#existing instead of living is... unwell

[nmoroder]

painful experience

[onlyswan]

summary: in which for you, jungkook would commit crimes and his mother would peel oranges.

idol!jk x reader | fluff, angst | word count: 9.5k

warnings/content: oc passes out in the shower / jk does something crazy i’m literally insane about this / baby bam cameo 🥺 / stitches >:( / blood draw / mention of speeding / jealous not but rlly jealous oc is pissed owfffff at the nurse who has a crush on jk lmao / jk and his mom loves them to death tho so obv who wins / love is beautiful let’s all cry <3

> in which masterlist!

note: *sitcom sound effect of crowd cheering* I’M BACK 🥰 hope u enjoy the product of my madness during finals season hehehe. and special thanks to my cutieful proofreader rio!! you’re one of my most favorite people i’ve ever met 🥺💕 + my beloveds who came to the rescue when i had medical questions !! i didn’t expect to receive help from soooo many and i’m so freaking grateful i could cri :")

—

“i ordered it the other day. how did it arrive so early?”

jungkook walks back inside the apartment, arms occupied by a stack of boxes that arrived in the mail yesterday.

he arrives at the living room, head tilting to the side in confusion when he realizes that the netflix show he was watching on the television is no longer playing. instead, there is the news channel.

he gasps.

“baby, you’re alive!”

your swollen eyes flicker up to him.

you’re lying on the sofa with your legs lazily dangling on the edge. there’s a toothbrush in your mouth, foam of bubbles between your lips, but your arm barely exerts the energy to make it do its job.

“you were asleep from afternoon to morning. do you know that? you’ve never done that before!” he exclaims, carelessly tossing the boxes on the floor. “i was getting scared!”

you only hum to acknowledge his existence, pushing yourself up from the sofa and unknowingly dodging the hug your boyfriend wanted to greet you with.

he ends up collapsing face first on the empty space you left, hurt and offended.

the bathroom door opens and closes.

he flips over, whining. “yah, we didn’t see each other for a day. didn’t you miss me?!”

still not a single word from you. sleeping that long must not have cured your exhaustion, jungkook surmises. you tend to be glum and cranky when you’re feeling unwell, as is usually the case when you wake up as unrested as before.

he doesn’t always know how to make you feel better, but he always tries anyway.

“our new bedsheets arrived!” he announces from the other side of the bathroom door, making himself loud so that you can hear him despite the shower running. “do you want to unbox them with me?!”

he allows the seconds to pass, but with his hands on his hips, he eventually begins to tap his foot on the floor.

“baby? may i go in?”

he turns the knob, just to be prepared incase the answer is a yes, but it doesn’t turn. a sad pout forms on his face.

huh? why is it locked?

you must genuinely don’t want to be bothered today.

“guess that’s a no.” he mutters to himself before calling out to you. “okay, i’ll wait for you!”

with a crestfallen sigh, he begins to walk back to the living room.

he doesn’t go far, however.

only several steps later, a series of loud crashes is heard from the bathroom and his heart thunders in his chest with a combination of numbing shock and fear.

“____, what was that?! did you fall?!”

he aggressively pounds at the door, extremely desperate this time around. he has no plans on leaving until he knows that you’re safe and sound.

“baby! open this! are you alright…? are you hurt? you’re scaring me. please, answer!”

he pauses, catching his breath as his mind runs a thousand miles per hour.

“____!”

he strikes the door with an open palm one more time, more so to express his frustration that is only growing worse with every tick of the clock. he only ends up hurting himself in the process.

“that’s it! i’m opening the door!”

he frantically whips his head around, racking his brain for the location of the key. there are two copies of it somewhere in the apartment, but in his panicked state, he is unable to pinpoint either of their specific spots. and he can’t fucking afford to waste any more time.

“ah, fuck!” he curses, left with no other choice but to give in to the instinct of breaking down the door with the strength and durability of his body alone.

he would most definitely break his shoulder first before the door.

only after the first try, that much is clear.

and so, with madness inconsiderate of his agony, he resorts to kicking it over and over again.

the repeated loud collisions rattles poor bam from his slumber. not long after, the dog’s barking creates a booming dissonance with his grunts and kicks at the door.

when it finally swings open, the force of his own body sends him stumbling on the bathroom floor, but he doesn’t waste time in bouncing back to his feet.

the twisting of his stomach is instantaneous.

there lies your naked, unconscious figure behind the glass— surrounded by bottles of hair and body products that must have fallen when your hands were searching for something to hold on to.

his voice cracks, breathless.

“baby, no… no, no, no.”

he kneels on the floor, and despite the strong urge to carry you out of there, he tries to calm down. it’s the first rule in every emergency case; professionals reiterate in seminars and news channel segments.

keep calm. keep calm. keep calm.

he won’t be able to forgive himself if he ends up causing more harm than good.

“____, can you hear me?!”

his instinct tells him to inspect every inch of you for any sign of injury, but then his vision becomes too blurry. he curses at the hindrance and forces himself to turn off the showerhead that was left running.

he harshly wipes his face, rushing back to you.

“please, please, please. wake up.” he begs.

he has a feeling that it’s futile. you can’t hear him and he’s wasting his breath. the thing is he doesn’t know what else to do.

“baby…”

he carefully turns your head over, almost relieved because he hasn’t seen blood so far.

almost.

at last, he gets a full view of your face, and he finds blood dripping. this has always been one of his most paralyzing fears— seeing you get hurt. now that it’s become a reality, there’s a part of him that wants to believe this is some kind of twisted dream.

“how- how did this even happen…?” he cries out, his own blood running cold.

for everything that happens after, his body acts on its own. bam is a constant presence in his peripheral, but he is barely in his right mind to acknowledge the presence aside from, “bam, move. daddy might step on you.”

he carries you out of the bathroom, kicking aside the beaten up door. he has made up his mind about bringing you to the hospital, but he can’t bring you like… this.

he lays you down on the bed, all that gentleness switched off in a split second so he can sprint to the walk-in closet. he hastily grabs whatever is on top of your neatly folded stacks of shirts and pants; and then a fresh towel on the way out. the gentleness returns as he pats your face dry, the pure white stained with dark red. he flips the towel and uses the other side to wipe the rest of your body, in a race against time but mindful of treating you like fragile glass.

once that is over, he dresses you in a pair of gray sweatpants, and with some difficulty, an orange t-shirt.

any person with functioning eyes will be able to tell that the shades don’t go together.

if you were conscious, you’d definitely berate him for making you wear this outfit.

but you’re not.

jungkook effortlessly swoops you in his arms— dripping wet hair, his and yours, leaving behind a trail of raindrops from your apartment floor to the cemented parking lot.

—

your body feels like it’s floating.

are you dreaming…?

you must be dreaming.

you hear an uncoordinated symphony of voices, but you can’t comprehend a word. in pursuit of clarity, you force yourself to open your eyes.

the voices grow a little louder. faceless figures hover you; a bright light shines over your face.

your senses must be playing cruel tricks. now it feels like you’re drowning, sinking into the unknown, and your body has succumbed into numbing defeat.

you want to sleep a little more.

you must truly be exhausted. it’s okay.

you’ve fought hard until now. you’ve done enough… has anyone tried in life as much as you did?

just as your eyes flutter shut, you regain sensation of your hand; a soft squeeze and a call of your name.

—

jungkook gently strokes your hair, sighing for the nth time since you got transferred to a private room. he’s relieved that all the scans came back clean so serious head and brain injuries have been ruled out. the doctor also asked him questions and ran some other tests before concluding that electrolyte imbalance caused you to pass out; the culmination of stress and fatigue from work, as well as your strong period, most likely being the main reasons. he didn’t even know about the latter until you stained the white sheets with blood.

it was fucking frightening being in the sidelines as they rushed to check on your vitals and to administer oxygen. even now, it’s unbearable to see you with a needle in your hand and a few stitches above your eyebrow. he already anticipated you not being pleased with having to get stitches specifically either; gasping and sitting up as soon as you heard the word come from his lips post-consciousness. consequently, the dizziness hits you. the doctor wasn’t happy about that.

“this is so annoying. i don’t want a scar.” you whine as you study your face on the camera of jungkook’s phone. “did i have to fall on my prettier side?”

“what are you saying? you’re pretty from any angle.” he interjects. “be careful. the wound might open up.”

you jut out your bottom lip, looking up at him with glassy eyes. the sight instantly tugs at his heartstrings, and he pulls you in for a hug. maybe he’s a little sad that you don’t appear concerned about the fact that you passed out, but god is he relieved to finally hear your voice again.

“ah, i should call the doctor.”

but his face remains buried in your hair.

“they told me to do so.”

“you should-”

“why?!” he abruptly reacts, drawing back. “does anything hurt?”

“chill. you said that they told you to.”

“oh, that’s right.” he sheepishly smiles. he can’t help but to overreact; he hasn’t turned off the alarms in his head. “i’ll go tell the nurse to get her.”

he starts to walk towards the door, but a tug at his shirt holds him back.

you shyly look at him with a scrunch of your nose. “i’m nervous. hug me for five more seconds.”

fuck, he would move heaven and earth to protect you from everything that can cause you harm.

“why would you be nervous? i’m right here.” he scolds you lightheartedly, not hesitating to seize the chance to hug you again. “i love you.”

“i love you more.”

you pull away after five seconds, and he’d be disappointed about you being too true to your words if you didn’t kiss him on the cheek so ardently.

his heart almost jumps out of his chest when you gasp out of nowhere as if you just realized that you left the gas tank open at home. your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

“bam!”

oh, right. your child.

“my brother’s house!” he eases your mind.

you breathe out in relief, the heel of your palm pressing against the left side of your chest where your heart lives. “good… i was worried. he was probably more scared because he didn’t understand what was going on. i feel bad.”

you love bam so much; it makes him so happy. you’re so concerned about him even when you’re the one on the hospital bed. you make pretty good parents, huh?

“that’s right. he was worried about you, too. that’s why you need to recover quickly so he won’t be sad!”

—

the doctor kindly asked jungkook to give the two of you some time alone, so he’s been idly sitting at the lobby after buying a bottle of water. he’s pretty much used to visiting the hospital for routine checkups considering the nature of his job, but it always feels strange to be here for the other different purposes of the place.

is there any other building sadder than this?

if you heard him utter this question, he could easily predict what you’d say: but is there any other building with more love?

if he tries hard enough, he could listen to your voice and paint you in his mind.

you see love in every place that you step foot into.

his curious eyes continue to wander around. he spots people carrying flowers, baskets, and containers of food. there’s also a teenage boy in his high school uniform, carrying a teddy bear larger than him.

not that he wants you to stay longer, but if you have to, he writes down a mental note to bring one of your favorite plushies.

he eventually gets tired; considers scrolling on his phone again, but he decides against it when his gaze lands on a little boy sleeping soundly on his mother’s lap. suddenly, he is reminded of his childhood before he moved to seoul.

how simple life can be when you’re innocently sleeping on your mother’s lap, trusting that everything will be alright.

“ah, i miss my mom…” he utters absentmindedly. “i miss my mom so much. i should call her.”

his reminiscing is interrupted when a wheelchair rolls by infront of him. it is leisurely being pushed by an old man who wants to bring his wife outside for some fresh air.

in a parallel universe somewhere, jungkook can imagine them as you and him.

he sits up straight, looking back at the clock on the wall.

how long has it been? he wants to be by your side again.

—

“jungkook!” your face lights up as soon as your boyfriend steps into the room. “what took you so long?”

“i know. sorry, baby. i got a little distracted outside.”

“i’ve been waiting.” you pout. “why? were people bothering you?”

“not at all. don’t worry.”

you pat the empty space beside you. “here.”

“i think the bed is meant for only one person- damn, okay, okay-”

he swiftly gives in upon seeing the hurt on your face, occupying the space you reserved for him. “i love you. don’t be sad.”

you’re aching too much to wait for him to get settled. you wrap your arms around his waist like you’re a magnet attracted to steel, clinging to him for comfort.

if you’re being honest, you don’t know how you feel about being in this situation. overwhelmed? maybe a tiny bit relieved. in the past, it didn’t matter whether you were sick or not. you needed to work or else it was guaranteed that you wouldn’t survive. life is easier now. you have the luxury to use this as a reason to take a break. you have someone who takes care of you as naturally as he breathes.

“how was the doctor?”

“she’s nice… she just asked me about the things i remember before i passed out. then about my work, diet, sleeping schedule… stuff like that.”

you pull away a little, just enough so you can see each other’s face. you squint at him suspiciously. “did you have to get an expensive room?”

he chuckles. “how did you know? they didn’t tell you that, did they?”

“i literally have the perfect view of the fountain from here!” you point at the large window behind you. “i just passed out. i would’ve been fine downstairs.”

“don’t say it like that. it could’ve been so much worse.” he says with knitted eyebrows, palm cupping the back of your head and caressing softly.

he heaves a sigh.

“i was so scared that you injured your head. seriously, i thought i’d go insane if i lost you! i went past the speed limit driving you here!”

the distress he was under is apparent. you can’t help but to be racked with the guilt. you always do this, making him worry himself to death. you don’t usually do it purpose, and that only makes you feel shittier.

“you’re right. i’m sorry.”

“well, i…” he sighs. “it’s okay. i know you didn’t want this either. it’s not your fault.”

you press your lips into a thin line. “it kind of is.”

your lost eyes meet, and a connection is established like it’s a constellation sending a secret message. your heart flutters when he giggles, dimples and starry eyes and crinkled corners.

“stop it. it’s impossible to scold you when you’re so cute and self-aware.”

“then don’t scold me.” you sniffle sadly to kindle pity in him. “i’ve had enough of it from the doctor.”

your brain still works well enough to help you escape from trouble. that’s a good sign, right?

“my poor baby.” he coos, cradling your cheeks.

his hands are warm. you put yours over them; a wordless signal telling him you don’t want him to go away.

“let’s not get hurt again, please. we need to stay healthy and take good care of ourselves so this won’t happen again, alright?”

you nod in obedience. your eyes are fixed on him but you’re not certain if you’re registering what he’s telling you in your pitiful, shaken brain.

“the hospital already did me many favors. if we go back, i might have to build them another fountain as a gift.”

and knowing jungkook, with his golden heart and his black card, jokes become half-meant.

“what do they need that for?!”

he bursts out laughing, yet again, after you chide at him for his ridiculous and unnecessary expenses.

“nothing, i’m just grateful! i was really so scared but i’m relieved now thanks to them. i can’t remember the last time i felt that way.”

“you’re not scared of a lot of things.” you point out.

“that’s right.” he agrees. “only you scare me these days.”

you grimace. “am i scary?”

“you are, sometimes.” he laughs, squishing your cheeks together. “but i mean the things that could hurt you.”

as if on cue, your stomach grumbles and bellows like a monster stuck in an empty cave. your eyes grow twice its size in bewilderment, which then morphs into embarrassment.

“my stomach hurts.” you say quietly.

your nostrils flare as jungkook miserably fails to hold back his laughter. one of his hands leave your face, rubbing your tummy over the thin hospital gown.

“oh no, what are we going to do? where does it hurt? here?” he pouts. “should we go feed you now to make it go away?”

“what is wrong with you?” you slap his shoulder in annoyance. “i’m not a baby!”

“yah, be careful!” he yells, wincing as if he is the one in pain. “be gentle with the one with the iv!”

—

“you know one good thing that came out of this?” you gush out of nowhere.

you’re mixing up the ingredients of your bibimbap bowl with a spoon and a pair of chopsticks.

jungkook noisily drinks the final sips of his banana milk. afterwards, he makes a game out of shooting the box in the trash bin.

“what could that be?” he asks, doubtful.

he sits on the chair beside your bed. you greet him with a delighted grin, licking your thumb stained with gochujang.

“you proved your love. you committed a crime for me.”

he gasps to humor you, body freezing as if he’s currently processing the newly-learned information in his brain.

“oh? you’re right- i did! and you know what? i’d do it again!”

with a mouthful of rice, you shake your head in disagreement furiously. “you’re cute. but that’s the first and last.”

“but how are you sure that it’s the first?” he raises an eyebrow quizically.

silly enough, you envy him for being able to do so.

you hum in thought. “i guess you’ve stolen a few things for me, too.”

“few? you mean a loooot?”

“you’re the one who brings home food and random things.” you roll your eyes. “i never ask you to.”

“you told me you wanted the service bell!”

you feel yourself become flushed with sheepishness. he’s not lying. you’ve always found the object fascinating as a child, so you couldn’t help but to tell him to sneakily take one home after filming a competitive run bts episode.

did you have a silly phase where you and jungkook used it to summon each other just to laugh together about it?

perhaps.

“well, you’re rich. you could’ve bought me one instead.”

“but it was already there.” he reasons with a wide grin, gesturing infront of him. “i wanted to give it to my lover right away.”

his lover?

jungkook has successfully replaced your frown with an enamored smile.

“i made your heart flutter just now, didn’t i?”

a hospital stay has never felt this comfortable— not terrifying. you have stitches on your face and to add to that, this hospital gown feels super unflattering. somehow, your boyfriend’s loving gaze remains steady and you are melting.

“shut up,” you mutter, flustered, handing him the pair of chopsticks. “please eat with me. i can’t finish this on my own.”

—

“why would you let them put the needle in my dominant hand?”

you stomp your feet on the ground as jungkook squeezes some toothpaste onto a newly-bought toothbrush.

“i’m sorry! i was too stressed out so i just pointed! i think i got confused with- with left and right.”

you didn’t realize this while you were eating; that you were unconsciously holding the spoon with your non-dominant hand because the other felt uncomfortable. maybe because it was a simple task, scooping food and bringing it to your mouth. brushing your teeth, on the other hand… can be quite an arm workout.

“eeeee!”

he shows his complete set of teeth, urging you to do the same. you stare at him blankly.

“eeeee!” he repeats with heightened enthusiasm.

left with no other choice— you copy his awkward smile.

“there we go!” he praises you with an over-enthusiastic beam.

he carries on to brush your teeth, gingerly holding your chin to keep you steady as he does his job.

this is the first time jungkook is doing this for you. today is definitely not one of your finest moments. it feels a bit silly to be in this situation, and you feel bad for putting your boyfriend in this position in the first place. you can see that he’s trying his best—unnecessarily focused—and that he loves you, but you just hate giving him a hard time.

with a soft smile, he wipes the bubbles that overflowed past your lips.

“okay, spit.”

you spit out more of the bubbles on the sink. you assume that he’s finished, except he’s making another vowel sound for you to mimic the mouth shape of.

“ahhhh-”

“this is embarrassing!”

“baby, really? this is where you draw the line?” he playfully squeezes your cheeks together. “it’s almost over! ahhhh!”

and you let him do this thing, but not without a glare that is masking the embarrassing truth: you might be enjoying this more than you care to admit.

“see? was that so bad?”

as he tenderly pats your face dry in the aftermath, he says: “i’m sorry. bear with it a little more. let me take care of you so you’ll be healthy again.” and you feel every ounce of his sincerity pierce through the barriers surrounding your soul.

“stop it…” your voice suddenly comes out broken.

you want to put all the blame on your period for the tears that are now brimming your eyes, but jungkook is your biggest weakness of all and that is an explanation enough.

“why are you crying?” he panics. “what did i say?”

“it’s your fault.”

you break down into loud sobs, incapable of even keeping your eyes open. you never understood why we close our eyes when we cry, but right now, you know that you can’t bear to witness his reaction.

“you’re so sweet.”

the towel that was wiping the water from your mouth is now drying the tears from your stained cheeks.

“am i making you sad?”

you furiously shake your head. how could he say such a thing? he is the greatest joy of your life.

“no?”

“no!”

“okay, come here then.”

he wraps his arms around your trembling figure, caging you in the solace of his entire existence. a sense of calmness washes over your system, especially as he runs his hand across your back in gentle strokes. this isn’t his goal though, it seems. you hear none of his quiet shushes beseeching you to stop breaking his heart. he hopes you let go of everything that has been weighing on you, but he has already eased all your pains by loving you.

“ugh, i probably look horrible right now.” you force a chuckle to lighten up the mood, wiping your face with the back of your free hand. “i feel gross.”

“that’s not true.” he gazes at you fondly, brushing your hair with his fingers. “it’s actually infuriating how you look so beautiful still.”

“i know. i’m nice to look at; that’s why you tolerate my attitude.” you conclude in jest.

“yeah, sometimes.” he rides on the joke.

“what…?”

“i’m joking!” he rushes to take it back with a laugh. “of course i’m joking!”

you pout. “are you really?”

“oh, come onnnn.”

he coaxes you with a kiss on the lips— a good morning kiss long overdue. you’ve been spoiled rotten with affection; he knows you need more than one. he interrupts himself several times to kiss you.

“you know i’ll love you until our hair turns white and our skin all wrinkly.”

to be brutally honest, you’re not fond of imagining that far ahead. it’s daunting. you doubt your capability to age with grace. you’re horrified by the thought of having the majority of your life behind you. nostalgia has always been more bitter than sweet. but maybe this memory could be the sweetest of all, if jungkook truly stays by your side until then. in a cottage at the countryside like he said once, or a cabin by the ocean.

you’re both so young; so arrogant when it comes to making promises that are a shot in the dark. so fucking in love.

“me too.” you half-smile, scrunching your nose— a telltale sign of your joy. “now, get out. i really need to pee.”

his face becomes drained of blood. “but you’re st-”

“i won’t lock the door this time.” you cup his cheek, looking at his eyes reassuringly. “we don’t need property damage added to the bill.”

—

“did you not hurt yourself?”

“me?”

“you broke down the door. that’s not easy to do.”

you and jungkook make the best out of a bad deal. you’re squeezed together on the bed, browsing through television channels that seem to never end.

“it was easy because you were on the other side of it.”

that is what he claims confidently, but you are not fully convinced.

“wow, why do they have more channels than we do at home?”

“you didn’t answer my question.” you pout. “did you hurt yourself?”

“i didn’t hurt myself. i’m totally okay. i promise.”

he maintains eye-contact as he speaks. given the assurance, your tight chest unrestricts. jungkook is not a good liar. it’s a trait that causes him inconvenience every now and then, but it helps you to sleep soundly at night.

“should we just watch funny animal videos on youtube?”

“i guess that’s fine.”

it doesn’t show but you feel excitement run in your veins aside from the iv fluids that feel peculiarly cold.

from under your cheek, his chest vibrates with a giggle. “okay, hold on.”

as he pulls up the application, you tangle your legs together beneath the thin blanket. you hear the rapid tap tap tap of the remote control navigating the keypad while he types on the search bar, but your attention is someplace else. you��ve found the crook of his neck to sneak into, lazily kissing every inch of his exposed skin. your lips eventually trail up to his jaw. he smells so nice. you’re addicted.

“baby, someone can enter any minute.”

“i’m not doing anything.” you mumble.

you smile against his lips when he gives you a kiss as sweet as honey anyway.

“i’m curious about another thing.”

“what’s that?”

“did you cry?”

he comes to a still. the answer to that question requires a little time and thought.

“almost…”

“why almost?”

“no time. i had to bring you here, of course.” he replies.

you huff a laugh, exhaling a twinge of melancholia. “don’t cry.”

“i won’t. i’m happy now because you’re awake and fighting with me.”

“ow-”

your cry of pain is silenced when he squeezes you in an embrace that makes it nearly impossible to breathe.

“red panda!”

a squeal assaults both of your hearing as soon as your eyes land on the wide screen infront of the bed.

“i want one so fucking bad.”

the enunciated curse makes your boyfriend crack up in amusement. “that much?!”

—

jungkook opens his eyes to a nurse lightly nudging him awake.

“i’m sorry, i had to wake you up. i need to check vitals and draw blood.”

“shit, i’m sorry.” he panics.

his brain is foggy from the nap, but he still carefully sits up on the bed, wary of the iv line connected to your hand.

“i… was tired and i fell asleep.”

“it’s no problem; don’t worry.”

she smiles at him, but he doesn’t see it.

“you look adorable sleeping.”

“ah, really?” he awkwardly responds, absentminded. “it’s embarrassing.”

he stands on your side, about to disturb your peaceful rest much as it makes his heart ache with guilt, but you’re already stirring due to the absence of his warmth.

your heavy eyelids blink at the nurse in curiosity. “oh… do you need my blood?”

“yes, but i’ll take your blood pressure and temperature first.”

“okay,” you mumble, offering your arm. “it might be higher now because i’m scared.”

she chuckles at your joke. jungkook tries to share an endeared look with her and non-verbally communicate adorable, right?

“i promise i’ll be quick. although we definitely want it to be higher than earlier’s.”

you wince as the cuff around your upper arm goes as tight as it could, and you sigh at the same time that it begins to deflate.

“good, good, good,” she chants with a mumble. “it’s back in the normal range again…”

she brings out a digital thermometer from her pocket.

“you know where this goes.”

she hands it over to you, and you awkwardly place it in your armpit, holding it in place. it’s quiet as you wait for the device to make the beeping sound, except for her pen creating friction with your chart as she takes down notes.

“how’s your stitches? do you feel any discomfort?”

“it’s fine. thank you.”

not long after, you hear the beep. you return the thermometer to her, but not before taking a peak at the numbers displayed on the tiny screen. 36.8°C. you think you’ll live.

“i’ll draw your blood now.”

the nurse’s voice is sweet and reassuring, but it doesn’t quite ease the nervousness evident on your expression. your pupils shake as you watch her disinfect the area, and then comes out the long needle.

another one, jungkook laments inside.

“____, i’m right here.”

you crane your head, whimpering out his name. “jungkook,”

“it will be just a pinch. i’m inserting the needle now, alright?”

you take a sharp inhale.

if only he could switch positions with you, he would do it in a heartbeat. unfortunately, all he can do is caress your hair and whisper that it will be over soon.

“it hurts.” your damp eyelashes flutter, face twisting in discomfort. “i don’t like it.”

really, just a pinch? obviously a lie.

“hey, baby. look at the tv.”

the autoplay was left turned on after you fell asleep together. inside the screen is a puppy rolling around a snow-covered lawn. the wagging of its tail, the wide smile, and the pupils as big as boba balls: they all scream the happiness of an innocent.

“it’s so cute… i miss bam already. can we go to a dog park again?”

“of course!”

that promise sparks your smile. you turn to your side, and jungkook also catches a glimpse of the cotton taped to where you were poked.

“all done. you can go back to resting.”

“thank you. will you need to take blood again?” you inquire at the nurse.

“hm, probably. it depends on the doctor based on the results we get from this one.”

“can’t you just do it while i’m asleep? or is that not allowed?”

“baby…” jungkook snorts, hiding his face behind the palm of his hands.

the nurse laughs at your desperate suggestion. “that is honestly not a rare request, but the thing is… you might wake up in the middle of it and injure yourself. we can’t do that.”

“that won’t be a problem!” you passionately argue your case. “i’m a deep sleeper. seriously!”

“ah, thank you so much for your hard work!”jungkook intervenes, bowing to the nurse out of respect and gratitude. “i’m sure you’re busy. i will handle this!”

“oh yes, yes- thank you. please don’t forget the medicine for after dinner.”

“i won’t!”

“if you need anything, you know where to find me again.”

“yes,” he nods, chuckling. “thank you.”

“then i should leave…? but you’ll see me again later! bye!”

the door shuts, and his attention lands on your unimpressed form: a blank stare and arms folded infront of your chest.

uh-oh.

“did she seriously wink while saying that?”

“what?” he freezes, genuinely clueless. “i don’t know. i didn’t see anything. i was looking at you.”

“i’m right here- i’m the patient. why would you need anything from her? huh? why is she so excited to see you again?” you ramble angrily.

“right?!”

he climbs on the bed, reclaiming his spot next to you.

“that was weird.”

“what if she made it hurt on purpose? that…” you frown, glancing at your arm. “that didn’t really feel like a pinch to me.”

“ey, calm down. she wouldn’t.” he makes a doubtful face, laughing off the accusation. “…i don’t think so?”

you blink, exhaling in disbelief. “are you taking her side now?”

“of course not! baby, i’m just saying… a professional won’t do that.”

“why not? she’s still human. humans do stupid things when they like someone. she obviously likes you.”

“and so what?”

he grins with a spark of mischief, leaving an inch of a distance between your lips.

“i’m obviously yours.”

but you turn your cheek and your eyes fall on your lap, a pout highlighting your downcast mood.

“it’s so annoying.”

the regret sinks in after. he should’ve stuck to the golden rule: agree with everything that you say. there’s no point in having an argument no one will win. does it matter who’s right and wrong if each other’s sadness is contagious in addition to their own? your gut has almost always been right, and he’s old enough to be conscious of not allowing a stranger to put a dent on your relationship.

“are you serious? are you uncomfortable?” he tilts his head to try and get a better look at your face. “should i request for a different nurse?”

it’s quiet for a beat and he feels inclined to fill the silence with whatever enters his mind.

“i love you.”

almost immediately, your features soften and he knows your heart is also melting. the two of you bite the inside of your cheeks to hide a smile.

“no, there’s no need for that.”

but he still can’t help but to be worried. your peace of mind is his top priority. he doesn’t want you to be more stressed out, especially by things that he has the power to solve.

“are you sure?”

“she pissed me off. i need to piss her off too.”

of course, his ever stubborn and competitive lover. he sits up properly, amused and curious.

“and how will you do that?”

“i don’t know,” you nonchalantly shrug. “i’ll come up with something.”

—

“come up with what?”

to your surprise, a voice you haven’t heard in weeks echoes from the door.

“mom…?”

you’re stunned after only hearing yourself react to jungkook’s mother’s unexpected entrance. your head whips to his direction; your eyes wordlessly interrogating him.

“i need to go to work so i called her to watch over you.” he explains.

“why would you do that?” you argue with him as quietly as possible, lips barely moving as you try to hide your face from your mother-in-law. again, not one of your finest moments. “you didn’t have to. i can take care of myself.”

“but you don’t have to because you have us.”

jungkook marks the conversation finished with a kiss pressed to your temple, leaving you dumbfounded. he jumps off the bed and for a split second, you make eye-contact with his mother before he towered over her for a quick hug.

her kind smile is embroidered in your memory; a memory that wraps your heart in a type of warmth only a mother can provide.

“mom! i’m sorry. i really, really, really need to leave now. but! i’ll try to come back early so you can go home early too.”

“aigoo, stop stressing yourself out.”

jungkook receives a slap on the back, somehow more loving can scolding.

“i can stay the night so do what you need to do. you don’t have to worry.”

“it’s not only because i’m worried!”

she sassily puts a hand over her waist. it takes everything in you not to laugh out loud.

“then what else?”

“mom! what else?” he cheekily smiles. “of course i’ll miss ____ too much.”

did your boyfriend just…? to his mother? your jaw becomes slack from the shame.

“i missed ____ too!” she contests. “go to work and give us our alone time.”

you shyly smile when she transfers her attention from her son to you.

“hello, my baby. are you hungry?”

—

“does my son feed you well?”

“he does! but it’s funny- other mothers ask the opposite. are you feeding my son well? do you make sure he’s comfortable?”

you think out loud, transfixed on how she peels oranges with ease. your hands would always be stained by the juices, (and eyes red and teary from accidental splashes) (it’s too embarrassing to even think about) but hers are still magically clean.

“is that so?”

you graciously accept the slice she feeds you. she laughs when your face lights up like a christmas tree one more time. it’s way sweeter than you anticipated. you can’t get over how delicious it is.

“mhmm!”

perhaps you relied too much on dramas when it came to your expectations of what a relationship with your in-laws would look like. you imagined yourself running around like a dog trying to prove yourself worthy of their son, yet for some reason, it looks like they adore you for simply existing. it makes you feel extremely grateful, but you don’t understand.

“mom, i have a question… i know it’s probably too late to ask this now, but…”

“what could that be?”

“are you really not against me and jungkook living together?” you swallow your fear of the possibility of an unpleasant truth. “are you not… worried… that i’m receiving too much from him?”

because you would understand the apprehension. as a parent, one’s main concern would be their child. to outside eyes, it’s easy to come to the conclusion that jungkook is being taken advantage of and he’d be better off dating someone with the same status. sometimes you wish you were that someone too.

she utters your name sadly.

“he receives happiness and love from you. those are the most valuable things you could give to a person.”

she caresses your hair like she wants to erase the anxiety poisoning your mind.

“my dear, how come you’re worried about that until now? haven’t we told you? you’re part of the family. forget about my sister! i don’t welcome her negativity in our house!”

“living together is different. it’s a big deal. it normally happens in a relationship after…” the following words feel foreign in your mouth; they come out quieter than the rest of your sentence. “getting married.”

“then tell me. why did you agree to live with him?”

because you’re selfish. because you want more time that you can have him all to yourself. because you want to be accessible— the first person he runs to when he’s seeking comfort and stability. because you want goodnight and good morning kisses. because you were afraid of the risks but you’ve grown addicted to the thrill of love.

“he said… no matter how hard i push him away, he will stay within my reach.”

you hear your own shaky breathing. that moment— it’s still burned into your memory. you’re still holding on to it. it’s a promise he is yet to break and you pray that he never, ever does.

“i don’t want to push him away. i want to be within his reach too.”

you’re two people loving each other with everything within your means. after the endless pains and the deafening noise, you like to think that’s what makes this relationship worth fighting for.

“does my opinion still matter knowing that? will you let me stop you?”

“no, i won’t. i’d make you change your mind.”

if you had a machine connected to you, she would see how your heart rate has gone off the charts. but you’re known to say whatever’s on your mind and that, much to your dismay, isn’t switched off despite sitting infront of the woman who birthed and raised the love of your life.

you sniffle, pursing your lips nervously. “but i feel like there might be a right answer to that one.”

what you didn’t expect was her to laugh until her belly hurts; placing a hand over her mouth in an effort to calm herself down and keep grace.

“mom! stop, i’m so embarrassed!”

“no, ____, don’t get me wrong!”

she is teary-eyed as she gathers herself together.

“the more time i spend with you, the more i realize why jungkook loves you so much. i’ve seen him show incredible commitment twice. do you know that? first, when he went to seoul to become a singer. second, when he told us he got an apartment because he wants to be with you… of course, as his mother, i’ll admit that he’s young when he made those decisions, but he always proves to me that he’s smart and responsible.”

the urge to cry returns and strengthens as she speaks. you feel your eyelashes become damp with unshed tears. you don’t know how to act. you fiddle with your fingers. you stare at the strings and peels of the oranges you can still taste.

“i believe we both know jungkook’s personality well. he wouldn’t have let me stop him either. i’m happy to know that you’ll fight for him too.”

“thank you…”

“tsk, tsk, tsk- what is there to cry about? jungkook will get angry at me if he discovers that i made you cry.”

she wipes away your tears; however, the unmistakable scent of oranges that has clung to her hands and the affection in her tone bring forth a waterfall.

“seeing this makes me sadder.” she laments, referring to the stitches on your face.

“me too,” you babble in the midst of quiet sobs. “it makes me sad. it’s so ugly.”

—

you can’t remember the last time you felt this alone. perhaps it’s the effect of staying in an unfamiliar building of complete strangers. without your mobile phone, may you add. you managed to persuade jungkook’s mother to leave an hour ago because you didn’t want her to sleep on the uncomfortable couch.

the lights are turned off except for the lamp beside your bed, and with the television muted, you could hear a hairpin drop.

you’re alone and you can do whatever you want.

you dragged the visitor’s chair infront of the window to admire the garden like it’s a painting in motion. you watched people converse, stroll, and drink coffee. you watched them run for shelter when the clouds became too heavy and the sky began to fall. oh, so that’s why you couldn’t see the stars.

at this moment, there’s nothing left to amuse yourself with but the trembling of the leaves and the raindrops forming temporary rings when they fall in the water fountain.

your senses crave for more. you reach over and crack open the window, just enough to allow the sound of the rain and the scent of it permeating the earth to enter your room.

“this is kind of peaceful.” you whisper, amazed by the new lightness carried by your heart.

you close your eyes and you breathe in the petrichor deeply. you want nature in your lungs as a reminder that you’re alive. you welcome the cold wind kissing your face. you can feel your hair touching your neck. you always do, but for once, you’re choosing to acknowledge it. your thumb slowly brushes across the palm of your hand, perceiving the texture of your skin, the softness, and the lines. and your feet, they’re in the clouds, the fluffy slippers jungkook’s mother bought outside because she knows they’re your favorite to wear.

you’ve loved and despised this body for a million different reasons. your mind and heart have accepted defeat countless times, but your body wakes up to every brand new day without fail. your body implores you to live. did it finally give up on you today?

“baby!”

you look behind to search for the source of the sound.

you get your answer from the kiss planted on your lips.

you only saw his face for a split second, but even if you had your eyes closed, you’d know it has to be jungkook kissing you.

you can smell him. you’ve memorized the way the shape of his lips fits with yours.

oh, the sounds of his kisses too. you like to call them the butterfly call because they make butterflies appear in your stomach.

you could trace the scar on his cheek with your finger if you want to.

god, what a privilege it is to experience life in this vessel.

a knock on the door forces you to part too early. the same nurse from earlier enters and you internally scream all the curse words in your dictionary. jungkook acknowledges her with a bow and a quick ‘hello’ before squatting down infront of you.

“i committed another crime for you today.”

“huh?”

your wide, confused eyes take a glimpse at the nurse who is doing something with the controls of your iv line.

hahaha… she knows he’s not serious, right?

“what did you do?”

his smile is so big that his eyes have turned into little crescent moons. you’d make a guess but there is an infinite amount of things jungkook could possibly be this excited about.

…apparently, one of them would be strawberry cake.

you gape at the transparent box he was hiding behind his back all along.

“did you steal somebody’s birthday cake?!”

“it’s a producer’s birthday and he received lots of cakes, so he told me i can take one home.”

“how is it stealing if he allowed you to take it?”

he tosses his backpack on the couch as he sets down the box on the table. he rummages through the bag his mother left behind, successfully bringing out a spoon. meanwhile, you get your blood pressure taken again.

as he opens the box, he sends a smirk your way.

“no. i hid the strawberry cake because there’s so many who wanted to eat it.”

“are you crazy?!”

the nurse clicks her tongue. “don’t talk and stay still, please.”

“oh,” your hand flies to your mouth on instinct. “i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry.” jungkook also apologizes.

you and your boyfriend secretly share a look, exchanging a smile that is stifled laughter inside. your lips remain zipped as the nurse restarts the process of taking your blood pressure. on the other hand, jungkook eats a spoonful of cake, teasingly wiggling his eyebrows at you. you roll your eyes and he tries harder to laugh without a sound.

seconds later, he grumbles about the room being too warm. he wipes the beads of sweat on his forehead using the back of his hand, and he does the worst thing he could possibly do at this moment. he reaches for his back, pulling his sweater over his head. naturally, his inner shirt rides up and allows wandering eyes a peak at his glorious toned abdomen.

passed out in the shower. busted your eyebrow open. front-row seat for a woman flirting and ogling at your boyfriend.

how fucking great.

“hello? i think it’s done.” you snap.

“a-ah, yes.”

you hear her swallow as she removes the cuff from your arm. she may be wearing a mask but she’s hot and red all the way to her ears. you’ve only read about it in books. you didn’t even believe this could happen in real life until now.

“i will check your temperature too.”

“go on.”

you repeat the same process from hours earlier, drumming your fingers on your thigh as you wait for the beep.

“yah, why is the window open? you’ll catch a cold.”

jungkook, yet again, steals the attention of every person in the room when he rises to his feet. his shadow casts over you as he closes the window.

“i wanted to smell the rain.”

“is the room getting too stuffy for you?”

you shrug. “i just wanted to smell the rain.”

you feel the nurse’s stare. you offer her a smile and her nameplate briefly gets caught by your vision. kang ji-woo.

“ji-woo; that’s a pretty name.” you pay her a sincere compliment. “it’s healing, don’t you think?”

“yes? uh-uhm, y-yes…” she replies, unsure and confused by the sudden small talk. “actually, it’s been linked to a reduction in stress and anxiety levels.”

“thank you! babe, did you hear that?”

“uhuh, think about my stress and anxiety levels.” he leans against the window with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you.

so now he’s flexing his arm muscles. cool, cool, cool. you know he’s not doing it on purpose and his entire existence is just naturally hot and it’s infuriating.

“i’ve been worried sick about you all day.”

his statement makes you frown for a new reason. at the same moment, the thermometer beeps.

“could you please tell him that i’m fine?”

“37.3, uhhh- that’s slightly above normal. how do you feel? does your head hurt? are you cold?”

“i feel fine though?”

“okay. please take a lot of rest and stay warm…” her gaze lingers at jungkook who is blocking the window. “keep the window closed. hopefully it won’t be higher when i check again later.”

seriously?! you could cry. you want to go home where it’s comfortable. where it’s only you and jungkook and bam.

but you bet somebody would be happy if you had to stay longer.

“i’ll look after ____.” your boyfriend sighs, pulling out a jacket from his backpack.

“you shouldn’t have kissed me. what if you get sick?”

your blatantness causes the nurse to pause in updating your chart. she awkwardly clears her throat. “yeah… that… that isn’t currently advisable.”

“i’m sorry. i’ll control myself.”

you earn a glare from jungkook, then he fakes a smile which you gladly return.

“before you go, may i request for a new blanket? sorry, i spilled something earlier.”

“sure thing! i’ll come back with that right away.”

—

“she seemed happy to leave.” jungkook remarks. “i can’t tell if you were actually being nice or being passive aggressive.”

you smile innocently, taking a bite off the strawberry you stole from the top of the cake. “i’m a fucking angel.”

damn it, why is he suddenly turned on?

were you serious about the no kiss rule?

“would you rather i be the type to pull their hair?”

he shakes his head with a laugh. “but you did slap someone once.”

“you want to see me that furious again?”

“never in my wildest dreams.”

he kisses the top of your head, producing an exaggerated ‘mmmwah!’ sound that makes you giggle happily.

“here, have some more cake.”

he offers you a spoonful of cake.

no, it’s bigger.

as a matter of fact, the piece could probably pass off as a cupcake.

you gawk at it as if you’re figuring out the logistics of putting it in your mouth. his heart does a flip when you tilt your head and do your best to take in the whole thing. however, in the middle of it, you decide that you can’t, and you end up biting it off a little more than halfway.

oh my god, he loves you. he loves you. you’re so fucking cute.

your cheeks are full as you struggle to chew. you cover your mouth with your hand but they don’t touch. you’re so elegant in your ways and sometimes he wonders how you’re still attracted to him after he acts stupid.

also, plain white nails? that’s new. you always want colors.

“your nails look pretty.”

he is so focused on you that he fails to take notice of another presence occupying the room.

“your mom did them for me.”

“i figured. she wants to do mother-daughter things with you.”

the short break of silence speaks volumes. you look at him, blinking with eyes hinting at a type of joy you’re lost on how to express.

“did you choose white?”

“no. we were watching a drama and it was the couple’s wedding.”

oh, that makes total sense.

“let me guess,” he trails off with a half-embarrassed, half-entertained smile. “she asked when we will get married?”

“why would she ask me that? how would i know?” you scoff.

his heart starts at a thousand miles per hour. fuck, are you hinting at him? are you messing with his feelings again? with you, he always needs to remind himself to be rational.

“i need more time to prove to you that i’m husband material.”

“what? stop it. i don’t care. i don’t need a ring.”

your unpredictableness pushes him to the edge of his seat.

“don’t pressure yourself. you already treat me way better than most husbands do their wives.”

the pride painted on your face is unmistakable. he feels his heart swelling in his chest. has he been doing a better job than he originally thought? after what happened today, he was terrified that he hasn’t been paying enough attention to you.

“i’m so happy with what we have.”

you offer him a delicate smile before eating the rest of the cake that was left on the spoon. he swears there’s a glowing halo above your head.

could your temperature have magically dropped in the past five minutes? would you kill him if he kissed you right now?

“is there anything else i could assist you with?”

and then he is rudely snapped out of his hopeless adoration and daydreaming.

“that’s all! thank you for your hard work!” you chirp.

he turns to the nurse with a lovesick grin.

“please come to our wedding.”

the unforeseen wedding invitation earns him a slap on the chest. he clutches the affected area, wincing in pain.

he hears you mutter. “don’t invite strangers to our wedding.”

the irritated glare he predicted to face isn’t there. rather, you’re wearing the flustered smile he only sees when he knows that he did something to make you fall for him all over again.

before ji-woo left, she tried to subtly reject the invitation by jokingly saying that she’d die to go, but most probably, she’d have to work that day. you know… being an overworked hospital employee and all. you caught her glancing at you with bitterness failed to be guised as indifference. you get it. you’d hate it if another person was in your place. frankly speaking, you could be miles pettier.

your boyfriend wipes the corner of your lips, thoughtless as he licks off the cake frosting from his thumb.

damn it, you wish she was also here for that.

“you haven’t stopped smiling.”

“you love me and you never let me forget that.”

you give an answer despite the lack of a question mark.

you just made his world stop spinning on its axis and you’re not even aware.

jungkook knows the heavenly feeling of knowing that he is loved, but he has never deeply considered the joy and relief when the person he loves believes that he loves them.

“i’m so lucky. i love you.”

you push yourself up to plant a kiss on his forehead. it’s a rarity he treasures and keeps.

“i love you too.”

he cries infront of you.

almost.

he excuses himself to the bathroom and cries in there a little.

you’re so easy to love— that’s why it makes him want to do difficult things for you. like commit more crimes?

[heavenbarnes]

Hello I’m ruminating on olderbf!Simon and how down bad I am for him. I have so many thoughts that do not relate to each other but I would love to just braindump on ya if I may!

-olderbf!Simon and reader obviously into voyeurism/exhibitionism with the other 141 and hearing all of their dirty thoughts, but I get the sense that Simon would NOT like to hear literally anyone else talking that way about his girl. Like if a recruit or lower rank soldier saw reader and said something gross in earshot of Simon we might actually have a murder on our hands. What do you think?

-when/if reader ever gets bratty, how might Simon punish her? Maybe instead of having punishment sex he would actually withhold his dick from her? But then ofc he’s also horny and depraved so it ends up being as much of a punishment for him

-how do you envision them sharing a bed? Are they big spooners or does Simon run so hot that reader can’t handle him being nearby?

Anyway I need to lie down now I’m unwell about him xoxo

read this in the carpark before work and had to ruminate on it all day until now 🫶🏼

there was an internal battle your older bf!simon was facing. there was a part of him, a filthy part of him, that damn near needed everyone to know how good you could be for him.

but there was a bigger part that’d rather die than have anyone think of you like that.

enter 141.

men that simon could literally trust with his life, knew him better than anyone (anyone other than you). he could trust them with his life and he could trust them with a group chat full of your most intimate moments.

however, anyone else tried to even think about you? intimately or not?

there wasn’t a place they could hide.

“jesus, L.T- the fuckin’ sight a’that”

“woah, the things i’d do to-“

one stone faced expression hidden behind a balaclava, another fighting a shit eating grin off his face.

“i’d start runnin’ if i wa’you”

not like they’d ever be able to run fast enough.

and your older bf!simon knows orders better than anyone. lives by them, loves by them.

so when you’ve acted out, he knows that you need an order- need something to get you back to sweet and pliant like he’s used to.

no use fucking it back into you, minute he sinks even the tip in- it’s him going dumb and forgetting what the mission even was.

he has to go to the next extreme.

“no touchin’, sweet’art”

your hands went back under your thighs, back pressed to the arm of the couch as you watched the man in front of you. fucking hell.

simon had one rough hand wrapped around his cock, wrist twisting as he tugged himself off. the sounds of his broken moans, the spit slick of his palm.

pure fucking torture.

“please, si”

that nearly did it, he nearly gave in with one little whimper from you.

“i’ll be good”

simon’s eyes flickered up the length of you, eyes locking with yours. he could see the well of tears on your lower lashes, he could see the way your lip was fixed between your teeth.

“what’ya say then?”

crawling, fucking crawling across the couch to him- you let him feed the tip into your mouth, muffling your words as you spoke.

“m’sorry si”

and when it’s you and your older bf!simon in your bed at the end of a long day, there’s nothing quite like it for him.

he has to be touching you.

up to him? he likes to be spooning you, curve of your back against his chest and your ass nestled nicely against his cock.

where you belong.

but the man’s big and that means that man’s warm so sometimes he has to settle for a hand against your stomach or a leg between yours.

just as long as he’s touching you.

he’s happiest, however, when your head is on his chest and he can see your peaceful little face rise and fall with his breathing. to him, he can almost imagine you exist as one.

when he can hear your little breaths, the tiny (or not so tiny) snores drifting out your lips as he traces the lines of your face with a long finger.

tactile guy is our simon, but only when it comes to you.

[neuroticboyfriend]

we are 8 billion people on a rock. a few things from that:

if there were no reason to live humanity would be extinct

you are not so especially different from the other 8 billion people on this planet that a) you do not also have a reason to live and b) none of the other 8 billion people on this rock would like you. i can assure you more people enjoy your existence than you know.

even if you were the last person on earth there would be god knows how many other living beings to interact with, some domesticated and would also like you.

at least you're not elon musk.

if you disagree with this post, please make your own expressing how you feel instead of exposing another very unwell person to negative thoughts they have also had as well. feel free to add your own (positive) extrapolations though.

[lonelystarrs]

Divide The Love.

Toji Fushiguro x FemReader x Satoru Gojo

You were supposed to be a one night stand, nothing more, nothing important. So how the hell did the three of you end up in this dynamic? Who knows, who cares.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI • 3some f/m only • smutsmutsmut • drabbles • AU toji/Suguru/gojo were house mates • crack • 🌶️ • poly relationship • healthy relationships • Fluff on both more so Gojo • a bit of everything really • gojo’s scene tho <3 🥹

Word count: 7.1k (I am unwell)

Taxing.

That was what it was to be around you and Satoru.

Amusing.

But oh so taxing.

Toji had all but mastered hiding any hint of amusement when around you both afraid if he ever showed the fact he found you funny he’d never live it down. Your behaviour would be deemed acceptable, Satoru was limitless to his goofiness and the kind of influence you really shouldn’t be around.

Then again you egged Satoru on just as much. Ah who was he kidding. You were as bad as each other.

You were supposed to be a simple one night stand, nothing more and nothing less. You weren’t supposed to be anything special, anything different. Pussy was pussy. Wet was wet.

Yet here you were sitting comfortably between the two men like you’d belonged there from the start. It was coming up to a year since Toji brought you back here. a.fucking.year.

Hell, was he even with his ex wife this long?

He hadn’t had another woman in a year either and truthfully, the thought of it now was kinda a turn off. Maybe it was age, maybe it was boredom of same routines in fucking around. He didn’t look at women like he used to -like an opportunity. Instead they walked by him like everyone else on the street because you plagued his damn mind like a disease.

And quiet frankly he didn’t want the cure.

It was 4 months since Satoru wormed his way in as well, and surprisingly he hadn’t seen anyone else in that time. Toji thought it was a mere one off him joining in one night -a simple threesome to make Satoru stop harping on about his crush on you. Toji thought once he got his fill he’d move on like he always did, he’d get bored and instead he carved a seat for himself and became as invested as Toji.

Unbelievable right?

Suguru used to live in this penthouse with the two men but his passing had brought some changes to Gojo. The dynamic was odd and most people laughed off the idea when they heard you were with the two men. It was impossible, ridiculous and foolish.

“Haha! Right, such a woman doesn’t exists. Putting up with one of you? Let alone both? She a witch or something?”

Maybe you were.

You certainly rivalled most beauty standards without all this crap in your face, make up was only really worn if you done something fancy — you did have a strict skin care routine though.

Speaking of which.

“Can you take this shit off my face now?”

You hummed and looked over your shoulder at Toji who was sat on the couch looking less than fucking amused about the face mask you’d put on him.

Gojo was sat before you with his legs crossed — if he were a dog his tail would be wagging. He was fucking beaming at you whilst you applied the face mask on him, his hair clipped up with some kind of clip Toji had no idea how to even explain —he really didn’t care for girly shit. All he could say was Satoru looked like a cockatoo with his fringe up like that.

“You got another 10 minutes yet, you’re so impatient.”

“I’d use every one of those minutes, you need it old man,”

“Off ya fuck manchild.”

“Don’t be jealous of my baby like skin and good looks, youth is with me!”

You flicked Gojo’s forehead with the mask applicator, a wet slap sounding through the room.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“Oh please that didn’t hurt you,”

“It did! Terribly so,”

“Manchild,” Toji repeated whilst he leaned back into the couch again.

What the fuck were they doing? Him, Toji Fushiguro an assassin and Gojo Satoru a leader for a world dominating, family owned corporation sat here wearing face masks because their bratty girlfriend won at some damn video game.

Toji looked down, keeping the back of his head cradled by the sofa. He watched you laughing and Satoru’s blue eyes absolutely beaming at you, watching your every expression as you applied the mask evenly on his face. Even with that disgusting looking shitty green mask on your face, hair tied up into a messy bun, some comfy clothes on —matching coloured baggy lounge trousers with a tight little crop top. You still looked so pretty, you held an air of youth and something refreshing about you, yet you carried yourself like a grown ass woman.

He was older than you by 7 years, you were the same age as Satoru at 30 but you made him feel young again. You gave him that stupid rush he’d missed out on as a teen.

His eyes scanned over your body as you sat crossed legged in front of the other man and even with you hardly at your best right now, even with that ugly mask on your face he’d still absolutely fuck you utterly stupid like this.

There was something about the comfort, the familiarity -the trust and calmness here. That was the point you’d both reached with each other, it brought back fondness from his deceased wife and it made him wonder if he got a second chance at this with you.

Watching you like this, the stupidest, simplest of things stirred something ridiculous in his chest that shot straight to his lower stomach, rushing blood to his cock and he felt it twitch in his baggy sweats.

Toji scowled again before glaring back at the ceiling. God you pissed him off. He didn’t want to feel it. He zoned out from you and Satoru, deciding to block out whatever was around him to concentrate on beating down this horridly pleasant feeling in his chest.

He didn’t hear the whispering.

“Does he know you put a pink mask on him?”

“Nah, I took a photo as well when he wasn’t looking.”

“Even with this hair tied up?”

“Yup, his lil top knot n’all.”

“Heheh. Smart move, you gonna bribe him with it?”

“Absolutely,”

“You’re the girl of my dreams,” Gojo sighed dreamily and you snorted a laugh at him, prodding the end of the applicator against his forehead.

“You’ll be saying that to someone else in a few months with your short attention span.”

“Nuh-uh! Told ya, I’m serious about this.”

You rolled your eyes and put the lid back on your face mask pot, going to stand he stopped you half way, his fingers wrapping around your wrist stopping you from fully standing.

“Hey-“ you hummed in response and looked down to Satoru, the amusement dropped from his face, that usual playful tone replaced with a rare softness. “-m’serious, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

You seen his jaw clench and his blue eyes glanced over you to Toji, who remained glaring at the ceiling tuning out from your conversation, before shifting off else were awkwardly looking at something across the room.

“Nothin’ don’t worry.”

You had been roped into baking for Satoru because of his endless consumption for sweet things and today you’d agreed to make brownies.

Satoru sat on the island, chin resting into his hands whilst his elbows rested on it. Leaning forward in the high bar stool watching you work with some doe assed expression.

“You gonna put that chocolate stuff in again?”

“The Nutella?”

“Yeah! That stuff,”

“You’re gonna be fat.”

“Nah, besides I know a good way to burn it off,” he winked at you whilst giving a small smirk.

“Y’ever stop thinking with your dick?”

Toji strode by, chiming in his input after returning from the gym and opening the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

You could see he was still sweaty, his biceps looked fucking huge as he still carried his pump from the gym. The veins popping up his arms was enough to make you slow the stirring the spoon in the bowl until you stopped completely.

He was a tall glass of water and you were drinking him.

Well, clearly it was arms day at the gym. You gawked at the man who stood in all his glory, fuck was he always this huge? Had he gotten bigger? That wasn’t just the pump was it? Those tiddies of his… ugh. He’d let you motor boat him, right?

“See something you like, sweetheart?”

Your jaw closed so fast they heard your teeth clack together and you returned to stirring the spoon in the mix of brownies furiously.

“Don’t be jealous cause I can fill her more than you now old man, shootin’ blanks now aren’t you?”

You snorted a laugh and turned back around to the boys,

“More like baby powder,” you chimed in.

Satoru snickered a laugh behind you, Toji’s eyes darkened as they looked down at you whilst drinking, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped down the water.

“Fuck, fuck y/n, I’m gonna cum,” you mimicked him, probably sounding more desperate than he actually came off.

The golden part though, was you lifting your hand and you blew into it, flour clouding across the kitchen and hitting Toji’s chest. Little lumps falling down his body gathering at the band of his joggers.

Satoru was howling behind you his hands slapped down on the islands marble countertop, Toji looking less than amused, despite the glint in his eye giving away that it was funny his ego was simply not letting you get away with it.

The bottle hit the counter and he strode forwards. The amusement dropped from your face and jaw fell slack, Gojo watched with glinting eyes as he drank in the scene unfolding before him.

Uh oh, you were in trouble~!

Toji swiped the bowl from your hands, throwing it to the countertop behind you as he towered before you, one hand grabbing your neck and forcing you up into your tip toes.

“Oh? That funny shit left you pretty fast princess.”

He felt you gulp under his palm, the hand squeezed your neck with the pressure you liked, he felt the vibration of the moan that crawled up your throat. His green eyes glanced down to watch your body, your hands gripping the counter behind you and your thighs rubbed together.

“Tch, look at you-“ he kicked at your feet to separate them, pressing his huge thigh against your pussy and angled it up, he felt you buckle and it let him knew he pressed against your clit just right “-least you know to submit,” he husked out, lowering his mouth to brush against your lips before pulling away.

His hand around your throat left to gather your hair painfully, you winced as he gripped it in his large hand, pushing you down to your knees. His other hand pulling down his joggers enough to release his semi hard dick.

Even soft this guy was huge, thick and long, it silently stood at least 9 inches at least. He was physically daunting in every aspect, Toji was older and his physical form dominated the two of you overall. Everything about him screamed pure man.

Satoru wasn’t far behind at all, a god in his own league and he only bulked out more as he got older. But Toji had something Satoru didn’t have -that rough and ready thing that made you fucking melt. Gojo made you want to challenge him, even though you’d never win but Toji purely made you want to submit.

Toji was filth, mean, cold and reserved. He’d spit in your mouth, he’d eat you out after cumming in you, he’d verbally abuse you in only a way he could.

Gojo taunted and teased, his method was far from clean, but he took a more playful approach. Toji just took.

“Get it hard then-“ Toji pushed your face forwards towards his cock and you seen it flex giving away his excitement, “-I’m gonna paint that pretty face of yours with cum, see if your crap jokes are funny then.”

Your tongue pressed against the tip before licking a line up to the hilt, feeling it hardening under you. Toji looked over his shoulder to Gojo who had remained in his seat, blue eyes watching everything with his mouth formed into a straight line. Amusement had also left him it seems, favouring watching the scene unfold.

“Y’watching kid?” The smirk that spread over Toji’s mouth was nasty, “-maybe I’ll put a kid in her, really take her as mine.”

Toji’s thumb ran over your cheek as he groaned out at the feeling of your warm mouth taking in his head, tongue swirling around it.

“Have you look at her everyday knowing she’s got my kid in her -fuck- tits all swollen and stomach all round-“ his head tilted back as you took him down your throat, his dick now solid as he felt you gag around him “-it’ll drive your cocky ass mad.”

Gojo’s smirk twitched on his lips, refusing to show Toji’s taunting was actually striking a cord in the blue eyes. Instead he opted to tilting his head to lock eyes with you -doe eyed, all glassy looking pretty at him and a mouth stuffed full of thick cock, drool already spilling down your chin.

Satoru almost groaned at the sight of you like that, feeling his own dick hardening as Toji started to rock his hips to gain more friction down your throat, that would swell up as he pushed his cock further down it before retracting.

“Heh, you really hit a nerve with scarface~!”

Being left alone with you seemed like a rarity these days, even though that wasn’t the case it felt more valuable when he was alone with you.

You were laying on Toji, his thick legs either side of you both flat on the sofa. You were currently asleep on his chest, arms lazily wrapped around his, as you call it, slutty waist.

His arms were folded behind his head, the light from the massive tv danced in patterns a crossed the dark room as the film ran.

He knew you wouldn’t stay awake for it, now he was stuck like this on the sofa fighting his own sleep.

Your face nuzzled into his chest, a satisfying hum leaving you with a dreamy smile.

“Such good tiddies,” you slurred in your sleep, shuffling your body a bit against his.

He snorted a laugh, eyes returning back to watch you nuzzle your face between his pecs.

A smirk appeared on his lips, green eyes scanning over that pretty face looking so content buried in his.. tiddies.

“You’re an idiot,” he mumbled, lifting a hand to brush over your cheek, pushing the fallen strands of hair back.

“Insulting me even when I sleep?” You mumbled, pulling your body into a stretch before settling back on him.

Toji grunted and used the opportunity to shift himself under you.

You lifted your head and rested your chin on his chest, opening one eye to look at him sleepily.

“S’the time?”

“Midnight,”

You gasped dramatically and rose up,

“Old man! You shouldn’t be up so late, your poor back tomorrow, I’ll be buying you a summer frame.”

“If your fat ass wasn’t sleeping on me-“

“-I’m getting heavy for you? Truly, age is weakening you.”

Toji deadpanned at you before grabbing the back of your head and planting your face against his chest, smothering you. He felt you laughing, muffled by his muscle he smirked, keeping your face from lifting to see it.

You managed to twist your head to the side and dramatically inhaled.

“Death by tiddies won’t look glamorous on my death certificate.”

“Stop being so dramatic, you’re exhausting.” He released your head and let you lift yourself again a pouted now visible in your face and you moved to straddle him. He was shirtless under you because you were wearing his massive black t-shirt, some panties underneath and he wore his usual grey lounge joggers.

Your hands planted on his stomach, the muscle tensing under you and your fingers dented in to the six pack, gently moving them across the deep lines.

He rose an eyebrow as you wiggled your hips against his, he knew what you were looking for and it only made him smirk at you.

“Gotta work harder than that, princess.”

“Oh?”

Your hands gripped the bottom of the shirt, pulling it over your head, tits bouncing from the movement.

His hands folded behind his head and he shrugged.

“Meh,”

You pouted, frowning at him childishly, he could see the cogs turning in your head but he wasn’t expecting you to reach down, sliding your fingers down that smooth stomach before disappearing into your pathetic excuse of panties. Lacey and perfectly see through.

He watched your index finger press into your folds and run to your hole, gathering slick before moving back to your clit and rolling a circle over it. Hips twitching, an airy moan leaving you and he watched the pink dust over your cheeks, eyes half hooded as you dropped your gaze to his chest.

Strands of hair fell from your shoulders, framing your face as he watched your body reacting to your finger working against your clit. Your breathing picked up, your hips began moving in time with your finger.

Toji’s hands flexed behind his head, jaw tensing as he fought himself to reach out for you. Your other hand tugged at his sweats and he lifted his hips, it was a skill in itself on how you managed to shimmy them down just enough to release his dick with one hand whilst straddling him.

That finger on your clit never stopping as he watched it between your folds.

Your next move however did draw a grunt from him, pushing your panties aside you pressed your wet slit to his hardening length and dragged yourself along it. The airy, whiny moan that left you made his cock flex against your pussy.

“You dreamin’ about dick or somethin’? She’s fucking drooling, fuck.”

Green eyes fixed to watching the length of his dick gliding between your folds, quickly drenching it in slick he could see it glinting from the light of the tv.

Dick flexing again under you, completely acting on its own as you rolled yourself fucking stunningly against his cock, sandwiched between your cunt and his stomach.

Your soft pants in the room, the tv dulling out as he focused on you.

He snorted a laugh when you reached down, lifting yourself up to press the head of his cock against that tight hole.

“You ain’t gonna manage that sweetheart.”

Your hand braced against his stomach and despite his taunt you lowered yourself, his thick head pushing through that tight ring and he felt it actually fucking pop as it pushed through.

He exhaled heavily, hands balling into fists behind his head and he glared at you, your cocky stubbornness was always fun to watch but it always bugged him how you thought you’d manage without him.

Toji was a dom through and through, he’d let you have fun for his own amusement until he had enough.

“Not gonna beg for my help huh?”

“Fuck you, Toji.”

“Feel free, I hope you can fuck that dick,”

He watched you struggle, you sank down slowly and you made it half way before you huffed. Hand against his stomach curling into a fist.

“Fuck, you’re so thick.”

Surprise was shown from both you and Toji as a hand wrapped around your neck from behind, the other gripping your hair and pulling your head back. Lips crashing into yours in an upside down kiss.

Gojo hummed into the kiss, greedily shoving his tongue into your mouth and squeezing your throat lightly.

“You look like you need some help,” his lips moved against yours, shifting his leg he bent it and pushed between Toji’s and the back of the sofa to give himself even balance and position to be directly behind you, his other foot braced on the floor. Satoru’s hands slid down your body, one moved to the front to press against your clit, causing you to moan against his mouth. The other gripped your hip and started to push you down, finger on your clit rolling to distract you.

Blue eyes stared at green, Toji’s mouth formed into a sneer, eyes hardening on at Gojo interfering with his little lesson.

But fuck wasn’t it hot watching Satoru push you down to take him, feeling your pussy stretch to his girthy dick. Gojo’s mouth working against yours in a wet, messy kiss, your hands moving to grip his hair behind you and hold onto him.

The distraction was working, Toji felt you loosen up to swallow his cock to the hilt and he groaned when your warm walls hugged him. He could feel your slick running down his balls and ass, he could see Satoru’s finger running fast but light circles on your clit.

“You gonna ride him? You want my help right?” You nodded dumbly against his mouth, he chuckled against yours.

“You’re such a good girl,” his other hand left your clit so both were resting on your hips, Satoru guided you up Toji’s cock before slamming you back down. Both men heard the breath hitch in your throat, his previous gentle, caring actions and words led you into a false sense of security.

“C’mon then, ride him don’t let us down now,”

The lack of attention to your clit was short lived, Toji finally moved an arm so his thumb could press against the hardened bundle of nerves. He watched your body jolt, your hips rolling and the dips from Satoru’s fingers as he gripped your hips tighter.

“Suggest you hold onto something,” Your head finally tilted back to Toji, his deep voice filtering through but it’s his words that catch your attention.

The pink now intense across your cheeks and nose, eyes all glassy and looking at him like he was the centre of your universe.

Satoru pushed you forward so he could look down with a perfect view of Toji stretching and filling your pussy.

Your hands gripped Toji’s huge biceps, tensed under you as his hands now both gripped your thighs to hold you still.

Green eyes looked over your shoulder to meet Satoru’s.

“Hold her,”

“What?” You questioned, the trace of worry in your eyes at you looked at Toji like a doe in the headlights.

Satoru squeezed your hips, green eyes met yours and Toji smirked at you.

He withdrew before slamming back into you, the wet slap echoed around the room, his warning thrust made your breath hitch before he started to fucking rut into you.

Your nails dug into his muscle, Satoru’s grip stopping you from moving in any way and Toji’s hands on your thighs restricting you further.

“Wanna get fucked dumb huh?”

You nodded dumbly, Toji giving a hard, sharp thrust.

“Use your words,”

“Y-Yeah, fucked dumb-“ you slurred, voice jolting with each thrust and his dick kissing your cervix. You felt too full, Satoru keeping your hips pinned, Toji holding your legs left no room for him to fully slide from you. The constant short, hard fast thrusts of his dick punching into you, keeping you full quickly stirred the heat pooling in your stomach. He was pounding your g spot, hitting it within seconds of filling you.

Toji could feel you clenching around him, his breathing becoming laboured.

“Gonna cum already? Can feel that pussy suckin’ me in,”

“Hell, you’re taking his dick so well.” Satoru chimed in, confirming his words as blue eyes literally watched your pussy sucking Toji’s dick back in. Hearing that wet squelch of your cunt, the slapping of skin as Toji fucked you until you went crossed eyed, slurring words they could barely understand.

“Keep slurring n talkin’ all dumb like that princess, fuck this cunts so fucking good.” Toji growled out, he sounded feral, slamming harder into you and he watched as he took you to seen stars.

“That’s it, fuckin’ let go, give it up.”

“T-T I’m gonna -you’re gonna make me-“

The noise that left you as you came made Satoru groan behind you, you sunk forward into Toji, burying your face into his neck. In return he turned his head, one hand rising to run through your hair and grip it, twisting your head to press his lips to yours, mashing them together messily and desperately as he groaned into your mouth swallowing your noises.

Satoru pouted behind you, briefly taking his eyes from your cum forming around Toji’s cock as he used it to fuck you.

Toji was mumbling against your lips, something Satoru couldn’t hear from his place above the the loud skin slapping and cum drooling cunt being fucked just under him.

His green eyes focused on you your forehead against his, his hand in your hair keeping you close and in place, talking you through something and Satoru watched as you melted for him.

“Breath,”

“I can’t- it’s too much, you’re-“

“You can, you’re fuckin’ gonna take it. You wanted this so finish what you started so stop whinin’”

“Toji-“

“Breath. Gotta let me cum princess, this pretty pussy too fucking good to stop, you gonna help me cum yeah? Fill you up?”

You nodded dumbly.

His eyes scanned your face, Satoru’s hands left you and Toji moved in quickly, his arms hooking under yours, crossing over your shoulders, on hand remained in your hair then other cradled the back of your neck. Your hands ran through his hair. His feet planted against the sofa, keeping your forehead against his he locked eyes with you as he started to fuck upwards.

Satoru pulled at his boxers, releasing his cock as it slapped loudly against his stomach. A hand reaching out to collect the slick and cum from your inner thigh using it to rub his head, a hiss leaving him as he mixed his pre with it before fisting himself, blue eyes focused on your pussy being stretched and fucked before him.

He did notice the position Toji had put you in, ignoring the jealousy of how fucking intimate it looked.

You didn’t fuck just anyone like that. It was close, messy and focused. Fushiguro was watching you like you were feeding his soul, those green eyes glassy with something he’d never really seen in Toji. That usual hardness broke, despite his brutal fucking and harsh words it broke under that stupid fucking look in his eyes.

The thought hit Gojo at the wrong time.

This really was more than sex between you both? Why did he suddenly feel so out of place, like he shouldn’t have stepped into something like this?

“I’m cummin’ Toji -again- fuck that’s it, fuck-yeah, there! There!”

His huge arms tightened around you, biceps bulging as they hugged you so tight like he was trying to merge your souls together. His hand cradling the back of your neck tightened as he moaned out to you as you cum around his cock for a second time —this time though you brought him with you.

“Shit- m’cummin’-“

His hips pinned up to yours, he lifted from the sofa as his toes curling against it, his stomach spasmed as he coated your insides. His hips fell back against the sofa, a heavy exhale leaving him as you panted above him, light tremors starting through your body.

“Oi,” a cooler hand skimmed over your ass, up your spine and grabbing your hair to pull you back from Toji, Satoru met his eyes “-suggest you pull out, else she’s getting double stuffed.”

Satoru’s spare hand gripped your hip and encouraged you to lift from Toji, his cock slipping out with a wet, cum soaked slap to his stomach.

“Shit, what a sloppy girl you are~”

Gojo eyed your dripping, swollen hole clenching around nothing, quickly guiding the head of his dick to your entrance to stop anything coming out.

“I’ll just use his cum to fuck you huh? Thanks for warming her up-“ Gojo taunted, that cocky grin on his face as he slapped his hand across your ass watching it jiggle.

Toji seen you wince despite the moany breath that left you as Satoru bullied his cock to the hilt without any adjustment, filling you again. Your hands curled against Toji’s chest and he felt you tremble above him.

“Yeah use it-“ Toji folded his hands behind his head again, sitting back to watch. Green eyes drinking you in as you jolted forward with every wet slap and thrust, tits bouncing against his as Satoru started his round of fucking you, “-not like y’have a choice, you’ll never know her pussy without it, Gojo.”

Satoru Gojo being quiet was unheard of, if anything the man only got more hyper and put his deflection tactics up to god tier when he had something troubling him.

It was fast approaching February and a specific date in particular was causing the eccentric blue eyes some dread.

Suguru’s Birthday.

It was 1am to be exact and you’d rolled over to find the bed belonging to Satoru empty. Toji was away on a job for the next few weeks and that was your allowance to stay in Saturo’s domain.

Toji was first after all, he made that point almost weekly with some kind of remark or holding some kind of action to solidify it.

Such a weird dynamic.

You sighed as you lay flat on the large mattress looking up to the ceiling with a frown listening in the silence to see if you could guess what he was doing.

“I swear to god if he’s sleep walking again,” you mumbled, flinging the thick, warm sheets off you dramatically you swung your feet from the bed and set on mission to find the man.

Grabbing his white shirt thrown over a chair in his room you slipped it on.

Bare feet pattered through the house and you actually felt annoyed by the fact your feet were getting cold —it was the middle of winter after all.

With how silent the house was you thought Gojo had left the penthouse but a sad sigh left you when you seen a low, dull light glowing under the door to the room Suguru once occupied.

“Oh, Toru.” You whispered sadly in the empty hallway.

Your hand hovered over the door, chewing the inside of your cheek, with an inner battle as to whether you should get involved. Gojo shut down and away, he was terrible with processing emotions.

Where Toji was more than comfortable with his, being the black and white guy he was, he was surprisingly easier to deal with in that regard —you knew where you stood with him even if he wasn’t verbal with affection. If he wanted something he had it, if he didn’t he didn’t have it around him. The difficulty with Toji wasn’t his lack of ability to process, Toji was a difficult character in the ways Gojo was easy. Gojo had more morals, he wasn’t as selfish, he didn’t spit venom. Socially Toji was horrendous as well, he was rough around the edges. He was cold and distant. Gojo was more polished, a social butterfly with the charm of a prince.

If this were Toji you’d leave him alone until he came to you.

Emotions and Gojo though? Different kettle of fish.

Entirely.

He needed a hug but he didn’t want anyone close enough to allow himself to accept it.

His facade and deflection was humour, a goofball —being the kid he never could be growing up. But he dwelled in a domain of loneliness that was cured by Suguru and him alone. You always thought Gojo handled his death a little too well, avoiding the grief process.

The blue eyes knew what he wanted deep down but he was scared of having it —of losing it, again.

Plus his enormous god complex only aided his fussiness on things.

You were surprised he lasted the last 6 months in this dynamic, you were convinced he’d get bored and go back to multiple girls on the go to aid his insecurities.

But he hadn’t.

So you needed to help him.

The door opened quietly and Gojo was sat on the end of Suguru’s bed, his elbows resting on his knees, legs man spread as usual. Hands hanging loosely down and his head bowed, hair covering his eyes but through the strands you could see his eyes fixed on the floor.

He looked numb.

“Hey, Sato.”

He didn’t move when your hand ran across his bare back, “-just gonna sit next to you, s’alright yeah?”

He gave some short hum as a response but stayed fixed on his position. You sat behind him, legs sitting either side of him and wrapping your arms around his torso, resting your cheek against his huge back. It looked comical, spooning a 190cm man who was built like a god, your smaller frame behind him.

He didn’t move, even when you gave him a reassuring squeeze with your arms.

“So, I was watching this video today on these kikufuku’s with cream and edamame, they’re your favourite right? Looks easy enough to make.”

You pressed a few kisses to his back, continuing to blabber to him quietly, filling the silence you knew he was wallowing in, in this room once occupied by his best friend.

“Also, I seen this really awesome photo of that bamboo forest in Kyoto, there’s loads of snow there at the moment it looked so pretty. I haven’t been there since I was a kid! Never seen it covered in snow though, ah, I miss Kyoto it’s so pretty there.”

You shifted your legs, placing them over his thighs and he reacted, his hands moved to grip your feet and rub his thumbs over the soles in a lazy attempt of a massage.

“I ordered you a shirt too, it’s really funny. It’s got metalgreymon on it saying digimon is better than Pokémon.”

A smile twitched at his lips.

“Yeah, it is.”

“I liked that horse one, not that weird ugly ass one. The golden one.”

“Pegasusmon-“

“Yeahyeah! That one,”

Gojo chuckled at your excitement, his hands giving a firmer grip on your feet as he started to come around, crawling his way out of that numb void with a rope you’d thrown down to him.

“You’re not alone anymore, Toru, not if you don’t wanna be anyway.” You mumbled, pressing your forehead against his back.

Gojo looked over his shoulder at you, before turning in your embrace.

“Is that right?”

You gave him a goofy smile and nodded.

“Yup! But you gotta work on it as well, you gotta meet half way.”

He hummed again, eyes drifting to look at his shirt draped over you, one shoulder hanging off and the buttons undone enough to show cleavage. Nipples perking through the material, small goosebumps on your skin. Your long, smooth legs either side of him and he knew you had nothing on underneath.

His eyes drifted to your neckline, following up to your plump, pink lips.

He leaned forward causing you to lean back onto your elbows, his hand skimming up your legs, pushing the shirt up as he placed it against your hip.

He knew it was over for him the minute he finally met your eyes, those beautiful fucking eyes looking at him all glassy, yet filled with something that made his heart warm.

And for once he didn’t wanna run.

“I’m here, Satoru,”

His mouth pressed against yours the moment the words left you, the kiss was hot, messy and desperate. He moaned into you as his tongue filled your mouth, his spare hand moving to pull down his joggers clumsily, freeing his hard cock as it slapped against his stomach.

He felt needy, desperate to be in you. He pressed you into the mattress, both moaning with breathy pants as he pulled your hips towards him, dragging you down the bed. Your legs wrapping around his waist and arms around his neck, burying a hand into his hair and tugging at it.

He rolled his hips forward, running the length of his dick between your folds.

“You’re still wet from earlier huh?”

You nodded against his mouth, not letting him pull away when he went to speak. He chuckled against you, smirking against your mouth.

“Says you, look how fast you got hard.”

Satoru shrugged, his large hands holding the globes of your ass, pulling his hips back he angled the head of his dick at your entrance, pushing forward and moaning into your mouth as he entered you, feeling you stretching around his cock swallowing him to the hilt.

“Fuck, m’never gonna get over how good that feels sliding in first time.”

Your hips rolled up into his and he set a feral pace, he was sloppy, stuttering and kissed you just the same. His hands gripping and smoothing over your skin like he was trying to feel everything.

“You feel s’good Toru-hah- god you’re fucking me so well.”

“Yeah? Gonna let me fuck you like this forever? You know I can’t be without this pussy now right? She’s so sloppy for me, she’s drooling everywhere for my dick.”

You moaned and nodded desperately against him, your heart starting to race as you felt that heat pooling in your stomach, he was so close he was rubbing your clit at the same time. His hips rolling into you as he fucked his dick against your warm walls.

Slurring affection for him, your body rolling to meet his as he fucked you with an intimacy you’d never seen in him.

“You can’t leave me-“ your blurred vision started to focus, hos words bringing clarity. He face burying into your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist making you arch your back, shift your hips down at an angle so he could fuck up into you hitting that spot he was looking for.

“—you can’t leave me.” He repeated it again, slurring into your neck as his pace turned sloppy.

It was too much for him, he felt like he was going to burst, he’d never felt love but he was pretty sure this was fucking it. This unbearable warmth that spread through his chest made the feeling rushing through his dick more intense. He felt so close to cumming as well, struggling to hold on and not fill you up. He could smell you mixed in with Geto, whose scent still filled the room faintly.

But it was enough.

“M’gonna cum,” he slurred, his thrusts becoming frantic but uncoordinated as he bullied his dick into your pussy, clenching around him,

“Yeah? Gonna be a good boy for me Toru?”

“Y-Yeah m’a good boy,” he replied dumbly, chasing that high he was about to throw himself over for you —because of you.

“M’cummin’ fuck- fuck, fuck fuckkk.” He lifted his head and smashed his mouth against yours in a bruising kiss, he exhaled heavily, a whiny moan crawled at the back of his throat. Hips pinning to yours he spasmed against you as he blew his load into you until he felt it dripping past the plug of his dick.

He was breathless when he pulled from you, holding himself up now by his elbows either side of your head. His arms shaking lightly as he collected himself, his dick softening but warming in your cum filled pussy.

“Y’know-“ his voice was a little shaky and he refused to look at you, instead he was looking down at the small gap between you now, your stomach heaving and his cock still buried in you. “-I’ll settle for this, if it means I get you. But I wish it was with Suguru, cause I know he’d have taken care of you better than Fushiguro or me.”

“Gojo-“

He shook his head, you could see his jaw clenching but your eyes widened when you see the drops fall onto your stomach.

“I don’t deserve you, s’fact. But I’ll try if you don’t leave me.”

Your hands cupped his face, thumbs wiping under his eyes gently, pushing away whatever tears fell from those beautiful blue eyes.

“Can you look at me?”

You didn’t force his head up, but gave him the choice and he did, your breath hitched in your throat.

He never looked so fucking handsome. His hair was a bit messy, his eyes glistening with tears that only made them look more beautiful. His huge built towering over you as he left his cock buried in you.

Vulnerable.

This was Satoru Gojo.

And you weren’t sure if you’d finally just fallen in love with him at that exact moment.

“You deserve love, just as much as anyone else.”

Gojo slid down your body and down the bed, hands pressing to the backs of your thighs he pushed your knees up to your chest. He didn’t waste a beat, burying his head between your legs, sucking on your clit and rolling his tongue in a circle around it.

“Fuck- Satoru- holy shi-“ you hissed, hands flying into his hair and thighs trying to tighten around his head.

He could feel his cum down his own chin as it leaked from you, your hips rolled and he leaned onto you more to pin you.

He was ruthless on your clit, slurring against your pussy as he spoke.

“Gotta have you cummin’ said I gotta meet ya half way right? Fuck- tastes like us. This why Toji eat you after after he’s cum in you huh?”

Gojo > I’m taking her to Kyoto, she mentioned wanting to see the bamboo forest. So if you’re back and she’s not there, don’t worry your fat head ‘bout it . She’s only being whisked away for a romantic trip by her most handsome boyfriend <;3

Received 230am

Toji sneered as he read the message that was sent this morning, before moving into the ridiculous amount of messages you’d sent. He swore to god if you were spamming him with fucking sloth photos again, that only you thought were hilarious, he was going to block you.

Brat > Hey, so I might have accidentally knocked your gun off the side whilst house cleaning and it went off. There’s a hole in your cupboard and it went through one of your shirts. Miss your grumpy ass, can’t wait until your back, miss lil T too.

Received 1030am

Brat > well, it’s not lil is it.

Received 1031am

Brat > think I just made that all worse.

Received 1031am

Brat > okay, I lied. Satoru keeps bribing me with stupid shit else he’s gonna tell you. I didn’t knock the gun off, I was pretending to shoot at an enemy, I rolled across your bed, my feet missed the floor and pressed the trigger when I landed. I’m really sorry :( I didn’t know it was loaded. don’t be mad!

Received. 1305pm

Brat > Do you want a pic of my boobies? They’re a good distraction and you’ll magically forget all about it.

Received 1615pm

Brat > actually can I have a tiddies photo? I miss them.

Received. 1630pm

Brat > Satoru is useless at DIY, I bought a new door for your walk in cupboard, he put the handle on the inside and I can’t open it.

Received 1945pm

Toji sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, elbows resting on his knees, sat on the bed of his rented apartment for the mission.

As annoying as your nervous spamming of texts was it was never enough to actually block you, in fact he kinda enjoyed it. After all he might as well use his phone for something other than calls for jobs, and get his moneys worth for buying a more modern phone after you verbally slaughtered him for having a, in your words, a flip phone with buttons that cavemen used and would only be able to send dick pics on in the form of symbols and numbers.

Despite it all, he enjoyed your bullshit you were more tolerable than Gojo in that way, mainly because he could fuck the brat out of you when you went too far.

Not like he’d ever tell your ass that.

You two were fucking chaos.

T > shame he didn’t lock you in it.

Sent 2100pm

Brat > YOU'RE ALIVE! Thank god, I actually called a funeral director to book an arrangement for you tomorrow.

Received 2115pm

T > you mean you’re still gonna bother me when I’m dead?

Sent 2116pm

Brat > Duh, you have no friends who else is gonna arrange it? Megumi is only 18 and he’s got the emotional range of a goldfish thanks to your mean ass. He’d just set you alight in the nearest bonfire.

Received 2117pm

T > why am I with you.

Sent 2118pm

Brat > idk I ask the same thing, then I see that dreamy look when I’m sucking your dick and I have my answer <;3

Received 2119pm

T > that’s my happy face cause you’re not fucking talking. It’s a state of bliss.

Sent 2120pm

He smirked at his phone, watching the little typing bubble appear as you started your reply.

Yeah, you were his little state of bliss alright.

Gojo > enjoy another night alone, I’ll keep her happy and keep her company… with ma duuu’hickkkk. <;3

Sent 2130pm

Satoru could get fucked though, he wasn’t even sure why he tolerated him. Perhaps due to Toji’s line of work he knew you’d be protected by Satoru, after all the guy was far more powerful that him.

© pharix 2023 permission is not given to repost, translate or post anywhere else.

[cripplecharacters]

Hi, i’ve seen some disabled people say that you shouldnt be writing disabled POV characters if you are able bodied, as that would be speaking over the disabled experience. What are your thoughts on this? Im hearing some mixed opinions, I did have a POV character who is disabled (they are the protagonist) and Im not sure if i should scrap it

Hello lovely asker!

You can 100% write a disabled character and write the story from their POV. I believe a lot of the general descrepancies come from the the How in writing more so than the do or do not. Mentioning their disability, pain, symptoms, complications/adjusting from medical aids is good and shows the character and their disability. To steer away from the idea of disabled characters being written as a complete one view stance throughout the whole story is definitely what the goal is though. To bring more nuance and allow people to be seen as us with care rather than the perceived notion of "This person is disabled that must mean they're miserable" etc.

This isn't to say that a lot of disabled people don't in fact go through varying periods of time where we are unwell/generally feeling terrible from either various symptoms from our disabilities or treatment of others because of our disabilities. But I know a lot of us deal with this in real life and we constantly see this in media depictions that it's really nice when there are other depictions of disabled characters simply being and living. We are happy, we do go outside, and exist, and we have friends, and fall in love and are loved. We're not just the villains in media, angry—sad all the time, or that person who is treated as less than the rest of the cast.

Of course as you said, we all see things in a different way. If you're writing a disabled character I personally don't believe you should feel you have to scrap it and instead just make sure you're giving the character the same attention as you would your other characters.

I don't believe that we are only confined to write what we know from a first hand experience, but rather to venture out and to write more of what we don't know. It's the reason why it's good to back up and look at harmful cliches/tropes/things that are often gotten wrong and to look at what we write and think how we can improve and get better as writers. If we only wrote what we knew there would be so much less representation and complex and interesting characters in media as a whole.

~ Mod Virus 🌸

[banzaitaka]

Hi there! Can I request some headcanons for the Obey me brothers where their boyfriend is a fallen angel (He fell before they did)? Their bf has a similar personality to Grell from black butler and they love that their job is to make sure sinners safely make it to the devildom (That job part isn't that important I just thought it could be a fun detail). Or maybe a jjk Oneshot on Gojo just taking in this little boy who doesn't like him all that much but eventually warms up to him?

Thank you in advance if you decide to write either one, and if you don't it's fine.

Stay safe, remember to drink water and eat some food! Love your work <3

---

...Being taken in by Satoru...and...Megumi is there too...Dad Satoru and brother Megumi??? Pls- I WANT THIS TO HAPPEN Actually, I might make reader Megumi's brother so that I don't have to wreck my brain over a different bg story

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

I hope this is what you wanted & you enjoy reading! Tips are very welcome!

Satoru Gojo x male! reader

Warming

To say their relationship started off as rocky would be a massive understatement. No matter what Satoru did, the younger Fushiguro brother refused to acknowledge his existence, and in those rare moments he does, a glare way too strong for a boy that age was all he was willing to share. Satoru still saw those moments as an accomplishment. Sure, at least an indifferent expression would’ve been a bit nicer, but he couldn’t help but giggle every time the boy burned holes into him with his eyes.

The only time this kind of behaviour was slightly problematic was when there had to be some kind of communication between the two. Megumi certainly didn’t exactly have the energy to repeat everything the silver haired had said, so his little brother could reply to him instead of to the sorcerer. And since (Y/N) had to live under the same roof as Satoru, without either of his siblings, and won’t be able to move out anytime soon because of his age, exchanging a few words was going to be necessary. Not only to make things way easier, but also to better their relationship.

As much as Megumi would've liked to, and actually tried to, he couldn’t be the only person (Y/N) could depend on. Megumi was older, but still at a young age himself. And being his family doesn’t mean he has to bear the responsibility of raising him, and taking care of him like a parent did. That was exactly what Satoru was there for. But the distrust (Y/N) had towards him was really getting in the way.

No one blamed him for that though, it was absolutely understandable, some might even say expected, behaviour of the boy, considering what he had gone through.

But, again, in order to make life easier for all three of them, a change needed to happen. Not immediately, nothing massive. There was hope it would be enough for (Y/N) to come to Satoru when he needed help with little things, and when he was feeling unwell in one way or another. Whenever Megumi was absent, which was often, (Y/N) would get himself in danger quite regularly. For example, trying to climb onto the counter to reach dishes on the top shelves, trying to work sharp or other not child-friendly objects, never telling whenever he got a stomachache, felt dizzy, etc.

Despite Satoru catching on a lot of times, it was neither a 100% success rate, nor necessary work. It has become quite exhausting overtime. The sorcerer had determination to crack that thick wall between the two.

"(Y/NNNNNN)~", the sorcerer’s voice was as cheerful and obnoxious as ever as he peeked his head through the door; the door to the room (Y/N) got to call his own. The door he wished he could lock sometimes. Only sometimes, though. His feelings for Satoru weren’t as bad as to want to lock him out. The boy spared him a glance from out of the corner of his eyes as he sat on the ground with his new Lego set he got. From Satoru, to be quite exact. As soon as the man found out about his passion for building things (he had watched him build walls and castles out of everything he could stack, multiple times) he made sure to make use of that rather valuable information. Every once in a while he would bring home a small Lego packet or box for the boy to play with. And on a rarer occasion, he‘d buy a much larger set.

Some would say Satoru was spoiling (Y/N) with all those gifts, in actuality it was a peace offering, a gesture to show he could be trusted. “Like giving an animal food until it let‘s you pat it.“, maybe not exactly the best comparison, but those were his words as he explained his actions. Trust issues were not unfamiliar to the male, and this approach was but one out of multiple he was going to try to have (Y/N) open up wide enough.

“You like the new addition to your collection?“, he sat down next to the other, eyeing his current project; a castle. It certainly was bigger than the sorcerer expected it to be, but that was by no means a bad thing. Actually quite the opposite. “Yeah.“, a short and simple response, though it showcases the progress the two of them made. “I‘m glad you do! Because I picked this one up at the store today.“, the young adult grinned, dangling a tiny box in front of the boy by the hook attached to the top. A mini set containing a prince and a horse, it seemed by looking at the big picture.

Satoru could practically see (Y/N)‘s eyes sparkling, dropping the gift into his awaiting hands. He watched him fumble the box open and emptying it at his feet on the floor. The sight of how he pushed all the pieces together in an excitement induced hurry warmed his heart in a way. And once (Y/N) then took the prince figure and put it in one of the towers, sending him a mischievous smirk as he pulled at a piece, activating a mechanism that made the figure fall through the ground…accompanied by that sweet, hearty laugh…Satoru couldn’t help but squeal at the cute display, pulling the boy to his chest, unbothered by the small fists hitting him in his sides and the displeased whines he received in return, “Ahhhhhh! That was adorable! This was the first time I heard you laugh and not glare at me as if you wanted me dead!“

Surprisingly enough, the hitting soon died down, and the whining was replaced by soft breathing. Leaning against the older one, (Y/N) wondered; Was Satoru always this warm?

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 40

chapter 60:

1. y’all, marlene surviving is like the jaws theme only getting louder each second

2. dorlene is so fucking tragic omg

3. okay yall, kinda curious why sirius was immune to the green mist

4. bingly, lily, and mary trio >>>>>>>>

5. MARYLILY FOR THE FUCKING WIN

6. …where the fuck did regulus run off to?

7. “Sirius feels fucking sick. He should have never touched him. He was so selfish to ever, ever, ever touch him.” going feral over him

8. 😭😭😭 sirius took a chunk out of riddle’s arm so now his has immunity. i love him so dearly

9. regulus the little shit has abeeforth climb a tree

10. “He's pretty sure he was just focused on getting outside, and killing would take a little more time and effort, which is likely the only thing that saved those people's lives.” LMAO

11. i am unwell over the sirius and effie/flea reunion

12. “Because he loves Sirius like a brother, a mother, a father, a friend, an enemy, a reflection, and like no other. He can't stop that any more than Sirius can stop loving him as a brother, a son, a daughter, a friend, an enemy, a reflection, and like no one else.”

13. “Before Regulus ever found the sun in James, Sirius was the brightest light he knew; his guiding star. Regulus would have followed him anywhere, to the ends of the earth and beyond, and he still will even now.

Maybe especially now.”

please, i’m so tired 😞😞 i’m so goddamn tired

14. this was such a good chapter for my ships omg

chapter 61:

1. james thinking regulus is an angel when high off his ass on meds >>>>>>>>

2. stop! don’t take his skin!!! 😭😭😭

3. “James smiles at the angel and risks being smited…smote?” smitten, i believe. (you’re being silly)

4. me blubbering: remudsd and jambes

5. hospital bed cuddles >>>>>>>>>>>>>> s tier

6. “"I love you, James. I loved you from the start, I love you now, and I'll love you for as long as love is something that exists—and, if it ever stops existing, I'll reinvent it just for you."” i- will i ever find a love like this?

7. im kinda loving this characterization of remus in which he feels no remorse for the times he’s murdered

8. “But it was muzzled like a dog and left to snarl and foam at the mouth, defiance building until he never misses a chance to bite. But they silenced it, and he has found his voice, and now, now they hear him scream.”

9. “i’m sat”

10. god, they can’t even break up without being so in love. they end up on a bed instead :/

11. “"I'll do it until we're old and grey," Remus murmurs.

"If we get there," Sirius whispers.

Remus strokes his hair. "We'll get there."”

they’re my model for how to love

[remedyturtles]

YOUUUUUUUU

Yes, you. I adore you so much you have no idea. FUCK.

I love your latest oneshot about the boys "stare directly at the sun" and I'm going insane. I AM UNWELL. I could write a whole ass essay about how much I love it, how you've written the characters felt so authentic and how you've emotionally broke me in the worst places possible, I've read ROTTMNT fics before, but this one stood out being an alternate setting with character being HUMAN and living normal mundane lives. How much their lives differ from what we know in the OG series yet we can spot things that stayed the same.

I love how instead of being crime fighting Ninja's, while I know that's pretty badass, But these kinds of fics makes the characters feel real for me, there's not much human setting fics of the boys which I'm sad about, (kinda wish there's more) I could literally write my own fic about em but sadly I'm not built like ao3 authors with the time and energy to do so :(( which your fic touched me on a personal level, they are going through school problems, SPLINTER HERE BEING A GOOD PRESENT FATHER GAAAHHH and then having more access in mundane things it holds a special place in my heart omfg...🫶✨

And the fact Leo wants to be a doctor my heart goes out to him 😭😭😭 I'd like to ask what do the other brothers dream to become in the future? What careers they wanna do? I have a few guesses, but I truly wanna know it in your inverse human au you've cooked up with and totally cool if you ignore this part– I don't wanna take more of your time— buuuut I really wanna know more about your human au about the boys;

Are other canon characters still there?

How drastically did you change the world to make it more humanely normal for them?

Do Yokais still exist?

Will this just be a oneshot one time thing or can we expect more of the human verse of your world?

Oahskwbw anyways, thank you so much for existing and writing your beloved fics, I love your works sm you're literally one of my favorite ao3 authors, it's making my heart explode!! Pls do take care of yourself also!!!! <33

STOP you are far to kind to me omg

i am incredibly influenced by the fact that i've read 'problem child' by taizi approximately a MILLION times. also shoutout to 'teenage mutant ninja what now' by tangledinink and the related 'scotch gambit' by like_theletter. OH and of course 'running on low (all the way home) by gibbouslunation. if you've never read human au's before and liked mine, DEFINITELY check out these!!!

writing 'stare directly at the sun' was literally because i had this idea of leo not wanting to be a doctor anymore being like a HUGE red flag and essentially built a story around that hahahaha.

i have zero intent of writing more in this au (i wrote it in 11 days like a fever dream and now i am turning my attention back to firefight haha) but i will answer your questions regardless:

no idea if there's other canon characters. it is genuinely just the real world lol, so no yokai.

raph is currently in university for education to become a teacher, undecided for what age but probably younger. mikey has changed his big ambition at least once a year, anything from chef to professional gymnast to zookeeper. donnie is going to take engineering (to start, he wants to milk the education system for all it's worth so he may get multiple degrees) and he would be accepted at any school he applies to so he will choose whichever one accepts leo haha

cheers mate thank u for the kind words ;__;

[halfagone]

You know, that recent post with more thoughts on bio mom!Selina has given me an idea. Because Bruce and Selina, in one version of canon, have a daughter. Helena. Huntress. Consider: Another twins au, but with Danny and Helena instead

You have activated my DC knowledge, and I hope you know that >:3

Helena's character is a little more complicated and I am here to ramble about that before I get to the meat of this ask. There is a universe where Helena grew up to become Batwoman, not Huntress. And that is because she was raised by her parents and didn't get separated. But since you specifically mentioned Huntress, I'll try to stick with that one.

For anyone that doesn't know this part of DC comics that well, something you should know is that there are two Huntresses. Helena Bertinelli and Helena "Bertinelli", otherwise known as Helena Wayne. In the New Earth and Prime Earth comic series, their version of Huntress is the real Helena Bertinelli, whose family was a part of the mafioso and she was dubbed a "mafia princess".

But then, there's Earth 2, where Helena Wayne was actually Robin before being sent to another universe alongside Kara (more specifically, Power Girl) and ended up taking the alias of Helena Bertinelli, who had existed in this world but had been missing/presumed dead.

So where does that leave us? [Added a Keep Reading because this got long lol]

Since you specifically addressed Helena as Huntress, I'm going to be using this comic run:

You could probably write a story about how Danny finally finds Helena again and the two reunite, thus revealing that Helena had lied to almost everyone and she was indeed Helena Wayne once upon a time. And this of course would lead to revelations and heart-to-heart discussions about Bruce and Selina's relationship and what kind of parents they were. I like to imagine that when Danny reunited with his family for whatever reason that separated them, Danny becomes Robin as well. So there are two Robins stalking the streets and scaring the living daylights out of criminals.

However... if you wanted to make things a little more interesting, we could take this version of the comic and take it for a little spin.

In the original canon, Helena has already operated as Huntress for years before Damian figured out the deception. She's already an adult, and largely on her own.

But in this case, we can make Helena freshly from the other universe. Lost and unsure and all on her own. Enter Batfamily. The moment they get her in their sights they realize that oh, she's Bruce's kid from another world/timeline/whatever their first assumption is. And then, when they get her to open up, she reveals that she has a twin. Bruce is Unwell at the information and Helena is inconsolable because they only just got him back, and now they've lost her. Her parents are never going to let her out of the house again after this!!

Meanwhile, Danny is losing his mind and their parents are trying to do everything to get her back and it's a whole mess.

If you want to make things a little more interesting, you could make Danny and Helena the only Wayne children, so that when she goes to the other universe she's super taken aback by how many siblings she could've had and "isn't that our neighbor Tim? Tim Drake? Danny's bestest friend ever? What are you doing in that egghead suit, Danny would be appalled to see you dressed like that."

Something I will have to say is that we probably don't get a lot of AUs like this because the rest of the Batfamily would probably be adults and there's a rather large age gap between Damian (as the youngest) and Helena + Danny, in this case. Unless you have them from another world, of course.

Think... Batman Beyond, with Terry McGinnis. It's an amazing series, but pretty much all of the main characters that the fandom typically writes about are retired. There is no Nightwing or Red Hood or Red Robin. Damian is alive but he's back with the League of Assassins. Let's not talk about how Tim and Barbara are married.

I think this AU could be really fun, and I'd be interested in trying it out some day. But it is one of the trickier instances. But no less exciting because of it. ;3

[theresstillgrowinghere]

Oh I am fucking angry.

Dr. Edwin Leap (yes, I will call you out by name because you published your bullshit online for the whole world to see), thank you for almost comedically illustrating why so many patients are afraid of doctors.

You do not ever get to think of your patients as other. They are your same flesh and blood; I don’t care how much you want to think of yourself as separate from those of us unwell. (I can tell how much disdain you hold for us just from this short article. We are failures, not good enough, not strong and morally pure like you are, hm?)

Healthcare can never, never, allow itself to other its patients. And yet, you publish an entire article calling sick people Homo infirmus and Homo fragilis? Your tone doesn’t come across very humorous, but even if it’s just supposed to be a silly little joke, explain to me why the fuck you think that would be okay.

Why the fuck would it be okay to say another person is not only not your same species but instead defined as other primarily by their illness?

And designated as such by you, a medical professional with direct influence on the lives and wellbeings of the very people you are dehumanizing?

Do you not see how terrifying that is? Do you not see why people would be afraid of you after just having read this piece?

And then you go on, boiling my blood:

“Homo fragilis, at least as a diagnostic category, begins earlier and earlier in life and often results not only in a tribe of people dependent on medications but also, ‘relying on the kindness of strangers.’ No, maybe better put, ‘demanding the kindness of strangers.’ These individuals require food, shelter, medication, affirmation, and often money from others because they cannot function in the wild. I’m not being mean; the causes are legion, from poor family structure to mental health challenges to social media.”

I cannot believe how many infuriating things you’ve said just in this paragraph alone, but I want to focus on the part that immediately washed me with deep shame. Unrightfully so. You have no right to make me feel ashamed, and yet, when you said “demanding” better captures my state of existence, it turned my stomach inside out.

Yes, I am disabled. I absolutely rely very heavily on other people. Yes, I require food, shelter, medication, affirmation, money. And so do you, christ. You aren’t better than us just because we need support from our communities. Getting support from those around us isn’t a crime, isn’t a wrongdoing, isn’t a moral failure.

You know what it is? Human.

Whether or not Margaret Mead actually said that a healed femur in recovered ancient remains was the earliest sign of civilization (we’re going to save the charged nature of this term for another time and for now just use it as a placeholder for consistent, steady, lasting community), there is a reason why people latch onto this story. There is a reason why it warms people’s hearts:

So many of us want to care* for people. So many of us want to have people care for us. So many people feel closer to others, to ourselves, to our own humanity when offering others care.

(*I am including all the vastly different ways we can show others care, love, support, respect, protection, encouragement, etc.)

And perhaps the most upsetting part is how close you are to understanding the problem while getting the most key pieces so, so wrong. You’re right, our current healthcare system cannot handle the amount of support patients need right now. But please, I beg you, could you consider for just one second that it is not the fault of the patients? Could you please not strip me of my humanity just because I need help to survive?

Fix the system. You’re right, there is a massive problem. But it’s not us. Next time you’re considering your “long-dormant zoology degree,” think twice and reflect a bit before publishing bullshit like this. Think about what it means to take care of those around you. Think about your own humanity.

[letteredlettered]

arranged20??

This answer is also for @nanavn, who asked about the same thing!

This is a fic I really, really hope to finish writing. I wrote 44,293 already. I love it and I'm proud of it. But it's an MDZS/CQL fic, and my head is living in TGCF right now, and I also want to make time for original fic, so who knows when I will get to it?

This fic is wangxian. That's the only pairing, though I guess background LXC/NMJ.

In ancient China, marriage between men was a thing, the way it was in many ancient cultures, but I didn't really do a lot of research on that for the fic. One central premise of the fic, though, is that marriage between men is not unheard of and can be used for political alliances. Homophobia still exists in this world, because I actually think it's rather important to some of the premises of this book.

The fic is an AU after WWX dies at the burial mounds. Another basic premise is that JGS begins to realize JGY is a threat, so he watches closely and doesn't die in an orgy. In order to keep JGY in check, JGS recognizes Mo Xuanyu as Jin Xuanyu. Meanwhile, JGS is more careful about consolidation of power--for instance, JGY has not dared sabotage NMJ. Instead, the Jin Sect has slowly expanded such that the other sects can feel the heat, and everyone is waiting for things to boil over.

This is an arranged marriage fic. At the start of the fic, Jin Sect finally makes a move that will undermine and discredit the Lan Sect. Lan Xichen knows what JGS is looking for--to either chip away at Lan influence or gain Lan fealty. LXC feels that the only way to secure their position is to marry into the Jin Sect. LWJ refuses to let his brother throw himself away on a loveless marriage, because the man LXC loves is alive and also threatened (even without his qi being sabotaged, NMJ's qi is still unstable). Believing that WWX won't return, LWJ demands that he go through with the marriage himself, and because LWJ is super stubborn and LXC isn't great at standing up to him, LXC acquiesces.

The marriage is of course to Jin Xuanyu. LWJ doesn't really know Jin Xuanyu except for having met a few times in passing. On the day of their wedding, Jin Xuanyu excuses himself from the wedding feast, claiming to be ill.

Here is an excerpt, taking place when LWJ checks on Jin Xuanyu after the wedding banquet!

Lan Wangji nodded and entered the residence, where a strange odor assaulted his senses and Jin Xuanyu stood in the middle of the room, holding a thick sheaf of papers and a shocked expression. “Lan Zhan!” he exclaimed.

Lan Wangji looked at Jin Xuanyu’s arm, which was now behind Jin Xuanyu’s back, hiding the sheaf of papers. Deciding to prioritize, Lan Wangji didn’t ask about it. Jin Xuanyu was extremely pale. “Are you all right?”

“Me?” Jin Xuanyu said blankly. “Oh, I’m quite . . . oh, terrible.” He began to cough. “I’m terrible, Hanguang-jun.”

“I brought you food,” Lan Wangji said, moving farther into the room. The scent in the air was familiar, but Lan Wangji could not place it.

Jin Xuanyu had not moved. “Hanguang-jun,” he said. Then he said it again. “Hanguang-jun.”

Lan Wangji put the tray on the table and stood.

“I . . .” Jin Xuanyu seemed quite at a loss. Then he said, in a quiet voice, “Are we really married?”

Lan Wangji stared, at a loss as well.

“It’s just . . .” Jin Xuanyu made a helpless gesture with his hand.

Lan Wangji, speaking very carefully, said, “You were at the ceremony.”

Jin Xuanyu grimaced. “Right . . .” He made another face. “It’s just so . . .”

Jin Xuanyu stood there for so long, unspeaking, that Lan Wangji finally stepped toward him.

“Never mind, Hanguang-jun!” Speeding over to the table, keeping the papers behind his back, Jin Xuanyu looked down at the tray. “Is it from the wedding banquet?” he said quickly. “Is it something good?”

Lan Wangji eyed him warily, remembering the Jin plots he had considered earlier. “Plain soup.”

Jin Xuanyu’s face fell. “Really?”

“You were unwell,” Lan Wangji reminded him.

“Oh. Right.” Jin Xuanyu coughed a few times.

In spite of his pallor, the way Jin Xuanyu was coughing did not appear genuine, and he seemed otherwise well. Even if he was sick, his current condition did not seem poor enough to warrant desertion of his own wedding banquet, and no illness Lan Wangji could imagine would cause a person to post a guard outside the door.

Keeping the papers out of sight behind him, Jin Xuanyu leaned down, uncovering the bowl on the tray and taking a whiff. “Unf. It really is plain. There at least should be good food, considering what I’ve been through.”

Jin Xuanyu did not seem inclined to share what he had ‘been through,’ but the papers were obviously connected. “Shall I fetch something else?” Lan Wangji asked, keeping his tone polite.

Wincing, Jin Xuanyu straightened, then forced an uncomfortable little laugh. “No, Hanguang-jun, that’s . . . it’s fine.”

Unable to wait any longer for a reasonable explanation, Lan Wangji finally asked, “What are the papers?”

“Hm?”

Lan Wangji did not repeat himself. He thought that Jin Xuanyu had heard him very well.

“Oh.” Jin Xuanyu chuckled. “I suppose you mean these,” he said, whipping out the sheaf of paper from behind his back. “Well, let me tell you,” Jin Xuanyu went on, glancing at the papers himself. “These papers are . . . they’re . . . a diary,” he said suddenly. “Very private, Hanguang-jun. I’m going to burn them.”

The paper visible to Lan Wangji was covered in writing too small to read. Lan Wangji looked back to Jin Xuanyu. “I would not read your private writings.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t, Hanguang-jun,” Jin Xuanyu said, setting the sheaf of papers on the floor, then sitting down on it, before the soup. “You’ve always been so honorable. One can never be too careful, though. Prying eyes, you know.” Picking up the bowl, Jin Xuanyu began to eat, as though nothing in his behavior could be deemed at all suspicious or unusual.

Lan Wangji looked down at him, trying to decide what to do. That Jin Xuanyu was hiding things from him was obvious, and yet, Lan Wangji had rarely witnessed a guilty person seem so unconcerned with being caught. If Jin Xuanyu had in fact planned with other Jin Sect members to annihilate the Lan Clan from within, or if some other nefarious scheme were in play, surely a more subtle subterfuge would have been employed.

No, this behavior seemed a result of Jin Xuanyu’s own eccentricities, of which Lan Wangji was rapidly becoming aware that there were many. When Jin Xuanyu had first joined the Jin Clan at Golden Carp Tower, Lan Wangji had heard that the man was odd, but almost all the rumors had seemed to center around Jin Xuanyu’s sexual preferences, as far as Lan Wangji had been able to tell.

Perhaps he should have conducted more research into the nature of Jin Xuanyu’s character, not in the least because Jin Xuanyu was now slurping his soup in a most aggravating manner. He had handled himself with adequate decorum at the tea ceremony that afternoon. Perhaps within the privacy of the Jingshi, with his new husband, Jin Xuanyu felt it permissible to forgo etiquette.

“If you would like a private place for the papers,” Lan Wangji said, “I can provide a case and show you how to construct a locking talisman.”

“Ah, are we still talking about that?” Jin Xuanyu said, not looking up at him. “I told you, I’m burning them.”

Lan Wangji watched his husband eat for another moment or two. He really should sit with him, but to do so felt like a concession that Jin Xuanyu’s meal was normal and nothing at all strange was happening, when the fact was that Jin Xuanyu had been doing something in this room, something with the papers that he did not want Lan Wangji to know about. Perhaps it really was as innocent as updating his supposed ‘diary,’ but Lan Wangji doubted this.

The smell alone was cause for concern. When Lan Wangji focused on it, memories of the Sunshot Campaign surfaced—battlefields. Death. Corpses. But the room didn’t smell like death or rotting flesh. The odor was faintly metallic.

Lan Wangji spotted the smudge on the floor at the same time as he identified the scent.

Blood.

Walking a few steps, Lan Wangji bent down to inspect the floorboards he had only recently repaired. The stain was fresh, smudged as though hastily wiped away. The rest of the floor was clean, but such a small amount of blood would never cause the scent to be so noticeable. Straightening, Lan Wangji looked back at Jin Xuanyu, who was looking back at him, eyes wide as he lowered the bowl from his mouth.

“Were you cut?” Lan Wangji asked.

“No?” Jin Xuanyu did not sound certain about this.

“There is blood.”

“Ah, how strange.” Jin Xuanyu remained where he was.

“I smell it.”

“Ah, Hanguang-jun, so impressive, able to scent blood. You know, I would not share this fact,” Jin Xuanyu said brightly, wagging a finger at him. “They say that certain monsters are able to scent blood; it’s a nefarious talent.”

“Jin Xuanyu.”

“What? Oh. Yes?”

Lan Wangji looked at the floor, then back up at Jin Xuanyu. He was still pale, Lan Wangji saw. Blood loss.

“Well, what makes you think it’s mine, Hanguang-jun?” Jin Xuanyu asked, sounding petulant. “It could be anyone’s blood! You should keep your place cleaner. And more secure! Anyone could just come in here and bleed.”

Lan Wangji walked back to the table, took Jin Xuanyu by the arm, then pulled up. Jin Xuanyu squawked a loud protest, but Lan Wangji was stronger, forcing Jin Xuanyu from where he sat to reveal the papers that had been under him. Lan Wangji reached for them, and they abruptly caught fire.

Whirling, Lan Wangji turned back to look at Jin Xuanyu, who was lowering his hand, having just made a hand seal for fire—not a very effective one, Lan Wangji saw, turning back to the flames. The fire was feeble, already petering out. Lan Wangji waved his hand, expending very little spiritual power to extinguish it, but Jin Xuanyu was already rushing back, gathering the burnt papers to his chest. “I told you!” he exclaimed. “They’re my diary! You wouldn’t read another man’s diary, would you, Hanguang-jun? I thought you were honorable!”

“Tell me,” said Lan Wangji, through gritted teeth, “what is going on.”

“I’m . . .” Jin Xuanyu’s shoulders slumped. “Well, if you must know . . .”

Lan Wangji, waiting, abruptly realized he was furious. He had not had the time to process everything that had happened so far, all the ways that Jin Xuanyu was lying to him, setting actual fires in the Jingshi, cutting himself, hiding it—and they were married. Lan Wangji had married this man this morning, and Lan Wangji could not fully comprehend it. He could not recall feeling so blindly angry since he’d been a teenager; the mixture of hurt and absolute confusion felt exactly the same.

It felt exactly the same, and Lan Wangji suddenly, powerfully wished that Wei Ying was here, if only for Wei Ying to hurt him and confuse him that way again. At least that was a pain that Lan Wangji understood, and it had come from someone he loved. That this stranger could hold such power over Lan Wangji was only a result of the fact that they were married, and Lan Wangji had had his hopes, and now they were meant to live together, side by side, when Jin Xuanyu obviously had so little respect for him. It felt intolerable. It felt unfair.

Lan Wangji took a deep breath, then let it go.

“I was trying to cast a spell,” said Jin Xuanyu.

“With blood,” said Lan Wangji.

“Well, you see . . . it wasn’t exactly a polite spell.”

Lan Wangji put out his hand.

Jin Xuanyu looked down at it.

“The papers,” said Lan Wangji.

“No!” Jin Xuanyu clutched them closer. “These are my . . . notes. On how to do the spell, but it didn’t work. I’m . . . such a poor cultivator, you see.” Jin Xuanyu lit up suddenly. “That’s why I was casting the spell! It’s this body. It’s weak! And . . . small. The—my golden core is just . . . nothing to speak of. I could also be far better looking, don’t you agree?”

Lan Wangji did not know what he was talking about.

[compassionatereminders]

I'm 26 and I left my job were co-workers and boss were pretty much bullies. I worked split shifts (example from 7 am - 11 am then from 2 pm - 6 pm). Other times I mostly worked from 1 pm till 9 pm. I almost never got morning shifts so I could work from 6 am till 2 pm. I worked 6 days per week. I don't have a drivers license or a car so waiting for the bus took me a lot of time as well. If I finished at 11 am I was home at noon, I cooked something, cleaned up, took a shower and went to work again so I'd be there at 2 pm.

Mentally I was so unwell and I was exhausted since. And I feel like I deserve better than being exhausted, sad and depressed. I put all my energy to work I had none for me. I stopped seeing friends, I had zero energy.

And I feel like it's bizarre how people think you should be GRATEFUL to have work, no matter what kind, no matter if you are miserable. Am I crazy to think it's better to be jobless than being miserable 24/7?

1 free day I had off I still had zero energy. Mostly I was sleeping, napping or watching some kind of tv show and I was stressed all day like a kid that tomorrow I have to go to work again. You know like that kid that no one likes at school and the kid keep thinking the whole weekend "oh no it's going to be Monday soon".

People think I should be ashamed I left work, because they think I'm a lazy bum now (I live with my parents still we have a house but I have savings and I don't live there for free) but I don't feel ashamed. My parents kinda support me with my decision because they see how stressed I was.

But I feel society in general think you should be grateful that work is depressing/stressing/killing you.

I just wanted to say this because you reblogged how everyone deserve to eat & have roof over their head. Because I agree with that post and I just wanted to add how toxic our world is.

I'm sick when I see people preaching how people should be grateful for minimum wage.

Politicians steal millions, destroying their own people with bad decisions etc. but people only focus on other people because they don't want to be miserable as them. And instead of wanting better work hours/better work environment they would rather bad talk about others.

I don't think you have to grateful to work a stressful and unfulfilling job in a toxic environment. And I think people who are unsatisfied with their jobs have the right to talk about that without being judged and shamed. That being said, in a society where most of the stuff you need to maintain your existence is tied to your ability to work, it IS in fact a privilege to be able to work OR to be able to safely be unemployed. And this is also important to acknowledge in discussions about toxic work culture

[saints-who-never-existed]

Rereading The Terror

Two short chapters combined for you today, each more gut-wrenching than the last!

Chapter Fifty-Five: Goodsir

Goodsir's first few days in the Mutineer Camp have not been pleasant, needless to say. He begins describing Hickey as The Devil and the other men as an "Infernal Legion" celebrating with a "Feast of Human Flesh" after the confrontation with Crozier.

There are a few familiar and unexpected faces within that 'infernal legion' including Billy Orren, John Morfin, and Billy Gibson, all very much still living so far. Interestingly, several of the Mutineers are still actively resisting the descent into cannibalism - Morfin and Hodgson most notably - but Goodsir suspects they won't be able to hold out much longer - "the smell of Roasting Human Flesh is Horribly Enticing".

Just like the main party, the Mutineers also appear to have found leads in the ice. 17 men pile into a boat only meant for 8 and begin to paddle northward but it's clear quickly that they cannot continue to do so for long, and it's not because of the leads themselves: "I Heard Hickey and Aylmore whispering after we landed to pitch Tents this Evening - they made Little Effort to lower their Voices. Someone will have to go. ...now that they do not need Man-haulers, which Men will be Sacrificed to the Food stores so that the boat can be Lightened for tomorrow's Sailing?"

-

Chapter Fifty-Six: Jopson

Oh gang... I'm afraid this is it...!

Jopson doesn't understand. He doesn't fully understand what's happening to his body anymore - why his teeth and hair are falling out and he's bleeding from every orifice. And he doesn't understand why he's being left behind on this, his literal birthday: "...but he was not an old man. He was thirty-one years old today and they were leaving him behind to die on his birthday." :(((

He has just enough wherewithal to smell the roasting of the seal meat Des Voeux's men brought back to camp, and to note the stream of men visiting his tent, unwilling to show their faces but leaving behind a pile of mouldy ships biscuits for him "like so many white rocks in preparation for his burial."

Jopson can only really protest in his own head - against the men and their actions and, interestingly, against Crozier... "Hadn't he stayed by Captain Crozier's side a hundred times during the captain's illnesses and moody low points and outright bouts of drunkenness? Hadn't he quietly, uncomplainingly, like the good steward he was, hauled pails of vomit from the captain's cabin in the middle of the night and wiped the Irish drunkard's arse when he shat himself in his fever delirium? Perhaps that's why the bastard is leaving me to die." Good Christ if that thought doesn't actually fucking destroy me! It's not even the idea of doing all that for someone and it somehow not being good enough, it's almost as if it was too good instead. Like something about reaching that level of intimacy being too unbearable in some way and somehow being the thing that dooms him? Ooh lordy I'm unwell... :(((

Soon enough, Jopson's birthday becomes more surreal and yet more literal as his crawling from the tent is described almost like labour, like an actual birth - "He had grown used to the canvas-filtered dim light and stuffy air of his tent-womb that this openness and glare made his lungs labour and filled his squinted-shut eyes with tears."

Crawling over food - "brought to him as if he were some damned pagan idol or sacrificial offering to the gods" - Jopson exits the tent which all too quickly fades into the fog behind him so he can't go back, and tries to shout after the departing men.

He's so weak but so utterly utterly desperate that he even tries to use his fucking chin to drag himself along the ground when his arms fail him. But of course it's not enough. Just like that, the departing men are gone. "It was as if they had never existed."

[alicewhimzy]

My Dad and I like to talk about a lot of stuff. One of the things he's been fascinated by is media transmutability and using existing media to make new things. One example he mentioned is "This Spartan Life", a talk show done in the first person shooter Halo 2. This reminded me of the many many animations that many many creators have made over the years out of a game I've liked for a while and unfortunately have only recently been able to start playing; Team Fortress 2. One film in particular stuck out in my mind. I brought it up, we discussed it and after a while he agreed to watch it with me. That was a week or so ago.

🪚🩺🩸

Last night I watched Emesis Blue with my Dad. He was a bit surprised at how little dialogue there was but overall we both really liked it. The stylized design of the nine mercs and the other models works in this film's favor, giving the film a sense of identity that a more conventional live action film wouldn't have. It reminded my dad of the comic Sin City. It is a story with quite a lot of violence, which I think is to be expected considering what it's based on, but even then, it's not gratuitous, not much you wouldn't see in the game proper. It's in support of the plot, and even if there's not as much dialogue as other films, the visual storytelling makes up for it. Also the references to other horror works such as the shining are a nice touch.

One element I like in particular is the fact that the film misleads us so well. At first it seems to be a standard noir outing, especially regarding the storyline of Jacques and Columbo. There's a short fight and a mcguffin in a briefcase is introduced. But once we reach Conagher Slaughterhouse, there's an uncanny eerieness that quickly comes over the audience and never really leaves. We have no way of knowing how much of what we see is real or not, and neither do the characters involved, and nowhere is this doubt in reality shown more prevalently and brilliantly than in Dr. Fritz Ludwig.

Of all the stories told about the tf2 Medic I think this is the greatest I've ever seen. In game, Medic is famous, or infamous, depending on perspective, for being not quite all there in the sanity department. The kind of person who will brag about stealing someone's skeleton. The kind of person who can and has performed soul-transplantation multiple times. The kind of person who will casually mention implanting someone with a fully functioning baboon uterus pregnant with triplets, only a slight exaggeration. He's crazy, he knows it and we love him for it. In Emesis Blue however, this component of the Medic's character, the concept of being mentally unwell, is shown with care and nuance. He is never referred to by his class, but instead has the full name, Dr. Fritz Ludwig. This well-meaning but unstable man is put on a downward track from the moment we first see him, by forces he can neither understand nor control. He blames himself for Jeremy's kidnapping and later death, and wants to find a way to save or at least avenge him or redeem himself. But once he does so and the brothers are dead, his hope is only to survive. Every time he must fight for his life it deeply affects him as he is faced with unbelievable hallucinations. Is it some twisted effect the malfunctioning respawn machine is having on the world around it, or is it his own sanity slowly abandoning him. We see other characters hallucinating, but him? He has no idea. Fritz is constantly fighting a losing war with his own troubled mind, and the situation he's stuck in and trying so hard to get out of is only making it worse, as he gets closer and closer to what the enigmatic undertaker in black has already become. An unstoppable undying force of violence. Not even the others are safe from this, as Jeremy, Stalingrad, Mundy and Jacques clearly show.

Oddly enough however, the film ends on a somewhat bittersweet, if not uplifting note. The two timing schemer Archibald is dead, so is that asshole Jacques, and with no one else to run the company and its involvement in the gravel war coming to light, it's clear that it's going to crash and burn. Good riddance. Mr. Doe survives and makes it out of the funeral alive, secure in the knowledge that many, if not all crimes against him and the other mercs will finally come to light. Fritz is the last one holding the briefcase and even gets to finally reconcile with Jeremy at Dell's bar in the afterlife, even if he respawns one last time soon after. But by far the greatest thing about this film, and the thing that made up for the minimal dialogue for my dad, is the atmosphere.

The atmosphere is nothing short of mesmerizing, there's very little music, only just enough to supplement the tone in a few scenes. All other times the ambient sounds of the environment are all the scene needs to establish how creepy, surreal or hopeless the tone of a scene is. The nigh-omnipresent contrast of red and blue throughout this film, directly calling back to the opposing teams and their perpetual pointless war, is employed to masterful effect, whether to indicate a turning point in a scene, or to illustrate how conflicted a character is. It's simple, maybe even a bit obvious, but it's great nonetheless.

More than anything, watching this film feels like descending into madness in a way that I personally haven't seen an animated film do before now. The feeling that you have while watching Emesis Blue is like swallowing a hungry parasite, and I mean that in the best possible way. It comes upon you slowly but surely, you almost don't perceive it, and by the time you do, it's already got its fangs into you. It nestles deep inside your brain and squirms there long after the credits have run, so that hours later, awake in your bed, you're still thinking about it. Visceral. Terrifying. Beautiful.

Emesis Blue is a modern work of art. My dad thought it was a bit lacking in the script department, but I loved it. If you like your horror with existentialism, surrealism and lots of guns, then I recommend you check it out. It's available on YouTube and I only hope that Fortress Films projects will continue to entertain us in the future. Until next time, how long have I been waiting to do this one?

~A.W.

[flickersprout]

hello would you be willing to say your million opinions about the mystery twins?

WHY YES

I am unwell about these people thank you so much for asking /gen (long post incoming)

I'm a little more familiar with Cellbit's character than Bagi's, so probably have more headcanons about him. I am actively trying to get more unhinged about Bagi because she is so cool and everyone should tell me their Bagi headcanons

Bagi headcanons/opinions:

She should be transfem. as a treat. her being transfem lets me make the twins identical, and anything that makes it more obvious how related they are makes them funnier

Her being transfem also adds fun layers to her relationship with Tina, as Tina is a demon pretending to be human. All I'm saying is you could do some fun parallels and contrasts about presentation and the self

Also if you make her and Jaiden and Baghera all transfem, you get the fun fed-sisters-plus transfem solidarity that exists only in my head

She can only barely cook. She never learned as a kid and then got fucking frozen, and she's tried to learn as an adult but it's not going well

When she thinks about raising Empanada, she gets kinda caught between wanting to pass on the pacifist, live-and-let-live mentality that she pretends to have and the more defensive/aggressive ideas she actually has. She does like the idea of pacifism and doesn't want Empanada to grow up bitter, but... peace isn't what's kept her safe and alive

Empanada's first death resolved a lot of those conflicts. A kinder world isn't coming, so she has to raise a fighter

Her "pretending to be an ethical vegetarian" thing is hilarious to me. girl you aren't pretending to be a vegetarian you just are one. you can lie about your reasons but girl. you don't eat meat

Cellbit headcanons/opinions:

He can't cook even a little bit. Federation pet -> child soldier -> jail-> struggling adult? yeah he never fucking learned to cook

Relatedly I think he's a picky eater but has weird tastes. Like i think he eats instant microwave/just add water foods raw and likes it because he learned to eat it like that at some point, but can't stand a lot of "real food" because he just never got used to it (this is partly based on me lsjkhd)

He owns a butterfly knife and he's good with it. He picked it up as a hobby after Fuga when he was in therapy because he needed something to fill his time and it was a socially acceptable way to carry a knife. He can do all kinds of tricks now

Just pre-purgatory (and probably still now tbh) sometimes the butterfly knife suddenly reminds him too much of a real knife or triggers some kind of intrusive thought that scares him. His reaction to this is to just let go of the knife midair. He's very lucky no one's gotten hurt yet

He 100% remembers more of his childhood with Bagi than he admits. He pretends he doesn't because even acknowledging that he was a child once undermines his image of himself as a monster (upsetting, unhealthy self-image, sure, but one that's kept him safe. monsters aren't afraid of anything. monsters can't be hurt. children, though?)

As much as I understand and will read about autistic!Cellbit headcanons, I don't agree (i am autistic, for the record). He's actually really good with social cues, like scary good, and obviously has really strong theory of mind. Like I get where people are coming from but we need to defend an allistic guy's right to just be a fucking freak (/lh /nm)

I want to call Cellbit and Baghera "hunters" instead of "chainsaw killers." again I get where people are coming from. it's funny and I'll use it. however hunters would go so hard. same genre as codebreakers and bloodhounds. do you see my vision