animals au- imagine, the reader go to war without saying it to Malleus, Lilia and Idia, and the next time they saw them it's when they are at the hospital or still fighting, and they are badly injured (like, really badly injured. Like they will die if they aren't heal)

Sorry for the bad english, it's not my first language.

Have a great day/night !

Malleus doesn’t say a word.

He’s unusually calm, running a slow hand across your wounds. Gently caressing your hand with his thumb, humming to you softly. A tune you don’t recognise, yet it is soothing all the same. Like a familiar lullaby you heard once, a long, long time ago. A gentle tune that somehow makes your eyes weary, your tired body giving way to the darkness of slumber, slipping into the night.

Malleus holds your hand until you fall asleep, head dropping back onto your pillow. Before he slips his arms under your slumbering form, lifting you up. Cradling you close to his chest, sighing deeply into your hair. Nuzzling into you, sighing into that ever so familiar warmth.

With a flick of his wrist, all the tubes connected to you drop, needles clattering onto the ground. Pardon Malleus’ distrust, but since humans haven’t achieved the longevity of his kind, he doesn’t have too much faith in the inventions of mankind.

You won’t die here. He won’t allow it. He doesn’t want to be alone. Not again.

Perhaps there’s someone in the Diasonmia clan who’s accomplished in healing magic. Or there might be some arcane way to restore your life in the old texts. Oh, there was that movie both of you watched once. Something about the people being transferred to the future in a chemically induced sleep. There might be some truth in that story… and Malleus is adept at putting you to sleep.

A luxurious bed shouldn’t be too hard to find. He’ll lay you down in the sacred halls of Diasonmia, and he’ll create a bed for you amidst the thorns. Looking at you asleep soundly like this, your face utterly relaxed… it’s almost as if everything was normal, hm?

Like one of those nights you’ve called for him, your sleep plagued with nightmares. You’ve often asked for his company, those lonely nights. Holding his hand until you drift off into the land of dreams. Now, he’ll stay right by your side until you wake up. If you wake up… no. You must awaken.

No matter how badly you’re injured, Malleus refuses to accept this outcome, and he’ll struggle against it for all that he’s worth.

Until the moment you’re gone, he’ll never truly accept it. Maybe he doesn’t, even then. You are his Master, after all.

He’ll believe in you, until his last breath.

Lilia’s lying right next to you.

The moment he sees your battered body on that hospital bed, his gaze is overflowing with concern. Watching fluids of some sort flow into your arms, a steady mechanical beat beeping shrilly every second. Beeping along to the pace of your heart rate, following every rise and fall of your chest. Lilia’s devastated, to say the least. Yet he’s skilled enough not to let it show. Instead, he gently coaxes you aside, sliding under the covers beside you.

Honestly, why would you go to battle all on your lonesome? Only a fool would do that… a brave fool, nonetheless. Lilia pokes your nose softly, sighing softly. His warm breath wafting against your lips. Master, did you really think of him as a fragile being? As old as he constantly says he is, he’s still rather capable of razing down a few battlefields in your name.

Although you wouldn’t have accepted that sort of victory. You were always a honourable one, insisting that your victories should be seized by your own two hands and your effort. Lilia admired that part of you, truly.

You were a flame, burning away with determination, so bright that sometimes he couldn’t look at you directly. Perhaps that was why your touch was so warm. It comforted him, did you know that? Your presence, your voice, your touch… it meant everything to Lilia.

Shifting a little closer, Lilia’s arms snake around your torso, holding you gently. He’s a little hesitant at first, but unless you object, he’s going to embrace you. Coaxing your back towards the curve of his chest, gently slipping his legs around yours. Lilia’s head rests at your neck, every one of his breaths tickling the nape of your neck.

He squeezes you affectionately, timing each one of his hugs to your heartbeat. It beat feebly against his chest, one beat at the time. A steady, soft rhythm thumping against his very skin. His pulse slowed, as if to match yours. Lilia holds you as tightly as he dared, holding his breath whenever you went still, then exhaling as you took another breath.

For that moment, you weren’t quite dead yet. Thank the Great Seven, Lilia was allowed to hold your slumbering form for another second more. Master, you’re really a piece of work.

You wouldn’t allow him to follow you to the battlefield. And now, you’re threatening to slip away from the land of the living?

Please master, don’t be as cruel as to go somewhere Lilia cannot follow.

Idia clutches at your hands.

It’s almost desperate, the way he holds them. The way his own fingers tremble and shake, the way his jagged nails dig into your flesh, carving red crescents into your skin. He’ll let up the very moment you wince in pain, muttering apology after apology under his breath.

Even then, his voice quakes, lips trembling. Idia’s brows are frowned, his mind racing a million miles per second. Thinking about every possible scenario that could happen, each one growing more and more morbid after the next. Idia can’t help it. When he’s greeted by a problem in life, he’s immediately calculating the odds, going through every possible scenario to clear this stage without expanding too much effort.

Yet he can’t exactly do that now. You see, it’s you. You’re his master, his player two…. You’re his, as much as he is yours. Idia doesn’t want to lose another person so dear to his heart, not again.

Idia’s staying by your side in the hospital, night and day. Never leaving your side for a moment, his hand intertwined with yours. Constantly tugging your blanket just a few inches to the right, to the left. He has a corner pinched in his other hand, twisting and turning it over and over again in his fingers. If only to have something he can control in this messed up situation.

Why didn’t you summon him? Why? Was he not good enough for you? Did he disappoint you somehow? Were you just so disgusted with him to the point you couldn’t even stand his face? Idia spirals into negativity, his brain collapsing under the sheer depressive pressure he’s putting into it. Even if the truth is otherwise, Idia’s beating himself up about it.

He blames you, honestly. Only a total idiot goes into battle without their familiars. He hates that you left him behind without so much as a word. He hates that you got hurt and he could do nothing about it. He hates how you look like now, lying down, beaten black and blue.

But try as he did, Idia just can’t find it in himself to hate you.

His fingers caressing the back of your palm softly, Idia stares into your face again. The face he’s seen contorted into a million emotions. Your stupidly smug smirk when you beat him in a game after a thousand tries, the way your eyebrows frowned in annoyance when he plays a little prank on you, all of these remain as deeply etched in his memory as it was the very days he saw these expressions.

But his favourite one was your smile. If he closed his eyes, it’ll float up into his mind’s eye in the highest resolution a memory could be. A soft, radiant thing, filled with pure joy. A gentle light, embracing him, guiding him out of the pitch-black abyss of his overwhelming thoughts.

Idia squeezes your hand once more, staring silently at your face.

Praying that you’ll smile at him once more.

[notafragilething]

Late Night Buck & Tommy Rambles: Vertigo Week

Happy Sunday evening. I'm on the cusp of an insanely busy week but I wanted to spend my last calm evening sharing some of my thoughts on Buck and Tommy with all of you. So let's get into the highlights of the weekend.

Let's start with the hospital kiss Instagram reels data. Right now the video is at 921k and 83k in likes. It did get passed by the Happy Birthday Gavin post but who can blame that. But strangely enough, it still holds the 9th overall place because the video of Oliver making a basket on set of episode 4 is now gone. I'm really not sure what happened to that one. With that said, there is now only a 26k difference between it and video 8 and I do think at some point in the coming weeks it will pass that. I'm probably not going to be checking this everyday anymore since the views has slowed so much (which is to be expected). I'll probably check in once a week until it hits a million or until another Tevan reel is posted.

The Vertigo Poster nonsense that happened late last night and early this morning. I already made a post talking about this here so please go check that out if you want to know my thoughts on it. But to quickly summarize: it was made by a friend and posted on Tim's private Facebook. I'm not personally going to be putting much thought into it or using it for any theories because I don't think there is anything more to it then being a fun spoof poster made by a friend.

After seeing the second round of interviews with Ryan coming out on Friday I am now fully confident that marketing is doing a hard-kill on pushing Buddie. I was predicting this in my last ramble but now I'm fairly confident I was right. Ryan repeatedly hit the same key points in multiple interviews by explicitly saying that Eddie is straight. At this point, that seems to be intentional and seemed to be a talking point that marketing wanted out there. There also seemed to be far less buddie questions so I'm fairly sure they're not approving or limiting how many interviewers can ask.

Next weeks episode prediction: We will not be seeing Tommy...and possibly not Eddie or Buck. The summary only focuses on Bobby's storyline and the preview only showed him (and Athena). This might be an episode where the rest of the cast isn't there and is solely focused on what is happening with Bobby and Athena. If it does include the rest of the cast, it looks like there only going to appear in very short segments and are definitely not the focus. Which does mean the Eddie storyline is either on pause for next week or marketing is really, really killing anything involving Buck or Eddie.

Final thoughts: I don't predict anymore interviews with Oliver or Lou until the finale. Probably not anymore for Ryan either that haven't already been done. Marketing in general seems to have massively pulled back after the mess with the bachelor party. I think we won't get anything about this week until Thursday (just like last week).

[jrow]

May Prompts (12)

Day 11 here.

Family

It’s funny the degree to which having a real family shifted his priorities.

Maybe not funny, but surprising. At least to him.

His entire life, family had felt like an obligation more than anything else. His mother meant well, but she didn’t really know how to parent. His dad was a drunk arsehole. And the least said about Harry the better.

No wonder he’d ended up fighting in a war across the world.

Obligation was exactly how Mary had felt at the end. But despite his spiral after her death (and the resulting piss poor parenting that took all the worst elements from his own parents style), his love for Rosie had been fierce and unwavering. She hadn’t been an obligation, but a gift he didn’t deserve. She got him through.

Well, her and Sherlock. Once John finally let himself acknowledge that Sherlock had become like family himself, things slowly got easier. John was happier. Suddenly, family was love.

But, that can complicate things at times. Balancing the wants and needs of the two members of his family against each other and his own.

Sherlock has been here with him at the hospital all day. After Sherlock first arrived this morning, they spent about a half hour talking about what happened. The thief, the chase, John’s fall. Not surprising, really, given their choice of profession. Although perhaps a bit of a wake up call. John isn’t as young as he used to be, and now he has a child to consider.

John had also hoped to talk about the intruder and see if Sherlock had any theories. He promptly fell asleep instead. And slept for over six hours. Understandable maybe, but embarrassing all the same.

Sherlock was still there when he woke up. John is fairly certain the man never left his bedside. And for twenty minutes, they have been discussing the intruder—the evidence gathered so far (limited, much to Sherlock’s hilarious annoyance) and theories on motives. It’s wonderful and John hates to cut it short, but he knows he must.

Molly would likely agree to pick up Rosie from nursery. Mrs. Hudson too. But they’ve never done it before and, under the circumstances, that will scare Rosie. Right now her comfort takes precedence over John’s and Sherlock’s wants and needs.

Sherlock is currently ranting about security measures in the hospital. To be honest, John stopped paying attention to the details a couple minutes ago. He opens his mouth to interrupt, but is beaten to the punch when Sherlock stops abruptly and stands up.

“Sorry, John. I need to head to the nursery now. If I pick up Rosie a bit early, there will be time for a short visit here for. The timing will be perfect for her tea.” He puts on his coat. “The cafeteria has cut fruit, goldfish, yogurt, and some rather boring pasta dishes that she’ll probably like. It should be sufficient.”

John finds himself smiling broadly. “You are going to get Rosie.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes and the sight warms John’s insides. “Of course, I am getting Rosie. This will be a very stressful time for little Watson. After our visit here, I will take her home and put her to bed. Molly has agreed to spend the night at your house again so I can leave.”

“Oh yes, of course,” John says. “You’ll be wanting to get back to Baker street.”

Sherlock looks at John like he’s the biggest idiot in the world. It’s ridiculous how much John loves that look. “I’m coming back here, John. Why would I go to Baker Street?” He shakes his head and makes his way to the door. “Do sleep now, so we can continue working tonight. Gerald has managed to finagle his way on to the case, so the Yard may actually prove helpful. He will be coming by at 9 to go over what little evidence they have.” He pauses. “Don’t tell Gerald I said he might be useful.”

John chuckles. “I believe visiting hours end at 8.”

“That doesn’t apply to you,” Sherlock says with a dismissive wave. John doesn’t doubt it.

And with that, Sherlock is gone. But, soon to return with Rosie in tow. John smiles to himself. This family thing is pretty great. He doesn’t deserve her. Doesn’t deserve them.

Despite his injuries, he’s one lucky bastard.

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @quimerasyutopias @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels

[mikobeautifulheart]

JJK men when you accidently cut yourself (but they didn't know)

TW: little mentions of blood but not alot, a little bit of angst. And unedited.

INCLUDING: YUJI AND Megumi

-Yuji-

"I'm back" Yuji said, dragging his feet along the floor.

It's been a busy week for both of you. So busy that Yuji dosent even remember the last time you've even had a proper conversation.

To hell with the shower he thought standing over your plesantly sleeping form calmly breathing. Slowly he kicked his shoes off to the side and slipped his uniform jacket off and laid down on the bed next to you.

You let out a small groan as you felt the bed shift and slowly came out of your sleep.

"Yuji..." You mumbled.

"Yeah" He said tiredly.

You sighed in relife that he was finally back

Yuji slowly it his arm around your side before noticing how damp the blanket on you was. He took just arm off and switched on the bed side light making you put your head under the pillow.

At first Yuji just thought he was tiered but then he blinked again to see that it was real, the blanket was soaked in blood.

"Y/n? Y/N? Wake up" he pulled the blanket off you to see a blood soaked bandage on your arm.

Right away he had the first adi kit and helped you sit up on the edge of the bed.

"Sorry Yuji, didn't mean to panic you, it's the last thing you need right now." You sighed putting your other arm up to your face to shield tour eyes from the light.

"I can't believe you weren't going to tell me! Y/n if your injured you need to see Shoko or at least go to a hospital" He said making sure to not apply the bandage to tight or to lose.

"You've been working all week and and youre exhausted to, Yuji look at your hands, youuve got little cuts on them, you should at least put a band-aid on them." You frowned

"Your the one to talk, with a losey bandaged cut arm. And no matter what happens I'm always putting you first." He said finally finishing up.

" Tommorow morning I'm taking you to Shoko." He said before throwing g the blanket in the wash and getting new ones.

That night he woke up every few hours to check your arm and to see if he might accidently touch it before carefully moving his arm away from it.

-Megumi-

You pushed your dorm door open and stumbled into the room, one hand clutching your side and the other practically dragging you around. You managed to take off one of your shoes before looking behind you to see your boyfried lazily dressed.

"y/n? Are you okay?" He walked over and crouched down infront of you, starting to untie your other shoe.

As soon as he carefully took it off you shot up and tried to stumble away from him.

"Wait, y/n is something wrong?" He asked, arms put streached to grab you.

"I'm grea-" you tripped over your own foot while trying to escape Megumi.

"-T" you hissed you felt Megumis arm wrapped around you, saving you from the fall.

Your breaths became fast as he slowly (practically carried you) to the couch.

You gasped for air as soon as you sat down.

"Y/N? What's going on??" Megumi asked concerned with your behaviour.

You moved your arm away from you side, shooting pain through your body when the pressure was released.

"You were right Megumi, I'm weak, I wasn't strong enough and now I have a gaping hole on my body." Tears welled up. You weren't sure if it was from the pain or the feeling of being to weak.

Within a second Megumi had you comfortably sat up on the couch while working his way round round your wound, cleaning it with cotton.

"I never said you were weak y/n, because your not. I said if you keep working yourself to much with out resting you'll become weaker, we all have our limits." He put the cotton down and started to wrap the bandage around your torso.

You looked down the other way feeling guilty that he had to deal with your mistake..your mess.

"I'm sorry" you said

"Don't be. You shouldn't be sorry. At the end of the day you helped people and your still alive, just be more careful okay?" He finished bandaging you before kissing it gently.

THANK YOU FOR READING ♡

AUTHOURS NOTE: Tehehe need to get back into writing so send some requests.

[breakfastteatime]

Today's Survivor request is for @minpage - Laundry.

“Alright, kid, hand ‘em over.”

Cal stares at Greez, trying to pick up what he’s putting down. It’s no good. “What?”

Greez makes a ‘gimmie’ motion with all his hands – flesh and mechanical. “Gimmie your bloody, dusty, guts-stained clothes. I gotta do a load of laundry as it is, so might as well add your stuff to it.”

“I don’t… I don’t have anything to change into,” Cal admits. He barely keeps from scuffing the toes of one boot back and forth. “I left everything on the Mantis.”

“Not everything.” Greez nods to a section of the clothes rack containing (an alarming number of) his old flight suits. “See the cubby on the top? You’ll find what you need in there.”

Curious now, Cal reaches, wincing as something grinds in his shoulder. One of these days something in that joint is going to tear, and then he’ll really be in trouble. His hand finds something soft, and he pulls out a set of old sweats. His old sweats. The ones bearing the Briove Albion zero-g football team logo. They went to a game years ago and Greez bought sweeats for him, insisting everyone needed to own at least one piece of sporting memorabilia. Merrin got a set too. Cere, it turned out, had a shirt for Briove’s biggest rival team, Diamond Castle.

“Get changed and leave everything you’re wearing outside the door,” Greez says. “I’ll grab it later.”

“I feel bad,” Cal says, shrugging out of his jacket. “I turn up and you start working.”

Some things never change, BD muses.

“It’s all good, kid,” Greez says. “Besides, what will people think of my hospitality if you go back out there looking like that?”  

Cal looks down at himself, sees the grime of travel and the scars of battle. He smiles, feels how faint it is. “Can’t have that,” he murmurs.

“Exactly. So, get changed and get some sleep. We’ll worry about a shower in the morning.”

He’s saying you smell, BD comments helpfully.

“Thanks, BD, I get it.”

“And have this.” Greez leaves a medkit on the bed.

“Which one of us is the Jedi again?” It’s a weak joke.

“Forgot how well I know you, huh?”

“Never.”

“Go on, get some rest.”

Greez heads out. Cal carefully (painfully) sheds his layers. He applies a couple layers of bacta, pops a couple of painkillers at BD’s insistence, gathers up his clothes and dumps them outside his door. Rolling into bed, Cal closes his eyes.

Feels good to be home.

[melodramamatic]

I've read a few modern AUs for MDZS and a lot of them try to translate the golden core-transplant surgery into like, an organ transplant. And that really doesn't capture nearly the emotional complexity of the situation.

Like. The golden core isn't something that's going to kill him to lose. Yeah Jiang Cheng is fucked up, but he's also just lost his parents and all the people he's grown up feeling responsible for and been tortured (and presumably been tortured in front of their corpses). He's got a lot of reasons to be fucked up. The loss of his golden core wasn't going to necessarily kill him, but it likely would have prevented him from being the one to lead the rebuilding of the Jiang sect and fight at the level he felt necessary to avenge his sect. (but i'm getting off topic, other people have written some interesting AUs about that)

Plus, there's a major spiritual component to consider. I'm way too white-american to pick up on nearly enough of the spiritual and cultural references and subtext, but a few people have made enough comparisons that I can sort of grasp the idea that the golden core is a semi-physical representation of the soul. There isn't really a good organ transplant analogy for having someone destroy an aspect of your soul, then getting a new one or rebuilding your old one via secret medical technique, then finding out your foster brother secretly implanted you with his in an experimental procedure. Organs really don't compare.

More upsetting discussion topics under cut.

The context of the transplant also doesn't translate. the Yunmeng trio witness something horrible happen to their family, narrowly escape, then Jiang Cheng intentionally puts himself in the path of the horrible thing to prevent it from getting his brother, but Wei Wuxian is left thinking it's bad luck/an accident/Jiang Cheng going back for his parents' bodies, rescues his traumatized brother, and responds to that trauma in the most extreme way possible. Like, without the traumatic destruction of Yunmeng Jiang and Jiang Cheng drawing off the Wen to protect Wei Wuxian, you lose the entire setup for the loss of his golden core. Some sort of car-accident/organ-donation/family-drama combo doesn't nearly get the emotional context. I think I saw a fic where the Yunmeng Jiang are rich and the Wen were a mob family that went after them? That probably came the closest in terms of emotional setup.

And then there's the experimental, never-been-done, the patient-did-not-consent aspect of the transfer. The fact that Wei Wuxian agreed to something that might kill him, and probably could have killed Jiang Cheng. That it hadn't been tested, and was only a theory Wen Qing had. For all that there is an aspect of risk, organ donations are known procedures; and I don't pretend to know a lot about hospitals but I do know if the patient can't give consent, their next of kin has to. Any kind of modern setting with even a semi-legit hospital setup would shatter my suspension of disbelief. It's not going to happen without several lawsuits, someone getting a medical license revoked, and possibly an arrest. (At least, I hope nothing comparable would happen, but the US medical system is a shitshow.)

In a modern AU, the best translation for being blindfolded, lied to by someone you trusted, and then having someone you thought was someone else put something inside your body that you didn't consent to or consented to under very misleading circumstances... isn't an organ donation. The violation of bodily autonomy, the violation of trust, the lack of consent. Yes, I am 100% arguing the canonical golden core transfer is comparable to s3.xual assault. Justifying it with the argument that 'it's for his own good' would even push the comparison toward what's called 'corrective r@pe'. What Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing was horrific and they justified it by saying it was for the best and he needed it to rebuild the sect and avenge his family. Wen Ning also went along with it. It makes me nauseous. There is no good way to translate this into a modern setting.

TL;DR: I'm not saying you can't write a mdzs modern AU, I personally enjoy them, but I am saying that referencing the golden core transfer with comparisons to an organ donation really doesn't cover it and whitewashes what Jiang Cheng went through.

[killsatoru]

Part Two : Mistakes With Rings: Gojo Satoru

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x fem! reader

Warning(s) : Cursing, Death, reader is a Itadori

Summary : Thrown into a loveless marriage, but what happens when your husband asks you for an open marriage?

Part One

-

Our honeymoon. Was empty. only a small smile was exchanged through the whole trip. no hand holding, no hugging, no kissing.

Nothing.

Absolutely Nothing.

-

Back home the arrangements were set to live together.

Was it so weird for a married couple to live apart?

“We can have separate rooms.”

“Ok.” What else was I supposed to say?

Isn’t sleeping in separate rooms also weird?

In a cold empty room. Which was once a guest room. Now, it was called my room.

Sigh

The maids whisper among themselves.

“Poor Mrs. Gojo!”

“How can Mr. Gojo be so cruel!”

“I heard they were arranged.”

“I heard Mr. Gojo might have a mistress already!”

“Poor Mrs. Gojo…”

-

“Y/N!” My older brothers call out

“Jin. Sukuna. It’s nice to see you two.”

“What’s with the long face? Is it that asshole!? I swear I'll ruin that pretty face of his!” A stern look comes across my brother’s face

laughing

“No! No it’s not him I just miss you guys! How is Yuji by the way, Jin? changing the subject is for the best

“He’s amazing! Wanna see some pictures!” pulling out his phone to show pictures

“That brat! He has too much energy! I say we put him in a sport!” A proud smirk on his face

“Maybe putting him in basketball! or even Baseball!” I suggest excitedly.

-

“Bye Y/N! Take care, say hi to Satoru for me!”

“Tell him he better be treating you right!”

“I will, bye you two take care!”

To think that would be the last time all three of us would ever be together.

-

While taking a walk around the large garden. My phone goes off.

Ring Ring Ring

A hospital?

‘Strange, why would a hospital call me?’

“Hello?”

“Yes, This is Y/N Itadori.”

The world Spinning. The urge to puke was strong. The tears slipped out. My breathing out of control.

“I’ll be there shortly” sprinting inside passing by the maids in the kitchen and living.

There Gojo Satoru stood blocking my exit.

“Hey Y/N-“

Running past him.

Ignoring Gojo. Running to my car. was I even in the right headspace to drive. It doesn’t matter. I need to be there.

-

Sprinting to the counter

“I am here to see Jin Itadori. He’s my brother.”

-

“Y/N.” placing his head between his hands.

“Father. how is he.” Fear laced in my voice

“Y/N. I am so sorry. I am so sorry” Trembling.

In the years I have been alive, my father had never cried in front of me.

In the years I have been alive I would've never thought this day would come. Especially not like this.

“Jin is dead”

-

To think I would be burying my brother this early.

My nephew Yuji Itadori is still too young. why? Jin, why?

“Y/N. Let’s go.” My brother Sukuna pulled me away and took me to a house that wasn’t my home. to a man that wasn’t mine.

-

“You should eat Mrs. Gojo.” all the maids gave me concern looks

It had already been 2 weeks. Yuji in a week will be under my care. I have to guide him through all of this.

Haven’t seen my husband. Haven’t eaten well. Haven’t slept well either.

Moving out of this unreasonably huge house. is for the better. Maybe a small apartment with just Yuji and I, will clear my head. To avoid seeing the maids that take pity on me. To avoid seeing my Husband.

-

I grew the courage to call Gojo.

‘If I don’t do this now. I’ll never do it.’

“Gojo, I wish to speak to you.”

“You are speaking to me right now go ahead”

“In person. This is important.”

Sigh “Fine, I'm almost done with work, i’ll be there soon.”

-

“What is it that you wish to speak about?” his voice was demanding. annoyed even.

Now seated in the living room. The maids long gone. The only noise in the house is the faint sound of the television.

“I wish to move out.” Trying to sound as nonchalant as possible

“What! why?” Irritation seeping into his voice

“This house is too big for me. I wish to move to an apartment. I am just telling you, so that you don’t think I ran away.”

“So it doesn’t matter if I say no.”

“Then I guess you can consider it as running away then.”

“Fine. If that is what you want.”

-

“AUNTIEEE” A little boy running to me with sparkles in his eyes

“MY LOVEEE!” embracing him, drowning him in kisses

Giggling “Auntie Auntie! Am I really going to live with you!”

Putting on a front. He’s still too young. I won’t ruin his childhood. When he’s older i’ll tell him. But for now i’ll do this.

“Yes, my love! we’ll have so much fun together!”

“YAYYY! I can’t wait! will uncle Sukuna visit us!”

“Yes he’ll come from time to time!”

-

I am away from the man who has the label as my husband. Who has given me his last name. where the only kiss and embrace we have shared thus far was at our wedding ceremony.

-

4 Years have passed now.

4 years since my brother passed away.

4 years since I've moved out of that suffocating house.

Within that span of that time I haven’t seen that man much. We’ve only seen eachother because we work in the same company, not because of our own will.

Though we are married. I never fully claimed the last name he gave me. I don’t claim myself as Gojo. only Itadori.

From what I've seen he doesn’t wear his wedding ring.

So I don’t wear mine.

-

Ring Ring Ring

“Itadori Speaking”

“Ms. Itadori! The meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Fushiguro isn’t going well. They need back up.”

“I’m on my way.”

-

“Heard they sent back up for us.”

“He was so pissed for no reason ugh” Massaging her temple

“I hate people like him. so stuck up for no reason.”

The clicking of heels can be heard echoing through the hallway. In one hand was documents of what Mr. and Mrs. Fushiguro will be agreeing on once entering the room.

“You three wait in the car. I got it from here.”

“WHOA! Ms. Itadori is amazing!”

“A total lifesaver!”

“A true angel!”

30 minutes have passed.

“Do you think everything’s alright in there?”

“If we don’t get the agreement Mr. Gojo will be mad!”

“Ugh, hopefully everything is going well.”

Tap Tap

“It went well! Don’t worry i’ll be the one meeting Mr. Gojo, you three.” smiling warmly at them

“KYAHHH MS. ITADORI YOU'RE AMAZINGG!!”

-

“Ms. Itadori your meeting with Mr. Gojo.”

“Thank you for reminding me.”

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous to face him alone. When we would see eachother it would be in a room full of other staff, other high powered authorities, and even our parents.

Never alone.

Knock Knock

“Come in” He calls out

‘Calm down Y/N.’

Opening the door to his office.

“Mr. Gojo.” Bowing slightly.

Thank you for the support on Part One I really appreciate it! This one was a little difficult for me because I struggled with wording (That’s why there’s a time skip sorry!). Anyways, Thank you guys for reading!

Tag List

@cocolawd @kalopsia-flaneur @megumisthirdog @cyzvx

[muiitoloko]

hi,

could you please write part 2 of your eli X daughter!reader / barkley X reader fanfic?<3

it's soooo good, i love your eli fanfics<3

Title: Doll

Summary: You're like a doll now.

Pairing: Eli Michaelson & Daughter! Reader

Warnings: Anger, Pain and Angst.

Author's Notes: Thanks for the request. Gotta admit, tears were flowing as I penned this one. It might just be the saddest story I've ever written.

First and second part here.

Hours later, Eli sat in the hospital waiting room, his face buried in his hands as tears streamed down his cheeks. Sarah sat next to him, her arm wrapped around his shoulder in a comforting embrace, her own eyes red and swollen from crying. Barkley sat on the other side of Eli, playing with his Spider-Man and Doctor Octopus toys, oblivious to the turmoil that surrounded him.

Eli cried like he had never cried before, the weight of guilt and fear crushing him with each passing moment. He couldn't remember the last time he shed a tear, but now, as he faced the possibility of losing his little girl, his heart broke into a million pieces.

"What if she's not okay?" Eli whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "Why did this have to happen? She's my little scientist, Sarah. She's supposed to change the world."

Sarah squeezed Eli's shoulder gently, her own voice trembling with emotion as she tried to offer words of comfort. "We don't know what's going to happen, Eli," she murmured, her heart aching at the sight of her husband's pain. "But we have to stay strong for her. She needs us now more than ever."

But Eli shook his head, unable to shake the feeling of dread that consumed him from within. "I should have protected her," he whispered, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper. "I should have been there for her. But instead, I let her down."

Sarah's heart broke at the sight of her husband's anguish, her own tears mingling with his as she struggled to find the right words to ease his pain. "We're all here for her, Eli," she reassured him, her voice trembling with emotion. "And we're not going to give up hope. She's a fighter, just like her dad."

But Eli couldn't shake the feeling that he had made a terrible mistake by suggesting they attend the comic convention instead of having a traditional birthday party for the twins at home. His decision had led to this nightmare scenario, and now his daughter lay injured, fighting for her life.

"Why did I ever agree to this?" He muttered to himself, his voice thick with anguish. "I should have known better. We should have been safe at home, celebrating with cake and balloons, not trapped in this nightmare."

Sarah, sensing her husband's anguish, reached out to comfort him, her own eyes brimming with tears. She rubbed his back gently, offering words of solace in the midst of their shared pain. "It's not your fault, Eli," she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion. "We all thought it would be a fun outing for the kids. None of us could have predicted..."

But Eli cut her off, his frustration boiling over as he turned to face her. "No, Sarah," he snapped, his baritone voice tinged with bitterness. "I should have put my foot down and insisted on a safer option. But no, I had to be a cheapskate, thinking I could save a few bucks by taking them to that damned convention. But that's your fault too!"

Sarah recoiled slightly, stung by his words, but she knew he was hurting and lashing out in his grief. She swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to defend herself, but Eli's accusatory gaze bore into her, demanding an explanation.

"Why weren't you with her, Sarah?" Eli's voice cracked with emotion as he spoke, his hooked nose wrinkling in frustration. "Why did you leave her alone, surrounded by strangers? She needed you, and you weren't there."

Sarah's heart sank as she struggled to respond, her mind racing with guilt and regret. "I...I went to buy Barkley a toy," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't think...I didn't know..."

But Eli's anger flared, his eyes burning with accusation as he cut her off. "A toy?!" he exclaimed, his voice rising with disbelief. "You left our children alone for a damn toy?! What were you thinking, Sarah?!"

Tears welled up in Sarah's eyes as she tried to defend herself, her hands trembling with guilt. "I thought they would be safe," she choked out, her voice breaking with emotion. "I never imagined..."

But Eli wasn't listening, his attention turning to Barkley, who sat nearby playing with his toys, seemingly indifferent to the chaos around him. Rage surged through Eli's veins as he watched his son play, his mind filled with resentment and anger.

"And you," Eli growled, his voice dripping with contempt as he glared at Barkley. "You sit there playing with your toys, stained with your sister's blood, and you don't even care."

Sarah rushed to Barkley's defense, her own frustration mounting as she tried to shield her son from Eli's wrath. "He's in shock, Eli," she pleaded, her voice trembling with emotion. "People react differently in traumatic situations. He's just a child."

Eli's frustration and guilt reached a breaking point as he grappled with the magnitude of the situation. Gripping his hair tightly, he fought back the urge to scream, feeling utterly powerless in the face of his daughter's suffering. Tears streamed down his face unchecked as he silently pleaded for her to be okay.

Sarah, equally distraught, wrapped her arms around Eli, trying to offer whatever solace she could amidst their shared anguish. The hours dragged by slowly, each moment feeling like an eternity as they waited for news of their daughter's condition.

Restlessness gnawed at Eli's nerves, his mind tortured by thoughts of what might be happening to his precious girl. Finally, a doctor approached them, and Eli and Sarah rose from their seats, their hearts pounding with dread.

"Please, tell us," Eli implored, his voice hoarse with emotion. "How is she? Is she going to be okay?"

The doctor hesitated, a heavy sigh escaping his lips before he spoke. "Your daughter, [Your Name] Michaelson, will survive," he began, but his words hung in the air like a heavy weight.

Eli's heart sank, his chest tightening with fear as he braced himself for the worst. "Please, doctor," he urged, his voice trembling with desperation. "Just tell us."

The doctor sighed again, his expression grave as he delivered the devastating news. "I'm afraid the impact of the statue has caused significant damage," he explained, his words like a knife to Eli's heart. "Your daughter's spinal cord has been crushed. She's quadriplegic."

Time seemed to stand still as Eli processed the doctor's words, his mind reeling with disbelief and despair. Quadriplegic. The word echoed in his mind like a haunting refrain, filling him with a profound sense of sorrow and helplessness.

"No..." Eli whispered, his voice barely a whisper as he struggled to comprehend the magnitude of what had happened. "No, it can't be..."

Eli felt his world shatter into a million pieces. Quadriplegic. The term reverberated in his mind, each syllable like a dagger plunging into his heart. He couldn't bear to imagine what life would be like for his beloved daughter, confined to a wheelchair and robbed of the simple joys of childhood.

His legs gave out beneath him, and he sank to the floor, his body wracked with sobs as he struggled to process the devastating news. Sarah, beside him, clutched a hand to her mouth, tears streaming down her face as she grappled with her own anguish. How could this be happening? Their daughter, only eight years old, didn't deserve this cruel fate.

"Eight years," Eli choked out, his voice barely above a whisper, "she's just eight years old..."

The room spun around him, a whirlwind of emotions threatening to consume him whole. His mind raced with a torrent of questions, each more agonizing than the last. How would she live from now on, unable to play, run, or even hug her parents with the same spontaneity and freedom as before? How would they adapt to this new reality, navigating a world that suddenly seemed so daunting and unforgiving?

Sarah's hand found his, her touch a bittersweet anchor in the midst of their shared despair. "We'll figure it out," she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion. "We'll do whatever it takes to help her, Eli. She's still our daughter, no matter what."

But Eli couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of grief that threatened to suffocate him. His mind replayed memories of his daughter's laughter, her infectious smile, and the sparkle in her eyes as she chased after her dreams. Now, those dreams lay shattered at their feet, a cruel reminder of the fragility of life and the harsh realities they were now forced to confront.

As Eli struggled to regain his composure, a fierce determination ignited within him. He couldn't change what had happened, but he could be there for his daughter in ways he never imagined possible. No matter what challenges lay ahead, he would stand by her side, a pillar of strength and unwavering support in the face of adversity.

With Sarah's steady presence beside him, Eli drew a shaky breath and rose to his feet, his heart heavy but resolute. They had a long journey ahead of them, filled with obstacles and uncertainty, but one thing remained certain: their love for their daughter would never falter, even in the darkest of times. Together, they would face the future, one step at a time, holding onto hope and the promise of a better tomorrow.

Barkley, sensing the gravity of the situation, looked up at his parents with wide eyes, his curiosity piqued by the unfamiliar term. "What's quadriplegic?" He asked, his voice small and uncertain amidst the somber atmosphere. But neither Eli nor Sarah had the emotional capacity to respond, their attention consumed by their own tumultuous thoughts.

Ignoring Barkley's question, Eli turned to the doctor, his voice strained with urgency. "Can we see her now?" he asked, his words rushed and desperate. "Please, we need to be with her."

The doctor nodded solemnly, his expression sympathetic as he led them down the sterile hospital corridor to your room. You lay sleeping, your small form tucked beneath crisp white sheets, a myriad of wires and monitors surrounding you like a protective cocoon.

Eli wasted no time in rushing to your bedside, his heart pounding with fear and longing as he took in the sight of you lying there, so small and vulnerable. Tears welled up in his eyes as he reached out to gently brush a lock of hair from your forehead, his touch light and tender.

Meanwhile, Sarah took Barkley's hand, leading him into the room with a gentle but firm grip. Barkley's eyes darted around the room, taking in the unfamiliar sights and sounds with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

"Is she...is she dead?" Barkley whispered, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked up at Sarah with wide, fearful eyes. But Sarah shook her head, her heart breaking at the thought of her son grappling with such a terrifying notion.

"No, Barkley," she murmured, her voice soft but firm. "She's alive, but she's hurt. She needs all the attention and love we can give her right now."

A pang of disappointment flickered across Barkley's face, his resentment bubbling to the surface once more. Even unconscious, you still continued to steal attention for yourself, stealing Mom and Dad's attention for yourself, and this made Barkley even more angry and jealous.

As the morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the hospital room, you slowly began to stir from your slumber. Blinking groggily, you glanced around the room, confusion clouding your thoughts as you tried to make sense of your surroundings.

Your gaze settled on the figure of your father, Eli, asleep in a chair next to your bed, his head resting on his arms. Relief flooded through you at the sight of him, his presence offering a sense of comfort amidst the unfamiliarity of the hospital room.

"Daddy?" you called out, your voice small and raspy as you tried to rouse him from his sleep. Your mouth felt dry, and a dull ache pulsed through your body, a reminder of the ordeal you had endured.

Eli stirred, his eyelids fluttering open as he slowly lifted his head from his arms, blinking blearily as he registered your voice. "Sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice hoarse with sleep as he rubbed his eyes and sat up straighter in the chair.

As your father's gaze met yours, you couldn't help but feel a surge of fear welling up inside you. Something was wrong, you could sense it in the way your body felt heavy and unresponsive beneath the sheets.

You tried to sit up, but panic gripped you as you realized that you couldn't move your arms or legs. Frantically, you struggled against the invisible barrier holding you down, tears streaming down your face as fear and confusion washed over you in waves.

"Daddy, I can't move," you cried out, your voice trembling with fear as you looked to Eli for help. "What's happening to me? Why can't I move?"

Eli's heart shattered at the sound of your distressed voice, his own eyes filling with tears as he reached out to gently stroke your cheek. "Shh, sweetheart, it's okay," he murmured, his voice cracking with emotion. "You're going to be okay. Daddy's here."

But his words offered little comfort as you grappled with the terrifying reality of your situation. The realization that you were unable to move, trapped in your own body, sent waves of panic coursing through you, leaving you gasping for air as tears streamed down your cheeks.

Eli's heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to find the courage to tell you the truth. The word "quadriplegic" weighed heavily on his mind, a grim reminder of the irreversible damage that had been done to your body. He knew he couldn't keep it from you any longer, but the thought of seeing the devastation in your eyes filled him with dread.

"Sweetheart," Eli began, his voice trembling with emotion as he reached out to gently cup your face in his hands. "There's something I need to tell you, and it's...it's not going to be easy to hear."

Your eyes widened in fear as you sensed the gravity in your father's tone. "What is it, Daddy?" you whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse murmur, your heart pounding in your chest.

Eli took a deep breath, steeling himself for the difficult conversation that lay ahead. "You were injured in the accident," he explained, his voice barely above a whisper as he struggled to find the right words. "And...and the doctors say that...that you're quadriplegic."

The words hung in the air like a heavy weight, suffocating you with their crushing reality. Quadriplegic. The term echoed in your mind like a cruel refrain, filling you with a sense of despair and hopelessness. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to process the magnitude of what had happened.

"I can't move," you choked out, your voice trembling with fear and disbelief. "I can't feel anything, Daddy. What's going to happen to me?"

Eli's heart shattered at the sound of your anguish, his own eyes filling with tears as he struggled to find the right words to comfort you. "I don't know, sweetheart," he admitted, his voice choked with emotion. "But we're going to get through this together, I promise."

But your distress only seemed to escalate, your cries growing louder as you called out for your mother. Panic surged through Eli's veins as he tried to calm you down, his own sense of helplessness overwhelming him.

"Mom will be here soon, sweetheart," Eli reassured you, his voice strained with desperation as he tried to soothe your fears. "She's just...she's just taking Barkley home to rest. But she'll be here soon, I promise."

But you continued to cry out for your mother, your voice filled with fear and desperation as the machines attached to you started beeping in alarm. Panic surged through Eli's veins as he realized he couldn't calm you down on his own.

Summoning all his strength, Eli reached for the call button beside your bed, his fingers trembling as he pressed it urgently. Within moments, a nurse rushed into the room, her expression grave as she assessed the situation.

"What's going on?" the nurse asked, her voice calm and reassuring as she moved to your bedside, checking the monitors and IV lines with practiced efficiency.

Eli's voice cracked with emotion as he tried to explain the situation, his words rushed and frantic. "She's...she's scared," he admitted, tears streaming down his face as he watched you struggle. "Please, you have to help her."

The nurse nodded solemnly, her eyes filled with compassion as she turned her attention to you, speaking to you in soothing tones as she tried to calm your fears. Slowly but surely, your cries began to subside, the sound of your heartbeat on the monitor steadying as the nurse worked her magic.

As the tension in the room began to ease, Eli sank into the chair beside your bed, his body shaking with sobs as he struggled to come to terms with the enormity of what had happened. His heart ached with a profound sense of guilt and regret, knowing that he couldn't protect you from the pain and suffering you now faced.

But through the tears and the anguish, one thing remained clear: his love for you was unwavering, a beacon of hope in the darkness that threatened to consume them both. Together, they would face the challenges ahead, drawing strength from each other and the bond that bound them as father and daughter.

Days later, long after the chaos of the accident had settled into a grim routine, Eli found himself sitting alone at the dinner table, the harsh fluorescent light casting long shadows across the room. His usually neat and orderly demeanor was replaced by a haggard expression, lines of worry etched deep into his furrowed brow.

Late into the night, with only the soft glow of the lamp illuminating the room, Eli sat hunched over his notebook, the sound of the calculator's buttons clicking rhythmically filling the silence. His hand shook slightly as he scribbled down figures, his mind racing with the daunting task that lay before him.

Sarah approached quietly, her footsteps barely audible against the cold tile floor. She rested a gentle hand on Eli's shoulder, her touch a fleeting comfort in the midst of their shared sorrow. "Eli, what are you doing?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with concern as she peered over his shoulder at the notebook filled with calculations.

Eli's baritone voice cracked with emotion as he struggled to compose himself, his eyes red and swollen from hours of restless contemplation. "I'm...I'm calculating the hospital bill," he admitted, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper. "And the cost of...of [Your Name]'s treatment."

A heavy sigh escaped Sarah's lips as she glanced towards the twins' bedroom, where you lay sleeping, your small form obscured by the darkness of the night. "We're going to have to buy an electric wheelchair for her," she murmured sadly, her voice barely a whisper as she struggled to contain her own emotions.

The weight of her words hung heavily in the air, a stark reminder of the challenges that lay ahead for their family. Eli's hand trembled as he dropped the pencil onto the table, his head sinking into his hands as he fought back the overwhelming wave of despair that threatened to consume him.

Sarah moved to comfort him, her own tears glistening in the dim light as she wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. "We'll figure it out, Eli," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "We'll find a way to give her the life she deserves, no matter what it takes."

But Eli's anguish was palpable, his heart heavy with the weight of his daughter's suffering. "She's so sad, Sarah," he choked out, his voice thick with tears. "She used to talk to me all the time, but now...now she won't even look at me. I hate seeing her like this, Sarah. I hate it."

Tears streamed down Sarah's face as she held her husband close, her own heart breaking at the thought of her precious daughter's pain. "I know, Eli," she murmured, her voice trembling with sorrow. "But we have to stay strong for her. She needs us now more than ever."

But Eli couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of despair that threatened to engulf him. Why did this have to happen to you? You didn't deserve this, his mind screamed, the injustice of it all weighing heavily on his weary soul.

As he clung to Sarah in the darkness of the night, Eli vowed to do whatever it took to ease his daughter's suffering, to find a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to consume them all. But in that moment, as he wept silently into the night, he couldn't help but wonder if their family would ever be whole again.

Meanwhile, in the dimly lit bedroom, you lay awake, your gaze fixed on the ceiling as you struggled against the invisible chains that bound you to your bed. Every fiber of your being screamed out for movement, but no matter how hard you tried, your limbs remained stubbornly immobile, trapped in a prison of flesh and bone.

Tears welled up in your eyes as frustration and despair washed over you in waves, the pain of your helplessness gnawing at your soul. You choked back a sob, your throat constricting with emotion as you fought to keep your composure in the darkness of the night.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Barkley stirred in his bed, his restless murmurs breaking the silence of the night. His voice, tinged with bitterness and resentment, cut through the stillness like a knife as he mumbled loud enough for you to hear.

"It must be bad being trapped in your own body," Barkley muttered, his words laced with a cruel edge as he turned to look at you, his eyes glinting in the dim light.

You turned your head to face your twin brother, your heart sinking at the venom in his tone. "Go to sleep, Barkley," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "Leave me alone."

But Barkley ignored your plea, his voice growing louder as he continued to taunt you. "You've become useless now, haven't you?" he sneered, his words like daggers piercing your heart. "Just like a doll, unable to move unless someone else moves you."

Tears streamed down your face as Barkley's words cut through you like a knife, his cruel jabs twisting the knife of your own insecurities. You turned your head away, unable to bear the weight of his scorn any longer, your heart heavy with the pain of his betrayal.

But Barkley was relentless, his voice dripping with malice as he reveled in your anguish. "What's the matter, little sister?" he taunted, his voice low and mocking. "Can't handle the truth? Face it, you're nothing but a burden now."

Each word was like a blow to your already battered soul, the weight of Barkley's hatred crushing you beneath its weight. You clung to the silence of the night, praying for reprieve from his cruelty, but deep down, you knew that his words would haunt you long after the darkness lifted.

As you lay there, broken and alone, you couldn't help but wonder how your once-close bond with your twin had devolved into this toxic cycle of resentment and betrayal. But in the darkness of the night, with only your tears for company, there were no answers to be found, only the harsh reality of your shattered dreams.

The next morning, as the soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, you resigned yourself to the new routine that had become your reality. Your dependence on your parents for even the most basic tasks weighed heavily on your shoulders, a constant reminder of the life you once knew slipping further and further away.

Today, you watched as your father, Eli, carefully dressed you in a pair of big socks. Confusion etched across your face as you glanced down at the unfamiliar garment, your curiosity piqued by its purpose.

"What's that, Daddy?" you asked, your voice small and uncertain as you looked up at Eli for answers.

Eli's heart clenched at the innocence in your question, his own emotions raw and tender as he struggled to find the right words. "It's a special sock, sweetheart," he explained gently, his voice tinged with sadness. "It helps your blood circulate to your legs, so they don't get sore from not moving."

You assented, watching in silence as Eli carefully adjusted the sock, his movements slow and deliberate as he worked to ensure your comfort. Despite his efforts to conceal his own sorrow, you could see the pain etched into the lines of his face, a silent testament to the depth of his love for you.

Once the socks were in place, Eli sat back on the edge of the bed, his eyes meeting yours in a silent plea for understanding. "Would you like to sit on the porch for a while?" he asked softly, his voice filled with a quiet hope. "It's a beautiful day outside, and I thought you might enjoy some fresh air."

But you shook your head stubbornly, your eyes downcast as you turned away from him. "No, thank you," you whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper as you buried yourself deeper into the blankets. "I just want to stay here."

Eli's heart sank at your response, his own disappointment mingling with a sense of resignation as he struggled to contain his emotions. He knew that forcing you to do anything you didn't want to do would only make things worse, but it pained him to see you withdraw further into yourself with each passing day.

"Alright, sweetheart," Eli murmured, his voice heavy with regret as he reached out to gently stroke your hair. "You just let me know if you change your mind, okay? I'll be right here if you need anything."

But you remained silent, your eyes fixed on the ceiling as a heavy silence settled over the room. Eli sighed softly, his heart heavy with the weight of your pain, as he struggled to find the right words to ease your suffering.

"Your mother is going to buy an electric wheelchair for you today," Eli continued, his voice tinged with forced cheerfulness as he tried to change the subject. "Once we have that, you'll be able to get around the house more easily. And maybe...maybe you can go back to school soon."

The mention of school seemed to strike a nerve, and you tensed visibly, your breath catching in your throat as you struggled to contain your emotions. "I don't want to go to school," you whispered, your voice trembling with fear and uncertainty. "I don't want everyone to see me like this."

Eli's heart shattered at the sound of your distress, his own eyes filling with tears as he reached out to comfort you. "Shh, sweetheart, it's okay," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he gently wiped away your tears. "We'll figure it out together, I promise. You don't have to go back until you're ready."

But you shook your head stubbornly, your frustration bubbling to the surface as you struggled to contain your anger. "I don't want to go!" you cried out, your voice echoing through the room as you lashed out in desperation. "I don't want everyone to see me like this!"

Eli's frustration mounted as he struggled to contain his own emotions, his heart breaking at the sight of your pain. "I know, sweetheart, I know," he whispered, his voice strained with anguish as he reached out to hold you close. "But you can't hide from the world forever. You're still the same amazing girl you've always been, and nobody can take that away from you. Please, sweetheart, don't shut us out. We're here for you, no matter what."

But you ignore him, growing angrier as you take your anger out on your father, shouting accusations at him that echo off the walls of the room like a relentless barrage of blame. With each word, Eli's heart clenches with anguish, his own emotions raw as he struggles to comprehend the depth of your pain.

"It's your fault!" you cried out, your voice thick with resentment as you lashed out in desperation. "You should have protected me! You should have kept me safe! But you didn't, and now look at me! I can't move, I can't do anything on my own! I'm just a burden to everyone, like a doll that needs to be taken care of!"

Eli's breath caught in his throat at your words, his chest tightening with a sense of guilt and remorse that threatened to suffocate him. "No, sweetheart, no," he protested, his voice trembling with emotion as he reached out to you, his hands shaking with anguish. "It wasn't my fault. I never wanted this to happen to you. I would do anything to take your place, to spare you from this pain."

But you shook your head stubbornly, your anger unyielding as you continued to heap blame upon him. "You should have been there for me!" you insisted, your voice rising with each accusation. "You should have protected me, but you didn't! You let me down, Daddy! You let me down!"

Eli's heart shattered into a million pieces at your words, his breath catching in his throat as he struggled to contain his emotions.

"Sweetheart, please," he pleaded, his voice thick with anguish as he reached out to you, his hands trembling with emotion. "I know you're hurting, but you have to understand...this is tearing me apart too."

But you continued to lash out, your accusations ringing in his ears like a relentless echo of pain. Each word was like a dagger to his heart, reopening old wounds and magnifying his sense of failure and inadequacy as a father.

"I hate you!" you screamed, your voice filled with rage and despair as you pushed him away, your eyes blazing with anger. "You're supposed to protect me, but you didn't! You let this happen to me!"

Eli staggered back, his world spinning as the weight of your words bore down on him like a crushing weight. His chest tightened with a sense of suffocation, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he struggled to make sense of the overwhelming flood of emotions that threatened to consume him.

"Do you think this is easy for me?" Eli demanded, his voice trembling with anguish as he fought to control his rising anger. "Do you have any idea what it was like for me to see you lying there, injured and helpless? To hear the doctors tell me that you would never walk again?"

His words hung in the air like a heavy fog, enveloping the room in a suffocating silence as you stared at him, your eyes wide with shock and disbelief. Eli's voice cracked with emotion as he continued, his words tinged with bitterness and regret.

"I would give anything to take your place," Eli whispered, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper as he struggled to contain his tears. "I would trade places with you in a heartbeat, if it meant sparing you from this pain. But I can't, sweetheart. All I can do is be here for you, to love you and support you in any way I can."

Tears streamed down Eli's face unchecked as he sank to his knees beside your bed, his heart breaking into a million pieces as he reached out to take your hand in his. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm so, so sorry."

But you remained silent, your eyes fixed on the ceiling as a heavy silence settled over the room. Eli's shoulders shook with sobs as he buried his face in his hands, the weight of his guilt and regret crushing him beneath its unbearable weight.

In that moment, as the darkness of despair threatened to swallow you both, Eli and you stood together in silent anguish, your bond as father and daughter the only solace in a world full of pain and regret. And as the tears continued to fall, Eli vowed to weather the storm together, drawing strength from each other in the face of their shared grief.

[forabeatofadrum]

Hello everyone and a fine El WooWoo Wednesday to you. Thank you @facewithoutheart​ for the tag. I woke up today and I chose violence and by violence I mean “doing something batshit like posting another WIP Wednesday Hospital”.

It’s been a while (7 months, apparently) since I last did one of those, so for the ones who are new, let me explain what a WIP Wednesday Hospital is real quick. The WIP Wednesday Hospital is inspired a post by @facewithoutheart​ called a WIP Wednesday Graveyard, where Christina put her abandoned WIPs to rest and I was obsessed with the idea, but I also realised that I wasn’t ready to put my WIPs to rest since I had the intention of finishing them. So instead of a graveyard, my WIPs reside in a (long-stay) hospital ward. All my WIPs are waiting for me to discharge them (aka finish them). Some WIPs have been in this long-stay hospital ward for years (shout out to aap noot mies for getting discharged after 7 years!) while others are still getting used to it.

Below the cut are 10 patients waiting for a visit. You can go say hi to all of them, or just skip to the ones that interest you. I bolded the fandoms/ships etc. for easier browsing.

So please mask up and leave your name at the guest list: @quizasvivamos @crissmastrees-and-candyklaines @coffeegleek @esperantoauthor @otherworldsivelivedin @caramelcoffeeaddict @sillyunicorn @bazzybelle @dragoneggos @raenestee @tectonicduck @nightimedreamersworld @urban-sith @thnxforknowingme @captain-aralias @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @takitalks @justgleekout @cerriddwenluna @wellbelesbian @tea-brigade @cutestkilla @ivelovedhimthroughworse @moodandmist @artsyunderstudy @whogaveyoupermission @bookish-bogwitch @confused-bi-queer @martsonmars @aroace-genderfluid-sheep​ @ionlydrinkhotwater​ @1908jmd​ @special-bc-ur-part-of-it​ @larkral​

Patient no. 1 has gotten a lot of love lately. It’s my Snowbaz Carry On Prompt Fest text fic make a fire out of this flame. Simon’s sent a wrong message to Baz and things escalate from there on:

Baz🍆 (17:06) Will I ever meet your soulmate?

Simon Snow-Salisbury (17:06) what

Baz🍆 (17:07) The fish

Simon Snow-Salisbury (17:07) OH

This is Simon’s phone, hence the 🍆 (it’ll get explained) (it’s not what you think). And I hate to say it, but I think I might have to wheel this one back to the hospital ward. I may have to prioritise finishing other fics, including patient no. 2.

Patient no. 2 has the working title comphet babey! and I hope it’s going to be my Klaine Advent fic for this year. I have a total of two (2) ideas for this fic. One is that Blaine and Quinn are in a comphet relationship and the other is that the entire fic takes place in Ljubljana, Slovenia. You’ve heard of “Saló is the place to be”, well, meet a contestant:

Kongresni trg is the place to be.

Kurt loves sitting in the grass - on a blanket, mind you, he’s not going to ruin his clothes - and breathing in the scent from the pizza place in the corner. He’s not attached to the square because of its historical value, but because he likes being here. It’s a nice green spot in the heart of the capital. It’s surrounded by gorgeous buildings and you have a stunning view of the Ljubljana Castle on top of the Castle Hill.

Kurt’s only been here for a few days, but he already loves this place as a spot to unwind. And again, the great pizza place is an added bonus.

Yes, yes, this is based on my own experiences, although unlike Kurt, I did park my ass on the grass.

Patient no. 3 is Just Some Guy. Remember him? Matt Christopher Davis? This is the full 8 years at Watford from an outsider’s POV. Sure, Simon is the Chosen One and Baz is his Main Antagonist, but Matt is just some guy trying to get an education and he’s a bit fed up about these two interrupting his studies. Matt needs a break, so in his fourth year, he exchanges with Micah and fucks off:

“And you would not believe what happened this time!” John says, as usual.

Every week, John gives me updates about life back at Watford. I was clearly mistaken about the year being uneventful. Well, it’s uneventful for me, but for some reasons John finds it important to keep me up to date with the Chosen One’s life.

It all started with the Humdrum sending magickal monkeys to disrupt the welcome picnic.

Oh, and yes, John is Check, Please!’s John Johnson. Why? Because I can.

Speaking of Check, Please!, patient no. 4 is a returning patient and it is a Zimbits fic, although you can also call it a Jack & Lardo friendship fic first and a Zimbits fic second. It’s about Instagram and I haven’t written for it since 2019, but hey, let’s give it some love:

Apparently, the hockey world is not done with Jack Zimmermann.

He’d been updating his Instagram for a month and he’d gathered a couple of followers when one day, a comment appeared.

‘r u jack zimmermann from hockey???‘

Jack had ignored it.

But the comments kept flooding. His follower count expanded greatly. Jack kept ignoring it.

Then, one day, Larissa barges into his room. 

Patient no. 5 is, well, you can say it is a Simon/Butter fic. No, not really. Remember I can’t believe it IS butter? I then planned a Simon Snow Butter Saga that I do want to finish one day but then I sort of let it go in favour for other fics. This is from Cheer up, butter cup!:

But yeah, I have mini butter cups now. I stash them in my cold and enlarged pocket (I persuaded Baz to also spell it bigger on the inside) .

Back in my flat I put them in my fridge. Honestly, Baz should also enlarge the inside of the fridge to make room for all my butter.

“At least my strawberry dessert syrup doesn’t take up that much space, love,” he says as he watches me shove the mini butter cups to the back.

“Baz, what do I do now with all this butter?”

He raises an eyebrow.

“You’re asking me? You’re the one who eats them like candy.”

Patient no. 6 is a Love, Victor ending rewrite. Yes, I am also creating a bunch of Love, Victor ending rewrites because I thought the final season sucked ass. BEWARE! SPOILERS FOR LOVE, VICTOR START AFTER THIS SENTENCE, SO SKIP TO THE NEXT PATIENT IT YOU DON’T WANT TO BE SPOILED. I already posted All I needed for another day, which is an ending where Victor ends up single and rides the ferris wheel alone, and this one is called All I ever knew, only you. Benji doesn’t show up at the ferris wheel either. Instead, they meet again 3 years later. After all... do I dislike Venji? No, but I am also not incredibly happy with how they ended up together. Hence the rewrite:

A host announces a new band and Leah cheers loudly.

Abby raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve heard of them,” Leah says and she turns to the others, “They’re a new group, all UGA freshmen. I spoke to the drummer once. They want to do covers, but also try their hand at original stuff.”

“Let them hear it,” Abby says and she raises a glass.

The others join in. They look at their joined glasses and they cheer and hoot even more.

Out of the corner of Victor’s eyes, he can see the band getting on stage and he drops his glass when he sees a familiar face.

“Victor, Jesus!” Felix yells out. It’s a good thing Victor’s glass was almost empty and it didn’t fall from a great height, so it didn’t break. It only spills a bit of beer on Victor’s shirt, but Victor couldn’t care less.

Benji is on stage.

Patient no. 7 is an Under the Whispering Door fic called Actual Freeman. It’s supposed to be short and sweet. Emphasis on short. Yet, I haven’t finished it, but I do have this:

Wallace Reid knows he’s up for another change of names. It was fun being Wallace Reid for two years, but it’s time to move on.

It’s time to become Wallace Freeman.

Hugo is the one who proposed. They were out riding the motorcycle. Hugo took them to their favourite spot and went down on one knee.

Patient no. 8 is another returning patient. It’s Hold on to that feeling, my Glee/CO crossover. I haven’t written for this in ages, but all the new information about Simon being able to sing... oh chef’s kiss! I can’t wait to incorporate that. But first, this:

“Uhm, Simon, Baz… Blaine?”

It’s Kurt’s voice. Blaine opens the door and Kurt looks very confused and surprised when he sees the others.

“You’re- you’re back,” he says quietly. Blaine also guides Kurt inside so that he can close the door. It’s true that no one else can see this room, but it still feels like they have more privacy now.

“Look, I messed up!” Simon throws his hands in the air.

“Again,” Baz reminds him.

“I was trying out several spells that could help us on our quest to get home. One of them was an Everything in its time.”

“Which, as Snow unfortunately forgot with his pea-sized brain, creates time jumps,” Baz says angrily.

Patient no. 9 is, uh, an unexpected patient and honestly this one is still in the waiting room. I might not admit it to the hospital in the first place. I’m still wondering if I actually want to do something with this, but, uh.... Rosemary Snow my beloved:

“Papà, babbo, sono a casa!” I yell out and I close the door behind me, “Anche Ire è qui!”

I hear some commotion coming from the living room. Ire raises an eyebrow and I shrug.

Eventually, a small voice comes from the other side of the door.

“... R-Rosemary?” my papà sounds uncertain, “Is that you?”

“Si, sono io,” I say with a frown on my face. Why did he reply in English? My papà and I speak a lot of Italian when it’s the two of us, and especially if one of my friends is coming over.

I open the door and my jaw drops when I realise what I am seeing.

My papà is standing in the living room, looking like a lost dog, and he has wings.

Basically, this is an AU of Paradiso? Learn more about it here. Not sure if the Italian is correct. Sorry Marta for cheating on you with Google translate, but like I said, I’m not sure if this is going to be a thing.

And okay, let’s end this with a bang. Patient no. 10 is [REDACTED]. As in, the actual title is redacted. Everything about this fic is a secret, since it is written for the Klaine Secret Santa and any snippet might easily give away what prompt I am writing and who I am writing it for. Yet, I want to share it, since I actually started writing it today and I have clear plans for it now. Here’s the start:

“I am here because I want to be challenged.”

Everyone claps politely and [REDACTED] sits down with a satisfied grin on their face. They’re basking in the praise and [REDACTED] envies their confidence. It’s almost their time to introduce themself and they are incredibly nervous.

This is their first [REDACTED].

This is a [REDACTED].

This is [REDACTED].

Yet, they can’t help but be anxious.

What if they [REDACTED]? After all, if you had told them a year ago that [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED], they wouldn’t have believed you.

[REDACTED], of all people, as [REDACTED]?

I’m sorry. I think I am funny. (I also changed all the gendered pronouns to they/them for this snippet. Gotta commit to the bit ✊😔.)

Thank you for reading. As always, feel free to leave flowers and to make your own WIP Wednesday Hospital. It’s always a lot of fun. Feel free to visit the previous three hospital posts here, here and here, although you will see that some patients have been discharged 🥳.

[ccarrot]

I once read an Evangelion meta post but there was a line that hit me like a bus. It was like. Asuka and Shinji are both dogs, but where Asuka is all bark and no bite, Shinji is all bite and no bark.

like. yes that's so fucking accurate. And,, they're both people pleasers

[sollucets]

🙃🙃…

[wethecelestial]

they should invent a grief thats uncomplicated and purely cathartic to experience. has anyone thought of this before

[keingleichgewicht]

Listen for the prophecy somewhere in the static Once you've saddled up your pony Burn down the paddock

kt, parties is for losers by ferry the mountain goats, "as many candles as possible"

[do-rey-me]

you are the world.

as you lay dying in a hospital bed

we take a moment to breathe in

(we do not know this is a dangerous thing yet)

the air free of the chemicals and beeping and rushing we have grown accustomed to

we try and eat something that is not bland

the shops are closed

as you are dying, the world is dying with you.

when we had first arrived, the staff had thought i was old

they had me sign paperwork and give medical information for your stay as your next of kin

they looked in my eyes and saw my future

(Apollo was God of prophecy and medicine both)

knew i would command your fate into the ground

knew i would not condemn you to that terror of cremation

your family arrives

(black birds following armies, knowing that a feast will be served)

they always do, for matters they consider important

first arrives your sister

(i forget which one)

she is kind to me, of course

she dances around the obvious, of course

she is surprised that my mother and stepfather are there,

although she tries to hide it

at some point, there is a meeting around whether or not

you would want to have donated yourself to help others

(why is that information not already available?)

i don’t know for certain what you would say, but i tell them to do it anyway

(forgive me, for not asking)

(forgive me, for not saying hello)

(forgive me, for waiting until i was grown to talk)

your sister tries to give you your Last Rites while my family is away

the Priest, the Doctors, they all tell her no

she tries anyway

(i understand, she is trying to help)

(i understand, she does not know you)

your Mother arrives.

(so does her husband and my uncle)

i don the armor ive been welding for my (your) life (death)

I greet her with respect, we go through the motions of grief before death

(i do not give her my True Name, i do not eat of her food, i do not give her any debts)

(i am a changeling child, i know her kind well)

i prepare myself for real battles to begin.

the rest of the players trickle in

the family

your friends

(your friends go through your house, giving most to me. neither side asks, so no debt is owed)

(i do not have to go myself)

(it is one less battle to fight)

my mother becomes my second-in-command easily, as if she never even stopped

she is water, flowing and changing

she is rock, steady and tethering

here is how the war is fought

in uncomfortable hospital chairs, we talk, your family and i

your mother takes charge on her side

i take charge on mine

we are outnumbered, but we have legal power over your decisions

and their time is running out.

as per the rules set long ago, we must remain respectful. polite.

they are your family. they raised you. you are their precious son.

(you were born out of wedlock. you abandoned the faith. you raised a queer.)

my mother abandoned you. my stepfather must hate you. your friends are irrelevant.

(you were my mother’s best friend. you got my stepfather to branch out. your friends built a boat to burn for you)

but me? i am your child. you are my precious father, my world, who i am losing.

so when i tell them that you would want to be buried without a box, to feed the earth and let the worms eat your flesh?

they cannot oppose me directly.

most of your family ignores your brother, my uncle

they can’t understand the words he says so they think him infantile

when they aren’t ignoring him, they are Handling him

they tell him you are dying in little words

“Pete isn’t going to be around anymore soon”

they say in falsetto tones

they do not let him grieve. they do not let him love.

i do not let the rage boil under my skin

i do not let myself mourn that with your passing he will be taken away as well

it will not help him. it will not help you.

i often can’t understand what my uncle says either, but that’s not new

the wind likes to play tricks on me, tying words into knots before they reach my ears

i am one of the few that treats him like the eldest child he will soon be

he is one of the few that treats me like the child i shall still be for two years yet

so between battles, sitting amongst the corpses of words, we sit in silence,

and we draw

your death is scheduled

it has to be, to harvest what they can from you, to save who they can

there is ceremony to what comes after

they bring the body up, and we walk down the hall with it

doctors and nurses line the halls, giving respect to what we have lost

giving respect to what you have given that will save others

the only sound the whole way is my uncle’s sobs

i don’t know if he hates that it was a child, your child, who was the one comforting him

and so the world ends.

the funeral seems dull in comparison to the honor walk

sure, your family made a scene,

but my mother took the narrative back

and anyway.

by that point the fight was over

your wishes were respected

i had won.

the next day,

we went home.

and we didn’t come out.

and so the world ends.

[xviruserrorx]

You know this is really starting to become an annoying pattern...

[deepwoundsandfadedscars]

.