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[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 7.4k (shorter chap woop) tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

Year: Early 2018

He hasn’t been answering your phone calls. Or your texts. A growing sense of anxiety and worry forms in your gut. You've trained yourself to push down the more insidious thoughts that threaten your already deteriorating relationship. It’s been a long day for you. From work, to your annoying mother, and now to your M.I.A boyfriend. You wanted to relax at home with a movie and soothing music, maybe even food. However, it’s been hard to eat for the past few weeks. 

The last place you wanted to be was at some house party with snobby people who probably never have realized the true meaning of a dollar. The music is loud and the blue lights do nothing but further annoy you, reminding you of just how much you hate parties. Pushing through the throngs of people, either too drunk to high to give your rudeness a huff. 

It’s not hard to spot him, but the sight makes you dig your nails into your palms. Feeling bile rise in your throat when a girl—one you’ve never seen before—is getting too close and personal with your man. And worst of all? He’s not even pushing her away. He’s obviously drunk. Still, you assumed he would have that much decency to push back flirting advances from random girls. He always did.  

But things have been changing recently, slowly but surely. Ever since that happened. 

Your feet work quickly, forcing yourself to stay determined and not break down and cry right now. You’ve been doing too much of that. “Satoru.” You call out, voice loud and firm enough that he swivels his head to meet your eyes on just the first try. The girl does so also, head tilting in a scrutinizing way that you hate. “Are you drunk?”

The tint on his cheeks is proof enough. But so is his lazy grin. “What do you think?”

The girl giggles, leaning into your boyfriend’s arm. Watching her do so sends a wave of fury down your spine. You would have stepped in if it weren’t for Satoru finally being a decent man and pulling away from her. “Sorry, you gotta go.”

“Excuse me?” The girl huffs, scowling in disgust. “For what? I thought we were having a good time.”

So, they were together the whole night, huh? They probably would have stayed together if you didn’t make an appearance. What if they would have taken things further? What if Satoru imitated something? You can already feel the familiar tingle at the back of your throat, turning around and heading back for the door. He follows, grabbing your arm in an attempt to stop you. “Y/N—“

“Don’t.” You grit, yanking your arm away and pushing your way back out to the front of the large house, ignoring some of a drunken couple’s protests as you ruin their make-out session. When you make your way onto the sidewalk, you feel a more insistent tug at your wrist that causes you to face him fully. Meeting his glazed-over eyes with your own teary pair, biting down on your quivering lip. “Why didn’t you answer your phone? Why are you ignoring me?”

He sighs, running a hand down his face when he lets go of you. “I’m not ignoring you, Y/N. I’m sorry, I should have told you I’d be out. But it was last minute.”

A scoff falls from your lips. “Last minute, huh? Is that what you call it? Hanging around some random girl and acting like you don’t have a worried girlfriend waiting for you?”

“Y/N—“

“Did you cheat on me?” You ask, voice cracking. Your tears now flow freely down your face, eyes red. The expression you adorn does nothing but break his heart. He hates seeing you cry, he always has. And the small, sober part of him is cursing at himself for being such a jackass tonight. But the dominant, drunk side wants no part of an argument tonight. 

“No, I didn’t. I’d never.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N.”

“I want you to be a good boyfriend for once!” You croak out, pushing him back by his shoulders. “Y-you know what I’m going through, you know how hard it’s been. And what do you do? You go out and party, you don’t tell me, and I find some random girl all up on you. And then you smiled like it was funny. D-do you know how much you’re hurting me even more, Satoru?” The trembling of your voice pokes at his heartstrings. 

Satoru stares at you, his expression faltering. For a moment, you think you see guilt flicker across his face, but it’s quickly replaced by something colder—defensiveness. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, alright? I was just...blowing off steam.”

“Blowing off steam?” you repeat, your voice rising as fresh anger bubbles in your chest. “You call this blowing off steam? Ignoring me? Letting some girl throw herself all over you? You’re unbelievable.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his movements. “What do you want me to do, Y/N? Stay at home and sulk all the time? I can’t—” He stops himself, biting his lip, but you know what he was going to say. 

“You can’t what, Satoru?” Your voice cracks again, but this time it’s laced with more rage than sorrow. “You can’t deal with me? With everything I’m going through? You promised you’d be there for me. You said we’d get through this together.”

“I am here for you!” he snaps, but the slight slur in his voice takes the edge off his words. “But you’re acting like I can’t breathe without you questioning every little thing I do. I’ve been going through shit too, Y/N.”

You suck in a shaky breath. “That’s not fair,” you whisper, your fists clenching at your sides. “You know it’s not. If I didn’t care—if I didn’t love you—I wouldn’t be here, trying to fix this.”

He exhales heavily, his shoulders slumping. “I didn’t cheat on you, Y/N. I swear I didn’t. But I��” He hesitates, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I don’t know how to handle all of this, okay? It’s a lot.”

Your breath hitches, his words cut deeper than he probably intended. “You think this isn’t a lot for me too?” you ask, your voice trembling. “I’ve been trying so hard, Satoru. To hold on. To be strong. For both of us. But you’re slipping away, and I don’t know how to bring you back. I know how to handle things just as much as you do.”

He looks up then, his blue eyes clearer now, filled with something that looks almost like regret. For a brief second, you think he might apologize—might say the words you so desperately need to hear. But instead, he shakes his head and says, “Maybe we just need some space.”

The world tilts beneath you. His words echo in your mind, louder than the music still blaring from the house behind you. “Space?” you repeat, barely able to say the word. “You want to take a break?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice quiet, almost defeated. “I just...I think we’re both hurting each other more than we’re helping.”

You laugh bitterly, wiping at the tears streaming down your face. “No, Satoru. You’re hurting me. You’re the one who stopped trying. You’re the one who’s giving up.” He flinches at your words, but he doesn’t argue. And somehow, that hurts even more. You shake your head, stepping back from him. “If space is what you want, then fine. But don’t expect me to be here waiting when you figure yourself out.”

You turn and walk away, your heart shattering with every step. This isn’t how you imagined the night would go. It isn’t how you imagined your relationship would go. But as you leave him standing there on the sidewalk, you can’t help but wonder if this was inevitable all along.

The same song begins to play. Because soon,  his arms are wrapping around you before you even know it, shoving his face into the side of your neck. “No, no, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m drunk, okay? Please don’t leave, please. L-let’s just go home, my parents aren’t there. Please, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

And like a broken record, you give in. Because the broken part of you still craves him. His touch, his comforting hugs, his words. His everything. You feel like a puzzle with pieces too big or small to fit, some pieces lost. But with Satoru, he makes them fit. He finds those pieces of you; the ones you can’t find yourself. In a way, you know things are failing and falling apart. 

But you’re laying back in his bed, feeling the constant vibration of your phone. Texts from your mother and you have no doubt she’s blowing up your phone about the way you snuck out and demanding to know where you are. It’s interesting, you’re twenty-one but she treats you like a kid. All because you still live with her. 

Your heart feels heavy, your stomach twisting with nausea and you’re not even the drunk one. His hands hold your teary cheeks, meeting your gaze with watery ones of his own. Combined tears wet his pillow until there’s no more to give out. He’s been crying with you, but sometimes it feels fake. 

“Did you cheat on me?” You ask again, whispering in a shaky tone. 

His lips purse and he shakes his head. “…no, I didn’t. I told you, I’d never.”

You search his face, looking for cracks in the foundation of his words. His sorrowful eyes, flushed cheeks, and trembling hands—all of it feels sincere, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Not so much anymore. “You’re sure?” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. 

“I’m sure,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I swear to you, Y/N. I’d never do that to you. Never.” His thumb brushes away a stray tear on your cheek, and for a moment, the warmth of his touch almost convinces you.

Almost.

You close your eyes, exhaling shakily as his hands cradle your face. You want to believe him. You need to believe him. But the doubt lingers like a shadow, clawing at the edges of your mind. “Then why do I feel like I’m losing you?” you ask, your voice breaking.

Satoru flinches, his hands momentarily faltering before steadying again. “You’re not losing me,” he says quickly, almost desperately. “I know I’ve been...different lately, but it’s not because I don’t care. I just—” He pauses, his gaze dropping as if searching for the right words. “I don’t know how to handle this, Y/N. I don’t know how to be what you need right now. There’s so much and I…” his voice trails off, fearing he’s saying too much and it’ll only make you feel worse. Make himself feel worse. 

Your chest tightens, his confession cutting deeper than you expected. “I don’t need you to have all the answers, Satoru. I just need you to try. To be honest with me. To stop shutting me out. You…you’re the only one—you’re all I have right now.”

“I’m trying,” he insists, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “I swear I’m trying. But it feels like...like no matter what I do, it’s not enough. And I hate it. I hate that I’m hurting you.”

The rawness in his voice pulls at something in you, making it harder to keep the walls around your heart intact. You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. For a moment, the vulnerability in his expression mirrors your own. “I don’t want to lose you, Satoru,” you say softly. “But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep feeling like I’m the only one fighting for us.”

“You’re not,” he whispers, his hands tightening slightly on your face as if afraid you’ll slip away. “You’re not, Y/N. I know I’ve messed up, but I’ll do better. I promise. Just...don’t give up on me. Please.”

The plea in his voice, the tears in his eyes—they’re enough to make the broken pieces of your heart shift, trying to fit back together even if they don’t quite align. Against your better judgment, you nod, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whisper. “But this is your last chance, Satoru. I mean it.”

“I know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I won’t mess this up. I promise.” But Satoru isn’t the best at promises. He’s only good at making them for others, not keeping them for himself. 

As he pulls you into his arms, holding you as if you might vanish, you can’t help but wonder how many more promises you’ll let him break before there’s nothing left of you to give. But for now, you let yourself sink into his embrace, hoping—maybe foolishly—that this time will be different. Because he’s all you have. All you know. He knows you inside and out—the way your voice wavers when you’re holding back tears, the way your hands fidget when you’re nervous, the way you laugh like it’s the only thing keeping you from breaking. And you know him just as deeply. Every freckle on his skin, every scar that tells a story, every mole you’ve discovered in moments of intimacy. You’ve memorized him like a favorite book, reading him over and over until the lines blur but still feel familiar.

You two are like each other’s canvases—painted with touches, kisses, and shared memories, even the messy ones. Every fight, every tear-streaked night, every whispered “I’m sorry” adds another layer to the masterpiece that is you and him. But lately, it feels like the colors are running, bleeding into one another until the picture is unrecognizable. And you don’t know if you can fix it, or if you even should. Never did you think that things would change so much, and all because of one failed situation. 

What a weak body you have, what a weak person you are. 

He holds you tighter, his fingers threading through your hair as if grounding himself in your presence. “You’re everything to me, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “I know I’ve been a mess, but I swear I’ll fix this. I’ll fix us.”

But his promises feel like paint on a waterlogged canvas—fading, smudged, and far too fragile. Still, you nod, letting the comfort of his warmth lull you into silence. Because no matter how fractured you feel, no matter how much the doubt weighs on your chest, he’s all you have. You can’t handle the thought of facing everything alone now, can’t handle the thought of not having someone to hug you when you burst down in tears. 

You hate the way things are now, but you’ve sunk too deep into him. And him the same. Over time, you feel like he will retract his hold from you before you do so yourself. You can almost feel it coming, one way or another. It’s why you’re holding him tighter, pressing your body deeper into his. Because you know you wouldn’t be able to do it yourself. Awaiting the inevitable hurts so bad. Knowing that no matter what, your end is visible. You can see the finish line just a few yards away. It’s like a race, and you’re letting Satoru win. Envisioning him running his long legs to the checkered line with a smile on his face like he’s happy—relieved. You don’t want to hold him, that’s the last thing you want to do. However, you’re being as selfish as you can be right now. Before every privilege is stripped from you in a cold manner that will leave you shivering for warmth. But his presence is something. And for now, that’s enough to keep you here and sane. 

Little did you know, you'd win that race before he did. You just needed that little push. He's the hare, and you're the tortoise.

You stay in his arms, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek a constant reminder of the closeness you’ve always shared. It feels almost like an illusion, the peace between you both. But underneath, there’s a tension that hasn’t quite loosened, a thread pulled tight between the two of you, holding you close but threatening to snap at the slightest tug. His grip tightens, his fingers threading into your hair, pulling you closer as if trying to fuse your two worlds together. The quiet hum of the room feels almost suffocating now. Your phone continues to buzz with your mother’s increasingly frantic texts, but you can’t bring yourself to care about that right now. Not with Satoru’s breath warm on your neck and his hands gently caressing your skin. Not when it’s easier to let him hold you in this fragile moment of peace. 

You close your eyes, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. The quietness stays for a long moment, But when he speaks, it’s almost a whisper, like he’s afraid of the truth that might spill out.

“I’ll try. I’ll be here for you, Y/N. I swear it.”

You wonder if you can truly believe him this time. If you can let yourself hope that things might really change. But the doubt is a familiar companion, lingering in the shadows, waiting to remind you of the cracks in his promises. Still, for tonight, you let it go. You let yourself sink into him, giving into the small piece of comfort he offers, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

You wake up in a cold sweat, dried tears staining your cheeks. Your stomach feels sensitive, nails already digging into your palms so hard that the skin is growing red and prickly. Every emotion you felt from that dream—nightmare—whatever it was feels ten times more real. You don’t know why you’re having these weird dreams about something from years ago. 

But it still hurts all the same, nonetheless. 

You still feel hollow, drowned, and ready to pour your heart out into your pillow. But it’s morning and time to get up for bed. Christmas Eve is in three days and you’re just counting down until when you won’t have to go into work.  Going through your routine, getting Koji ready for the day, opening the door for Sana. Leaving your place of solitude, it feels like you barely even lived through this morning. 

The chill of the morning air hits your skin as you step outside, tugging your coat tighter around you. The weight of your dream lingers, like a fog that refuses to lift. You keep telling yourself it was just a dream, just a memory from a time you’ve tried so hard to bury. But it clings to you like a ghost, whispering doubts into your ear, even as you force yourself to move through the motions. you can’t help but glance up at the sky, the gray clouds reflecting the heaviness in your chest. Christmas Eve is in three days, and you can’t wait to take a break from not just work—from everything.

If only escaping your past was as easy as flipping the calendar to a new year.

Satoru texts you around the 2-hour mark that he’ll be going over to your place soon to see Koji and bring the gifts he got. You let Sana know of the change, she replies back with a simple ‘okay!’

You sigh, willing yourself to forget about the drama your life entails, and focus on your work. 

However, another thought is creeping in through the door, and this time—it’s not such a bad one. You feel a fluttering sensation in your gut, holding back a peal of stifled laughter as the memory of last night makes its presence known. After the whole shirt incident, Suguru stayed. He kept his word about not making anything weird, and you two ended with a simple chat and a movie. It felt nice.

Of course, there were hints of lingering peeks, that strange tension tossed up in the air that neither of you fully addressed. But it’s fine, it didn’t mean anything at the end of the day. Although, when it was time for him to leave, you did have a second of hesitation about whether you should hug him or simply say goodbye. He decided for you when he carefully opened his arms up, you followed suit. 

Inhaling his scent felt heavenly. Manly, but also feminine at the same time. An earthly scent that felt like hints of incense. The memory of his embrace lingers like the faintest trace of his cologne, warm and comforting. It wasn’t just the way he held you—it was the way he made you feel. Secure. Understood. Like you weren’t just surviving, but living, even if just for that moment.  

You haven't hugged a man in so long. You forgot how good they hug. 

You shake your head, a small smile pulling at your lips despite yourself. It wasn’t anything. It shouldn’t be anything. Suguru’s always been like that—gentle, kind, and just a little too perceptive for his own good. He knew exactly when to stay and exactly what you needed without you even having to say it. Still, you can’t ignore the way your heartbeat picked up when his arms wrapped around you, the way your cheek brushed against his shoulder, and how your fingers had almost lingered a little too long against his back. It felt natural, but also entirely new. 

Suguru’s presence was so easy, so effortless. It felt like slipping into an old favorite sweater, soft and familiar but with a spark of something you couldn’t quite place. You’d been so wrapped up in keeping everything together, in pushing through every day for Koji’s sake, that you’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be seen.  

You wonder if Satoru holds the same longing you do. 

You shake the thought away as quickly as it comes. Don’t think about him. There’s no point in overthinking any of this.  

“Hello, you must be Koji’s father.” Sana greets Satoru who stands in the doorway. With him, two armfuls of gifts. Even more on the floor next to his feet. 

Simply nodding and looking over her shoulder to see Koji eating his lunch. “And you’re the babysitter.” Without much else, he carefully pushes past her, bringing in the gifts. “Mind getting the rest? Thanks.”

She nods, grabbing what was left on the floor before bringing it in, closing and locking the door. When she turns back around, Koji is in his father’s embrace. She smiles at the scene. “Ms. Y/N told me you’d be coming. He’s been good so far, he’s just eating his lunch now.”

“That’s good to hear,” Satoru replies, pulling away from his son. Doing a quick scan of the place before his eyes land back on the young woman. “How long have you been watching my son again?”

“A couple of years.”

He hums, walking closer to her. “And you’re how old?”

Sana blinks, surprised by the question. "I'm twenty," she says cautiously, her polite smile wavering slightly under his scrutiny.  

Satoru raises an eyebrow, his gaze sharp but unreadable. "Twenty, huh? Pretty young to be taking care of kids."  

“I’ve been babysitting since I was sixteen,” she replies, straightening her posture. “I’m studying early childhood education, so it’s not just a job to me. I care about Koji.”  

His expression softens a fraction, and he glances back at his son, who’s happily munching away at his sandwich. “He does seem to like you,” Satoru admits, his tone less probing now.  

“He’s a great kid,” Sana says warmly. “Very smart, just like his mother.”  

That earns her a faint smile. “Yeah, just like his mother.” He crosses his arms, leaning casually against the counter. “So, Y/N told you I’d be stopping by today?”  

“Yes, she mentioned it when I got here this morning.” 

Satoru nods, tapping his fingers against his forearm thoughtfully. “Good. Thanks for helping out today. I know it’s probably not easy juggling school and babysitting.”  

“It’s manageable,” Sana replies, sensing a subtle change in his demeanor. “Koji makes it worth it.”  

Satoru’s gaze lingers on her for a moment longer before he straightens up. “I’ll take over from here. You can go ahead and clock out early if you want.”  

“Oh, are you sure?”  

“Yeah,” he says, waving her off. “Enjoy the rest of your day. I’ve got this.”  

Sana hesitates briefly, glancing at Koji, who’s still blissfully unaware of the conversation. “Alright then. Have a good evening, Mr. Gojo.”  

As she gathers her things and heads for the door, she feels his eyes on her. It’s not hostile, but it’s assessing. Like he’s trying to gauge something about her. She doesn’t dwell on it, though—whatever it is, it’s not her place to question. “Oh!” She turns around as if she just remembered something. “Ms. Y/N leaves a list. It’s taped to the—”

“I don’t need a list to take care of my son.” He cuts her off smoothly, his one eyebrow raising. “Thanks again, have a good day.”

She falters, once again caught a little off guard. This is her first time meeting him, and while she’s of course seen the articles and comments about the drama surrounding the small family, she has no bias. In fact, she sympathizes greatly with you for going through all this alone. As she’s leaving the apartment, she can’t help the small opinion of Satoru that he’s already given her. 

He’s so intimidating!

After she leaves, Satoru focuses back on his son—this shitty apartment. He hasn’t explicitly voiced his opinions out to you—of course you already know what they are. And as you said before, it’s all you could afford, and Koji’s happy. However, he can’t stop himself from grimacing at the so-called ‘decorations’. This place needs some serious revamping. 

“Hey, buddy?”

Koji looks over, wiping his mouth. “Yes, Papa?”

“When you’re done eating, want to help me with something?” And Koji doesn’t need to be told anymore. He loves helping—especially his mother and father. So he nods excitedly, practically scarfing down the rest of his sandwich. Bubbling with giddiness only a child could have. 

Satoru chuckles at his son’s behavior, heart warming. This is the first time he’s doing something festive with Koji. The bitter part of him tells him that he could’ve had more chances to do so if it weren’t for your cowardness. But he shoves that away, focusing on the jolly joy the holidays can bring. 

Today was more tiring than usual, with the cafe gaining more attention, there’s been rush after rush after rush. You can handle it, but that doesn’t mean it won’t wear you down by the time you clock out. And your day isn’t even done yet. Slugging your way to your front door, lazily opening it with your key. Tossing your coat on the nearby rack, your bag with it. 

“I’m ba—”

You sniffle. One. Twice. 

A pinecone-y scent fills your nostrils. Which is strange because you know you have no candles that house that aroma. Confusion, but wariness takes over your senses. Following the sound of laughter down the hall until you’re standing in the living room. 

The sight you see is more than startling. 

Your eyes dart around in a frenzy, landing on one new thing after the next. The small, simple Christmas tree you’d put up last week? Replaced by a towering, impeccably decorated monstrosity with shimmering lights and a star that looks like it came straight out of a luxury catalog. It barely even fits in the room. Luckily, the small picture ornament of you and Koji is still there. But it looks so out of place.

The garlands you’d strung across the walls? Gone, swapped for lush, sparkling ones adorned with oversized ornaments. Even your modest stockings have been replaced with personalized velvet ones embroidered with gold thread, hanging perfectly above a faux fireplace setup that definitely wasn’t there this morning.

It’s like a winter wonderland exploded in your living room, and you’re not sure whether to laugh or scream.

Koji is sitting on the couch, giggling as Satoru playfully pretends to tangle himself in a string of fairy lights. Your son’s laughter is contagious, but you can’t shake the growing irritation bubbling inside you. When Koji notices you, his eyes brighten even more. Gaping and rushing over to your leg, hugging it. “Mama! Mama! Look what Papa and I did! It’s so pretty and there are so many presents!”

There is. There’s a lot of presents. Practically stacking on top of one another under your refurbished tree. Hidden somewhere in the splurge are the gifts Suguru got for you and Koji. 

Gulping, you feel your throat tighten. You feel nothing but overwhelmed. But in the face of your son, you can’t exactly show that. You force a smile as you ruffle Koji’s hair, trying to push down the irritation clawing its way to the surface. “Wow, it’s… definitely something,” you say, your voice strained but managing to sound somewhat amused for Koji’s sake.

Satoru, now untangled from the lights, looks up from the couch with that boyish grin of his. “Do you love it or do you love it?” he asks, gesturing to the extravagant decor like he’s unveiling a masterpiece. 

You blink at him, incredulous—but still attempting to keep yourself calm.  “What… what happened to the decorations we already had?”

“Oh, those?” He waves a dismissive hand. “Let’s just say they weren’t really up to par. I mean, come on, Y/N. That tree you had? It was like something out of a Charlie Brown Christmas special. I couldn’t let Koji’s holiday spirit suffer like that.”

Your jaw tightens, the forced smile threatening to slip. “So, you just… decided to replace everything? Without asking me?”

He stands, brushing off invisible dust from his jeans as if the weight of his decision is nothing. “You were busy, and I figured you’d appreciate coming home to something nice for once. Besides, look at Koji—he’s thrilled!”

Koji tugs at your sleeve, his wide-eyed excitement piercing through your annoyance. “It’s so cool, Mama! Look at all the shiny ornaments! And Papa let me pick out the star!” Your son runs over to show off a few of the many, many presents he has. Showing extra excitement for the heavier and larger ones. “Papa says it’s magical. I want to have a magical Christmas every time, Mama.”

The words, innocent but heavy, almost make you physically kneel down. You feel your chest tighten, your throat closing up even more. The lump that forms is difficult to swallow down. The implication of Satoru’s and your son's words feels a bit degrading. And you don’t blame it on Koji, he means nothing malicious. But for some reason, being faced with the physical line of difference between you and Satoru, watching your son’s face light up in a way that you’ve never seen before…

It reminds you that your enough has never been enough. Each Christmas, it’s dull. Your Christmases aren’t magical.  Your life isn’t. 

You feel the weight of it all crashing down like the oversized star on the new tree is pressing on your chest. Satoru's extravagance, Koji's innocent excitement, and your own feelings of inadequacy swirl together into a storm you’re barely holding back.  

Your forced smile falters, but you quickly kneel to Koji's level, brushing his hair away from his glowing face. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart,” you say softly, voice trembling but steady enough to reassure him. “I’m glad you had fun with Papa.”  

Koji beams, and for a moment, his joy is a balm to your frayed nerves. “It’s pretty, isn’t it, Mama?”  

You bite the inside of your cheek. “So pretty.” Standing slowly, your hand lingers on Koji’s shoulder. “Really pretty,” you repeat quietly, not committing to anything. You can feel Satoru watching you, his casual demeanor only adding to your irritation. The worst part of it all is that it seems like he genuinely has no idea what he did wrong. 

In hindsight, maybe he didn’t. It wasn’t his intention to make you feel like a shitty mother, but Satoru is good at pointing out the differences in his own ways. 

When Koji bounds back to the pile of gifts, you finally let yourself meet Satoru’s gaze. “You really didn’t think to talk to me about this?”  

His grin fades just a fraction, replaced by a look of confusion. “What’s there to talk about? I wanted to do something special for Koji. And let’s be honest, Y/N—this is special.”  

“It’s not about the decorations, Satoru,” you snap, your voice low but sharp. “It’s about you making decisions without considering how I might feel about it. Again.”  

He tilts his head, the glower returning, though it feels sharper now. “You’re overthinking this. It’s just Christmas decorations, Y/N. Look at Koji—he’s happy. Isn’t that what matters?”  

You clench your fists, the tightness in your chest threatening to spill over into something you can’t control. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t just about the decorations. It’s about you coming in here and acting like everything I do is subpar. Like I’m not enough.”  

The words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, Satoru’s expression falters. But he recovers quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the arm of the couch. “Y/N, no one’s saying that. You’re reading too much into this. I just wanted to make things nice for Koji, that’s all.”  

Your laugh is bitter, and it catches even you off guard. “Right. Because your version of nice is always the right one. I’m just the placeholder until you decide to step in and fix everything, aren’t I?”  

Satoru’s eyes narrow slightly, the playful spark he had with Kojidimming. “That’s not fair.”  

“Isn’t it?” you counter, your voice breaking despite your effort to stay calm. “You swoop in with all your money and your grand gestures, and I’m supposed to just smile and be grateful. But do you even realize how hard I’ve worked to give Koji a Christmas he’ll enjoy? How much I’ve sacrificed just to keep things normal?”  

His silence stings more than any retort could.  

Koji’s laughter in the background feels distant now, muffled by the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. He’s too distracted with the tree, his presents, everything. You inhale deeply, trying to steady yourself, before forcing a calmness you don’t feel.  You won’t fight in front of him. 

“I’m going to get changed,” you mutter, not waiting for a response.  

As you leave the room, Satoru calls after you, his voice softer but no less exasperated. “Y/N, come on. Don’t make this into a bigger deal than it is.”  

But to you, it already feels like a chasm. One that grows wider with every passing second.

You shut your door, leaning against it with your forehead. Breaths coming in short, hands trembling slightly. Biting your quivering lip, you maneuver your body to change into your uniform. All the while, tears are getting on your hands and clothes. Accidentally, you let out a small, broken whimper. 

 Quickly, you place a palm to your mouth, stifling and quieting your soft cries. Once you’re done changing, you fall back onto the bed. Curled up with knees drawn to your chest, as the burden of your own self-consciousness rains down on you. The room feels suffocatingly small, your emotions clawing at your throat, demanding to be let out.

The tears come harder now, soaking into the fabric of your uniform as you press your hands to your face, muffling the quiet sobs. You hate this—how easily Satoru gets under your skin, how he makes you feel insignificant without even trying. You thought you were past this. Past him. But somehow, he always finds a way to remind you of all the ways you’ve fallen short. Or at least, all the ways he makes you feel like you have.

There’s a soft knock on the door.

“Y/N?” His voice is muffled through the wood, quieter than usual as if he’s trying not to disturb you. “Are you okay?”

You don’t answer, biting down on your lip to keep from making another sound.

“Look,” he continues, his tone hesitant. “I know I upset you. I didn’t mean to. Can we just… talk?”

For a moment, you consider staying silent, letting him stew in his own discomfort. But the tension is too thick, and you know Koji is just down the hall. With a shaky breath, you push yourself to your feet, wiping at your face in a futile attempt to erase the evidence of your tears. Wiping your face and straightening your clothes, you open the door. “I have work.” You mutter, expertly enforcing a placid emotion. “Will you watch him?”

Without waiting for a response, you walk past him. But he grabs at your wrist, instinctively you pull away. “Stop, just stop, okay? Let’s not fight. We’re adults, we can talk this out. I don’t mean to make you feel less than, I just wanted to make Koji happy.”

“And do you think he’s not happy with me?” You snap back, looking up at him. Feeling your vision already beginning to blur. “Do you? Do you think he’ll be happy with you? I-Is that it?”

Satoru’s eyes widen slightly at your outburst, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. The air between you feels like it could snap under the weight of everything left unsaid. His hand hovers near his side, as if he wants to reach out again but knows better now. “No,” he says softly, his voice steady but lined with regret. “That’s not what I meant. Koji is happy with you. He loves you more than anything.”

“Then why do you keep acting like what I do isn’t enough?” you whisper, your voice trembling as you maintain eye contact with him. “I’ve been doing this alone, Satoru. Every scraped knee, every fever, every night when he cries because he’s scared of the dark—I’m there. Not you. Me. So don’t you dare come in here, throw your money around, and act like you can just fix everything with some… Christmas wonderland.”

“But you didn’t let me come in sooner, Y/N.” He replies, exasperation in his voice. 

“I know that, and I’m sorry. I know I fucked up…”

“Then stop getting mad at little things.”

Your fists ball up, your expression growing firmer by the second. But so is the need to cry again. He’s right, everything he says is right. It’s your own fault that you’ve been forced to handle everything alone. But, don’t your feelings matter just a little bit in this situation? Is he allowed to just come in and fix up everything you have? What he thinks is a mess, it’s something that holds significance to you. What he thinks is a little thing, it’s a big one in your eyes. 

So while this scenario is blowing up into something bigger, your decorations are something you have control of. You only have control over so many things in your life. 

He exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not trying to take anything away from you, Y/N. I swear. I just… I wanted to give him something special. Something I never had growing up.”

It makes you feel even more guilty. You can’t find it in you to say anything else, turning back around and walking to the living room. “Goodbye, Koji. Mama will see you later.” Giving him a brief hug and kiss, you hurriedly grab your coat and purse, exiting your apartment just as fast as you came. 

Unbeknownst to you, Koji is left staring at the closed door. His head tilting in curiosity, while a frown pulling at the corner of his lips. He looks up at his father when he enters the living room again, the two owning matching guises. “Why’d Mama leave so fast? I wanted to show her the drawing we did.” The white paper in his hands pictures three figures. Each one smiling, the smaller boy in the middle holding hands with his two parents on either side of him. He even drew blue snowflakes. 

There’s a red heart around them with the words My family! at the top. 

Satoru stands there, staring at the door you just closed, feeling the weight of Koji’s innocent question settle on his shoulders. He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he glances down at his son, whose big, curious eyes are filled with disappointment.

“She’s just tired, buddy,” Satoru replies, crouching down to Koji’s level. His tone is softer now, more measured, as he tries to mask the turmoil bubbling under his calm façade. “She’s been working really hard, you know? Grown-up stuff.”

Koji’s frown deepens, his little brows furrowing. “But we worked hard too! We did the tree and the presents and everything!” His tiny hands gesture to the decorated room, his frustration clear. “Mama’s s’posed to be happy.”

Satoru feels his chest tighten at the words. He places a hand on Koji’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “She is happy, Koji. She just… needs some time, that’s all. Grown-ups can be funny like that.”

Koji looks down, fiddling with his fingers before glancing back up. “Is it my fault?”

Satoru’s heart aches at the question, and he immediately shakes his head, pulling Koji into a firm hug. “No, not even a little bit. You didn’t do anything wrong, Koji. Don’t ever think that, okay?”

Koji nods slowly against his father’s shoulder but remains quiet. Satoru pulls back, cupping his son’s face in his hands. “Mama loves you so much, Koji. More than anything in the world. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Okay…” Koji mumbles, still not entirely convinced. He inhaled deeply, then spoke again. “Do…does Mama love you too?”

The question catches him off guard, putting an even bigger weight on Satoru’s shoulders. He should’ve expected it, Koji is a curious kid who still doesn’t completely grasp the complexities of his parents’ relationship. Satoru smiles faintly, kissing Koji’s cheek. “Mama has a lot of love.”

The answer satisfies Koji. For now. 

Satoru ruffles his son’s hair. “How about we finish that drawing? We’ll save it for her when she gets back.”

Koji perks up slightly, nodding. “Okay! But you gotta color inside the lines this time, Papa.”

Satoru chuckles, relieved to see even a small smile return to Koji’s face. “Deal. But only if you promise not to make fun of me if I mess up. I’m sensitive.”

Koji giggles, taking his father’s hand to lead him back to the small table. As they sit down to continue their drawing, Satoru steals a glance at the door again, his smile faltering for just a second.

He’s trying—he really is. But he wonders if it’ll ever be enough. It’s like no matter what he does, you don’t like it; and vice versa. He’s being as understanding and nice as someone in his situation can be. At times, he feels he’s being even too nice to you. He knew things wouldn’t be easy, but he wants to spend time with his son. Make up for all the lost time, and even the littlest moments. It’s almost a little bit unfair of you to throw the fact that he has money and you don’t in his face like that. He didn’t ask to be born rich. Just like you didn’t ask to be born…like that. You’re the adults in this situation, there’s a kid involved. So truly, he wishes he could just have a single conversation with you that doesn’t feel anger-surged or bitter. Of course, it’s hard because of what has happened before, but there’s a time and a place, is there not? 

Whatever. He’s more than happy to color with Koji and do whatever the little boy asks while you have your own moment. Satoru knows best of everyone else you like having space. And while many years have passed and his feelings for you have grown less than savory, he stills wants to respect your wishes after an argument with him.

He can’t help but think the obvious, though. Is it even worth attempting to mend whatever little shards of semblance there is left with you?

Probably not. Because after all, he’s here only for Koji. 

Right?

taglist is now closed

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[soft-beams]

hello!! could i request jinx with a fem! reader who’s a seamstress and insists on fixing up jinx’s clothes, maybe making her new ones too?

this is such a cute request 🥹 thank you for sending this my way!

jinx x seamstress!fem!reader

~~

"you can't keep walking around with holes in your clothes," you say after observing yet another rip in jinx's immensely torn pants. "it's like you want people to see you don't wear underwear."

"just for you," jinx replies, wiggling her brows. "and besides, no one cares what you look like down here. we ain't no topsiders who are so focused on what's in season or whatever the fuck they talk about."

"yeah, but you deserve good clothes, babe," you say, gesturing her towards you. "clothes that don't have holes in them. and what's the use of having a seamstress for a girlfriend if i can't offer you my services?"

jinx stares at you, her expression unreadable, but you can tell she's hesitating. time and time again, jinx has always worried that you're too good for her. that she's dragging you down by associating yourself with her.

she's a crazy wild card with enough baggage to fill an airship. she's unstable, erratic, and is always a stone throw away from a breakdown. and yet she has you, the sweetest person she's ever met, sticking to her side like glue and offering to mend her clothes.

jinx knows she doesn't deserve this, but you tell her all the time that she does. she deserves this and so much more.

knowing she's not going to reply anytime soon, you snap your fingers and point at her pants.

"take them off," you command, causing jinx's eyes to widen. "take them off now, i'm serious."

jinx blinks, but goes to unbuckle her belt. "not even gonna offer me dinner first?" she tries to joke but her voice's a little shaky. "i'm not wearing underwear by the way."

"shocker," you say, deadpan, before you smile. "gives me something pretty to look at it."

your smile stretches to a grin as you note the sudden blush on jinx's face. you laugh when jinx throws her pants at your face, covering her from view.

"you're disgusting," jinx grumbles, but you tell she's smiling. "fix my pants then, since you're so eager."

"yes, miss," you reply obediently, removing the pants from your face and shamelessly taking in jinx's lower half. then you look at her face and smile softly. "love you, jinxy."

jinx's eyes soften, her expression openly adoring.

"love you too, doll."

[genderqueerdykes]

the post you just shared about being both a trans man and a dyke reminded me of something that ive been wanting to talk about for a while now but haven't been able to so far.

im brazilian. the country with one of the biggest pride parades in the world while also being in the highest rates of violence towards lgbt people. queer culture here is weird, and maybe i missed out on it because i was able to find refuge online among the english speaking community relatively early.

ive been observing something that i wrongly assumed was our own version of the butch/femme community, and for a second i got really excited bc we all know butch loneliness, but the more i started looking into it, the more of its completely rotten entrails they showed me.

it's a disfigurement of the ideas that i have held to my heart so dearly ever since i read stone butch blues for the first time, and even more as i discovered leslie feinberg, and found out that there really were others like me. they use the term "desfem" (as in "defeminized"), and the definition explicitly states that the individual must be a cis woman, quoting some terf-tier bullshit that would make joanne proud.

hating men is their entire personality, and it's so shallow and based on cishet gender roles that there is no "femme" counterpart, because they see no way to perform femininity outside of patriarchal roles. they want the aesthetics of butchness without the hardships of living as one. the trans community carries these people on their backs and still they're more worried about how some dykes are trans too.

i don't know where im going with this, i just need to get it off my chest to someone who would at least have an idea of what im talking about. it's so disheartening to see the community head towards this direction, and i grow less and less interested in forming bridges with cis people as time goes on lol

i wanted to thank you for taking the time to send it, i really appreciate these thoughts! i get contacted by a lot of brazilian people. i think that's super cool! i've heard that despite how large your queer scene is that it's still very queerphobic and that's unfortunate, but it does happen.

"hating men is their entire personality, and it's so shallow and based on cishet gender roles that there is no "femme" counterpart, because they see no way to perform femininity outside of patriarchal roles."

i really appreciate the way you said this! i've been trying to point this out for a while now and i'm glad you've come to this realization, yourself.

for whatever reason, cis lesbian, dyke and sapphic spaces are obsessed with the butch-femme binary. it's romanced to hell and back but it's very restrictive and patriarchal. implying that romantic relationships must fall into a masculine partner + feminine partner structure is cisheteromative. there's not much representation for butch4butch, butch4all, femme4femme and femme4all people. the idea that the masculine partner must be strong and protect the weak feminine partner that can't defend themselves is a patriarchal dynamic.

all of the lesbian yearning posts are about how butches are tops and doms and how all femmes are bottoms and subs. butch becomes synonymous with penis and femme becomes synonymous with vagina. calling butches 'chivalrous knights' dehumanizes them and reduces them to being protector figures. the way cis femmes online go on and on and on about how they "need" a butch is very alarming. femmes are being framed as dependent and as though they can't function unless they have a butch in their life, which is very misogynistic.

it's just a repeat of cishet- the patriarchal relationship formatting applies here, even if the genders are slightly tweaked. it's in the coding. it's literally a copy and paste job. it's lazy and toxic as hell and it leaves out all of the diversity that comes with lesbianism and how butches and femmes can experience life and love and sexuality in a variety of ways.

the thing is, as a genderqueer person, i've never understood why people are so attached to this binary. it's so restrictive. i'm butch, but not in the way that white cis lesbians define it. the way they tlel you how to be butch is so restrictive it's not even funny. it's like you gotta pass a test. you gotta be stereotypically masculine 100% of the time or else you're not a real butch. you're expected to emulate a cishet guy, but if you identify as a guy, all hell breaks loose. if you think about it people basically force butches to identify as men and then hold it at arm's reach away. like you have to act exactly like a man but be a Woman. and it makes no fucking sense.

lesbians are some of the most gender diverse people out there. it's crazy to me that people are trying to force lesbians, people who are known for being gender weird, into a male-female cishet binary but with a lesbian Womyn coat of paint. i wish you better luck in finding community that wants to stick together instead of fight over petty bullshit that doesn't matter. take care of yourself. feel free to stop by again any time

[ancha-aus]

SansNautica Drabble - How Four became Five

I haven't been feeling really motivated to write. But then I thought of this idea and i liked it enough to play with it. Lets see how it goes. You guys know the drill! It is a drabble so it is writen once and then to you guys :) Stuff is still up to change but it will be fun! I hope haha

Also don't worry about the timeline hahaha. Seeing as i am not either :D

Warning! Referred Torture. Medical tortue specifically. Nothing graphic but it is there and HEAVILY implied and thought/writen about.

Also. Sidenote and fair warning. I have the headcanon that the Mers lay eggs, they are fish of course they can, and that with a specific kind of intent and magic they can make eggs that will eventually cause the fish form to hatch. so a mer can lay an egg that becomes a fish version of them. a way that mers can help extinct races return and thrive. Nothing grapphic again but it is mentioned.

*---------------------------*

He is so tired.

He misses his family.

What... what do these creatures want from him?

Don't they understand they are hurting him? they have to right?

They speak within his mind. It hurts when they do. his skull aches and his very being feels weird.

He wants to see his friends... his family... He hasn't seen them in so long.

He doesn't remember their faces... their names... He can't even remember his own name.

They call him Ten... The Tenth subject...

He just wants the pain to stop.

They use tools that hurt. Their touches hurt. They cut into his limbs and they don't let him sleep through it.

He wants to go home... They nests in soft blue light of the light bulb plants. Hidden in the darkness with their natural colouring. Watching the fish versions of his mertype swim around their nests. Cute and always willing to cuddle.

Those things came. Took them. Took them all from their very nests. He had seen them steal eggs even.

He had seen them cut the eggs open. He had grieved for those eggs.

He had woken up with stitches on his middle. Not remembering how he got them as he had passed out through the torture.

He doesn't know what they want.

They said they had answers. But he doesn't know to what!

One of them walks over and he tries to curl up even more. There is no room around him. The tank of water is tiny and he can't even stretch his tentacles fully. He is stuck. He is stuck.

He just wants to go home.

But... there is no home anymore... is there?

He is alone.

So alone.

And only the creatures who hurt him remain.

-------------

Dream dodges another one of those alien hunters as he travels deeper into the lava biome. Rushing forwards.

Nightmare would be furious at him for doing this. Actually... Dream is sure he will be furious when he finds out.

His twin always knows what he does.

But he has to!

He has to take this risk!

Those terrible things took what is his!! They took the fish Sea Emperors! They took the leviathan version of the fish!!

Dream is furious.

The sea emperors had already been near extintion. Dream ahd worked so hard and spend so much magic to make eggs to help build the race. Working closely together with the old last naturally born leviathan. Drema had even spend his own magic to strengthen her! She was his friend!!

He is going to break her our.

Dream. My friend. It is too dangerous. They will hurt you. Please... Stay away.

Dream shakes his skull as he pushes his limits further. He needs to get to her. He needs to breka her out.

My friend. Please. I am the last one left. And I do not know where i am. I am deeper than you even think.

Dream pants as he slows down a tiny bit. He focusses his mind to send her a message 'please. Please let me help you.'

I don't accept that. Please. Use your freedom to help more like you. They need you Dream. you are a leviathan. you know that role is of a leader and protector.

Dream shakes his skull as he stares into the large open cavern. Sea dragons leviathans swim around aggressively. More of those alien hunters are moving around to catch whatever they can.

That is the reason why Dream is in his small form now. To be able to sneak by them undetected.

He focuses his thoughts as he starts to inch deeper into the water 'That is what I am doing. You are part of me! You may not be a mer but our tails are the same!' He looks around. He hadn't seen anykind of building of those aliens yet. But they tend to be rather obvious.

You know that you don't need to lead us. That is what I do. and I failed. You have your responsibility to help your fellow... what did you call them again? Mers? You need to help them. They need your guidance.

Dream feels his sockets itch with tears 'But what about you... what about all the eggs and gups we managed to bring back?'

And I will forever be thankful for your help with that. But you can't lose sight of your responsibilities to those who need your help Dream.

Dream frowns as he has to swim back to make sure the hunters don't see him. Their upright position and strange single claw hands unnerve him still 'My brother is already helping the evacution.' Technically. Nightmare is actually hunting the hunters and making sure the large leviathans remain save. Reaper, Error and Ink are actually working on evacutating everyone beyond the void.

Dream. Please. They need you. I will remain here and be at peace. I will play with these strangers and see what they want. you need to go.

Drema hesitates but that must be clear to her.

If you truly wish to help us. Please... free out eggs, They stole so many... find them and free them. please.

Dream gives a slow nod as he backs away from the lava. His soul hurting with knowing he will lose his dear friend 'I will... and I am sorry.'

His friend laughs Oh friend. Don't be sorry for what you couldn't do. Be proud of what you could do. and you helped us so much. and will help many more. it is in your nature.

Dream still feels like he leaves a part of himself behind when he abandons his own fish-kind.

He swims back to the underwater river. A green colour in the area as he searches and searches. He knows those aliens settled here.

A loud roar. Drema looks up shocked. Waht is a sea dragon doing here! the fish-kind of his brother always remain in the lava area! why would one be here?!

Dream rushes after the sound and watches as a large sea dragon bites hunters as they rush forwards. Dream follows them around the corner and watches it crash into a large alien building!

Dream frowns as he connects to the other's emotions and mind. Unlike his own fish-kind, other fishes don't have the many mental powers that his own has. But Dream can still connect to them and learn.

Anger. Hurt. Grief.

huh. Dream tilts his skull as he inches closer. Watching closely as the large leviathan sea dragon hits the structure over and over again.

A loud roar and as Dream is now mentally connected he finally understands what she is saying

Give them back.

Dream gasps and rushes over just as the structure breaks and starts to sink to the bottom. The sea dragon, the mother, struggles to stay upright. Drema rushes to her side to try and heal her but...

The damage to her own head is too large. The large being roars mournfully as she looks at the building.

Dream hushes her gently and connects to her.

Help. Will. Eggs. Find. Safe.

The large being. Those large eyes stare at him. and slowly close. a peace falls over her mind. a very tender and desperate trust fills her in her last moments.

And she is gone.

Dream glares at the structure and rushes over. Time to find some eggs.

He is honestly very lucky that the structure is already broken and filling wiht water. He had found other structures before but never could manage to get very far inside as there is alway a pocket of air.

Now however?

Now he can go inside and explore and-

Oh... oh no...

So many creatures. Strung up and cut open.

Dream rushes deeper. Searching. More of those beautiful fish and creatures all cut open with little regard to them. Chained and stuck with large nails. As if they meant nothing!

That is when Dream sees the egg! It is a large sea dragon egg and Dream rushes over to it. There are these metal tools near it but that is alright! Dream will just break it out.

As soon as he touches the egg he knows.

He still sniffs and nuzzles it. He tries to heal it but it is no use...

Whatever those disgusting beings did... the little being that this egg had held is gone... The mother had died for nothing.

Dream wants to scream and cry. Why!! Why did they do this to them?! Why did they come here and start hurting and hunting them?! What did they do?!

Dream pants as he glares at all the glass. He rips a large weird metal thing off the ground and starts hitting stuff with it. Breaking anything he can get near as he goes deeper and deeper. Rage filling his soul and mind.

He roars loudly and it echoes.

Fear.

Dream stops and focusses. He felt... He thought... He uses all of his senses to reach for that little spike of emotion.

Deep... much deeper into this strange nest. there is someone... they feel... muted feelings. almost as if they are asleep or not awake.

Dream inches deepr into this area. Ready to transform into his bigger form at a moments notice. It would hurt to transform here but he would be able to open up the base fully and get out easily enough using the shock factor.

He turns a corner and glares. THis is where those hunters were made! He is this close to continue destroying this area as well when he feels more of that very light fear. almost as if someone is having a bad dream.

Dream swims over and finds more of those glass containers. Many other creatures inside. all looking hurt. Dream breaks them out but he honestly isn't sure how far they will get. Still he breaks them out as he swims deeper.

That is when he sees them.

A mer. locked in a very tiny containment. Covered with scars and wounds.

A cuddlefish mer... Dream... Dream ahd thought they were all gone... that those terrible hunters had... the hunters went after them first for some reason... They all hadn't realised until it was too late.

Dream rushes towards the strange cage and tries to think on how to safely remove it. The other is shaking and seems to be stuck in a bad dream. Dream glances around and sees mroe of those metal needles and some vials...

Dream tries to hum and hush the other gently but nothing seems to calm them. He needs to get them out. Now. He goes to the top of the glass and uses his claws to get a good grip. Then with the help of his tentacles he forces the glass away. He reaches inside and pulls the mer into his arms.

"please be okay. please be alive!" damn! He will take alive at this point!

The mer doesn't react. Seemingly unable to wake.

Dream glances around. Suddenly afraid of where he is. He eneds to get this mer to safety. But he has no idea how strong the other is. Much less if they would survive a trip through the void.

What if they woke up there and panicked? Or worse?

An idea... Nightmare had already said he would remain in the crater. To try and contain these creatures. his newly formed shiver wanted to remain wiht him... Nightmare will be able to watch over this hurt mer!

Dream hums as he makes sure to have a good hold on the other "Don't worry. I will bring you to my brother. He will keep you safe. I swear."

His brother will keep this vulnerable mer safe and happy.

Dream is sure of it.

[theocddiaries]

Robotnik: And what's the matter with you? Why are you feeling down?

Shadow: It's nothing. I don’t want to burden you with my problems.

Robotnik: Burden me… Don't be silly. Kid, do you even know the life I’ve had? I’m so orphaned I think my mother managed to abandon me before giving birth. I’ve gone bald, can’t practice my profession because here, if you try to take over the world three times, you’re basically untrustworthy, I turned to food because of a certain stinky hedgehog… No offense to you.

Shadow: It's okay…

Robotnik: Come on, little one. With all the crap life’s thrown at me, I’m an expert at handling problems with detachment and objectivity. Besides, I’ve grown fond of you, and you’re important to Stone. Your problems are my problems. So, what’s up?

Shadow: …Okay… I think I like Sonic.

Robotnik: And what's the big deal? To each their own. Me? I can’t stand him. Feels like a kick in the gut every time I see him, but I’ll admit I’ve learned to tolerate and respect him. So if you like him, you like him. We’re still fam--

Shadow: No, I mean I like like him.

Robotnik: WHAT!? But—but—but… Is your only talent messing up people’s lives!? It had to be that damn rodent who’s been driving me crazy, gifted me with love handles and no receipt for returns, and plunged me into this miserable life where I’m just another cushion on that armchair. Stone’s even dusted me off a few times when he’s been distracted! Who’s the puppet master writing these twisted love fates!? Who’s having fun at the expense of our senseless suffering!? And why don’t they just send us a meteorite to wipe us out like the dinosaurs! [raises his fists in indignation]: WHY!?

Shadow: …So much for handling things with detachment and objectivity… Don’t worry; he’ll never like me back. I was horrible to him.

Robotnik [crying]: How can I not worry? Damn it, think about me for a second. First, my parents abandon me, then no one loves me, then I go bald, then I fall into the trap of a sedentary lifestyle. Don’t you see life is just a huge pile of crap!?

Shadow: Ivo, it's okay, calm down. Everything will work out… [hugs him and pats his back]: Want me to make you Donald Duck-shaped pancakes?

Robotnik [pushes him away]: Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not a kid!

Shadow: Okay, sorry…

Robotnik: Make me pancakes shaped like a nameless duck.

Shadow: Okay, sure…

[ladystoneboobs]

um, it's more that luke and leia being twins was a rather last minute plot change in rotj, saying he "wrote the original trilogy" implies they were planned out as a unit in some way. the luke/leia kisses weren't meant to be accidentally incestuous. lucas was not originally planning to have them be related at all, and even in esb when darth vader became luke's father leia was not meant to be a skywalker too. at the time of making rotj the original thought behind leia's words about their mother was that the as-yet-unnamed-mother survived their birth and chose to seperate the twins herself for some reason, sending luke away while staying with leia in disguise on alderaan until she died a few years later. (also at this time owen was actually obi-wan's brother, not anakin's stepbrother.) but it was never the case that luke and leia were adopted at the same time when both were older than babies. that's why luke says he never knew his mother and has to ask leia what she knows of her.

luke was always meant to have spent his whole childhood on tattooine and that doesn't explain why his name wasn't changed to lars, which surely would have helped his own safety as the skywalker name is his most obvious link to anakin. i know sw portrays planets as not nearly big enough but it's a bit much to assume just being a blond human boy would get you linked to another blond male human in a different part of tattooine who left the planet almost 20 years before you were born. luke seems to have had a rather small social circle on tatooine and there's no hint that anyone he knew there besides owen, beru, and obi-wan had ever met anakin. it's also going directly against the movies to think owen ever intended luke to leave them for good as a skywalker. he certainly didn't want him to go anywhere with obi-wan as his jedi apprentice (anh obi-wan says that anakin wanted luke to have his old lightsaber but that owen wouldn't allow it bc he was afraid luke would go off with obi-wan on some fool crusade, which given later reveals/retconning about anakin and how that lightsaber changed hands, is just a bald-faced lie slandering owen as a needless stick-in-the-mud.) and if they were worried about him being caught out as anakin's son and having to go into hiding, again i say they could have just not openly raised him with the skywalker name to begin with. owen was doing all he could to keep luke on that farm for as long as he could, and their argument about leaving was just about luke following biggs to the academy, not even about joining the rebellion (tho that was surely in luke's mind as he knew it was biggs's real plan). luke not being a farmer was about him not wanting to be a farmer, about his spirit of adventure wanting more, not him always being meant to leave with obi-wan or needing to go into hiding at any time while using his father's name openly on his father's home planet. at the time that the larses took him to raise there's no reason they had to know he could never be made a farmer and would have to leave them for good someday, that happened due to his own choice and his own wishes. you mention how luke was affected by owen's and beru's deaths without acknowledging the plot significance of their deaths: that was luke's cue to leave with obi-wan bc he wasn't leaving with owen still alive and certainly wasn't raised with the expectation of being cut loose into obi-wan's waiting tutelage.

if we agree that both uncles/aunts and moms/dads can love kids, then why this insistence that that there's something wrong in not acknowledging owen and beru as anything other than luke's uncle and aunt? the version you've concocted where they always meant to be a temporary set-up for luke sounds more like foster care than a permanent adoption. there are different kinds of families and it's not wrong to say they don't always include someone called mom and dad or thought of as mom and dad. luke only ever considered one man his father, bc despite owen wanting luke to follow him into farming, he still raised luke as a skywalker, not a lars, as anakin's son and shmi's grandson. a guy who intentionally raised luke to call him uncle owen rather than dad would not be arguing that he was luke's real father or be insulted by being only known as uncle owen, so fandom really doesn't need to argue that on his behalf. he can consider luke his own without considering himself luke's dad, that just means luke's his nephew, not his son. this insistence that the larses were luke's mom and dad always feels like luke is seen as disrespectful for never calling them such, bc otherwise it means just ignored how luke thinks of them as canon luke clearly does not consider them his mom and dad. despite his loving relationship with beru, he still considered himself motherless, never having known a mother bc he could not remember padme. (i think it significant that "real mother" were his words, not leia's. she would probably consider bail and breha organa her real mom and dad and padme her birth mother, which means she could still have an interest in padme without feeling like that was her only mother whether she remembered her or not.) but who is the source of this distinction of uncle/aunt who raised him vs. mom/dad parental equivalents, luke himself or owen/beru? why can we not acknowledge and accept the difference between a guy who always wanted to adopt an unrelated baby girl and therefore offered to do so of his own volition wrt his recently deceased friend's baby, and a guy who was assigned guardianship by frickin' yoda and then had a baby boy delivered on short notice who was apparently the son of a stepbrother he met all of once a few years ago? esp given that even in the iteration where owen and obi-wan knew each other before and were even the ones actually related, they still never had a good relationship with owen warning luke to stay away from that "crazy wizard" and obi-wan lying his ass off about owen and anakin.

why is it people are all agreed that luke and leia would* have very different feelings about darth vader as a father but cannot grasp that their experiences with the people who raised them were also very different?

leia was actually adopted by a father who chose her, who gave her his name, and raised her as fully one of them, to think of himself and his wife as her parents. none of that was at all true for luke. he was dropped on owen and beru after they met his parents all of once a few years before. (which does not a brotherly relationship make! stepbrothers or not! padme was the one with an actual surviving family on naboo who actually knew and loved her. even bail knew her better than owen knew anakin.) owen lied about how anakin lived and died but still raised luke with an idea of his real father, using the skywalker name and saying aunt and uncle instead of mom and dad. 

do y’all not realize that an intra-family adoption doesn’t mean surnames can’t be changed or kids can’t say mom/dad instead of grandma/grandpa or aunt/uncle or whatever? why wouldn’t a kid instinctively call the people raising them from infancy mama and dada? this was all a choice, that’s why. (and considering the danger of the skywalker name, that part was a meaningful and deliberate choice.) and i’m not even blaming owen for it. adoptions cannot be forced on people who did not choose them. not everyone is capable of loving someone else’s child exactly the same as if they were related by blood and that’s not some irredeemable flaw. not everyone even wants to be parents, naturally or not! we don’t know if owen and beru ever wanted to be parents before obi-wan showed up on their doorstep. and even with the lying everyone did about anakin, it speaks well that luke was still raised with some knowledge of his birth parents and grew up loving and respecting the (false) idea of anakin. 

i’m sure owen and beru cared for luke as he did for them but they did not think of each other as simply father/mother and son, nuclear family-style. and to assert otherwise is to deliberately ignore the writing in the movies with every line of “uncle owen” “aunt beru” “his father/your father/my father” and “i have no memory of my mother. i never knew her.” it’s not an insult to owen/beru not to equate them with bail/breha who chose adoption and whom we know had always talked of adopting a baby girl. if anything, i’d say it’s an insult to ignore the complexity and true context there to simplify everyone into the same categories. and maybe, just maybe, we should consider that luke’s connection to anakin/vader and longing for knowledge of his “real” mother has to do with how he was raised differently than leia, and not because the twins are instrincially so different with luke just being a bigger softie.

*i say would because it’s not like rotj gives any time for leia’s reaction to learing she was fathered by anakin/vader (and no, eu matierials which can be de-canonized at any time do not make up any lack in the script). but it’s not as if leia expresses any disapproval toward luke’s feelings or hopes either, even as she worries about his plan. maybe bc she understands how and why she and luke are coming from different places better than most in the fandom do.

[thealternateinfectionau]

i actively try not to send too many asks about jonah because i know i will send 20 about him and go feral

i will maul him in the nicest way possible/VVVVVPOS

Bro if you try to maul him, he would experience flashbacks of getting infected and his reaction would be like this:

[introspectivememories]

goddd i just know that tim never takes off that fucking necklace. and you know bear doesn't have that much money so tge necklace was kinda cheap and it wasn't anything the bear meant for tim to wear regularly it was just like a keepsake y'know? wear it on a date or a nice outing. maybe when they're both home together. but tim is practically feral over it. like straight up refuses to take it off. it's turning his neck green at this point and everybody is soo done.

[monstermoviedean]

if you have a good vibe/kind thought to spare and could send it my way. i'd really appreciate it.

[lastthroes]

they really did this to me huh

[l-tora-l-archived]

Hello ! I think for the foreseeable future I'm not really gonna update this blog ! I've been absent for so long here that idk if anyone remembers me LOLS but if you do and you want to continue interacting then I have a new blog set up ! Other than that I hope 2024 is treating everyone well <333

[wisyhana]

I'm always happy to have nice comments on my art pieces. So I wanna try something different this time.

What about you send me your art and I comment on it?

You choose your piece and decide what you want: compliment or constructive criticism.

Let's see how it goes ^^

[soft-beams]

Hellooooooooo

Ok first off I LOVE YOUR WORK THERE SO GOOD AND SO WELL WRITTEN THAT I WANNA EAT THEM TO GAIN POWER

Second I wanna submit a request if that’s ok

An x reader with Vi where the reader is touch repulsed but at the same time touch staved?? How would Vi react to that and how would they as a couple get through it and make reader comfortable with being touched in an affectionate way ?

I have no clue if this makes sense

This is me self reflecting and it shows I’m sorry

If you don’t want to write it I completely get it you don’t have to if you don’t want too.

Thank you

aah thank you so much, lovely!! YOU'RE TOO KIND!!! and this was such an interesting prompt to get, thank you for sending it!! hope you enjoy!

vi notices that you don't like being touched.

she sees how you shy away from her hands, how you can only last in a hug for a second before you need to escape.

it confuses vi in the beginning, makes her wonder if it's her fault somehow. maybe she's too rough, too heavy-handed. maybe you can only tolerate her from a distance; only allowing her to get close for a moment before it's too much.

it hurts; it fucking does.

and it leads to an argument that has both of you screaming at the top of your lungs. she's furious and confused, and you're furious and crying. it doesn’t end until you're storming out of your shared home, disappearing for hours.

you don't come home until it's midnight, and by that point, vi's called everyone that she knows if they've seen you. she's about to go out herself when the front door suddenly opens, revealing a puffy-eyed and sniffling you. you stare at each other for a moment before vi's reaching for you, her own expression crumpling with the weight of her tears.

you allow her to draw you in, only this time you don't pull away. this time, you withstand it until vi's had her fill. until vi's sure that you're alright and safe and home.

one am finds you both on the couch, facing each other as you fidget with your hands. vi watches you carefully, sees how you struggle to form words before you sigh.

"it isn't you," you begin. "it's never been you. it's just something i've struggled with since i was young." you stay quiet for a second. "being touched freaks me out. i don't like being held for too long because it feels like i can't escape. makes me feel vulnerable..." you close your eyes. "that happened once and i just don't want it to happen again."

vi's heart shatters in her chest, millions of pieces raining down on the pit of her stomach. she feels sick; she feels like she wants to throw up. she wants to punch something, scream, hunt down the very bastard who dared laid their hands on you in such a way.

you who is the sweetest, kindest person she's ever known. subjected to be trapped against your will.

vi swallows, feeling tears well up behind her eyes.

"i'm so sorry," she murmurs softly, and you aim a weak smile her way. "i didn't think that—"

you shake your head. "you couldn't have known," you say. "the sad thing is that i love it when you touch me. when you hold my hand or curl your arm around my waist. when you pull me in for a hug...i love all of it." you then pull in a shaky breath. "but my body can't seem to recognise your touch as safe, and it hurt so much because i want to—" your voice chokes up around a sob and vi's flying across the couch, sitting close to comfort but not close enough to startle.

"hey," she soothes. "i love you so much, y'know that? and love goes beyond touching. it's about how we feel towards each other, and that goes above anything else." she takes a gentle hold of your finger, ensuring you can let go if you wish to. "do i love touching you? yes. but do i love you? more than fucking anything. so don't worry about this, okay? whatever you want to do, we'll do it and go at your pace."

at this point, you're freely sobbing now, tears rolling down your cheeks as you take in shuddering breaths. you use your free hand to wipe at your tears, giving a wobbly smile as you say, "how did i get so lucky with you?"

vi huffs a laugh, eyes soft as she squeezes your finger.

"i ask myself that question about you every single day."

[denimshortsdean]

commissioning art is so fucking exciting bc i know exactly what i want and i get to make that happen! downside: i have to tell someone to do that for me and it makes me feel bad!!!!!!!

[sskk-manifesto]

What a good episode. Maaaaaan

[usercelestial]

okay this means nothing to anyone but every time i see an anti bucktommy girlie have a horrible take i have to take a step back and realize how genuinely small they feel. like imagine throwing a fit, drawing pictures of a person as a lizard, creating blogs and posts about how much you want to kill him all over a fictional relationship that may not even last the entire duration of a show about firefighters. like permanently altering relationships and rejecting friendships over things like this. like they have such a cesspit inside themselves, they are deeply unhappy with being online in these spaces, they are tormenting themselves over something that doesn't matter and i remember how much i can't let myself fall into that like oh my god please never let me be that kind of person