#96 hour fast

[ici-bee]

So my 4 day fast turned into a 5 day fast 😁

And after 5 days my weight has gone from 282 down to 274.6 this is the lowest i have seen since before i had my son almost 2 years ago. This makes me want to just keep fasting cuz the refeed will make it go up 😓 but hopefully wont be too much and get right back on track, i will be breaking the fast this afternoon. Just 6 more hours to complete a full 5 days which is when i'll be breaking later today

[hannyoontify]

seventeen '97 line as things that have made my heart flutter

warnings | smidge of academic stress in hao's, jealousy [reader's end] in mingyu's, reader is light enough to be moved? in mingyu's, implications of alcohol consumption in dokyeoms (oh my god what happened to 'none :3'), dokyeom calls reader 'pretty'

notes | learned today that extremely fast and aggressive jazz stimulates my brain in a way i've never experienced before so i decided to make the best of it LMFAO

p.s. i recommend reading these as situationships/pre-relationships

95 line | 96 line | 97 line | maknae line

the8 - facetiming at 3 in the morning

“hao? are you asleep?”

you heard muffled shuffling on the other side of the line and minghao’s camera, which was turned on and was currently facing the ceiling, moved around until you saw his eyes peek over the edge of the screen.

“no, i was reading. how’s the homework coming along?” his voice was impossibly soft and soothing, like a gentle lullaby sung to an infant to lull it to sleep. the question made you groan loudly and you dragged a hand through your tired face.

“i hate this. i have two questions left.”

minghao hummed over the line. “mmm… you got this, i believe in you. do you want my help?”

you shook your head. “no, i know how to do it, it’s just…” you let out a strangled yell and wrapped your blanket closer around your body. “i just don’t want to do it.”

“hmm… poor baby. c’mon. you can do it. if there’s anyone who can do it, it’s you.” minghao’s gentle words seemed to reach into your ribcage and grab your heart, gently squeezing until you felt something warm and familiar crawling up your spine. you observed the way his eyes curved into crescent shaped moons when he smiled. the bright green frog headband on his head that made his jet black hair stick out in unnatural directions. 

“… you didn’t have to stay up with me, you know.” you mumbled. while you were thankful for minghao’s adamant attitude to stay on call with you until you finished your ap chemistry homework, even if it meant staying up until the most ungodly hours of the night, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt at the thought of him losing sleep because of you. 

“and leave you to crash out all on your own? what kind of friend would i be if i missed out on that?” minghao snorted on the other end of the line but when you gave no response, his voice softened. “you don’t need to worry about me, [name]. now get back to work, those FRQ’s aren’t going to solve themselves.”

when you warbled out another series of exasperated ‘don’t wanna’s’ and ‘i hate my life’s, minghao puffed over the line. “what do you want, [name].”

shifting your weight to rest your head on your desk, your eyes drifted to your phone propped up in the corner of your desk, where minghao’s screen remained facing the ceiling. there was an occasional crinkle on the other side of the line, where he was tossing and turning in his bed, no doubt. the blank, white canvas of his ceiling was the last thing you wanted to see right now.

“wanna see you, hao.” you mumbled. it was barely above a whisper and you doubted your crappy phone mic would’ve picked up the sound. but of course, it did.

you could almost hear the cocky smile in his voice as he spoke. “oh, i see how it is. you wanna see my face, huh?”

“shut up. forget i said anything.” pursing your lips, you pretended to turn back to your neglected ap chemistry homework so he wouldn’t see the way your face was beginning to flush.

minghao laughed loudly, clearly enjoying your pain and misery as you wallowed in your embarrassment. “it’s okay to ask for what you want, [name]. it’s natural.”

“whatever! shush, i’m trying to focus.” biting down on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, you tried your best to conceal the smile that was threatening to spill. minghao had that kind of effect on you. like an infectious disease that had your heart constantly racing, your palms sweaty, and your face a bright shade of red.

mingyu - grabbing the leg of your chair and pulling you closer towards his direction

mingyu was a force to be reckoned with. you recognized that the minute he introduced himself to you back in freshman year. the way he greeted you with a bright smile before turning around to greet all four other tables surrounding your shared table. before you knew it, the smiley boy had managed to befriend one entire side of the classroom, all within 15 minutes of class starting.

sure, he was easy on the eyes, but you knew it was more than that. it was the sparkle in his eye. the mischievous smile that seemed to announce that he was up to no good. it was the way he genuinely made an effort to connect and hear everything the other person had to say. he was a good person.

you, on the other hand, were not.

of course, mingyu would scoff and roll his eyes at that. he didn’t think you were a bad person, you were simply not as… friendly as he was. it wasn’t that you were rude, but you liked to keep to yourself. you liked to keep conversations, especially with people you were less than friends with, to a minimum. talking was exhausting, and making small talk was the absolute worst. silence was your best friend.

well, besides for mingyu.

or should you say ex-best friend. 

(you were joking. kinda.)

you silently huffed to yourself as mingyu flashed another friendly smile to the girl sitting across the aisle from him. his hands were busy enough, but it seemed to you that mingyu was too busy flirting with the girl to actually pay attention to the lab he was supposed to be doing. with you.

“gyu…” you called out quietly. “gyu…!” you called out again, a tad louder in volume.

mingyu whipped his head and smiled. “yeah?”

you felt a pang of guilt shoot through you at his innocent smile.

“we should get started on the lab.” waving the instruction sheet in your hand, you motioned to the microscope on the table before you.

“okay! one sec. lemme finish explaining this vanessa real quick and–“ mingyu faltered when he felt you gently tug on the sleeve of his lab coat. he looked at you with a confused look in his eyes, but his confusion soon changed into one of mischief once he recognized the slight scowl on your face. “ohhh, i see what it is. are you jealous right now?”

“no! as if…” you mumbled. “you’re supposed to be my lab partner, you know.”

mingyu let out a quiet chuckle and tousled your hair with his hand affectionately. “you’re cute.”

“shut up. i’m going to do the lab without you.”

with a dramatic sigh, mingyu leaned over, his face now inches away from yours. you could feel his hot breath on your cheek and it was like the world went momentarily still. there was a familiar tightening in your chest as your face began to warm. 

you felt a gentle tug beneath you, followed by a gentle rumble as mingyu dragged your chair closer to where he was. you thanked your lucky stars for mingyu’s baggy lab coat, or else, you were more than positive that you would’ve been able to see his muscles bulging through his shirt and god knows what that would do to you.

once mingyu felt satisfied with your seating arrangement, he leaned back in his chair with a proud smile. “there. shall we get started now?”

dokyeom - taking off your glasses when (he thinks) you’re asleep

you feel like dead weight. all four limbs attached to your body don’t feel like yours and you were 99% positive that soonyoung’s homemade fruit punch was laced with something, despite his claims of it being ‘family-friendly’. you groaned quietly. there was a pulsating headache slowly forming and you turned over onto your side, curling into a fetal position in an attempt to make yourself comfortable. 

to be honest, you weren’t entirely sure where you were. after having your social battery getting absolutely drained in a matter of 30 minutes at soonyoung’s halloween party, you stumbled upstairs and climbed into the first bed you saw. surely, soonyoung, or whoever this room belonged to, wouldn’t mind. 

the thud of the bass could be felt through the walls, which really wasn’t helping your case of what seemed to be a growing migraine. as you began to silently pray to any greater deity to stop the incoming migraine, you heard the door creak open slowly and you braced yourself to curse out whatever poor and innocent soul decided to walk in on you trying to take a nap. 

“[name]? are you in here?” the gentle and quiet words hung in the air, and you felt the air leave your lungs for a moment, suspending time.

it was seokmin.

your eyes remained shut but could hear him shuffling over to the side of bed where you remained in a fetal position. he held a cold hand against your forehead, sending a slight chill down your back. 

“no fever…” seokmin mumbled to himself. “[name]? are you awake?”

you really wished you could open your eyes and smile at the sweet boy who was in front of you, but you couldn’t muster the strength in your body to do anything. it was like you lost control of your body.

seokmin tsked under his breath as he muttered something about falling victim to soonyoung’s devil’s juice and something else about reporting to poison control. he reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his soft hand gently grazing your cheek as he did.

“here, let’s…” there was a gentle tug on the metal frames of your glasses that rested somewhat crookedly on your face, before it was pulled entirely. you heard two small clinks of metal as seokmin folded the arms and set down on the bedside table. “don’t want them to break again, do we?”

he chuckled gently, as if reminded by that one time you accidentally broke the frame of your favorite glasses after walking into a pole. you were deadly embarrassed, but seokmin thought it was the funniest thing in the world. 

there was a gentle dip at the edge of the mattress. you would estimate that it was a few inches away from your face and you tried your best to will your heart to steady itself.

“so pretty…” seokmin mumbled to himself. was he talking about you? oh, god. 

“i’ll let you sleep some more. good night, [name].” the mattress shifted again, followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. there were another pair of footsteps however, that you felt drawing near to your heart.

reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

[sluttyminghao]

Seventeen x Phone Sex

95 line - 96 line - 97 line - 98+99 line

♡ word count: 880 ♡ genre: smut - 18+ only ♡ a/n: and here's the 97 line version! only one more to go after this! thank u to my dear friends @svthub for helping brainstorm some ideas!

Seokmin: He definitely loves phone sex, that’s for sure but would lean towards being more submissive and wanting to please you rather than the other way around, given his nature when he’s not horny. I think he’d be pretty shy at first (and every other time after that), especially if you haven't done it very often, and would be scared to initiate anything with you, and even if he had a raging erection he would be too scared to say or do anything. However, once you’re both in the mood and things are underway, he wouldn't be able to hold back; he’d be moaning and whining and letting his hand work overtime on his red and angry cock while you’re talking and moaning with him. “Your voice is so pretty, baby, are you close to cumming all over that pretty chest of yours?” He would whine even louder when you humiliate him (I think he has a thing for being humiliated change my mind) and would cum so fast when you call him a slut or a whore. When he’s feeling more dominant, he enjoys edging himself while you moan and whine and he guides you through it. I don’t think he’d go far with humiliation or anything degrading with you, but more so would be into praising you, telling you how well you’re doing for him and would drag the begging out of you ever so slowly, making sure that you cum as hard as possible with your fingers or toys. As soon as you’re both done, he’s immediately helping you over the phone through your orgasm and making sure you clean up and have some water, as well as sending some food to you.

Mingyu: This man is not going to let you go easy at all, especially over the phone. You thought he was an energetic ball of energy when he was with you in bed, but it seems to multiply when he’s on the phone. When he’s this excited, it can only mean he’s going to cum extremely fast OR he will drag it out to the point where you’re both exhausted. He would be wanting to do everything and anything and going a million miles an hour in typical Mingyu fashion, so you eventually have to slow him down with calm words and praise (he loves praise). Whenever you praise him, it immediately goes to his cock and he has to refrain from immediately busting his load all over himself and his thighs, and even his phone. Honestly, it makes your ego grow exponentially just by saying a few words to him, even through the phone. He’s so easy to manipulate, especially when he’s feeling needy and submissive. “Mingyu baby, can you just focus on my voice for a bit? Just take it easy and pretend it’s my hand wrapped around your throbbing cock instead~” And immediately he would be putty in your hand, bending to your every word and hanging on every syllable. He seems like he’d be submissive, with the way he’s whining and pleading to cum, but he’s definitely got an ulterior motive; knowing that when he’s submissive is when you are the most vulnerable and he can play you like a doll. As soon as he thinks you’re at your peak, he shifts from the submissive facade he’s been upholding and switches to dominance, ordering you to cum on his count and then making you overstimulate yourself as well.

Minghao: I feel like Minghao isn't the type to be the biggest fan of phone sex, but if desperate times called for desperate measures, he would play into it for you. Sometimes he’s away for work and the spicy photos just aren't cutting it for either of you, no matter how sexy they are. He’d call and listen to your wants and desires and knows you’re probably already touching yourself given your breathy words and muffled moans, most likely being hidden into your pillow. Minghao is definitely the type to drag your orgasm out, make you work for it and then edge you until you’re sobbing into the phone, and he’d also be the type to want to video chat rather than just audio; he wants to be able to see you, guide you through it and see exactly when you’re about to fall apart so he can edge you some more. “You’re being so good for me, darling, why don’t you edge yourself a little more baby? I know you can do it” His soothing and low voice would only light the fire in your belly a little more, and immediately has you needing to cum. He’s observing you, watching as you slowly fall apart from his simple words and husky voice all the while his cock is twitching with want. He doesn't touch himself however, he’s too focused on you and watching you twitch and whine, especially so when he starts talking to you again. Minghao isn't one for overuse of praise or degradation but uses a good balance of both depending on both of your moods. As in typical Minghao fashion, he’s probably going to make you beg for your orgasm too, whispering his name and how badly you want to cum before falling apart in front of him.

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Equivalent Exchange (curse user! Nanami x sorcerer! Reader) SMUT, 18+, MDNI

Kento Nanami's defection was at one point amicable, until a string of very precise murders indicates your former classmate may have taken a turn. Maybe you can help him come back to himself. or....

Ao3 Obviously inspired by all the villain Nanami art esp (@yuutaguro and @ivoreene) this shit got wild ngl. So incredibly OOC its insane.

Content Warnings: ANGST, GUYS SO ANGSTY, lots of manipulation, this is NOT HEALTHY behavior, smoking, kissing, fingering, oral, degradation, slapping, spit, Nanami is being a freak, but you are matching that freak, let's call this deranged by consensual :).

Smoke curls in a paisley storm contained within the shaft of dim golden light emanating from the out of style lamp on the bedside table. A piece of wire had poked out from the lining of the seat cushion underneath you, poking itself into the tender meat of your thigh. The cigarette in between your fingers was nearly all ash, held together only due to your stillness, sloping downward toward the stained carpet below. It must have been ten minutes since you lit it, and you hadn’t moved an inch, not daring to break your gaze on the door. He was an hour and a half late, actually he was 96 minutes and 45 seconds late. 46, 47, 48, 49, 50. He was late the last time, too. Prior to-- everything-- he had been extremely punctual. He had been a lot of things. 

This morning he called out of the blue from a blocked number, his voice rough and betraying nothing of his condition; emotionally or physically. 

“Luna Hotel, under Helmer, 10 o’clock.” 

Your skin went cold, you choked out a small sound of acknowledgement, but before you could speak the line went dead. The line droned, tears stung your eyes; clouded vision and full ears gave you a moment of placelessness, your office, the school, this world dissolving around you. It was him, it was really happening. It had been so long since you had heard his voice, but you could have picked him out of a crowd of thousands if he were whispering.

 It was really happening, your throat tightened but you swallowed down the knot before it could choke you. With a deep breath the tears faded and you returned to your body within your small office at Jujutsu High. Finally setting the phone on its hook, the tone died, making the beating of your heart fill the space left in your ears. It was still early, you had an entire day of teaching to complete, and you couldn't let anyone-- even the most observant among your coworkers-- catch on. Twelve hours had passed in calculated normalcy, externally engaged as always; teaching your class, laughing with coworkers, but internally you had a singular thought. 

You were seeing Nanami tonight. 

Kento Nanami had defected from Jujutsu society eight years prior, following the previous defection of Suguru Geto and, more personally affecting, the death of his classmate and partner Yu Haibara. Initially it was an understood amicable defection, it was unusual but not unheard of for sorcerers to decide to follow other paths. Geto was, of course, an unfortunate exception. You had been able to keep in touch with Nanami as he attended a fast tracked university and got a job working as a finance specialist for businesses both in Japan and internationally. It wasn’t as though he wasn’t around at all anymore, he would attend group events every few months, stop by a birthday party or a night of drinking. But as the time since his leaving went on you saw less and less of him, work schedules and personal responsibilities making it rarer and rarer. Two years ago, he stopped calling completely, stopped responding to text messages and emails. You were beginning to wonder if you should do a wellness check at his office or see if you could find his address. 

That was until you found yourself in an all school meeting to discuss a recent string of murders. Shaking across the table from Satoru Gojo, Ieri Shoko, and the rest of the staff as Principle Yaga detailed how the victims were all cut with a surgeon's precision into various pieces, when Shoko was able to reassemble them the pattern emerged. The disassemblement occurred at a 7:3 ratio at Every. Single. Point. 

The pictures on the table were horrific, gory, visceral, but what brought bile to your throat was the thought of Nanami being the executioner. Your brain couldn't render the image of him killing a human person. You had seen him kill dozens of curses, seen his skill and finesse in real time, but you couldn’t piece that together with the images in front of you now. These men weren’t just killed, they were butchered. 

“What do we know about the victims?” Gojo asked. 

“Wealthy, mostly inherited wealth, all of them have ties to the same organized crime group that we have followed for some time.” Yaga explained, thankful for the chance to look somewhere else than the photographs on the table, “drugs, weapons, human trafficking, you name it.” 

Gojo shrugged and leaned back in his chair, “Nanamin always had an intense sense of justice.” 

He was right, you thought it too, and you were willing to be everyone else in the room thought the same. You still hadn’t spoken, your throat was dry and closed, your brain was too stuck on trying to piece together an image of the man you knew doing this. 

“He did. Vigilante or not…”Yaga continued, now unable to look anywhere but the pictures, “The higher ups have caught wind of this being a curse user, thankfully they don’t pay enough attention to techniques so they’re not exactly sure who is responsible.” 

Yaga stood and added a blurry photograph to the board. Nanami, you could just barely make out his features, his strong nose, his golden eyes. It must have been taken from a surveillance camera before the feed was wiped, he looked right at the camera, an expression of focus and hatred marred across his face. Your heart lurched at the sight of him so angry. No…not angry. Pained. 

“There are laws that prohibit sorcerers from intentionally taking human life. The unregulated use of jujutsu against civilians is cause enough to call for our response. Nevermind the…brutality. ”

Yours and every other pair of eyes in the room flicked to Gojo, he noticed, although he did not let on. You felt your cheeks burn, Nanami was Gojo’s friend, however reluctantly. Gojo had been closer with Geto than anyone else, and now he had been betrayed not once but twice.

“The sooner we…”Yaga’s words caught between his teeth, “react, the better. Reducing the liability of exposure and continued loss of life.”

The meaning he danced around began to set in. They wanted to kill Nanami. They wanted to send someone in this room out there to kill him. Gojo realized it too, starting to argue but his and the principal's voices began to fade, a ringing taking its place, and increasing in volume. Your skin began to go cold. The meeting continued around you, although as it turned to a fight no one seemed to notice your mental absence. You couldn’t let this happen, you wouldn't. 

That night you sent one last email to the last alleged work email of Nanami’s that you had been able to dig up. One that had been hiding his new company’s directory just waiting to be found by you. All it had taken was one call to their payroll department posing as the hysterical disgruntled wife possibly being cheated on by the project manager of Nanami’s team. You used an email of your own that you reserved primarily for spam, business sign ups and the like, one that didn’t have your name or any of your initials, one that no one would associate with you.  

Loyalty doesn’t expire. They’re looking. 

That was two months ago. Until his call today you didn’t know if the address was still active, if he had access to it, if he had ever seen it. But now, after a single call months later, you were in the Luna Hotel room 819 reserved under the name Helmer. Of course he chose that name, strange enough to stick out just the right amount, but anyone looking would find it as a fake, stolen from a famous play. They didn’t know how Nanami had gifted you a copy of Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’s House when you were still in school. How he told you about his grandmother in Denmark who loved it too; how she took him to see it once, probably far too young, on a holiday to visit her. They wouldn’t know what it meant between the two of you. You still had the exact copy he gave you, you must have poured over those pages a hundred times since you had seen him last. That same copy currently sat at the bottom of the small go bag you had stashed under the bed…just in case.

It was approaching midnight, and he still hadn’t arrived. Exhilaration that had been keeping you upright was beginning to wane. The light flickered, your cigarette ash finally fell to the floor, you didn’t care about the carpet, you didn't care about the sleep pulling at your eyes, you didn’t care about the ache of the day settling into your stagnant bones. You were so close, you couldn’t turn back now. 

You felt him before the knock came. The breath vacated your body, his cursed energy filling your senses, tears rushed to your eyes but were quickly cast aside as his knuckles tapped against the door. You stood, but didn’t move to the door. A chime came from the door lock, followed by the whirring of mechanized deadbolt retracting. You fought away the urge to tense up as he entered the room. 

Tall, perhaps even taller than before, certainly wider. He must have put on forty pounds of sheer muscle since the last time you saw him, every inch of him seemed developed. Wide shoulders, sturdy, quiet legs. His hair was shorter, choppier than the neat styled fringe you had been used to. A severe undercut at the back of his neck showed where he had been cut in a healed pink scar. There were more scratches and scars than you expected. You didn’t know what you expected. But it wasn’t this, this wall of strength standing before you now, dark blazer buttoned, small impression on his back where you knew his blade was strapped to his back. Finally you were able to regain the composure to look at his eyes. Golden, honey brown locked right with yours. It could have been the flickering light, or your delirium but you thought you saw them crinkle slightly at the sight of you. Nanami let out an even breath, looking you over once, the door clicking shut behind him.  

“It’s really you.” His voice washed over you like a warm coastal wave. 

“It’s really you.” You echoed, taking in the face you once knew so well, the parts that were different, the parts that remained. 

He stared down at you, the same analytical look on his face, taking in every inch of the woman you had become. You were different than when he had left, you changed your hair-- although so had he, your body had lost its teenaged gawkiness and you stood with so much more confidence than you had before. You filled your clothes better, you were maybe even taller. But your expression looking at him, the shine in your eyes, the flush in your cheeks, it was exactly the same 

“Part of me expected this to be a trap.” He sighed out, unbuttoning his blazer and starting to slide it down his arms, turning away from you briefly. 

As he did, you caught sight of his wrapped knife in its holster. The white and black wrapping was now stained a deep crimson, without your encouragement your mind returned to those photographs on the conference room table. What he had done, and how. How skilled he really was with that blade. You closed your eyes briefly attempting to squeeze out the images. When you opened them you saw him studying you, a silent assessment taking place that you weren’t sure if you were passing. 

“No one else knows where you are?” He asked, voice even and deep. 

“No. I know how to be discreet.” You answered, a bit too quickly. 

“Did you drive?”

You shook your head, “I took the train, paid cash, got off two stops before the closest, walked the rest of the way.” 

“It’s dangerous to walk alone at night.” he chided, tone almost mocking you-- or maybe himself, “Your phone?”

“I turned it off before I left, removed the SIM card, you can check it if you like.” you offered, gesturing to your purse on the table next to him. 

Nanami’s eyebrows raised cautiously, deciding to call your bluff and reach inside. You didn't even flinch, you had nothing to hide, only something to prove. You were mesmerized by his every twitch, the way his hair moved with him now, how his eyes scanned over everything meticulously. Shadows of the Nanami you knew and the Nanami that was captured on those cameras merging together. He pulled your cell phone from your bag, seeing it was switched off, he checked the side for the SIM card and saw it was missing. A small smile itched the edges of his mouth. 

“Nanami I promise, you can trust me. I sent for you, I put my job, my life on the line just to be here.” You wished you didn't sound quite as pathetic as you did when you asked him to trust you. 

Nanami set your phone back in your purse and faced you, “That’s right, you did.”

His face remained pleasant as he took a seat in the same armchair you had occupied. He took up so much more space now, broad and wide, thick and sturdy, his thighs strained the fabric of his pants as he settled in front of you. 

“Take your shirt off.” 

You felt your chest heat up, inching toward your cheek by the millisecond, you shifted your weight. 

“Wh-what?”, you nearly laughed, taken aback,. 

“I need to see that you don't have a bug or a wire or something else.” He leaned back in the chair, one elbow propped up on the arm rest. 

“Kento, I-I wouldn't.” You wanted him to believe you, you wanted him to know that you would never turn him in or put him in danger like that. 

Nanami cocked his head, “You trust me too, right?” 

You nodded. He gestured for you to continue. 

You had changed after work into something neutral, something that would let you blend in and not be noticed as you snuck here. You unbutton your shirt slowly, hand trembling slightly before you swallow and get them back under your control. When you had undone the final button and opened the lapels, revealing your body clad in only your black bra and slid the rest of the shirt down your shoulders and onto the floor. You stood in front of him, feigning your own neutrality, however futile after your previous hesitation. 

“Turn” he instructed. And you did, slowly so he could see your sides and back clearly. 

Nanami gave a hum of approval as you turned away from him completely. You didn’t hear his approach but you felt his body heat as he moved behind you. 

“No weapons?” He spoke softly now, his breath hot against the back of your ear. 

You shook your head. 

“No…”He sounded pleased, “they wouldn’t send you to kill me, would they?” 

You felt his hand on your hip, just ghosting over the surface of your skin. You wanted to melt into him, to weep in his arms, to succumb to every fantasy you held privately in his absence, to berate him for leaving, to beg him to stay. But you stayed still and let his fingers on your flushing skin be enough for now. 

“You’ve always had a soft spot for me, huh?” His hand moved your chin to the side to meet his eyes, nearly black like the eyes of a shark, only a corona of his usual honey brown remaining. 

You nodded, your lips subconsciously reaching for his. 

“So who are they sending?”, His voice returned to the dark, unflappable tone from before.

“Yaga wants Gojo to do it.” the words left you before you even thought, whatever spell or curse or hypnosis you were under sucking the truth from you directly into his mouth.  

Nanami paused for a second, studying your face in his hand, “I’m flattered.” 

Nanami let you go, his eyes flicking down to your lips before truly letting you go. He moved back to the table and opened your cigarettes. You caught your breath and followed his arc with your eyes, unsure of whether you should redress or not. He took a dart from your pack and lit it between his lips quickly. 

“I thought you didn’t smoke anymore.” You noticed his practiced hold, the easy way he inhaled. 

“So did I.” He sighed, sitting back in the chair, “A lot of things I thought were true and proving to have been ....unreliable.” 

You stepped closer, just barely, “Nanami, what happened. I thought you were happy to be out, what was so awful to make you come back… like this?”

Nanami thought for a second, his brow furrowed, the deep elevens on his face that had been present since childhood now much deeper. He took another drag of the cigarette before answering. 

“You don't know these guys….their monsters. All of them.” He shook his head, eyes fixed on memories that were not visible to you, “They want only for themselves no matter the cost, they betray one another, they betray order and decency. And the things they expect from you to join their little ...club” he took another fevered drag, stopping the thought there, “And we, those who can actually do something about it, are forced to benevolently observe? I just don’t understand the point anymore.”

You approached him carefully, he was locked into his own head enough that he wasn’t watching you. 

“I won't protect some and not others. Not on the basis of the humanity of evil. Curse or Human, evil has no place. Not while sorcerers sacrifice themselves left and right while the real dangers are out of our jurisdiction” Whatever atrocity had been replaying in front of his eyes concluded and he finished what remained of the cigarette. 

Sorcerers, Ours, We 

You weren’t sure if he realized it himself, but he was still including himself amongst you. He considered himself a sorcerer even now, upholding the responsibility to protect those who cant protect themselves. You took the filter from him and discarded it on the table, feeling bold enough to reach over him to do so. Still topless you leaned into him on your return. 

“I think it’s noble what you did, Kento.” You confessed, “We shouldn’t have to sit by and do nothing when we can make a real difference. Not when you can.” 

You felt one of his big hands move over the back of your neck, hard enough to keep you in place but affectionately enough to not jar you. What do you have to be worried about? It’s Nanami, he would never hurt you. 

“That’s why you’re here, you want to help, right?” he nodded in time with you in response. 

“Anything Nanami, anything.” You dared to touch the side of his face, feeling his soft even skin. Even now, he was as perfect as he had been in your memories. 

He leaned into your touch, like a wild animal indulging in the first kind touch after unending isolation. He was beginning to believe you, in your devotion, in your loyalty, in your usefulness. 

“Anything?” He hummed at you, pulling your face even closer.  

“Yes.” You could feel his breath on your lips, you could see the freckles on his face, having multiplied in number since last you studied them. 

“Then you have to derail the plans for my execution.” He held you still, no longer inching toward your eager lips. 

You felt your eyes go wider than dinner plates. 

“Lose documentation, mix up data, get rid of photos, anything.” His tone was deadly serious, his grip tightened on your neck, his eyes bore into yours looking for any kind of hesitation, “No one has access to more information in that place than you. I know you can do this.”

Your heart swelled at his assurance, saiting your own fear as it rose inside of you. You looked into his kind, patient face and felt all the apprehension slip away. You finally feel secure enough to ask him the one thing you want the most. 

“Can’t I go with you?” You pleaded, wanting nothing more than to never be parted from him again. 

He shook his head slowly, cupping your face so sweetly., “It’s too dangerous. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you, honey.” 

You warm at the title he’s awarded you, his demonstration of care for you. Your joy soars exponentially when he pulls you into his lap, one arm around your waist, the other keeping your gaze locked with his. His thumb strokes your cheek and you feel your cheek whetted by an unannounced tear that has left you. 

“Kento…”You shudder, “why did you leave me. I would have gone with you, you never asked. I thought-- I thought we… had something. I thought you wanted me.” 

“Oh love, I did. I do. I lost myself after Yu, I had to leave, I couldn’t control my anger and I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want you to see me like that. I wasn’t a man worth loving, especially not by you.” 

“Kento…”

“But I’m here now. And I’m yours.” He looked at you with the same seriousness as when he gave you your instructions, “do this for me and I’m yours forever. Help me keep this world safe, keep you safe.” 

You felt another heavy hot tear spill onto your cheek, “I’ve loved you since the day I met you, Kento. Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t leave me again.” 

“Never again.”  He promised before pulling you in to kiss you. 

His kiss was worth every second you spent away from him. Every sleepless night wondering if your budding romance was gone completely or if you could ever know the warmth of his companionship again. He pulled you even closer to him, now seating you perfectly in his big, wide lap. His hand slid up your back, hot against your skin. His tongue slipped between your lips perfectly to explore the inside of your mouth, sliding against your own, tasting the smoke that lingered inside. You couldn’t help the moan that resounded from your throat, you were too overjoyed. You wanted to indulge in every taste, every sensation, every sound, every inch of this man. Your hands were all over his chest, his neck, his shoulders, his arms, feeling the change in the man you loved. He was the same, his heart, his mind, his bones were the man you always loved, but you relished in the feeling of new, taut muscle under your fingers.  

“I love you.” you confessed against his lips. 

“I love you.” He answered, pulling you in again for another deep, wet kiss.

He tangled his other hand in your hair, the other migrating from your face to grip your thigh draped across his lap. His grip on your leg was firm and sturdy, squeezing the muscle and flesh you had gained since your last encounter with him. 

“You’re a better kisser now.” You challenged, leaning your forehead against his.  

“You taught me well, I improved on your method.” He smiled up at you. 

It had been nearly a decade since the last, first, and only kiss you and Nanami had shared. A night of teenaged drunkenness in the dorm rooms and a fateful game of seven minutes in heaven leading to you and Nanami squeezed together in Gojo’s dorm closet. The darkness made Nanami bold enough to confide that he had never kissed anyone before, and you bold enough to jump at the chance to “teach him”, despite privately never kissing anyone yourself either. The timer had run out all too soon and Gojo pulled the curtain early, revealing a heated, albeit sloppy, makeout to your group of classmates. In your years schooling and working together you had never spoken about it, at least not so brazenly. Time and loss and reunion will bring anything to light. 

“I was lying. I hadn’t kissed anyone either. I just wanted to kiss you.” You simpered against his lips, feeling the hand on your leg move up closer to your ass. 

“You're kidding.” Nanami said flatly, kissing you again. 

Your cheeks heated, “You knew?” 

Nanami shrugged, smiling slyly, “Took a few other kisses before I pieced together that you had no idea what you were doing.”

You laughed out, feeling decade old embarrassment rise in you. 

“Hey,” He soothed, “Who do you think begged Haibara to suggest the game and pick us to go first.” 

You gawked, “You didn't.”

He nodded, “I did. Quite embarrassingly so. I don't think Gojo ever let a day go by that he didn't remind me of it.”

You were touched, elated, so devastated on behalf of the time you lost, but so grateful for the time you could have now. You pressed your lips together again, hands finding purchase in his hair, feeling the crop under your nails. He kissed you with a new fervor, remembering the growing romance he had abandoned, the way you had made him feel all those years ago. His hands moved up your back and found the clasp of your bra, with no words exchanged he undid the hooks and you moved your arms so he could slide the garment off of you. Once you were free you brought your hands to the button of his shirt, eyes closed and too entranced by the kiss to notice the spots of blood that stained the cream colored fabric. He pawed at the exposed skin of your back, down the dip of your spine, over your hips, and up once more to the back of your neck. He pulled back hard, separating your lips. 

“Let me see you.” He ordered, taking in your exposed chest. 

You whined at the loss of his lips, but relished in how closely he studied your body, your breasts, your stomach, your hardening nipples, everything he had longed to see before but was too guarded to ask of you. The hand didn't leave your neck, in fact it slithered around to the front, holding you in place on top of him. You had managed to undo his buttons, revealing his own chest, rippling and creamy in the amber light of the hotel room. You ground yourself down on his lap, desperate to feel his hardness underneath you. 

“No.” He tightened his grip around your throat, stilling you, “Be patient, I've waited years to have you like this, I won't be rushed.”

You nodded as best you could with your throat still in his grasp. 

“Be good.” He warns, bringing you back to his mouth, guided by your neck.

You wait for him to kiss you, wanting to demonstrate how good you can be for him. He leers at your obedience, before sliding his tongue across your lips. Not exactly a kiss, but you accept it so eagerly, the feeling of his spit wetting your lips, the anticipation whetting your desire. It's so possessive, so absurdly erotic it is nearly demeaning. But why should you care, it’s Nanami, your Nanami, you want to be possessed by him. Finally he kisses you again, your and his face both damp. His hand leaves your neck and slides down to grip one of your breasts, rolling your nipple between his finger and thumb, making you hiss.

“Sensitive.” He mumbles, pinching harder, pulling a whine from you. 

Heat is pooling in between your legs, you're certain he can feel the effect he is having on you, it would be dripping onto his thigh at this very moment if it weren't for the layers of fabric between your bodies. He grips your other breast, repeating the stimulation to your other nipple, once again relishing in the whines and whimpers you sing above him. You close your eyes and throw your head back, not seeing when he leans forward and latches his mouth to your unoccupied nipple, soothing the pain with soft, generous suckling. His other hand has curled itself around your hips and gripped unabashedly at your ass. Your hands returned to his hair, wanting to feel as much of him as possible. And feel him you did, his hardened length making itself unmistakable under you and Nanami rocked your hips forward, grinding you down on him. He let out choppy, moans into the flesh of your tit, his mouth full and muffled. You saw stars as the sensation of being ground down on his clothed length electrified your swollen clitoris. You had heard saucy gossip from classmates turned coworkers about Nanami “packing”, but you could feel their accuracy as he directed you to writhe against him.

“K-ken..ah!” You huffed out as the bulge pressed right against where you desired him the most. 

He filled his mouth with your other tit and pushed you further down on him, making you keen above him louder. He was so much stronger than you, you couldn't pry yourself off his lap if you had wanted to. Thankfully there was nothing in the world you wanted less. He carried on sucking, biting, circling your breast with his mouth, bringing you to writhing, whimpering putty in his hands. You felt as though you were melting above him. The heat between your bodies building, scrambling your brain into nothing but more..more….more. 

“Fine.” He growled, pulling away from your chest and picking you up to toss, truly toss, you onto the bed. 

The cheap mattress bounced under you as you struggled to sit up on your elbows, only to be met with a firm hand clapping down on your chest, pushing you onto your back once more. 

“Desperate slut can’t even wait for it.” Nanami glared down at you, fire behind his eyes you had never seen before. 

He shed his shirt completely, not shy to give you a show of the muscles and scars he had gained in your separation. Bruised fresh and barely healing splotched across his stomach and hips, what looked like amature, although clean and neat, stitching, keeping a cut on his back together. Your breath stayed heavy as you watched him undress, you didn’t dare move another inch. He removed his pants, groaning as his length that had been straining against the tailored fabric gained relief. Your mouth filling with hungry saliva as you watched him supine on the bed, how he selfishly palmed himself through the thin fabric of his boxers before finally turning his gaze back to you. Your heart caught in your chest at his stony gaze, the annoyed expression between his eyes, the way his jaw set itself as he appraised your position. 

“You said you’d be good. That you’d do anything to help me. And yet here you are on your back panting like a whore after ignoring the first instruction I gave you.” The bed sank as Nanami moved one knee onto the edge. 

You stayed silent and still as his hands undid the clasp of your pants, inching them down your legs at his own pace, noting how goosebumps appeared in the wake of his touch. He watched as you strained to stay still, only allowing your body to move as he moved it, only allowing yourself to be puppeteered out of your clothing by his hands. A sick pride filled his chest at the sight of your heaving chest, still shining wet from his mouth, your hair mussed by the bed sheets, eyes wide and watching him. Your panties were already sticking to your dripping pussy, the wetness seeping through the flimsy fabric and leaking onto your thighs. Nanami joined you on the bed completely, hovering over you, sliding his index finger up from your knee. He met your eyes again, a taunting tilt to his head. 

“Is this what you imagined?” Nanami’s breath ghosted over your lips. 

You weren’t sure how to respond, when you had first imagined what your first time with Nanami was going to be, you never imagined this set of circumstances. You imagined sharing firsts, learning the motions of expressing love physically, you imagined him making you feel wanted, just as you wanted him. Now he was a Wanted man, and you were jeopardizing everything by lying under him, by letting him touch you, by begging him to take you, to make you his. Your silence was answer enough for him, he traced your slit with his finger, it took every ounce of strength you had left to not shiver, to not whine and mewl and beg again. He noticed. 

“Good.” He once again leaned down to kiss you, his tongue quick to invade your mouth, to pull you back into his spell of thoughtless depravity. 

His finger slipped past the gusset of your panties, feeling the sopping origins of the liquid desire spilling onto the sheets. You couldn’t hide the shaky breath that escaped as he penetrated you. His fingers were long and knuckles, just the one seeming to fill more of you than a single digit ever should. He watched your eyebrows scrunch, your eyes flutter, and your mouth fall open. He can see the backs of your teeth, the big buds along the base of your tongue, he finds himself enveloped in the idea of prodding the back of your throat with the tip of his cock, with his fingers, with your fingers, he finds he has all kinds of strange fantasies these days. You clenching around his finger wakes him from his daze, and he's quick to supply you with another, feeling your spongy walls stretch around him, trying their hardest to accommodate his intrusion. 

“mmgph..”You whimpered, rolling your head to the side, not willing to look at him as he began pumping his fingers. 

Nanami looped his other arm around your head, bringing you up to kiss the column of your throat, feeling the muscles strain and flex in response to the pleasure he is so generous to give you. You tried to bury your face in his shoulder, but he held you down firmer. He added a third finger, curling them right against your g spot. You couldn't help but cry out. 

“Agh! Fuck…fuck.”

Nanami growled against your neck, keeping his pumping hand steady. The sloshing sound of your pussy drenching his hand and wrist fought to stay audible as your moans threatened to drown them out. You felt his teeth, first scratching, then biting into your neck. You weren’t going to last, you could feel the avalanche of pleasure bounding toward you, you were going to be lost, smothered, destroyed by the wave. Your body moved on its own, smacking at his chest before curling upward in an attempt to save yourself. The hand around your head pulled you down to the bed as he pumped harder. Fucking you gast on his fingers. 

“No. Take it.” He commanded, watching you struggle under his hold, fighting him, he dug his nails into your arm, “Take it.”

Your vision went white, blocking out the lamp light, the room itself, as you squeaked out in pleasure. Your abdomen shuddered, your legs kicked, you strained against him, panting and whining. He carried on through your orgasm, not letting up until he saw fat, hot tears spill from your eyes. He kept his fingers inside as you came down, watching as you reinhabited your body that for a moment belonged entirely to him. He waited for you to open your eyes, he had always been a patient man. When you finally looked up at him with your love drunk stare, he removed his fingers, privately relishing in the squelch.

“Open.” He ordered, and you obeyed. 

He filled your mouth with his fingers, the taste of your cum all encompassing. His mouth drops open as he watches you suck his fingers, he experiments with you; testing how far you’ll let him push, touching the gummy flesh at the back of your throat, mentally marking how little you gag. Good girl. 

He's so overcome with pride and love, or something close to it, that when he removes his fingers he is desperate himself to bring you into another deep kiss. He feels your body tremble against him, aftershocks racing through you, your hands grip at his body, begging for more, begging to be closer. Nanami can't help but groan as you touch his clothed cock, his tongue still touching yours, the taste of your orgasm and the sound of his pleasure shared between two open, waiting mouths. You trace his length through his boxers, his own hand comes over your own and guides you over the totality of him, tip to base, the warm balls underneath, the spot of wetness at the top where he has leaked despite himself. You look up at him, eagerly awaiting his instructions. He smiles down at you, almost sweetly. 

“Sweet girl.” He coos, seeing the joy bloom in your face, “You just want to be good, don't you?” 

You begin to nod but are cut off by a hard slap coming down on your cheek. No time to dwell on the sting before he grips your face, pursing your lips. The shock of the smack bounces up and down your spine before you realize the pulse throbbing between your legs once more. He squeezes his cock through your hand, letting you feel the same pulse in himself. 

“You’ll do anything for me, won't you?” Nanami’s keen eyes train on you once more, opening his mouth slightly inches above yours. 

You think he is going to kiss you again, but he squeezes your face more, your lips separating in a bizarre pout. He spits directly into your mouth. You’re quick to lap at his offering, savoring it briefly before swallowing it. You feel his cock jump against your hand, he groans at the wanton sight, he's beyond pleased, he is elated. Before you finish savoring the remnants of him in your mouth he has you on your back once again. He rids himself of his underwear out of your sight and positions himself between your legs. He lifts your hips up and holds you level with his pelvis, wrapping your legs around his hips. The shaft of his cock slides in between your lower lips, he coats himself in the melange of your previous orgasm’s release and the new wetness he has pulled from you. Deciding it isn't enough he spits again, this time on your twitching cunt. Nanami marvels at how beautiful he finds the sight of his spit on your body, you wet at his behest, at how beautiful you are under him, your eyes trained on him, waiting so patiently. With one perfect stroke he fills you totally, your hands grip helplessly at his forearms. You arch your back with a whine as you feel the girth of his cock split you open, he is quick to find a pace, his hungered hands taking their fill of your hips and thighs as he fucks himself further into you. His bruising, soldier’s grip nearing fractal pressure, you pull at his fingers, trying to ease his grip on you, offer your body some grace. But he grips tighter, thrusts deeper, the tip of his cock pressing against your cervix, his heavy balls smacking against your ass. Your cries fill the room, as does the plap plap plap-ing of his hips hitting yours with devastating precision. 

“Kento…oh fuck…i-its too much, too much!” You writhe, pulling at his titanium strong fingers at your hips. 

“Too much?” He mocks, his hips not missing a beat, “Too much?” 

You sigh in relief when one of his hands leaves your hip, the bruised spots settling. You jolt as that same hand comes down hard on your clit, making you scream, “Nana--Agh!” 

He repeats the assault twice more, letting your screams fill the room before clapping the now slick soaked hand over your mouth. He thrusts himself completely inside, leering over you cruelly as you mewl at being overfilled.  

“Don’t yell my fucking name. What if someone heard you?” 

He’s so deep it feels like he could push out through your stomach, you are barely able to mutter out a small, “‘m sorry.”

It sounds so pathetic you’re almost grateful it's barely audible behind his hand. He keeps his hand over your mouth as he starts thrusting once again, not able to withstand the temptation of your walls hugging him so tightly, you’re so warm, you’re so wet, and you’re all his. He can have you all to himself, the thought alone almost makes him cum. But when he looks down at your fucked out, sweat and spit dampended face, he holds strong. He wants to give you this, he wants to give both of you this. Remind himself that even a murderer like him can find moments of bliss. So perfect, so ready to help him, so eager to prove yourself to please. If things were different he could see this being his eternity, loving you, being loved by you, a life together. But it was too late for that now, he couldn’t go back. He could never get that future back. 

Nanami releases your mouth, his hands instead moving your legs up and over his shoulders, angling his hips deep and deeper, folding your body into a nasty mating press.Your mouth falls open, he’s reaching points even deeper than before, you can hardly stand it, your hands claw at his shoulders. When you are finally able to see after this transition, you open your eyes to find him looking directly at you, gazing in your eyes, fucking himself into you at the sight before him. His body rocks yours, you move as he instructs, leading you from within to match his thrusts. Finally his resolve starts to crack. 

“F-fuck..” He gasps out, his face scrunching, sweaty strands of blonde hair falling from his forehead. 

You can feel him twitching inside of you, it’s as though he is swelling inside of you as he nears his end. You reach up to his hair, tugging, urging him to kiss you. He complies, connecting your lips and rutting into you wildly. The hot, fevered kiss is scored by his moans, gracing your ears, better than your most indulgent fantasies could conjure. For the moments before his climax, there was nothing but the two of you. His body shielding you from the rest of the room, his arms held your legs, the smell of your combined sex filled your nose, the sound of his body on yours, the grunts into your mouth, his sweat on your body, the taste of his tongue against yours. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed. 

With a low howl Nanami spilled himself into you, driving his hips forward, pulling your hip up to meet his thrust. He thrusts once more, the pair of you grunting together. You can feel the twitch of rope after rope of hot cum filling you, painting you from the inside. He buries his head in your neck, not willing to let you out of your folded position. When he finally releases you it’s only for a second so he can move your legs from your ears. He pulls out briefly, moving onto his back, collecting his breath. You wiggle briefly, stretching sore, twisted muscles but don’t get too far before Nanami pulls you onto his chest. You press your lips to the junction of his neck and shoulder, his arms wrap around your back, his knuckles grazing your spine. 

The hum of the air conditioner, the buzzing of the bedside lamp, and the pattering of rain against the window fill the silence left behind by your moans. You could hear the drumming of his heart, the leveling back of its usual tempo. His hand stills on your back,

“There’s no one else in the world I can trust, you understand?” His voice is warm in his chest under your ear. 

You nod, “I know.” 

He tips your face up to look at him, “Stay with me tonight?” 

Your heart nearly bursts, “yes! Yes.”

He smiles and kisses you, holding your face, holding you to his chest. It wasn’t an hour or more before you had fallen asleep soundly on him, the weight of the day pulling you into sleep before you were ready. Before you fully succumbed to the sandman’s curse, you thought you heard the words I love you leave him. 

You didn’t feel the weight of the bed shift when he got up a few hours later. You didn’t hear him redress and gather his things. You didn’t hear him reach into your purse and pocket your SIM card. You didn’t hear the door click shut as he left before the sun was set in the sky. You woke up in the hotel bed alone, the indention on his pillow and the ache between your legs the only immediate evidence he had ever been there. Your throat tightened as you smelled the sheets next to you, the fabric just barely holding a trace of his scent. Immediately the phantom memories of his hands on your body, his assurances, his instructions flooded back to you. It wasn’t until you got up completely that you saw the finger shaped bruises on your hip and the note in his neat, familiar handwriting. 

I’ll be in touch. Forgive me. 

Your chest tightened, your eyes stung, but you swallowed down your emotion. You had a promise to keep.

NANAMI IM SORRY I KNOW YOURE NOT THIS MAN. I DONT KNOW WHY ANYONE WOULD SAY THAT ABOUT YOU. Well i hope you guys liked my freak shit! I also wrote about half of an epilogue to this last night that i think clears up some of the context and the tone. I'll post that in the next few days as well. Its mostly with Gojo. OKAY LOVE YOU GUYS THANK YOU FOR READING. --- Doodle <3

[justaragdollysblog]

The Sauce That Makes You Stupid

wanted to do a fic about a concept i’ve seen a few people talking about! this fic will contain mentions of drugs and dependencies

if you ever need assistance w something like this or someone to talk to, (800) -222-122 is a hotline! pls stay safe <33

TW: Drug Dependency, Anxiety, Mentions of tripping, Hurt/comfort

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4 days, 96 hours, 30 minutes and 20 seconds.

That’s how long it’s been since the fast food adventure.

That’s how long since Ragatha got the sauce in her eye. How long since she rubbed it in.

She hadn’t been able to relax since.

Sure, relaxation was hardly common in the circus anyways. There was always a slight urgency and alertness, even in the late hours of the night. No one really truly was safe.

But, after the effects wore off, Ragatha told herself it was a one time thing. No big deal. She’d move on, and the whole experience would fade to the back of her mind like all the rest of them.

Then why couldn’t she stop thinking about the sauce?

She was currently in her coquette bedroom, fiddling with her red yarn locks. Her foot was tapping against the floor quietly. She needed to stay moving; but she had no idea why.

Her mind drifted as she recalled the adventure. It was all hazy after that mannequin demanded the burger. The sauce. The sauce that makes you stupid. The sauce that makes you feel like you’re made of electricity when it’s gone.

Ragatha’s eye then drifted to her closet. Truthfully, it wasn’t gone. She had smuggled a bottle in, opting to explain it as ‘horseradish sauce’ to Caine. He didn’t see a problem with it.

She eyed the handle. No, she couldn’t think like that. There was no way she’d look at the stuff again. She was mean to her friends and basically useless on it.

No way. Nope.

Ragatha moved before her mind could catch up with her. She walked over to her closet, and opened the doors. Behind a few dresses sits the bottle.

Just a little, then she’d be done. Just a little bit and she’d never do it again. She shakily reached out for the bottle, holding it as she stared at it.

She raised the bottle over her head, aiming for her eye. She was about to apply pressure, when-

“Ragatha!”

She yelped in surprise and scrambled to try and hide the sauce. The voice belonged to Pomni, who was standing in the doorway with a nervous and concerned expression.

“Pomni! What a surprise! What are you doing here?” Ragatha spoke a little too quickly and a little too frantically. Some of her red yarn hair was sticking out in places.

Pomni eyed her worriedly. “Um, the theme’s about to start. Have you…slept at all?” She asked, uncomfortably shifting her position.

Ragatha blinked. It was already theme time? “Oh, I’m fine! Right as rain, Poms. Just didn’t sleep, you know how it is here!” She forced a smile.

Pomni didn’t miss how her hands seemed to grasp on to anything to fidget, and how her closet door was open. “Right…uh, why’s your closet open?”

Ragatha internally cursed herself for not closing it. “Oh! Just…getting ready for the day. Hard to get prepared without proper clothes!”

Pomni shakily nodded. She knew something had to be up. Ragatha was never this frantic and skittish. However, she surmised, it wouldn’t be solved right now. The gang was waiting and the theme wouldn’t complete without them.

“Well, I guess we better head out to the stage. Maybe we can try to hang out later after the adventure!” She suggested, managing a hopeful smile.

Ragatha hesitated, eyes darting to the closet and back quickly. She could feel something terrifying stitch itself in her threads. Something horrid.

She shook her head, dispelling the thoughts. “Yeah, let’s go.”

She headed out with her, closing the door behind them. She’d be okay. She didn’t even really need it.

She just had to wait until the evening.

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Hi guys! I wanted to try and tackle a different subject matter in this fic! i hope i did an okay job :)))

pls don’t hesitate to reach out if you’re struggling!

reblogs are appreciated! see you guys next time!

[princessozera]

so, random thought, there's a good chance the demon bros inadvertently harmed mc in some capacity just because human and demon limits are so vastly different, and the main human any have had contact with is Solomon, whose humanity is somewhat debatable. mc might act like they're invincible, but they are human in the end, and human durability is largely that we can keep going after almost any injury, not that we don't get injured

like Lucifer strings them up as he would his brothers, forgetting (assume he's really tired or stressed or whatever) that doing so puts a lot of pressure on the body and can cause actual damage instead of just being annoying like it is to his brothers. depending on how exactly he ties them up it'd change the effects but it's never gonna be great for them

Mammon running away from shenanigans with them and he tugs on their hand a bit too hard and fast to get them safely around a corner and dislocates their shoulder in the process because force = mass x speed and Mammon is a speedy boy. or he's running from Lucifer and slams into them at top speed, and if they can't protect their head from the wall/floor you know Mams is freaking out because mc is all out of it and there's so much blood and he doesn't care how Lucifer punishes him as long as he makes sure mc is alright

otaku Levi with his nonexistent sleep schedule doesn't realise just how badly sleep deprivation affects humans. paranoia, weakened immune system, depersonalisation, all the way to sleep deprivation psychosis. you go 96 hours or 4 days without sleep and lemme tell you, you ain't properly attached to reality anymore. been there, done that, would not recommend. there were bugs crawling all over my arms and legs and shadow people whispering. fucking sucked, and I was constantly shaking so I kept dropping stuff

if anyone knows about human durability, at least in theory, it's Satan, but the avatar of wrath can be emotionally charged. he really didn't mean to hurt them, but he was trying so hard not to lose it that day and as he led mc out of his room so they wouldn't be caught in the inevitable explosion, his deadly sharp claws nicked their skin. the wounds were mostly superficial— hurt like a bitch but no major arteries were damaged— but there was quite a lot of blood and Satan felt sick in a way he never had before. humans scar easily, a useful trait to close open wounds quickly, but Satan hates that he was the cause of those raised lines

Asmo is probably best at remembering since he hangs out with Solomon and has had human lovers before, but he is mostly around Solomon who cannot die. so he doesn't always remember what is and isn't toxic for humans, especially since a lot of poisons are used in medicines at lower doses and a lot of things we need to live are poisonous if we consume enough. it'd only take one slip up to put mc in hospital, and of course they don't blame him but he begs Satan to teach him as much as he can so it never happens again

you know Beel would try his best to remember, and he'd feel horribly guilty if he ever hurt mc, but he's big and strong even by demon standards and can eat anything that isn't Solomon's cooking. there's a few ways this one could go— sharing food with them that's toxic to humans, hugging them a bit too hard, mc giving him their food and going hungry, they work out together and they get hurt... take your pick

and Belphie knows all too well how fragile mc is, so he's very careful with his demonic strength around them. he already killed them once with barely any effort. but one day he wakes up from napping with mc to find he held them too hard and they're bruising. maybe his arm curled around their neck as it bloomed black and blue once again. Belphie doesn't nap with them for a while after that

! ANON! 💕💕💕💕

I don't know how you sniped me from across the highway but whump/injuries are exactly my cup of obsession and I've thought about this forever- i just never really had enough to make a full post. I LOVE your ideas and I hope you dont mind me bouncing some of my own off them;

----

Lucifer and his funny little habit of hanging his brothers 💕 Say he takes pity on MC, makes sure they're right side up, nothing around the neck and only tied beneath the arms and around the legs. Plans to take them down in 5 minutes, really it was meant to be the pet equivalent of air jail. But a call here, difficulties there and 5 minutes turn to 10 and then it slips to 15. It's so little time, absolutely nothing compared to the nights he's left Mammon up over the banister.

So why are there screams in the hall? Why are Asmo, Mammon and Levi on the phone with Solomon, Barbatos, and Simeon respectively? He doesn't understand why they don't immediatley drop MC down, only catching the tail end of Solomon explaing something called "suspension trauma" to Asmo. When they do get MC down, even from a distance he can see the color is almost completely gone from their face, while their legs are a few shades darker. He watches Satan mouth out the count for MC's pulse, quick and staggering. When MC wakes, they can't seem to take a proper breath- gasping, clutching their chest, tearing up and confused. There isn't much more any of them can do, other than stand back and hand MC over to Barbatos and Solomon.

----

In a movie, it would be considered slapstick comedy, the way that Mammon skid around a corner full speed, carpet pulling under his feet , hip checking the wall as he ran away from Lucifer. In a movie it would be hilarious they way him and MC crashed, sending them literally flying back, head bouncing off the wall, swirls in their eyes and stars dancing around their head. In a movie they would only need to shake it off and get up to yell at him, with Lucifer standing back and watching in smug satisfaction.

But there wasn't anything funny about this, MC slumped in his arms, blood turning his tshirt into a darker shade of black, making it tacky and stick onto his skin. They're awake, sort of? But their pupils aren't the same size, and the speech is slurred. There's a truce as Lucifer heals MC, and they get them to a proper doctor.

Mammon gets better at ducking and weaving around MC, it even helps him evade Lucifer better. But MC doesn't escape the dislocated shoulders, and unwanted popping of their knuckles when Mammon holds their hand too hard. Neither had known that after the first dislocation, its a lot easier to dislocate your should again. It's never intentional, but it always hurts- MC tries to breathe through it if there is an urgency, but Mammon catches the way they pointedly look away, trying to blink the tears away, and knows that he's- once again- failed to keep MC out of harm.

---------

Levi being MC's energy drink dealer. He doesnt know why they dont but their own, but he has plenty so he ultimately doesnt mind sharing. They're not attached at the hip so he doesnt see how little sleep MC is getting, a single can carrying them through 2 whole days. They know its time to 1-up again when their heart stops sounding like helicopter blades.

He finds them on the floor of their room, rubbing their arms raw with the hard bristle brush Asmo uses to buff his horns, babbling incoherently to themselves.

-----

With Satan the physical is NEVER intentional, as much as he used to rage in the early days of the fall, the thought of hurting MC didn't sit well with him. But tiny nicks are so easy to cause when even his regular nails are sharper than a humans'. If MC can keep their reactions subtle, it wont be until Satan is laying in their lap that he notices the "freckles" on their arms don't quite lay flat.

When you're used to fast reflexes, you don't think twice about slamming a door in someone's face. Someone (MC) who was too close and now has a broken, bloody nose. Now whenever the snore in their sleep, or their nose whistles when they laugh too hard, Satan remembers opening the door to MC doubled over, blood leaking from between their fingers as they tried to put pressure on the bridge of their nose.

-------

Dosage and concentration.

Asmo is vaugely familiar with these terms- SPF strength, alcohol proofing, acidity in his skin care. He's had so many spa nights with Solomon that he doesn't think twice about sharing his skin care routine with MC as well. Powders, gels, creams, exfoliants. Some a bit too harsh, MC's skin turns warm and flush, so he thinks their skin is sensitive. He'd ask for help caring for his wings and horns. MC goes in with their bare hands to get a good scrub, attributing the burn to the rough edges and upturned edges of Asmo's horns. It feels like icyhot, so it must be working. When they're done, Asmo tries to take the rest of the cream off their hands to apply to his hands, but they both scream as a visible layer of skin from MC starts peeling off as well. The acid having fulling numbed and killed off most of the senses in MC's hand, had started to deteriorate the skin, and its by some small blessing that MC hadnt already applied it to their face. It takes a panicked called to Solomon to get the feeling back into MC's hands, but it still takes weeks for the skin to grow back on to their hands. The pain of bandages on raw muscle is excruciating, and Asmo sticks to them like glue, fully taking the blame for their condition.

-----

Beel and Belphie have another trauma to share as twins- nearly killing MC in their sleep! Beel doesnt understand how heavy an unconcious body can be, and being as large as he is, this becomes a problem the first time him and MC share a bed. He falls asleep with an arm draped over them, but exhaustion from practice has him rolling on to them. Even if not entirely covering them, the weight on their chest makes it hard to breathe and MC soon drops nicities and is trying their damnest to get him off or at least wake him up. Its a panicked use of the pacts to call another brother that saves them, and Beel cant sleep for the rest of the night.

Belphie doesn't have as many night terrors these days, but they can still get bad. Usually sleeping with MC can keep these dreams at bay, but on nights that they dont, he wakes up to find MC tossed onto the floor or squeezed between him and the wall. On the worsts of these nights, he woke up to MC screaming, having wrapped a hand and tail so tightly around their arm that it shattered in 2 places.

(Can I also offer a beel and belphie alternative: MC wanting to match Beel's stamina/ gym workout time and getting muscle deterioration. Belphie wanting a sleeping partner so he messes up their sleeping cycles, 10+ hrs asleep, accidentally depriving them of light, water, and food, causing a depressive episode)

[jinxed-ninjago]

translating what the Ninjargon in the show says is WILD sometimes. that scene from True Potential where Lloyd's driving to Kryptarium and you can briefly see the spedometer? HE WAS GOING 171 WHATEVERS PER HOUR????? Assuming it's in kilometers per hour, because most non-US countries use KM/H instead of MPH, including Canada (where Ninjago is made), he was going 106 MPH. Which isn't too fast but STILL SPEEDING BY AT LEAST 20 MPH IN PRETTY MUCH EVERY PLACE EVER??

I do want to mention the detail that went into Lloyd's speedometer specifically though, because it changes from 142 km/h (or 90 MPH) to 171 km/h (or 106 MPH). By the time Lloyd breaks his speedometer, he's going 150 km/h (93 MPH).

So over the course of this specific clip, Lloyd's speedometer indicates he's going (in this order):

142 km/h or ~90 mph

171 km/h or ~106 mph

153 km/h or ~95 mph

150 km/h or ~93 mph

154 km/h or ~96 mph

Plus some other readings that are hard to read because of the angle

[moshspitting]

just hit 72 hours on my fast!!! very much proud of myself 😜 should i go to 96 hours?

i’m literally so happy omg. 72 hrs is the most i’ve done then i usually just go back to purging

honestly i wanna ⭐️ve to the end of the year ~

i’m not feeling hunger anymore :)

[starlitiris]

“Lilacs” ~ Painter x Reader (Part 1)

Part 2

warnings: angst, character death, mildly descriptive graphic imagery, grief, panic attacks(?)

beginning notes: thank you to cavern-creature for giving me the idea to write this! i’m not too happy with the pacing, but oh well. more notes will be at the end of the story.

word count: ~2.1k

~ 🪻 ~

It’s a beautiful spring day. The sun is high and shining bright, nary a cloud in the sky. The weather was perfect! Or so Painter had been told. He couldn’t feel the temperature himself, of course. He couldn’t feel the soft, gentle breeze brushing over his monitor, either. Or smell the floral aroma coming from the field of flowers him and his friends were in. A beautiful shade of purple surrounded the three on each side. Painter, his creator, and you.

He watched you run out into the field, his creator electing to stay behind so he could set Painter up on the crate they always bring. You came to halt, turning to face the wind, and held out your arms to feel it. The breeze, the sun, the flowers grazing your calves. It was bliss.

You looked amazing. The sunlight shone on your face, highlighting all of your beautiful features. Your clothes, moving with every gust of wind that rushed by, framed you perfectly. Your smile was as bright as always. You looked perfect. You are perfect. Painter was sure of that.

“Hey, stand still!” The AI called out to you. “I wanna capture you just like that!”

You giggled. “Just like this? Are you sure?”

“Exactly like that,” he reinforced, the sweetest smile painted on his screen.

“Okay, but try not to take too long! My arms are gonna start hurting if I have to stand here for hours.”

“I won’t take THAT long! Just hold still, I’ll paint you first,” Painter responded, wiping his page clean to start sketching you.

“He has been getting faster at this lately,” his creator adds, resting his elbow atop the computer.

“Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes, even though you’re still smiling. “Let’s just hope he’s fast enough,” you tease.

“Hey, you can’t rush perfection!” He tells you.

You laugh. Banter with Painter is always light and fun. You’re impressed that he already has a really good outline of you done. You’ve seen him paint a hundred times over at this point, but watching his process never ceases to amaze you. It’s kind of mesmerizing. You love it.

You love him. And he loves you all the same.

One of the cameras Painter is connected to picks up on motion somewhere in the blacksite, pulling him out of his daydream. He groans and sets his unfinished drawing of you aside as a draft. Back to work.

Urbanshade just sent down a few more teams of expendables, it would seem. What a drag. At least Painter could try to have some fun while he stalls them.

He doesn’t bother with actually watching them – it serves him no real purpose to do so. He just goes off of motion sensors and does what he can do in any given room the suckers wander into. Luring Z-96 around with the PA system, activating turrets, pissing off Eyefestation when it’s near enough. Fun stuff.

He giggles to himself knowing one of the active teams was just fooled by a false door.

“Moronsss,” he says to nobody.

Things continue this way for a while, like they always do. As the night progresses, all the EXR-P teams are gradually killed off. All but one, that is. That’s all thanks to him, as well as the many other dangers this place has to offer. The motion sensors indicate that the remaining team is down to two expendables. They won’t last long. Painter is certain.

Only one expendable enters the next room.

See? He knew it.

And, would you look at that. This room has turrets in it! Might as well put this poor sap out of their misery. He activates the weapons.

It’s one of the long rooms that has a large window peering out into the ocean, equipt with three turrets to cover nearly every inch of the area. Well, they used to cover every inch. But that was before panicked Urbanshade employees set up tables and lockers for protection. Now they could only scan most of the room. Oh well. The tables and lockers didn’t save those workers, and it certainly won’t save this prisoner.

He takes note that the expendable made it to a safe spot in the center of the room. Barely, though. A laser on one of the turrets grazed their ankle before they made it to safety. The weapon was alerted for a brief moment, then went back to rotating around the room when the person was out of sight.

“Ugghhh,” Painter dramatically groaned in his cage. How annoying. At least this idiot still has the other half of the room to get through.

The expendable warily leaves the comfort of their safe spot to move forward. They only make it a quarter of the way to where they’re aiming to go, though, before being harshly informed by a loud beeping that they didn’t time this correctly. They take a few bullets to their right arm and leg while hurrying back to where they had just been hiding.

“Ngh, dammit! F-Fuck, fuck, fuck…” they curse.

Huh. That voice sounds… kind of familiar to Painter. Weird.

He decides not to waste much time on that thought. There’s no way he could possibly know this person, and he needs to focus.

He has a job to do.

Kill the expendables. Stall for time.

He waits while the bleeding criminal braces themself to make another run for it. They certainly don’t seem to be in a rush.

“Cooome ooon, stop wasting time! You’re just gonna die anyway!” Painter complains, once again to nobody but himself. He hasn’t been talking to these losers as much as he normally would today. He didn’t even feel like taunting them. He was in a sour mood. They interrupted his daydream.

“God, how am I going to do this…?” He hears the person ask themself.

They sound familiar. So familiar. It’s bothering him now. He can’t hear them all that well because of the audio quality and their quiet volume, but there’s something about that voice…

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Get rid of them.

The expendable is on their feet again. They steady themself against the locker they’ve been tucked behind, and take a deep, shaky breath.

They hold.

They wait.

And they run as fast as their aching, wounded body will let them.

They shout when a bullet pierces their shoulder, and drop dead in front of the unopened door as they’re shot down.

And that’s the last of the EXR-P teams until Urbanshade sends more down in a pathetic attempt to retrieve their precious crystal.

Suckers.

Finding himself with nothing to do again, Painter tries to go back to his daydreaming. That wonderfully beautiful face, amongst that beautiful purple field, underneath the beautiful beating sun. But he finds himself distracted by that voice again. He tries to brush it off and forget about it, but it’s bothering him. Like an itch that won’t go away. Now that he thinks about it, it sort of sounded like…

No. That’s impossible. You were on the surface somewhere, safe and sound. Blissfully unaware of the horrors taking place at the bottom of the ocean. Unaware of the horrible things Painter is doing for the sake of freedom.

You are safe.

Hell, you might even be in that field at this very moment. It may be cold out this time of year, but you three used to agree that it was gorgeous there year-round. That’s why you all would visit it all the time.

That’s probably where you are. Yeah. In the field. Waiting for purple to blanket the ground once again.

… But even knowing that, he can’t shake the anxiety building within him. Just the thought of you ending up here somehow, let alone being killed- by him.

But it’s not you. He knows that. And just to prove to himself that it isn’t you, he’ll go look at the corpse through a camera near the door so he can see that it’s clearly… not…

…

He has to stare for a while to fully grasp what he’s seeing. He shows up on the sign next to the door.

That wonderfully beautiful face.

You’re paler than he remembers. Likely due to the fact that all of the blood that should be swimming through your veins is now a massive puddle on the floor. Your eyes, once bright and warm, now look dull and lifeless. Your face holds no emotion. Blood has seeped out of your nose and the corner of your mouth, contributing to the pool of crimson surrounding you.

You’re surrounded in red.

You should be surrounded in purple, but all he sees is red.

“... No…”

Painter doesn’t want to believe what he’s seeing is real.

“No… no no no.”

All of his anxiety is replaced with panic.

“Y/N! Y/N, wake up!”

He can’t accept that you’re dead. He won’t.

“Y/N, please! I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to! Please!”

He can’t lose you too.

“Please!!”

His voice cracks as if he’s crying.

And he is.

That’s not something he wanted to know he could do.

He starts to desperately alert to Sebastian that something is wrong. Painter can’t do anything for you himself, but his friend can. He can help. He can fix you.

Painter keeps begging for you to wake up, telling you help is on the way. Minutes feel like hours while he waits for Sebastian to arrive at the scene.

When he does arrive, he bursts through the only door in the room not marked by the navi-path.

“What, what?! I’m here, what happened?!” The man shouts, looking around to try to see what the fuss was about.

“Sebastian! Help them, please! You have to help them!” Painter pleads.

“Help who??” Sebastian asked before noticing your corpse on the floor in front of his friend. “Uh…”

“Hurry!! What are you waiting for?!”

Sebastian slithers over to you, a look of uncertainty plastered on his face. He barely recognizes you as one of the expendables that was in his shop not that long ago.

“Uh… Paint? I don’t really know what you want me to do here,” he admits.

“Help them! You have medkits, don’t you?! Use them! Use anything!! Just save them, please!!” Painter cries.

“Why, though? It’s just an expendable, you’ve done this plenty of times-”

“They’re not just an expendable, they’re my friend! I knew them before I was brought here- just, please!! We don’t have time for this!!” He shouts, frustrated that Sebastian isn’t doing anything to help yet.

“You… knew them?” Sebastian asks, now with a look of concern.

“Yes, why aren’t you doing anything?!”

“... Paint…”

“Do something!!”

“Paint.”

“They’re dying!! I can’t-”

“Painter.”

“I can’t lose them, too! I can’t! I can’t- I can’t be the reason- please!”

Sebastian frowns. It hurts seeing his friend in such a state.

“Why are you looking at me like that?! Please…!”

“Painter.”

“Stop saying my name! Why- why aren’t you doing anything?!” Painter sobs.

“They’re gone. There’s nothing we can do for them.”

“No- you’re not even trying! How do you know that if you haven’t even tried?!”

“Look at them, Paint. They’ve lost way too much blood to be saved.”

“That’s not true!! It’s not true! It’s not…” he trails off.

Sebastian remains silent. He patiently waits for his friend to process that you won’t be waking up.

It takes him a while, but eventually Painter is able to speak up again.

“Oh god…” his voice shakes. “Oh god… I killed them.”

Sebastian sighs.

“I killed them. Sebastian, I killed them. I killed my best friend. Oh, god.”

Sebastian carefully makes his way around your body to gently pat Painter’s screen while he continues to weep. He repeats over and over to himself that he killed the first person he ever loved, as if saying it enough times would somehow make it hurt less.

He did this to you.

He couldn’t bear it.

Painter was an inconsolable mess. But even still, Sebastian would stay with him for as long as he needed. He doesn’t mind putting off whatever he was doing before this to be there for his only friend.

Expendable or not, he sincerely wishes he could bring you back for Painter.

He doesn’t believe he and his AI companion can afford to lose anymore than what they have.

Reality was cruel. It proved itself to be, every goddamn day.

What Painter wouldn’t give to see you in that field again. The sunlight shining on your face, highlighting all of your beautiful features. Your clothes, moving with every gust of wind that rushed by, framing you perfectly. Your smile, as bright as always.

Surrounded in purple.

Lilacs were always your favorite.

~ 🪻 ~

ending notes: according to multiple sources, lilacs often symbolize joy, youth, the impermanence of youth, and first love. though, one source also says that lilacs can symbolize old love, stating that victorian widows would often wear them as a sign of remembrance.

Since this didn’t follow the suggested prompt exactly, I’ll likely write a less-sad part 2 for this. Let me know if you would like to see it! (It’s actually out rn if you wanna go read it, it’s linked at the top of the post! <3)

Thank you for reading.

[mrsmarlasinger]

Oh? My fucking god??

THIS WAS THE CONTROLLER FOR THE SUBMARINE THAT WENT MISSING???

The Logitech F710??

Like, okay, apparently the U.S. military* uses Xbox 360 controllers. I get that. It's cheap. It's technology already familiar to many young adults. I get it, I do.

*(fuck 'em)

But still. STILL.

I don't know anything about gamepads, but I do know the Logitech F710 came out thirteen years ago. I just found it on Ebay for $16 including shipping.

But surely that means that through the test of time, the Logitech F710 has proven itself to be the best around, right? A work of video game engineering so flawless, even a relatively sane individual might agree to trust it with their life....right?

Oh. Oh. Jesus Horatio Christ.

Imagine your joystick drifts and your buttons get stuck and your controller lags...while you're steering a submarine...13,000 FEET UNDERWATER.

(That's about 4,000 meters, or just under 2.5 miles. And yes, I know it's actually a submersible, not a submarine.)

Oh my god. Oh my god.

For context, according to Naval Post:

A submarine specifically built to rescue people from subs sunk deep in the sea has a maximum depth of 7,500 to 10,000 feet (2,250 to 3,000 meters). But no, with the Titan, we're talking 13,000 FEET.

So if the pressure at approximately that depth is 5,775 psi, which means 5,775 lbs (2,619 kg)—or ALMOST THREE TONS—per square inch...

...and the atmospheric pressure where I live is sitting at 14.5 psi today...

That means the sheer pressure of the ocean at that depth is, like, 400 times that of the air we breathe. So if your fucking 13-year-old video game controller drifts you into the wreckage of the goddamn Titanic, the moment your hull sustains a little damage, even the tiniest leak, you're gonezo. The sub implodes and you're pulverized. Instantly.

(Plus I hear the compression rate is so extreme, the molecules so fast-moving, that everything heats to combustion in the split second before the water puts it out. So really, you'd be incinerated before you'd be crushed. Ain't that a treat?)

But hey, maybe the pressure hull remains intact and you just lose power. Or get entangled in the wreckage of, again, THE GODDAMN TITANIC.

Then it's just you and your four rich buddies crammed into a metal tube, waiting for your 96 hours of oxygen to run out.

Navigational computers on the fucking floor. No backrests. No seats. No padding. Nothing. Just one small toilet sat in front of one tiny window.

So when the power dies and the lights go out, it's just a claustrophic sardine tin of the wealthy, alone in the suffocating pitch-dark at the bottom of the ocean, choking on the smell of their own shit.

All this, for a quarter of a million dollars per head.

Which they paid even though Stockton Rush, the CEO of OceanGate himself, said that SAFETY IS A WASTE. OH MY FUCKING—

A sadly unshocking thing to hear from the CEO of a company that's engendered safety concerns! For! YEARS!

Also unshocking: the waiver apparently mentions death three times on the first page.

You know.

In case it didn't get through to you after the first two times. Or after reading that the sub is experimental and hasn't been approved or regulated in any remotely meaningful way.

But it's okay if the MacGyvered fucking submarine crumbles like a Saltine cracker, because IT DOESN'T MATTER IF EVERYTHING FAILS! AS LONG AS THE PRESSURE HULL'S INTACT, IT'S OKAY IF YOU'RE STUCK 13,000 FEET UNDER THE SEA WITH A RAPIDLY DWINDLING SUPPLY OF OXYGEN! THE CEO OF OCEANGATE SAID SO!!!

HAHA! HA! YES, THE TOTALLY SUCCESSFUL MACGYVERED SUB WITH A COMPLETELY INTACT PRESSURE HULL!!!!

Oh my god. Oh my GOOOOOOOOD.

But hey! Remember! :) If the Juulpod-sized, Atari-run hunk of hubris doesn't literally fucking implode with you inside it, it's okay that there are 18 bolts locking you in that can't be undone without external assistance! Because Stockton Rush said you're safe as long as the (definitely pristine) hull is still intact!

So if you're bobbing on the surface of the ocean, watching seagulls cross blue sky through your single tiny porthole, listening to the pulse of white-crested waves ruffled by the cool sea breeze, drowning above water because you can't escape the slow ceaseless hourglass that is your stagnant air supply without a rescue crew—a rescue crew that can't even find you because you're mired in a vast expanse of savage ocean and oh, by the way, your communications going down is what started all this in the FIRST PLACE...

...well, don't worry! Titan's many, many, MANY successful past voyages should give you comfort! :)

But, on the very off chance this could be a dangerous and likely deadly situation, tell me: which would be the worst way to go?

Incinerating in the abrupt birth of a terrible, crushing singularity?

Asphyxiating in the lightless abyss that lurks like some arcane hell at the bottom of the ocean?

Or suffocating just as slowly above the water, with air so close you can see the misty breeze yet still...just...out...of reach?

God, I hope we save these dumbass idiots. Especially since one of them's just a 19-year-old kid. I don't even care how rich and stupid they are. I just can't imagine dying like that.

[ici-bee]

1 more day to go to finish my fast, might try to go longer though

[ne-4-n-4-skies]

24/11/24

Weigh in ~ N/A

Breakfast:

Skipped

- 0

Lunch:

Broth

- 20

Dinner:

Pasta Pot - 233

Cous Cous - 390

Chilli Sauce - 20

- 643

Total ~ 663

Broke Fast After 96 Hours ~ Yayyy Longer Than Last Few Times, Next Fast Will Probably Be After Christmas, But I Might Try Do Little 24 Hour Ones Here And There.

[ijuswanabeth1ny]

fuck my life

my girlfriend of 6 months broke up with me. i ate like 1000 cals worth of chocolate kill me. i was on hour 96 of my fast. she now likes this skinny Rugby girl. im going to get th!n and make her jealous. that bitch shattered my heart. im fasting for aslong as possible now. I weigh in at 69.25 kg after the food. im going to make it to 60 by october.

[mysticalrexie]

Lowkey rant and motivation for skinny girl fall

So I know I just done a long fast of 86 hours but I can’t help but eat bullsh!t all the time bc I’m having stupid cravings????? I want to try to fast from tomorrow till Sunday, so 10 hours more than my longest ever (96 hours). I just can’t look at myself atm and my parents keep buying my fear foods I’m betraying Ana. I always keep slacking when I’m right infront of my first goal weight I can’t let this happen AGAIN. This time I’ll change up the rules though.

I will take my vitamins every day

If I’m forced to try something (eg. mom cooked smth) it doesn’t count i will just continue to fast right after

Small snack (HEALTHY LOW CAL) allowed when low blood sugar

Try being a little bit more active again

I know those rules technically break a fast but rn it’s about control.

[lover-of-mine]

https://www.tumblr.com/lover-of-mine/755197579959123968/so-over-the-slow-burn-thing-too-also-the-idea

I firmly believe that all the people who say they want an entire season of buddie pinning and then like season 9 mid for canon buddie just truly don’t understand how long that is. Like I don’t think they understand in tv show format that translates into months upon months of just the same thing episode after episode after episode. Hiatus and breaks. And the fact that mid season 9 is over a year away. It’s not like their ao3 fics where they can just binge through all 70k words of pinning and get to the happy ending in an hour or two. I also don’t think they understand just how fast they will get bored of seeing that play out for so long. After the 3rd or 4th episode of them pinning (so a month of it) they will be begging for it to end. Nevermind watching 8 months of pinning, 3-4 months of hiatus, then another 4ish months of pinning before hitting that season 9 winter break.

I blame streaming format for "slowburns" for that actually. Like, Colin and Penelope from Bridgerton, people wanna call that a slowburn, it took them 20 episodes total to get engaged, but you have whole seasons being put out at once, so you watch the story all at the same time and have to wait a shit ton of time between season, so it feels like a lot of time has passed, but let's face it, you probably watched the whole season in a weekend, so the actual story is not frustrating, but couples that get together in one season feel rushed. Same with JJ and Kiara from outerbanks, it took them 29 episodes to get together, but there's a lot of space between seasons, so a relationship that takes time to develop, it's not just introduced as romantic gets called a slowburn when it's literally just... developing in a decent pace. Wanna know what's episode 20 for buddie? Sink or swim. Episode 29? Seize the day. What's 4 years of "slowburning" in streaming is a season and a half. That's what? A year and a half for us? Mid-season 9 for us is 28 episodes away if we keep the 18-episode format. Which doesn't seem like a lot, but we are getting one episode a week, other things happening to other characters, a mid-season hiatus, a between-season hiatus, stops in the middle of a season. If you experienced a classic procedural network slowburn real-time, Kate and Castle, Bones and Booth, Castle says he loves Kate at the season 3 finale and they keep dancing around getting together after and it's 23 very agonizing episodes waiting week by week for them to stop being idiots. It has been 96 episodes since Eddie has been introduced. It happened 6 years ago. The clock didn't reset all of a sudden when Buck came out as bi, for all intents and purposes we have been waiting for 6 years. I've seen multiple people say getting buddie in season 8 would be instant gratification and no matter how I look at it, I can't see how. I doubt it could realistically happen before 804, so that's at least 100 episodes. It's not like they're gonna drop the whole arc at once and we're gonna watch 10 uninterrupted hours of 911 on a Saturday and see them get together. We have been watching week after week for YEARS, and I will keep watching, but MY GOD, you can't get any slower than we're at right now. Getting them together during 9b is them getting together after February 2026 at best. We don't know if we're gonna get a season 9, the idea of gambling and stalling this when it has been locked and loaded already is just............ At this point, any other classic procedural slowburn had at least kissed one. At this point, it's stalling just to stall. Just get Eddie out of the closet and get them together already, it's been SIX YEARS. It will feel like a slowburn once you watch back. Can we just please stop acting like the show suddenly restarted with the switch the ABC?????????????????????????????