#mentioned scuttle

[memelordotherblog]

Meanwhile, at the legion of doom:

Mickey Villains just talking about what they did this week:

Kat Nipp kicking the door in: Clipidy clop losers!

Ecks: Oh, come on, not this guy again.

Kat Nipp: Look at this! I got a full proof full plan to get payback on Mickey! What do you think of that?

The Phantom Blot: Yes, yes, Katnipp

Katnip: Yea?

The Phantom Blot: Go home! This is for real threats to Mickey, not school yard bullying.

Kat Nipp: Ah, come on! Pffff! Freaking unbelievably seriously, you invited Scuttle instead of me!

Sylvester: Don't slander Scuttle, Katnipp, He brings the drinks while you... actually, what so you successfully that isn't bullying? Answer quickly.

Kat Nipp: ._.

[wackywatchdotcom]

kinger and scuttle hang out :)

(text is from the wiki page for parasitoid wasps)

[bacchuschucklefuck]

it's hans trapp! from drawfee! hans trapp the straw crab!

[sillybuggoblin]

God I love polyphone I need to draw more polyphone Look at how close Jake is to Harry are you gonna tell me these 3 aren't in love? I didn't think so

[symwinter]

I hate the true selves theory so much that I uno reversed it into this. It happens at some point in season one of my rewrite au thing, but I couldn’t tell you exactly when as of now.

Enjoy. Or don’t. It’s up to you.

“The kwamis overshadow us Chat, how much is your love for me your own feelings?”

Adrien stared at his ceiling in the darkness of his room, his eyes naturally adjusting to accommodate. Ever since his confession to Ladybug earlier that day, he’d been on a downward spiral. It wasn’t just the rejection—one he’d honour or tante Nathalie would have his head—it was the idea he wasn’t himself as Chat Noir.

Sure on some level he separated Adrien and Chat Noir—if he didn’t someone could figure out his identity—but being overshadowed seemed a little too far. He remembered being Chat, the feeling of running across buildings, getting thrown into things (which would be something he’d happily forget), the tingling sensation of pure misfortune in his hand every time he called upon cataclysm. If he wasn’t himself then he wouldn’t he feel less in control?

“Plagg,” he whispered into the darkness. There was a soft hiss—not one of anger or pain, more like the sound of oil heating in a pan, before Plagg pulled himself on to Adrien’s chest, green eyes peering at him. “When I’m Chat Noir, am I me?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Ladybug said when we’re transformed you…overshadow us and that’s where my feelings come from, is that true?”

“In some ways yes,” Plagg replied plainly. “Primarily during fights. You’re sixteen with no proper training. I’m centuries old.”

“But my feelings for Ladybug, are they-”

“Some of them are yours. Most of them are mine. It’s been a while since I’ve seen my sugar cube. She knows that.”

Adrien frowned. He was so certain of his adoration for Ladybug, it couldn’t just be Plagg’s affection piggybacking on to him could it? “I can practically hear you thinking.” The kwami declared. “And you’re over thinking it. It’s not that your feelings aren’t real Adrien, they’re just not as strong as they seem. I heighten them because I miss my love. Close your eyes and really think about your love for Ladybug and it’ll separate pretty quickly.”

Adrien bit his inner cheek but did as Plagg told, closing his eyes and thinking of his lady and the feelings that accompanied her. Usually his heart would feel like it would burst at the mere thought of her, but here and now, in the darkness of his room, the feelings felt dimmer. He still liked her, but it wasn’t so all encompassing. “Huh.”

“Figured it out then?”

Adrien opened his eyes and met Plagg’s. “You must really love Ladybug’s kwami for me to feel it like that,”

“Of course I do,” Plagg replied, his eyes softening. “She’s my other half.”

“Do your holders usually fall in love with their ladybug too?”

“Sometimes, but not always. We’re not our holders. We can't force them who to love. I just have some trouble keeping it to myself at times.”

“How’d you get so wise about romance anyways?” Adrien asked. “It doesn’t seem like your thing.”

“Oh please kid, I’ve been intertwined with romance before people knew what to call it. Do you know how many romances start because of a little bad luck?” Plagg paused. “For example, take you and your girlfriend, baker girl,”

“Marinette’s not my girlfriend,” Adrien interrupted—a little too loudly, cheeks warming at the implication. “She’s just a good friend.”

Plagg peered back at Adrien unblinking, a stark reminder that the small cat creature in his care was fully inhuman, something so easy to forget when he was so small. But the eyes are too green, the flecks within them too clear, the stare too pointed—as if Plagg was peering right through him. But then the kwami blinked and the moment was gone.

“Yeah sure whatever, you and baker girl, right? You lend her your umbrella, it snaps shut on her head and you both have a little laugh about it before coming to an understanding? That’s a bit of misfortune becoming more. Even if I didn’t snap the umbrella myself it’s part of my domain.”

“But what does that-“

“You’ll figure it out kid,” Plagg cut off. “Just get some sleep and we can deal with it later okay?”

“Yeah, okay sure, g’night Plagg.” The kwami slid off his chest and back into the shadows. Adrien pulled his duvet up, letting the familiar darkness of Plagg’s true form slowly lull him to sleep.

“Night kid. Dream of your baker girl for me. It’ll make things easier.”

[slabmaxxing]

observes you curiously and with a twinge of concern

swivels my head(eyeball) 180degrees to stare back at you

[lenny-zesty]

thad’s full name is thaddeus and every time I bring this up to my friends they try to murder me in cold blood

[castelled-away]

I am rewatching bridgerton s3 again before part 2 drops and am hoping beyond hoping that Hyacinth will turn out to be bit of a tomboy when she gets her story

[ratstuckinamarble]

Crawls out of nowhere

You mentioned the chompy ghosts in the back of the one Digimon Card

Those are Bakemon!

Do not confuse them with Soulmon they're different I swear

These ones? Oh thanks! They look so adorable on that card hehe, I like knowing they included other Digimon there and not just random ghosts.

Not like Soulmon you say...

Hmm. Yes very different. One has style (⁠ ⁠´⁠◡⁠‿◡⁠`⁠)

[memelordotherblog]

Pov a typical conversation in the villain group chat:

Pete created the chat: “We hate da mouse.”

Pete added 13 people to the chat. “We Hate da mouse.”

Sylvester: A bit on the nose, isn't it?

Scuttle: No, Pete knows what he's doing, right, Pete!

Pete: Of course I do, and if I get confused, I'll just ask Plotty! He should be on at any minute

Triplex: And what are we then? Cropped liver?

Trudy: Oh, please don't start, Petie is only tryin to make it easier to do our jobs.

Pete: Yep! We gotta try to put our heads together to finally take him down! Any ideas?

Scuttle: Run him over?

Triplex: That is about as efficient as invading Russia in the winter.

Scuttle: :( Rude.

Ecks: Eh, you'll get used to it when you live with him.

Doublex: He's a perfectionist.

Pete: Hey! We're getting off topic. Does anyone have any ideas to deal with that mouse!

Vulter: I do, and it's quite simple. I will wait until he's out at sea, then, then fire my latest fire missile at his ship from under the waves, blowing him to pieces! And if that doesn't rid of him, I'll do him myself!

Scuttle: 😶

Triplex: I like it.

Rhymes : 🙂

Sylvester: It's a bit uncouth, and we may have to deal with bystanders..

Blot: A bit is vastly underselling it. We aren't brutes.

Pete: Aye Blotty! You made it! :D

Blot: Yes.. and why is he here?

Rhymes: 😊👋

Pete: Hey, it ain't my fault! Da only other spy I know is Trigger! And I haven't seen him in forever!

Blot: Anyone, and I mean anyone else would have been better, Pete.

Rhymes: Insults will not aid the so-called adult in his results in the cult of assault.

Blot: ….. Blot has blocked Rhymes.

Scuttle: Dang already?

Trudy: I guess this is better than them fighting all the time.

Portis: Indeed, this is the ideal solution for everyone.

Pete: Portis! What told ye so long!

Portis: I was busy designin’ a new drill, but I kept an eye on the conversation.

Pete: Good cause we need ideas for da mouse! Ye got any?

Portis: Well, I did get finished with a teleporter. It could come in use with getting rid of him.

Ecks: Or it could make a clone of yourself that you had to kill in cold blood.

Pete: …

Trudy : …..

Blot: ….

Scuttle: WHAT DID YOU DO?

Eck: A MISTAKE.

Doublejoke: No, killing the clone is always a good idea.

Doublex: And I thought we love murder.

Ecks: WHEN IT'S NOT ME, YES.

Eli: Duckgle where's the coffee place? - Eli Squinch.

Vulter: This chat is a nightmare.

Totally Mickey (Miklos): Fuck.

[thatoneteadrinker666]

Heyyyy y’all! It’s been a while- mainly because I had school and also really bad depression for the longest time. Admittedly the depression is still here and school is in a week but heyyyyy at least I wrote something! So yeah addition to extermination au-

A Hat Unfit to Wear

Warnings: mentions of digestion, ambiguous ending, fear, definitely not safe vore, Wilbur back at it again

Eret squinted, trying to make out a face from the flesh colored blur of his attacker. Normally Fundy would’ve helped describe their surroundings, but he’d vanished about twenty minutes ago. So Eret was left on his own to navigate his environment. Normally it was empty. But today, apparently not.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” He asked, straining to see the owner of the warm hand he was caught in.

They only laughed, bringing Eret closer to their face, the mouth specifically, which turned up into a grin. “I’m the one they call to fix things. Things that you and your little friend and the rest of your kind ruin.”

“My friend? Fundy? You saw him?” Eret ignored what they’d said in favor of focusing on Fundy. She liked Fundy a lot. They were good friends. She’d like him back.

“Ohh. Fundy. Fun-dy. He was fun. I definitely saw him. I could..bring you to him.”

Eret perked up, ignoring a slight dribble of drool that slid near his face. “Yes! That would be so kind of you!” She beamed.

“I am kind, aren’t I? Fixing things for very little pay. Reuniting.. whatever you two were.” The giant scoffed.

“Were..?”

——

Wilbur snapped his jaws over the borrower and slurped them up, shoving his tongue into their face. They didn’t react immediately like most, instead patting and feeling over it with their tiny hands. And then shrieking.

“No! Please! I just want to see him again!”

Wilbur only laughed, curling his tongue around the borrower and pulling them close to his throat. They were slower to struggle than most. It seemed they had to feel around first before struggling. Less fun than the other one. Though he could still feel the little hairs of their tail tickling the back of his throat. Wilbur brought his chin up and let the borrower slide into his throat with a cute little shriek.

He let them squirm for a bit, grinning at the desperate clutching for the back of his tongue. They’d caught on by now, what was going to happen to them. Took them long enough. Wilbur placed a hand over his throat and swallowed heavily, enjoying the familiar feeling of a lump moving down his throat. Job done.

——

Eret gasped for air, trying to press out at the esophageal walls so he could have even the slightest bit of space. The giant must have been lying. He clawed at the flesh. But she couldn’t avert her fate. With a groan she slid into the active stomach, landing in a puddle of… well she couldn’t tell. Eret scrambled up to a stand, squinting around. His eyesight was already somewhat testy. And now the darkness of the stomach wasn’t helping.

“Please.. please let me out.” Eret begged, pressing against the churning walls.

“I think not. Plus, you wanted to see your friend again. I think you’ll find him soon enough.” The giant cackled, jostling their stomach around.

Eret stumbled and slipped, once again splashing into the puddle. And something touched their hand. She grabbed it and held it up to her face. There were holes all throughout the fabric. It was barely held together by pieces of string. But even with his eyesight and the lack of any light source, Eret could tell what it was. It was Fundy’s hat.

[wackywatchdotcom]

anyway i dug around for more scuttle art. its normal

[charrchan]

I hope the spider that I just flung out from under my duvet knows that I still love it but I just wasn't ready to take that step in our relationship

[glassarrows]

also heads up for those who i haven’t interacted with yet or haven’t in a while: i am chronically slow and tired so i can take a hot minute to reply ic even if i’m fast ooc. i work in an office so i unfortunately have to mitigate my fun computer time so i don’t make my eye strain / posture issues worse. i can also be very forgetful so i may ask to clarify things more often when plotting to make sure i’m getting your character right and not assuming!!

also i live in the world’s worst timezone so i will not always be on the dash at “regular” hours

[puppet-noises]

I do NOT

I do not SCUTTLE

I do not SCURRY ABOUT

I am a MAN

I WALK

I MOVE

I occasionally partake in the JOG or RUN

I am HUMAN

NOT A CREATURE

fun music fact ☝️

a percussionist is a type of creature that scuttles often

[chuluoyi]

✎ all of me

- gojo satoru x reader

you understand that some things in marriage just needs compromise. and he soon understands too, when you're at your most vulnerable and he fails to be by your side when you need him the most

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship (you're married & have a son!) argument, feral gojo, mentions of injury & blood, fluff

note: if it isn't obvious by now i'm in the mood of angst-hurt/comfort this week HEHE :)) this is longer than the usual love entry, so i hope you'll enjoy it!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Bantering with your husband is not uncommon―in fact, it happens on daily basis.

"Satoru― I'm talking to you!"

But having serious arguments with him is another matter entirely.

Your fists tightening at your sides, facing his unamused expression. How insufferable is he? You told him that everyday, but right now, he's truly surpassed previous levels of infuriating behavior.

"And I can hear you, sweetheart," he retorted, casting a glance your way. The term of endearment he used for you sounding almost like a sneer to your ears and you felt offended.

"I don't think you're taking this seriously," you griped, trying to calm your emotions, still balling your hands. "Someone is following our son on his way back from school―how can you be this... flippant?!"

Numerous photograph of your son exiting the school building from different angles had arrived in your mailbox, and if it wasn't a creepy warning from those who placed a target on his back, then you didn't know what it was.

Satoru let out an exasperated grunt. "I'm telling you, I'll pick him up for the rest of the week. No one will lay a hand on him."

You gritted your teeth. "And I'm telling you, they're trying to make you do just that. Even morons know not to mess with you― they're leaving hints, and you're taking the bait!"

Contrary to what you believed, Satoru felt just as worried as you upon knowing that someone might have marked his precious son, who was now six years old and had recently started attending preschool.

But this is where your approaches differ. You are always the cautious one, overanalyzing each detail, while he leans towards being impulsive, often resorting to brute force.

"Who do you think can stand a chance against me?" Satoru challenged with a real sneer this time. "Remember my words, wife, no one is going to hurt me, you or our baby. I'll end them where they stand."

"That's not the point!" you threw your hands in the air, irate. "Satoru, they're going to take advantage of―"

"Look, I don't want to argue with you." Satoru's gaze was hard on you, his tone clipped, and it made you stiffen. "His safety comes first— and you, of all people, should know I'd never let anything happen to him. You need to quit nitpicking and have a little faith in me."

"I know you are more than capable, but you are not―!"

And then he said it, and his words piercing through you like a knife―

"Don't compare me to you," your husband remarked a little too coldly. "I can do things you can't. Just rest your pretty head, I'll take care of the rest."

Nevermind that he blatantly dismissed your skills as a jujutsu sorcerer, nevermind that he totally didn't listen to you at all―he just went and made himself look like some sort unparalleled god, forgetting how much his hubris could actually take him.

And all these thoughts only made you angrier.

"So be it then." You tried desperately to hold yourself from shaking because you'd be damned if you showed it to him. "A word of advice, Satoru: beware of your arrogance."

With those words, you spun around, marching off toward your son's room, because no way in hell was you going to sleep with that obnoxious prick tonight.

But when you caught the sight of your baby scuttling away from the gap in the door, a fragment of your heart crumbled. Oh. He has seen it all.

In Gojo Satoru's mind, he is made of two things: a powerful jujutsu sorcerer and a family man.

With his immense strength, comes a certain responsibility. And with that responsibility, certain habits have formed. If you just took a few seconds to breathe and looked back throughout the past decade he'd spent with you, you'd know that in fact―

It was also his way to shield you. Satoru stands by the principle that you and his little boy must be protected at all cost, and he most certainly would pull all stops to do just that.

But frankly, he couldn't deny that he felt insulted by how defiant you were. Did you really think he would let anyone ever touch your―his―son? He wouldn't, they'd meet his wrath first and you should've known that.

Still, something akin to guilt nudged at his conscience as he lay alone in your shared bed that night. It felt strange not having you cuddling him. He felt empty.

. . .

None of your shampoo-scented pillow, none of your nightdresses, all of it replaced by a single photo hanging in the wall and the urn of ashes—

Abruptly, he jerked his eyes open, shaken from the most dreadful nightmare he had experienced—

Of you no longer by his side.

“Mama.” Your little boy looked up to you with his doe-blue eyes in the next day, his hand gripping yours. “I’ll be fine.”

You were accompanying him to the preschool. While Satoru had requested Ichiji to drive him, you insisted on tagging along to keep a watchful eye as well. You'd leave your husband to pick him up later just as he wanted.

“Huh?” you turned to him, tilting your head.

“I'll stick by Uncle Ichiji's side the entire time,” he replied in a murmur. “And papa will be picking me up too later. If there are bad guys, they'll get him first.”

You bit your lip, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. Your boy witnessed your outburst last night and hadn't inquired about it until now, and even then, he was trying to reassure you.

“So… don’t fight.” His round, cerulean eyes then darted towards you, blinking hesitantly, causing you to catch your breath.

He looks so much like Satoru. At six years old, he was the spitting image of him, except his personality—he took after you in that area. It was as if your son was a softer, more innocent version of him. And your heart twisted, remembering your argument last night.

Don't compare me to you.

With a sigh, you bent down to be eye-level with him and managed a smile, holding both of his little hands. “I’m sorry… it was just misunderstanding last night, okay? Don’t worry.”

“…really?”

“Really. Mama and papa were just tired,” you tried to reason, a thin smile on your face. "It's going to be okay, just like you said, yeah? Papa will beat the bad guys out there."

“Will he pull through...? If they bring a knife, and he's just there laughing, they can cut him.”

A giggle escaped your lips at your baby's innocent wonderings, easing the ache in your heart as you recalled how Satoru humored him in so many ways.

You gently poked your son in the cheek. "Nah, do you remember what he always goes on about?"

He puffed up his cheeks in response, his expression turning sour as if combing through memories of hundreds of shenanigans Satoru had instigated to recall his words. You let out a hearty chuckle, finding him so adorable.

"He's strong, he's going to win. He always does."

"Oh. Mmm." Your son scrunched up his nose cutely, before looking away and squeezing your hand. A sincerer smile bloomed in your lips, heart melting at the sight of your growing munchkin.

You will protect him. And maybe you could patch things up with Satoru later that night. Maybe yesterday you were just too paranoid.

That was the plan... at least until your son suddenly screamed—someone wrenching him from your grasp. Without a second thought, you reacted, flipping the attacker away from you and him.

. . . and that was the beginning of how everything started to unravel so terribly that day.

"Gojo-san...! There's been an incident!"

He got that call right after he finished some things with Yaga. Satoru teleported to the preschool right away, only to be greeted by a scene of utter chaos.

Several teachers stood outside the building, and police officers were present at the scene. It was all a blur of cursed energy until his eyes caught sight of—

His little boy, red-faced and obviously in fear, was clinging to Ichiji, who was frantically making calls. Some teachers gathered around him were seemingly trying to coax him to speak.

He didn't waste a second to dash towards him, tearing through the crowd.

"Are you okay? Hey, buddy, what happened?" Satoru pulled him away from Ichiji and turned him over, crouching to his level to check for any signs of injury or harm.

And upon seeing him actually here, his son's eyes immediately welled up with tears, and Satoru felt a chill run through his veins as he broke into sobs, which quickly turned into heart-wrenching wails.

"Mama—! F-find mama—!" the little boy choked out through his tears, clutching onto his shirt tightly and crumbling in his embrace, thoroughly inconsolable.

Satoru's sharp gaze quickly swept over the scene, seeking any clues, while he tightened his hold over him. It was then he noticed traces of your cursed energy mingled with blood.

They hurt you.

"Hey, kiddo—listen to me, it's going to be alright, yeah?" Satoru said, gently pulling away to wipe away his tears, holding the boy's face tenderly in his hands. "Go with Ichiji for now, okay? I'm going to bring mama back, I promise."

He didn't need to be told twice. Your son is always obedient when it matters the most. He gave him a small nod, still shaking with tears.

"Don't worry," he flashed a reassuring smile and ruffled his hair. "I'm the strongest, remember? I'll get her back," he vowed once again. "She'll be fine. Wait for me until then, yeah?"

Ichiji was ready to leave as he had called for those in headquarters as backup in case anything were to happen again. Trusting him to keep his son safe, Satoru took off as soon as he could no longer see the sight of his son's tear-streaked face trying to watch him as the car pulled away.

"I won't repeat myself— where is my wife?"

Satoru wasn't playing this time. He skipped past taunts and just plain threats. These little fries, he thought.

The man he held by the throat was in a lot of distress. "Hyaaa! It's him! Please, please, let me go! I'm acting under orders!"

He then flung him across the wall— might have added more cursed energy than necessary.

At the moment, his entire focus was on trying to locate you. He couldn't let his mind wander to anything else; in fact, he didn't permit himself to.

It didn't take him long to piece together the general location of where you were through the residual of your cursed energy. They stationed several hooligans in this abandoned warehouse to stall him, but he got rid of them quickly and he could sense that you were close by.

"It's Gojo Satoru!"

"Run! Ruuuun!"

What a pain. They picked the wrong person to mess with, and Satoru's lips curled into a manic grin as he opened his palm, pulling them in—

"Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue."

Chaos erupted as the building collapsed around him. He hoped you would realize he was here and manage to avoid getting caught in the wreckage. He was sure you'd know though.

And true to his thoughts, soon he found you— blasting your attacker away with a powerful kick.

Satoru thought that you were a sight to behold, really. And he was about to call out to you when he felt it.

It happened almost in an instant. The way his heart dropped to his stomach, and how his body reacted, barely whispering the incantation for Red as he shot it at something lurking behind you—

At that moment, the only thing you were aware of was the foul stench of a curse. Time seemed to stop before the overwhelming force of Red expelled it away from you.

But before then, you experienced a searing, white-hot pain that scorched through your flesh and pierced your abdomen—

"Y/N―fuck―!" The voice that came from Satoru's throat was raw and laden with panic.

He pulled you against him protectively as you collapsed, blinded by pain. He immediately felt warmth spreading across his lower body—your blood was rapidly drenching his shirt, and he felt a shiver down his spine.

You held onto him tightly while suppressing your scream, feeling every bit of your strength drain away along with the dark crimson blood that poured out of you.

"―toru―" you managed to croak amidst the scalding pain, curling and whimpering in his hold.

"Hey― sweetheart, please―" his voice rang in your ears, as he pressed down on your wound. His hands were shaking, and you clawed at him and groaned in agony. "I-I'm taking you back now― You're going to be alright, yeah?"

The wound was beyond anything you had experienced before, causing you to cry out and gasp for air. It was almost as if something fried your insides. It was hard to stay conscious.

"I've got you now. You're going to be okay." His voice was coarse, as he hurriedly carried you out. And he tried not to let the full-blown panic take over him when your body went limp in his arms, your breaths slowing, head lolling in his chest.

"You're going to be alright! You hear me, sweetheart? You're going to make it. Our baby― he's waiting for you. I promise you, you're going to be fine―"

Perhaps he was trying to tell that to himself, because despite the excruciating pain, a wave of reassurance washed over you.

You were in the arms of the strongest sorcerer alive, what more could you possibly afraid of?

A special grade curse. They had actually unleashed a potent curse and likely aimed at him as their final card—until it veered off course and struck you, leaving a searing gash across your abdomen.

Satoru felt numb as he sat in the waiting room in his bloodied uniform. You got hurt so terribly right in front of his eyes, and all he could feel was this profound void that seemed to bore through him and pierced his soul.

He was supposed to protect you. He said it to your face that nothing and no one would touch your son, and it was in his wedding vows that he'd protect you with his life too.

And yet what happened?

If only he was faster. If only he was able to pull you to him and protect you with his infinity—none of this shit would have happened.

Seeing your face twisted in agony and smeared with blood made him feel sick to his stomach. Inside that OR, you hovered on the brink of life and death, and he was here, unable to do anything.

Satoru rested his head against the wall, feeling a sharp pain surge through his chest. He remembered waking up to your face every morning, the way your touches felt, and how you had brightened his world for the past decade. If he lost you now... he wouldn't survive it. He would wreck anything, everything—

"Papa!" and came his voice of reason. Satoru immediately discarded his bloodstained jacket by instinct, throwing it away before his boy could see it, with Ichiji and Megumi closely trailing behind.

His son crashed himself into him and threw his little arms around his torso, crying—and in that very second, the thump of his heart sounded louder in his ears. Somehow it felt like a knife that twisted his insides.

"Hey, kiddo." Satoru repositioned him so that he would sit on his lap and hugged him, patting him in the back. "There, there... it's alright, yeah? Mama is inside, she'll get better soon."

Your little boy pulled away and wiped his eyes, and Satoru chuckled as he helped him blow his nose. His child was incredibly adorable, and his actions mirrored yours to such an extent that it made Satoru's heart soften.

"Mama g-got hurt trying to... tell me to g-go..." the boy suddenly said amidst his quieter sniffles. "And... she s-said... papa— i-is strong and g-going to win..."

You believe in him. Ignoring the ache in his chest, only able to reply him with a "Yeah..."

Not long after, Shoko emerged from the operating room and informed him that the surgery had been successful, though you would likely need to have a one-week stay in the hospital for observation. He intended to move you to the VIP suite and stay the night there, but then he remembered his son, who was holding his hand.

Satoru crouched down and patted him in the head, fixing him a smile. "See? Mama is okay, but she needs to sleep here to get even better. Now you go home first with big brother Megumi, yeah?"

Your son adored Megumi and often begged you to let him stay over at his place, but this time he looked hesitant, fiddling with his little fingers. "Really? Mama will be home... soon?"

"Mm-hmm, the more she sleeps here, the faster she'll go back home, alright?"

And with that, his baby nodded and Satoru turned to Megumi with a nod. "Thank you for this, Megumi."

The boy whose life he had once saved on some sort of a whim, now grown up and shared the same concern he had for you, Fushiguro Megumi had never before witnessed his benefactor expressing such sincere gratitude for anything before.

When you came to, your body felt as heavy as lead.

The discomfort in your abdomen made you flinch, and you almost let out a groan until you turned to your side and saw him.

Satoru was asleep while sitting in the sofa next to your bed, dark circles evident under his eyes. It might have been your imagination, but his cheeks appeared to be slightly red too.

You tried to recall what had happened to you when it came back—you urging your son to run away as you let yourself being taken away, almost escaping from that warehouse, the flash of excruciating pain, and Satoru's stricken voice.

So he must've been here since last night. Any remnants of your disagreement seemed to have vanished, seeing him there with you, barely covering himself with the blanket, with a frown still marking his forehead even in his sleep.

You wanted to reach out to him until the movement sent a sharp jab to your stomach and you cried out a bit.

In that split second, Satoru's eyes jerked open, and realizing you were awake, his gaze locked onto yours. "Y/N—" But your strained whimper and expression told him everything. "Does it hurt? I-I'll get Shoko, wait—"

And then he hit the call button. Throughout it all, he kept a firm grip on your hand for reassurance. A few minutes later, Shoko arrived and examined your wound, subsequently administering painkillers to alleviate your discomfort.

"It's going to leave a scar," she explained grimly, showing the mangled skin where the curse had made its mark on you, and seeing that, Satoru clenched his fists.

Shoko sighed, empathizing with her friend's frustration. "It's going to fade with time, don't worry. You did well, Gojo. You brought her here quickly. Had you been even slightly later, there could have been an irreversible damage to her organs."

But your husband remained quiet, unable to bring himself to look at you. And after she left, you tried to finally voice your question to him.

"O-our—"

"He's fine," Satoru immediately answered, squeezing your hand. "Our boy is fine. I'll tell Megumi to visit later—he's with him."

A sigh of relief came out of you. "Thank... goodness."

But his expression seemed to fall even further after hearing your response. Satoru settled himself on the seat next to you and lowered the rail on your bed, allowing you to be even closer to each other.

"Do you not feel any pain anymore?" he asked then, gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. He looked so sad, a stark contrast of how he usually was, and it bugged you.

"No... I feel fine now."

"Then, can I hug you?"

Of course you nodded without a second thought, and carefully, he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you close and resting his face on the crook of your neck.

You knew what it was. Satoru was still visibly shaken by what had happened to you, and he wasn't great at expressing himself, so he tried to find consolation through this physical closeness instead.

"I'm okay..." you patted his back, trying to convince him. "I'm alright now, yeah?" But to your surprise, suddenly his whole body started to shake. "Satoru...?"

“…’m sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he nuzzled you. “I shouldn't... have let you get this hurt...”

It always amazes you how Satoru always gets this distressed whenever you sustain any injury. You had seen him cry precisely two times now—once after you gave birth to your son and experienced severe bleeding, and now.

"It's not your fault..." you whispered in response. "You... have protected me well."

He held you tighter, his tone faltering. "I didn't."

"You have..." you stroked his hair, trying to convince him. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Hearing you say that made Satoru's chest ache. The thought of something like this happening to you was unimaginable, and now that it had, he couldn't come to terms with seeing you hurt right in front of him.

"Don't—" he choked on his voice, his breath trembled against your neck. "Don't ever put yourself in danger again. If something happened to you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself..."

You couldn't make that promise. Despite the pleading in his voice, you knew deep down that your son's life—and his—meant more, and given the chance, you would obviously save theirs for yours.

“Satoru... I love you, you know that, right?”

So you simply embraced him close, hoping that in this life, you would live long enough that he would never have to see you like this again.

Epilogue

"Papa, how do I become stronger?"

Satoru blinked when his son asked him that so innocently and curiously, taken aback as he led him to your private room later that afternoon. "Oh? What brought this on?"

His first and only son, a perfect miniature of himself, pursed his lips. "I don't want Mama to get hurt again..."

Satoru's heart warmed at his baby’s sincere words, and despite himself, he chuckled.

"What's funny?" his son leveled a glare at him. "I'm being serious."

"Well, aren't you such a good boy? Don't worry, kiddo, I'll teach you my ways~"

"What ways?"

"Well, no need to rush, pumpkin. First of all, you will have to harness your skills and then you have to be more like me—"

"Do I have to be like you…? Is there no other way?"

"—? What's wrong with being more like me?"

"Everything...?"