yenniluvv

[yenniluvv]

Them after leaving jujutsu high ^_^

fr tho they so cunty bruh

[yenniluvv]

CHAPTER ONE

—⊱✿⊰—

free Palestine, free Sudan—no one is free until we all are free.

hi ! I am so glad to share the first chapter of my little series Bite Your Tongue! :) I really do hope everyone enjoys this read,, and it eases your mind even slightly. enjoy :) 💜

content warnings: this chapter contains mentions of self harm, alcohol usage, drug use, and other mature themes. please do not read it any of topics might trigger you. ICYMI — if you’d like to read it on wattpad, for better formatting, and pretty images, my username is joannasprose 💜🗡️ :)))

—⊱✿⊰—

THE NIGHT THOSE feelings had arrived unwarranted, had been one full of an array of emotions. Questions danced across your mind in complete silence as you sat by yourself in the dark. Wondering, contemplating—anything that might solve the complexity in which your mind holds.

———

ITS A COOLER night than most.

You hadn't been one for it, the unrelenting cold. You run your hands over the exposed skin of your arms, and as you step into the crowded space—almost immediately met with smell of alcohol and artificial air wafting through it; you find yourself regretting the agreement of a night out.

The venue is filled with strangers; some stumbling over their own feet, others stand near the front door—strangers, in which you nearly have push past to get by, and finally, the weird sweaty smell that lingers in the air.

Perhaps it was the alluring feeling of relief, leaving the stress of life tucked beneath bed-covers, and consuming the potions that you knew Dina would concoct. Or maybe it had been her alluring words themselves; that somehow, in some way, had always seemed to persuade you. But the adrenaline, the tiniest bits of excitement that pooled in your mind slowly began to dissipates along with other things—and you find yourself cringing as you nearly bump into everyone around you.

Taking a vacant seat at the bar, in the far corner, you find that your heart is beating as fast as your thoughts. Another senseless night of watching strangers become too drunk to hold themselves up—and another wondering when it would end. And as your foot taps against the floor incessantly, Dina's hand to your shoulder is the only thing that pulls you out of that dissociative state.

"Hey! You made it!" she says, her words spoken loudly over the blaring music, leaning close to your ear, hoping to evade the mix of voices and music that seems to bounce off walls and blend together.

Now, as she takes a seat next to you—turning to her—you meet her eyes, looking over her thick eyelashes.

Dina Woodward always held some kind of edge to her. Whether that was in the way she dressed, the way she held her bluntness between her teeth, or her dark brown hair that fell past her shoulders tonight; all of it was piercing as a snake bite.

Yet she loved the simple things; the movies and books she would often find herself crying to, the vulnerabilities that steadily seemed to resurface. All of it had been put on display amongst the walls of your shared apartment.

"You asked me to come," you say. Dina rolls her eyes before taking a sip from the drink clutched in her hands, and then, "where's Jesse?" You could almost feel the annoyance hanging off her alcohol coated breath. Her frustration was not aimed towards you, but rather, the difficulty of her relationship.

"Wherever he is." She simply says, and this time, she brings the cup to her lips and swallows a mouthful.

You hum in response, settling your hands into your lap and watching as she sets her cup down on the wooden counter. "You want a drink?" She leans in close, nearly shouting in your ear when she does. You shake your head in response, and as she settles back into her seat, she rolls her eyes. "Seriously? I didn't beg you to come so you could stand off in the corner and do nothing."

Shrugging your shoulders, you speak: "Yeah? And if I get shitfaced, who'll drive us home?" You cock a brow, just in time to catch yet another roll of her eyes.

"What? Poor baby can't handle her alcohol?" This time, you're the one to roll eyes when she speaks. You had known Dina since the end of your 8th grade year in middle school—and since then, the two of you had always seemed to stick together like messily placed glitter.

"Shut up," you say, nudging her side playfully.

Suddenly, she perks up. Dina stands from her seat next to now readily getting up to move. "I'll be right back! Gonna do find someone," she says, looking off at whatever's behind you, before directing her attention back to you. "And I'm gonna go get you that drink." Before you could protest, Dina's already left your side, blurring into the sea of people.

You've found that you never enjoyed large gatherings. You never strayed away from them, but you had never indulged in them either. Your eyes skim across the room, watching people packed together as if they were in minimal space converse in undying conversations.

The moment Dina had left out of your sights, and the moment you turned back around towards the wooden counter—that unyielding anxiety had begun to latch on again like a vine infested bush.

You think about spring in your sophomore year of high school; one spent sat on Dina's floor, making shitty posters for her band on canvas using a free trial. That spring, one where it had been so humid, that you could almost find comfort even in its humidity. And you know it's because you'd hadn't met him yet—when he hadn't stuck his dog-teeth into you.

Your foot begins to pick up where it left off, tirelessly bouncing up and down against the floor. That same, grueling anxiety seems as though it begs to take root in your mind.

Terminal was the name of Dina's band. Herself, and two other girls around your age. You'd never met them, far too busy with cognitives of work and your home life to venture and leave. You had yet to see her preform either—not including when she'd play demos and such of what she had been working on.

You've heard them on CDs she would give you, recordings she made, "Why not just use Spotify? Isn't that easier?"  You asked her as she shoved her hand in the deep pits of her bag, searching for a few moments before pulling out the thing and giving it to you.

"Because we're broke as shit." She had replied, and as she lingers bitterly in your mind, you begin to shift in your seat, placing your elbow on the table and resting your head on your hand.

Dina didn't quite fit the 'normal' standard for the music she played. And that alone is what you always admired about her. Surely, her witty and snappy demeanor had made up for it.

Five minutes have gone by now. Five long minutes of no sign of Dina, no text message, and indication on when she would be returning. Pulling your phone from your pocket, holding it close to your face to unlock it—you open the messages between the two of you, now typing away on your phone.

YOU: hey, you okay? where are you?

A few minutes pass—one, two, three, four of them before you get a text back.

DINA: shit, yeah sorry. I'm with Jesse, I didn't mean to leave you I swear. We're talking now I guess

YOU: it's fine. I'm gonna head step out for a little bit. If you need me

DINA: are you okay? I can come back and talk with him later

YOU: Dina, It's fine, seriously it's just kinda hot in here

DINA: okay, text me if you need anything okay?

YOU: okay

———

( play Main Theme - soundtrack by Alex G )

Pushing past the mounds of bodies, letting countless of apologies fall from your throat is what annoys you the most. Not the fact that Dina had brought you here, and then promptly left you for Jesse. Irritation, as it had, slips past your barricade, and renders it all useless as you slither through the crowd, stalking towards the sign that read exit, in a bright, red neon.

You don't smoke and yet as you leave the venue, pushing your back harshly against the wall behind you, you found yourself wishing you did. The moon is a sharp blade of silver, keeping the alleyway alight, along with the street light that stands tall at the end of it.

For the first time tonight, you are truly alone. Alone with what haunts you, with your grueling thoughts and what the night has to offer you. Though, that unrecognized ache still curls inside of you. 

Maybe you would have still been alone, if the sound of footsteps weren't thudding against the ground, invading your silence.

You quickly lift your head up, eyes pouring over the stranger who approaches you, hands that had once hung at their sides for a brief moment, now pulled  promptly to either side of their head.

"Sorry," they pause their stride almost immediately, now only standing a few paces away from you. "Didn't mean to scare you or anything." Now, as you get a good look at the stranger—something about them had seemed so familiar as the moon puts their features on displays.

From a short distance, you almost couldn't tell if her hair was black or merely just a dark brown. Her frame is tall, not much taller than your own, but tall enough to vaguely stand over you. Freckles decorate her face like scattered paint, and her eyes are unreadable, they sit between a light green, and yet a much darker one. A Loose pair of blue jeans hug her waist almost perfectly, and on her shoulders, lays a grey flannel, along with a white tank top that displays only a hint of her collar bone.

It's a new angle for you. To see her fully. It clicks when she lowers her hand, when the shadow across her face now promptly falls and you finally get to see her fully.

Now, it's when you notice the scar that adorns her right eyebrow.

After a long moment, she speaks again, "You're Dina's friend, right?" She asks, moving to lean against the wall along with you, though she leaves a lengthy space between the two of you.

You nod hesitantly before speaking, "Yeah," you say, eyes watching closely as she shoves her hands into pants pockets, and then: "Aren't you the guitarist in her band?"

She scoffs, looking over to you with narrowed brows, "'Her band'," she questions, smiling with her teeth now, "it's Dina's band now?" She measures, amusement strung across her features.

"I mean, well, Terminal." You stumble on your words, though you find that the smile she held a moment prior still resides there, unwavering.

"Yeah. I'm in Dina's band. She asked me to come out here to make sure you were alright." Before you know it, shes pulled a hand from the depths of her pocket, holding it out to you, "Ellie Williams, and you, Dina’s friend?"

You roll your eyes, but nonetheless, you place your hand in hers, feeling as her grip tightens slightly around yours. Shockingly, it isn't harsh. You could practically feel the callouses on her fingertips, yet you find that her touch is still soft. Weirdly comforting.

"Y/N." You breath.

She smiles when you look at her, though this time it feels different from the others. More genuine.

Your eyes travel down to her hand, and slowly, they travel up her arm, only momentarily catching the black ink sunken deep into her skin—as well valley of red hidden underneath the sleeves of her flannel before she briskly pulls away.

"I haven't seen you around before," she mutters, her voice suddenly quieter, digging into her pockets before pulling an out a pack of cigarettes from them, taking one out of the pack while she holding it in her hand as she speaks. "You just moved here?" Ellie pulls a light out of her other pocket, flicking it a few times, and when it finally ignites a flame—she holds it to the bud.

"Yeah. Just moved here a few weeks ago." She hums, pulling the cigarette from her mouth, while then letting tendrils of smoke escape her lips, and with you watching guilty, she speaks, "You smoke?"

For a moment, you think back to the reason you left the venue in the first place. The undying conversations, the smell of alcohol seeping into your nostrils—and that brief annoyance you had willfully felt for Dina when she left. You think about it for a short moment, eyes still on Ellie, you heave a sigh, "A little," you say, which hadn't completely been a lie, yet not the truth either.

Her eyes watch over you for a moment, eyes wavering, she gestures the box towards you, and watches as you take one from the pack.

Slyly keeping the thing tucked between her lips, she lets you settle it between your own lips. Nearing you, again, it takes three tries until the fire ignites. She nears it to the tip of it, waiting, and then pulling away when she's sure it's been lit.

You inhale its smoke, tasting its bitterness, and take it all in, while briefly exhaling. A faint cough escapes your throat.

"What do you do?" She says, which startles you considering you had only just now gotten used to the brief silence. Pulling it from your lips, and looking over to Ellie as she stares at the puddle in front of her speak: "I'm a journalist. I also write books sometimes, working on my first one."

You watch her eyes rise, and you watch as a smile pulls at her lips, willingly, "Well shit," she says, a smile that you strangely find comforting—which is weird, considering you don't know her—curls on her lips. "Dina really does have some interesting friends."

"She doesn't talk about me?" You ask, feeling a sting of pain at the revelation, though Ellie is quick to crumble any of those feelings, "She does, I'm sure. I'm just not around much."

You hum in response tiredly in response before speaking, "What do you do?" You ask, realizing the cigarette had been hanging between your fingertips, the smoke vaguely emitting off of it. You pull it to your lips. "Well, as you know, I'm in Dina's band," you roll your eyes as you let smoke fall from your lips, "I've said that once. And this is my first time speaking to you, are you ever gonna let that go?"

"Nope." She says, quickly, too quickly for comfort.

"Anyway," she follows, "I'm also a tattoo artist."

Your brows perk in interest, eyes skimming over her skin, and in that moment, you watch as she turns away from you.

"Are you gonna show me any of your tattoos? Wanna try to impress me?"

Ellie hums, perhaps contemplating, perhaps alluding you to believe she is before she says, "Maybe another time."

A rebuttal lies on your lips, another strange urge to see the strangers hidden tattoos inked in skin, but you have restraint tucked between your gums. So you don't question her.

"Well..." you say, switching the topic, "I'm writing a piece on the Enchanting Beauty of Art," you say, pulling the almost finished bud to your lips, inhaling the smoke, and then promptly blowing it out.

You put it out on the brick wall, listening to its subtle hiss as you speak, "it's about art. Um, obviously."

Ellie hums, and then, "Is that your title," she questions. Now, you notice that she's already finished hers. The space between her lips are empty, along with her fingers, "You want me to give you some insight, or some shit? I'm not that good." She says, rather plainly.

"You're probably good enough. Better than me."

Ellie pushes herself off the wall. And for a moment, you begin to she's planning to get ready to leave before she pulls her phone from her pocket, opening it and handing it to you. "Text me. Call me, or whatever you want. I'll answer your questions."

Your brows raise when she spoke, looking down to her hand, and back up to her space, you find yourself yet again, stumbling over your words, "I mean. You don't have to, I was joking."

Ellie doesn't drop her hand, only a sly smile sneaks onto her lips again, though, you never even considered if it had left, "Well, if you were joking, then that's seriously fucking embarrassing on my part," she began, still gesturing towards you, "and to soothe said embarrassment, give me yours and I'll give you mine. Text me when you need it."

A smile creeps on your lips, it's undeniable, and you watch as her eyes waft over to the cupids bow of them, watching for a considerably long moment before saying: "Playing the guitar has helped me learn I can keep my hand up for a very long time," she shrugs, "might wanna take it before we spend the entire night out here."

You practically scramble to take her phone from your hands as you pull out yours. "Shit. Sorry."

You hold hers in your hand for moment as you pull out your own, unlocking it and then pressing the phone app and quickly handing it to her.

The both of you type away. She calls her own number, and you feel as the phone buzzes in your hands when she does.

Ellie slips her phone into her pocket when you hand it to her.

"You goin' back inside?" She asks, her eyes narrowing at you. You catch a hint of a sweet southern accent.

"Are you trying to get rid of me that fast?" You quip, and Ellie smiles.

She sighs, "Just wanted to make sure you got back inside safe so Dina's not on my ass again." You laugh, stuffing your phone into your pockets. You hum in response, and she bids you goodbye.

When you near the door, she watches and then turns on her heel. And for a moment, you watch her departure.

You feel the simmer of something bubbling up inside your stomach, something unrelenting as you walk through the double doors. You realize, as you shuffled through your pants pockets, that you've been clutching the abandoned cigarette the entire time.

You hadn't felt the burn. If there were one.

You think of Ellie's subtle, kind words, her restrained yet welcoming demeanor. And as you spot Dina in the crowd, ushering you over—you'd wished you met her earlier on.

———

THE FOLLOWING MORNING

10:37AM

STUFFING YOUR FACE with the hash browns Dina had gotten from the diner just down the street from your apartment, she spoke: "You saw Ellie, right?"

You hum in response, chewing your few, and swallowing it down, "Yeah. She gave me her number too." Dina's eyes narrow in interest. Sitting new to you on her brown two-seater, she slides herself closer to you. "Oh? And what happened after that?"

You squint your eyes at her, already knowing what she's suggesting.

"Jesus. Not like that. We talked, exchanged numbers, and said goodbye. That's it."

Dina rolls her eyes, taking the plate from your hands, and practically clutching it near her chest. "Yeah sure. I give it a few months and you guys'll be together."

Your eyes widen. You nudge her shoulder harshly, and when you do, the hash brown nearly falls to the floor—luckily, though, Dina held it more tightly just in time. "I'm just saying! She usually never..." you watch as Dina tries to finds the words, the laugh track from the show that plays on the tv is the only thing that seems to fill the silence before she speaks.

"She doesn't talk much. I thought she would tell you who she was, and that would be the end of it."

You think back on it now.

Ellie didn't seem to fit Dina's description. At least in your head. Part of finds yourself wondering what that Ellie is like. Though part of you wants to know more the Ellie you'd met last night.

You switch the topic. "What was that last night? Why'd you leave so suddenly?"

You watch as Dina looks over to you, the fork that you had once previously stabbed into the food, now flipping it over. "Jesse had flowers for me, he apologized." You could nearly roll your eyes at her statement, yet you only let out a half-hearted smile.

"Again?" You joke, though not really.

You expect Dina to at least get somewhat irritated with you. You'd assumed anyone would at a comment like that. Though, she only places the paper plate down on the wooden table in front of you both, and throws her arms over your shoulder.

"Yeah, whatever. Keep talking."

You shrug her off her of you, a smile curling on your lips slightly—you focus back onto the screen ahead, thinking back to Ellie's alluring smile, and the moment you do, you find yourself questioning why you're even thinking about her at all.

[yenniluvv]

Drew these lovely people omggg i can’t wait for season 3!!

[yenniluvv]

Kashimo sketch bc i’ve been having brain rot of him 🙂‍↕️

[yenniluvv]

JJK 271 spoilers under the cut!!

So, with the leaks out and the series (un)officially over, I wanted to offer an alternative (NOT optimistic, but accepting) perspective to how things ended...

...specifically with Gojo.

I am a Gojo lover. I am a tragedy enjoyer. And I believe that both the (implied) return of both Sukuna and Kenjaku and Gojo's shitty posthumous treatment by the rest of the cast boil down to the same themes that have defined Jujutsu Kaisen from the start.

Jujutsu Kaisen has a punitive narrative. When a character fails to honor their goals, retribution is swift and severe. Itadori failing, continuously, to guide people to proper deaths. Nanami failing to keep his juniors safe in Shibuya. Geto failing to follow through on his own ideology. Jujutsu Kaisen also has a circular narrative. Its characters' storylines are defined by the generational curses that haunt jujutsu society. Gojo and Geto were thrown at missions like grenades until Geto finally went off. Ten years later, kids are still being exploited for their talents. Itadori, for all rights and purposes, died in the juvenile detention facility. The Shibuya task force was like, at least 50% high schoolers. Nothing has changed, despite Gojo's dream of fostering strong and capable allies who will overturn the system.

Now, about that. Gojo stated his intentions multiple times throughout the manga. He wanted to break the cycle. But that panel showing Sukuna's finger? Not surprising at all. He failed to break the cycle. Why?

Because without concerted effort, there will be no true change.

That is the point of Jujutsu Kaisen. It always has been. We ended up right where we left off - with the looming threat of Sukuna in the form of a surviving finger - because no one made an active effort to step off the tracks; instead, everyone combined their forces to push back against the train. Sure, the train stopped - Sukuna was exorcized, mostly - but trains have engines, and when jujutsu society grows complacent, the old order will begin to creep back into place.

There's another way of saying this. We ended up right where we left off - with kids as cannon fodder - because Gojo failed to consider that he couldn't dismantle the system from within the system. And the worst part is, he figured it out, right before the end.

Too late, Gojo realized his plan of a peaceful coup would never come to fruition. He realized he would have to take tangible, violent action in order to have even a chance of guaranteeing his students' futures. But because he was too slow to realize this, the hammer dropped, he failed, and died. And now, his kids might get to live to see another day, but they live to see another mission, too. And another Sukuna finger, and another Kenjaku. No one's efforts were focused enough. Like Yuki said, they were treating symptoms, not causes.

What's interesting is that this 'concerted effort' clause can also explain Gojo's apparent insignificance to the surviving cast. After Geto left, he leaned into the role of the Strongest, because there was nothing left for him to be. He took missions. He automated Infinity. He only started teaching so that the next generation wouldn't be lonely - he mentioned nothing of how that revolution would impact himself, presumably because it was of no importance to him. He'd already given up on having the very thing he tried to build for his students.

You can, actually. You can ask a flower to understand you, but you would be insane to do it, because it won't, obviously. So why would you bother?

Gojo never bothered. He let his loss haunt him for the rest of his life and never tried to put it behind him (or if he did, he did a shitty job at it). Instead, he let it motivate him, guide his choices, hollow out his heart. And in his death, he reaped the consequences of refusing to reach out for companionship: by making himself into a weapon, rather than a person, he was used, rather than mourned.

(But even though he knew he would die in the fight against Sukuna, he still wanted Itadori to keep going, to have hopes and dreams! It would be better if the world no longer revolved around 'the Strongest,' because that way, no one would have to be alone! What a nice dream. What a shame he only fought 'til blood at the end - first the higher ups', then his own.)

It's not comfortable to look in from the outside knowing that, after all that sacrifice and loss, nearly nothing was gained. But imo, it's not the thematic reach some say it is.

Jujutsu Kaisen was never about curses. It was about consequences.

[yenniluvv]

missed me?

———

blue collared abby who cradles your waist lovingly when she steps into your shared apartment; tired from a long day graphing layouts for a soon to be built home, truck driving, and useless nagging from her co-workers. she still loves it all the same—but it can be, and still is, tiring.

both of your hands meet the kitchen counter as you lean into her embrace, taking this moment to relish the tranquility of abby’s touch and the simplicity of the quietness throughout your home.

she watches the way you set down your book and close your eyes. and she listens to the way a sigh of relief leaves your parted lips as you surrender to her warm touch. her head rests in the crook of your neck, a smile arises on your lips. “you missed me?” it was a teasing question, you knew this. she had been gone for eight hours, per usual. during those eight hours, you’d message her when you weren’t busy with the cognitives of work. she’d call you during her lunch break, listen to her talk about the comics she’d read, and how damning it was to be away from you.

“nope. not at all,” you tease back. she smiles, you hold your hands on top of your apartments kitchen counter, feeling as abby smiles on your shoulder. “oh yeah?” she leaves a trail of kisses across the skin of your neck, her hands tightening around your waist as she does. you smile.

“alright alright! get off me and take a shower. I’ll be joining you in a minute. I have to order takeout tonight.” her grip loosens only a little, but it’s just enough for you turn around and face her. strands of dirty blonde hair are left untucked, her braid once neat and tidy—now a roughed up and chaotic mess on her head. you pull a strand away from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear and smiling. she only smiles, unmoving as she watches the way the corners of your mouth jerk into a smile you so desperately try to fight off.

“I’m serious, abigail. get your ass in the shower so you can eat, and then relax.” she places a kiss on your temple abruptly, causing your eyes to widen, though she only smiles. letting go of you, she pulls her coat off and throws it over shoulder—her eyebrows furrow in surrender and amusement.

“I’m going. I’ll meet you there.”

———

I actually like this one. enjoy some fluff with abby anderson cuz I love her forever <3

[yenniluvv]

My awesome friends OC that i drew ^_^ @joannasprose

[yenniluvv]

reading jujutsu kaisen is such confusing experience because i am content and discontent at the same time, i am happy and displeased both together, i praise and degrade it for same story choices. it is the best and the worst experience of my life and i can never leave jjk, it is an age old curse that i can never escape.

[yenniluvv]

birds of a feather, we should stick together

[yenniluvv]

just don’t leave me alone, wondering where you are

CW: harassment, violence, a little bit of angst.

I’m sorry for not posting for like. five billion years :/ here’s some vi x reader angst/fluff because I’ve been thinking about her :p

———

You dragged your feet against the hot asphalt as though you were being held down by a large anchor.

The street of the underside had become crowded during this time, the bustling streets and the cities merchants hoping to get a grab of whatever you had in the pockets of your pants.

It had been seven years since then. Since Vander. Since Mylo and Claggor and Powder. Vi’s name had always brought bitterness on your tongue. Since the day she disappeared, you had never once spoken it out-loud. It plagued your mind like a festering and undying disease.

As you stride through the already crowded streets—your eyes find The Last Drop. Memories filled your mind like a flood. You remember days spent in the bar, speaking with Vandar and indulging in Powder’s unfinished.

Most importantly, you remember Vi. Nights where the two of you sat on the roof and she listened to you talk about your day. The same old story with the same old ending.

Pushing those memories far from your head, you turn the street corner nearest to the well-known brothel, a familiar face comes into view, making you unknowingly heave out an annoyed breath.

“How’re you doing, sweetheart?” His voice calls, one that fills your head with an irritation warranted light just for him. One of Silco’s guards, his arm resting against the brick of the alleyway, a smile displaying his teeth and gums.

“Sam,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest, putting your disinterest on display.

“Aw come on. Why the long face? You missed me that much?” His confidence is what stirs a smile on your lips. You can’t remember when he had first began to take an interest in you. Unfortunately, you wished you have have handled the days of being unknown with much more care.

Sam lifts himself from the wall, stepping closely towards you, and attempting to slightly graze the hair that hangs wildly out of place on your head. But before he has the chance though, you grab his wrist with as much force as you could muster up.

“Don’t touch me.” You say, venom laced in your words as his face once portraying a deep lust, now twisted into an agitated and offended expression.

He pulls himself out of your hands, his arms dangling at his side for only but a moment before he reels his right arm back, the palm of his hand meeting the skin of your cheek.

It stings. A harsh pain that you’ve felt a few times before. “I’ve been nothing but kind to you for months, and you’ve yet to give me what I want.” This time, you really do laugh. Is harassment really his judgement of kindness?

His brows furrow, anger tucked underneath. As he steps closer to grab your face, a figure pulls him back, throwing him off balance.

You can’t see their face. They don’t speak to you. Only harsh grunt from themself, and Sam, and the streets of the under-city are what clouds your senses.

Their fists meet his face unrelentingly. You hear him beg, pleading for the stranger to stop. You can’t see it, but you can hear it. Fist meeting bone with anger laced in the strangers knuckles.

You don’t say anything. No words escape the space between your lips as the stranger lets him go, and as he crawls away, limping frantically.

“Don’t come near her again.” That voice. So endearing yet harsh. Familiar yet distant.

As she turns to you, those light blue eyes creating heart ache and helplessness in you—you muster up the courage to speak.

“Vi?”

———

definitely planning on making this a little series! yes I know this is so obviously rushed but I really wanted to get something out because I’ve been gone for so long! but I promise the next part will most definitely be longer and well written <3

reread this and im cringing so hard omg

[yenniluvv]

Choso and Yuki!!!

Ugh i love them sm omg 🙁

[yenniluvv]

there's a reason why there's only one of you. there's a reason why you're different from your neighbors. be the true version of yourself so that the people looking for you, can find you. you're not an actor, and you're not here to entertain anybody. so accept who you are and remind yourself that you can not fail at being yourself. learning to love our qualities is much easier than spending our entire lives trying to change them. be kind to yourself. after all, it's all of our first times living.

take chances. make mistakes. because that is eventually how you grow

[yenniluvv]

happy birthday nobara! congrats on being freed from the curse of living ig 🥹🎂

[yenniluvv]

CURRENT WIP — BITE YOUR TONGUE

⋯ ⌘ ⋯

As weeks pass by, and you settle into your 'new', shitty apartment, you begin to wonder why things happen the way they do. What makes the vines of a garden long overgrown, pull and prick at your side.

Attending college in a new city hadn't been on your bucket list, nor had the feelings of adoration and love, for a girl whose name you've yet to learn—been marked on top of it, yearning.

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Hi ! I am honestly so excited to for you guys to read this! I will be cross posting this on AO3 and Wattpad, so look out for that if interested. :) This fanfic deals with a lot of triggering topics that may suitable of some people.

CONTENT WARNING — alcohol use, drug use, graphic depictions of emotional turmoil, violence, mentions of self-harm, etc. (All chapters containing triggering topics will be noted ahead for the readers sake).

I do not have a set time/date for when chapters will be posted, I am going with the flow and I try will try my best to inform you guys. :)

NOTE — this is a work of fiction, and I strive to base my characters off of personal experiences and things I have observed from people around me. The warnings listed above are not being romanticized, and are for the context of the story and your own enjoyment. I will try to make this as realistic as possible, please be patient with me.

A introduction to the story will only be posted in the upcoming days to Wattpad, so if you are interested in seeing profiles for the characters, go follow me @joannasprose :)

(the reader has no race, or facial features, I try to be as inclusive as possible. she will use she/her pronouns and is able-bodied). please ask any questions of your concern!

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A03 — joannasprose

WATTPAD — joannasprose

[yenniluvv]

would anyone be interested in a ellie williams fanfic—it would be a multi chapter thing full of fluff and angst :) please like/and or comment if interested! :3

[yenniluvv]

HAKARI AND KIRARA UGHH I LOVE THEM SMMM

I made this bc i can’t edit 💔

[yenniluvv]

Another animatic!! i drew this for fun so I don’t know if this is accurate because i’m not caught up in the manga >_<

Again criticism is welcomed!